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Ravyn and Edward have finally found peace together with the Cullens. They haven't heard from her dad, and things seem to be looking up. But when Alice sees something potentially dangerous, and Carlisle rushes her to the hospital for x-rays, they realize that their happy ending was never meant to be. And just when it can't get any worse for Ravyn, guess who shows up? This is the sequel to "Restart".

Do you have any idea how many times I've repostes this to get it validated? You don't even wanna know.

2. Chapter 2: Terminal

Rating 3/5   Word Count 2005   Review this Chapter


“What?” Alice screeched at Carlisle.

“Just to be sure,” he replied in his soothing voice.

“You want to give her a full cat scan just because I had a vision of a funeral? It could have been anyone’s funeral!” Alice ranted, furious. I shrank back into the couch cushions, terrified at my sister’s outburst.

“She’s the only human we really talk to, Alice. Of course I’m worried it might be her.”

“But can’t it wait one day? I’ve been planning this trip for months!”

“You can still go. Ravyn just has to stay home,” he said, trying to help the situation. It didn’t work.

“I’ve checked the future a thousand times since, Carlisle. I haven’t seen anything wrong with her future – aside from missing tomorrow’s trip!”

“Just as a precaution,” he said sternly. That was his way of saying, “No more arguing. What I say goes.

“I agree with Carlisle,” I said in a small voice, grateful for anything to get me out of the otherwise unavoidable shopping spree of torture.

“Me, too,” Edward added. “I don’t want to take a chance.”

“But…” Alice stuttered for a minute. Then her teeth ground together and her lower lip pushed out into a pout. She spun on her heel and stormed up the stairs in a huff.


“Really, Edward – I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll be fine,” I reassured him, staring deep into his black eyes. “Besides, you need to go hunting. I’m not going to be doing much anyways.”

“If you’re sure…” He said pausing, his compromise wavering.


“Fine,” he agreed angrily. “But if something shows up,” he turned to Carlisle, “I want you to call me immediately.”

“Of course,” Carlisle said with a nod.

He turned back to me, his eyes fierce with emotion. He didn’t say anything, but bent down and pressed his lips to mine, then pulled back, suddenly detached. In a moment he was gone, and I was whispering, “I love you,” after him.

Carlisle stood by the door, holding it open for me. I thanked him as I usually did and stepped outside, allowing him to lead me to the garage and his car. He took the driver’s seat, and I took shot gun.

I remembered my own car, shiny and black, with a pang of sadness. It was beautiful, fast and menacing, and it was gone. That lovely Crossfire was stolen by my own father. If I wasn’t so afraid of him, I’d be really pissed.

He sped well above the normal speed limit and I sunk back against the dark leather seats. We were at the hospital in no time, and he was swiftly pulling into a spot that said, “RESERVED: DR. CULLEN.”

Together we walked through the automatic doors, and he looked down to smile encouragingly as we approached a room down the hallway. The sign outside said, “CAT SCAN AND XRAY ROOM.”



I waited as the ancient machines printed out the multiple x-rays. While they puttered and shook, I had sent Ravyn to my office to wait. At the rate they were going, everyone else would be back by the time they printed.

Finally the machine popped out first one x-ray, then another, and another, and finally, there were five pieces of translucent black plastic in my hands. I flipped the switch on the light board and placed the first one underneath the prongs.

This was an x-ray of her chest cavity. It was clean, the normal arrangement of bones – only one crooked from being broken. A sudden surge of rage flowed through me as I remembered. I tried my best to suppress it, and moved onto the next.

The next was of the left side of her brain. It was normal, the usual patterns of colors with no abnormalities. The third was the right side of her bran, and that was normal too. The fourth was the top of her brain which, as the last too were, was normal.

I was starting to think that Alice’s vision was of someone else – maybe another doctor at the hospital, and I was just there for pity. But, as I lifted the last slide, a picture of the underside of the brain, where it met the brain stem and the spinal cord, I felt a feeling of unease spread through me, like I knew that this one wasn’t right.

Slowly, deliberately, I lifted the x-ray and pinned it to the board without looking at it. Then I stepped back and felt my eyes grow with horror and realization as I saw the patterns of colors, ranging from red to blue, and then that one, little abnormality that sent dread flooding through me.

Centered around the brain stem, where the pontine gliomas, or pons, were was a small dark mass.

I picked up the sixth x-ray as the machine spit it out and hastily put it on the board in the place of the fifth, which I still held in my hand. It was a side view of her skull, and I could definitely make out a bright spot that didn’t belong, just around the area where the dark spot was in the fifth x-ray.

I put the fifth beside the sixth and compared them, desperate for another answer. No, I thought, this can’t be. Not her.

But, no matter how many times I looked the x-ray’s over, they were the same. And they all pointed to the same conclusion, the same diagnosis.




“Ooh, I like those,” I enthused, pointing to a pair of deep purple Prada heels.

“I like them better in the black,” Rosalie disagreed.

“I like these ones better myself,” Esme said, pointing to a pair of tan boots.

“Can I help you ladies? Perhaps get your size?” A pushy sale’s person said cheerfully, sauntering over to us.

“Yes,” I piped up. “Can I get these in a five?”

“And I’ll take these in a seven,” Rosalie said, already envious of my tiny shoe size. Sometimes it was a burden though, and she didn’t understand.

“I’ll have these in a seven and a half,” Esme finished.

“Sure thing, ladies,” he said, smiling and waltzing away towards a back room.

As we waited for the man to return, the three of us sat on one of the cushy benches. And it was a good thing we were sitting down too, because suddenly I zoned out and a vision came to me.

“No,” I gasped.

“Alice? What is it?” Esme asked frantically.

“Ravyn,” I breathed.

“What? What happened?” She asked, the color draining from her face.

I swayed back and forth slightly, shaken.

“Alice! What is it?” Esme hissed, grabbing my hands.



I pushed the carcass of the deer away and straightened. Emmett was sloppily finishing his off, managing to get blood on his shirt. I, however, was clean.

“You about full?” He asked, pushing his deer away.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m ready to go.”

“Let me get just one more, then I’ll be done.”

“If you weren’t so messy, the blood would go in your mouth instead of on your shirt,” I chided with a smirk.

“Well, I was having fun.”

As he sprinted off to find another deer, I turned to gaze at the peaks that lined the horizon. It was beautiful, breathtaking, even. The sun was high over head, though concealed by the usual dense shroud of clouds.

My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I reached in to answer it. I glanced at the LCD display – it was Carlisle. Panic started to spread through me prematurely, but I told myself it was probably nothing.

I brought the phone to my ear, and wished that he wouldn’t say what I feared.

“Edward,” he said in a dull, emotionless voice, “you’d better get down here now.”

“What is it?” I asked, panicking.

He paused before finally saying, “It’s Ravyn.”

“What is it?” I repeated. “What did you find?”

“It doesn’t look good,” he breathed into the mouthpiece.

I almost dropped the phone.

“Get down here. Now.” With that, he hung up his phone, and the droning buzz came out of the earpiece now.

“Emmett,” I called.

He was at my side in a second – new trails of blood on his face.

“Get in the car,” I ordered.

“Where are we going?” He asked, confused. The insides of his mouth were stained red from the fresh blood of the deer he’d just killed.

“To the hospital.”


As I sat in the stiff chair in Carlisle’s office, I began to get uneasy. What was taking him so long? How long should it take to look at six x-rays? Even if they weren’t necessary?

I let my eyes wander along the walls, inspecting the diplomas and awards Carlisle had received. I dreamed of having an office like this of my own one day, when I graduated college and became a doctor myself. I could help people, the way that people should have helped Kellan. I could maybe make up for not being there to save him.

I fought back that memory as I abruptly heard speaking out in the hallway. One was a forced low pitch, while the other was female and abruptly rising in pitch with hysterics.

“…don’t know for sure yet…need to run more tests,” the calmer one mumbled in an official voice.

“But you saw the tumor! I saw the tumor!” The female voice screamed. If I was mistaken, I could have sworn it was Alice. But never had I heard her so stressed out and worried before. I dismissed the possibility, guessing that I had been eavesdropping on someone else’s conversation.

“That doesn’t mean anything…” I couldn’t make out the next word, but I supposed he said the female’s name. That frustrated me somewhat; since I wanted to be sure it wasn’t my own family speaking.

“It’s right there in plain sight! I was right,” she moaned, “It was her funeral!”

I was beginning to fear the worst.

Abruptly, another male voice could be heard, and there was no mistaking who owned it. I would know the voice anywhere; tell it apart from a crowd of screaming people.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, worried beyond belief.

“She’s in…don’t worry,” the calmer voice murmured.

“What’s wrong? What did you find?” He asked, and there was a quick pause while nobody spoke. “No!” He hissed furiously.

“I’m sorry…” the calm voice said, and there was a crinkling and a wobbly sound as something was passed around – it sounded like thin plastic that bent and made those loud wobbling noises.

“Is that it?” The second male asked in a calmer tone. Though he was attempting to be calm, his fear seeped through the cracks in his voice like water from between stone.

“Yes,” the calm voice said, suddenly agonized.

“That’s huge,” was all the second could say.

“I know – it’s a miracle she’s lasted this long.”

“Can it be treated?”

There was a minute of space where I was leaning back in my chair, desperate to hear the conversation. It was silent as the calm voice paused.

“We can try,” he whispered, and I barely heard him. “We can try chemotherapy and radiation, but surgery is definitely out.”

“If we did the surgery, there would be a chance of severing the brain stem, and then she would be paralyzed or brain dead,” he paused, “or worse,” he whispered, “dead.”

“What if we don’t do surgery?” The second asked, seemingly desperate for another option.

“If we do the radiation, she’ll lose her hair and have to suffer all the side effects. Probably nausea and things like that. But there’s a very slim chance with, at the rate this tumor is growing, that it will do anything to improve it. It’s already far along, and she’s probably–”

“Don’t say it,” the second voice growled. There was a pause, and I imagined that the two exchanged a glance.

“Terminal,” the calm voice finished