Disclaimer: Characters and concepts belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Author Note: Breaking Dawn was unsatisfactory, so I'm giving Jacob and Leah the ending they should have had. For the purposes of this story, Jacob hasn't imprinted on anyone and the packs remain on civil - even friendly - terms. For now.


See You In The Light

By

Silksteel


The alarm blared seven o'clock into my left ear and, without thinking, I picked it up and hurled it at the far wall of my bedroom. There was a smash, and a sigh from downstairs that I knew was my mother, lamenting having to buy me another clock. It was my third this month. Stupid werewolf strength.

'Leah-' came the wheedling voice at the door, accompanied by a brisk knock. 'You need to get up, there's not much time.'

Mom was being particularly patient since it was Sam's wedding today. I practically had a free pass to act the brat – not that anything usually stopped me. Fate had decided to piss all over my pathetic excuse for a life, and there wasn't a single person in La Push that begrudged me. Well, except maybe Black. He, at least, knew how I felt.

'Leah –'

'I'm coming, I'm coming,' I muttered, throwing back the flimsy sheet – no need for proper bedding when you had super werewolf central heating – and rising into a stretch. I felt a piece of my former alarm clock crunch beneath my foot. It was an inauspicious start to the worst day of my relatively short life.

There was another, more timid knock.

'I said –'

'Leah, it's Emily.'

'Oh, sorry, Em.' I was off my game. I could smell her now – it was the scent of blueberry muffins that gave her away. Woman was always freaking baking. Mind, it wasn't like the boys didn't appreciate it. Emily was the only one who really catered to their never-ending need to feed. 'Come on in,' I told her, opening the door.

I'd prepared myself well for this. I'd gone dress shopping with Emily for the express purpose of desensitising myself to the idea of her impending marriage. I'd even been a good enough friend to tell her, truthfully, that her first choice of hideous and frilly made her look like one of those little dolls rich folk used to hide their spare toilet roll. In return, she'd let me choose my own bridesmaid dress, saving me from the whims of her occasionally horrendous taste. Anything to lessen the sting, I suppose.

No amount of preparation would change what was happening today, however, and seeing Emily's nervous, overjoyed expression, was like a slug to the gut. I arranged my features into a smile and hoped I wasn't grimacing. She didn't seem to notice.

'Rachel will be here any minute,' Emily flustered, shooing me out of the way as she began to make my bed. An irrational urge to snap at her overcame me, but I distracted myself by unhooking my dress from its hanger. She liked to clean; needed to, really, as a way of dealing with her anxiety. 'She said she'd do our hair and make-up.'

I snorted as I stepped into the puddle of strapless silver I'd chosen as a nod to my colouring in the form I usually took. It fell just above the knee, and fitted my body like a second skin. I wouldn't admit to myself – or anyone else – if there might be a secondary motive in my mind. It wasn't a crime to look nice at someone else's wedding. 'Not much to work with here,' I commented when Emily looked at me questioningly. I ran my hand through my short crop by way of illustration. I'd cut it a few months after Sam and I broke up because he'd liked it long and I could still remember the feeling of his fingers stroking through it.

'Never say never,' another voice replied, and Rachel danced into my already crowded room, her hands laden with cosmetic cases and electronic appliances. 'Emily, you look beautiful,' she said genuinely, throwing me a grin directly after and raising her eyebrows at my dress. I pretended not to notice. Hers and Kim's were the same colour, only longer and less calculated.

'Let's get this over with,' I groaned, planting Emily firmly down on the bed and letting Rachel work her unholy magic. When she tried to pin down the bride with a pair of eyelash curlers, Emily's terrified expression made me laugh until I almost threw up.

'I don't know what you're laughing about, Clearwater,' Rachel murmured, her voice muffled by the lip pencil between her teeth. 'You're next.'

'You come near me with those things and I will bite you.'


Sam and Emily had decided to hold their wedding on the beach. Normally in the Olympic Peninsula, this would be the kiss of death, given that it rained for approximately every day of the damn year. However, there were a few benefits to knowing a fortune teller, even if she was a bloodsucking leech. Oh, Alice couldn't see us specifically – something which I was eternally grateful for – but she could see the surrounding area, and correctly predict when they'd be having a heat wave. The happy couple had simply scheduled accordingly.

It was close to ten in the morning when we made it out of the house at last. Seth and Mom had gone on ahead to greet the guests. It was to be a small wedding with only the pack, their families, and some of Emily's relatives from the Makah reservation in attendance. I knew Sam had deliberately kept it small – one of the younger pack members had accidentally let it slip that they didn't want too many witnesses if I lost my head and phased.

I'd been sore about that for a while. Other than the way I tormented the others when I was part of Sam's pack, I'd been a model citizen. If I could have only made him feel a fraction of the pain I lived with every day, it might not have been so frustrating. He'd hurt me so badly, so irreparably, that spreading it around was the only way I could think to deal with it. I was beyond caring what sort of person that made me. I was here for Emily, because I'd promised. She was like my sister, and I couldn't let her down.

'Ready?' I asked, as we stepped out onto the sand of First Beach. I was surprised when Emily suddenly grasped my hand.

'Leah, I – I just wanted to thank you,' she told me sincerely, a hesitant smile forming on her ruined face. 'This means a lot to me, and...and to Sam.'

I felt nauseous. It had taken me a long time to forgive Emily for what had happened – and I still hadn't forgiven Sam. I didn't want either of their gratitude. I just wanted to get through the day. 'I know,' I said at last, mustering a smile from whatever reserves of strength I had left, and handing her the bouquet. 'Showtime, Em,' I whispered, joining Rachel and Kim behind the bride as we prepared to walk down the aisle.


Every step had been torture. Sam and Emily were so in love that it was painful to watch, and so I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the best man instead. Surprisingly, Jake had been the one to step up, despite the divide that had split the packs in the first place. He was, I noticed, staring straight back at me as they read the vows. There was an expression on his face that, I imagined, mirrored mine. He looked handsome in his black tux, and abjectly miserable.

It had never been my intention to form any sort of friendship with Jacob Black. Aside from our families and the fact that La Push was practically married to itself, we had nothing much in common. He was younger than me, and took to hanging out with Bella the former-human-turned-bloodsucker. I still don't know what I was thinking the day I joined his pack over Sam's, but I suppose I'd have taken almost anything to get away. That Jake proved to be a great Alpha worked in my favour. That I'd had to watch the Cullen bitch break his heart proved that there was no justice in the world. Even the tirade I'd unleashed on her after Jacob took off for the afternoon was only momentarily satisfying.

The day Renesmee was born, Jake and I raced halfway to Canada and back, and though it was mostly in silence, what he did say was eerily close to the way I felt every day since Sam had left me. I think I respected him more as a leader after that, and because he was holding out on the dreaded imprint. I also think it was one of the reasons I stuck around after the whole Volturi mess. Without a murderous horde of vampires to occupy my mind, that fact was all too obvious to Jacob.

'You want to get out of here?' a husky voice murmured in my ear as I stood awkwardly on the outskirts of the wedding party. The rings had been exchanged, and it was almost time for the throwing of the bouquet – something which I definitely didn't want to be around for. Second-hand happiness didn't really appeal to me.

I looked up at Jacob, his eyes warm and full of concern. I rolled mine. 'I'm fine,' I snapped, but it sounded hollow, and as he wrapped a hand around my upper arm, I let him lead me away.


We walked in silence for a while, only pausing for me to kick off my stupid, impractical shoes and leave them abandoned in the sand. Jacob had smiled at that, and I was relieved. I couldn't stand the pity – no, no it wasn't pity, more like…compassion – in his eyes. It reminded me too much of when it had first happened, and everyone felt so sorry for me. Poor, heartbroken Leah. All the allowances they made for me at first, until it became clear that the wound he'd left behind wasn't healing and the only barrier I could put between the world and my raw, constantly scratched heart was anger.

'You look like a freakshow in that get up,' I told him, and tugged his bowtie askew. It looked ridiculously tiny on his almost-seven-foot frame. Jacob wiggled his eyebrows at me.

'Yeah, right, did you see how those Makah girls were staring at me?'

'Probably wondering whether to report you for steroid abuse,'

Jacob waved a hand dismissively, as if he hadn't noticed that he dwarfed everyone around him. He wore it with pride though, not like he was some sort of genetic abnormality. Since we'd – grudgingly in my case – made peace with the bloodsuckers, Jake seemed less ill at ease with his place in the world.

'You can't talk anyway,' he retorted, stopping to pick up a pebble from the beach and hurl it into the ocean. I counted twelve skips before it sank. 'What's with the dress? Hoping a bit of leg might lure Sam back?'

'Hah,' I barked out. 'You've all seen me naked at least half a dozen times -' a blush crept up the back of his neck – 'If Sam was so easily tempted he'd have jumped my bones long before his wedding. Anyway,' I smirked self-assuredly, and gave a little twirl like a supermodel. 'I like my dress.'

Jacob looked surprised at that. No shocker there. With the exception of the occasional nude scene – and I tried to limit those for Seth's peace of mind: no one should be forced to endure graphic thoughts about their sister – the other wolves generally considered me sexless, just one of the guys. It was enough to give a girl a complex. Apparently, if you were a Quileute werewolf, the only sort of girl you were allowed to fantasise about was the petite, dark-haired, human kind.

'Leah Clearwater, are you admitting to being a girl?'

I smacked him. 'I've always been girl, moron,' I said as Jake rubbed his arm and sat down on the wrecked bow of an upturned fishing boat. 'That hasn't changed just because I turn into a big grey dog every so often.' And that, of course, was the problem. I was different. I didn't belong anywhere, even among my own kind. I was a freak among freaks – the only female shapeshifter in the entire history of the tribe.

I sat down beside him. Something of my mood must have shown in my face because Jake was giving me that look again, like he'd give me a hug if he didn't know I savaged anyone that tried to show me the slightest kindness. 'Stop looking at me like that,' I muttered, my shoulders stiffening with discomfort.

'Like what?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Like you feel sorry for me, Jake. Like I'm some pathetic, heartbroken outcast.' Even if I was. 'Like I'm not the bitter harpy that makes pack life so unpleasant for all of you. Like –'

'Why did you come today?' he broke in, and the question paused me. There were too many possible answers to consider. I guess in a stupid way I wanted closure, even though I knew Sam and Emily were a done deal a long time ago. He tried to fight for me at first, tried to fight the connection. In the end he'd just said he wasn't strong enough, that I deserved someone who could give himself wholly to me. And he'd said that he couldn't deny himself the chance for happiness beyond comprehension, a sense of completeness that eclipsed anything that we'd built between us two hopeful mortals.

My lips pressed together. That memory stung. Sam still felt guilty about that, but the longer I held onto my resentment and my anger, the more he was inclined to try and convince himself that he hadn't done anything wrong. Imprinting took away choices, and with them responsibility. No one could blame Sam for what had happened. No one except me, and even though I did...

'You don't hate him,' he said wonderingly. 'You want him to be happy even if he's not with you.' Jake shook his head. 'You're a better person than anyone gives you credit for.'

What I hated was the fact that we'd spent so much time together that he knew how to read me. 'Shut up –' I snarled fiercely, kicking sand all over his fancy outfit, my hands shaking slightly as they gripped at the hull.

I felt a splinter pierce my palm. 'OUCH – dammit!' I spat, feeling close to tears as I ripped my hand away from the offending surface and held it up to my face to inspect the damage.

The splinter was the size of a large needle. Part of it was painted a fading blue, and I could see my blood pooling beneath it. Between the emotional savaging I'd already experienced, it only made sense that the remaining torture be physical. On the scale of average bodily injury in my life, it was pretty major. Especially since my only true catastrophe – almost getting myself torn to shreds by a newborn vampire last year – had been averted by a whisker. And Jacob. Who was gently taking my hand in both of his.

'Black –' I growled, trying to yank it back. He held on, his fingers gripped tight around my wrist.

'Hold still, you stubborn wench,' he muttered, and I watched in horrified fascination as he brought my hand up to his mouth. I felt his lips brush my palm, the heat of his breath on my skin, and a sharp sting as the splinter slid free.

He spat it carelessly into the sand as I jerked my arm away, folding it defensively across my torso. For a moment, Jacob looked almost angry, then it faded away to resignation. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind at the last moment. That was probably just as well. Jake and I had settled into a relatively amicable truce, but things could still get pretty nasty sometimes.

'I'm sorry,' he said quietly. 'I wasn't making fun of you.'

I knew it anyway, and I didn't want to think about it, because that would mean acknowledging that Jacob was right.

'I miss her,' Jacob admitted suddenly, his face turned out towards the ocean. I didn't have to ask who he was talking about. 'Every day.'

'I know.'

I stretched my legs out in front of me, gazing critically at the red-brown sheen of my skin, and the tiny, vein-like copper stretch marks that shone in the sun. Since the change, I'd grown six inches and, even with my supernatural healing powers, my skin was struggling to keep up. I didn't mind so much; the less I looked like my old self, the better I felt. My eyes wandered to Jacob again, but he was looking at the sand, his shaggy curtain of black hair concealing his face.

'You should have kept it short.'

'What?' Jake screwed up his face in confusion. I wanted to pinch his cheeks.

'Your hair,' I elaborated. 'It looked better short.'

'Oh.' There was a smile in his voice.

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, before the sound of voices shouting our names reached our superhuman ears.

'They're taking the photos,' Jake told me, standing up and shaking off the sand that I'd kicked all over him. He turned to give me a questioning look.

'You go,' I told him, mustering a weak smile. 'I'll be there in a minute.' I didn't want my photograph taken. I didn't want to know how it looked to feel like this.


Endnote: Reviews gratefully accepted, especially if anyone has advice on Americanising (Americanizing?) my writing, since I like canonical accuracy!