Okay, so you know, this is happening right after the whole fight thing, and that dinner and stuff from Quil's POV was after, but I'm going back and this is Claire's POV. Just in case it was confusing...but if it wasn't that's good and YEAH, so enjoy!!

And you reviewers are more than awesome. Keep reviewing, and I'll send you some virtual chocolate! Yum.

I stalked up to my room, slammed the door, fuming. I was totally on Quil's side in this whole stupid, pointless argument--no, I was on my own side. It was my decision! My life! Of course, I take Quil's side once we've established that. What right did my mother have to try to dictate who I walk with--or rather, who picks me up after I fall, or walk into a tree in this case, even if that person just happened to be Quil, who she obviously has a problem with. Nothing like this has ever happened before, and I don't understand it.

Okay, so she's my mom. But if I told her I was going out with Jack, (shudder), she would let me, and happily. I think. I'm not going out with Quil, an irritating voice in my mind said. Shut up. That's not the point.

Is it because of Quil's little...or big...furry...well, problem? But it's because of that that I'm alive at all. That vampire that time...if Quil didn't exist, wasn't a werewolf, he wouldn't have been there to save me.

If Quil didn't exist neither would the vampire, the voice in my mind said.

Shut up! Okay, so if Quil hadn't imprinted with me then he wouldn't have been there to save me.

But the thought of Quil not existing made my chest hurt, my heart pound, I was almost short of breath. He was--well, he just was. He was practically everything. I've known him since forever--or pretty much since forever.

I flopped down on my bed, thought of what he'd had to do, how long he'd had to wait. What must it have been like for him to, at sixteen and just found out he was a werewolf, to have, well, imprinted on a two-year-old? I took a step away, looked at this with a new pair of eyes, a fresh perspective. I was ashamed to feel a little--but no. It wasn't his fault--

Then a horrible thought occurred to me. This wasn't his choice. He must have hated it, hated me. What if he was just...somehow bound to love me, like he was bound to La Push and killing vampires? What if he didn't actually love me, but the way he treated me, the way he looked at me, according to my mother, was just the product of a forced...job?

I buried my face in the pillow, and I was crying, soaking it, against all reason. The idea just hurt so much, it was indescribable. I almost wanted to go to him, ask him. What would I ask him? If he loved me? It was ridiculous.

But if he actually did? What would I do about that? I tried to stick to the first thought, as painful as it was. The other was just too confusing.

I had to see him.

I walked slowly to the kitchen, where I heard noises telling me my mom was making dinner, or some form of it. I walked in, stood straight, said, "I'm leaving. I'll be back in an hour." Make it precise, my words coated in anger.

"No you are not," she said, still facing the sink. Turned around slowly, her face was emotionless steel.

I didn't say anything.

"Where do you think you're going?" She said, contradicting her earlier statement. I resited the urge to point that out to her.

I almost didn't want to say it, afraid she'd get even angrier at where I wanted to go, who I had to see.

"I have to see Quil." She looked hard at me, straight in my eyes.

"You are not going to see him."

I lost it. "What is your problem with Quil?" I almost yelled. "I've known him since forever. He's not doing anything to me!" I meant it both ways, all ways. She frowned.

"That you want?" Cryptic, sarcastic. "No."

"Mom!"

"Claire. As your mother I am--"

"What if I told you I was going to see Annie?"

"Then I would offer to drive you," she said, her voice perfectly pleasant. I scowled.

"Don't talk back to me."

"I never even said any--"

"Claire."

I glowered. "Quil is--God! What's gotten into you!" I gave up, stormed back to my room. I was furious. What had Quil ever done to her, or me? Brought me back after I hit my head, saved my life!

It was past unfair, and I had no idea why my mom was being so unreasonable. And as, now, it was impossible to talk to her like a civilized human being, I instead thought of what I would say to Quil, when I saw him again, if ever.

If ever? Why did I think that? It just made my throat swell up with promise of more tears.

And what would I say, next time I saw him--I thought that last part fiercely, forbidding my mind to even think otherwise. What could I say? I decided I'd just...say. Or not say. Whatever.

That was never really a problem with Quil. But then I thought of the earlier awkwardness, his hot hand surrounding mine, and my mom being so, well, how she was being, and rethought. But I refused to believe such a simple thing as me growing up would change us so drastically.

--

"Claire! Come to dinner!"

"I'm not hungry." I was, I really was. But there was no way I was facing them, my mom and her anger, Matt and my dad and their obliviousness.

"Are you sure?" Her voice was the you-make-that-choice-and...don't even bother to finish the sentence.

"Yes." She left. I paced. I was hungry, really hungry. I didn't know why I didn't go eat dinner, deal with it. I felt like Swiss Cheese, empty stomach, empty heart? Empty?

I made a rash decision, then. What could it hurt? Just wait until everyone was asleep...I just hoped Quil was awake. Or worse, what if he wasn't at home? I pushed that thought out of my mind--I'd been doing a lot of that lately.

--

I didn't even stop to think of the consequences, what would happen if my mom caught me, or my dad. Well, he'd probably let me. Unlike her.

Out the window, thankful it was on the first story. There was enough room, it was big, even with my tall frame. Or tall, relatively. Compared to Quil I was a midget. Compared to Quil everyone was a midget. Well, except the rest of the pack.

Out the window, across the lawn. Down the road...run, running, fast, slow, painfully slow. I felt eyes on me, red eyes, brown eyes, black eyes, I don't know what color eyes. I ran, panting, a stitch in my side--I wasn't the best runner at the best of times, and these wouldn't qualify as those.

Up to the house, almost passing out from running. I almost turned around and ran back home, afraid of what would happen, what would I say, what if I woke him up? I knocked on the door; it was locked. Waited, then pounded at no answer. Steps; quiet, then loud. I held my breath.

Quil appeared, opened the door, looking tired, but still in his clothes; messy hair, tired eyes, but I don't think I woke him up. He smiled tiredly at me. I swayed. He put his arm out, but it trembled a little, he dropped it. I stepped in, hesitantly.

"Claire?" He frowned, worry in his eyes. "What are you doing here?" He looked behind me, as if for someone I came with.

"I'm alone," I said, and I couldn't say if he looked relieved or scared. Maybe both.

He held out his hand, and I took it, not thinking. Its warmness calmed me, its solidness comforted.

"What happened?" He looked worried, almost too much so.

I looked down. We walked to the kitchen, where he put a pot of water on. "Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee. Thanks." He sat me down, pushing on my shoulders. I sat. He sat across from me.

"What happened?" His eyes, his face, were intense.

"I...had to...just..." I was hesitant to ask him, tell him my worries. He would probably laugh. How funny.

He raised his eyebrows, pushed back his chair, stood up, spooned instant coffee in two mugs. "I'm being lazy and using instant," he said, smiling slightly. I grinned, but it disappeared soon enough.

"Claire..." His voice was sad, quiet. "You shouldn't be here."

"What? You too?" I couldn't believe he was saying that too. He of all people should have been standing up for me, here. Unless what I thought was true...I looked down. Stood up. "I'll leave, then," I said, starting to turn and walk towards the door. Quil caught my arm, disconcertingly because he'd been across the room, however small. I stopped.

"Wait, no--"

"You said I should leave."

"I said you shouldn't be here. I never said I didn't want you here." He grinned, smiled at me almost meltingly.

I didn't know what to say, other than to feel like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, like taking off my backpack after a long day at school, long walk home. But..."But you do?" I had to ask.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? And anyway, what brings you here at all?" He looked significantly happier.

I decided to answer only the first question. Even though it was sort of answering the second. "I was wondering...this imprinting thing...is it...like..." I didn't know what words to use. He looked wary, but just kept his dark eyes staring at mine.

"Forced?" My voice was small.

He looked startled. "What do you mean," Eyes narrowed.

"Job? Like...you have...to..." My voice got quieter at every word, but I'm sure it was all clear to him. He dropped his eyes and swept me up in a hug, a huge bear hug, his warm arms squeezing me tight.

"Oh, Claire. Oh, God. Don't say that."

I nodded onto his shoulder, almost crying again. I'd been just like a leaky faucet this afternoon, I thought. He put me down, but his hands hovered for a minute near my arms. He put his hands on my shoulders, looked deep in my eyes.

"Claire. Never say that."

I nodded again. "I got that," I said.

He sort of laughed, dropping his arms. Shook his head. "This is what you came over here for?" His face held something, I couldn't say what it was.

"Um," I said. How intelligent.

"Claire. I love you and it's not forced. Not a job." Quil ran his hand through his hair, and it flopped over his eyes.

"Then what is it?"

"It's me loving you." It felt like I was filled up, when he said that. I didn't even feel hungry anymore.

"But...like..."

"The imprinting just shows us who we were supposed to be with. If not for it...I probably would have found you again about now," he said. "Just not been here all these years." He frowned.

"Oh. But I was...two." I made a face.

He laughed, his face suddenly lighting up again. "It's not like that. It wasn't. Are you listening to your mother?"

I shook my head no. "Of course not. She thinks you're some devil or something."

He smiled. "As long as you don't think that, I really don't care. As harsh as that might sound..."

"Well..." I dragged it out. "Maybe just an apprentice or something." He laughed, handing me the forgotten coffee. I stirred it, inhaling to wonderful coffee smell. Quil watched me.

"What?" I was suddenly self-conscious. He shook his head, smiling. Took a big sip from his mug. I stood up. He stood too. "Where do you think you're going?" He demanded.

"Home." I said.

"You must be crazy if you think I'm letting you walk home alone." He sounded like he thought I was.

I shook my head. "Of course not. But I walked here alone."

He frowned. "Why didn't you call? I would've come."

"I didn't want to wake you."

He raised his eyebrows, grinning.

"What?"

"Well, if you hadn't by calling, you would have by banging on the door that loud."

I gasped, covered my mouth with my hands. "Oh no! I didn't, did I?"

"No. But if you had I wouldn't have minded."

"Oh."

"Okay then. You want to go now?"

"I probably should. My mom might wake up."

He looked startled. "You snuck out?" He was sarcastically appalled.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes. She wouldn't let me see you." He just stared at me, and incomprehensible look on his face, in his eyes.

"Better get you back, then," he said. I was surprised he wasn't madder.

We walked almost slowly, leisurely, back to my house. His hand found mine about halfway home. I left it there; it didn't hurt, it even felt good: safe, secure.

At the front lawn, Quil stopped. He put his hands on my face, burning.

"We're good?" He asked.

"Of course," I said. He smiled, hesitated, then leaned in and kissed my forehead, his hot lips lingering on my skin. He breathed in deeply, closed his eyes. He finally pushed me towards my window. "Go."

I looked at him fleetingly, then climbed in. He was gone when I turned around.

I turned away from the window and shut it, against the cold night air. Once Quil was away I felt the breeze and cold air more strongly.

I almost screamed, checked only because of my parents in the next room. Matt was sitting on my bed, staring at me, grinning, a book in his hands.

"Sneaking out, are we now?" He asked. "See your boyfriend?"

I blushed. "Shut up."

He raised his eyebrows, smiled smugly.

"What do you want?" I asked him.

"Well, I was going to come ask you for your headphones--" He made headphone gestures over his ears-- "but you weren't here. So I settled in with a good book to wait."

"Did you tell mom?" I asked.

"Nope."

"Thanks." I was grateful to him, as nasty as he was to me lately.

But he said, "Not yet."

"Matt!"

"Okay, okay. Jeez. Can I have them?"

"What?"

"The headphones." He rolled his eyes.

"Right." I dug around in a drawer, on my desk, and found the headphones and gave them to him. "Give them back."

"Yep." He walked out. I sighed in relief. My mom wasn't going to find out, as long as Matt kept his promise. I changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt and crawled into bed, exhausted.

Okay, I know this is kind of random, but I warn you now. If you're expecting some sex scene at the end, you're not getting it. I'm not saying they don't do it, I just don't write it. I don't like to and I can't. Sorry. I think of their relationship more of love than lust. I always thinks it ruins it, in other stories I've read. Although they were wonderful, it takes some of the, I don't know. They love each other so much, there are other things in life.

Well anyway, hope you liked it. Please review!!