A Wolf in Twilight imagines the story of Leah Clearwater through the perspective of a young, blind doctor, new to Forks, and unwittingly thrust into the world of wolves and vampires. Closely follows and references the events of the series.
March 8th, 2006
A few weeks following the Breaking News of a horrific bear attack in the Olympic National Park near Forks, WA.
Chapter 1: Infinite Monsters
The smell of gas and oil. Like a perfume, it clung to the inside of the truck, hinting at character, defining impressions. One might have thought Owen accustomed to the mechanical smells of the beaten up, old Ford '95. After all, his father's truck had been a staple of his childhood. Long summers seated right where he sat that rainy afternoon, bouncing along, head lulled to the side, against the window that had quit working years ago. He recalled that tickle in his jaw from the vibration of the glass. Enough, it had his younger self constantly adjusting and re-adjusting to find the best spot for rest. There had also been more space for his knees.
But the years had changed things. He had obviously grown. Even at his meager five-foot-ten, he had to turn them at just the right angle to avoid the glove-compartment box. The sensation at the window was different, as well. Still an irritant, less a distraction. Or, perhaps, it was Owen's steeled intent to keep his facade of rest and not draw attention to himself. Yes. Uncomfortable though he was, Older Owen was far wiser than Younger Owen and understood how best to keep the cab happy. Minimal attention meant even less talking. So, feign sleep. Only five more hours to go.
The vents were on full blast. He felt the unfiltered air like a punch; rain-tinted air, gently heated by the engine and then released into the truck's interior in a ceaseless spray of humidity. It made the space a tad chilly. Owen hazarded a shifting of his body to set one jacketed arm against the brunt of the vent.
"Too cold?" Owen's heart dipped. Mission to remain forgotten failed.
"Sorry. I'll get it," the voice beside him said quickly.
A click at the dashboard and the press of artificial wind quit.
"Thanks," he murmured in his best 'I'm half-asleep' voice. No use. Owen heard his father clear the gravel from his throat, a tell that meant a discussion was on the way. And then silence. The expected hush as the elder Reid formed his thoughts. Owen couldn't help an internal sigh. Maybe because there in that truck, he could remember a different person seated beside him those long summers before the accident. A man who spoke with far less hesitancy to his son.
The space between words was filled with the pat-patter of a gentle rainfall made vicious beneath their speed on the highway.
"Passin' Portland, here, in thirty," came the eventual observation, tinged with a familiar Texas drawl. Another clearing of his smoke-stained throat. "So, uh, figure we could stop there fer lunch."
"If it's ok, I'd like to make it into Forks before six."
"Yeah sure."
More silence. Owen had become adept at reading it and could guess his father's internalizing, which was likely loaded with self-doubt and discomfort. So odd. Like a completely different person than the man Owen remembered. But, then again, hadn't the surgery made them all different people? Owen gritted his teeth, willing the thoughts out of his mind, thoughts and his own personal insecurities. They'd been banished years ago. No doubt, it was just the familiarity of the setting getting to him.
The rattling window...the smell of his father's truck...
"You know, maybe we should stop," Owen said quickly, straightening up in his seat as an unbidden wave of claustrophobia washed in from the memories. "Let's not wait for Portland, though. There should be some fast food coming up, right?"
"Next exit," his father confirmed, catching a bit of that same need to get out.
Lunch was thankfully typical. Some good old highly processed Subway. Owen relished a brief respite from company as he ate alone while his father filled the gas tank and then perused the gift shop. He sat alone in the small booth, dark-tinted shades pinching at the bridge of his nose. He never liked wearing them but his father insisted, even then in the gas station, miles away from home. It wasn't a cruel or demanding insistence. No, it was something far worse...
Embarrassment?
"Here's yer glasses, son." And the tone of his voice was always so tight, clipped.
Owen had attempted several times throughout the years to assure his father that the glasses weren't necessary. I'm not ashamed, anymore. And every time, it had been the same response.
"Doc says it helps."
All up until the last time when Owen had pointedly reminded his father that the 'doc' had said that years ago, after the surgery, after the breakdown.
"I don't use these anymore."
"Just take them!" The older man had snapped.
And that was it. Owen knew, the glasses weren't for his benefit. They were for his father's sake. So, he had taken the shades and put them on and then never taken them off, when around his father. Which wasn't often.
"Hey, I got us some jerky," loud and approaching at Owen's ten o'clock; Mr. Reid, like a herald heralding himself into the moment. The younger man gave a quick, forced smile of acknowledgement and tried not to think about the eyes of those around, no doubt, on them.
Just a few more hours, Owen promised himself.
And it was.
The sun had just begun to set, ushering in a noticeable cold, when the old truck growled onto S. Forks Ave. Owen was seated forward, head turned slightly as he listened to his new home. The rain. It had let up through most of Southern Washington but then returned in force twenty miles outside of town. His father had quipped something about renting a pontoon boat for the rest of the way, but Owen was focused completely on the wealth of newness invading his senses.
Perhaps it was the excitement of starting a new chapter, starting it alone for the first time in his life, but something in the air felt different. As if they had just driven through the wardrobe and could expect to find crossing signs for Fawns and maybe a talking animal to provide directions to Klahndike Blvd., where his studio apartment awaited.
Well, they didn't find magical creatures but did manage to attract a blast of siren from a cop, hiding down a side road.
"Oh, hell," Owen's father groaned.
A minute later, they were pulled off to the side. The officer took his time before there came the tap-tap of knuckles on the driver's side window.
"Evenin', officer." And there was a handing over of the necessary identification.
"Evening."
The voice of the man outside was low, a natural authority grounding the tone.
"Where you headed..." A pause. A glance at the license. "Mr. Reid?"
"Klahndike?" The older Reid let the question tell the story of their newness to the area. And the officer seemed to read better than expected.
"You're the new Doc Will?"
"Huh?"
Owen leaned forward, catching the reference and raising a hand: "That'd be me."
Doctor William Taggert was one of the few licensed chiropractors working in the area. He also happened to be the man Owen was replacing.
"Good to meet you, Doctor Reid. I'm Officer Swan." A mix of ease and no-nonsense blended his voice into something strong and reliable. Owen appreciated him, already.
"You have a tail-light out, sir," he continued, addressing Owen's father again over the pops of rain on his hat. "I'd like you to get that fixed before heading out."
A warning was written and handed over and then the officer gave the truck's hood a pat in parting.
"Happy to have you in Forks," Swan said in Owen's direction. "And, uh, let me know if you need anything, ok?"
Owen gave a nod of thanks.
"See you Tuesdays, doc."
Apparently, Owen had just met his first client.
xXXx
The apartment was reasonable, a tiny one bed, one bath with a kitchen adjoining the living space. 435 square feet. Eight easy steps from the door to the refrigerator. Five to the bedroom. Five more to the restroom. Just enough room for Fork's newest bachelor. The living quarters filled up nicely with a couch, a computer desk and old fashioned CD player where the TV might have gone. There was the tower of CDs with everything from classical to rock to world music. Owen had diverse tastes, made most evident in his modular bed. Three supported cushions linked together that could be converted into any number of configurations. He had it laid flat as a traditional mattress.
There was small circular dining table with a glass surface and two chairs. His father grumbled about the impracticality of the setup and attempted multiple times to convince Owen to purchase a wood top. It was almost as big an argument as the candles. Owen loved candles. And he had them set in strategic locations all throughout the apartment.
"It'll be fine," he assured his father.
"Just don't get the sense of it, 'cause-...well..."
Owen stood in the center of his new home, completely at home. A deep intake of breath fixing the scent of the place in-mind and in-heart. He was happy. He smiled. It tugged at the corners of his shielded, sightless eyes.
"Thanks for bringing me, dad."
A long, quiet moment. Different in the quality of tension. Because his rough and capable father was attempting to keep the emotion out of his voice.
"Ok, well, I'm gonna...I'm gonna get the rest of your things. And then I figured I'd get goin', if that's ok. Got a long drive home and they're expecting me at the new job site by Tuesday."
Owen knew. They had already discussed the arrangement. The drive there and the quick departure. It had been one of his father's leading arguments against the idea of going...of driving his disabled son two states away to deposit him in the foreign land that was Forks, Washington. Give it a pass, son. It's too quick, too soon. Other opportunities will come. But that wasn't true. Inheriting an established practice straight out of residency was the opportunity of a lifetime. Even more so for a young, blind doctor.
"Call me when you get back to Texas," Owen said at the doorway, gripping his father's hand in farewell. He couldn't see the tears in the old man's eyes and no words came in response for fear of revealing them, if there. Just a quick squeeze of the hand. And his father was gone. The closing of another chapter. He wouldn't receive a call. Like after the accident and then his parents' divorce, there would be no word unless Owen was the one to reach out.
He shut the door as the engine roared to life. Forehead to the frame, he drew in a deep, steadying breath.
Owen made the mental note to call his father, Thursday, after work.
xXXx
Healing Hands Chiropractic sat at the corner of Klahndike and Sol Duc Way, an easy five minutes and 350 steps, from Owen's apartment. He made it to the door of the office by 8:30am and then made it inside twenty minutes later, when a flustered woman came running up the steps.
"I'M HERE! I'M HERE, DOCTOR REID!" She had a voice that could fill an auditorium, rich and sing-song, even in her hurry. Jan Riley. No doubt. Though they had only spoken on the phone and via e-mail, her overdrive personality was unmistakable. It brought a smile instantly to his lips.
"How was the drive? Did you settle ok? Have you had breakfast, yet? Let's get breakfast! I know the best place! Pancakes like you've never tasted with some good Northern syrup!" He let himself be drawn up and led down the stairs to her vehicle, Jan's warmth like a wash of ease.
Before long they were sitting at The Lodge, a town favorite, sipping coffee while they awaited their meals. The place had a casual feel. He felt it in the freedom of the wait-staff, the nonchalance of a lingering chat or orders called to the kitchen. There was some dropped dishes followed by laughter and a few appropriately snarky comments. A fire crackled somewhere behind them, lending voice to the now familiar chorus of rain, outside.
"So nice to put a face to the text," Jan was saying. "And I can promise the late start is not my norm, sir. Like I said on the phone, I'll keep things purring on the paper-side, so you can focus on your work-"
With a shake of the head, he dismissed the tension.
"No worries. Just glad to be here."
"And I'm so glad to have you here, Doctor Reid."
"Owen's fine."
He felt a reach across the table and a pat on his hand.
"I'll be honest, I don't think we'll be seeing Doctor Will. We had the funeral and then...you know, he came in that one day and didn't say anything. He passed by his regulars, walked right into the office and that's when he wrote to you."
Owen recalled the e-mail that had changed his life.
Owen,
I'm leaving Forks. I want you to have the practice.
Will.
Twelve words. That was it. Twelve words from a man Owen had known only briefly through the chiropractic conference circuit. It had felt like a joke and may have been passed off as such, if not for the Breaking News the day prior. Authorities confirmed that the bodies of Anna Darling, Megan Taggert and Terrance Allen were recovered in Olympic National Park. Initial reports indicated a large animal attack.
And next Owen knew, he was putting in a notice at his internship and arranging a move to Washington.
"I still don't understand why he contacted me."
Jan said nothing for a long moment and then managed a deep intake of breath.
"I knew Megan." Some absent fiddling with her mug and silverware, keeping her hands busy. "We all did. She was back with her fiance for a quick visit before the start of the semester." It felt as if the room had suddenly become much smaller. The sounds all seemed to dull around them as Owen listened.
"Megan used to love surprising her dad at work. It was just the two of them after his wife passed away. She would sneak into the office and make me promise to keep quiet. Always our little secret. She'd hide around corners or sometimes in the closet or under my desk-" Her voice hitched. It was Owen's turn to reach forward and feel for her hand, which she took in a strong, grateful grip.
"All through Middle School and then High School. And then whenever she was in town for a break. She'd jump out and tackle him with a hug. And they would laugh and-" Jan sniffed. "He was just so happy, Owen. Such a happy man."
"I remember. My first conference. I thought I was in line for the small business talk when I hear this man walk up. He asks me, 'Son, do you like koolaid?' I said, 'Not particularly.' And he takes me by the arm and guides me across the hotel foyer to the correct line for the chiropractors conference. I had just been saved from accidently attending a Tony Robbins seminar."
At that, the woman across from him barked out a laugh.
"Dr. Reid!"
Owen chuckled.
"Will helped me navigate the rest of the conference and we've connected at others throughout the years." A pause. The young doctor let a bit of the seriousness seep back into the conversation. "Nothing more than those occasional meet-ups, though."
"I don't know," Jan admitted. Their food arrived with a wafting smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes. "Will shut down when Megan went missing. I've tried to keep things going by rescheduling the regular appointments. We've lost a lot of clientele, though. I don't know what to do, Owen."
Neither did he. But it didn't mean she needed to have the weight and pressure of that uncertainty on her mind. Owen forced a smile, something calm and reassuring.
"What you need to do is take the next three days off." He almost felt her shock and continued quickly, "Jan, you've done really good job, here. I so appreciate your work and your investment in the office." She was crying. "And what I need you to do, right now, is take a few days for yourself. I've reviewed all the expense reports you sent and the budget. We are going to be fine to close up shop 'til next week."
They needed that time. He needed the quiet to build a personal acquaintance with the space. Jan needed time to separate and mourn.
"Promise me, ok? Go away for a while with your family," she'd talked about them during one of their first phone calls. A husband and three kids. "Go away...but then come back."
She laughed again.
"Yes sir."
xXXx
Owen sat in the dark of his new office, hands folded, head bowed, thoughts a thousand miles and sixteen years away.
"What you're seeing, Owen, is nothing."
"No, I see the lights."
A million dancing lights. Beautiful orbs of colors and lines and squiggles that jumped with every turn of the eyes. They were playful things. He imagined a world where the shapes could talk. 'Look at me! Look at me!' They would say. 'If you catch us, we will tell you a secret...'
A whole galaxy of color creatures.
"I don't understand..." His mother's voice in the memory, sad and distant.
"There's gotta be a way to fix this, doc!" His father's voice. "Therapy...'er somethin'!"
The voices like a breeze. The colors like a planet...his planet. 'Catch us, Owen.' Everywhere he looked. 'Try to catch us.' Why couldn't he focus on anything?
"The No Light Perception designation does not mean total black. What your son is experiencing is a kind of visual tinnitus; images and colors manifested by the mind."
Tinnitus? What? Were they talking about him? The breeze was a wind in his ears. The planet was spinning. Little Owen blinked and looked all about himself for the exit...the escape pod to leave his shape planet and travel to where he heard his parent's voices.
"Mom?"
"It's ok, baby." But her wind voice was a storm with tears like rain. He felt them hitting the top of his head. It wasn't ok. His father was a hurricane somewhere nearby.
"THIS SURGERY WAS S'POSED T' FIX HIM!"
"Mr. Reid, I-..."
The colors weren't playful anymore.
"David, stop yelling."
The circles dashed across the sky. No. Not the sky...the sky was blue and what he saw was something like brown. 'Wanna know our secret?'
"I'm gonna sue yer ass t' hell! You got no idea what's comin'!"
Owen couldn't breathe. He tried to run, but something had him tight across the body. Arms. His mother's arms.
"You're scaring, Owen!" His mother's voice.
'Look at us, Owen...'
"Please calm yourself, Mr. Reid. There's nothing we can do except help him adjust."
The little boy gulped at air and pushed and wriggled with all his little might until he was falling...and the wind was screaming...and the hurricane was roaring...and his planet was laughing as he fell...
SLAM!
Owen startled awake on the floor of the office, an old, known panic filling his chest. He leaned back, knees drawn up, arms wrapped tight about them until he was a ball of manic breaths at the feet of the chair he'd fallen from. Memories of that day as a child threaded in and out of his present with a reckless cruelty. Physical emotions at war with the logical mind.
He had fallen from his mother's lap that day, the day the doctor had told them about the failed surgery and what it meant for him.
Totally blind. The two words on his health documents.
It was the day he learned the secret of the color shapes.
'We will never leave. When you close your eyes. When you open them. Every second of your life until the day you die, we will be with you.'
His own planet of beautiful, endless monsters.
Owen Reid hugged himself tight through the panic as his mother had done and began the methodic process of tuning out the infinity of his blindness, grounding deep into reality. First the clinical smells of the office. The hint of essential oils Jan must have favored at her desk. The feel of the cold tile beneath him.
Owen's heart began to slow its pace.
The faint taste of toothpaste on his teeth.
He felt his muscles relaxing.
The ever-present tap of rain. Gentle, soothing rain.
And somewhere far off...Owen heard the baying of a wolf.
Reference: Missing hikers in New Moon, Chapter 8.
