AN: I know, I know. It's nearly been two weeks. But I am updating! And this is the longest chapter yet by far...

Thank you to everybody who reviewed! There weren't too many this week...and I have to say that they really are what keeps me writing at the moment. If I was doing this for me (no fanfic author writes totally for themselves, no matter what they say) I'd probably put this story off until Christmas break. So...if you'd like me to keep updating, let me know!

That came out sounding far more like a threat than I meant it too. It really wasn't.

Anyway, looking forward to hearing from you all *hint* and hope you enjoy the chapter! Voting's still open for the Wolfpack Awards if you fancy checking that out too *cough* wwwDOTwolfpackawardsDOTwebsDOTcom *cough*

Thank you! xxx :)

"Paul, I –" Rachel stopped speaking almost as quickly as she'd started. "Look, hold on a moment. There's a picnic blanket in the trunk – God only knows why, it's not like the weather here'll ever be good enough for one – and I need to pull over to the side of the road. We need to talk."

His heart plummeted. Was this the moment when she realised that he wasn't good enough for her, that being the mate of a werewolf really wasn't what she wanted to be? Was she going to tell him that she couldn't stay in La Push, couldn't be with him? What with Jake's defection, the pack couldn't afford the loss of another wolf – and Paul would follow Rachel if she left.

"Here." Rachel held a brightly patterned bundle out to him, and he ducked to take it gently between his teeth, nose brushing against her arm as he did so. Even that tiny contact made him feel infinitely better, but there was still the numbness of worry. "You go ahead and change. We should get away from the road." Her hands stroked along the side of his muzzle as though she had to convince herself that he was real; neither of them moved for a long moment. "Go on," Rachel whispered at last. "I'll be right behind you."


Chapter Fourteen

Even in his human form, Paul's senses were sufficiently advanced for him to be able to follow her scent and the slight sounds of movement to where Rachel stood staring with awe up at the wide trunk of a magnificently huge tree. "It must be ancient," she murmured without looking around at him, and Paul marvelled that she had even sensed his presence. "It's beautiful." She turned, then, her eyes drinking him in as if she couldn't believe that she was really seeing him.

"Yeah, it's really...old." He didn't know what to say. The fearful anticipation of what Rachel was going to tell him clouded his mind so that he couldn't think of anything else. How could he discuss a tree at a time like this?

Rachel took three small, tentative steps closer to him, lifted her arm to lay the palm of one hand flat against Paul's cheek. "You're really okay," she whispered. "I thought...God, I don't know what I thought."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he apologised, turning his face slightly so that he could press a kiss to the soft inside of her wrist.

"Where were you?" Rachel demanded. "I came back, and there were your clothes scattered everywhere – there's a dent in the doorframe, and I thought you were hurt. I thought something had happened. God, I was worried sick..." She stepped even closer to wrap her arms tightly around him, held on as if she never wanted to let go. Paul's own arms came up after a second's hesitation to rest around her waist, the soft fragility of her body next to his a comfort that he never wanted to lose.

The boy dipped his head down, ears brushing lightly over her ear as he murmured, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you scared..."

"I wasn't scared." The reply came out quickly, almost as a reflex, and hung in the air between them for a moment before Rachel leaned into Paul again, her head against his chest. "All right, I was. If anything happened to you..." She paused, drew in a deep, shuddering breath which Paul could feel. "It's always going to be like this, isn't it?" Rachel murmured. "I'm never going to know where you are, what you're doing...when you're coming home."

"I'll always come home," Paul promised, his voice rough. But even as he spoke the words he remembered again his previous worry, the crushing realisation that he might not – that the dangerous world which he was a part of might one day keep him from her forever.

"It's always going to be there, though." Rachel pulled back, wiping briskly at the tears Paul hadn't even realised she'd been crying. Feeling terrible for not noticing, he brushed one thumb gently over the tear-tracks on her cheeks, saw her shaky smile. "I'm fine. But don't you dare ever jump out in front of a car like that again, mine or anyone's."

Paul smiled, grateful that she seemed to be all right once more. He wasn't very good at dealing with crying girls. "Rach, I told you earlier. It takes a lot more than a car or a silver bullet to kill me."

"Don't make it sound like a challenge." But she grinned. "So, are you going to tell me why you decided to strip on your way to the woods? Couldn't you even wait long enough to get under cover, or do you have a secret double life as an exhibitionist?"

Paul tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind Rachel's ear with one finger. "Tease. Sam called us away for an emergency meeting."

Immediately, the woman's brow creased, smile dropping from her face. "What's happened? Is everyone okay?"

If it was possible, Paul fell in love with her a little more in that moment for her concern. "They're fine," he soothed her. "Well...there is a problem," he amended.

"Can I do anything?" Rachel asked instantly. "Although...I guess I won't be able to help. You big, strong werewolf types are probably better able to deal with it than me."

Paul winced. "Actually, it's a little...uh...more complicated. It's to do with Jacob." He was oddly gratified by the woman's eye roll

"What's the boy done now?"

"Uh..." Paul considered editing the situation for her, but decided that she deserved the whole truth. After all, he couldn't lie to her, and how could he only tell her some of what was going on? "The girl Jake thinks he's in love with has gone off and married a bloodsucker. Turns out they've just got back from their honeymoon, and she's being turned into a leech, which is against the treaty. But we're not attacking them, and Jake's running off again. Possibly to Alaska, he didn't say."

There was a long silence in which Rachel merely stared at him. She opened her mouth once or twice to speak, closing it quickly each time and swallowing nervously. With remarkable self-restraint, Paul managed not to tell her how much she looked like a fish; a very pretty fish, of course, but he still sensed that she wouldn't appreciate it all that much.

"Jake had a girlfriend?" When Rachel did finally get some words out, they weren't the ones he was expecting.

"No. Well, not exactly. See, the leech was with her first...and then he left her, so Jake was hanging out with her. He fell in love with her, kissed her, she punched him. Then the bloodsucker came back and the Swan girl ran right back to him before telling Jake she loved him too. But in the end she married the vampire."

"Oh, Jakey." Suddenly, inexplicably, Rachel's lower lip trembled, and Paul panicked. She wasn't going to start crying again, was she? He couldn't cope with girls crying all of the time.

"It's not like he imprinted on her," the boy blurted desperately. It was the wrong thing to say; the look which Rachel turned on him was decidedly not happy, and he cringed beneath her glare.

"That really isn't the point, Paul," she snapped. "Simply because the person you love isn't your soulmate – and god knows people seem to fall in love with enough assholes – doesn't mean that it hurts any less when you have to let them go. Sure, he'll get over her eventually, but the fact that he'll probably find someone else way more perfect for him won't make it magically better now."

Paul had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd just been called an asshole, but he wasn't certain so he decided not to say anything. "I'm not saying that Jake isn't hurt," he protested. "It's just...well, it's different when you imprint. And I'm not just saying that, it is."

"I think that it sounds like a cheap excuse to get girls to hang out with you," Rachel replied hotly. "The whole 'oh, I'm your soulmate and I'll never leave you' line is a little overused, Paul."

He stared at her for a moment, his jaw dropped open in shock and horror. "Is that...is that what you think?" he managed at last in a strangled whisper. "Do you honestly believe –"

"No." Rachel dragged both hands back through her hair in frustration. "God, no. I just...it's difficult, you know?" she replied after a second. "It's hard to put all of your trust in something you don't really understand. I left the rez, I went away to college, and it's like that's a whole different world. There are things possible here which are completely...I don't know. This, here, is everything that I've spent the last few year not believing. And now suddenly I'm plunged right into the middle of something which shouldn't exist, which isn't..." She shrugged helplessly.

Paul didn't say anything. He was hurt, yes, but there was another part of him which knew that Rachel had to talk her own way through her dilemma; work it out for herself once and for all. If saying it aloud helped her, well – he'd stand and listen. It was a little painful to hear her discuss it all like this, as if he was a liar or an impossibility or just wrong, but he let her do it anyway. The old Paul would have arguing with her every step of the way, but the new one – the boy who had imprinted – knew that angry words wouldn't help.

"I had a roommate in college," Rachel spoke slowly. "She'd been raised as a devout Catholic – rosary, Hail Marys and all. But you know something? If she bumped into Jesus walking down a corridor, I don't know what she'd do. If she could see him – speak to him – have all that confirmation of his existence, she'd probably still freak out. It's the knowing that's enough...but never expecting to ever actually be faced with it." She took a deep breath. "It's sort of like that. Dad told me the stories, and I always knew he believed them, but they were...stories. Just myths, ideals. Whether I believed in them or not didn't matter, because I was never going to have to see them."

"Except now you do." It wasn't a question or a demand, it was simply fact.

"Yes." She let out the breath she'd taken in one long hiss. "It's one hell of a shock to discover it's all real, even if it's something you've believed in all your life."

"I know." Paul looked down at the ground, not trusting his own face not to show the battling emotions which raged within him. He had the most horrible feeling that he was going to cry. "So what are you saying?" he choked out at last.

For a long, agonising moment, Rachel didn't answer. "I guess...after a while...it becomes sort of normal," she replied at last. It sounded like she, too, was struggling to speak, and Paul looked up to see her eyes damp. "That is...if you're sticking around?"

Paul drew her back into his body; she came willingly, turning her head so that her cheek rested flat against his chest, right over his heart. "In what world would I possibly want to leave?"

They stayed like that for a while, his nose nestled happily into her hair. Paul loved the feel of her so close to him, how she seemed to fit exactly against him; how their heartbeats thudded in unison, breaths slowing to match one another.

"Paul?" she tilted her head back a little to look at him.

"Rachel."

"I...I like you." She blushed, and his heart soared. "God, I feel like I'm five. I –"

Paul pressed his mouth gently to hers to cut off the flow of her words. "I like you too," he murmured against her lips. It was enough for now.

"If you hadn't imprinted on me, would you still? No," Rachel added quickly as he opened his mouth instantly to reply, "really. I won't be offended if..." She shrugged uncomfortably.

"Honestly?" Paul considered it for a moment. "I don't know. Maybe...maybe not. I probably wouldn't have had the courage to actually approach you – although, having said that, I was coming to talk to you on the beach. I dunno...I'd have probably run as soon as I realised you were Jake's sister, to be perfectly honest."

"You two really don't get along, do you?" She smiled wryly.

"Uh...not really. I'm trying, though," he added – almost truthfully.

"I know. Thank you." The woman reached up on tip-toes to brush a soft kiss over his lips. "So you're saying that Jake would have scared you off me?"

"Not scared," Paul retorted in automatic defence. "Without the imprint, though, he'd be too much hassle. I'm sorry. The thing is, though, is that your imprint is the person best suited to you. Sort of like the other half of you, the one you were made to...uh...live for? God, I don't know. So even if I wasn't a werewolf, you'd still be perfect for me. I just might not have seen it."

"That would've been a pity." Rachel's finger ran in lazy circles right over Paul's heart, making his breathing pick up infinitesimally. "So what does it feel like to know that your whole destiny is written out for you – that you have no choice in the person you lo...like?"

Paul intertwined his fingers through hers, lifted them to his lips. "You tell me."

"But...you're the one who...I didn't imprint...did I?" The woman stared at his with wide, astonished eyes. "That's not possible. You imprinted."

"Theoretically, yes. But would you normally look twice at a sixteen year-old? Let one walk you home?" One eyebrow quirked a little, his head cocked to one side. "How many have you kissed in your brother's garage in a thunderstorm? Jeez, don't answer that one, actually. I don't want to know."

"Damn. You make good points. As for thunderstorms...are you sure you don't want to know?" She eyed him wickedly, a spark of mischief glittering in her dark eyes. "Because thunderstorms are great mood-setters, you know. All you have to do is pretend to be afraid, and you can get almost any boy to put his arms around you...pull you onto his lap..."

She gave a squeal as Paul dragged her right up against him once more, lowered his head so that his mouth was right next to her ear. "Teasing a werewolf isn't a very good idea, you know, babe."

"Teasing you? Am I? I'm just telling you about how storms tend to make boys very...accommodating. You see, it's perfectly acceptable for girls to be afraid of thunder, but the boys have to pretend to be big and strong – even when they're scared too. So they never object when you snuggle in close and –"

"Stop talking. Now." The words came out as a growl, the grip around her waist tightening slightly in angry possession.

"Why would I want to do that?" she breathed. "I'm just saying –"

"I'm serious, Rachel." The thought of her with anybody else infuriated Paul, his blood boiling at the idea that any other man would ever go near her; he was struck with an animalistic desire to mark her as his, but since the only way he could think of right now would probably lead to Billy testing the silver bullet theory, he decided not to. Maybe Haley had a Sharpie at home that he could use.

"Really?" She smirked. "You're really cute when you're jealous."

A strangled half-growl choked Paul's throat. "That wasn't funny."

Rachel leaned in, set her lips to the pressure-point in the hollow of his neck. "I like the growl, too," she breathed, and without even waiting for him to reply she scraped her teeth lightly across the skin of his throat.

"Jesus, Rach!" Paul jerked backwards in shock. "Warn a guy before you do something like that!" With his back to her, he took several deep breaths to clear his head of the intoxicating scent which hung about Rachel's hair, clothes, skin. It didn't really help, because he could sense her close behind him, and he hated how vulnerable she could make him feel. It probably didn't help, of course, that he was clad in only a plaid picnic blanket wrapped low around his hips. Even running around in the forest naked didn't make him feel as exposed as he did right now.

"Paul?" Her voice was concerned, the hand she laid on his shoulder tentative. "Are you okay?"

The boy took one more deep breath which didn't help at all. "I'm fine," he replied, semi-truthfully. "It's just...god, Rach. I'm a freaking wolf. If you bite me, I'm going to bite back, and you've made it perfectly clear that you don't want that."

"Oh. Oh." She gave a nervous giggle, sounding suddenly like a sixteen year-old herself. "I'm sorry." But when he finally plucked up the courage to turn back to face her the glint in her eyes was anything but contrite.

"Jesus," Paul murmured again. Then, on a groan, "Jake's going to kill me."

"What, and why, are you going to tell my brother? It's not exactly any of his business." Hands on hips, Rachel looked less than amused. "Besides, he's run off, hasn't he?"

"Uh...I can't exactly help him finding out about anything, Rach."

"Why not?" Paul tapped his forehead, but the furrow in her brow only deepened. "I don't understand."

The boy paused, stared at her. He couldn't believe that she didn't know...hadn't he told her? He was sure that he had...but then, it was such a part of his life that maybe he hadn't thought to mention it. "Rach, you do know that we communicate telepathically, don't you? Like, in our minds?"

She waved it away with one dismissive flick of her hand which in any other situation would have amused Paul. Such nonchalance about little things like telepathy. "Yes, you told me. What's that got to do with anything? You don't have to tell him anything."

"It doesn't exactly work like that. I'm sure I said something."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Said something about what?"

"It's not just projecting a sentence into someone's head. It's...well, there's a pack mind. Once you're part of it, everybody sees everything. No secrets. Nothing hidden whatsoever."

He watched her mouth drop open in horror, and swallowed nervously.

"So, part of the reason Jake hates me so much is probably because he knows exactly how I feel about you. Everything we've said to each other, everything I think about you."

From the look on Rachel's face, Paul was half convinced that he'd turned into some sort of giant green monster. Self-consciously, he touched his face with one hand to make sure it was still there – it was, but Rachel's horrified stare didn't change.

"Uh...say something, Rach? It's not that big of a deal. It's just –"

"Not that big of a deal?" Her voice rose into a wail, ended on a high-pitched squeak of disbelief. "My brother knows everything I've ever said to you...sees everything you've seen? And you think it's no big deal? Oh, God." The woman buried her face in her hands.

Oh. When she put it that way, he supposed that there was perhaps something wrong with it. Having no privacy was something Paul had become mostly used to over the past year or so, but now that he really thought about it there was definitely something fundamentally wrong about sharing a ,mind with your sister's boyfriend – if that was, indeed, what he was. Making a mental note to sort out that issue sooner rather than later, Paul reached out to gently lift Rachel's hands from her face so that he could see her. She still refused to meet his eyes, blushing furiously.

"It's nothing to worry about. You can't do anything, Rach...it's not your fault." He wasn't sure how exactly he could comfort her, but they were the sorts of things he'd heard guys on tv say when their girls were upset so he thought he'd give it a try.

"I know, but...jeez." She huffed out a breath. "Well, this is awkward."

"Yeah. A bit, I guess."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but made no further comment about it. "We should probably head home. Are you coming back to my place?" she added shyly. "I mean...you can't turn up at home only wearing a blanket. And..well...I liked waking up next to you this morning," the woman finished in a rush.

Paul grinned, lifted her hand and turned it so that he could drop a kiss into her palm. He'd stayed over at her house the night before, curled up uncomfortably in the couch (much to Jake's chagrin). At some point in the early hours of the morning, however, his uneasy rest had been disturbed by the girl who crept in to settle down beside him, clinging close on the pretext that she couldn't sleep.

Billy had been tight-lipped and angry-eyed upon finding them both there, together, but he hadn't said anything.

"I'd love to," Paul replied simply.

But when they got home, nobody was there, and an ominous silence hung over the house. Upon seeing the unplugged telephone – cable missing – Paul knew instantly that something was wrong.

A small scrap of paper caught Rachel's eye where it lay on the coffee table, and whatever it said made her face pale. "Jake, what have you done?" she moaned.

Thanks for reading! Remember to review, because it really will keep me writing... xxx :)