Dying Doesn't Seem So Cruel
Sick
"Good afternoon, Dahlia. How are you feeling?"
"Not much better. Where is everybody?"
Carlisle smiled. "Emmett went hunting."
"Is it a bad idea for me to be so near him?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's gone hunting twice in the past twenty-four hours."
""He just doesn't want to slip up and hurt you."
"The others don't do that."
"Oh, hey, Dahlia. You're awake."
"Barely," I retorted, and Edward grinned.
"What was wrong with her?"
"Minor flu. I called your parents, 'Lia, this morning and told them you were staying here so that they don't get sick."
"Yeah, them having to give up their busy schedules would kill them."
Carlisle chuckled, patted my head tenderly, and announced, "I have to get back to the hospital."
Edward sat next to me on the couch, and I curled up in a tighter ball. "You must be sick," he remarked.
"Why?"
"Your dreams weren't about Emmett."
"Did I even dream?"
"Well, no. And I'm not going to tell anyone how you feel about him."
"Thanks."
"Hello, you two."
"Hi, Esme."
"Has Emmett returned?"
"She knows?"
"I couldn't not tell her."
"Emmett is the only one who doesn't know."
"I don't know what?"
Edward disappeared with a quick, comforting smile, and Esme walked into the kitchen. I shifted to where i was sitting on only one couch cushion; Emmett reached out and touched my hand.
"What don't I know?"
"What everyone else knows."
"Very funny."
"But so true."
Suddenly, I lurched to my feet and hurried to the bathroom. Someone cradled me to their broad chest after I'd thrown up; I recognised the smell. Emmett carried me to his room and laid me on the couch.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"You should ask Carlisle."
"I will. Get some sleep."
"I've been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours."
"You're ill. You need to rest."
"Fine."
"Oh, and you look good in my shirt."
This last comment went almost unheard, and completely without retaliation, as I'd fallen asleep.
"Not much better. Where is everybody?"
Carlisle smiled. "Emmett went hunting."
"Is it a bad idea for me to be so near him?"
"What do you mean?"
"He's gone hunting twice in the past twenty-four hours."
""He just doesn't want to slip up and hurt you."
"The others don't do that."
"Oh, hey, Dahlia. You're awake."
"Barely," I retorted, and Edward grinned.
"What was wrong with her?"
"Minor flu. I called your parents, 'Lia, this morning and told them you were staying here so that they don't get sick."
"Yeah, them having to give up their busy schedules would kill them."
Carlisle chuckled, patted my head tenderly, and announced, "I have to get back to the hospital."
Edward sat next to me on the couch, and I curled up in a tighter ball. "You must be sick," he remarked.
"Why?"
"Your dreams weren't about Emmett."
"Did I even dream?"
"Well, no. And I'm not going to tell anyone how you feel about him."
"Thanks."
"Hello, you two."
"Hi, Esme."
"Has Emmett returned?"
"She knows?"
"I couldn't not tell her."
"Emmett is the only one who doesn't know."
"I don't know what?"
Edward disappeared with a quick, comforting smile, and Esme walked into the kitchen. I shifted to where i was sitting on only one couch cushion; Emmett reached out and touched my hand.
"What don't I know?"
"What everyone else knows."
"Very funny."
"But so true."
Suddenly, I lurched to my feet and hurried to the bathroom. Someone cradled me to their broad chest after I'd thrown up; I recognised the smell. Emmett carried me to his room and laid me on the couch.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"You should ask Carlisle."
"I will. Get some sleep."
"I've been sleeping for almost twenty-four hours."
"You're ill. You need to rest."
"Fine."
"Oh, and you look good in my shirt."
This last comment went almost unheard, and completely without retaliation, as I'd fallen asleep.