A/N: Warning: Paragraphs.

Disclaimer: I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can so I can, read on the computer without straining my eyes. If I owned Twilight, I could hand-write chapters and pay someone to transcribe them.


Chapter Twelve, Act II: Florid Virid


脳味噌 常に震わせて

荒々と 運命にそむく

もういっそ 俺に生まれたなら

君をぶっ生き返す!

My brain's constantly shaking

I violently defy fate

If I could be reborn into me then I might as well

beat you back to life!

— Maximum the Hormone, "Buiikikaesu"


Leah and ..?

October 3rd, 09:15 PM


Leah hadn't been speaking with him for five minutes, and she already felt exhausted. For someone who claimed to want to talk to her about— well, whatever was up with him— he sure wasn't doing much to convey that. After he had finished rattling off his possessions, he had gone back to fussing with his mesh cup. He hovered over it in thoughtful examination, sporadically crooking his head at odd angles to better see. Occasionally he would nudge the cup over some fraction of a millimeter. I don't know what you're doing, Leah thought acerbically, but I'll bet anything that it doesn't even matter. You're messing with me.

She had just made up her mind to grab her tea and ditch him, but he seemed to sense her intent when she reached to grab hold of her drink. He looked directly at her, finally, holding out his hand to motion her back. "Yes, yes, I know, just a moment. Trust me, it's worth it."

No, I most certainly will not trust you. With a small sip and frown, she mentally observed that her tea was growing cold.

"And... that... should... Yes! Glorious. Now," he grinned broadly and sat back to once again ignore his mesh cup. "Right, right, as we were."

"As we were what? You wanted to tell me something, but so far you've just been screwing around." She fought back the urge to knock the cup off the table out of spite.

"Oh heavens no, this is very important." He looked fondly at the mesh cup. "A wonderful little fire basket."

Fire basket? "Let me guess, you just wanted to show me a magic trick?" That would explain that purple cloth, anyway. At least learning a magic trick to get dents out of cars would be worth my time. When had her life gotten so ridiculous?

He was thoughtful for a moment. "A trick of sorts, yes. Magic in a sense, certainly. However, that is a point we have not yet come to. We ought to stick to the script." His smile this time was a little bit sharper. "Though it is a starting point near ours, in any case. Tell me, Leah Clearwater of the Quileute: what magic do you believe?"

It felt as though her stomach and heart had traded places. "How do you know my name?" She swallowed thickly. "Who... who the hell are you, anyway?"

"I am an old enemy, and I am also a friend. You need not fear me. I know your name, my dear, because I have been looking for you for a long time. You are very important." He raised his brows with a commiserating smile. "You are probably one of the most important women in the world."

Leah blinked. "And you are probably the most unhinged person in the world."

He laughed. "Probably? Oh dear, there's no competition!" He folded his hands under his chin. "Now, please answer my question? If I know where to begin, it will make my explanation more concise." He winked. "Yes, I can see you would prefer this conversation to be as concise as is possible."

"Hey, I don't know who you think you are, or what you think you know about us... But we consider that sort of thing to be private, you know?"

He sighed. "Well, I suppose I'll start from the beginning. You see, my goals are-"

"Look buddy, we're not talking at all until you tell me who you are."

"Ah, well my primary vocation is technically referred to as tracking, but we will get into that-"

"I meant your name."

He raised his eyebrows, as though to indicate that that sort of thing had been the very last on his mind. "You may call me James."

"Is that really your name?"

"It depends upon what you mean by that. It's a common name after all, but the fact remains that it is a name. This name does refer to me; therefore, it is safe to presume that it is, in fact, my name."

"Oh my God, forget I asked. Just do your talk, I don't care." Leah pinched the bridge of her nose; not because she had a headache, but because she'd picked up the gesture from her father. Whenever he did it, whomever nearby that was making themselves obnoxious were inclined to stop. Immediately. No such luck for her.

James blew out a long-suffering sigh. "Now that we have pleasantries out of the way, I really would prefer if you would stop stalling, dear." She restrained herself from punching him. Barely. "As I was saying, my goals are such that are toward the betterment of all mankind."

"Ah?"

"Ah, indeed. Now tell me," he leaned forward, dark eyes boring into hers. "What do you know about your 'cold ones'?"

Realisation impacted her immediately. That flowery stench-! She leapt up from her seat as though burned, her chair skidding to fall upon the concrete with a squeal and a bang—

"Relax, darling, I'm not here to hurt you. At the end of the day, I am but a humble liaison."

"Bull-!"

"Yes, I am a cold one, but I do not cause harm. I wish only to heal."

Her hand froze in its grip on the arm of the steel chair, caught in the net of his words before she could hurl it at his head and start running. To heal. Is he... like Doctor Cullen? She hated them all, but there was a treaty to consider.

"You're talking to the wrong person." Unwillingly, an image of Sam standing protectively beside her swam in her vision. She blinked rapidly against it, aiming her focus instead on the lacy lapels of James' suit. "At least, I'd have to call up some people."

"No, dear. I wish to speak with you specifically. Please, do sit down."

Reluctantly, she did— though with every muscle tensed, ready to phase at the first whiff of trouble. Just don't forget about the treaty. Wait for him to move first.

"Now, you are the daughter of Susan and Harold Clearwater, correct?"

She crossed her arms and said nothing. Wait for him to move— in both action and speech.

"... I see. Fair enough. Allow me to explain. Leah, I do not know what all you have been told of your histories, or if your elders have taken precautions to ensure your confidence— but I can tell you this much. You are living a lie." A lump seemed to have formed in her throat. Does he know what I am, too? "Let me tell you what I know about your life. I do not know if I will reveal anything new, as it is clear you will not tell me on your own. May I?"

"Go ahead." This is just as much my job as running the perimeter. I just need to let him keep talking. I need to find out what he knows and report this to Sam. Just thinking the name hurt, but right now, no matter how she may have felt about him... she really wanted him near. He was her alpha. Gotta stop thinking like that. I need to do this on my own.

"Your ancestors have had the capability to willfully change their fundamental anatomical structure into another form, said to resemble that of a wolf." He waited for her reaction, and seeing no surprise, continued. "I will refrain from giving you my theories upon the genetic backgrounds, for now. This ability, known commonly among your people as 'phasing', has transferred over the generations into modern day, and is activated in your youths around puberty. The transition only occurs whenever a threatening presence is within thirty miles of your home-"

She managed to hold her surprise in check. He knew more than they did.

"-and is only activated in the males." Well, so much for that.

"You formed a treaty in 1936 with a group of those you classify as 'the Cold Ones'. You know little about the Cold Ones in general, apart from what you've gleaned from an attack upon your people many years previous to the treaty. The Cold Ones you accept near your domain are known to you to be docile. Am I correct so far?"

She hesitated, caught off-guard by being asked a direct question. I don't need you knowing any more than you already do. This is bad enough as it is. "Yeah, I think you've just about got it covered."

He smiled. "I'm touched, but it's quite au contraire. This is merely the beginning of my knowledge." Aaand back to wanting to punch him in the face. "As I know it, your Cold Ones go by the family name of 'Cullen'. Originally intruding in Hoquaim?" There was an odd edge to the way he had said intruding, but she couldn't place the emotion behind it. She said nothing.

"Just wondering," he said, rolling his pitch with a shrug of his shoulders. "It just seemed strange that they would wish to come back so near, so soon. After all, you should realise what it means that they first arrived in 1936." Leah looked away from him; his grin widened into something nearly feral. "So strange. Why come back so near, when they have the whole world to uncover? Oh, and the youths! To enroll them into a public high-school, of all places?"

Leah took a small sip of tea, an unobliging attempt to relieve the dryness in her throat. "Aren't you supposed to be telling me things? You have an awful lot of questions. I can't tell how many are rhetorical; are you trying to build up to some big reveal?" I wonder if all Cold Ones speak strictly in villain monologues. She managed not to smile at the thought. It would almost be worth paying a visit to the Cullens to find out.

James continued as though she had not spoken, "I also have heard a rumour that they harbour an invalid."

Her jocular imaginings were shattered, her mind's eye flashing to Billy Black. "Don't you dare use that term around me."

"My apologies. Though I am well-traveled, knowing what counts as tactful vernacular has never been my forté." He finally dropped his simpering smile and regarded her fully. "To answer your previous questions: yes, I do have a big reveal, as you say. No, my questions were not rhetorical. No matter how one tries, nor the extent of one's resources, it is incredibly difficult to know everything there is to know." Leah snatched up her tea, trading between sipping and glaring at it, not quite willing to look him in the face. He hesitated for a moment, before giving her a brief, chilly pat on the hand. "Here, now. I will purchase another cup of tea for you, as repayment for taking up so much of your time. We will finally reach the point next we come outdoors. I often forget what the feeling of impatience is like." It wasn't an apology, not technically— but Leah did feel softened, for all her disliking him no less. Then again, she reflected, it could just be that I really hate cold things. Especially cold tea.

Her hot drink was purchased with little fuss, and they had quickly reseated themselves. It had been a good move on his part. With the paper cup to warm her hands, and the soothing taste of the jasmine, she was nearly able to feel contented in her situation.

"Go ahead," Leah said, allowing a small grin to worm its way onto her face. "You bought yourself a little more of my time." She paused, considering. "A little, keep in mind. Here in Forks, that is our kind of tactful vernacular for make it quick and I won't complain."

"As you will." He seemed to relax more, himself. His posture melted back into his seat, unlike the cramped, wiry position he had taken earlier. She wondered if it was all for show.

"Your wolf ancestors," he began carefully, gauging her face. "They were immune to the Hayflick Limit." He slowly folded his hands, giving her the most Significant of Looks.

She stared blankly.

"...They were able to live for as long as they wanted. They had biological immortality."

Leah chewed on the inside of her cheek. "First of all, if that was supposed to be the grand reveal, it's a bit lacking for me. Second off, I'll have you know that every single wolf in our tribe either died in battle, or..." She trailed off.

"Committed soft suicide," he finished for her.

She shook her head. "Not- not usually soft, no. You have to understand... They had to watch everyone they loved grow old and die. There was nothing they could do to prevent it." She thought about the imprints; that feeling described as love-at-first sight, that unbearable desire to protect. She'd been able to feel it for herself, through Sam.

Focus. She took another sip of tea, tasting for the right words. "The job- their job is to keep everyone safe." Their job. I need to keep myself separate. I can't let him find out what I am. "For someone who literally lives for that, you need to understand— I mean, not having any way to help the people you care about..."

"You'd be surprised," he drawled. Leah stiffened, her last ounce of patience sliding down her spine toward the ground. If this kept up, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from phasing.

"You have two minutes to explain yourself properly, or I'm leaving. You've gone above and beyond speaking without tact." She was proud when she heard how level her voice was, but surprised to find herself automatically mirroring his speech patterns. He seems like that kind of person, though, she reflected. Someone who only takes people seriously if they remind him of himself. I'll bet anything that's the best way to get through to someone like him. She'd never been in this sort of strategic position before, and was startled when she realised how empowering it felt— like her anger was hardening into a shield. She felt strong; she felt important.

He sighed. "Once again, I give you my apologies for not having spoken more clearly. I'm sure you'll be delighted to know this holds mainly with my kind and not your own. We have... certain ways of helping people live to extended age. Do we put enough effort into sharing this gift? No. Absolutely not. Appalling, isn't it?" He offered an unassuming smile. "With this, we've come to the point, once again. I've told you, have I not? I wish to heal."

"Good use of your two minutes," she said rigidly, her mind overcrowding with questions she wouldn't dare to ask. "Go on."

"Thank you, Miss Clearwater. Truly, I meant your tribe no disrespect. In hindsight I realise that the words living a lie, and our subsequent conversation must have led you to believe intended to speak ill of your family." He shook his head, giving a soft, self-deprecating laugh, "Forgive me. It is not they who withhold information from you. Only your elders."

She slowly furled her arms upon the table, and dropped her forehead into the cradle of her elbows. At this point, she couldn't take him seriously; she was too exhausted with him to bother being offended. I give up. Completely stupid, stupidly hopeless, hopelessly tactless.

"I will presume that you did not just faint in slow motion and feel free to continue. Now, genetics! This is the exciting part; I do love my research." She idly wondered if she'd be able to snap his neck if she moved quickly enough. "Now, for my kind, our biology is complicated, to say the least. I'm sure you have your own theories. However, for your kind, it is a simple question of genetics, like any other human."

It was obviously supposed to have been taken as a compliment. Does he really think I can't tell when he's having his own private joke? Oh yes, us Wolf People, we're so simple, quite like all of those 'normals'. Gag. He's worse than the most pompous-punk of high-schoolers.

She vaguely wondered where she'd tucked away her old black nail polish, half-listening to him as he continued. "This gene that runs through your line is being kept hidden away from the rest of the world— I will not insult you by saying it is squandered," Except you just did. "But it certainly isn't fair to the rest of the population. Where is their chance? Why should such a sad fate be decided for them before they were even born?" Good question, Buddy. Oh wait, sorry, forgot you were tactless. How silly of me.

"Now I, for my part, and even others of my kind! Yes, there are some who are willing to help others become more, shall we say, resilient. This is a complicated process, and we're not entirely pleased with the results." He jabbed sharply at the crown of her head, where it was still resting in her arms. She looked up in surprise. "Listen to me, Leah Clearwater. You carry the gene. I have studied your ancestry. You have this amazing tool of healing, hidden away, and you are not tied to the same blood oaths of your brothers. You can help me."

She couldn't think of anything to say. She could not find the right words.

"Any single one of your brothers could have left! They could have shaken off their ties, I know it can be done. Do none of you think? Do none of you- pardon, pardon. I mean to say they. Leah, please." He was, indeed, pleading. It was weird to see a Cold One— not to mention one that was probably a mad scientist— giving puppy-dog eyes. "Please, help me help everyone. Show the men of your tribe that you can protect more than they ever could. You can save the world."

It was a pretty speech; she could give him that much. But... "You hate them. You hate all of us, don't you?"

"Every bit as much as you hate me. We both of us have our reasons. I think mine should be clear to you." He paused. "I have reasoning behind my hatred, and reasoning behind this plan. I do this for the betterment of mankind, I said. I told you I wanted to heal the world. Look at me... Yes, I can see. You don't think I'm anything akin to human, do you? I will admit to you now, I do hold another personal reason for wanting to work toward this. We both hold our own ties, Leah Clearwater. I ask you to set some aside so you may keep a level head for this project. I would not ask this of you without being able to do so myself."

A heavy silence fell in the air; the café behind them had closed by this point; even the wind had died down. It was as though the whole world had gone still. Her blasé attitude fell way from her, unable to keep herself masked away from the implications of his speech. Her mind spun as sharply as fanblades.

What if I refuse? She couldn't ask. She already knew the answer. The gleam in his eye was needle-crisp. No matter what he claimed, he was a Cold One; violent. Steadfast. If he couldn't get what he wanted from her, he'd take another girl from the tribe. Someone who hadn't gotten that fantastical twist of the genetic lottery— the ability to defend oneself from his kind.

Her first and final duty was to protect her tribe. "Okay. I'll help you."

His smile to her was so full of hope and affection, Leah thought it reminiscent of a man who had just set eyes on his imprint. "Thank you," he said softly. "Now, for my gesture. My thanks." He dug through his purse for a moment, before procuring a small set of sewing scissors. "As I have told you, working with the genetics of my kind has its flaw." He clipped a small lock of his hair, creating a remarkable contrast from his otherwise perfectly straight and even cut. "We are full of life," he said. "Nigh limitless, quickening energy." He dropped his hair into the mesh cup. She stared at it as he paused to dig in his purse, almost missing the dull, grating flick of a match. "Each part of our body stores more life than you can imagine. A most fast-acting fuel." He dropped the match into the basket, whipping his hand away with lightning speed.

It was almost beautiful how, as the match fell upon the hair, flame engulfed it for the barest fraction of a second. Nothing but a whooshing flicker in her vision. All that remained was white, dense ash; perfectly in the shape that the lock of hair had been in. As though following her line of thought, he gently tapped his little finger on top of the form. It crumbled into a fine powder.

"This is how we usually die." He looked at her. "This is my gratitude. You have my trust. Welcome to the fold, Leah Clearwater." He was smiling.

She managed not to shudder. Signed and sealed.