Banners for this story can be found on my profile.

Summary: (because ff allows about 10 characters in theirs lol)

As we move through life, the force of fate creates events that we only appreciate when we reflect on our existence.

— R. Harmon

Unlikely bonds form and tragedy forever changes the lives of Ness , Jacob, his once-lover Kimber, and all of the Cullens.

This story contains dark themes, violence; sexual content of both the naughty and nightmarish kind, and other things younger folks should avoid reading.

Excerpt:

She laid her head in my lap and looked up at me. Heaven. "Jacob, tell me why I can't stay away from you…why I can't get you out of my head…why even now I can't help but want to be near you," she murmured.

I got lost again. My fingertips brushed across her face and lips lightly. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before sitting up in front of me. My fingers still caressed her cheek while I continued to lose myself in her. There's something I'm supposed to be saying right now…

"Why?" she whispered.

My face crept closer to hers until our lips were less than an inch apart and our noses were almost touching. "Because we're soul mates," I breathed. "True soul mates in every way."

Chapter A/N:

This story turns AU at Renesmee's birth.

This is just to give you a little background on how Jacob and Renesmee got to where they are in the beginning of the story.

Oh, and I don't Twilight or any of its characters… Stephanie Meyer does.

Preface

JPOV

I never thought my life would turn out this way. Not once.

The old saying goes something like 'We are the sum of our decisions'. Everything I've ever done has brought me to where I am today. While I have made more than my fair share of stupid, selfish decisions, I can't say that I regret any of them. It took me a while, but in time I learned that living with regrets is useless.

I had come down the stairs of the Cullen home with intentions of killing the creature that had surely killed Bella. My entire existence was pulling me to the creature, demanding it be killed. In a split-second, I decided that revenge wasn't worth dying for. Killing the thing wouldn't do me a bit of good. I'd end up dead myself. And what's the point in dying in the name of someone you love when they don't love you back?

Bella didn't love me. Not the way I loved her, at least. She never would.

As I approached the landing, I realized that Bella was getting everything she wanted – that was, if Edward was able to save her – and I wasn't part of the pretty little picture. What would be the point in killing the thing and dying when I shouldn't have even been there to begin with? When I was never the one Bella wanted…when Bella begged and pleaded for exactly what was happening…

So, I went with self-preservation. I ran.

After a few months, Seth being in my head became a bother. I wanted to be left alone. The last thing I needed was to exchange thoughts with the most positive person I knew. I sent him back to Sam's pack, but let Leah remain. She didn't phase often and when she did, she didn't bother me.

At first, I was a hodgepodge of emotions ranging from pissed off, to jealous, to disgusted, to hurt.

After a few years, I started to realize that it was time to move on. I still held a great deal of resentment for what had happened, but it became clear that living alone, running, and dwelling on my problems wasn't solving anything.

I didn't know how to move on with my life. I just knew that I had to.

I went home for the first time since it all started. I ate, slept, showered, listened to music, and watched TV. Every few days I made a point to speak to Billy. That was about the extent of my existence. People tried to come by, but I pushed them away. I hated even being in the house. It reminded me of everything that I ran away from. It wasn't so much that I still loved Bella or that I wished things were different; I was still so pissed off at the entire situation. I was mad at the Cullen's, but mostly I was mad at myself.

On the few occasions that I socialized with my old friends, I was miserable. Being surrounded by all the happy-go-lucky imprints and imprintees was nauseating. When Embry came home from college on Spring Break, he forced me out of the house with him. Since he was single and hadn't imprinted, it was easier to be around him. He wasn't unhappy in his life, but he wasn't disgustingly lovesick like the wolves that had imprinted. I could handle being around him.

We stayed quiet for the most part, playing video games and listening to music in companionable silence. It wasn't weird; it was like he understood. He talked about school a little, and he seemed to enjoy having a life outside of the reservation and friends who didn't turn into giant wolves.

By the time he left to go back to school, my mind was made up. I'd start college in the fall.

NPOV

Looking from the outside, you'd think my life had been perfect since the day I was born.

Hardly.

Aside from the obvious unusual facets of my family dynamic and being half vampire, my life was pretty normal…the type of normal that should be considered normal, not the idealistic meaning of normal where everything is roses and lollipops. Except when I was a child – which was less than three years – those days really were 'roses and lollipops' normal.

Once adolescence began, things changed.

I didn't have any friends my age, human or immortal. It was as if everyone expected me to be just fine with being surrounded by adults and no one else. Like any normal person, I wanted to socialize. They tried to shelter me from the outside world. I felt like a prisoner. My biggest treat was going shopping…but even then I was dragged wherever everyone else wanted to go and wore what everyone else thought I should. I couldn't complain, at least they let me out of the house.

I traveled with my parents to my grandmother's island a couple of times. It was beautiful, but it only felt like prison in paradise. The outdoor activities were different and exciting, but I was still alone. I wanted a companion. Someone to play with, to talk to, to understand me. Someone I wasn't related to.

Being forced out of the public eye wouldn't have been so bad if I at least had a friend or two. Rosalie and Alice tried to fill the void, but Alice made me feel like her toy and Rosalie was more like a second mother than a friend.

I'd seen so many movies and read so many books that my imagination went wild with dreams of things I'd do when I was able to escape the prison they called my home. Dad went through a spell where I wasn't allowed to watch local television channels because I'd see commercials for things like skating rinks, bowling alleys, and arcades. I'd beg and plead to go with no success. They offered to build me my own and buy all the arcade games I wanted, but what fun was playing alone?

On a few occasions, my parents caved and took me skating. They were worried the entire time that I'd run into someone and project my thoughts into their mind or say the wrong thing or forget to call them by their first name instead of Mom and Dad.

My desire for more than just friends kicked in when I physically reached about fifteen. Every other hot guy on TV became the object of my affection. I'd write stories about the things I thought of doing. My laptop was home to countless tales of love and physical affection.

Dad hated it. I should have probably tried to avoid thinking about anything like that. It only further fueled his reasoning for keeping me from the outside world. I wanted to date, to have a boyfriend. Things like that weren't an option, though. How could I find a boyfriend if I was rarely let out of the area surrounding our house?

A few weeks after my sixth birthday, I took my life in my own hands. I was about sixteen physically, and growing every day. The thought barely crossed my mind right before I grabbed my wallet, jumped out of my bedroom window, and ran.

I ran as fast as I could through the woods. Once I reached the gas station a few miles down the road from our house, I knew I was in the clear. It was noon and the sun – by the grace of God – was shining, so no one could come after me. Even if they tried to drive to where they most certainly knew I was, they would have to get out of the car – sparkles in full effect – and drag me with them kicking and screaming right in front of everyone at the gas station.

I immediately went to the ATM and took out as much as the machine would allow – five hundred dollars. It felt so strange to be alone and in a public place. I walked around the outside of the gas station for a few minutes before deciding to approach a young-looking guy who was pumping gas into an older model Ford F150. It didn't take much money or persuasion to get him to drive me to the bank – where I emptied my account – and then to the airport.

I hopped on the first plane to one of the sunniest places I could go without a passport – California. Freedom was scary. I had no idea what I was doing. After a few days of staying in a cheap motel – the only place that would reserve to someone under the age of 21 without a major credit card – luck paid me a visit. I met a nomad named Warren.

Warren and I bumped into each other while I was out wandering the streets in search of some form of entertainment. He knew I wasn't human but couldn't figure out what I was from a distance, so he approached me. His brown contacts didn't do much to disguise his blood red irises from my enhanced vision. I didn't care, though. I was just happy to have someone to keep me company. We walked around talking for hours. He was charming, flirtatious, and God he was gorgeous. I had absolutely no experience with anything like this before, but it wasn't hard to guess that the boiling feeling all over my body was pure lust.

We spent a lot of time together and became close friends. After a few weeks of fantasizing about him and spending every waking moment with him, I was set on getting what I wanted. Part of it was ridiculous, adolescent rebellion. But a large part of me just really wanted to hook up with Warren. Any female in her right mind would want to. He was sweet and well-mannered yet seductively handsome.

We went to the beach one night. I'd never seen him so close to naked before. I knew he was well muscled from the numerous times he'd wrapped his arm around my waist or hugged me against his chest, but I had no idea just how unbelievably flawless he was.

I convinced him to come back to my motel room for the first time since we'd met almost a month before. I wasn't sure if it was the pent up anger and frustration or the fact that I was ridiculously attracted to him, but when we entered the room I immediately pushed him into the wall – knocking the sconce off and almost making an indentation of his body – and pulled his lips to mine.

He asked me "Are you sure?" hundreds of times that night. Every time he was about to do something new, he asked. I was abso-fucking-lutely sure. Virginity be damned, I wanted Warren. Not as my boyfriend, not as my mate. No, I wanted to use his body to satisfy every lustful fantasy that had ever passed through my mind. He was only seventeen physically and twenty one in actuality, so convincing him to do everything I wanted wasn't that difficult.

The conversation following the first time we had sex was unexpected and awkward. Warren had the wrong idea. He thought I wanted to be with him as more than friends. I hardly expected anyone his age – neither actually nor physically – to be hurt by a girl suggesting they only be friends who satisfy each other physically. He got over it, though.

Since then, Warren and I were just that. Great friends who had mind-blowing sex.

I'd call my mom or Rosalie from a payphone every couple of weeks, but that was the full extent of the communication with my family. I wasn't surprised that no one was putting money in my bank account. Dad had probably put his foot down about that. My money eventually ran out and I had to go home. I had only been gone for about four months.

It took a lot of persuasion and guarantees of sexual favors to get Warren to come back with me. Especially since I told him he'd either have to go vegetarian or travel a few hundred miles to feed...and that my father was a mind reader and he'd need to try to avoid fantasizing about me if he wanted to keep his genitals attached.

When I got back, Dad wasn't quite the asshole I thought he would be. He was pretty upset with me, but he didn't try to boss me around or keep me locked up. That was all I wanted. He hated Warren at first, but I put my foot down and insisted he be nice if he wanted me speaking to him again. Dad also made it a point to make me feel guilty for stringing Warren along like I did. Warren knew exactly what he was getting out of me – good friendship and sex – and it wasn't my fault if he kept hoping it would turn into something more.

A/N:

I like to imagine a slightly younger Smith Jarrod from Sex and the City as Warren. YUM!