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Sick

Summary:
Okay, this might be the weirdest AU ever, but I thought it would be kind of cute. I got it from the idea of Bella always freaks when Edward's gone from school; what would happen if Bella didn't go one day because she was sick? It's after Port Angeles, but before the meadow. Pretty much, he comes to see what's wrong and has to take care of her.


Notes:


4. Chapter 4: Cast

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1305   Review this Chapter

When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was Carlisle leaning over me, washing my face with a damp cloth.

I tried to get up, but he pushed me back down. "No, no. It's okay; you're not going anywhere."

"Oh, God..." I mumbled, my voice strained. I looked to the cloth and said, "Um...what is--?"

"It'll help to reduce your fever. How are you feeling?" He brushed the back of his hand across my forehead.

"Unh..." I managed to choke out.

"That bad, huh?" He asked, with a smirk.

"No, no...I'm...ugh." I shook my head, struggling to clear my head and come to my senses.

I felt a sharp pain in my ankle and winced slightly, looking down at it.

Edward was setting it correctly, concentrating on the ankle so much, he barely noticed I had woken up. "Sorry," he muttered.

"It's okay." I said, turning my head to see what was going on.

"Can I do anything for you?" Carlisle asked, with a warm smile.

I shook my head, "No thanks; I'm good."

"Okay...well, your fever's gone down and everything is looking okay for now. How's the nausea?"

"Too soon to tell." I said, rubbing my stomach lightly, cringing slightly in pain.

He nodded, "Well, it seems as if everything is okay and you're on the way to recovery from here; your ankle only has a hairline fracture, but you will need to wear a cast for about six to eight weeks."

"What?!" I squealed, "No! No, no, no, please, please, don't--don't make me wear a cast. Please. I'll walk real lightly on it; please don't do this to me. I can't handle any more stress."

"Bella, don't start." Edward said, sounding more angry than annoyed.

I stiffened up, "No, you don't start. Please, you cannot do this to me."

"Look, Bella, I'm sorry, but I really think it's a good idea." Carlisle said, apologetically, "It will only get worse unless you wear the cast. It won't last long, but it won't get any better if you go without it."

"God, why are you doing this to me?" I said, miserably, shaking my head.

"Because we're worried about you, Bella," Edward said, irritably, his head snapping up to look at me.

I scoffed, "Oh, please..."

"Bella, please." Carlisle said, "Don't make this any harder than it has to be. I know how hard this must be...especially for you--"

Edward snorted, but Carlisle ignored him, continuing on as if nothing happened. "--but you have to understand, dear, we only have your best interests at heart."

I didn't answer, but merely waited while they worked on me.

Edward focused on wrapping my foot and putting the cast on it, only needing Carlisle's help on holding the piece of material, while Carlisle spent most of his time helping me reduce my fever.

When everything was finished, Carlisle took my temperature again and said, "100.3--not the best, but we're seeing some real progress. You should be fine by tomorrow. Nothing more I can really do for you."

He looked to Edward, who nodded, and said, "Thanks, Carlisle."

Carlisle smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Anytime. I should be going. Feel better, Bella. And, Edward, you take good care of her. You should be fine on your own for now." He gathered up his things and left.

I struggled to support my weight as I made to sit up when Edward said, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to sit up." I said, in an obvious-tone.

He breathed a chuckle, "Here; let me help you." He came over and helped me up.

I moaned slightly and he tensed up, "What's wrong?"

"No, no, it's not you," I assured him, "I think I'm a bit...hungry. I can't tell; I've spent the better part of my past 48 hours nauseous, so I can't quite be sure, but I'm pretty sure that I might need a little something to eat."

"Here, I can get you something. What do you want?"

I smiled at his total lack of knowledge. "What?" He asked, making me smile even more, "Nothing."

"No, what? What?" He sounded so nervous, it was utterly adorable.

"Nothing, it's nothing, don't worry about it. I guess I can go for some chicken noodle soup. It's kind of the best thing to have when you have the flu; it...helps ease things up a bit."

"Okay." He said, still sounding uncertain. "And, where would that be?"

I chuckled, "Let me help you." I made to stand up, but stepped on my bad ankle, and staggered slightly, "Ow! Ow, ow!"

He sat me back down and rolled his eyes, "Don't--will you just--I'll...find it myself. Don't worry about it; I'll be right back. You just...sit down and stay there."

He was back within seconds, holding a bowl of soup, and smiling nervously, "See, I told you. Didn't need your help after all."

I stifled a smile as I said, "Aren't you gonna heat that up first?" I asked.

"What?" He looked at it and then grimaced slightly, "Oops. Am I--was I supposed to heat this up first?"

"Just a bit, yeah." I said, struggling to not laugh.

"Sorry. How, um, long do I heat it for?"

"It says on the can. I usually do around 2 1/2-3 minutes."

"Okay." He went back into the kitchen, looking almost embarrassed.

He came back minutes later and handed it to me. "Anything else I can ruin for you while I'm on a roll here?"

I shook my head, "Don't be silly; you're not ruining anything."

"There are so many ways I could disagree with that." He said, sitting down.

"Do yourself a favor and don't even try it; you know I'll never let it go."

"Yes, I do, unfortunately."

"Was that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" I asked, confused.

He smirked, "Just eat your soup."

I obliged and shuddered slightly. "What; is there something wrong? Did I mess it up?" He asked, noticing my shudder.

"No, no, not at all. You did fine; it's great. Don't worry about it."

I took a sip of the broth and then said, "Hey, can you do me a favor and get a Sprite out of the fridge?"

He nodded, "Sure. Are there any special instructions to that that I should be aware of?"

I smiled, "No, just the Sprite is fine."

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Okay." He left again and then returned momentarily with the can already opened for me.

I took it and sipped it. "Thanks. Ugh...my head feels like it's still spinning. Is there supposed to be two TVs there?"

He stared at me, clearly unamused, and I smiled, "Kidding."

"That's not funny."

"I thought it was funny."

"Can I do anything else for you?" He asked, changing the subject.

I patted the couch next to me. "Just...sit with me."

"Okay," he obliged, sitting next to me, stiffening up as he did so.

"Sorry," I said, apologetically.

"Don't mention it," he said, his voice straining as he did so.

I finished the soup and Sprite without another word from either of us, both of us just sitting there in silence as I did so.

After I finished, I set the bowl and can on the table and then sat back, sighing as I did so.

"So...where do we go from here?" I asked, nervously.

"What do you mean?" He asked, looking at me.

"You love me, yes? I love you...obviously...so, where does that leave us?"