Disclaimer: Twilight doesn't belong to me. It belongs to the SMeyer.
Author's Note: Two things: let me explain about Jake and Peter, and I'm sorry about the time delay .
Okay, then.
First, Peter's excuse is supposed to be weak - this is a werewolf story and so I am villifying the actual killing vampires (not the vegetarian ones).
Jake's excuse: his father is dying. This is the father that has supported him though everything, that has provided for him after his mother died and he has looked after since he took to a wheelchair and who cared for him whilst he went through his change. He is therefore going to be extremely upset that his father is dying.
He isn't going to want someone he is so close to to die too. Remember, he helped Leah as she tried to come to terms with Sam and Emily having children whilst she... couldn't. He was the only one she would talk to for an extremely long time and that made their bond as strong as Edward's and Alice's, probably even stronger. He needed her to talk to, because she was often removed from situations and could offer unaffected advice.
It was all purely selfish, but you can't blame him - he needs a crutch outside the family, as well as Nessie and the Cullens.
I'm really sorry it took so long. Time flies. I have been settling into my routine again and, with a ton of work being forced upon me as soon as I walked through the door, I haven't had any time to type it up, although it has been hand written since the 29th August. And, I knew where I wanted this chapter to go - I did, but that path has changed dramatically. The characters are talking to me, influencing me. That makes me sound crazy, doesn't it? I'll shut up now.
Love and Pain Go Hand in Hand
Leah's POV
Chapter 10 ~ Solution
I sat there, sipping my lukewarm coffee and nursing my guilt and anger. Mom pottered around in the background, speaking regularly and humming some of my favourite songs to try and disturb the air of discontent and unhappiness that had engulfed me.
That Tuesday went just as planned. I arrived to a drizzly La Push, and nicked some of Mom's clothes from the washing line to put on before I changed forms and trudged inside. An air of misery permeated everything, as I remembered tales from various years. All of the Christmases, Thanksgivings and such that had taken place in this small house. More sharply came the memories of Harry: our first dinner, our first movie, our ensuing love and marriage. Then the sharp pain as I remembered the little time we had had to share the simple things in life. Our ambitions to see the world and help all had hindered our efforts to raise a family and so we waited. Too long, my mind whispered. You wasted the best years of your life. It's too late now. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When Mom walked in, I broke down and sobbed out what I could of the tale. A deafening silence followed. Mom looked shocked beyond belief, her mouth wide open, before suddenly snapping shut as the tears welled in her eyes. Together, we cried out our tears of grief for such a wonderful man whose life had ended so suddenly and so viciously.
I decided I needed to apologise to Sam and Emily. Undoubtedly, they would have been told. Harry was their son. Jacob wasn't so short-sighted that he would have ignored this responsibility. At least I wouldn't have to tell them the worst.
I arrived at their house, a tired, red-eyed Emily opening the door to me. She looked me dead in the eyes before snarling, better than any wolf, "You're not welcome here any more, Leah."
"Emily, don't do this. I need to talk to you, I need to-"
"You don't need to do anything. I, on the other hand, need to grieve. He was my son. Leave." She slammed the door in my face. It wasn't the greeting that was hoped for, but it was to be expected. It didn't make it hurt any less when it actually happened. I sunk to the ground, tears mingling with the ever-present rain on my face.
I sat on the doorstep for hours. I had no sense of time passing again. I had no emotion again. I was becoming an wreck, but that was something that couldn't be helped. Not with the loss of my Harry. As I was lamenting, I heard the door open behind me. I spun around to see Emily, still tired, still red-eyed. I hated that I had caused this.
"I'm sorry, Leah. I didn't mean to be so... I don't know. Anyway, I didn't mean to shout at you like that. Come in." I shuffled inside, my wet clothes and hours in the rain had cooled even my werewolf body heat down.
"Don't apologise," I murmured quietly to her. "I didn't expect any other reaction. I deserve to be shouted at." Emily didn't answer, so I knew she was thinking exactly the same thing. I was glad to know someone agreed with me, even if she hated me.
"Where's Sam?"
"He didn't take the news well," she replied evading the question. Until I saw the chaos in the front room, I didn't fully understand.
"He... he changed?" I asked, knowing this was the truth as I looked into her eyes and around the house. I sighed deeply. How many more lives would I ruin in my pathetic and futile existence? What was my purpose on earth? To be placed in acid, thrash about and splash it on others, hurting them too? I was disgusted with myself.
She nodded. "It's not your fault. Harry is, partially, but not all of it."
"Stop it Em. Stop trying to excuse me. It is my fault, and I'm sick of people saying otherwise." Strange how, despite the serious circumstances, my brain recognised how much I sounded like Bella. Funny how I realised the species I hated most were the ones I was like myself. Odd how life pans out, really.
"Peter would have found a way. If Edward said Peter would have found a way, Peter would have found a way. He's a vampire, for crying out loud. He has a vast mind capacity for such things, especially when they are directed towards satiating bloodlust." I tried to tune out to such reasonable explanations, but I couldn't. I had to listen to every word excusing my guilt, and every sentiment freeing some of my guilt. I sighed. "And Jacob didn't let you kill Peter." I was surprised he had told them, or let it slip. Trying to free me of blame again, I supposed.
"I should have been able to stop that, or persuade him to change his mind or something," I cried in frustration.
"He's a pig-headed idiot. You wouldn't have changed his mind." She seemed dead set on that for some reason. I was just contemplating the reasoning behind that when she sighed. "If it were Nessie, he'd have killed him. He would have cared too damn much for anything else. And he'd have thought of loopholes." She sighed again.
"Shall I talk to him?"
"No point. What's done is done." She was silent a moment more. We were both thinking of the strange, ridiculous reason why Jacob stopped me killing Peter. I was going to have to speak to him as soon as possible about changing the Alpha order. I could finally get revenge, regardless of what Emily thought. I needed this badly. It was the only thing I could do to try to patch myself back together.
"I could always-"
"I said there's no point," she sighed. I was shocked. She'd all but said we should kill Peter, so why couldn't I at least get my ideas out?
"But, Em, we have-"
"Leah, just shut up!" she yelled at me. She took a deep breath. "I hate Peter and I am devastated at Harry's death. Don't doubt that. But whatever we feel or think or believe, it doesn't give us a right to play God and kill whoever we blame for whatever went wrong. Sometimes it's better to let it be..." She trailed off, leaving me with thought. She was right: sometimes it was better to let things be. Not this time.
"I don't think you really mean that," I proposed, hoping to win her round to my way of thinking. That is, death to Peter. "You're too emotional to judge."
"And so are you," she sighed exasperatedly. "We've both lost someone who meant the world to us. Neither of us can judge. Surely it's not too much to ask for you to calm down and think before you go all gung-ho and start trying to kill him. A few weeks, when you've had time to consider it properly. It might seem like weeks since Harry died, but it was yesterday, Lee. Less than twenty-four hours. That's nowhere near enough time to adjust or anything."
"You say it like it's remotely possible," I replied coldly. "Harry meant the world to me, we had an entire future planned. It's not like I can forget everything and go back to the way it was. My world was tipped on its head when Harry was killed. Only one thing can right it, and that's Peter."
"Enough, Leah." Her voice was strong and commanding, a lot like an Alpha order. It made me stop and take note. "Stop acting like everything's a done deal, like there are no barriers between you and what you want. There is an entire coven of vampires and a werewolf standing between you and Peter. So... give up. Stop this fool's errand and live your life like Harry would have wanted."
I was, once again, reeling. She really was saying, 'stay away'. What was it about the last two days? Gang up against Leah? Ruin Leah? End Leah's life in the cruelest, bloodiest, nastiest way possible? Thank you, Providence. Now they had even convinced my only possible ally to stop me. And I love you too, Life.
"How can you ask that?" I whispered weakly. My one true constant, no matter what had happened in life, mythical or otherwise, she was constant. Until now. She was directly saying no. I had to know why.
"I can ask it easily. As Harry's mother, I ask that you don't. I don't want you to give your life up to revenge. That is no life at all. Hatred and violence. What would Harry think if he saw you like this?" I couldn't answer. I knew full well what Harry would think. He wouldn't be angry - he'd be sad, disappointed and grave. All so much worse than angry. "That is how I can ask you not to do this. Because I know Harry wouldn't want you to." She stood me up and dragged me to the door, wrenching a promise from me not to kill Peter. A quick "Goodbye, Leah. Go home," and I was pushed into the pouring La Push rain.
I sat out for a bit, letting the rain wash and cleanse my skin. I needed it. So many thoughts of bloodshed (minus the blood, of course) and torture had been going through my mind that I feared I was no longer sane. The clouds and sheeting rain also surrounded me, protected me from the vicious world of dog-eat-dog. Somehow, I thought I could hide from life. I needed a safe harbour now that mine had disappeared, but nowhere felt safe anymore.
Even so, I walked home. Mom had done my dinner and left to get Charlie from Billy's. I didn't know whether to eat or go straight to my room, so I hovered, dripping wet in the doorway. I was extremely tired from my run and the emotional draining of my talk with Emily. I rested my head on the sofa, and before I knew it, I had drifted to sleep.
Harry smiles at me. I see his warm grin light up his features as I lay in my safe harbour.
"Not looking too great there, L," he whispers.
"Do you expect me to?" I smile back tiredly. I try to memorise his features again. His brown eyes, melted chocolate, the gateway to his bright soul. His large hands, big enough to engulf mine, rough and calloused from our work in the third world, both just perfect for me. His arms hugging my waist, holding me close as we mold together as one. The exact colour of his hair as it blows in the breeze, the light glinting from it.
"Not particularly," he replies. "I just wanted you to be strong, L, for me." He gives me a serious little half-smile. "You know I'll love you, no matter where I am or where you are and what you do. I'll always be yours." He rests his forehead against my own.
"I know. I'll love you for eternity - you and no one else. I'm always yours." We sit there in our happy bubble. We are just happy to relax and be together. Then I have a feeling there was something to remember. Something terrible that is of importance. Something that will burst our happy bubble. I tense up.
"Leah?" he asks. He wonders what is wrong with me. I wonder what is wrong with me. Yet, I can't shake the feeling of terror that is gripping me with this creeping fact.
Then, I remember.
Then, I scream.
So much for a good night's sleep, I thought. I groaned as I rolled over to check the time. My phone lights up with the time, 2:49 am, only four hours after I went to bed. Well, wasn't that typical? If I do sleep, I dream of a Harry hugging me, a thought which brought so many happy memories, making me more depressed. Again, I had to reflect on my purpose in life. Was there one, even? If there was, what was it? I could see no reason for me to exist any more. Except revenge that I couldn't have. Unless I thought of a loophole. There was a timewaster.
See, I wanted to kill Peter. But, I had been told not to kill Peter. I had also promised not to kill Peter. Therein lies the problem - I had promised not o do the only thing I wanted to do. It was a vicious, never-ending cycle. I kept going in circles trying to find a way round it. I could rip him to pieces, but, seeing as how he could put himself back together again, it didn't have the finality I wanted it to. That was the only other idea I had.
Eventually, even I, the revenge-driven harpy, got bored. There was only so much plotting I could do with little sleep and an empty stomach. At a semi-respectable time of six am, I went to get a bowl of cereal. A few minutes of mindless chatting with Mom and Charlie before they kissed and said they'd meet at Billy's. My heart gave a wrench to see them so happy together. In an effort to ignore them, I dug furiously into my cereal.
I finished, washed the bowl and let Mom know I was using the shower. I let the hot water soothe my tense muscles and ease a little of the guilt for a moment, before heading back to bed with a hot chocolate. I plotted fruitlessly for a while until falling to sleep again.
I didn't awake refreshed. I woke with a start, Harry's face dancing in my mind. I woke with adrenaline coursing through my veins as I screamed in fear of Harry's life. I woke having relived the worst second of my life. That was all it took to snuff out a life - a second. One tiny, never-ending second. My room went blurry as my eyes welled up. My Harry was gone forever.
Even though it seemed like I had remembered it and thought it thousands of times, each time hit me as hard as it did when I first realised. I could never see him, never hold him, never grow old with him. Never, never. Ripped from our grasp, I thought once more. The future stolen. With two people to blame; myself and Peter. I was being adequately punished - I would never feel Harry's love again. But Harry didn't deserve his end, and so I needed vengeance. I, once again fruitlessly, tried to end Peter's life. It didn't work.
Mom dragged me out of my room at eleven to do something. Moping was better than locking myself into my room, apparently.
So I sat there, sipping my lukewarm coffee and nursing my guilt and anger. Mom pottered around in the background, speaking regularly and humming some of my favourite songs to try and disturb the air of discontent and unhappiness that had engulfed me.
Instead of trying to find a way of killing Peter (for once), I remembered one of my first hunts as a werewolf. The newborns and Victoria. I gasped loudly, my coffee falling to the floor.
Victoria tried to kill Bella for Edward killing James. Mate for mate. Charlotte for Harry.
No, no no no no! my mind shouted in response. That's not right, it's not fair!
Fair on who? The voice asked. Nothing that has happened to you has been fair, so why should you consider being fair to them?
But she did nothing wrong!
All is fair in love and war. This is a mixture of the two. All is fair!
I can't.
Of course you can. Don't you want Peter to pay?
Yes, but-
Don't you want Harry's death to be avenged?
Yes, but-
But nothing. This is the only way to make him suffer like Harry did and like you are suffering now!
It's not her fault!
Blame, guilt, fault: they mean nothing. This is a world of myths and legends, where they have no value to the minds of those who are true to what they are. Kill Charlotte and you right the only world that matters: yours.
I can't!
Peter feels the pain you want him to, Harry is avenged, more humans survive and you don't kill Peter, just like you promised. You have no better idea that fulfils all of that. Go for it.
I was shocked into silence. My brain was progressively being possessed by these thoughts of hatred, death and destruction. So enticing, so fitting. I had no better idea, and I knew that it would be impossible to convince Jacob to change the order.
However unjust, I now had a quest. Peter was going to hurt.
AN: Like I said, I'm evil. But, I wrote myself into a hole, and I saw a loophole... in chapter 7. I really am evil. If you have a spare ten seconds, could you click on the little review button below and tell me how evil I am to punish Charlotte. I'm sorry in advance. I really didn't want to, but all's fair!
