Warning: Excessive foul language and possibly some sexual references or insinuations. That's why it's rated T, people; that's why it's rated T.

I'm perfectly aware of the fact that I shouldn't be starting any new stories, especially since there are at least two other multi-chaptered fics I have yet to post on ffnet that I'll be posting, probably sometime soon. And I have two incomplete multi-chaptered stories up already.

… violent ideas. Hafta.

The pairing for this story is Leah/Nahuel, if you couldn't tell from the summary and the characters up there. Don't like, don't read. This is sort of based on "You Have Got To Be Kidding Me" by thunder skies, a really awesome Leah/Nahuel multi-chaptered story that you should all check out. :D Yeah. I got the whole idea of Leah/Nahuel from that, though hopefully this story will be different (I've already got some ideas for it that are way different… you can probably tell from the summary already xD especially if you've read YHGTBKM)… and hopefully I won't accidentally plagiarize YHGTBKM, though it's possible, considering how many times I've reread it and had it ingrained into my brain. o_O

This story is NOT part of the Imprint series. I have a different (and even more improbable! :D) pairing for the Leah fic in the Imprint series. Bwahaha. Can't wait to post THAT one. ^_^;

By the way, I found a "name meanings" site, and according to it, "Leah" apparently means "weary." I think that fits. xD

… anyways. I'll shut up now. :)

Leaning against a wall in the far corner of the spacious room in a hideously poofy, pink bridesmaid dress, I found it quite hard not to hate my cousin.

It was just so easy to do so—fuck, she was still pretty, despite the thick scars marring one side of her face. Throw in the fact that she used to be my best friend until she'd stolen my boyfriend, or the fact that she'd just freakin' gotten married to him, and we were the best BFFs ever. (I don't care if "best BFFs" means "best best friends forever." Shut up.)

I watched Emily and Sam whirl around on the floor together, happiness just pouring out of their very essences (or essence… after all, they were an imprinted couple, and I forced myself to think that, no matter how much it hurt), sort of like the way a skunk emanated a nasty stench, or the way a bloodsucker did… except it was worse, way worse, in their case.

Despite the fact that I was still bitching about Sam and Emily's marriage, I couldn't exactly blame them for being so happy. They'd just gotten freaking married. This was their wedding reception, now. I don't think I've ever seen people not happy at their wedding receptions before. And Emily was nothing special; I couldn't expect her to break the trend of people being happy at their wedding receptions.

But still… after practically being forced into being a bridesmaid (I hadn't wanted to, of course, but there was nothing like a good guilt trip to make a girl with a conscience—yes, I actually did have a conscience, thankyouverymuch—do something, albeit unwillingly), I'd thought I was being incredibly selfless. You know, like on those suckass TV dramas, or whatever. Girl goes out with boy, boy breaks up with girl. Girl becomes bitter bitch, then makes selfless comeback and starts planning original boy's wedding to someone else, and everyone else congratulates her on being such a great person or whatever.

That was my story all the way, except I hadn't actually planned Emily's wedding with her, just acquiesced to being a bridesmaid, and my congratulations were still totally nonexistent.

… Actually, they weren't. The congratulations were here all right, just in another form: the form of gossipy old shitfaces who couldn't mind their own damn business, all whispering to one another about how the bride's cousin used to be the groom's girlfriend, and here she is now, putting on such a brave face, and isn't it such a shame?

… You know life sucks when you start comparing your own (life, that is) to a lame TV sitcom drama.

I was too busy fidgeting with the ugly pink sleeves on my bridesmaid dress, absorbed in my reflections of the past few years and my overall sucky life in general, to notice Emily had finished her first dance with her new husband and was now heading towards me.

(There was no way you could blame me for not seeing her, though. I mean, seriously.)

Only when Emily cleared her throat did I look up. Great. I hadn't congratulated the newlyweds yet, and I hadn't planned to (call it petty revenge), but now that one of them… the newlyweds, that is… was actually standing in front of me, I suppose I had no other choice.

"Leah," Emily greeted me, and her soft voice was warm and kind. I only hated her more for it—it would just make me feel even more guilty than I already did, hating her on her wedding day and all that.

"Hey, Emily," I muttered half-heartedly.

"How are you?" she asked, nothing but concern in her tone.

"Just great. Just friggin' great." I smiled blandly. Yeah, except for the part where you married my ex-boyfriend. I really wish you would keel over and die, you bitchy boyfriend-stealer. Oh, and congratulations on getting married! I could only imagine saying that; surely it wouldn't go over very well with my cousin.

"Leah," she sighed, sounding sort of exasperated now.

"Congratulations," I managed to hack out of the back of my throat.

A genuinely happy smile spread over her face again. Good God, but that girl could change moods quickly. "Thank you, Leah," she said.

"You're welcome." I inserted as much venom as possible into those three syllables. Well, so could I. I wasn't going to let someone like her best me in anything. (Call me childish if you want; I don't give a crap.)

There was an awkward silence, then Emily spoke again.

"Leah… I'd like to ask a favor of you."

I think I had every right to just about blow up in her face. Don't you agree? "What?!" I hissed. "Isn't it enough that you stole my boyfriend? Isn't it enough that I became a fucking bridesmaid at your stupid wedding? Why the hell are you asking me for another favor? Weren't the ones I already did for you enough?!" My voice rose to a slight shriek at the end of my little tirade.

"Leah…" Emily warned, looking all disapproving. I suddenly realized I'd never wanted to phase and tear at anyone's face more than I wanted to do so at that very moment. Some sort-of-sadistic little part of me thought that Emily's face was only half-messed up, and someone really needed to finish the job. "Leah, you're my cousin, and I love you very much,"—sure, try showing it then—"but frankly, I'm getting a bit… tired of this."

Oh, hell no, she did not. "Excuse me?" I spat.

"Leah, I wish you would face this like the adult you are," Emily said, and she actually looked fucking serious. Holy sweet mother of Jesus, the bitch was deluded. Or delusional. Both worked. "All of… it… happened… months and months, years, ago. You need to learn to let go of it and face your issues, and then perhaps you could stop trying to bring everyone else down, and learn to be happy for others." She sounded like a wannabe psychologist or something.

But… ho. Ly. Fuck. Was she serious?!

"Um… I hate to break it to you," I began, and I hated how my voice wavered, just the slightest bit, "but that's"—I pointed in the general of direction of where I'd last seen Sam—"my ex-boyfriend. The one who used to my boyfriend, no ex. The one that you stole?"

"This is what I mean, Leah," Emily explained patiently, like she was Miss High-and-Mighty and everyone else had to bow down to her throne of wisdom and fountain of knowledge or something. "You need to let go of the past, and face the present, or you'll never stop being so…" her voice trailed off.

"So what? Bitchy?" I felt myself grin then, a huge, sardonic grin that nearly split my face in half, but I didn't care anymore. "Go on. Say it. I'm a complete and total bitch, right? A bitter harpy? I need to stop, oh, what was it you said?—bringing everyone else down. I'm right, aren't I?"

Emily didn't say anything, because her new husband said it all for her. He was just suddenly there, his presence commanding and stern. "That's quite enough, Leah," he snapped, like a schoolteacher rebuking a misbehaving child.

Oh. So that was what I was to him now, huh? A misbehaving child.

Well, if I was going to play the misbehaving child, I might as well be the bratty, self-indulgent misbehaving child.

"Oh, it's enough? No, no, I don't think it is," I corrected him. "I think—of course, after you went and fucking imprinted on my cousin, I don't think my opinion counts for much anymore, but I'm just saying, and you might want to listen, because, you know—"

"Lee-Lee, stop it."

And, like the pathetic, pining loser I was, that was all it took for me to break. Just those two little syllables. Lee-Lee.

I stared at the two of them, the newlyweds, for one long moment. Emily looked worried (probably about what guests would think of her after this little drama at her wedding reception), concerned (for Sam, obviously), annoyed (at me), and slightly teary (for her own poor hurt feelings, boo-freaking-hoo), all rolled into one. Sam's face was rather more impassive, but all I could see in his expression was something that screamed, "Leah, I love Emily and not you, so just shut the hell up and go away and stop ruining my happy day!"

It was kind of funny how I could see such a mouthful of words in one facial expression, but oh, it was there all right, and the force of that stupid expression was what made me turn and run. That, and all the reminders those two little syllables, Lee-Lee, brought crashing down over my poor unsuspecting head.

"Leah!" I heard someone shout, over the light music playing in the background, as I dashed for the door, pushing past startled guests and stunned relatives. The voice was Jacob's; I recognized it and chose to ignore it, running even faster. I wasn't even sure why I was running so fast to get the hell out of here anymore; all I knew was that I couldn't stand to look at that expression for even a thousandth of a second longer. Or be reminded again of all the times Sam had called me that, only in a much kinder, loving tone…

Fuck. I'm obsessed.

"Leah!" a second voice shouted; Seth's. I was already out the door, running down the carpeted hallway, past doors and staircases to the exit. I kicked my heels off as I ran, and I heard a satisfying thunk as they hit the wall and fell, forlorn, unwanted, to the ground, not unlike their wearer…

I burst out of the double doors of the event center, where Sam and Emily's wedding reception had been held, panting and gasping for breath. A quick look around to check for people, and upon finding none, I phased and ran, a small part of me viciously glad that I'd just torn my bridesmaid dress (the hideous, $180 one) to shreds.

Running was always the best thing I knew how to do. I was the fastest wolf of La Push, always was and always will be. It miffed a lot of people—like Sam, for instance—that the smallest wolf of them all, a girl, could outrun them all, but it was true, and it was the only thing I had going for me. Running was the best thing I could do, and now I embraced it, dashing away from the event center, from Sam and Emily's wedding, from the whole entire screwed-up day, hell, my entire screwed-up life. Being a wolf and running… it was freeing.

I had no idea how long I ran; just that I stuck to alleys and deserted side streets, and before long, I was navigating the familiar terrain of the forests around La Push and Forks again. It wasn't until my paws and chest began to ache did I finally stop, panting for breath.

I also had no idea how long I lay there on the mossy forest floor, eyes closed, trying not to think about anything in particular. I did know that at one point, Jacob and Seth popped up simultaneously in my mind.

Leah! Leah! Seth's mental voice was frantic with worry… worry for me. It was pathetically sentimental of me to even think about thinking such a ridiculously clichéd thing, but I swear my heart actually warmed just a smidge, knowing I could always count on my little brother to care for me.

Blame it on the past events of the day. I know I did.

Leah, are you okay? Wait… stupid question. I could practically hear Jacob kicking himself mentally in the head. The boy was quite flexible… mentally, anyway. Werewolf stamina and all that? Of course not. I mean… ugh. You know what I mean. I mean… Uh, where are you?

I'm… in the forest. Near Forks. I was going to say "home," but something stopped me. I wasn't entirely sure what.

I'm guessing you don't want companionship right now? That was Jacob again.

I wanted to smile wearily, like all those heroines in movies who faced a great obstacle and came out of the whole thing wiser and shit, but I couldn't muster up the will to do so. I settled for responding to Jacob's educated guess. You guess correctly.

We're here if you need us, sis, Seth said, eager to offer what help he could. He sounded incredibly anxious. It was kind of endearing, actually. Not that I'd ever admit it, of course. I had a reputation to keep up.

My fellow pack members heard those thoughts and I could tell they were amused, just the slightest bit, under their anxiety and concern and all that, but somehow, I wasn't offended. I was too weary to be offended—running a lot did that to a person. Or wolf. (Huh, weary. Maybe I could be one of those wise movie heroines who went around smiling wearily all the time. I just needed the smile, the wisdom, the movie, and I needed to be a heroine. … Scratch that, then.)

Thanks. I'd like to be left alone now.

My request was fulfilled.

Not much time passed after Jacob and Seth withdrew from our mind-link before I caught the scent, and sat up, unable to fall into unconsciousness or anything as wonderful, because fate had decreed that Leah Clearwater did not deserve anything wonderful. (Or even worse—I got something wonderful, got high off it, and then said wonderful thing was taken from me, and I only had farther to fall. Whoo-freaking-hoo; thanks a lot, fate.)

Anyway, the scent caught my attention, because I certainly had never smelled anything exactly like it before, of that I was certain. I would have said it smelled human, except it was just a little bit too sweet to be human, just a little bit too floral. There was something sharp and tangy about the scent, though, not entirely unpleasant, and something warm. The smell was almost human, but bordering on bloodsucker, minus the disgusting part of a leech's scent, if that made sense. It was actually quite a nice scent…

Human, but bordering on bloodsucker.

Shit.

I sat up. It was probably the demon spawn, the offspring of the mind-rapist and the "beautiful swan" (because come on, "Bella" meant "beautiful" in Italian, and "beautiful swan" was just the most ridiculous name in the world, second only to Renesmee, and wasn't it such a coincidence that the so-called beautiful swan and the demon spawn named Renesmee were related?). Jacob was going to bust a gut if he ever heard that I'd nearly gotten high off his imprint's scent.

I heard footsteps then, running. Just one set, though. Ooh, Jacob wouldn't be pleased if ever heard that his dear little spawn had been running around all by her lonesome—

My thoughts were effectively cut off when the footsteps with the exotic scent came into view, bursting through a copse of trees and then sort-of-metaphorically screeching to a halt. He stared. I stared back.

At first, I took in his general appearance. It took me a moment to place it, and then I remembered—it was the half-leech from South America, the one who'd showed up with his bloodsucker aunt, the Psycho Psychic (I'm so witty), her Captain Scarface husband, and another leech with a weird name, and saved everybody from getting beaten up by the bloodsucker royalty from Germany or whatever. (Bloodsucker Nazis. Hahaha.)

I hadn't gotten a good view of him that time—I'd only really seen him run into the clearing, and then he was sort of blocked from my view by the position where he was standing and Paul's massive wolfish frame, but now I assessed him from feet up.

He was tall, over six feet, I could tell. His dark brown skin was testament to the fact that he was more than just a leech, but the speed at which he ran and the way he didn't run screaming from me, the (girlie-)wolf, was testament to the fact that he was more than just a human—besides the scent, of course. He was wearing plain, nondescript, average clothes. A regular old shirt and pants. As I looked up towards his face, all I noticed was that his hair was long, black, and braided, and then I met his eyes, fate decided to royally screw me over, and the world thought it would be a great idea to readjust itself.

That was the only way I could think of to describe it. One moment, bitchy little Leah Clearwater was bitter over the fact that her ex was fucking her cousin, was grieving over how messed up her life was, and the earth orbited around the sun and all that normal stuff. Then, she looked up, met Nahuel's warm teak eyes,—because somehow, I suddenly remembered his name was Nahuel, after the jungle cat, whatever the jungle cat was; we'd been told in that clearing what seemed like ages ago—and all of a sudden, she would have been floating away if it weren't for him.

That was basically what it felt like. Like I could float away at any moment, but he was keeping me anchored to the earth now. The moment I'd looked into his startled eyes, something had formed between us… some bond. It was like… think about whatever it was that kept, say, Taipei 101 up. Then multiply it, whatever it was, a nonillion times, and stick the result between me and Nahuel, attach one end to him and the other to me, and that might almost cover a billionth of the sudden attachment I felt for… for…

Holy fuck, I thought, and then I turned and bolted.

(That was the second time today. I really hoped I wasn't going to make a habit of it.)

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