In a man's letters you know, Madam, his soul lies naked, his letters are only the mirror of his breast, whatever passes within him is shown undisguised in its natural process. Nothing is inverted, nothing distorted, you see systems in their elements, you discover actions in their motives. ~Samuel Johnson

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Leah Clearwater stood on the cliffs of La Push, staring out at the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. She hadn't stood here in over a year-wouldn't be back now if she'd had a choice about it. But unfortunately, the choice hadn't been hers. Her father had suffered a fatal heart attack, and Leah had had to come home for his funeral. The service had been held this morning, and she'd fled the gathering at the house just as soon as she'd been able to manage it. It had been almost unbearable to be there and not show everyone exactly how she felt-not just the grief over her father, but the rest of it.

Up until her senior year of high school, life for Leah had been pretty close to perfect. Well, as much as was possible given that she had a little brother, Seth, who loved to pester her. But she had two loving parents, best friends in Rebecca and Rachel Black, and then, an amazing boyfriend in Sam Uley. He was tender and loving, the perfect guy. He'd won over her parents, and Seth had worshiped him as a big brother. Before long, their names had been spoken as a single unit: "Sam and Leah". She'd lost countless hours of study-time with daydreams of the life she and Sam would have together: how they'd go to college as soon as they graduated, find good jobs, get married, and have the big family they both wanted.

But...there was that nasty little saying "all good things must come to an end". The end had begun late in their senior year of high school. One day, with no warning or explanation, Sam had simply disappeared. Oh, she'd known that something was bothering him-his temper had done a nose-dive in the weeks beforehand-but she couldn't see any reason why he'd just vanish like that. But he had. Sam's mother had been frantic, and no wonder. With how Sam's father had abandoned them both years earlier, Alison Uley had worked hard to make her son into a far better man than Joshua Uley had ever been. And until then, she had seemed to be successful. Sam had been seen as a tribal success story in the making: a full-ride scholarship to the University of Washington, a great girlfriend who was the daughter of a tribal elder...everything to stick around for and nothing to run from. Most of the reservation and many from the surrounding area had turned out to form search parties, aided by the rangers responsible for the peninsular forests. But as the days went by, hope had started to fade for most. By the end of the second week, only Alison and Leah held out any hope that he would still be found alive.

And then, just as suddenly as he'd vanished, Sam had reappeared. But, not the same Sam. In just that short length of time, he'd somehow transformed into an over-muscled TV wrestler, hacked off his shoulder-length hair, and acquired a menacing 'don't bother me' attitude. Leah hadn't let it bother her, though; she'd been too grateful to have him back. She'd tried hard to restrain the flood of questions she wanted to unleash on where he'd been, what he'd done, and why all of it had happened. The few times she'd tried to ask anything, Sam had put her off with things like, "I can't explain it" or "the spirits have a fucking sense of humor". But he'd apologized so much that she'd forgiven him. Not that she'd forgotten her questions, but Leah was willing to wait. Besides, by then they were both up against their final exams, and studying had taken priority for both of them.

At the end of it, though, they'd both graduated. Leah's parents, and Sam's mom, had thrown a graduation party for them, inviting many on the reservation, as well as relatives from other local tribes. And that was when the end of Leah's happy dream had come. Leah's cousin, Emily Young, who was her other childhood best friend besides the Black twins, had come down from the Makah Reservation at Neah Bay for the party. Emily was thrilled to get to see Leah again, and to catch up before they both started their adult lives.

Leah and Emily had had an afternoon of gossip before the party would start. Leah had been excited to have a party and to be the center of attention along with Sam. The party had just reached full swing when Sam had arrived. She'd run to him and thrown her arms around his neck. He'd kissed her quickly, told her she looked wonderful, and looked around for their parents to say hello and thank you.

Then…

"Hi again, Sam. Want some food?" Emily had spoken up from off to one side.

Sam had turned, smiling, and had only said, "Hi," in return when he'd jerked to a stop. He'd stood there, frozen, staring at Emily like he'd never seen her before in his life, like she was the only thing there to be seen.

Leah had touched his arm, spoken his name, but Sam didn't even seem to hear her. It had been Harry Clearwater's rumbled, "Sam," that had seemed to break the spell. Sam had shaken his head, taken a few deep and shaky breaths, and bolted for the door. Leah had tried to follow him, but her father had held her back.

"Let him go, Leah. Let him go now."

She hadn't understood at that moment what her father had meant. But she soon did. After another few days of fruitlessly trying to make contact with Sam—during which time she'd poured her heart out to Emily—Sam had finally returned and dumbfounded Leah by breaking up with her.

"I'm no good for you, Leah. Never was, never will be. You deserve better than what I could ever give you. Go off and make your dreams come true."

"You're my dream, Sam. You and the life we're going to make. I don't know what's going on with you, Sam. I don't understand why you've changed so much, why you're hurting me like this."

"I can't tell you, Leah. This is just how it has to be. Be happy." Sam had come close, kissed her on the forehead, and left. Sue Clearwater had found her daughter collapsed in a heap on the front porch a while later.

Emily had acted strangely for the few remaining days of her visit, walking and speaking almost like someone had contracted a terminal illness—that careful weighing of each word and action. Then Emily had gone home, and rez gossip was that Sam had left, too. It wasn't until he came back a few weeks later—Emily in tow—that anyone understood where he'd been this time.

This time. It was hard for some—especially Leah—not to wonder if this new development didn't explain where he'd been earlier, too. It was unbelievably hard to watch Sam totally abandon her and their dreams. He and Emily were soon set up in a little house of their own, and none of the tribal elders seemed to blink an eye over it, or the fact that Sam turned down the college scholarship he'd earned. In fact, the movers and shakers among the tribe actually seemed to be giving Sam a lot of attention and importance. Worst of all for Leah, her own father was one of them. However regretful Harry might be when he looked at her, she never once heard him chew Sam out over his daughter's heartbreak or for how quickly the young man had replaced the girl he'd claimed to love.

Midway through the summer, Leah finally hit her breaking point. After a screaming match with her father, Leah had packed up and left. Going to Seattle had been impossible with its memories of what might have been; she went the other direction instead, ending up in Portland, Oregon. Leah enrolled at Portland State University, miraculously finding a work study job in the library and getting a scholarship that someone else had turned down. She sent emails to her mom and brother, assuring them that she was fine, but offering no further details about where she was or what she was doing.

As the weeks and months passed, Leah settled into her new life and home. She made friends with her roommate Jana, and girls in neighboring dorm rooms, worked hard in her classes and at her job, and generally tried not to think about the past. During school breaks, she either stayed on campus, or—if the dorms shut down—went to visit the families of her friends. The one thing Leah did not do was go back to visit her own family. Seth managed to weasel an address out of her, and she got birthday and Christmas money. Her heart clenched at the sight of Seth's scrawl and her mother's neat signature, but burned at her father's name in the cards—still unable to forgive Harry for putting tribal business before her wellbeing.

When her first year of college came to an end, Leah moved out of her dorm room and into an apartment she and Jana were subleasing for the summer. They'd both found summer jobs in Portland, and when they weren't working visited museums, went to concerts, or drove out to the coast for beach days. In some ways, that was just like home for Leah, with the beaches, the ocean, and the seamounts, but better because Sam and Emily weren't there. She didn't know what was going on with them, and didn't want to—her family knew better by now than to mention either of those names.

Leah's sophomore year went much like her freshman year had, but with one significant addition. She started dating Chris, one of her classmates and study partners. He was as unlike Sam as possible, but with a strong enough personality to balance Leah's, and patience enough to withstand her relationship issues. Over time, he became a rock she could lean on, someone who could take some of the burden of independence away from her. He really proved it near the end of their junior year.

After one of their study sessions, Leah had opened her email account and found a bunch of messages from Seth's account, begging her to call home immediately. Though Leah was initially resistant, Chris convinced her to find out if something was wrong. And something was. A choked voice that sounding something like Old Quil's daughter-in-law Joy Ateara answered the phone, and when she learned it was Leah calling told her she needed to come home right away. Leah had broken down in wrenching sobs when the older woman told her of Harry's fatal heart attack while out hunting some murderous wild animals with other local men.

Chris was Leah's saving grace; calling her old roommate Jana to their apartment to help Leah pack, contacting the school and their professors to arrange for bereavement leave from classes, and getting the car packed for the trip north to La Push.

"So this is home," Chris commented when they passed the sign welcoming visitors to the La Push reservation and the home of the sovereign Quileute nation.

"It was," Leah answered briefly. In a numb voice, she directed him to her family's house. It was full of people, mostly friends of Sue's who were helping cook and serve food and looking after things. Seth and a few other boys came in from the backyard soon after Leah and Chris arrived—but Leah wouldn't have recognized her brother without Sue beckoning him over to greet her. Seth had shot up in height, his body both bulked out and gangly, face no longer rounded with childhood. Leah's first visceral reaction was, He looks like Sam did. Seth had hugged her awkwardly, and Leah had almost recoiled from the heat radiating off his skin.

"Who are you?" Seth asked the stranger who'd arrived with his sister.

"Chris Martinez. Leah's boyfriend."

That announcement, and the revelation that the couple would be sharing Leah's room while they were there, evoked a growl from Seth that a glare from Sue quelled. Leah stared in disbelief, wondering where her good-tempered little brother had vanished to.

Family tragedy or not, Seth spent a lot of time away from the house, mostly in the company of boys several years older than he was. It didn't take Leah long to hear the gossip that all of them: Jared Cameron, Paul Lahote, Jacob Black, Embry Call, and Quil Ateara V all followed Sam Uley around like he was the Pied Piper, or that the group was considered in some circles to be some kind of gang. She didn't like it, and the one time she brought it up to Seth, he growled at her and snapped, "Butt out, Leah. Pull that stick out and toss it. Sam's not what you're making him out to be."

"He dumped me and started dating our cousin—not necessarily in that order, Seth. Did you forget that?"

"That was almost three years ago, Leah. Give it a rest already."

So Leah spent most of her time with Chris, and with Sue, and tried her best to ignore everything else. Her father's funeral would be in the morning, and she wasn't planning on staying any longer than she had to afterward. The fact that she and Chris would need to go back to Portland, school, and their jobs would be a good reason for an early departure. Leah was even more determined not to stick around when she saw Emily bustling around in the kitchen like it was very familiar territory and Sam sitting in Harry's old chair in the living room. She fled to the privacy of her room, and tried to distract herself by starting to pack. For some unexplainable reason, Leah began gathering some mementos she hadn't taken with her when she'd moved out. Needing a bag to put them in, she pulled an old backpack out of her closet—and stared in confusion at the envelope resting on the bottom of the bag, her name written boldly in her dad's handwriting. Barely taking the time to tell Chris she'd be back after a while, Leah bolted from the house, ending up at the cliffs.

In her solitude, Leah pulled the folded envelope out of her pocket, stared at the inscription again, and then tore it open. She removed a sheet of paper, covered on both sides with Harry's writing. She wondered why her father would have written this letter and then hidden it, never knowing when or if she would ever come back and find it, and then decided to just read it and see if she would find out.

My Dear Daughter Leah,

You may be wondering why I wrote this letter and hid it rather than sending it to you. By the end of this, I hope you'll understand. I don't expect you to forgive me, even once you finish this, and maybe I don't deserve to be forgiven. When you were born, I promised to always be there for you, to protect you from anything and everything that might hurt you. I vowed to bring you, and any other children, up as I had been raised: to honor and respect family and the tribe, to hold and carry on the traditions and beliefs. I failed, Leah. I couldn't stop life…fate…destiny from hurting you, and then I only made it worse when I couldn't tell you what was going on or even defend you like you deserved for me to do. I wanted to, so badly, Leah—but I couldn't. Oaths and obligations as an elder of this tribe forced my silence, in the name of the greater good. And while that might have been to the good of many, it ended up being the worst thing for you. I don't blame you for leaving, or for cutting off almost all contact with the people here. You were looking after your heart and well-being, like you needed to do. I hope that you never lose that, never stop being true to yourself and what you need. I do wish that you had come back, or even simply written back to me, but I know why you didn't. Your daddy had made promises to you that he didn't keep; he let you down, and you had—and have—every right to be angry with me for that. All I can do now is offer my apology and an explanation and hope that it might in some small way, make even a small difference.

I wasn't allowed to tell you three years ago what had happened, and I'm not supposed to now, either, if the truth be told. But I've finally come to realize the truth in the fact that I am still your father and not just a tribal elder, that you are owed better than I—than anyone—gave you, and that I can give you this. I wish I could go back in time and do right by you from the start, but that is a power granted to no one. Choices were made and consequences must be accepted. I know you won't find this for a long time; most likely, not until or unless you come back for a funeral (and with my health, it could end up being mine that brings you home), but perhaps this sort of deathbed confession may earn me some small amount of redemption—with the spirits of our ancestors if no one else. Ancestors. It can be strange sometimes how much impact the past, even the far-distant past, can have on the present. To think that so much of the now for so many people is directly related to one man from long ago is sobering. It would be so easy to blame that man—to blame others as well—but that wouldn't be right, or fair. None of them knew how their actions would play out in future events.

It's also because of that reality that I need to tell you these things. It may make no difference to your future at all, or it may make all the difference. I can't know. But I have to make sure you know these things, so that you'll be aware and prepared if the past should force its way into your future as it did to so many others, affecting your children's futures as my generation experienced.

My dear Leah, I want you to know that I always loved you, more than I can say. From the day you were born and placed into my arms, to the day you drove away, I have always loved and been proud of you.

Leah, think back to when you were a little girl, to those nights when your mom and I would sit with you and Seth around the fire pit, or with other families around tribal bonfires. Try to pull up those stories from the depths of your memories. Think about the legends of our tribe, of where we came from, of what some were said to have been given the ability to become. I hope you remember Taha Aki, my daughter. But if you don't—and many of us did not, either, until his legacy manifested, then in your closet, in a box filled with your papers, you will find a book of stories, and my journal. Read them—but show the journal to no one.

I can only hope that you will understand and accept as truth that I never wanted to hurt you, and that I regretted it every day afterward. I wish you nothing but happiness in your future. You deserve nothing less than joy after your past sorrows.

Your father,

Harry

Leah looked up from the letter to realize that her face was streaked with tears. Her father's pain and grief was manifest in every stroke of his pen on the pages. She couldn't deny that Harry Clearwater had obviously regretted what had happened to his only daughter, but still couldn't understand what oaths would have kept him quiet or what he hadn't been able to tell her. But she now knew how to find out. Tucking the letter away again, she swiftly returned to the town, and slipped into the house through her bedroom window. Back inside her closet, Leah found the box her dad's letter had mentioned, one with "Leah's Papers" written on it in black marker in her mother's handwriting. Opening the lid, she found the books her father had mentioned, one with a reddish leather cover, and the other wrapped in brown leather, both branded with the imprint of a running wolf.

Picking up the red book first, Leah watched it fall open to a page marked with a strip of paper. "Taha Aki and the Cold Ones" was written at the top of the page. Sitting cross-legged in the open closet door, she read a tale that became more familiar with each word. A story of their ancient chief, the spirit warriors, the appearance of Cold Ones who attacked the tribe, and how Taha Aki had become the first of the spirit wolves, becoming one with the animal and defending his people, and how many of his sons and grandsons had been able to do the same. At the end, Leah looked at the bookmark. On it, in Harry's script, was inscribed: "The story is true."

True? She thought, not seeing how it could possibly be. Maybe her dad's journal would help with that.

The journal had, according to the date on the first page, been started about three years earlier.

Samuel Uley is missing, began the first entry. Skimming the following pages quickly, Leah read about how Old Quil had come to see Harry and Billy Black just after Sam had returned, reporting on his changed appearance and fever-like body temperature.

We looked at all the old texts we could find, but they only confirmed what our childhood memories told us: a spirit wolf walks among us again. We went to visit Sam secretly, told him the truth, and showed him the texts. I fear that all of the old tales may be true, and not just some of them. Quil told Sam of the blessing of imprinting, and how he should keep himself ready for it. Sam nearly lost control when he realized he was being told to renounce Leah. My heart bled for him—for them both. We cannot know when—or even if—Sam will imprint, and for him to live alone waiting for something that may never come seems unbearably cruel. But is it any less cruel to Leah, if he remains with her, only to meet another woman's eyes one day and then forget that she ever existed? I wish I knew what to say or what to do.

Obviously, the elders' fears had been realized. Sam had stayed with her until he'd seen Emily at the party, and from that moment on, Leah hadn't registered on his radar at all. It made her feel a little better to realize that Emily had actually tried to fight it, to make Sam go back to Leah. Leah regretted some of her hatred for her cousin when she realized that the scars Emily now carried on her face and body were there because of Sam, and his loss of control when she'd tried to reject him. She hadn't known any of that—Leah had left before that devastating event had occurred.

Later entries chronicled Harry's sadness and pain at watching other young men in the tribe begin the same transformation that Sam had experienced, and how a new—and larger—pack of wolves had been created, come about to protect the area from a coven of vampires who had returned after seventy years, how the enemy had ensnared Bella, the daughter of Harry's friend, Charlie Swan. Leah grimaced in disgust at how the girl she'd known slightly from childhood summers had willingly associated with the walking dead, nearly getting killed as a result any number of times, before finally agreeing to marry one of them and leave with them after she graduated.

Charlie doesn't agree with her plan to marry young, and almost seems to know that he will lose her for good once that happens. But she is stubborn and refuses to be swayed from her plan, no matter how much young Jacob Black pleads with her to change her mind. This is yet another burden that we all must bear: that the need to keep our secrets means that one who is friend to us is now to lose his daughter to the enemy and will never know the truth of her fate. However much pain I carry, knowing that my daughter is far away from me, at least I have the comfort of knowing she is alive and well—Charlie will never have that.

Harry had been unable to really help his friend. Neither had he been able to help his son. Seth had blamed his father for the loss of his sister, for being one responsible for making Leah leave and never come back. Seth had pulled away, starting acts of youthful rebelliousness that escalated until a parental intervention had produced such an argument that Seth had phased in the middle of the living room, in front of both Harry and Sue.

My son has joined them. My ancestors would say that I should be honored that my son has joined the spirit wolves, but all I can feel is sorrow. Seth does not deserve to lose his youth.

Leah smirked some to realize how much trouble Seth had given Sam and the others once he'd joined them, bringing up his sister and what Sam had done to her at every opportunity.

Leah would approve, I think, Harry had clearly agreed with the sentiment she now felt.

The entries cut off abruptly. The final one, dated just before Harry's death, had told of the impending arrival of a large group of Cold Ones, and the decision by the pack to help the Cullens fight them off..

They do not like the Cullens or agree with them, but this enemy is a threat to all. We accept their decision to form this alliance for the sake of the innocents in this area. But I cannot help but feel afraid.

There was nothing else…except one thing. The pages at the very end of the journal were filled with hand-drawn family trees. Brightly colored ink caught Leah's gaze, and she saw her own name at the bottom of one tree. She traced up to her mother, to Sue's father Jonathan Uley, to his father Caleb, and over to Caleb's brother Levi. A small wolf-shape was next to Levi's name, and Leah guessed that it meant that he was one who had been a wolf. He had also been Sam's great-grandfather, she realized. Her name was at the end of another tree—her dad's family this time, and Leah realized after looking at it that her great-grandmother Amelia Ateara Clearwater had been the sister of another wolf, Quil II.

I'm connected to two of them, she realized. And suddenly, the lines in her father's letter about her future and her children made sense. The bloodlines of the wolves were carried within her—it was possible, apparently, that her sons could turn into wolves if the circumstances were right. Now she understood why her father had been willing to break his oaths of secrecy to see her learn the truth—she had to be prepared if the worst was to happen.

"Leah, you okay?" Chris' voice made her jump in shock; she hadn't heard him come into the room.

"Yeah. I think I am—or at least I will be. I was just looking at some stuff that my dad left me.

"It's good that you have these mementos. I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to have your dad give them to you himself."

"Me, too. He wrote that he understood why I left and hadn't come back to visit, but I feel bad now that I didn't act like the bigger person and try to understand him in return."

He didn't say anything in response to that, just helped Leah get to her feet. She tucked the books and letters into the bottom of her suitcase. Then he tugged her toward the bed and they spooned up and cuddled in silence. Cuddling had only just turned into petting and foreplay when a banging on her bedroom door shattered the growing sexual haze.

"Dinnertime," Seth called.

"Cock-blocker," Leah muttered under her breath as she and Chris started walking down the hallway toward the living areas. Strangled growls and choking noises made her stop in her tracks for a moment. If her brother and the other guys turned into wolves, did they also possess the heightened senses of their animal forms? Oh, she could have fun with this. Leah wrapped her arm around Chris and they joined the gathering already lining up to get food.

"Lively group you've got here," Leah's boyfriend observed.

"You'd think we were hosting a pack of wolves, with the table manners not being displayed here," she smirked, appearing to be oblivious to the sudden silence. Many of the guys ended up sitting on the floor from the lack of seating options. Leah settled herself on Chris's lap, and ignored the dark looks that Sam, Seth, and their pack secretly offered. Someone started telling stories about Harry, and Leah relaxed enough to tell a few of her own, days spent with her father, learning how to ride a bike, building a treehouse in the backyard, swinging on the tire swing Harry had hung for them…

When the house began to empty for the night, and Sue had already gone to bed, Leah quietly suggested to her brother, "Why don't you go hang out with your friends, or go for a run, or something?"

"Why? What if I want to spend some time with my sister?"

"I'm not leaving until tomorrow, Seth. And, I've got plans for the next part of tonight that you really don't want to be involved in. You interrupted rather rudely earlier today, and I've got a raincheck I plan to cash in."

Seth's body stiffened and his face twisted when her meaning sank in.

"Leah," Sam broke in, disapprovingly.

"Sam, my brother is a big boy now, clearly. You and I are ancient history, so I would think you'd want to be happy for me that I found someone to mend my broken heart."

"I'll take good care of her," Chris promised over his shoulder, already turning away with Leah tucked against him. They ignored the loud scuffling departure of the group as they reached Leah's bedroom.

Leah and Chris left after lunch the next day. While they were loading the car, Leah took a minute to pull her mom aside and apologize for having been so distant.

"I just didn't understand," she said, meaningfully.

Sue's gasp was quickly muffled. "And now you do?" she asked hesitantly.

Leah nodded. She didn't fully grasp all of it yet—would probably need to read the journal again more slowly, and all of the legends—but she understood enough now that she could finally gain some measure of peace and acceptance of the past.

Thank you, Daddy. I think I will be able to understand. I forgive you.

AN: Congratulations to TheTypeWronger for being the bidder who "won" me in the Tricky Raven Author/Artist Silent Auction, and for giving me a list of interesting prompts for this one-shot. I'll hang onto the others; maybe some of them will get done eventually as well. Thanks to MC for some great idea-bouncing on getting into Harry's head.