So, I'm hoping this chapter well clear some problems out with some of you :) The last part of the last chapter seemed to be misleading to some :D So, sorry ;)

Beholdeth, Chapter 25 !

Chapter 25

Leah Clearwater

"Do you smoke?" Rosalie asked as we were walking aimlessly through the woods.

I snorted. "I don't. But I'm sure a cigarette won't leave any effect on me. I have to try to kill myself as it is, just to get drunk... so no, I don't... why?"

She shrugged and fished for something in her pocket. "Carlisle found these old cigs in his trunk and he gave them to me. Said they were probably still smokeable. Wanna try?"

I smiled. "Why not?" I said, taking one of the cigarettes from the open packet and taking the lighter from her waiting hands. I lit it up, and then held it to my lips, inhaling and taking in the strange, old taste. There was something off about its taste... sort of like... "What is this taste?"

"They're Mexican cigars," she said as she inhaled, a puff of smoke appearing before her mouth, "and they're weird, I know. But you wanted to talk, so why not talk over a little smoke, no?"

"I guess... um... Do you remember Caroline, from the wedding?"

She made a face, but then, she seemed to remember her. "Blue-eyed Indian with insanely curly hair? Yeah, I remember her. What about her?"

I inhaled and let the cigar dangle between my fingers. "She's with Jacob now."

Rosalie froze and eyed me with wide, incomprehensible eyes. "Seriously?"

"Yeah... life fucking sucks," I said, letting my head loll forward as I waited for her to say something, to console me, to make me feel better. She remained silent, occasionally drawing in short breaths from the cigar in her hand. The wind whipped our hair about our faces as we walked in random, irregular circles around the trees listening to sweet, soothing sounds of the forest.

"He... didn't imprint, did he?" she asked tentatively.

I smiled. "No, he didn't. He just... likes her. Strange, isn't it? I know. It had Billy in for a loop, too. He couldn't understand that he hadn't imprinted—I guess the elders were just waiting for the Alpha to imprint and... it's just plain weird. I'm still getting used to it myself."

She sighed and puffed on her cigar. "Is she pretty? I didn't get a good look at her at the wedding."

"Well, she's strange for a Makah. I've never seen one with blue eyes before—Mom said something about her father being a pale face and her mom being an Indian. They're really... striking. She's got Emily's complexion and, like, afro hair."

"I don't like her."

"You don't even know her, Rosalie," I muttered with a small smile as I let my palm rest against a tree, feeling the smooth grains of the wood beneath my skin. "I'm sure she's nice."

"Why are you so keen on her? Isn't she the sleaze bag who's dating your imprint?"

I didn't say anything, and Rosalie pressed further on the matter. "I mean, all the other wolves have, like this, unbreakable bond with their imprint, and they always have to be with them—take Quil and Claire: wherever there's Claire, you're damn sure there's going to be Quil with her, no? But you... it doesn't matter with you. You go days on end not seeing Jacob and you don't seem fazed or affected or anything at all for that matter. Why, Leah?"

She had hit home with those simple words, and she bloody well knew it. She had struck a deep nerve, somewhere within me and I couldn't say anything to negate what she was saying. My mind had been over thinking this very notion ever since that night in the woods and I still hadn't come up with a reasonable explanation. I didn't want to prove Rosalie right though, I didn't want to succumb to the idea that I was actually in love with Jacob Black, and it wasn't the imprint that was pushing me towards him. Now, especially, with Caroline in the picture.

"Leah," she began again, and then, I just couldn't take it anymore.

"What, Rosalie? What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you why I don't act like the other wolves that have imprinted, when I supposedly imprinted myself? Do you want a reasonable, plausible, believable explanation? Because, God, I sure as hell can't give you one. I don't know why I act differently. I don't know why Jacob doesn't feel the imprint. Sure, Claire doesn't feel it, but during the few times I've let Emily talk to me about her imprint, she's always said she felt Sam's heavy eyes on her the moment she met him. She always said she knew there was something different, strange... Jacob has absolutely no fucking idea about the imprint, as oblivious to it as hell. And as it seems, he won't ever get to know about it."

"Leah..." she trailed off, stubbing the cigar with her toe and driving it into the dirt as she looked me dead in the eye, "you know what I've said about this imprint thing..."

"I don't need a reminder, Rosalie. I know perfectly well what most of this means. I just can't wrap my head around the fact that I've been lying to myself this whole time, that I've been trying to convince myself that it's an imprint... that my feelings for Jacob are all because of some magical hocus pocus... But I can't be sure, Rosalie. Did you know I'm not the first female wolf in Quileute history? That there was another female before me, and she was killed shortly after she began phasing? Because I sure as hell didn't, and Marla didn't either. Paul found a series of papers under my name, and the event was written down in full detail.

"No one is sure of anything around here. There are no direct rules to this whole pack thing, much less the imprinting procedure, and its repercussions. I can't simply accept that I'm in love with Jacob when there's all this shit in the way."

She remained quiet, walking silently by my side. I was thinking about my whole life, my feelings for Jacob Black, and quite frankly, just trying to make sense of the whole mess inside my head.

"Edward said something a few days ago... I think I should tell you. He was talking to Jacob—he was visiting—and they were talking of Reneesme... and Jacob admitted something. That when she was still alive, he always felt a small pull towards her, something in his stomach that made him want to protect her... and what's even weirder, is that he said that whenever you, Leah, were around, the pull would become stronger, and spread even to you. With Reneesme around, he felt that he had to protect you, too. What do you think it could mean?"

I didn't say a single thing. I ran, as fast as I could, away from her and prayed to myself that she wouldn't try to follow me as ran away from the horrible, horrible truth she had just told me. Why did things have to get more complicated? Why couldn't life just accept that Jacob was in a relationship with Caroline, that I was simply confused, and just leave it at that? Why did it have to come in and fuck everything up?

In my mind, I knew there was only one place I could go to. I didn't falter, and I didn't slow down as I neared the cottage I hadn't visited in quite a few days. Rachel and Paul weren't there, so I climbed the three back porch steps and banged on the back door.

"Marla opened this goddamned door now!" I yelled, rapping my fist hard against the door. Her small, calm face appeared behind the frosted window and she slowly opened the door and let me in. I guess she had seen me coming. She didn't say anything as I walked in, in a fit of rage, and covered my eyes with my hands. "Tell me everything you know about the imprints."

She didn't say no, and simply walked into the living room and patted the spot on the sofa beside her. She explained, starting from the first imprinted wolf that had been recorded in our history, explaining, in the strictest detail, how he had recalled feeling towards his imprint and various other wolves over the generations who had felt exactly the same. No wolf had ever felt absolutely no need to be near his imprint at all times, no difference after making love... none matched mine. After what seemed like hours of talking in monologue, Marla stopped, sighed, went into the kitchen and brought a glass of water then rejoined me on the sofa.

"Why?" she asked simply before she talk a long sip of water.

"Because I'm doubting my imprint on Jacob."

She made a face when I said that and leaned forward to place her glass on the table. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and shook her head. "Alphas never get imprinted on, Leah."

"What?" I screeched, gnashing my teeth together to keep myself from phasing.

"You heard me. Alphas don't get imprinted on. They always imprint on someone else. How do you expect a lower wolf to imprint on someone higher?"

"How does this explain my feelings, then?"

She remained silent for a few seconds, then smiled impishly. "You love him, silly."

"Shut the hell up, Marla. Don't throw this shit at me, for God's sake."

"Fine, then, I'll lie. Do you want me to feed you lies, Leah? Do you want to remain blinded for the rest of your life? Alphas can't get imprinted on."

"Why didn't anyone tell me, then?" I asked, my voice rough and unpleasant as I gripped the sofa tightly with my fingernails.

"How was I supposed to know that you thought you had imprinted on Jacob?"

"I don't know! Why does it feel like an imprint, then? It makes no sense, Marla. You know how much I dislike imprints, how they have ruined my life—do you think I'd dive, head first, into one? I don't think so. I wouldn't be so reckless as to break my own heart all over again."

"Then why are you doubting it?" she challenged, her eyes wide and waiting for some sort of smart response from my side. I made a small, strangled sound at the back of my throat and she grinned evilly.

I looked away—the wall was far easier to face than Marla. "I slept with Jacob a few weeks ago," I mumbled, almost incoherently as I grabbed at a stray strand from the sofa cover. I tugged at it, watching it unravel slowly before my eyes. "I thought things were going to change... that he was going to feel it inside me... why can't he feel my imprint?"

She didn't say anything—she didn't have to. I knew very well why he didn't feel the imprint and it hurt pretty bad that life had decided to fuck me over again. I quieted down, tugging at the string and pulling hard at it. It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. The phasing, the imprints... And all the shit that went hand in hand with the gruesome, unjust events that happened to me ever since the Cullens had moved here. Some part of me knew that I had reached my breaking point yet again, and I just wanted to cry my eyes out and scream in frustration.

I didn't.

"Think about why there's a pull between Jacob and I then, please," I asked as softly as I could. She nodded—she'd probably already seen this—and followed me to the door, sending me off with a silent farewell.

I walked at a leisurely, yet determined pace to a place I hadn't visited in such a long time that it would be considered beyond embarrassing. I went empty-handed... I was sure he would understand my lack of graciousness—he'd grown used to it over the years.

"Hey, Dad," I said softly as I fell to my knees beside the marble grave stone and ran my fingers over the words carved deeply into the stone. "It's been quite a while, huh?" It amazed me how at ease I felt around my father... and I wished I could be around him forever. Slowly, I reached my hands out and wrapped them around the stone, holding it to my chest and sobbing fresh tears drenched in sadness onto it. I explained what had brought me there, what broken me, and why life was so bloody unfair.

-:-

One of the few things I liked about being a wolf was, strangely, my enhanced musical capabilities. Rachel had discovered that our ancestors were very keen on music and I guess that affinity had been passed on from generation to generation.

I wasn't a big fan of lyrics, but I had a knack of 'composing' the music. I was doing it everywhere lately, and Edward was very much interested in what I was doing. Strangely enough, after months of utter silence in remembrance of his daughter, he'd volunteered to teach me the piano, something which I'd taken up eagerly. Bella, of course, was not in agreement with Edward being so happy lately. She couldn't understand how he could be so happy so shortly after Reneesme's death. Edward took no notice of her—he simply shrugged then continued flipping through his sheet music.

Carlisle was much better and he was actually smiling and making conversation which was not forced at all. Seth was back at being a regular over at the Cullens' and Esme had taken up a cookery course at the Fork's Volunteer Courses for Housewives, which was being very much appreciated by Seth and I, and occasionally Quil.

"No, Leah, not like that," Edward complained for the millionth time as he reached for my reluctant hands and replaced them in their original positions over the keys. I simply could not understand his reasoning.

I sighed. "Look, Edward. I don't really care if I'm hitting an off note from twenty dozen others...I'm not seeking to become a fucking professional."

"But it matters to me. If you're going to be my student, then you're going to be the best two week old pianist the world has ever seen."

I rolled my eyes and Rosalie simply shook her head from the couch across from the piano. Edward was being an ass because I couldn't get certain things, but I figured that I should give the guy a break – he was, after all, spending all his days with eternally menopausal Bella—he was practically a saint. So I let him revise all the names of all the keys without complaining once, and I felt pretty proud of myself.

"Do you know how to play the guitar?" I asked him over dinner. Well, it was actually me eating and Edward staring at me and waiting for me to finish so that we could continue with our lesson.

"No..."

"Well, you better learn, 'cause I have about a week to learn it before I set off in search of a job that would get me a decent pay."

"Leah Clearwater working. That is a sight I must see," he grinned sarcastically.

I flipped him off and went back to eating my amazingly delicious Italian homemade pizza, made by Esme from scratch.

I needed a job. Desperately needed one. Mom had been pestering me to find one for ages and now that there were no immediate vampire threats and Alice was keeping tabs on the Denalis, I'd asked myself, why the hell not? It would get me out of the house more often and maybe lessen my bitchy habits.

I'd managed to get out of the looming abyss I had been in after discovering that Jacob was not, in actual fact, my imprint, but rather some other Indian mumbo jumbo shit, and I'd accepted Caroline. She was actually a very nice girl—very modest, very humble... way too good for Jacob, really. But she was happy, and he was happy... So I guess whatever the misinterpreted imprint was, would automatically place me as being happy too. I was still waiting for Marla to come up with a reasonable explanation as to what the pull actually was, but I was in no hurry. I was actually very proud that I'd managed to help Edward 'overcome' his acceptance of Reneesme's death. I had developed a sort of knack at helping people overcome their issues, which was bringing out the nicer Leah Clearwater, pre-imprint disaster. He was actually much better and had resorted to playing the piano more frequently. The Cullens' house seemed much happier whenever Edward played.

"I'm so excited," Edward stated brightly as he walked with me to the Forks Supermarket which had employed me a few days before. He had insisted on seeing me work, so he'd decided to tag along. I'm sure the other cashiers wouldn't complain of Edward's presence and I was quite interested to see what was going to happen once they set eyes on him.

Edward seemed like a free spirit when he wasn't tied to Bella. He smiled brighter and seemed much more full of life, happier. I liked to think that maybe, just maybe, a little bit of that happiness was because of me, and I'd helped to acquire it. He walked casually by my side as we made our way into the supermarket after having driven from La Push in his Volvo with a cheeky grin on his face. I was pretty sure he was doing his very best not to listen in on my thoughts, because from past experience, I wasn't such a nice person when that happened, but I wouldn't blame him if he was—I had very loud thoughts.

Aldith, the shop supervisor who was a few years older than me, was about to scold me when I stopped into the shop a few minutes late, but she froze when she saw Edward by her side. As if by a silent call, all the other employees stationed at the check-out desks turned their heads to face Edward, gawking at him. I was sure he was having a blast listening to their thoughts.

"Good morning, Leah," Aldith said pleasantly, well, as pleasantly as she could with that high-pitched, irritating voice of hers. She did not tear her gaze away from Edward as she was talking to me. "You're going to run the new stock placements today," she continued as she tucked a strand of hair neatly behind her ear and smiled even brighter.

"Okay," I said, making my way to the locker room and dumping my stuff there. I pinned my badge to my uniform, rolled up my sleeves and got ready for a day of staring at the various items that were far from interesting. Edward followed, and Aldith did not question why he was following me around like a lost puppy. It was awkward at times, when I turned around and he was there, handing me whatever I needed, but as the day progressed, I got used to it.

We spent quite a large amount of time in silence, but it wasn't awkward at all. I didn't feel the need to talk, and he didn't either, so it was easier to remain in comfortable silence, rather than giving a go at uncomfortable conversation.

"Do you think of her a lot?" he asked suddenly, sitting down on the floor beside the box of preserves I was currently sorting.

"Reneesme?" I asked, slowly placing the can of tuna on its shelf, amongst the other cans. He nodded. "Not a lot, but when I do... it hurts a lot. Especially when I'm with Claire. I think of her the most when I'm with Claire. And when I'm alone—that's the worst. Because when I'm with Claire, I can hug her and hold her tight and push the thoughts of Reneesme away, trying to imagine how much happier she is now, wherever she is. But when I'm alone, there's no one there for me to hug and hold..."

He was silent for a few seconds, staring at the box I was sifting through before he sighed, and relaxed his knees. "I think about her all the time. I know it's wrong, because the first step to accepting someone's death is to stop thinking about the deceased so frequently. But... I just can't. Everywhere I look, she is there, waiting for me to pick her up, to kiss her and to love her, but when I reach out to touch her, she disappears..."

His head fell into his hands and he ran his shaky hands through his hair, staring down at the tiled, murky floor beneath his feet. I pitied him in this sad state, so miserable and desperate that he would come to me, the demented werewolf, for help and consolation.

"Edward...?" I said, lowering the tuna can and inching towards him on my knees. "Ed?"

"Sorry," he muttered, raising his face to look me dead in the eye. "Got a bit side-tracked," he said with a small chuckle and covered his hand with his eyes. "I just miss her so much."

The last few words were barely a whisper, and to any other human, they would have not been heard. But I heard them perfectly, and I was unsure of what I had to do. Hug him? Hold his hand? I kneeled there, staring at him as he sat in silence.

"Bella doesn't help at all..." he mumbled incoherently again, "she just sits in Reneesme's room all the fucking day and stares at things that aren't there. How I am supposed to get over it? How am I supposed to get over it?" he half- yelled, hitting the freezer he was leaning against with as little force as he could muster. He looked at me, then, with wide, butterscotch eyes that seemed to cry out sadness, anger and frustration.

I turned back, silently, to placing the tuna cans on the shelf, hearing him breathe behind me and finding a small amount of comfort in that sound. He remained silent too, watching me, I guessed. He was right—Bella wasn't much help. Rosalie'd told me that Bella was spending days on end in Reneesme's room, smelling her clothes, her pillows... everything.

"Sorry," he said after a few minutes of silence, and I slowly turned to face him with small smile.

"It's okay. I've gotten used to helping you Cullens get over your issues," I said, as gently as I could.

He smiled slowly. "I'll be quiet from now on."

-:-

"Edward seems better," Rosalie stated as she walked with me back home. Edward had kept his promise and he'd stayed quiet for the rest of my shift, helping to answer my mental queries with simple gestures. We'd returned back to the Cullens', and Rosalie had offered to walk me home.

"Yeah, he does. We talked a bit whilst I was working... explained to me why he can't get over it," I explained, ranking my bag higher up on my shoulder.

"Good... at least one of them needs to start moving on."

"Edward told me Bella's a total mess... how are you?"

She shrugged, grabbing at a bunch of grass flying in the breeze and plucking them out of the ground, twirling it between her fingers. "As good as I'll ever be, I guess. Reneesme was... the child I always wanted, you know? And I lost her... and her loss hurt more than the infertile burden I have to bear every day of my life."

"I'm sorry..."

She snorted. "You seem to have found a replacement, though."

I looked at her weird and she shrugged with an impish grin. "Seth mentioned Claire."

"Oh! She's far from a replacement. I knew Claire long before I knew Reneesme and I don't spend as much time with her as you think but... she helps numb the pain, I guess. And she likes having me around. She's such a sweet little girl... how are you, Rose?" I asked her then, eyeing her sadly.

Her face was drawn, her eyes were frantic, never focused, and she always seemed worried, afraid, alone... Emmett was worried about Rosalie too, because quite frankly, Rosalie was one of the strongest people I knew. It saddened me to think that she could simply be reduced to this.

"I miss her terribly. But I haven't stepped foot in her room in a month," she stated proudly, straightening her back and broadening her shoulders. "I'm trying to move on, you know? Get my closure or something. I don't know. All I know is that my attempt at moving on is going horribly wrong. I don't know what to do, when to do it... Gah!" she yelled in frustration, grabbing at the sides of her hand and pushing on them fiercely. "I want her back, Leah. She was mine, she was with me and He took her away!" If vampires could cry, Rosalie would've been bawling. Her sad eyes were wide and golden, twinkling in the light of the late afternoon, devoid of the tears that she wanted to cry. I pitied her, at that moment.

With a sigh, I latched onto her hand and pulled her along with me. As we walked, I sniffed the air, searching for the two familiar scents woven into the air around me. At last, I found them on First Beach—their backs to us and little Claire building a sandcastle beside Quil. He smelt us and turned to face us. Rosalie's face was confused as she stared at Claire and I let go of her icy hand and walked over to Quil's side. He smiled up at me, and he didn't question Rosalie's presence as she sat down beside Claire and began to introduce herself. I simply rested my head on Quil's shoulder and watched the ebb and flow of the tide as Rosalie's and Claire's voices flew up into the air around us.

I guess we spent quite a long time like that. I think I even dozed off at some point, but I wasn't sure. Rosalie had made Claire's sandcastle even more beautiful and she was elated with it, prancing about and admiring it in wonder.

"Look Leah, look Quil!" she shouted, grabbing onto his shoulder and shaking violently. He smiled at her and looked over at the castle.

"That's amazing, Claire-bear," I exclaimed with a bright smile but as my gaze fell onto Rosalie, who was looking off into the distance behind us, looking curiously at something there. I turned and saw an old woman slowly lowering herself onto the sand, barefoot, with an earnest look on her face. I waved at her but she didn't wave back, or smile in acknowledgement. She simply scurried towards me.

"I finally figured out the pull between you and Jacob."

And at that exact moment in time, I didn't care at all that Quil and Rosalie and Claire were overhearing this conversation: I just wanted the truth.

"Tell me," I urged fervently.

Marla nodded and swallowed solemnly, "Jacob isn't your imprint," as she paused, I held my breath, waiting anxiously for her answer. "He's your mate."