Here is the promised second chapter whose uploading was delayed by the lack of wifi. I am still gleefully celebrating the Return of the Wifi. It's like the Return of the Jedi, only I'm not Princess Leia and this is not the Galactic Empire.
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It was 8am when Esme and Carlisle entered the ICU. Alair and Dr Westsmythe were already there, having checked in on her as soon as they arrived at the hospital.
"She's going to wake up pretty soon," stated Dr Westsmythe, reading the notes that the night ICU staff had written down. Alair nodded in assent. She removed the now empty bag that had transfused much-needed blood into the failing body of the dying teenager whose bed they surrounded. Esme listened to the sound of her daughter's heart beating – it sounded stronger than before, not by much, but just enough to set Esme's mind at ease.
A ragged choking noise interrupted her reverie. Carlisle looked relieved, and Dr Westsmythe sighed in relief. Alair grinned widely. Esme realised that Amelia was able to breathe on her own now, and Carlisle hastened to remove the endotracheal tube that snaked down his daughter's mouth and into her lungs. Alair suctioned what she could and placed the nasal cannula on Amelia, and the room fell silent as they waited with bated breath for Amelia to awaken. Dr Westsmythe and Alair left, opting to give the parents some privacy with their daughter when she woke up.
Amelia began to stir. She frowned and her face contorted.
"She'll be in pain when she wakes up," murmured Carlisle.
"Can't you give her something?" asked Esme.
"She needs to wake up first, and I want to assess how bad it is before giving her the meds. You know how she hates morphine."
Esme sighed and nodded. It was true. Amelia would go for as long as she could handle before asking for pain killers. Years of constant pain had not only given her a high pain threshold, but also meant that the traditional, over the counter medications that were commonly prescribed had absolutely no effect on her. Paracetamol did not work, nor did codeine or ibuprofen.
Amelia needed the stronger meds, the opioids – the addictive medication, which made her drowsy without fail. She hated that, and the host of other side effects that they brought. She refused to take them as often as she actually needed to, she didn't want to die an inadvertent addict. Amelia let out a whimper as she gradually began to wake up, and it took a lot of restraint on Carlisle's part not to drug his daughter into a stupor.
Esme simply picked up Amelia's hand and squeezed it gently. She was rewarded with a slight squeeze in response, gradually becoming stronger as her daughter clawed her way back into consciousness.
"Amelia can you hear me?" asked Esme, standing and gently stroking her daughter's face. Amelia squeezed her hand in response and frowned. Her eyelids refused to cooperate and she began to panic when she couldn't open her eyes, her heart rate beginning to speed up.
"Amelia, you're ok. It's ok," hushed Carlisle, gently removing the rheum from the corners of her eyes and running his fingers along her eyelids. She calmed down a little, coughing loudly. She managed to move her free hand and cover her mouth, crying softly, and eventually her eyes opened. She blinked a few times, before focussing on Esme and giving her a tired smile. Carlisle adjusted her bed until it was in a more upright position. Amelia held her breath. It was evident that she was in a lot of pain.
"Welcome back," said Esme, handing Amelia a glass of water, which she gratefully took. Amelia frowned, realising that she was not at home.
"ICU?" she whispered, noticing the glass windows and lack of other people.
"Isolation wing of the ICU, yes," confirmed Carlisle. Amelia frowned.
"What happened?"
"What's the last thing you remember?" he answered with a question of his own.
"The concert. I vaguely remember playing the Star Wars theme. Oh gosh, did I get sick at the concert?" she asked, a look of horror on her face.
"No you didn't. We brought you home after it was finished. You looked a bit unwell but we left you to sleep it off because you had had a very long day. At 3am on Tuesday morning, you called me to your room complaining that you weren't feeling well. You had a nasty fever and burst a blood vessel with the coughing."
"I burst another blood vessel? Fantastic," she muttered sarcastically. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out that she was upset at the turn of events.
"You were pretty out of it in the car and we managed to stop the bleeding in theatre but it took us ages to get your fever to break. It kept on climbing and eventually Blythe healed you enough to get the fever to break."
"Healed me enough?" she asked.
"You have pneumonia."
"Go figure."
"The bleeding caused your right lung to collapse."
"No wonder my chest feels like I've been ridden over by a 16-wheeler, which then reversed and rode over me again," she joked, running her hand along her chest. Her fingers grazed the chest drain and she ran her fingers over it. She glanced to the side, and started when she saw the bladder that was nearly full of blood, "darn, that's a lot of blood. Is it all out?"
"We've emptied it once already. I think it needs to be emptied again. No, there is still more which is why we need to get you up and moving again this afternoon to help the lung to reinflate."
"Whoopee," she sighed, "can you remove the catheter while you're about it, please?"
"Let's leave it in a little longer, we're still trying to, uh, monitor your urine flow," said Carlisle, trying to move the bag before Amelia noticed. She did, and glared at him, delicately raising an eyebrow as she did so.
"How badly damaged are they?"
"Let's just say that your urine colour has improved." Amelia nodded and fell silent. Carlisle stood up and emptied the plastic bladder of blood before reattaching it to the chest drain. Almost immediately a drop of blood fell into it. Amelia coughed, holding a tissue to her face that Esme handed her, and grimacing when she spied the blood embedded in the mucous. She then passed her a trash can and Amelia threw it away.
"What day is it?" she asked suddenly.
"It's just gone 8.30am on Wednesday. You were out for almost 30 hours," answered Esme. Amelia glanced at her, and offered her a smile.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she apologised.
"There was nothing you could have done, Amelia. I'm just glad that you are alright," replied Esme, giving Amelia a hug. The sharp intake of breath was not missed. Amelia was hurting.
"What now?" she asked.
"You're going to be in hospital for a while, we're looking at about a two week stay at the very least," stated Carlisle. Amelia's face fell.
"What about school?"
"Alice went in yesterday and submitted your biology assignment for you. I'm sorry sweetheart, but you won't be returning to school again."
Amelia stared at him and turned her head to the side so that they could not see the tears. She took a breath and turned back to them.
"Is there anything else you might want to tell me?"
"This setback, for lack of a better term, had cost you greatly."
"How so?"
"Alice doesn't see you making it as far as September anymore."
"When?" she whispered, feeling a sense of fear set in.
"About 4 months from now. You're looking at about June or July."
Amelia nodded, wincing in pain. She closed her eyes, sinking back on the pillows. Her thoughts were in a jumble. She was still trying to process everything and desperately needed time to do that. She briefly considered asking her parents to leave, but didn't want to offend them. One of the ICU nurses knocking on the glass, informing her parents that visiting hours were over. Suddenly Amelia realised that she didn't actually want to be left alone, but this was Isolation after all. She felt the panic starting to kick in. She was surprised that her parents had been let in at all. She waved them off with fake cheer, before bursting into tears as soon as they had passed the glass window, forgetting for the moment that they had astonishing hearing.
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"Let her be," said Carlisle, holding Esme tightly in his arms. She was struggling to get back to Amelia, hearing her sobbing and wanting to comfort her. They were standing only feet away from the ICU doors.
"No Carlisle Robert Cullen! Let me go right now! She needs me!" she shrieked, struggling to get out of his grip.
"Esme, not now. She needs her space. She was desperate for us to leave. She just didn't want to hurt your feelings. You know that as well as I do. Now stop this," he said firmly.
"Our daughter is dying, Carlisle, and you want me to leave her alone? We need to spend as much time with her as we can before that happens! I'm not going to sit around and waste what precious time we have left with her!"
Carlisle tightened his grip, wishing Jasper was nearby. He sent a mental wish to Alice, hoping she'd come to his rescue. He managed to get Esme out of the ICU and march her up to his office. The further they got away, the more she seemed to struggle. If only he could give her a sedative or something. Finally he made it to his office, where Emmett and Jasper were waiting. Jasper immediately moved to her side, sending waves of calmness towards the motherly figure in his life. She continued to struggle, and Emmett took over from Carlisle, holding her arms firmly behind her back.
"Come on, Esme, it's going to be alright," he said.
"Let me go!"
"No!" snapped Jasper, placing his hands on Esme's cheeks and projecting his powers. Esme suddenly slumped against Emmett and lost her will to fight. Very hesitantly, he loosened his grip and led her to a chair. She sat down and put her head in her hands, sobbing loudly. It nearly broke her husband and sons' unbeating hearts to witness her break down like that. Never in their entire existence had they witnessed their wife and mother lose it as she just had.
Esme loved her children - that much they had always known. But to witness her break down because she couldn't comfort her dying daughter in a moment of need was killing them all. If Amelia did not survive this, they honestly did not know if Esme would ever recover from the death of her youngest child. She had attempted suicide after she had lost her human son, and even although her situation was a thousand times better, and she was happy in her immortal life, would she do it again?
Carlisle was interrupted from his musings by the piercing sound of his cellphone ringing. He glanced down at the caller ID. Alice.
"Let Esme go back to Mia. It's hurting them both," she said, as soon as he accepted the call.
"Are you sure?" he said.
"Her future changed again. Carlisle, you need to get her out of isolation as soon as possible. She will get ICU psychosis if we are not careful. She's not in a good place right now," she explained in a rush.
"On it."
They hung up. Before Carlisle could get up and walk to Dr Westsmythe's office, the very man himself ran into the office. He had heard about what happened in the ICU – Alair had heard it clearly and informed him of what happened – and he'd also heard the heart-breaking cries of his colleague's wife echoing down the corridor. The ICU staff had also phoned him, asking if they should sedate Amelia because she was so upset. It was partly pain, partly emotional distress that was responsible for Amelia's state of mind, so he had requested that they give her some pain medication.
A second phone call informed him that Amelia had gotten even more frantic when they came into the room with the morphine and had started to hyperventilate. At that point in time, he could not decide who need who more, Amelia her mother, or Esme her daughter.
"It's been arranged," he said to Carlisle, "Esme, go back to ICU. Amelia needs you just as much as you need her. We need to leave right now. Amelia's hyperventilating."
Carlisle flew out of the room, Dr Westsmythe hot on his heels. Emmett helped Esme to her feet, and she too ran off. Emmett and Jasper glanced at each other and shrugged. Their work was done. They shut the door behind them and walked down the stairs and towards the exit.
"Wrestling match in 20?" asked Emmett, bumping fists with his brother.
"You're on," smirked Jasper.