She was sick. His Bella was sick. The very thought of her illness made Edward’s chest tighten with fear and apprehension. Humanity was so frail—so fleeting. In the last eighty or so years it had been easy to forget such a fact. But Bella and her family, everyone at school; they all had an expiration date. They would die and he would go on. It was a concept he’d long ago grasped but the reality of the situation gripped his heart with fear and pain. Bella made it so real, so final.

He should have changed her already, he realized. If he had, she wouldn’t be suffering like this—struggling to breath, barley conscious of the world around her. It broke him to watch her be in pain.

“Bella, is there anything I can do?” His voice was desperate. He felt less than useless, watching as she shivered from his cool breath being so close to her.

“I’m fine, Edward,” she groaned out, her voice raspy and tight.

“Maybe I should bring you to Carlisle; he could take a look at you—”

“Oh please stop,” she begged, turning her head away as another coughing fit wracked her frame. He growled quietly to himself, hating how violently it shook her. She was so frail, every heave made him flinch, half expecting her to break.

“Bella,” he whispered, leaning forward and resting his head against her burning hot one. He loathed this, watching as some virus coursed through her body, trying to pull his beloved under its dark spell.

“Edward, go away,” her scratchy voice growled. He was so wrapped up in his visual examination of her; he didn’t see the pillow until just before it smacked him in the head. “It’s a cold, not the plague.”

“I can’t leave you like this,” he whispered quietly. She didn’t understand. It was a cold to her; to him it was every worry and doubt about her human frailty thrown in his face.

“Fine, don’t leave,” she sighed. “But pass the Nyquil.”

Edward reached for the bottle of green liquid that sat on her nightstand and handed it to her. His eyes searched for the measuring cup but stopped when he realized Bella didn’t need one. She took a swig of the vial medicine and passed it back without a word. She flipped over to lie on her stomach and drifted back into semi-unconsciousness.

He watched her for a long time, watched as she groaned and shivered in her sleep, the fever coming and going in waves. He disappeared here and there when Charlie would come to check on her, but never kept her out of his sight.

It was a few days before she got better, but get better she did and eventually his sweet Bella returned to him, the grumpy sick monster that had taken over disappearing completely.

While he was eternally relieved to see her feeling well again, the nagging reminder of her mortality stayed at the forefront of his mind. Bella was human, and one day she would die; whether by his hand or fates. Would he be ready for it when it came?