A/N: At end.

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

* * *

SEVEN

* * *

I grinned at Cellie's infectious energy. We were on the bus on our way to Seattle, and she had been like this from the moment she woke up. It was looking to be a very good day, and we had started it in a great mood. She even tried to be funny by asking me every so often where we were going, hoping to catch me off guard. I just laughed and shook my head whenever this happened.

As if anyone could catch me off guard with my superhuman reflexes.

Meanwhile, I fired questions at her to try to keep her mind on other things, and she was currently answering my question about this Deafchat website she belonged to. Naturally, she had a hi-tech camera hooked up to her computer, where she could control who could see her, and who she could see. She could have a conversation with up to ten people at a time, but she currently had a small group of three, herself not included, that she talked to almost daily. It put me in mind of a face-to-face blog. I asked her what they talked about, and she grinned and asked what my friends and I talked about. I just made a face at that one.

YOU HAVE BOY… FRIENDS? I asked, trying to appear casual, but she just rolled her eyes at me.

YES, she signed, sticking her tongue out at me. NAME W-A-L-T.

I frowned. I-Z-ZY, YOU MEET INTERNET? I asked, wanting to know if she met him online, along with these other people. That could be potentially dangerous.

NO, she grinned. I-Z-Z-Y, WE MEET, BUS STOP. HE NICE. VERY. HELP-ME FIND SCHOOL.

I frowned even more at that. THEN, YOU DECIDE… HIS DORM, YOU STAY, SLEEP OVERNIGHT?

She frowned at me as she realized what I was asking. NO, E-M-B-R-Y. I-Z-Z-Y HAVE ROOMMATE… GIRL. I-Z-Z-Y GAY, HE LIKE BOYS. ME KNOW I-Z-Z-Y LONG TIME. ONE YEAR.

Oh. … Oh. Then, wait… Co-ed dorms?

Then she grinned at the dumbfounded expression on my face, and dropped the bomb-of-the-day. I-Z-Z-Y, HE-TELL-ME… YOU CUTE.

My eyes widened. ME LIKE YOU, NOT GAY! I signed, rapidly, as all thoughts of the possible co-ed dorms flew out of the window.

She just giggled, and pressed her lips together, as if she had a secret. I groaned, knowing exactly what was coming.

HE-ASK-ME IF YOU GAY… ME-TELL-HIM MAYBE, and as my face expression went from dumbfound to shock, she burst into loud laughter, startling quite a few people seated around us.

I stared at her for a second, and then worked up the courage to ask warily, W-A-L-T… HE GAY?

At that, she completely lost it, and I couldn't do anything, but shake my head. When she had fully recovered ten minutes later, I asked her seriously if she had met anyone else in real life that she had met online, and her face took on this wistful expression as she signed, NO.

WHAT WRONG? I asked, grateful to be changing the subject.

She abruptly began to bite the inside of her cheek, and I placed my hand on the outside, instinctively. She stopped almost immediately as her face darkened with a blush. My heartbeat reacted accordingly, as did hers, followed by the reaction of my nether regions, and I reluctantly pulled my hand away. To say that this was the wrong place and time would be an understatement.

TELL-ME, I coaxed instead.

MY DAD… ME-MEET-HIM… INTERNET, she finally signed. LONG-TIME-AGO. MY MOM, SHE DON'T-KNOW. ME-TELL-HER, NEVER.

From the way her heartbeat quickened, and the expression on her face, I knew she had never shared this with anyone. I didn't need to ask her to figure that out. I probably would have been able to tell from her face alone.

She looked up at me and the vulnerability in her eyes was overwhelming. I reached out, wanting to hold her hand, wanting to make physical contact with her somehow, but she needed her hands to tell me this story. I contented myself, and hoped I was helping, by placing my hand lightly on her knee instead.

Her breathing faltered for a second, but after a quick glance at me, she ignored it and continued to sign.

LONG-TIME-AGO, ME OLD ONE YEAR. MY DAD… HE LEAVE. HE NEVER CALL, NEVER WRITE LETTER. ME ASK-MOM WHY? SHE DON'T-KNOW. SIX-YEARS-AGO, HE FIND ME. INTERNET. WE TALK. ME WANT MEET. HE SAY NO.

I quickly did the math. She was ten-years-old at the time.

She shrugged, and stared down at her hands. Her signs were a whisper now. HE STOP TALK-TO ME. THEN… TWO-YEARS-AGO… MOM TELL-ME… HE DEAD.

My eyes widened, but she continued to sign.

HE DRINK… HE DRIVE… She shrugged again. HE DEAD.

I stared at her, my mouth hanging open. ME SORRY, I barely managed to sign.

At the movement, she looked up at my hands, and her eyes flashed to my face for a minute and then away again. I repeated the sign.

ME O.K., she signed, looking up again and giving me a small smile. ME-DON'T-KNOW HIM, NEVER MEET.

I let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

SAME, I finally replied. MY DAD… WE NEVER MEET.

She gave me a curious look. HE DEAD? she asked, and I thought for a second about how if that had come from anyone else, it could be considered callous. But not Cellie. She seriously wanted to know.

I-DON'T-KNOW, I answered, honestly. BEFORE ME BORN, HE LEAVE. HE NEVER SEE ME. ME NEVER SEE HIM.

WHY? she asked.

I-DON'T-KNOW, I repeated. And I really didn't. I had asked my mom about this when I was younger and she told me that he didn't want her anymore, that it had nothing to do with me. But I wasn't stupid. I knew that her getting pregnant and him deciding to leave around that time wasn't a coincidence. I never pried for details.

ME O.K. I signed to her worried expression. ME HAVE MOM. HE HAVE FRIENDS. THEY FAMILY. ME HAPPY.

She smiled at me then, and reached over to squeeze my knee. Her fingertips touched me and her hand stilled. I watched her curiously as she peered at me.

E-M-B-R-Y, she signed, after pulling her hand away from me. YOU NEED SIGN-NAME. YOU UNDERSTAND? SIGN-NAME?

YES, I answered, pleased that I actually did understand for once. I had come across this when I was looking signs up online. A sign-name is a nickname given to someone by a Deaf person. Only a Deaf person can give someone a sign name. It usually has to do with a certain characteristic or a hobby unique to that person, so I was interested in what sign-name she would give me.

E-M-B-R-Y… She held the letter 'E' up to her face, and brought it down sharply, as if she were signing the word, 'hot.' Of course, this made me blush, even though I knew that she meant my body temperature, not my looks. Or, at least I assumed that's what she meant.

YOU LIKE? she asked me, and I grinned at her.

YES… YOU HAVE SIGN-NAME? I asked, curiously. I had never thought she would just because I know she didn't often hang out with other Deaf people.

She smiled and signed the word, 'play.' Then, she signed it again, but replaced it with a 'C.'

I-Z-Z-Y, HIS ROOMMATE, SAY ME ALWAYS PLAY, PLAY, PLAY. MY SIGN-NAME 'PLAY,' she said, shrugging, but I could tell she was pleased with it.

I pretended to think about it. YES, I signed, YOU ALWAYS PLAY. I laughed, and she hit me lightly on the arm.

Right then, the bus driver announced that we would arrive within the next five minutes, and I relayed the news to Cellie. She promptly resumed her bouncing, which made me laugh all over again.

The show was to be held in the a giant tent, just like a traditional circus. So I paid for a taxi to take us to a park, and held my hands over Cellie's ears, as if to stop her from hearing it. The cab driver nodded and gave me an exaggerated wink, which caused both Cellie and I to burst out laughing. He didn't understand what was funny until we started signing in the backseat, and then I saw him turn red in the rearview mirror.

He didn't take it harshly at all, though, and as we were leaving, he even wrote on a sketchpad, "ENJOY THE SHOW!" and showed it to Cellie.

Of course, she gave me a quizzical look at this, and I was worried for a second that he had blown the surprise. But she didn't ask any questions.

We walked along the path until we ran into the hundreds of people, and tents, and food, and souvenirs. Cellie turned to me when she saw the first tent and fingerspelled, excitedly, C-I-R-C-U-S? Then signed it.

SORT-OF, I signed back, purposely vague. She pursed her lips at me, but her eyes were dancing in anticipation.

We made good timing. The show wasn't due to start for an hour, and there was actually a pre-show for the early-goers, but I figured that Cellie was probably more interested in the food they had to offer. I know I was.

I asked her and she immediately nodded, her stomach letting out a loud rumble at the mention of it. I laughed and she blushed in embarrassment.

We got hot dogs, and I tried not to go overboard with them, only getting five for myself and two for Cellie. I know the man who was selling them had assumed we were getting them for other people, since with every hot dog he passed us, he asked what we wanted on it.

TOILET? I asked when we were done. YOU NEED TO-GO?

She nodded, and together, we navigated our way to the toilet tents. They were porta-potties, which were disgusting, but hey, when you have to go… I wished I had thought to go when we were at the bus station.

By the time we were done with everything, it was about twenty minutes until show time. I assumed most people were headed into the big tent because the grounds had started to clear. It was still crowded, just not as bad as it was when we first arrived.

READY? I had to ask more than once, as her eyes were so busy taking in everyone and everything around her.

She grinned, nodded, and reached for my hand. That familiar spark was there when we touched like always, and I smiled back at her. She was absolutely glowing with her excitement. It was contagious.

I suddenly couldn't wait for the show to start. I pulled her along after me, wishing I could walk fast and watch her face at the same time. We made it to the big tent and an usher handed out playbills - I took both of them, so Cellie wouldn't see - then quickly helped us find our seats. Our seats weren't fantastic, but they definitely weren't bad. Cellie would be able to see everything clearly because of the stadium seat. It didn't matter for me. My vision was excellent - if I had to, I would be able to see tiny costuming details from the back row effortlessly.

We sat down and she turned to me, questioning. NOT CIRCUS?

I shook my head, and she stuck out her tongue, pouting.

Five minutes to go and I watched her watch everything else. I wondered, not for the first time, what this would be like for me if I was Deaf. There was music that went to this show that she would never be able to hear. She had never experienced music. There were excited children, and even more excited parents, teenagers, grandparents, all chattering loudly. All these things contributed to build up anticipation in people, and she could experience none of it. She saw the people, and she saw the stage, and she saw the movement, and I wondered if it was enough.

If it would ever be enough.

If I would ever be enough.

She turned to me and the smile on her face faltered a little. I quickly fixed my face expression, and she raised her hands to ask me what was wrong, I'm sure, but then the lights went dim, and the man - the ringmaster - stepped out onstage.

Instead of the relief I thought I should feel, because finally the wait was over, I felt my stomach tighten. I forgot how people usually made a speech of some kind before a show like this.

Would I have to translate?

But, surprisingly, Cellie didn't ask me to. She just watched him talk, her eyes round and childlike, and anticipatory still.

And then the show began.

I have to admit, I didn't see much of it. There were colors and people and amazing tricks, and for a brief moment, I considered joining them because it was pretty damn awesome watching a person on his hands balance another person on his feet, while a third person danced on their shoulders, or some shit like that. Yeah, the bit I actually did see was wicked.

But better than all of that was the look on her face. I had never been so happy and so perfectly content in the moment when her mouth fell open and she raised her hands to her face, and leaned forward on her knees, one leg bouncing and moving, because Cellie was not a person who could sit still with pure excitement. Then, she had reached over without looking at me and grabbed my hand. That's when I stopped watching the show completely, and immersed myself in her, instead.

The intermission was thirty minutes, but I didn't allow it to break the spell for her. We went and got drinks, popcorn, the works. She didn't have to use the bathroom again, and for that, I was glad. Other than relaying that information, we didn't sign. I could sense that she was just barely holding back, but she wanted to wait to share what she was feeling and thinking, so I didn't push.

Another hour of spectacular happenings passed, and I continued to watch her. I could barely contain myself during this hour. I wanted to do so much more than hold her hand. Her enthusiasm honestly made me want to rip her out of her seat and pull her to me. Or run off somewhere, preferably private, and ravish her senseless.

The show ended, and in whirlwind of movement, I rushed us out of the tent. I pulled us past everything, quickly, past the circus grounds into another area of the park, then I turned to her.

I didn't need to sign to get my feelings across. I'm sure they were all over my face. She was a body of emotions and I was riding her like a wave, high on what I felt emanating from her.

EMBRY, she signed, using my new sign-name instead of fingerspelling. Her face was impassive. My heart pounded, and I couldn't respond.

Then, without warning, her face crumpled and she shut her eyes, but she didn't cover her face. I felt my stomach drop.

I smelled the saltiness of her tears before I saw them. Horrified, I just stared at her, not knowing what to do, or what I had done. Had I offended her somehow? Did she hate me now? Was she mad because she couldn't fully enjoy the show? Was I wrong in thinking she wouldn't have preferred a movie?

I was such an epic failure. I had completely misread everything about her. I didn't know how I could be so stupid. I -

EMBRY, she signed again, her eyes opened now and glistening with tears. I attempted to swallow my fears. I choked on them.

Then, THANK YOU, she signed. And she threw her arms around me and body into me.

And I breathed.

And I smiled.

* * *

I had to tell her. I couldn't let her go on thinking this was a friendly gesture… that kissing her was enough for me. I had to tell her how I felt. And I still hadn't even delved into the problem of telling her about my… other side.

Then again, that probably wouldn't be the wisest move if I were trying to get her to stay.

'Hey, Cellie, I love you… And by the way, I'm a werewolf. Don't go to school, please,' I would say. Except, of course, it would be in sign. And then the running and screaming would commence. Or maybe not. Maybe my hands would be shaking too badly for her to understand me…

Bus rides back from happy day trips always seemed so much shorter. I didn't want it to end. And I knew it eventually would, and I really didn't want it to, and I had to tell her now -

CELLIE, I signed, using the sign-name, instead of fingerspelling, the same way she had done to me earlier. She sat up, where she had been resting her head on my shoulder - even though she had the window seat - and looked at me curiously, her eyebrows raised.

SHOW, YOU LIKE? I signed, lamely.

Predictably, she rolled her eyes, but smiled hugely anyway. SHOW, ME… She made a fist and kissed the back of it. It was a sign for, 'favorite' or 'love,' but not the kind of love I wanted to talk about.

ME HAPPY, I replied, unable to help smiling back.

WHAT WRONG? she asked. Naturally.

I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

REMEMBER, ME-TELL-YOU, KISSING ONLY, FINE? I asked, and she blushed, nodding.

Icontinued. NOW KISSING ONLY… NOT O.K. ME WANT YOU ALWAYS. HERE. STAY HERE. PLEASE. NOT GO-TO SCHOOL.

She started to shake her head, her eyes wide, but I wasn't done yet.

PLEASE STAY. ME LOVE YOU.

I braced myself for rejection. I wanted to just close my eyes so badly, but I forced them to stay open.

She stared at my hands, then up at my eyes, and she blinked a few times. I heard her heart stutter and I wondered if I had done it the right way. If there was a right or wrong way to lay a heart out on a line and hope it didn't get stomped on all over.

She could sign anything right now, and I was completely under her mercy, her control. Well, I was anyway, but now was different because now she knew.

YOU LOVE ME? she asked, but I wasn't sure if she really wanted me to answer or what. Her expression was too dazed to figure out.

So, far gone into panic mode, I made an even bigger fool of myself. I leaned forward, and pressed my lips onto hers. That lasted for all of three seconds before she snapped out of her stupor and pulled away.

EMBRY… ME LOVE YOU, MUCH, she signed, and for another three seconds my heart soared… BUT, ME CAN'T STAY… before she brought it crashing down.

WHY? I asked, desperately. Pathetically.

ME NEED SCHOOL, she replied. YOU KNOW.

ME NEED YOU, I responded, and her eyes widened even more. CELLIE, PLEASE. NOT GO. STAY HERE.

CAN'T -

YES! NOT NEED SCHOOL. NOT NEED GO, I argued. PEOPLE LOVE YOU HERE. ME. YOUR MOM. YOU NEED STAY.

She was biting her cheek so forcefully that I smelled blood.

I grabbed her hands, and pulled them to my chest. I kissed her again to make her stop. To make her stay. Something frantic behind it that I didn't know how to explain. I could not lose her. I could not lose this girl. She could not, would not leave me, too. If it were in my power, she would never…

She snatched her hands away, and I sensed anger. I looked up and I was right.

NO! ME NOT STAY! she signed, heatedly, her movements short and sharp and furious. ME GO. ME LEARN. ME WANT FUTURE. ME WANT MEET PEOPLE. KNOW SIGN PEOPLE, DEAF PEOPLE. HAVE SIGN FRIENDS. MEET DEAF WORLD. EVERYDAY SIGN.

WE, TWO-OF-US, SIGN EVERYDAY, I protested.

NO. YOU NOT UNDERSTAND. MY MOM, SHE NOT UNDERSTAND. NEVER UNDERSTAND.

We were attracting a lot of attention now, and I felt the familiar tiny twinge of embarrassment, but for once, I didn't care.

ME UNDERSTAND - I started, but she interrupted.

NO, NOT UNDERSTAND. YOU. NOT. DEAF.

Ice flooded my veins, and the shock made me lower my hands. She was glaring at me viciously, and after another moment or two, she balled her hands into fists, and sat back. She turned her head towards the window.

I knew what that meant. The conversation was over.

* * *

We arrived back in Port Angeles just in time for my phone to go crazy. Like literally, we had stepped off the bus and I was debating whether to spend another wad of money on a cab, or to just ask my mom to come get us, when my phone started ringing and vibrating.

"Hello?" I answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. Not many people had my number considering it was still pretty new.

"Embry? Hi!" It was Emily.

"Would you like to come over for dinner? You and Cellie? I don't know if you're back in La Push yet, but I would love to have you…"

"Sure," I said, immediately. "Sounds great." I wasn't ready to go home yet. I put Emily on hold and hesitantly relayed the message to a curious-looking-even-though-she-was-trying-very-hard-to-ignore-me Cellie.

After a moment or two of hesitation, she nodded her consent. Maybe she wasn't ready to go home just yet either.

I called a cab to Emily's house, deciding not to bother my mom. Our ride was 'silent,' and I started re-thinking the idea. The guys would be able to tell immediately that something was up with the two of us. I just hoped they would leave it alone, for once. They could attack me later when they jumped into my brain.

We arrived to hugs (from Emily and Rachel), glares (from Brady and Paul) for no visible reason I could discern, and questions (from everyone) about how the show went.

Cellie launched into it, and I just let her go, interpreting when necessary. I wasn't really up to talking for myself just yet, and like I assumed they would, they sensed it. Of course they did. Especially if the gazes that swept back and forth from me to Cellie were any indication.

Thankfully, like I had hoped, no one said anything. At first.

"That sounds so exciting!" Emily gushed, as Rachel interpreted for her. "I would have loved to see something like that… Hey, maybe we should take a road trip or something. Next summer. Well, not a trip, but maybe a weekend…?"

"Maybe," Sam grunted, and I knew he would. Anything for our imprints.

Except letting them follow their dreams, a nasty little voice in my head spoke up. I silenced it. Sam would understand. After all, Emily never went back to stay with her parents. And Rachel worked like mad to finish school in two years instead of four to be with Paul. And Kim? Kim never left, and I know she had plenty of college offers.

So really, the girls had chosen to stay here. But not without persuasion. What was so wrong about trying to convince Cellie to do the same thing? Why did I feel guilty every time I looked at -

A loud snort diverted my attention from my thoughts. I looked over from my spot next to Cellie on the couch to see Paul glaring at me. Everyone stopped talking and signing.

The thing was, though, Paul had been snorting the whole time, and everyone had just been ignoring him. Or attempting to. But this was a really loud one. And I was getting really sick of it.

"Is this what we're going to do? Really? We're just going to fucking sit here and act like there's nothing wrong, when clearly - " He started to say, and really I was more shocked that he was signing everything he was saying - and accurately - knowing instinctively that Cellie wouldn't want to be left out of any conversation.

But Quil interrupted him. "It's none of your business, Paul. Whatever happened is between them, so just shut up - "

"It's not like we're not going to fucking find out what happened anyway!" he roared, and miraculously, still signed. "And STOP TELLING ME TO SHUT UP!"

"Paul!" Rachel gasped. She spelled out his name halfheartedly, and I don't even think it was a conscious action. Kim did this thing where she fingerspelled constantly everything that was being said around her and didn't even notice she was doing it. Looked like Rachel had picked it up.

"PAUL," Sam said, alpha voice in full effect. We all cringed, and even the girls looked more than a little taken aback. I wondered, suddenly, if it worked on them, too, simply because they were linked to us through our imprinted bond.

I looked at Cellie. Her eyes were open wide and her mouth was hanging open. It would have been comical if her heart hadn't been going a mile a minute.

"Fuck this," Paul said in a low voice. Then he turned and slammed out of Emily's front door. Without hesitation, Rachel followed him. And Sam followed both of them.

"He's been having a bad day," Emily said, quietly. "His little sister is in the hospital. Broken arm. Miles away, and she's okay, but… well, you know Paul."

Sometimes I forgot that our family wasn't just this little tight-knit group. It was extended, in a way. Paul's sister lived in Delaware with their mom. He never talked about them, but he never had to. All of his worries, and anxieties, and fears were right there with us in his head at night, covered up with anger by his mouth during the day.

Cellie looked at me, eyes still big, and she raised her hands to sign something, but right then, her phone rang.

I looked over her shoulder as she accepted the video-call from her mom.

WHERE ARE YOU? Noelle asked and her signs were calm, but there was something in her face. Something tight, pinched, that let me know immediately that something was wrong. Cellie knew, too.

E-M-I-L-Y HOUSE. EMBRY FRIEND.

YOU NOT CALL-ME, WHY? she demanded, and Cellie had the grace to look apologetic. I wished everyone and their nosy stares would go away. I looked up and they immediately busied themselves.

SORRY, Cellie started to respond, but Noelle cut over her with signs. Simple, calm signs brimming with tension and underlying meaning.

COME HOME NOW, Noelle replied.

Cellie looked at me with a worried glance and I'm sure my face mirrored her own. We made our goodbyes to everyone quickly. She didn't need to ask me to come with her. I would have regardless.

Jared offered us a ride and we accepted. He drove us to Cellie's house, but didn't bother to offer waiting around. I didn't want him to hear this conversation, and he would have been able to. Easily. If parts of it were spoken aloud. He knew it, so he knew to leave.

Noelle wasn't waiting at the door, but it was unlocked. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were rushing to our doom.

We got to the kitchen and stopped. She was standing next to the phone, arms crossing and glaring.

We stood in the doorway, unwilling to go further. She beckoned us with a finger. We took three steps. It was very reminiscent of red light, green light. Except we didn't want to get to the end of the sidewalk, or whatever. Because there was a scary monster mom waiting to eat us.

She raised her pointer finger and played a message from the answering machine. And she interpreted for Cellie, while I got the privilege of being able to hear the voice itself.

"Hello, this message is for the parent or guardian of Cellie Donovan. My name is Michael McGreevy and I'm from the admissions office of the Washington School for the Deaf. Miss Donovan has been registered and enrolled in all of her classes successfully. Unfortunately, she does not qualify for the scholarship she applied for, and it has been denied. Therefore, payment for her classes must be worked out somehow. We do offer a very affordable payment plan, but unfortunately, the deadline for that has already passed. Due to the timing of this, I would normally suggest that Miss Donovan apply for classes in the Fall of next year instead. But she seems like a determined young woman, and because of that alone, I would be glad to try to work something out if she really decides she wants to start attending as early as this January. Please give me a call back. My number is 360-637-1738, personal extension is 6534. Again, my name is Michael McGreevy. Thank you. I look forward to hearing from you both."

Next to me Cellie had stopped breathing. I was afraid to move to look at her face. Her mother stared both of us down, furious. Anger apparent in every move she made. She crossed her arms. Then, she re-crossed them. Her heels clacked on the kitchen floor as she made deliberate movements towards a chair. She changed her mind mid-step, and turned back around.

She uncrossed her arms.

EXPLAIN, she signed.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I have no excuses. Other than procrastination. And that we're getting down to the turning point of it all, so it's time to start actually planning the rest of the story. And the fact that it's hard to write 20-page chapters. I don't know why I started that. Especially because this one is only 15 and a little bit more. It didn't need the extra five. (So yeah, I kind of have excuses).

Anyway, I'm willing to make a trade with you. I'll give you faster updates if you don't mind shorter chapters. I'm talking 10-page chapters, or more. Which are about the length of my Kim & Jared story chapters.

What do you say? Yay or nay?

Or I can just continue like this. I want to finish this. But it's going to take some compromising, I think.

You got me to 86 reviews, by the way. You're all so lovely.

- FadingSlowly