Hi all, thank you so much for those of you that have followed and reviewed so far, it means alot :) I love knowing your thoughts on this.

If you notice any errors grammar or spelling please let me know, when you've read something many times you start to correct in your head without doing it on the actual copy :/ as seems to happen to me alot. Im also dyslexic, so I might just not notice.

Thanks! Enjoy :)

Two

My night wasn't the restful sleep I needed; the boy had needed tending too more often than I had expected. I had been up every couple of hours. Thankfully, the disjointed sleep I had gained on the sofa was enough to keep me going.

Sam's family had been kind but distant. I was grateful for this. It made me more at ease that they hadn't forced their company on me. They had, instead, offered me food before they had turned in for the night. I had heard their whispers about me upstairs, but I tried not to dwell on it. Gossip and whispers tended to follow me around a lot. I was well used to ignoring talk. Instead, I had focused on the boy and his recovery. The rate at which they healed was impressive, almost on par with my own.

It was difficult to break my skin and bones but when it did happen, as it had once during a family baseball game, it had healed quickly. Still from a medical point of view, it was fascinating to watch as the muscle and skin regrew right before my eyes. The boy's fever had calmed considerably, and his skin felt as warm as mine: a low-grade fever was better than what it had been. The antibiotics had already begun to make his blood smell better. I could smell the infection retreating and I was pleased with his progress when I had settled on the couch for the final time around 3am.

The sun crept in through slits in the curtains rousing me from sleep. I heard the voices then, keeping my eyes firmly closed and feigning sleep for a few moments longer. I wanted to hear the results of their discussions the previous evening. It wasn't the voices I had been expecting though.

"Man, she's hot."

I tried not to cringe visibly. This was unfortunately a comment I had heard a lot.

"Levi!" a woman scolded, "she saved your life, have a bit of respect."

That had me puzzled, I stretched and 'woke' up. They both reacted to my movement, the woman averted her gaze while the young man held firm. Standing on the opposite side of the room was a tall young man, the young man I had worked on yesterday to keep him from dying of blood poisoning. I couldn't help but stare back, completely taken aback that he was already up and about. I noticed then that he resembled his father greatly, black hair cropped short and dark eyes appraising me in a way I wasn't keen on. Only difference was that it was suspicion that clouded the older man's eyes, the younger man made me uncomfortable for a different reason. Thankfully, I'd slept in my clothes. I was grateful for that much this morning.

He was barely dressed too which added to the discomfort, wearing only a pair of cut off shorts. He looked younger than me, or at the least, younger than the age I appeared to be which was roughly a human in their mid-twenties. This boy didn't look like a boy at all right now, he looked to be in his early 20's. He'd looked so young last night; it was hard to see it now. I glanced down at his leg and frowned. All that remained of his injury and following surgery was a faint pinkness coloring the skin. I shook my head and accepted it was for what it was, a mystery. I was a mystery too, I reasoned. Sometimes it was best to leave life's mysteries well alone.

"Good morning," the woman spoke to me, and for the first time I saw her clearly. Scars ran down the middle-aged woman's face, aged and faded but still prominent. I composed myself quickly, I had seen worse scarring in the past. It was something you just had to look past. I smiled back warmly.

"Good morning, thank you for letting me stay."

"Don't be silly," she replied, waving off my thanks, "It's not like you got any sleep."

I chose not to comment on that, it appeared I wasn't the only one kept awake because of this young man.

"I got enough," I told her honestly.

My attention drifted towards her son.

"You look surprisingly well," I commented, he winked at me, and my polite expression dropped. I rolled my eyes. His mother lightly swatted at him, muttering about bad manners as she forced him to leave me in peace.

"Thank you," she told me on her return a few moments later, "I am very grateful, we all are. Doctors aren't an option for my boy anymore."

I got up and went to her. The worry in her eyes made me see my own mother and I felt overcome with a need to take that worry away.

"Yes, they are," I replied, trying to convey my meaning.

"I will leave you with my details," I explained, "If you need me, you need only ask."

She smiled and embraced me in such a sudden movement. I was taken aback for a moment before moving to gently return the hug, being gentle and careful as I always was around humans.

"I will hold you to that," she whispered just before she released me.

I was true to my word and before I left, I made sure to leave them with contact details for me should they need help in the future. Though I began to feel unsure about that decision on the drive home. This life I'd made for myself in Olympia was supposed to give me a chance to be 'human', to learn to live in a world besides the one my family lived in and now I was just getting tangled up with another supernatural species instead.

I was still overthinking things when I arrived home, but once I was secure in the little studio apartment everything began to feel 'normal' again. This was the life I had built for myself, this little box of an apartment that had everything I needed in it. I showered, changed into pajamas, informed my boss I was home and arranging to return to work the following day. When I finally had done everything I could think of, I forced myself to get some better-quality sleep.

I slept most of the day and binged watched Netflix for most of the night to decompress and think through all that had happened over the last few hours. I was still trying to puzzle it all out when my phone screen lit up. I smiled at the caller ID and answered the video chat.

"Hey, sweetie!" my mom's voice sang through the phone.

Her unchanged face was a comfort I hadn't realized I had needed.

"Hey," I replied smiling brightly back at her.

"How did it go?"

The inevitable questions. Figures.

"Yeah, all good," I told her, remembering something then, "erm I was told to say, Sam says hi."

My mom's face was almost unreadable for a moment before she regained composure.

"That's kind of him. We didn't exactly leave things the way I would have wanted."

"There weren't many other options, Bella," My dad spoke then. Seeing her pain as I had.

He took over the call for a moment, "what was wrong anyway?"

"Oh, yes, that," I felt myself frowning as I thought it over all over again, "what are they?"

My dad laughed then. His humor a little confusing.

"They aren't human," I told him certainly, "Well, the young man I treated certainly wasn't."

He smiled knowingly, "Werewolves."

I felt my expression change in shock for a moment.

"They aren't 'werewolves'," I heard my mom comment just before she reappeared in the video's limited frame, "They are technically 'shapeshifters' and you know it."

Interesting.

"So that's why?" I questioned, "they shapeshift into wolves? That's why they couldn't see a doctor? That young man really would have benefited from a proper surgical team."

"You sound like Carlisle," he told me, his amusement evident.

"I can see you meant that as a bad thing," I replied, his tone making me believe that was how he had meant it, "but I'm actually really proud that I'm like grandpa. I mean he's incredible."

"It wasn't meant as a derogatory comment, Ren," the smirk returned as he spoke, "but you have just made Carlisle's day with that."

I smiled shyly at being overheard praising him. He was someone I aspired to be but that didn't mean I was going to openly admit it to my whole family.

"So, what was wrong?" my dad brought me back to the original question and mom added,

"Who was hurt?"

I thought for a moment, "It was Sam's son, Levi. He had cut his leg, got some debris in the wound and it was quite a nasty infection, spreading faster than I would have thought possible. Unfortunately, it would seem healing fast isn't always a benefit."

My mom pulled a face at the details, talking about pus and guts was not a topic she enjoyed. To her credit though, she always listened to my stories of how my day had been without complaint. She rearranged her expression before speaking again.

"I'm glad you could help them, it's good to keep our friends."

"Stop feeling bad, Bella," my dad told her quickly, "We did what we had to do."

"What did you have to do?" I found myself asking. Not really understanding why my mom was so sore over this.

"We just stayed away that's all," he replied, not telling me the whole story. I knew that much.

I wanted to bring it up, make a comment to tell them I knew there was more they weren't saying but I held my tongue. Sometimes it wasn't worth the fight, at least not tonight. The conversation flowed into safer topics and all too soon they were excusing themselves from the call to prepare for school. It felt surreal sometimes how backwards our lives were compared to others. The parents getting themselves ready for high school whilst the daughter got herself ready for work.

Nothing in our lives was how it should be. The thought was on my mind as I returned to bed and slept till darkness had begun to fall again. I dressed for work and made my way there as normal. My life returned to its usual pace of work, sleep, hunt, work, sleep, eat. It was repetitive but exactly how I liked it. I felt more at peace with the world in my life here. Trying to keep up with the world my parents inhabited hadn't worked out for me. I didn't want to be special. I just wanted to be me. In the weeks that passed, I lost myself to my job once again.

"Alright, Alison, not long now," I encouraged.

The heavily pregnant woman lay in the midst of another contraction, squeezing my hand so hard it should have hurt.

"Well done," I continued, "You're doing so well."

She groaned as the pain past, collapsing back in exhaustion.

"I can't do this," she cried, tears streaming down her face.

I examined the machines monitoring her baby's vitals, ensuring her baby was still doing well. Fetal heartbeat was wonderfully normal. Everything exactly as it should be.

"Yes, you can, my love," I kept up the stream of encouraging words, "you are doing a wonderful job."

Hours passed by and my patient progressed as expected. She was nearing the second stage when my colleague come to relieve me from duty. My shift was over. I had spent the entire time with Alison this shift, coaching her, supporting her through the hardest yet likely the most rewarding day of her life.

Labour was never a predictable experience though; I had expected to see her through to the end, but it was not to be. I couldn't stay past my shift; my grandfather had warned me about that. It was best to act as though you were human in every possible way and humans grew tired, they needed rest and so it was best to act as though I needed the break too. In truth, I wanted to see her through. I wanted to know if her child would resemble her or her partner who was stood beside her. I was curious to know if the scans were accurate and that she would indeed have a daughter. I wondered at what the infant would weigh, based on her fundal height and fetal measurements from her final scan I could place a rough estimate at 8lb 5oz.

I would not find that out tonight. I gave my colleague the handover for the day shift and departed, feeling a little deprived from not seeing the birth through to the end. It was on my mind as I began the short walk back to my apartment. I was so preoccupied that I didn't notice him at first.

"I thought you said you were a doctor."

The familiar but unexpected voice made me jump at the shock. So absorbed in my own failings that I hadn't realized he was there. Waiting outside the hospital main entrance, was Sam.

"Can I help you?" I asked, completely shocked. My expression must have been amusing.

"I called the number you left us with and asked for Dr Masen," he explained, and I felt my face heating up in embarrassment.

"Turns out the only Masen in this hospital is a midwife," he told me.

Of course, I had realized what he was going to say and was ready.

"Would you have let me help if you had thought me unqualified to do so?"

He thought it over for a moment, "Probably not."

"There's your answer then."

I began walking away from him, turning down the street towards my apartment. I was aware of him following me and sighed.

"Is there something you wanted? Or did you simply come here to insult my credentials?"

He laughed then, though it lacked warmth.

"No," his voice lowered, and he looked around before speaking again, making sure no one would overhear him, "we need your help. Or at least, there's something you need to see."

My interest piqued I turned back to face him. Studying his face, I found nothing to help me decipher his curious words. Curiosity killed the cat… the phrase passed through my mind again. I pushed down all those concerns and let my desire for knowledge drive me straight back to those curious people, those curious shapeshifting wolves, my mind corrected.

"Ok."

One word of agreement was all that it took to find me, hours later following a grown man into the dense woodland that surrounded their home. Deeper and deeper into the trees I followed. I began to have regrets as the darkness encroached on us. The darkness didn't seem to bother Sam, and in truth it had never bothered me before. I had never willingly walked into a forest with a strange man in the dark before though, my mind reasoned.

Sam produced a flashlight from his coat pocket as we walked.

"How much further?" I asked as impatience got the better of me. I hated walking slow.

We had been walking at a slow pace for hours, I was growing irritable when suddenly I smelt it. Decay. Not the scent of decomposing leaf litter and the usual rotting matter of the forest floor but of decaying flesh. There was a corpse up ahead in the trees and trepidation made me hesitate. Sam turned to me then, as if he had heard my feet still.

"It's ok," he assured, "You aren't in danger."

His voice was almost soothing, and I forced the fear deep down inside and proceeded. If a body was what he had brought me here to see, then I would face it. The fear remained though that a body this deep in the woods was sure to have been caused by foul play. I shuddered as the thought passed through my mind.

"Why did you want me to see this?" I questioned, as we walked in the direction of the offending scent.

"I just needed to be sure before we called the authorities on this one," he replied.

"Sure of what?"

He never answered and I knew why. I understood everything, every reason for him calling me here when I saw her. I felt my stomach turn in horrified understanding. Foul play had definitely been involved here but not in the way that I had been thinking. I fought the urge to empty my stomach and instead tried to bury the fear, locking it away deep inside. Forcing myself to be the professional that I was here to be.

I thought back to the memories of working with my grandpa in the morgue. My mother had said it was inappropriate, but I was a grown woman, and it was my decision, besides Carlisle had always been clear, "If you cannot face the sight of death, you cannot be a doctor. You can do everything in your power to stop it, but people will always die, you cannot fear death." I had understood his reasoning. It was important to not shy away from death, it was as much a part of humanity as birth.

I'd done post-mortems before and I could at the very least face this body, this death with the same grim determination. In truth, there was little need for any kind of post-mortem, I knew the reason this woman had died. Her body was clothed in what appeared to be an old greying nightdress. What skin could be seen was as pale as my families, only she hadn't been granted immortality, instead it appeared an immortal had stolen her life. A mark at the base of her throat told me she had been drank from.

It wasn't this fact that caused alarm though, it was the condition of her body that sparked a memory. She was painfully thin, the clothes she wore hung lose. Her cheeks were sunken, short black hair lank and lifeless, and every bone was painfully visible. It appeared as if her body had been deprived of all it needed to keep her healthy. In one assessment, I understood everything. She resembled how my mother had looked in my first memory of her.

I fought the urge to vomit again and tried to push the alarming thoughts from my mind. This woman wasn't my mother, but they undoubtably had something unique in common; they were both mothers of hybrid children. I knew this because ultimately it appeared her death had not been caused by malnutrition, or even exsanguination. No, the clear and obvious cause of death here was the gaping tear across her abdomen. The evidence of the child tearing its way free. Something I understood well enough due to the exposed layers of muscle, fatty tissue and the shredded remains the woman's uterus. It looked like a c-section conducted with a shaking hand and a chain saw.

As the thought crossed my mind again, the battle was lost. All the color drained from my face as I moved away from the body and promptly emptied the contents of my stomach into a nearby bush.

"I'm sorry," he spoke up then, "It wasn't fair of me to involve you in this. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"No," I replied quickly, "You were right to call me."

I was certain about that; I understood this woman's horrific end and that was why it bothered me so.

"I'm not squeamish," I looked up to meet his gaze, "I just know what killed her."

Before I could elaborate, a low growl rippled through the still air. Fear trickled down my spine and I felt the hairs on my forearms raise at the sound. I locked eyes with Sam then and he moved to place himself between the sound and me. As kind as the gesture was, I didn't need protecting. In fact, as a human Sam was in greater danger than I from whatever creature that had made that sound. Before I could move, he spoke.

"Blame me, Jacob," he spoke, calmly and surely, "I brought her here."

A snarl was the beasts reply.

It stepped out from between the trees and the fear returned, I wasn't fragile by any means and yet something about that sound, that creature had my blood freezing in fear. The rational side of my mind told me I was being ridiculous, me and my family literally ate predators for breakfast and yet here I was cowering behind this strange human. I took a deep steading breath and moved out from behind Sam. There was nothing to be afraid of. It was just an animal, and I could take any animal without so much as a scratch.

The eyes that met my stare weren't animal in the slightest. The rational side of my brain fought what it saw just as the beast cleared the trees. An enormous wolf, russet brown in color strode up to me and met my gaze without the slightest hesitation. It held my stare for a long moment before letting out a sound almost like a pained noise and disappearing back into the trees.

"What just happened?"

Sam was staring after the creature puzzled also. A howl rippled through the trees, and I shuddered.

"Is he ok?" I asked almost without thinking through my words. My brain had begun to put the pieces together without any conscious effort on my part. The way Sam had spoken to the creature, addressed it by name meant it wasn't an animal, it was a person in another form. The eyes had been eerily human too and that had sealed the notion in my brain.

Sam took a long moment to reply.

"Yes," he turned to me and stared at me strangely again, before seeming to snap himself out of it.

"You said you knew what killed her?"

The stomach-churning feeling returned. I nodded. He waited for me to elaborate as I thought over the right words. He didn't press it, something in my expression must have prevented him from doing so. The sentence changed in my mind many times before I finally decided it was best to be honest from the get-go.

"Something like me is what killed her."

His expression was almost unreadable as he digested that.

"Like you?" he questioned, "and what are you exactly?"

I met his gaze then forcing him to meet the eyes he knew to be my mothers.

"I think you know," I replied, "Or at least, I think you think you know."

"You are her daughter," he stated, his rational mind arguing despite his observations, "but you're too old, you can't be."

"I'm not just her daughter," I told him, trying to find the right words, the right way to phrase everything, like before simple seemed best, "I am his too."

His eyes widened in understanding, he had known both my parents once upon a time and that knowledge, the knowledge that they had created a child was hard to digest. He looked back at the body then, as if seeing it for the first time with fresh eyes. He looked as sick as I felt when confronted with it.

"We need to burn the body," my rational mind took over.

His eyes darted back to mine then, he looked offended at the idea. This woman was a victim, I knew that, but it didn't change anything. No one could be allowed to see this. It was imperative to keeping the secret that the evidence be destroyed.

"I'm sorry, but we have too," I told him, gentler this time. Trying not to make this harder for him than it had to be.

"I'll call my family," I assured him, "We will find who did this to her, but no one can see this."

"You don't get to decide that."

A new voice spoke up, and from out of the shadows he appeared. He was well over 6 foot tall, broad, with eyes on the border of black and brown, his hair was disheveled and matched his eyes. He was well-built with defined muscle that was on show due to his choice of clothing. He was, dare I even think it, but distractingly attractive. I stared for a moment, in cut off shorts and nothing else it was difficult not to stare. My eyes took in every inch of him, and I knew I was probably making him uncomfortable, but I couldn't take my eyes off him.

I heard my breathing change in response to a new feeling that was affecting me in a strange way. I had never found anyone attractive before, I could appreciate a person's beauty but never like this. I mentally slapped myself out of it and made a conscious effort to regain control over myself. God knows how long I had been staring at him when I finally forced myself to speak.

Reminding myself why I was even here long enough to say, "No one can find that body."

I forced the words out, my voice sounded strange even to me. Strangled and affected by this odd new feeling.

"And no one will," he replied swiftly, holding my gaze in an intense way.

I needed to look away, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. His eyes were beautiful and incredible, and I was losing myself to him by the minute. Shaking myself free I forced my gaze back to Sam. He was staring at me with amusement, and I gritted my teeth together as my face heated up, how embarrassing.

"We'll bury her," his voice was gentler this time.

"What if something uncovers her?" I had to ask. Giving him my attention again. Practical as ever, the best course was to completely destroy the evidence.

His eyes met mine again and I had to force myself to focus. I was beginning to understand why my mother sometimes turned to putty when my father looked at her. It took a mental effort to keep my mind clear, I was a professional woman, I was well educated, and I would not lose my head over a pretty face.

"This deep in the woodland?" he questioned as if my worries were unnecessary.

"I said Something, not someone," I replied, irritated by how much he was affecting me.

Sam seemed to notice I was struggling and stepped into the conversation, the amusement on his face still annoyingly noticeable.

"What I don't understand, if she died by what you said, then where is the child? Why just leave her body here?"

All valid questions. All questions I had no certain answer for.

"Honestly," I kept my attention on him, aware that there were still another's eyes on me as I spoke, "I don't know. Too many possibilities here. I would like to believe it was ignorance or innocence. Maybe whoever did this didn't know the possible consequences. As for the child, there's a good chance it's with its father now."

I was lost to my thoughts then. Trying to put two and two together when they refused to fit. Hoping for a reasonable explanation when my rational mind fought against it.

"This wasn't innocent," his voice was dark and angered when he replied.

"No way of knowing if it was planned but it certainly wasn't innocent."

He spat the word as if even the notion offended him.

I met his eyes again, the revulsion in his stare was hard to mistake. I didn't understand why, but it hurt to see it there. Did I revolt him too?

"Innocent was probably the wrong word," I muttered, looking away before making a decision then, "either way, we have to dispose of her body and thoroughly. You then need to make a choice about your next move. Me, if I'm not needed anymore, will be going back to work tomorrow."

"Who said you weren't needed?" his voice was thick with an emotion I didn't understand. I looked up and my mind unfocused at the intensity of his gaze.

"I'm no help to anyone with this," I told him honestly.

I wasn't strong enough for this. My family always made that very clear with their actions. Protecting me from everything that could ever hurt me, keeping me hidden until the growing had firmly halted. Even then, it had been hard for them to let me go. To let me live in fear that their world was too much for me. I had chosen in the end to distance myself from them and their protection. Better to live as an above average human than a below average supernatural.

"I disagree," his tone was firm, "You can tell us things about this that no one else can, and hopefully we won't find any more bodies like this."

"I highly doubt you will," I was sure of that.

"Even so," he moved past me now, talking as he went.

"I'd like to know more, if you'd be ok with that."

His stare was intense. I felt my thoughts stall as he fixed his gaze upon me.

Whatever you want, wherever you want, was my minds first response to his request.

His gazed flickered off mine giving me a moment to think clearly. I grew irritated with myself once I could think straight. Ren, you are a professional, responsible, grown ass woman, I told myself, so cut that out.

I repeated the words like a mantra, keeping myself strong.

Grown woman.

Responsible.

Professional.

"What do you need to know?" the tone that followed was deliberate and careful. It was easier to focus when he wasn't staring into my soul with those ridiculous hypnotic eyes. Just as the thought crossed my mind, he turned his full attention back to me and replied.

"Everything."