A/N Here's chapter 2 where Claire finally gets some sense knocked into her and figures it out! This is my first time with a lot of dialogue, so I'm a little nervous about how well it reads. Hope it reads like a believable conversation and makes sense! Let me know! Enjoy!

Coming Home

Chapter 2

Claire weaved with graceful expertise through the crowd of passengers in the terminal, mentally berating a tour group whose moronic leaders had called a group huddle smack dab in the middle of the line of traffic. Apparently people's brains vanished the moment they stepped through the metal detectors at security. She gave herself a mental shake, knowing that she would not be this irritable if she had not just finishing a six day trip and had not been stuck in San Francisco for six extra hours, because a crazy passenger punched the emergency exit sign into smithereens during a fit of rage after being told he could not keep his yapping Chihuahua on his lap for take off. She finally reached the taxi queue and gratefully allowed the driver to stow her bags in the trunk, crawling into the backseat and sighing in relief to be finally heading home.

"Claire?" Adam's voice rang out as she unlocked the front door, stepping into their shared Uptown apartment.

"Honey, I'm home!" She called out weakly, quickly dragging her suitcase back to her bedroom. After shedding her uniform in favor of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she wandered into the kitchen to see what Adam was creating. Whatever he was making, it smelled delicious.

"Welcome back. I made sangria—it's on the counter." Claire moaned, which Adam correctly took as a 'thank you—you are an angel!' and poured herself a glass, spearing an extra strawberry to shove in her mouth before speaking.

"I'm so glad to be home!" She declared fervently, making Adam chuckle.

"Well, I was going to wait until after dinner, but I suppose I can give you your birthday present now…" he teased. Her twenty-fifth birthday had been several weeks earlier, but they had both been working opposite schedules, so they had planned to celebrate when they were both home from their respective trips. Sensing his excitement, Claire immediately agreed and was told to wait in the living room with her eyes closed. Adam dashed out and returned moments later, handing her a huge flat rectangle wrapped in cheesy birthday gift wrap with a big red bow in the middle. She oohed and ahhed appropriately before ripping the paper off and staring in shock. She kept two small pictures on her desk: one of her with her parents and one of seven of the pack members in a playful group pose with Jacob holding Embry in a headlock, Sam and Seth doubled over in hysterics, Paul shoving Jared, and Quil front and center with a cocky grin. Adam had managed to enlarge the picture of the pack to poster size, those beautiful, familiar russet skinned faces staring back at her larger than life. Quil's face, closer to life size than she had seen it in years, grinned at her causing her stomach to twist in an unfamiliar fashion. She glanced back at Adam.

"Thank you. This is incredible. I was just thinking this past week about how much I had missed these guys. This is perfect, truly. Thank you so much." Adam smiled, satisfied with her response.

"They really are freakishly good looking." He said with a slight smirk. Claire just rolled her eyes in response. They had discussed several times how growing up surrounded by tall, gorgeous, impossibly well built men had ruined her for life—men in the real world just could not live up. Of course, she could not tell Adam that the reason they were so huge was that they morphed into horse-sized wolves to save the tribe from bloodthirsty vampires; he merely thought that she came from line of unbelievably good genes.

They dined on Adam's latest culinary creation, pasta and vegetables in some kind of tangy sauce. They then proceeded to refill their sangria glasses, taking the pitcher with them into the living room as they settled comfortably into opposite ends of the couch. Claire, with two glasses of sangria coursing through her system, started relating the feelings of emptiness that she had been experiencing recently. She talked for a half hour, wondering out loud what was wrong with her that she could not seem to find what she wanted—that she did not even know what it was that she wanted in the first place. Adam let her talk until her rant finally trailed off. He fixed her with a long, appraising look, causing her to squirm uncomfortably in her seat and stab halfheartedly at the wine-soaked fruit at the bottom of her glass.

"Tell me more about Quil from back home." He finally said, Claire's surprised eyes flying up to meet his at the apparent non sequitur. When he continued to gaze at her expectantly, she answered hesitantly, unsure where this was going.

"Quil Ateara is a guy I grew up with back in La Push. He's quite a bit older than I am—come to think of it, I don't actually know how old he even is…" she trailed off for a moment before continuing, "He was a really great friend to our family—helped me more than I can say after my dad died and then again with the whole cancer situation and my mom. He would sit with her while I went to classes, kept my car running, always got me silly presents that were always just perfect. He was the dearest friend I had back there—I loved him more than anyone else, because he and I just understood each other so well. It was sort of like what we have here," she gestured vaguely between the two of them, "but not, but I'm not sure what exactly the difference is. He really loved my family…" Claire trailed off, looking over at Adam who just raised an eyebrow expectantly.

With a roll of her eyes, Claire continued, "I think I sort of had a crush on him during those last few years, but I was so absorbed in school and my mom that I never gave it much thought. It was a silly little thing anyway—I mean, you've seen pictures of the guy!" Claire flung a hand out wildly, indicating the enlarged photo of a beaming Quil, her forehead crinkling as she frowned at the picture.

"I still write to him, you know. I don't write to anyone else, even my aunt, but I always felt… I don't know, compelled to write to him, just to let him know I was still alive or something. Stupid, I know. He doesn't write back or anything—I never even gave him my address. He probably doesn't even care, probably is married with three kids of his own to chase after by now, I don't even know." Claire shrugged and looked back up at Adam, her expression a little desperate.

Adam met her gaze, assessing the pleading look, and sighed. "Do you actually want to discuss this, Claire? Because I think you know exactly what the problem is, you just don't want to admit it. Hell, I've known pretty much since we met, but we had this tacit "don't speak" policy going on, so I let it go. Maybe that was selfish—I didn't want you turning the tables and bugging me about my life… I figured you just needed to get out, travel, and process things. But you've been living here for over three years, been all around the world, and nada, so I'm not real sure what you want me to do here."

The crinkled lines on her forehead deepened, "What are you talking about, Adam?"

"Seriously, come on, Claire." He just stared at her like she was missing something extremely important, waiting for her to figure it out. "You asked why and I answered." He settled back into the cushions to wait for her to catch up mentally.

Claire glared at him, frantically reviewing their conversation, trying to put together the pieces. She hated when he made her feel so stupid. She had been talking about being lonely, feeling like there was something out there that she desperately wanted but could not identify, she had poured out all sorts of serious, deep emotions—not something she did on a regular basis. All Adam had done was ask about Quil, and she could not see how her life back in La Push had anything to do with what she was feeling now, when she was so far removed from that part of her past.

A deluge of conflicting images and thoughts flashed through her consciousness. Wanting to get out of La Push, away from everything. Throwing herself into work and traveling without taking a moment to think about anything she was feeling. That aching hole of loneliness that seemed to eat at her soul from somewhere deep inside. A deep almost primal longing for something she knew that she desired above all else. Frustration with herself for not knowing what it was that she even wanted. Irritation with Adam for making her dig through the chaos of her own brain.

How did Quil even relate to this? Adam had claimed there was a connection, but what? Some old friendship? Memories of Quil that she had kept carefully locked away for years began to sneak out and mingle with her thoughts. Quil spinning her in circles, making her laugh hysterically—something she had not done in years, probably since her mother's death. Quil's warm, strong embrace as he held her together and kept her from falling into pieces as she sobbed at her mother's funeral. That electric smile of his that had always seemed to increase in wattage whenever he looked at her. The intense, unfathomable look that he sometimes gave her during those last few years, like he was seeing all the way into her soul; the one he would quickly change when if she caught him looking. The slightly crazed look in his eyes when she told him about leaving La Push, before his quick recovery and smile. How he had always made her want to be a better, stronger, more capable person to live up to his idealistic view of her brilliance and potential.

Feelings and memories battled in the foreground of her mind, with hazy dream images interspersed. A fuzzy image of warm arms holding her together and banishing the ache of loneliness. A sea of colored pebbles that seemed to hold a message, trying to show her what it was she was missing. Images flew through her mind at warp speed, faster than she could even comprehend them, confusing her and frustrating her. She knew that the answer was right there, just out of reach. If only she could connect the dots, solve the mystery spelled out in those teasing, taunting rocks. The feeling of those warm arms blocking out that questioning, seeking, yearning ache inside hit her again, stronger than ever. A nearly forgotten memory flung itself wildly into her line of thought, and she gasped out loud at the image of her and Quil sitting on First Beach back in La Push, surrounded by multi-hued stones, his heated arm wrapped around her in the cooling evening air, blocking the chill. Her eyes widened comically, and she lurched up and off the couch, the remnants of her sangria flung onto the carpet.

"Oh my god!" Claire shrieked, comprehension suddenly rushing over her in a crushing wave. "I'm in love with Quil! What the…" the panicked litany of curses that followed spanned an impressive array of languages, and some of the sentiments would have made even seasoned sailors blush. Adam fought back a smile watching his normally emotionally cut off, stoic roommate flail about in vulgar hysterics. After about five minutes of pacing back and forth, grinding the wine laden fruit deeper into the now ruined carpeting, she paused to suck in a ragged breath.

"What the hell?! You knew about this? How? How did I not know this? This is completely insane. I haven't seen him in years! He's, like, fifteen years older than me! My god, he's probably married or something. He probably thinks about me as a prodigal baby sister! Not good, not good, not good!" Claire was babbling and nearing incoherency by this point, "What is wrong with me, Adam! I'm freaking out like a bloody teenager—I didn't even freak out like when I was a teenager. Could you be any more melodramatic, Claire? Ugh!" With a groan she threw her arms in the arm one last time and collapsed next to him on the couch.

"Breathe, Claire." He advised, making a truly valiant effort to hold back a smirk.

"Yes, breathing. Good plan." Claire's hysterics seemed to have ebbed, and her voice no longer held the panicked high pitched edge of her earlier outburst. "This is completely ridiculous, you know. I've been unknowingly pining for something, which turns out to mean I've been harboring a super secret unrequited crush on my former babysitter and family friend! This is sick—I should be on Jerry Springer. Is that show still on? Oh, god, this is a nightmare."

"Nightmare might be a bit of an overstatement, Claire. This is not that bad. So you're in love with someone from back home. You're twenty-five years old, not fifteen—the age difference is no longer a very big deal. You've been in love with this guy for years, albeit unaware. Don't you think you at least need to talk to him? Even if he's taken or not interested, you'll at least have taken a shot. Then you can move on. You're not going to be able to until you talk to him though—and by talk, I do not mean three sentences on a postcard. You said it yourself, you don't see anyone else—they all run together. I know that better than anyone. I would do anything if I had even the faintest whisper of a chance to have something that real again. My chance is gone, but yours still has a hint of possibility. Don't you want to at least find out? You'll always regret it if you don't." Adam leaned back again, spent from his rushed delivery. "Heartfelt persuasion speech over. Just think about it."

Claire sat in silence, focusing only on deep, even breathing, for an uncomfortably long time. "You're right," she finally spoke, "I have to go back. I want to go home. Gosh, I never thought I would say that, but this life just isn't right anymore. I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to fly around the world." She gave a brief laugh colored with a touch of hysteria. "The only place I want to be is right back where I started. I spent twenty years wanting to get out of there and now all I want to do is go back!"

**More to come! Song rec for this chapter: Who Says You Can't Go Home by Bon Jovi! Let me know what you think! I'd love your feedback. Hope you enjoyed it!