A/N: I've always wanted to write a Quil/Claire story, so here we are! It's probably not a good idea to start on this while working on my other fic, Quiet Summer, but the Spring and Summer Breaks are coming up, so I should have time enough for both. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and please don't hesitate to review!

As always,
Mina :)


FAHRENHEIT

ONE: WAKE UP


"You're a what?"

"I – we're werewolves."

I want to laugh. I want so desperately to laugh, because the image of big Quil turning into a little wolf and running around howling at the moon is too funny to resist, but it clicks. Quil's a wolf; they're all wolves. They haven't aged. They're huge. They're inhumanly strong and agile and sure-footed. Embry should've bled to death when he got in that car accident, but he didn't. Jacob should've lost his finger when he burned it at the garage, but he didn't. Seth shouldn't have been able to eat two whole turkeys in four minutes, but he did. They're wolves.

And they're all staring at me, their suddenly identical brown eyes searching for some sign of life in mine. I shake my head, because I know they expect me to be cool with this, like it's no big deal, like I should've known it all along. I should have – it's so damn obvious now that I look at it – but I hadn't a clue. It's such a ridiculous thought. Werewolves? Like the ones from Billy's beach stories? No way. But there's nothing else to explain it. Quil changed my diapers when I was a baby; Quil taught me how to swim; Quil saved me from my first heartbreak; Quil was my first dance on my sixteenth birthday. And he hasn't gotten any older.

"You're wolves," I breathe.

It makes sense. The way they never really all fit into Aunt Em's older house makes sense. The way they can practically pick up vehicles makes sense. The torn clothes and scars and bruises make sense. It's like I'm seeing them for the first time, like being taken from one extreme to another, like everything I thought I knew was wrong, so wrong, and faces I thought I knew every inch of are strangers; their skin is all the very same tone of cinnamon, their hair the very same shade of black, and their individual features fade away into a blur of people I don't know anymore, because they're all related in this wolf way and God, how did I not know?

"Claire," somebody says, reaching for me.

I know it's Quil by the sound of his voice, but his face is new to me and I can't look at him. My shoulders tense and I take a step back, wrenching my arm from his grasp. "Don't – touch – me."

"Claire…"

He moves closer, and I've nowhere to go because the wall is pushing me forward, preventing my escape, making me face this. I stare at the floor, my hands in fists at my sides, and try not to scream.

"Claire, we were going to tell you. I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you earlier, a long time ago, but Sam – Sam and Jake – "

Somebody's phone goes off.

Uncle Sam's hand goes to his belt and I watch, wordlessly, as he flips his cell phone open. He waits for a few seconds, says a single word – "Yes" – and shuts it. When he looks around the room, avoiding my eyes, I know that this is the beginning of something. It's in the air. It's in their stances, the way they stand in unison, setting their shoulders and flexing their fingers. Uncle Sam kisses Aunt Em, Jared hugs Kim, and Quil looks at me as if he wants to say something.

I shake my head, refusing this to be what I feel like it is: a send-off.

"Let's go," Uncle Sam says.

They're almost all gone when my brain whirrs into action.

"I'm not going to be here when you get back. Wherever it is you're going, I'm not going to be here."

Quil's eyes close in that way he has when he's trying to keep his patience with me. "You can be as angry with us – with me – as you want, but all I ask of you is that you stay in this house. Please, Claire. I'll explain everything when I get back. Just stay here."

His superiority triggers something in me, and I place my hands on his broad chest and shove. Now, I'm not anywhere near as big as Quil, but with six feet and some meat on my bones, I'm close enough to catch him off guard and send him stepping back a few paces. "I'm not your child, Quil!" I shout. "You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie –"

I laugh. It sounds ugly and bitter coming out of my mouth, and I hate the way it tastes and the way it warps Quil's face. "No, you didn't lie. You didn't tell me anything at all. You're supposed to be my best friend."

"Quil," Uncle Sam says. His hand is tapping nervously on the frame of the front door.

"We have to go. Please, Claire," Quil says, not letting me pull away when he kisses my forehead. "Please."

I turn away.

The house falls silent after the door shuts. I feel numb and still and it takes me a second to swallow the acrid disbelief on my tongue and the deception in the air. I know Aunt Em is standing there, waiting for me to say something, to react, but all I can think about is her face, twisted and scarred. A bear didn't do that, and the certainty of that thought unbinds my mind and moves my feet.

"I'm leaving."

My hand is on the doorknob when she grabs my arm. "You can't leave, Claire."

And Aunt Em has been in on it the whole time. Emily and her wolf boys. Whatever's happening tonight, she's known about it, and she's known it for a while. It's a cheap shot, but it rolls out of my mouth the second I think it: "Where are your kids, Emily?"

"They're at your mother's house for the summer," she says softly, aware that she's been caught.

"So you knew."

Her hand drops from my arm. The routine of keeping secrets from me stalls her tongue, and when I turn to look at her, her face is hesitant. "What's out there is bigger than you and me," she says, glancing at the door. "Trust me."

Resentment bubbles in my stomach. "Trust you? I will never trust you again."

In a sickening way that I'll probably be sorry for in the morning, it's worth it. She looks like she's about to cry, and the anger and bitterness in my heart won't sway me to care. I push past her to the stairs, and when I get to my room, I lock the door and draw the curtains so that the stars can help light the wide yard in front of the house.

But I don't sleep, because the moon is full and I need to know that my family is okay.