Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

The Oldest Trees

'The oldest trees bear the sweetest fruit.' – German Proverb

They thought she was sleeping. She wasn't. Instead, she was listening.

"The doctors say that she won't last the night, not at this rate, anyway."

"Surgery?"

"At her age? We'd risk killing her ourselves just by giving her the anaesthesia."

"Right, right. Well, I guess we'll need to give a call to her children, then."

"Grandchildren, actually; her children are all dead."

"Man, how old is this broad?"

"One hundred and twenty-two."

…

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack."

…

"Okay, first of all – 'as a heart attack'? Really? In a hospital with patients who die of heart attacks? And, second, shit; that's old."

"I know. Why do you think I don't want to give her any anaesthesia?"

"Well, I figured she was old, but I didn't think she was that old."

"Excuse me," a weathered voice spoke next, spooking them. They turned to the frail woman on the bed, having the decency to appear embarrassed. "If you are done gossiping about the amount of years I have spent on this Earth, could one of you fetch me a glass of water?"

Swallowing back the embarrassment, the one who made the inappropriate comment about heart attacks hurried to answer her. "Of course, I'll head out and get you one right now, while Jonah here goes and notifies Dr. Cullen that you're awake."

They think the woman may have smiled, but her skin is too wrinkled and loose to really tell, the youth and beauty having seeped out decades before. "Thank you."

The two of them nod, before hurrying out of the small room in the tiny hospital of Forks, Washington.

She hadn't lived in Forks her entire life, though she had been born there. No, in her long lifetime she had been quite the traveller. She could remember dining in Paris, hiking in England, riding horseback across Spain. She had met her Jacob, her love, in Italy, of all places; he was the furthest thing from Italian you could get, and yet, there he was. He was seven years her senior, and yet he spoke in such a way that she had, within moments, forgotten that she was barely eighteen while he was sitting pretty on twenty-five. He was charming, and suave, and dark, and handsome, and all those things young girls imagine when they think of who they want to marry.

And marry him, she did. Jacob made a fine husband, and an even finer father. First came Oliver, who was a little hellion who had them wrapped around his fingers before he had taken his second breath. Then came Marie, who Jacob swore wouldn't be allowed to date until she was at the ripe old age of thirty, to which she replied that they had been married before she was even nineteen. Two years after Marie came the twins, Theo and Eliza, who were the cliché 'we-finish-each-other's-sentences' twins. At times, it was like they could read each other's minds. Finally, the last of their happy family, little Katie, who caused Jacob's protective feelings to grow when he saw that she was the spitting image of her mother, who wasn't even entering her thirties yet and still received a lot of attention from the males, both single and taken. Jacob had his hands full, that was for sure.

To the shock of her parents, there youngest, Katie, was the first to find someone she loved. She married a boy named Thomas when she was nineteen and he was twenty, and nine months after the wedding their first child, Jade, was born. During their marriage, they had three children: Jade, Jack, and Joseph. Oliver married next, to a woman name Christina who was a mere four months younger than him, and they had two children: twin girls Brittany and Samantha. Theo and Eliza married a set of siblings: Theo to the elder, Tamara, and Eliza to her younger brother, Elliot. Theo and Tamara birthed four daughters: Summer, Forest, Destiny, and Hope. Eliza and Elliot did the opposite, having four sons: Jonathon, Jake, Lucas, and Mitchell. Marie was the last to marry, being nearly thirty-three when she finally found her match in thirty-four year old David. The couple had only one child – Matthew – but that was enough for them.

She had given birth to five children, and they had – in return – given her five more children, as well as fourteen grandchildren. She was content in life with her husband, until the call came. Her youngest, Katie – wife to Thomas and mother of three – had died in a car accident. She had only been thirty.

And so began the beginning of the harsh times. Shortly after the funeral, her husband, her love, her Jacob, had a stroke. It was apparently, quite serious, for Jacob didn't last the night. She cried for weeks, as did her remaining children. Jacob was sixty-two, and while he had lived a good life, nobody was prepared to see him go so soon, especially not when Katie had died a mere five months before. Theo was next, leaving his beloved twin sister all but alone in the world as his pulse was stopped by a gun-wielding bank robber. He was only thirty-five. They say Eliza died of a broken-heart, lost without her twin, as she died the next year. Her last words were said to her mother, who was fifty-eight at the time, and left the impression that little Eliza knew she was joining her brother, despite having to give up her family to be reunited. It was five years before tragedy hit her once again – just when she was beginning to think that all was well; or, as well as it could be. On the way to a business meeting across the country, the plane Marie was travelling in crashed; there were no survivors. She was forty-three.

Oliver was the last to go, basically ridding her of the happy little family she had built with a non-Italian man she had met in Italy. Sure, they had left her with fourteen grandchildren and five in-laws, but it wasn't the same. When the widow had turned sixty-seven, she received one final phone call; her first born had died. Her children had been taken from her in order from youngest to oldest, with the last one being 48 when the final sleep took him. Her grandchildren were spread out all over the country, with the closest ones being Marie's little Matthew, but since David had remarried he hadn't had time to make the trip for Matt to see his aging grandmother. So she was alone.

And now, nearly seventy years after her Jacob had passed, she found herself walking the border of life and death in the very hospital she had been born in.

Dr. Cullen was speaking to his youngest son, Edward, in his office when Jonah came to tell him that their eldest patient was awake.

"That would be Miss Swan, then?"

"Yes, well – Miss Black, really – but, yes. Miss Swan."

"Very well. Come, Edward; join me. We can continue this conversation while I check on Miss Swan."

And so, Edward blindly followed his father, unaware of what was about to occur.

You see, Dr. Cullen and his son – in fact, his entire family – are not normal, human beings. Far from it, in fact. They survive off of the plasma that runs through your veins; the blood. However, for vampires, they are quite controlled and what could be considered 'good'. Instead of feeding from and killing humans, they fed from the animals in the forest, preferring to protect the human race rather than live off it.

Edward was the odd one out in the family, his siblings consisting of two mated pairs and, of course, his parents. He was the only Cullen not to have imprint – that is, find his soul mate. It's an instantaneous collision of souls; a vampire knows instantly when they've found their mate.

Edward looked down at the floor as they entered the bright, sterile hospital room. He didn't want to make the woman uncomfortable, knowing from his father's thoughts that she was close to death. He remarked in his mind that it was amazing to have the chance to be in the presence of such an aged human, but still – he didn't look up.

"Ah, Miss Swan; how are you this afternoon?"

The woman shifted in her bed. "Same as I was yesterday, I suppose – and it's Black."

Dr. Cullen looked at her curiously. "Excuse me?"

She sighed. "Just because my husband has been dead for nearly seven decades does not mean that I do not continue to go by his name. My name is Black, not Swan; Isabella Marie Black."

"Then I apologize, Miss Black; Swan is just the name we have on file."

"No sense in changing it, is there? Not when I'm so close to kicking the bucket."

It was this comment that changed Edward's world. He marvelled at how easily this woman was talking about her own death! He seemed unable to hear the thoughts behind the words, and so he glanced up at her. It was just as instantaneous as the others had said; Edward Cullen had just imprinted.

He couldn't help himself from walking towards her bed, taking her old, fragile hand in his own and rubbing circles into the back of it, trying to comfort her. "You should never speak like that, love; such perfection should never cease to exist."

It would be a lie to say that Isabella did not feel the connection the two of them shared, however the years had been kind on her eyesight. She croaked a laugh, looking at the young man in front of her with a dry sort of humour. "You do realize that I am more than a century older than you, right, dearie? There are much better things to look at than me."

Dr. Cullen knew what had just occurred between his son and the dying patient, and sighed. Life did not seem to be going easy on his son, and he wondered why it kept throwing such curveballs in his way. Yes, vampires had imprinted on humans before – it had occurred that way for Dr. Cullen himself – but never had one imprinted on an old human. Isabella Black was dying, and there was nothing that was going to change that.

Edward snarled at his father's thoughts. "I will save her. She is mine." Unfortunately, Isabella had heard.

She smiled softly, moving her hand out from under his to pat his arm. "I am not yours, sweetheart; I am much too old for you, though I am flattered. You cannot save me, no matter how hard you try."

His heart broke. "Yes, I can; you don't understand! You're human, but I'm not!"

She smiled again, not sure if she believed him but sensing that he believed it. "You are young, but you are not a superhero. Some things just can't be helped. I've been on this Earth for far too long; it's my time to go."

He growled. "No it isn't!" He leaned over her, whispering. "I'll save you, you'll see!"

Dr. Carlisle Cullen moved forward, gripping his son's shoulder. "Edward, her heart is weak; you can't change her."

He turned to his father, his face menacing yet glorious. "She is my mate; I will change her, and she will be fine!" He snapped at his father to show how serious he was, and Carlisle stepped backwards in shock. Even when Edward was a thirst-driven newborn vampire, he had never snapped at him.

"You could kill her, Edward."

"I've got to try." And the pleading he saw on his son's face told him everything; Isabella Black was Edward's mate, and he would do everything in his power to save her, even if trying meant being the cause of her death.

"Very well."

And Dr. Cullen stepped back, locked the door to stop others from coming in, and watched.

Three days was how long the transformation from human to vampire took. Three long, agonizing days in which your body is dragged through the deepest circle of Hell and brought back again, to the eternal burning of the thirst. There are seventy-two hours in three days.

Ten hours after Edward Cullen unleashes his venom into the veins of his soul mate, his true love, his Isabella, she begins screaming for another man – her late husband, her Jacob.

Fifteen hours in, her heart begins to tremor with the force of the change.

Twenty-four hours in, she is no longer screaming.

Thirty-three hours in, she is whimpering for people named Marie, Oliver, Theo, Eliza, and Katie.

Forty-eight hours in, she is screaming again.

Fifty-four hours in, new names are thrown in: Mother, Father, Grandpa, Grandma.

Seventy hours into the transformation of Isabella Black, nee Swan, her heart stops.

Edward Cullen swears that his heart has been shattered, torn out of his chest and burned to ashes. He sits still beside her bed, humming a melody he had created while she writhed in the torture. He leans forward, dumping the load of blood out of his stomach and into the bucket conveniently by her side.

The transformation had worked; the one hundred and twenty-two year old looked decades younger, and stronger. She could easily pass her age off as being in her mid-twenties, the power of the venom having worked wonders. All wrinkles, blemishes and scars had been removed, and now the only thing standing in the way over her looking like a teenager was her hair, which was now as snow-white as her once ivory skin.

Two hours more, and she would have been a vampire. Edward Cullen is mateless. Forever.

Three hours after the death of Isabella Black, she stirs. Edward Cullen has not moved from her side, unwilling to leave her, even in death.

"Where am I?" She whispers, and he thinks he has imagined it. "Jacob?"

He looks up, shocked as her eyes open to reveal glowing red irises, the blood of her previously human body controlling the pigment. "Love?"

"You're not Jacob."

"No, I'm not."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Edward Cullen."

"Oh."

They sit in silence.

"Bella."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Bella – well, Isabella. Swan."

Edward smiles.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bella Swan. Are you sure your name is not Black?"

Bella looks at him, peering deeply into the eyes that she already loves. She feels every feeling she had ever felt for Jacob leave her, though she knows he will forever be in her heart. Curiously, the memories of him are already fading, though her children and her grandchildren remain in her thoughts. She knows she is a different person than the one who entered the hospital some months before.

"I'd prefer if it was Cullen."

And it's the truth.

Okay, I know; what was I thinking? I am currently going through a bought of writer's block for Edward's Inferno, and so I am writing down basically anything that comes to mind. This is a one shot, and I think you'll all agree that this is definitely a 'strange imprint', and so I put it in this universe of mine. Hope you like it. It was kind of fun to write.

Review, and remember me.