Disclaimer: It's all Stephanie Meyer's. I'm just twisting it to be my fanfic which makes no money and does not mean i own anything other than the plot.

"Just because Fate deals us a tough hand, gives us cards we don't like, doesn't mean we fold."
-Anonymous

Chapter 1

Weeks had passed since that day. Charlie had sent out a search team around midnight. I had somehow managed to stumble straight into one of the members of Charlie's search team the next morning after waking up under that tree. Jacob Black.

He carried me back to my house. Despite all my protests. He insisted that he carry me and that it would be no trouble. If I had been in a state to notice, I would have noticed that he carried me a good distance easily.

Charlie had welcomed me back into the house with an awkward hug that he had meant to be comforting.
I - for my part - had been nearly catatonic. Sure, I moved, I breathed, I mumbled the necessary - but short- phrases, but something had been missing. I felt - physically and emotionally - the pain from the hole that had been ripped in my heart. I got up in the mornings, depressed from lucid nightmares. From then on I went through a daily routine like a zombie. I showered, dressed, pretended to eat then went to school. At school, I talked when talked to. Even then my answers were one or two words at most. I uttered a phrase now and again when it was unavoidable. If anyone ever even mentioned the Cullen's in passing - well, if it were even possible, I became even more silent and withdrawn, sometimes flinching physically as though struck by an unseen force. During class, I paid strict attention to the teachers and my notes. I took notes almost obsessively over things I already knew, over reviews. Anything to keep my mind occupied. Lunch was a quiet affair on my part. I did not speak and soon, I was not spoken to. After school I headed straight home to do homework and cook dinner for Charlie and I, although I never really ate much that first week. I just kind of sat there picking at my food, eating just enough of it to fool Charlie into thinking I had eaten enough. After eating, I'd throw myself into my homework and studies no matter how easy or how little I had to do. I'd rewrite essays just for the sake of having something to do, something to keep me occupied - to keep me from remembering him.
Okay, so I'll admit it. I went crazy.
But think about it. How could I not? He was my life, my protector, my lover, my reason for waking in the mornings, my reason for living. Without him, I became an empty shell, a shadow of myself.

For those of you that think you know what I went through, for those of you that have truly lost a loved one no matter the circumstances, you know that there is almost a cycle. It differs from person to person, but there is a sort of cycle everyone goes through when they grieve. It's like a finger print. It's different from person to person but the logistics are the same. A finger print is made up of raised lines and depressions on a finger arranged in patterns, which, although different from person to person, can be similar. The grieving 'cycle' is the same. There's the period of depression, mourning almost. Some people are quiet about it, hiding how they feel with fake laughs, fake smiles and feigned illness when they can't take it anymore. Others withdraw into themselves becoming quiet, less outgoing, less vibrant. Others, like me, nearly stop living. They become catatonic during this time and shut down all thoughts but those necessary for life. After that, there's usually a period of anger. Questions like 'why did he leave me?' and 'why is this happening to me' are the most prominent questions asked. And, finally, after that is the last step. Acceptance. Finally after depression and anger, relapses from one to the other, relapses from acceptance into depression or anger, the person, one grieving, accepts what happened, accepts that it was out of his or her control and begins to move on.

Sometimes, though, the person needs a rude awakening much like someone dumping a bucket of cold water over a sleeping person. A harsh reality check is what it took for me to finally begin to break out of my depression. Surprisingly enough - for any normal person that is - this proverbial bucket of cold water did not directly come from Charlie, my father, as one would expect. Instead, the water was poured over my head by a very worried - and warm - Jacob Black.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver, wondering who could possibly be calling. Charlie was in the other room watching the game and all my friends had quit calling when they realized that I had quit talking and trying to make me talk was futile. It was also a Tuesday - too early in the week for it to be Billy asking Charlie to go fishing with him again. Plus, the game was on. Billy would have waited until after the game.
"Hey, Bella." The deep, husky voice sounded warm and friendly even through the telephone. It was Jacob. There was no denying it. "Listen, I need to talk to you. I'd much rather talk in person than over the phone so meet me at the beach… the one where the clam bake was held that one time… Meet me there Saturday at noon, got it?"

I was unsure of what this would mean, wary of why he might want to talk to me in person, but curious at the same time. I would go. I told him that and he hung up quickly, not giving me a chance to back out as though he were afraid I would. Honestly, I thought as I replaced the receiver. I would go if only because his abrupt manner had aroused my curiosity.

The thought of the meeting on the beach with Jacob that coming Saturday at noon became my distraction for that week. I let my curiosity roam free, but not my imagination. Letting my imagination go wild always promised to be dangerous. Dangerous and painful.

Saturday dawned sunny and clear. No clouds in sight. A perfect day for any mortal going to the beach. I occupied myself with other things to keep from thinking of how the sunshine and lack of clouds could be a bad thing as I got dressed. I donned the necessary jeans - necessary for Forks at least - and a t-shirt, one that I had not worn often. The t-shirt was plain black and slightly tighter than most just as the jeans were more tattered than the pairs I usually wore. I didn't realize really what I was dressing in. I didn't really care much for my appearance. I only took care to dress warmly enough for the beach in the middle of November. I walked down the stairs - careful not to trip - to the kitchen. I had to eat something. Nothing in the kitchen really seemed appetizing to me at all as though I really were not hungry even if the growling and grumbling of my stomach said otherwise.
I grabbed a granola bar quickly before walking back up the stairs to grab a jacket and the keys to my truck. At the speed my truck went, it could take a while to get to the beach.

I arrived at the beach slightly after noon. The sun was high in the sky, but the breeze off the ocean kept the temperature low. Jacob was already waiting for me down by the waves. He turned from staring at the ocean at the thunderous roar of my truck. The monstrous roar could be heard easily over the pounding of the waves, I'm sure.

I climbed carefully out of my truck paying attention, as I had been for my whole life, to where I stepped. The path way leading down to the each looked treacherous from where I stood and - to me - it was, in its own way, dangerous.
I sighed and began walking down the path, combing the downwards slope of sand with my eyes in attempt to avoid any possible dangers. It was probably inevitable though and somehow I have a vague feeling that I knew it was going to happen.
I tripped and fell. My tumbling descent was slow at first then, as gravity took its hold on me, my tumble sped up, only to stop abruptly and… warmly?
I looked up from my close up view of a sand covered step, craning my neck to see Jacob leaning over me. Somehow he had gotten from where he had stood by the waves to where we were now, towards the end of the path just before a small set of steep wooden stairs.
His arms were between me and the ground holding me tightly - but gently - close to his chest. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so, but I didn't really mind. I was at a point where nothing really fazed me, not tripping and falling, not the pain, not anything. His face though, nearly fazed me. He looked so… concerned, so genuinely and completely concerned that I would have had to have been completely uncaring and cold to not be the slightest bit phased. Although, where his arms were might have helped a bit with that too. One arm was around my chest and uncomfortably so for me, although he might have disagreed and said that having my boobs crushed against his arm was not all that uncomfortable while not incredibly comfortable. His other arm was around my waist, hand nearly on my butt, perhaps a millimeter away. I couldn't exactly tell but I knew it was awkward enough for him to quickly pull me to my feet, for that is what he did, with a slight flush on his face.
Unfortunately for me, his sudden movement - and consequently the sudden lack of support - caused me to nearly fall down the sand covered wooden steps… again. Jacob held out a hand that I grabbed quickly in order to steady myself; however, he did not let go. Not until I was safely - well relatively safely - on the beach.

Once on the beach, I dug my toes into the sand as I waited for Jacob to explain why he had asked me to come here, why he needed to talk to me, and most importantly, what he had to say.
"Bella…" Began Jacob before he stopped suddenly and sighed running his hand through his shaggy hair (A/N: I know its supposed to be short but this is my story MINE!! If you don't like my way of twisting things like Jacob's hair and the werewolf thing then stop reading!). "Bella, I don't know how to say this… So just bare with me and hear me out, okay? Please?"

I nodded. What else could I do?

"Bells, I know that le-Edward left and I know you love him, but this isn't healthy." he sighed and continued in the same gentle, friendly voice I would soon come to associate with Jacob. "You mope around and don't eat enough. You don't smile, talk or laugh." He sighed again as he tried to get the words together. "He might have been your life. He might have been your reason to live, but he's not here. He left. As much as it hurts, you have to decide now. Its one of two choices, Bella. Keep moping around like you are now or accept the fact that he's gone and work towards moving on."

I opened my mouth to protest this. I could never move on. I knew it. I loved him. I knew that I would never forget him like that.

"Wait, Bella," he said holding up a hand until I shut my mouth. I glared a bit at him as he continued. "I didn't say move on. I don't expect you to even if you wanted to I doubt its possible to completely forget and move on. No matter what he said. All I said was work towards moving on."

I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, his logic made sense to me. I couldn't - and would never be able to - completely move on, but I could accept the hand fate had dealt me. I could play the game with what I had been given without whining for and pining over what I didn't have. It would be hard, especially at first, but I would give it a try.

Please Review. I'd really like to know what you guys think of it.