Open your eyes.
Realize you're not dead.
Take a look at an open book.
Do what you like, that's what I said.
Do what you like.
--Do What You Like by Blind Faith
--
"Claire, eat up, you have a big day ahead of you, Quil--be civil, Seth--and Sam, won't you tell Cassie to stop that--Cassie, stop that..." Emily bustles around the kitchen, looking harried, but smiling widely.
"Big day?" Claire asks. "Doing what?" She glances to the tall, thin--man? boy? She doesn't really know what he is--sitting across from her. Her, like his, plate of food sits untouched.
Claire fidgets when her aunt doesn't answer, wondering if she hasn't spoken loud enough. But she's swooping down over whatever it is Cassie's doing to her little brother, and Claire can't help it when her gaze is dragged back to Quil's dark, open eyes.
Quil doesn't really care that he's staring openly. He thinks he has the right to, and he doesn't care what Sam thinks about that. Let's see him try to go more than fifteen years without his imprint.
He stares openly at her, and then he stares openly into her eyes when she turns and looks at him.
Sam averts his eyes from the pair at the table. Apart from all his grumbling, he can't say how happy he is to have her back. That's why he grumbled. He heard when Emily told him (told him that on no account should he think of this when he was patrolling with Quil because it would kill him) but Claire was really not doing very well in New York.
He wasn't sure she knew it herself, but he could see when they met her at the baggage claim. Emily sighed, Quil let out a cross between a sigh and a moan and aohgodwhat...
When Cassie is safely away from her little brother, Sam feels Emily's hand on his arm, hears her whisper "Let's go."
--
"If you want to...we can go somewhere..." Quil is hesitant, still afraid she might disappear if he moves or talks too abruptly. He feels like he's standing on ice, and he knows he's heavy enough to break it.
"I'd like that."
He manages a smile, the first real one, the first one he's actually felt, in a long time, and the corners of her mouth turn upwards a bit. Their feet brush under the table.
"Where are you thinking of?" She asks after a few minutes.
"Are you done eating?"
She nods a mute yes.
"We can go now, then."
He stands and she follows him out the door. He turns halfway to face her. "Do you mind walking, or should we drive?"
"I don't mind." His hand reaches for hers and he lets out a barely audible sigh. It was amazing, what just that touch did. She said she never knew she was carrying that pain--well, he knew all too well, and if it was the only thing that helped it, he wasn't going to not hold her hand.
--
"Quil?"
"Yeah?" He closes his eyes briefly at the sound of her voice. How much he imagined her speaking the words he read from her hand, and now it's just...there.
She's just there.
"Why is it that...why when I..." She bites her lip and throws him a look.
"Yeah, I kind of have something to tell you."
"Okay." She waits, patiently, for him to talk.
He takes a deep breath. "Dammit, I've waited half my life for this and now I can't even say anything."
"It's okay, you can wait till you can."
"No, no, I have to..." He runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, Claire," he whispers. Just to say her name, like that, to her...
It all boils down to her being there.
"So when I saw you, before, you were two--" He stops, thinking he's started completely wrong. "See, I'm kind of--oh, shit. Okay. Have you ever heard the Quileute legends? Well, you probably haven't, but--"
"Emily told them to me once, when she was visiting."
"Oh. Okay. Well, that makes things easier." He falls silent. He reminds himself to remember to thank Emily for making this so much easier. She always surprised him.
"Why? She said they mattered, but she wouldn't tell me why."
"Because...Claire, I...they're kind of...true."
--
They reach the end of the road, and it spills into the beach. The next step is softer, cushioned by sand.
"True?"
He sighs. "Yes." And then it hits him that he really is stupid, or just can't think anymore, can't think with her here, because if he was thinking at all, he would have waited to tell her, because he can't live without her anymore.
"Claire, promise me you won't run away. I'm not bad, we're not bad, we're not monsters. Please, Claire, I couldn't stand it if you--" He's not above begging.
"I promise," she says, but looks puzzled. "What do you mean, true?"
"I mean...we're all...werewolves."
Claire's foot catches on a protruding rock, and Quil's arms are around her waist before she falls even an inch. She gasps from the shock of his burning hands on her bare skin, where her shirt was pushed up. He quickly sets her back.
"How does this answer...anything?" She frowns, and Quil has to close his eyes and look away, because god she's beautiful.
This time her hand grasps his, because his fear is practically radiating off of him, and she feels increasingly uneasy.
"There's a quirk, sort of, that we have. It's called imprinting." His voice is detached, floating.
"Imprinting...?"
"Yeah."
"And this is what happened to you." It's not a question.
Quil sighs. "Yes."
Claire waits, and he sighs again, running his hand through his hair. Claire recognizes some sort of nervous habit, and a feeling of something erupts in the pit of her stomach.
"Claire, you have to understand, that this, what I--what we have, it's not--there's nothing wrong with it. It might seem a little--but really, Claire, please, understand, that it's..." He closes his eyes. He's been doing that a lot lately. He knows he's butchering this, but he feels calm anyways. He knows it's going to turn out all right--but if it doesn't, at least he's seen her. At least she'll know.
--
Lighten up, Quil, says Embry's voice in his head. You're being paranoid. This is Claire. She came here, didn't she?
"What's imprinting, Quil?" Claire asks.
Quil takes steps along the sand, and Claire quickly follows. He clenches the hand that isn't surrounding hers into a fist. "It's...Jake, he once described it as...gravity moves. When you see your imprint, it's like...nothing else matters. Well, it does, but...when I saw you, it was..."
"Your letter," she murmurs.
"What?" He stops walking.
"Nothing."
"Anyways...yeah. I imprinted on...uh, you. Yeah."
"So what does that mean?"
"What do you mean, what does it mean?" Somehow they've turned and are facing each other. Claire's facing the ocean.
"You know." Her eyes find his and he looses his train of thought.
"It means that I love you forever, Claire, no matter what." Claire barely hears him, and she thinks that maybe it's just a whisper on the wind.
"That doesn't freak me out as much as it should," she says. She tries to hide the fact that it conjures a very different emotion in her.
He breathes out a sigh. "Good." His hand reaches up, brushes her cheek. It's always easier when he's touching her.
He crushes her in a hug, and they stand for minutes, hours, they don't really know...Quil realizes her shoulders are shaking, and he pulls back.
"Claire? Claire, don't cry, why are you..."
"I'm not--it's because I'm happy, Quil, I really can't believe--it's just you and..." She stops when his hands cradle her face and his thumbs wipe under her eyes. He's so gentle, as if she's made of tissue paper. His fingers brush over her face, feeling, memorizing. Over her cheekbones and lips--they part and he feels short, cool breath on his fingers.
They stand for what feels like hours--but maybe it actually is, Claire thinks, when she sees the sun sinking lower and lower in the sky across the ocean. Claire thinks that, yeah, she hardly knows him, and yeah, he says they're soul mates, and yeah, that's a little weird, but she couldn't think of anything else she'd rather be doing. Or rather, anyone else she'd rather be with.
--
Quil feels slightly drunk. Or high, or something, he doesn't really know. He remembers when Embry kept trying to get him drunk. It didn't work.
Well, it worked, sure, but it didn't help.
God, if it means being with her, he loves being drunk. Passing out and everything.
He mumbles something incoherent into her hair. He never actually thought he'd ever see her again, really. Now he could be truthful with himself, and think that, and know that's the truth, because he wouldn't have been able to think of that when she was so far away.
--
Dear Claire,
It would be impossible for me to say in words to your face how...see? I can't even do it on paper. I can't even say what I feel to have you back here, again, and you can't imagine what...
I don't think I should embarrass myself further trying to tell you. It's just I see you all the time, and I can't help thinking about what if you were always here, and...always here.
The weeks pass and every day I'm scared you're leaving, your mom's going to call, Sam's going to--and every day you stay. You laugh with Embry and Seth and Jacob and never fail to be Claire.
Well, I guess that would make sense, seeing that you are Claire.
But I'd rather anything, anything to have happened, but now you're here and really, that's all that matters.
Please don't be freaked out by the imprinting thing. It's really...not a big deal, and...you don't have to worry about it, if you don't want to.
Don't let Embry torture you too much. And about Jake? Just ask him.
Quil
--
"...and she...what?"
"Left."
Claire gapes at Jacob. "What? This is after her...boyfriend...left her in..."
"Tatters, literally, yeah." Jacob smiles in a sort of pained way, as if remembering something funny and--painful. "Almost literally." The smiles changes to a grimace.
"Hypocrite," Claire mutters.
Jake grins. "Yeah, sort of."
"Sort of? She just leaves you right after you had helped her...god, Jake. I'm sorry to say it, but you're really better off without her." A shadow crosses his face and she wonders if she's said too much.
"Yeah, I am, really." He sits up. "But Claire? Just don't do that to Quil, leave like that."
"I'm not...planning on it." She frowns. Does he actually think she'd leave, just like that? "And anyways, I don't have anything to go back to."
--
"He what?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters. What'd he tell you?"
"He just told me about the girl..."
"Yeah, and after that?"
"How d'you know...oh, fine, he just told me never to leave you." Claire crosses the room in a few steps. Quil runs his fingers through his hair.
"Okay," he mutters. "Jake is such a..."
"No, he's..." Claire brushes Quil's face with her fingers, feather-light. "Right. I guess."
"Mm." His eyes close, blink, open again. She's staring into his bottomless chocolate brown eyes, and she can't...
"Uh, Claire?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I kiss you?"
--
Once he starts, he can't stop. He knew this would happen, that once his lips touched hers there was no going back. He knew from when he first saw her that there was no going back.
Embry slams open the door (is that even possible?) and they don't even move, and he stares at them for a second then lets out a loud "finally!" and ducks out.
He just can't get enough of her, of her whisper-soft lips and raven hair and god she's beautiful. He knows how ridiculous they must look, but really? who's looking? all twisted and her fingers are through his hair...and he can't seem to care Sam could walk in any second, just like Embry. He doesn't care.
He can't get enough of her, his fingers brush over her face, eyes, cheekbones, pull back to look at her, kiss her again, because god why can't he stop?
His body's not listening to his brain, but really, why would he want to stop anyways?
--
She needs air. She needs air but she's not pulling away because she can't, because then she'd have to think about something other than him.
But he untangles his fingers from her hair, pulls away his lips. She's gasping for breath, can't catch it, not because she hasn't breathed in what feels like a very long time, but because...
God, he's looking at her like...why did his eyes have to be so...
"Um. Sorry." He grins, sort of bashfully. She realizes that he looks happy. She also realizes she's against the wall. She can't remember going there. Quil steps back a bit, looking slightly sheepish.
"Just because it was unexpected doesn't mean it was bad, Quil..." She doesn't even know what she's saying. She can't think straight.
"Yeah. Yeah. Not bad."
"That's all? Just not bad?" She smiles faintly at him.
He laughs. "Of course not! Silly Claire..."
--
She laughs nervously. She thinks back. She doesn't think she's been this nervous, ever. Or this happy.
Dammit, she can't look in his eyes and she can't not look in his eyes. They meet and her eyes dart away, flick between his eyes and the wall behind him.
He's not sure whether her looking all embarrassed is good or bad, so he pulls her to him, buries his face in her hair, breathes in her scent.
Her arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels her eyelashes against his skin, her breath cool. Her shoulders shake, nails dig into his back. His skin is wet with her tears.
He hates seeing her cry. It must be the worst feeling in the world, he thinks.
"Claire? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing--" Her face is buried against him but he can feel her cry.
A thought crosses his mind as a shadow crosses his face, settles in his eyes. "It's not--"
She nods. "I'm sorry, I just thought of him--couldn't not, couldn't--I couldn't..." She takes a deep, shuddering breath, lets it out and ends up how she started. "I can't...I can't remember...since I came here--Quil, I..."
"Claire. Claire, it's okay. Don't think about him. You don't have to."
"I can't not! I don't con--control every--I don't stop myself--I can't stop myself from thinking--" The tears are pouring down her face as she pulls away from him. He stands helplessly. "I can't--it's not--"
"Claire, please, what--"
"You have no idea! You don't know--you don't understand--"
"I don't understand? At least you didn't even know! I had to live this long knowing what I was missing!" His fists clench as the images and cloudy scenes flash in his mind.
"I did! I did know! Because of you--why did you have to write--why did you have to write to me when you knew that I'd know--you just wanted--" She backs away from him. "You just--"
"What are you talking about? I never wanted anything for you other than you to be--"
"Don't! Don't even...I don't...I can't, don't, please..."
He feels each time a tear drops off her face to the floor it's like a knife in his heart.
"What are you talking about?" He whispers.
--
"Well, so why aren't you leaving?"
Claire looks at Jacob and sighs. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Aw, come on, Claire."
"What? Why do you even care?" She snaps.
He frowns. "I think you know the answer to that question. But you still haven't answered mine."
"Why don't I leave?" She stands up, paces back and forth. "Even though I made a complete fool of myself and it hurts like hell I'm still not leaving because that would mean going back to New York."
"How did you make a complete fool of yourself?"
She throws her hands up in the air. "I kiss him, or he kisses me, whatever, then I completely break down and say random stuff about how some other guy got his hands too far up my shirt and down my pants and then start crying and doing stupid things and why am I telling you this?"
"Who?"
"What?"
"Who? Are you talking about?" There's something in his expression that reminds her too much of Quil.
"Just some guy my so-called friends made me go out with. A jerk. It doesn't matter."
"Did you tell him to stop?"
"Why are you going all protective on me now, Jake?"
"I'm not--okay, whatever. What does that have to do with Quil?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters, Claire. I'm not going to let it be that easy for you to leave. Didn't you promise not to?"
She bites her lip. "Jake--I didn't know--I don't know, what he does to me, I don't..."
"Don't tell me you don't like it, Claire. You have something a lot of people would give anything for. Don't waste it."
"But I--"
"Fine, then. Leave. Leave him, then. Do what you like."
--
Quil--
I'm too much of a coward to talk to you to your face, so I'm writing you this. It feels so much like old times, and I don't know whether that's good or bad. Sometimes I miss it, but then I think of now, and of how much it hurt to be away from you...
Anyway. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have done that, any of that, and I shouldn't have mentioned--anything.
Quil. I don't know what to think. Everything's all...
I think I really do love you, Quil. Really. There can't be any other explanation for how I'm feeling, how much it hurts, even though I know you're right there. It's so stupid, to fight over stupid things, when we missed so much time, too much time.
I'm sorry.
Claire.
--
"Don't do that again, Claire, don't you dare..." Quil tries as hard as he can not to cry as he holds her as close as he can. "You did nothing wrong, nothing..."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she keeps on murmuring. "I'm sorry..."
He presses his lips to the top of her head, to her forehead, cheeks, finally her lips.
"I love you, Claire, I love you, I love you..."
After all, she said it first.
--
"You don't want to talk about it?" Quil and Jacob are both staring at her. She squirms uncomfortably.
"No, I don't want to talk about it."
"Claire..."
"I'm sure."
"You should."
"Jake, I just don't, okay?" She draws her knees up to her chin. Quil frowns at her.
"Why?"
"Why? Uh..." She gives up trying to explain it, trying to deny, to refuse. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
Jacob looks slightly surprised and Quil looks a bit scared.
"Who was it?"
"What, do you want his name? Address? So what? You can go beat him up?"
"I was more thinking about the killing part." It's the first time Quil's spoken, and it's soft but overflowing.
"Quil."
"What, you don't want him killed?"
"I never said that, I just don't want you guys to become murderers just for that. He's across the country, I'm never seeing him again."
"Claire?" Jake frowns even more than he already is. Quil glances at him, his eyes masked.
"What?"
"Did he..."
"What?"
"Did he...?"
"No."
Quil closes his eyes.
"No."
--
"Claire?"
"Hm?" Claire opens her eyes and looks into Quil's wide brown ones.
"I'm sorry." They close. His eyelashes brush against his skin.
"For what?"
"I'm sorry I didn't try to find you. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to help you."
Claire sighs, and Quil feels her body rise and fall against his.
"You couldn't have done anything. You did all you could."
"I didn't do anything."
"You wrote." Her eyes meet his again and he looks away.
"Wrote," he repeats. "Yeah."
Claire takes another deep breath, says, "Quil, stop it."
"Yeah."
"Quil. You could never have done anything. Nothing's your fault. Just stop."
"Yeah."
Claire presses her lips to his, wraps her arms around him, pulls him close.
"Yeah."
--
Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right
Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right
-Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles