My New (Best) Friend

Chapter 1

Hi. I don't own Twilight. Review please!

"Are you sure this is okay?"

"Yes, it will be fine."

"But what if they don't remember me?"

"They'll remember you."

"How do you know that?"

"Because, when you live with someone for eighteen years, you don't forget them or their children."

"But what if they could care less?"

"Then we'll just move somewhere else."

"Without any family?"

"It isn't that bad. I don't have any family, besides you, and we aren't technically related."

"But I've been waiting for ages for this moment."

"Then stop worrying and get this thing started."

"Fine." I sighed. I didn't want to do this. Well, I did, but I was scared. Almost the same thing. I wish I could be like my step-dad. He seemed pretty calm. It was like he knew it would all work out. That's a true bred writer for you, at least that's what he would said. I stared at the picture in my hand, just one more time. A young woman smiled up at me, her face very beautiful, but altered by scars on one side of her face. It was this face that led me to this place. If it weren't for her scarred appearance, it would have been almost impossible, though I know that my step-dad would have figured something out.

I sighed again and looked at the house that had taken me many years to find. My step-dad, or moreof, Dad, rested a hand on my head. I looked at his reassuring smile. "The worst thing that could happen is you being attacked by wolves," he joked.

I rolled my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I started walking towards the door. It was a quaint little house, though it looked somewhat worn out. I smiled to myself slightly. It definitely fit the woman in the picture. If only I knew for sure that she lived here. "Ring the doorbell already," Dad instructed me, not managing to hide his amused tone.

I scowled, but did so. Ding-dong. Such a simple sound. I shivered, wondering if I should bolt. What if all my work had been for nothing? What if they didn't want anything to do with me? What if-

The door opened. I gasped. There stood the woman. She looked older, however age couldn't disguise those bright, brown eyes and the very apparent scars. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to jump down and shout 'I did it! I found her!', but, wisely, I didn't.

She smiled at me cautiously, bringing me back to reality. "Hi," I managed to squeak.

"Sweetheart, you're going to have to say something right now," Dad whispered in my ear.

I gulped but managed to say, "AreyourelatedtoKateFelds?" though probably too fast to understand.

Dad laughed at my attempt. Turning to the woman, still chuckling, he translated; "Are you somehow related to Katherine Felds? Or, I guess, you would've known her as Kate Young Smith."

She stared at us, seemingly in surprise, but I thought I saw sadness flickure in her eyes. "Yes," she replied evenly. "Katie was my sister. If you're looking for her, she left here a long time ago and later died."

"We actually were looking for you," I whispered, trying to be louder. I handed her the picture. "I think I'm your niece."

She looked from the picture to me. "Claire?" she gasped.

I nodded hesitantly. "Oh, my god! Claire!" I was engolfed in a hug.

"Um..." I said cautiously.

"Oh, you probably don't know who I am!" she cried, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm your Aunt Emily! I'm sure you've never heard of me! Oh! And Quil should know immediately! No that wouldn't work! Got to tell Sam first. Oh my gosh I can't believe your back! Come in! Come in!" She ushered us in quickly before yelling, "Sam! Come here!"

In less than a second, a tall, muscular man appeared. "Emily? What happened? Are you alright?" he asked her frantically.

"I'm more than alright! Claire's here! You remember Claire?" she said, hugging him before turning back to me to do the same.

"Claire? As in our niece?" he said, looking at Emily and me in surprise.

"Yes! It's been years! I can't believe it! I thought she died with Katie!"

"Oh, Claire!" I was instantly smashed between the man and Emily. He was really warm.

When they finally calmed down, Emily introduced us, "Claire, this is your Uncle Sam."

"Nice to meet you," I said quietly, feeling embarassed. Dad cleared his throat. "Oh, this is my step-dad, William Felds," I added.

"How do you do?" Dad said, smiling smugly.

Before my supposed aunt and uncle could respond, another tall and muscular man appeared. "Sam, what's going on? Why does Emily look like she won the lottery?"

"Claire's here!" Emily cried going up to him and hugging him. "Embry can you believe it! It's the Claire!"

He looked disbelieving. "You're telling me that Quil's Claire is right here?"

"Yes!"

The man looked at me, then grinned like a maniac and also almost killed me in a hug. "Claire! It's been ages! I'm Embry! Remember me?" he asked, releasing me and laughing.

I shook my head, feeling nervous. Embry noticed my dad. "Who are you?" he questioned suspiciously, almost rudely.

Dad looked like he was trying not to laugh. "I'm the step-dad who was dragged into all this. Call me Will."

Embry blinked, then grinned. "Cool."

"What's going on?" another man said, apearing, looking like Embry and Sam.

Were all the guys here tall and strong looking? (And when I say tall, I mean really tall. Like six feet or taller.)

"Claire's here. Quil's Claire," Embry explained.

"That Claire? Really?" I was hugged once again. At this rate, I was going to be permanetly injured. "I'm Jared! I can't wait to see Quil's face!"

"The doorway is getting cramped. Let's go to the living room," Sam suggested.

Emily beamed and grabbed my hand, dragging me there. The living room was filled with men who were, unsurprisingly, muscular and tall. Most of their black hair was cut short, like the three men I already met. "What's all the fuss about?" one of the younger looking ones yawned.

"Claire is back!" Emily laughed, tears were still running down her face.

"Claire who?...Wait, are you talking about Quil's Claire?"

"Yep!"

How did all these people know me? And why was I 'Quil's Claire'? This was weird, but better than I had been expecting. Before I could ask any questions, all the guys, and there were a lot of them, stood and gathered around me. Laughing and hugging me. It was a very warm. (There skin was so hot that it was almost like they were running a fever.) "I'm Seth." "I'm Brady." "I'm Collin." "I'm Paul." Everyone tried to introduce themselves, but all I got was a blur of faces and names.

After about what felt like hours, but not horrible hours, everyone had calmed down a bit. They still were grinning like mad, but they weren't trying to squeeze me to death, or speaking loudly. "You look different, and you've sure grown," one of them said, smiling down at me.

"Oh."

I was really confused at this point. "Yeah," another added. "But you're still really short."

"I only seem short because you're all tall," I muttered.

They all laughed. "So, how did you come here?" an especially tall guy asked.

"Wait!" Emily ordered before I could say anything. "Claire must be hungry. After everything has calmed down a bit, then she can tell us her story and what she remembers. Alright?"

"Yes, Ma'am," they all chorused, grinning at each other.

"The suspense is killing us, but we will suffer miserably if you give us a meal, along with Claire," Embry said dramatically.

"You just ate," Emily laughed, rolling her eyes. "But fine."

The mob, me with them, walked into the kitchen. Emily made me sit at the kitchen table and put a large sandwich infront of me. The guys were also given sandwiches, which were inhaled very quickly. Emily had also somehow herded in my step-dad and given him a sandwich and a seat across from me. We both hesitantly ate the food. I felt kind of awkward. Emily was practically hovering over me, wondering if I needed anything, if I was tired, if I was feeling alright, if I wanted more food. I kept on telling her that I was fine, but she didn't seem to believe me. "Emily," one of the guys said, "if you smother her now, she won't be able to stand it when she meets Quil."

Emily froze and looked at Sam, who was also frozen. The kitchen went deathly silent. The who had spoken whispered, "Crap."

"How are we going to tell him?" Emily whispered.

"He won't believe us."

"We could show him."

"He'd think that he was going delusional."

"He might freak."

"He might accidentally do something stupid."

"Acidentally? He'd do it on purpose."
"It's a good thing that he was ordered not to kill himself."

"It might break if they meet. Imprints are more important than the pack."

"But why would it matter? If he saw her? Wouldn't that make him happy?"

"Unless he thought it was her ghost."

"But if he felt the gravity..."

"He'd think that he was crazy."

"He's Quil. He already is."

"Be quiet, Embry. This is serious."

"Why don't we just show him?"

"He'd have a heart attack if he actually believed that it was real."

"He can't have a heart attack, and you know it."

"We can't hide it from him."

"Obviously. I think it'd be better for him to freak than remain in his state."

"No kidding. I can feel his depression without being in our w-"

"Shut it, Seth!"

"Sorry."

"You have to be more careful! You do realize that she's in this room!"

Everyone stopped talking and sighed in unison. What was going on? This was weird. I blinked. Everyone was staring at me. "Um...?" I said hesitantly.

"Do you think she remembers?" Embry asked to no one in particular.

"Of course not! Where have you been? He always reminds us of every detail, and that was one of them. She never knew. I mean, how do tell a three year old that?" Paul, I think, or maybe it was Brady, said, rolling his eyes.

"You might want to stop talking, or she might catch on," Dad said, the smug grin still plastered on his face as he leaned back in his seat. "Quil would probably tear you to pieces if you were the one to let the wolf out of the bag."

He was now the center of attention. (I was really confused at this point.) "Do you know the secret?" Sam growled.

"If I'm guessing correctly, than yes."

"Let me talk to you for a moment."

The two of them went upstairs. It was quiet for a few minutes before Emily looked at me with worried eyes. "Do you know the secret?"

I shook my head. Everyone seemed to let out a sigh of relief. As I opened my mouth to ask about 'secret', a voice that was drenched in misery called out, "I'm back."

Emily shrieked. "What are we going to do?"

"Hide her! Now!" Sam yelled, somehow appearing with Dad behind him, who was looking amused, like usual.

Everyone began to run around, trying to figure out what to do. Dad sat next to me, grinning. "This is hilarious," he told me.

I rolled my eyes; "I feel like you're using me."

"Only at this point," Dad laughed. "Later, I'll help you more."

"Sometimes I ask myself why I live with you," I muttered.

The chaos around us became louder. "We could hide her in the closet!" Embry shouted.

"No, he'd kill us later!"

"What is for dinner?" the depressed voice asked and a man, tall and muscular of course, walked into the kitchen.

He had dark black hair that looked very much neglected. It was cut short. His light brown eyes shown with grief. The man had to be more than five inches taller to me, making it hard for me to look up to see his handsome face. It was also depressed looking. What was wrong with this guy? Was he alright?

"Er, sandwiches," Emily answered him awkwardly.

"Sounds good," he sighed, leaving the room.

"He didn't even notice," Embry whispered.

"He's a zombie, remember?" Seth, I think, said, looking sad.

"Then it shouldn't be a problem."

An hour later, I found myself sitting at a long table between Dad and the depressed guy. Neither of them even looked at me. The miserable man was slowly eating his food and Dad was talking with Sam about who knows what. All of the other guys at the table were literally inhaling the food. It was slightly disgusting, but very funny to watch. "So, Miss Ferd, how'd you get here?" Embry asked me, his mouth full of food. (It was a wonder that I could understand him.)

Emily and Sam had very sternly instructed us to not say may name, for some unknown reason. They had also told me not to say anything to the depressed man next to me, since it would be bad if he saw me. The only reason we sat next to each other, they said, was because they didn't want him to look up and catch sight of me. I didn't get this logic, but I went with it. And I still didn't know why it would be bad for him to see me. I mean, if this guy, who I suspected to be Quil, hadn't seen me in years then how would he recognize me?

"Dad found Aunt Emily's picture in my mother's things and we assumed that she was related to Mom, since they looked similiar," I answered, feeling a little nervous.

"So you found us based on a picture?" Jared inquired curiously.

"Um, yeah. I saw the scars and looked up all the reasons for them," I said, blushing, hoping I didn't seem rude. "Then I looked up all the people who had suffered from the reasons and, after about a year, I found La Push."

Sam smiled lovingly at his wife, murmuring, "I guess those scars actually have brought around some good."

She squeezed his hand, smiling back. It seemed so intimate, even if it was a simple act. "So what happened to your family?" Jared asked, but was automatically smacked by one of the men next to him.

"Be more sensitivie, idiot."

I smiled; "It's fine. I don't remember my parents very well. My birth father died when I was five, from a car accident. Soon after, I met Dad, which led to him meeting Mom when I was nine. They got married, but Mom died, from an illness, soon after. Dad's taken care of me since."

"We knew that Kate died, but we didn't know about your father," Emily whispered.

I shrugged; "I don't remember him at all. Do you know why did my family moved away?"

Everyone looked sad. They did that way to often. "Your parents were a little freaked by Emily's...accident," Sam told me, looking guilty. "Kate was convinced that our little gang had something to do with it. And when Quil started hanging around, they decided that leaving was the best option. It also didn't help that your father hated the idea of being involved with Kate's side of the family."

"Why was Quil 'hanging around'?"

It turned deathly quiet. No one answered my question. I sighed to myself. These people had a secret that I doubted I would ever learn. "You're birthday is coming up, isn't it?" Emily asked me, breaking the silence.

I nodded. "How many days, now?" Embry put in. "You're birthday is the twenty-sixth of this month, right?"

The sad man next to me froze. "Idiot," Jared said, slapping Embry's shoulder.

The-man-I-suspected-to-be-Quil stood and said softly, "Excuse me. I'll be on a walk," and left the room. He sounded like he was about to cry. Erg. Why did this bother me so much? I guess I just hated seeing people miserable. Erg.

I looked at the closing door. "Don't mind him," Sam said with a sigh. "He's always like that."

Also sighing, I stared down at my plate. There was a long, awkward pause. "Everyone done?" Emily asked, her voice sounding a little cracked.

From the lack of response, she must've guessed affirmative for she started to the kitchen. We all slowly grabbed our plates and followed her. I offered to help with the dishes, but Emily refused. "You must be exhausted from your trip and all this excitement. You should rest," she told me sternly.

I wanted to point out that she looked a lot more tired than I did, but decided that it'd be rude. Instead I went off to find my step-dad. I found him sitting on a couch, across from Sam. They seemed to be having staring - or maybe glaring - contest in which Dad looked like he was trying not to laugh. I sat down next to my step-dad. Both men's attention immediatly was focused on me. "Hi," I squeaked, very uncomfortable with the situation.

Dad, being Dad, laughed. Sam just smiled kindly at me. There was an awkward pause. I decided to break it; "Uncle Sam? Can I ask a question?"

"Sure."

"Why does everyone seem to refer to me as 'Quil's Claire'?"

He winced. Cautiously he replied, "Quil was rather...attached to you when you lived here. He always went out of his way to...be like a big brother to you."

"To, like, scare away all the bullies and stuff?" I guessed.

Sam nodded. Changing the subject slightly, he asked me, "Do you remember...anything from when you lived here?" I shook my head. "Nothing? Not even the faintest memory?"

I continued to shake my head. He sighed and looked somewhat grim.

I felt awkward. Dad decided to help me, for once. "Hey, Sam, do you happen to have any kids yet?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, a proud expression appearing on his face. "I have a twelve year old son, Adam. He's very reckless and loves running around the woods. Especially since that's usually where Helena is."

"He already has a girlfriend? He's awful young," Dad commented.

"Oh, no, they aren't dating yet. They are way too young."

"Yet...?" my step-dad asked.

Sam looked at me. Dad did the same. I had a feeling that it had something to do with the 'secret'. I sighed and got up. "I'll be on a walk, then," I said, walking towards the door.

"Do you have your...equipment?" Dad called after me.

"Yep."

La Push was pretty place. Everything was green, there were quiant little homes and shops everywhere. Very few people were around, probably because the sun was about to set. I sighed and let my thoughts drift...

What was this secret? I guess it wouldn't really matter except that I was sure that it involved me. Dad knew and was fine with it, or amused about it, so it wasn't dangerous to me, well not in his eyes at least. I trusted Dad's judgement. Regardless how he acted, I knew he cared for me. He'd proven it in countless ways. Though the secret still was annoying! Couldn't they just tell me? It did involve me! Though I guess that that would destroy the meaning of a 'secret'...Why did it have to be so complicated?

But what bothered me more than the 'secret' was Quil, or the man I assumed to be Quil. He was so...so...depressed, for lack of a stronger word. If it was anyone else, I'd have to say he would need a counselor, but I knew this guy didn't. It was like a part of him was missing, like he wasn't...whole. No, that isn't right. It was like he was missing happiness, not that he was filled with sadness, but just missing happiness, which created sadness. Usually when I'm sad, the happines is replaced by saddness. With him, it didn't seem that way. That probably didn't make any sense, but it still bothered me. I felt like no one should go through what he was going through. Would he be okay?

I remembered when I lost my birth father. It had been so dramatizing, I hadn't smiled again until I met Dad. However that didn't even slightly compare to the complete misery written all over that man's face. I really did hate seeing people depressed, but this guy was so miserable that it just made me feel really awful. This was very...disturbing.

From what I heard, the guys back at Emily and Sam's house had seemed to hint that his depression was because of me, which made no sense. Even if I had been like a sister to him, about ten years ago, it wouldn't make him feel like that. Especially since he only knew me for a few years. The answer lay in the 'secret', I just knew it. But it wouldn't do me any good in helping him. For one, I could become very shy at times. Secondly, if all his friends, who knew, couldn't help him, then how could I? Anyways, I shouldn't even be worrying about a complete stranger, even if I had known him when I was really young. It was very annoying to feel things I shouldn't be.

I sighed again. Life was so- "Oh!" I cried as a tripped.

I braced myself for the pain of scraped knees and hands, like usual, when two hands steadied me. Two large hands. That were very warm. Must be one of Sam and Emily's friends. I looked up at the man who was currently holding both my hands. On top of having large, warms hands, he was tall, really tall. Wait a second, I recognized this man! It was the-guy-who-I-suspected-to-be-Quil! And he didn't even seem to notice me at all. Well he did, but his attention was elsewhere. His eyes had a clouded, sad look to them. This was really depressing.

"Um, thanks," I managed to say.

I took a step back, moving my hands away from his. He blinked and snapped all his attention towards me. His eyes seemed to look straight into my soul. I shrank under the intensity. "Claire?" he breathed.

That was weird. No one else had recognized me. They all had to introduced, even Emily, if you'd call that an introduction. I mentally shook myself. I had more important things to worry about, like that stare the from the guy infront of me. "Er, hi?" I said hesitantly.

"Are you real?" he whispered, his fingers nervously touched my face. They were gentle and warm. After a few seconds, he moved his hand back to his side.

The depressed look on his face seemed to dissolve to something happier, which probably wasn't the happiest face. But, come on, anything would look happier than his previous expression.

"I think so," I mumbled, answering his question as I looked down.

"When...How...?" his voice began to waver, then he seemed to shake himself. "Can we start this over?" he pleaded.

Why was he acting so strange? "Sure."

"Alright, then. Hi, I'm Quil."

"I know. I sat next to you during dinner," I replied, smiling. "I'm Claire, though you already know that."

He stared at me. "We sat next to each other and I never noticed you?"

I laughed at his shocked expression. "Yeah. Are you usually that distracted?"

"These days, mostly, but I'm getting a lot better," he said, grinning.

It was my turn to stare. This guy, just a few minutes ago, had been the king - no, emperor - of gloom and doom. And now he was smiling. This was way too...weird. Maybe he had mental condition. "So when did you arrive? Did you come with your family?" he questioned me. "And how did you get here? And why?"

"Um..." I felt very nervous for some reason as I began, "My biological parents died awhile ago. Dad, my step-dad, helped me find La Push and we just arrived."m

"I'm sorry about your parents," Quil said, his words full of emotion.

"It's really nothing," I waved it away, hoping he'd look happy again. It was so depressing to see him depressed. "I don't remember my father, and Mom wasn't a very good parent."

"Is your step-dad alright?" he asked me cautiously.

I smiled. "Yeah. Dad's great."

"What does he do for a living?"

"He's a writer." I grimaced. "It makes him very unrealistic in real life. He believes the most outrageous things."

Quil laughed. He had a nice, warm laugh. "What do you do in your free time?"

"Math."

"Really?" he sounded amazed.

"Yep. I like to be house-bound and I really don't have anything else to do. I want to become a math teacher when I'm older."

Quil looked at me in awe. "Why are you 'house-bound'?"

I blushed and looked at the ground before answering, "I'm really clumsy so I trip a lot and stuff."

"Oh."

Deciding to quickly change the subject, I asked, "So Uncle Sam said that you knew me when I lived here. How'd we meet?"

"Emily was babysitting you and I happened to be there," he told me, and smile on his face as he remembered. "You were really adorable when you were two."

"Thanks," I muttered.

He laughed, making me laugh too. "How long are you staying?" Quil inquired, suddenly looking slightly scared for no apparent reason.

"Well Dad seems to like this place and I have family here, so we will probably stay for awhile, unless Dad gets on one of his 'creative spreese' and wants to move all around the country."

He looked relieved. This guy was really strange. A wolf howled in the distance. My head instantly looked around, realising that I had no idea where I was. Drat. There were trees everywhere so I was probably on some forest path somewhere. I also noticed that it was getting dark. Looking at Quil, I hesitantly said, "Do you have any idea how to get back to Aunt Emily's house? I don't know about you, but I don't want anyone to worry."

"Of course."

As we headed back, the billion random questions interogation seemed to be over, I stared at the ground, trying desperately not to embarass myself by falling on my face. One foot in front of the other, stepping over rocks, cracks in the sidewalk, and other obsticles, one foot in front of the other..."Claire?" Quil's voice broke my consentration.

"Yeah?"

"You're starting highschool this year, right?" he inquired. I guess the interogation was being continued.

"Um, yeah, I guess, sort of," I replied, wondering how far in detail I should go.

"'Sort of'?"

I looked up at his overly curious face. "I'm homeschooled so I'm a little ahead in accademics."

"Why are you homeschooled?" Quil asked. Why was he so curious?

"Dad travels a lot and I'm not very good with people my age and stuff," I said looking down.

"But you are good with people older than you?" he said, a laugh in his voice.

I smiled slightly; "It depends on the person."

"Am I one of those people?"

"I think so. You aren't very - Oh!" I began, but then tripped. So much for not tripping and humilating myself. Oh well.

"Claire are you alright?" Quil frantically questioned me, kneeling down next to me.

I nodded. "I'm fine. This happens all the time. I'll be up in a minute."

Opening my purse, I brought out what Dad liked to call my 'equipment', and what I liked to call 'my first aid kit'. "'This happens all the time'?" he echoed, sounded lost and frightened. I hoped that he was alright and not go back to his cloud of depression.

"Uh, yeah," I said, carefully inspecting my wounds. Both of my knees were covered in blood, but I'd definitely had a lot worse. The palms of my hand were slightly scraped, but there was no blood, thankfully. This was going to be a quick fix. "As I said before, I'm really clumsy," I continued as I applied alcohol to the parts that were bleeding. "I trip at least fifteen times a day. After meeting me, Dad made me carry around bandages. Though those days it wasn't this bad."

"Can I help at all?" he inquired, his voice still scared.

"It's fine, thanks. I'm almost a professional in this area at this point."

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice drenching in remorse and pain.

"Why? It isn't your fault. I would say that it is all my fault, but at this point I think that it's just in my DNA," I said with a slight laugh as I put band-aids on my knees. "See? I'm all better."

Quil instantly stood and offered me a hand up. I took it; "Thanks."

His eyes still showed complete misery, but he smiled at me. I brushed off my skirt and smiled back. "So are you ready to go back?" he asked, voice wavering a little.

"Yep," I replied, hiding a yawn. It was probably almost midnight from the place my step-dad and I had driven from, even if the sun was just setting here.

"Are you tired?" Quil inquired.

"A little."

He raised an eyebrow at my lie, but thankfully did not comment.

All the way back, I did not hurt myself once. Now, before you congradulate me, know that all the credit goes to Quil. Every time I even slightly stumbled, his arms darted around me, steading me. It felt almost eerie. Dad always tried to help prevent me from falling, but he wasn't as fast as Quil so he rarely succeeded. It had to have been the most unpainful walk I'd ever had. It was really weird.

Soon, though, I began stumbling because I was exhausted, not because of my clusminess. And so Quil decided that he should carry me. Literally. Like actually carry me. In his arms. Me. Some random person he hadn't seen for ten years. Who was basically an aquaintance. Yeah. And I definitely didn't think that it was a good idea.

"Put me down," I ordered him, trying to be stern as I fought yawns. "I can walk you know."

"Sure you can."

"I can! I just fall a lot."

"Especially when you're tired."

"I'm not tired!"

"Right."

In the end, he had his way and I ended up just glaring up it him and scowling. Or trying to.

Quil looked down at his sleeping angel as he entered Sam's house. She was so different, yet the same, from what he remembered of her. She had the same stubborn attitude, the same worried expressions that always changed to a big smile. But she was more carefree, and more clusmy. The two year old Claire he remembered rarely fell or did anything like that. And Claire had said that it had gotten worse from when she was a child, too, so he couldn't just be misremembering. Quil quickly decided to brush those thoughts away and consentrate on how he could make his selfish wishes come true, so that she would stay here and he could be a part of her life. After that happened, Quil knew he wouldn't have anymore selfish thoughts. As long as she was happy, and he was around her seeing her happy and safe, he would be content.

"Quil!" Emily's frantic voice cried softly, breaking through his thoughts. "Is she alright? Are you alright?"

He nodded, his gaze still locked on Claire. "You found her," Sam said, coming up behind Emily. "Will was right."

Quil suddenly realized that he was just standing there in the entry way, doing nothing. "Can she stay here?" he softly asked the couple, not taking his eyes of the sleeping girl.

"Of course. Sit on the couch while I get the guest bedroom ready," Emily briskly replied.

As if she heard, Claire tightened her grip on Quil's shirt. "Um, could she stay down here, with me, tonight?" Quil said weakly.

"Alright. We'll tell the pack to try and be quiet," Sam said.

Well...There it is! Yeah! My first Claire/Quil fanfic! Note that I say 'first'. I might make another one if this one is successful. And that's a pretty big if. I tried to get a good solid start, so sorry if it's at a fast pace.