Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Twilight characters and am merely borrowing them for the duration of the story. The various new characters introduced to the story are all mine.

A/N: This new story is the sequel to "United We Fall" so if you haven't read that, it's probably a good idea if you do or various elements of this won't make sense. Alternatively feel free to PM me with any questions, I'll be happy to answer them.

This is more or less an all human story, in as much as the two main characters are all human, although some wolves and vampires will appear later on.

The story is rated 'M' for adult themes and it's slash, as are most of my stories, so if you don't like M/M sex, it's not one for you.

Thanks to Elfprincess8 for lending me the image of Edward from her story "Terminus Insontis" for the first few chapters of this story - check out her work, she's awesome!

REUNITED

CHAPTER ONE

September 10, the year 2102

I could feel the wind rushing in my face and tugging at my hair as my feet pounded the earth. I was racing as fast as I could go, panting for breath, looking left and right, desperately searching...searching for something. I didn't know where to look and so I just ran and hoped, while the hole in my chest ached. I was lost.

"Fuck!" I jerked awake and sat up, my upper body slick with sweat and my short hair spiking up in damp clumps. That damned dream again. I hadn't had it in years, not since I was about twelve years old. It was so real, more like a memory of something, although I knew I'd never run through an area like that - or areas. What made it more strange was that each time it had occurred previously, the scenery I saw as I ran was different.

On my tenth birthday, my parents told me something important - something they thought I was old enough to understand. Mom was heavily pregnant with my twin sisters and she and Dad wanted me to know how much they loved me and that the fact they would have to put a lot of time into the new babies didn't mean they suddenly cared any less. It was then that they told me I was adopted - they had chosen me, which made me their special boy.

My parents had thought at the time that Mom couldn't have children. She was twenty-eight and they had already been married six years, so they looked into adoption. At exactly the right time, a two-day-old baby boy was left in the ER of the local hospital and that baby was me. Three weeks after that I went home with Tremaine and Louise Lester and the pair had doted on me ever since.

Knowing I was adopted didn't really make any difference to me on the surface. I was loved and cared for and didn't want for much, but I guess inside I was always curious. Who was my birth mother? Why had she given me up? So when I first had that dream, I immediately assumed it had a meaning - that part of me wanted to find out where I had come from. It made sense that I was searching for my mother, wondering, feeling like part of me was missing.

I never told my parents, even though the dream recurred almost nightly for a couple years. I didn't want to hurt their feelings or make them worry I would go looking for my real mother. I figured she must have given me up because she didn't want me, so why would I go searching when I had loving parents and then two little sisters whom I adored; and whom adored me in return?

By the time I was settled in at the local highschool, work and friends and sports took precedence in my life and the dream didn't come back. It was as if I had accepted I was where I was meant to be and there was no need for me to search for something I could never have.

"Damnit," I muttered now, hauling myself out of bed.

It was six-thirty, way too early to be up on a weekend, but I was strangely unnerved by the dream's reappearance and I headed for the bathroom, deciding to take a quick shower before Claire and Chloe got up and wanted my attention. I stood under the hot spray with my eyes closed, still thinking about running through the forest. I could only assume it was because my life was about to undergo a big change and I was anxious about it.

I was eighteen, about to leave home for college in just a week's time. Seattle was one hundred and sixty-five miles from the Neah Bay Reservation - not far, but far enough for me to only be able to get home for a visit every few weeks. I would miss Mom and Dad and my sisters horribly, I knew, but more than that, I would miss my girlfriend, Suzannah. Not many young Makah people made it to college and Suzannah was not one of those few. She had already started working in the local grocery store and although we had vowed to each other we would stay together, I knew she doubted I would want to keep seeing her when I made a bunch of new friends and got out into the big wide world and in all honesty, I really wasn't sure if we could make it work with her attitude being so negative.

I sighed heavily and got out of the shower, dried myself vigorously and went to make coffee. I was seeing Suzannah later that day. It was Sunday and I was having lunch with her family, then spending the afternoon with her. We would talk about it some more - I would be home again in just a few short weeks for a long weekend. It would work.

After lunch, we walked on the beach and Suzannah told me she wanted us to break up. She didn't want me to feel like I was tied to the Rez for her and she knew she would work herself up into a state every day, worrying about what I might be doing, if I was meeting girls who were smarter, prettier, more outgoing and broadminded, more suited to me, and wonder if I was having fun without her. Strangely as I walked home later, I wasn't heartbroken - I was pissed. She had no faith in me, expected me to leave her or fool around and I thought she was selfish for breaking up with me right before I went away with such high hopes for my future. It almost seemed to me as if she wanted to spoil my excitement by saying 'well, you can't have everything.' Stupid perhaps, but that's how I felt.

I was more resentful than ever that my last week at home was marred by Suzannah throwing away a year-long relationship - one I had thought was good and solid - and also irritated with myself for not making more effort to fight to keep her. I could probably have changed her mind if I had been determined enough, but too much of my mind was on other things. Therefore when Dad drove me to Seattle the following weekend, my belongings packed in the back of the truck, ready to start my four years as a Sports Science major, I found I wasn't looking forward to it half as much as I should have been.

"You alright, son?" Dad asked after I had sat beside him in silence for almost an hour.

"Yes, thanks. Just nervous, I guess," I shrugged.

He reached out and patted my knee. "You'll do fine. You know how proud me and your Mom are; you're the first Lester ever to have gone to college. Just remember, any time you need anything, you only have to call."

"I know. Thanks, Dad."

I relaxed a little and the rest of the journey passed slowly with one stop for gas and food. We arrived on campus just before three o'clock and went looking for my room. The student accommodation blocks included basic rooms which had to make use of communal bathrooms and slightly better ones with en suites. Dad, of course, had paid extra to make sure I got a bed in one of the best rooms and when I opened the door to number 214, I found the room was a decent size with a bed and a small chest at each side and a shared wardrobe and mini-fridge. The bathroom included toilet, sink and shower and was pristine.

There was no sign of my room mate yet and Dad helped me move my boxes of belongings in and put my clothes away in one half of the wardrobe and the chest on the side of the room with the window. Too bad my room mate wasn't here to fight his corner - I was having the window side.

With everything unpacked and the bed made up with the new bedding I had brought, I went out to wave Dad off and watched, feeling a little lost as his truck disappeared from view. Then I took a little time to explore before I headed back to the room. It was Saturday and I had thirty-six hours to orient myself properly before classes started.

My room mate still hadn't arrived and I plugged in the portable television Mom and Dad had bought for me and stood it on top of my chest beside the small new microwave oven they had also given me. I found a sports channel showing a football game and sprawled on the bed, my attention only partly on the game as I thought about Dad driving home, Mom and my sisters back on the Reservation, Suzannah carrying on with her life without me. I felt like something was missing - that stupid dream I'd had last week seemed to have stuck with me and I was still puzzled and annoyed about why it had suddenly decided to bother me again.

About an hour later the door opened and I glanced up as a boy staggered into the room under the weight of a huge suitcase in one hand, a bookbag, a laptop case and another case which looked like it might hold a musical instrument slung over his other shoulder. He dumped the case just inside the door and closed it behind him and I stared in disbelief. Every school or college has at least one weird kid, but why would I have the bad luck to get one of them for a room mate?

I took in jet black, obviously dyed hair, slicked back with enough gel to most likely make it immovable in a hurricane; black eyeliner, an eyebrow piercing, a long black coat and boots with steel toe-caps and about a dozen buckles. His face was impossibly pale, probably not helped by the black hair and clothes and the combination made him look sickly. I hauled myself up reluctantly, deciding I ought to make an effort to get along with him. He was around the same height as me, I realised as I straightened up and I met eyes of a startling shade of green that reminded me of the forest.

'I know him.'

The thought surprised me and I frowned. I'd never seen the kid in my life and if I had, I probably would have made a concerted effort to walk in the other direction before I ran into him. But still, there was something...

He stuck his hand out towards me in greeting and I frowned deeper as I noticed the black nail varnish. Jesus.

"Hello. I guess I'm your room mate."

"Do you have a name?" I cocked an eyebrow and shook his hand briefly.

"Um...sorry...it's..."

'Edward.'

"...Edward."

His pale skin flushed slightly and I felt the colour begin to leak out of mine. I hadn't really thought of his name a second before he said it; it wasn't possible. Edward certainly wasn't a common name. It must just be...I glanced down and caught sight of the American Airlines address tag on his suitcase which clearly said 'Edward Masen'. I heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow I had seen it when I was looking him up and down.

"I'm Jacob." I sat back down on my bed. "Where are you from?"

"Chicago."

"Don't they have colleges in Chicago?" I blurted.

He looked at me, startled as he laid his laptop case and book bag on the other bed, then opened up the third piece of luggage to reveal an electronic keyboard. Great. He'd probably be playing miserable Goth music at every opportunity.

"I didn't mean that to sound...off," I added grudgingly.

"I wanted to move somewhere new. I'm majoring in American History and the colleges that offered places for that were limited," he said.

"Ok."

"What's your major?"

"Sports Science."

"Are you from Seattle?" he asked.

"No, Neah Bay. It's a Reservation over on the coast, a way past Port Angeles."

He nodded and took his coat off to reveal black jeans and a shirt displaying a skull and a band name I had never heard of. He had a wide leather strap buckled around one wrist, decorated with small silver skulls and a similarly designed belt covered with studs slung low around his hips, used for decoration rather than to hold up his pants. I turned my attention back to the ball game, although I kept glancing over to the other side of the room as Edward put away an endless supply of black pants, black shirts, black sweaters, an assortment of leather and silver jewellery and another pair of boots that looked as if they probably weighed twenty pounds. I couldn't see us getting to be even casual friends and wondered idly what my chances would be of swapping rooms with someone.

Edward didn't speak again. He finished unpacking, took off his boots and placed them neatly at the end of his bed, then pulled out a pair of headphones, plugged them into the keyboard and began to play something. I heard nothing other than the repeated rapid tapping of his fingers on the keys and I was relieved that at least I didn't have to listen to some horrible tune vying with my TV. It didn't occur to me for a second that my loud ball game could bother him in any way. However, by then I was beginning to get hungry and I decided to check out the campus canteen and get some dinner. I pulled on sneakers, grabbed a jacket and left the room without a word.

The canteen was about half full and designed pretty much like the ones in highschools. The people serving the food and clearing the tables were obviously students and it reminded me that I would need to find some sort of part time work. I didn't want to be constantly asking my parents for handouts - they weren't particularly well off and I knew that Dad had borrowed money from the bank to pay for my first year accommodation. I had been lucky enough to win a scholarship for my education, but I wanted to be able to pay my own way for the other things. Searching for a likely position would give me something to do Sunday, I decided.

I ate a pasta dish and a slice of pie for dessert, then returned to the room to relax, tired after a poor night's sleep and the long journey. My weird room mate was still in the room, sitting on his bed with his laptop resting on his thighs, typing something without looking at his fingers, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and a frown of concentration drawing his brows together. I threw myself onto my own bed and folded my arms behind my head, deciding to at least try to be friendly. I didn't particularly want to get off on the wrong foot.

"What are you doing, Ed? Working already?"

"It's Edward," he said quietly without looking up or ceasing to type. "My minor is Creative Writing, so I'm...creating something."

"Bit of a book worm, are you?" I joked and earned myself a brief glance and a frown. "Joking," I added. "What are you writing?"

"Nothing that would interest you, I don't suppose."

"Try me."

"It's a short fiction."

"Hey, you don't write those sappy romances, do you?" I blurted with a grin.

I couldn't help myself and I knew I was coming across completely wrong - a mixture of nerves about starting college, missing my family already and lingering annoyance over Suzannah. It wasn't like me at all and Edward visibly bristled.

"It's about an intergalactic war if you must know."

"Ok." I snorted despite my efforts not to and smothered it behind my hand, silently cursing myself. To my mind, people who looked like he did were always into dark and miserable music, horror movies and aliens. So far he seemed to fit right into the mold. "Look, I'm sorry, Ed, I don't want to fight on the first day," I said, pulling myself together.

"Perhaps you could stop abbreviating my name and making fun of me then," he responded stiffly, closing his laptop suddenly and getting up. He shoved his feet into his boots. "How would you like it if I insisted on calling you...Jack, for instance? Or Jerk, which is probably more appropriate."

He opened the door and a second later closed it firmly behind him, leaving me gaping after him in surprise. From the way he looked and the things he seemed to like, I would have expected a quiet, possibly depressed and timid personality, but even though it was over something insignificant, he wasn't afraid to defend himself. You certainly couldn't judge a book by its cover. Perhaps his image was exactly that; just an image - something to draw attention that didn't reflect the person inside. I knew nothing about the guy, but I had to live with him for a year and the last thing I wanted was an awkward atmosphere between us. I would make more of an effort to get to know him without trying to get under his skin.

Several hours passed and there was no sign of Edward. I took a shower, brushed my teeth and put on a clean pair of shorts to sleep in, then got into bed and switched the television on again. I flicked through the channels, finding nothing much worth watching and eventually settled on a rerun of an old adult animation. It didn't really hold my interest and by ten I could barely keep my eyes open. I was about to turn it off and get some sleep when the door opened and Edward came back in. He didn't speak and I watched as he took his boots off, pulled out items of clothing, a towel and some toiletries and disappeared into the bathroom without looking at me once. I heard the lock click into place firmly a second after he closed the door.

'Shit,' I thought. We really had gotten off on the wrong foot and it was my fault. I turned the television off, leaving the room lit only from the moonlight coming in the window. When Edward reappeared fifteen minutes later, I was surprised to see him wearing blue pyjama pants and a white tee, his hair clean of gel and sticking out damply at odd angles, the eyeliner gone leaving him slightly more normal looking.

"Hey, Edward, I'm sorry about earlier," I said, rolling over to face his side of the room. "I guess you were right, I was being a jerk. I don't know anything about you; I've no right to judge."

"It's ok."

"No, it's not. We have to live together, I don't want things to be awkward."

"Me neither."

He got into bed and lay flat on his back, hands behind his head the way I had earlier. I stared at his profile - angular jaw and high cheek bones, square chin, straight nose - and wondered why I couldn't think of a single other thing to say to him. I was usually good at talking and making friends, able to ramble on about any subject that came to mind and draw others into the conversation, but with Edward, I just had no clue. Perhaps it was because I just sensed we had nothing in common. I suppose I could ask him something, make him talk, but what?

"What's Chicago like?" I said randomly.

"Windy."

I smirked. "I heard that. What about your family? Any brothers and sisters?"

"No, just me and my parents. My father's a stock broker. You?"

"I have twin eight-year-old sisters," I said. "Claire and Chloe. My Dad works in construction and my Mom's a secretary."

"Must be nice to have sisters," Edward replied.

"Yeah, they were a bit of a surprise to my parents. I'm adopted; they thought they couldn't have kids. Then ten years later the girls show up. I miss them already."

Somehow I found myself rambling after all and I was relieved that it seemed I could get along with him. However, by the time we settled down to sleep some time later, I realised that I had told him a whole heap of things about myself and the only things I had learned about him was that his father was a stock broker and he liked all kinds of music, but preferred classical, contrary to his image. He hadn't given away a thing.