Coming Home Chapter 4

And here is a HUGE chapter for you! It's two sections, but they seemed too short to stand on their own, so I just put it all as one long chapter. I hope you enjoy. Nothing like a little confusion, angst, and sexual tension to spice up a story! hehe! Read, enjoy, review!

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Claire was confused by their reception as she and Quil rejoined the group in the Uley's yard. Emily's eyes were tearing up, and she was dabbing at them with a paper napkin. The pack members looked oddly relieved and kept coming up to Quil, hugging him and slapping him on the back, telling him how good it was to see him, as if he had been the one who had left. She could not help but worry about what had happened to him to cause his unhealthy appearance. Quil remained quiet though, responding only briefly when required.

He was still clutching her hand, as if she might run off again, but Claire did not mind in the slightest. She spotted Adam, standing off to the side by himself watching them, and squeezed Quil's hand, dragging him over to where her good friend stood.

Claire was so ecstatic that her two favorite people in the world were finally meeting that she was oblivious to Quil's eyes and mouth tightening and his hand slipping out of hers.

"Quil, I want you to meet Adam. Adam, this is Quil!" She introduced the two of them, her eyes bright with excitement and blind to the sudden tension among the three of them. Quil nodded shortly and shook Adam's hand.

Adam gave Claire a slightly exasperated look, as he shook Quil's hand.

"It's great to finally meet you, Quil. Claire's told me so much about you." Claire thought that was rather generous, considering that she had purposely not talked about Quil for years, trying to distance herself from those memories, but she said nothing.

"Yeah, she mentioned you in her letters." Quil was polite, but there was something dark in his voice that made Claire frown up at him. She gazed back and forth between the two of them and could not for the life of her understand the glimmer of animosity that was suddenly present.

The heavy silence that followed was interrupted when Emily arrived to drag Claire over to meet Seth's new wife and daughter, shooting a strange warning glare at Quil as she latched onto Claire's arm. Claire pursed her lips and looked back and forth between her apparently crazy aunt and the now unpredictable Quil.

With a shrug, Claire followed and spent the next few hours with the sneaking suspicion that the pack members were trying to keep her distracted. She had vainly tried to catch another glimpse of Quil, but he must have left. She felt a pang of hurt at his disappearance, which evolved into a whirling black hole of guilt, sadness, and worry in her stomach.

He had seemed so happy to see her at first, but now she wondered if their reunion had been less earth moving than she had thought it was. Perhaps Quil hated her for leaving, abandoning him and all their friends. Maybe he had remembered her differently and didn't like the changes. Maybe seeing her again was a disappointment. Possibly he was so busy with his own family now that he did not want to see her at all, but had appeared briefly out of some sense of obligation. The thoughts swarmed through her tired head, trying to make sense of Quil's strange and bewildering actions.

Finally, Claire stood up from the picnic table where Jared's wife Kim was bemoaning living in a house with a werewolf and four teenagers.

"I'm exhausted." Claire declared, more frustrated with her lack of understanding on the Quil front than actually tired. "I'm going to find Adam so we can get going."

She paused for a moment, wondering where they were going to stay tonight. She was just wondering if her parents' house was still a viable option when Kim chimed in.

"Oh, you're headed back to your house then? Go on home. Emily and Rose went over about an hour ago to get it aired out for you. They're probably still there." Kim made shooing motions with her hands.

Claire happily entertained the idea that her house was not rotting from the inside out as she said her goodbyes to the women at the table. She waved to the pack, most of whom were still crowded around the grill where Sam was flipping what had to have been the 400th hot dog. Adam was being interrogated by a group of teenagers, all but one of them belonging to either Sam and Emily or Jared and Kim, about life in New York City. She felt a little guilty about leaving him to deal with her crazy friends, but he seemed well enough at ease.

Adam remained silent on the short drive over to Claire's old house, but she was too distracted with her own convoluted thoughts to notice. There was a blue car parked out front, which Claire figured probably belonged to Emily.

"Emily?" She called, opening up the front door tentatively. She had not stepped foot in her old house in years and stopped in the foyer, shocked at its appearance.

Nothing had changed drastically, but it looked newer and different. The flooring was the same shade and pattern it had always been, but it was obviously new. The walls were freshly painted, the old chipped spots and stains now gone.

Stepping further in, she gaped at the newly furnished living room, the carpeting back to its original vibrant shade of blue instead of the sun faded color it had been four years ago. Along the wall was an absolutely enormous bookcase with all of her hundreds of language texts catalogued on its beautiful oak shelves.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Emily appeared in the living room, her sixteen year old daughter Rose trailing behind her, apparently still as painfully shy as ever.

"Where did all this come from?" Claire asked, still gazing around in amazement.

"Quil, of course. He went through a remodeling phase—bought the Clearwaters' old place and completely redid it! After that, I guess he was looking for another project, because he spent all his time here. I think he was trying to make it look like it did… before. You know." Emily trailed off, apparently not wanting to mention Claire's mother.

"It's beautiful. It's just like when I was little, only better. And this bookcase is incredible! Did he build this?" She was running her fingers over the smooth, polished surface of the bookshelves, amazed at how intricate they were.

"Yes—took him months to get it just right. You know how he gets when he has a project."

"Wow, I don't even know what to say. I was so worried that I had let this place fall into complete disrepair, and here he was fixing everything while I was away. He didn't have to do that." Claire's voice was tight as she carefully examined the spines of her old books, not wanting to look at the others in case she started crying.

"Of course he didn't have to. But he's Quil." Emily's voice held a note of disapproval, but Claire couldn't tell if it was directed at her or at Quil. Emily sighed and continued. "I opened up the windows to let some air in. And I put clean sheets on the beds," she paused a bit at that and glanced calculatingly between Claire and Adam, "oh, and Rose dusted a bit. Quil's a dear, but no good with dusting. Now there's nothing much for food here, but I put a casserole in the fridge for you. Oh, and a carton of milk."

Claire could not help but smile at Emily's generous welcome. "Thank you, Emily. This was way too much—you shouldn't have done all this. Thank you." Emily just smiled and waved the protest aside.

"Now, we better head back. No telling what those men will try to grill next if the hot dogs run out." Emily rolled her eyes in an affectionate way, kissed Claire on the cheek, nodded to Adam, and dragged her still silent daughter out the door.

Adam tried to start a conversation about Quil and the other occupants of La Push, but Claire claimed exhaustion, and he let it slide. She checked the guest room and found the bed made up with fresh sheets, so she helped Adam settle into the room. She double checked to see if there were towels that had been washed in the last five years and discovered that her aunt was a veritable saint.

Once she was satisfied that Adam was comfortably settled, she opened the door to her childhood room, wondering if Quil had altered anything in there. It appeared unchanged, the posters still hanging on the walls and her old pictures still sitting on her desk.

She fingered a snapshot of her and Quil, taken at her high school graduation party. They both looked so young and vibrant, faces glowing as they grinned cheekily at the camera. Quil's face was full and healthy, with no trace of the gauntness, hollowed cheeks, or dark circles that she'd witnessed today. Her own face looked fuller, more childlike, and it struck her how very much she had changed, how different she was from her eighteen year old self.

A wave of nostalgia rushed over her, as she remembered all her years spent in this room. She recalled her mother coming in here and chatting with her, trying to get her to talk about boys and laughing when Claire would blush and mumble. That had been before she had gotten so sick and could no longer manage the stairs.

She remembered the time in junior high when she had come down with a nasty case of the flu, and Quil, who was immune to most diseases because of his scorching temperature, had sat with her for hours, holding out the trash can for her to throw up into and wiping her face with a cool rag. She had been so embarrassed, but he had just shushed her and rocked her to sleep like he had when she was a little girl.

She had twenty years of memories in this room, and she found it simultaneously unsettling and soothing to be back here. The long day of travel and reunions had been tiring, and Claire soon found herself climbing into her childhood bed, made up with fresh sheets that smelled faintly like Emily's house, and slipping into a deep, comforting dream world.

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Bright rays of sunshine penetrated her eyelids, and Claire groaned as she slowly came back to consciousness. As usual, it took her a minute to figure out where she was, and she shot out of bed when she remembered that she was back home in La Push.

Once up though, she remembered that she did not know what she was even doing here. Visions of disastrous encounters with Quil made her wince, and she grumpily wrenched open her dresser drawer to see if she still had clothes here. Pulling an old sweatshirt over the camisole she had slept in, she wandered downstairs in search of her morning coffee.

It did not occur to her until she had almost reached the kitchen that no one in her family had ever drunk coffee, so her quest was doomed to failure. She pouted a little as she entered the kitchen, and then stared around in shock.

The faded, peeling linoleum had been replaced with shining yellow tile, and the old refrigerator had been replaced. But what she could not stop staring at was the new cabinet. The wooden door of the cabinet just to the right of the sink had been replaced with a glass fronted door, behind which she saw her mother's entire shot glass collection.

Mrs. James had collected shot glasses for the majority of her life, but they had mainly stayed in a box until her later years. During her long battle with cancer, she had rediscovered her collection and washed up the entire lot. She thought it hysterical to throw back her medications from a shot glass. She would measure out the necessary amount and pour it into one of her dozens of shot glasses. Then she would give a mocking "cheers!" before tossing back the drugs. She was adamant that everything tasted better from a shot glass, and this way she could pretend it was tequila.

Claire had thought she was insane when she first came up with the plan, but Quil had thought it was brilliant. He used to bring over bottles of juice on the days he would stay with Mrs. James, and he would take shots with her whenever she took her meds. It had become rather endearing. They would do anything to make her mother laugh during those days.

Now all those shot glasses were washed and polished, displayed in all their glory behind the glass door. Tears filled Claire's eyes, and she sunk onto a chair at the kitchen table, resting her head in her hands.

A thump and muffled curse jerked her out of her reverie, and she looked up as the door to the kitchen flew open. Quil wandered in, balancing a huge box with one arm and rubbing his forehead with the other.

"Oh, hey, you're up. Sorry—hit my head on that damn gutter again. I should really raise those up a few inches so I don't keep doing that." He muttered.

She just stared at him, wondering if she was still dreaming or if the real Quil, who had hugged her fiercely as he welcomed her home before blowing her off and leaving without saying goodbye, had really just appeared in her kitchen.

"I thought you'd still be asleep actually. You never were much of a morning person." He seemed to sense the awkwardness and his words seemed a little stilted.

Claire smiled very faintly. "Yeah, well, it's almost noon in New York. Plus I forgot how bright my room gets. Stupid east facing windows." Her voice trailed off with tell tale grumpiness, and Quil laughed lightly.

"Brought you a present!" He teased, quirking his eyebrows up and down. The very under-caffeinated Claire grunted noncommittally, which Quil took as license to continue.

He tossed something at her head, which she caught reflexively, while he pulled out a small black appliance. She gasped and looked down at the most beautiful gift she could imagine.

"You brought me coffee! Oh my gosh, I love you. How did you know?" She realized she was babbling and quickly shut her mouth.

Quil smirked as he deftly grabbed the bag of coffee out of her hands and set up the machine.

"I could smell it on you yesterday. You have to drink a lot of it, for it to be that strongly mixed in with your scent. I thought you might appreciate having some, since I know there isn't any in the house, and God knows La Push doesn't have a Starbucks." The look he gave her at that made Claire laugh.

"You are 100% right. I'm a complete addict. Thank you so much. Seriously. You have no idea. I am worthless without coffee. I can't function! I can barely form complete sentences—listen to me here! Ugh!"

Quil just laughed and said nothing, but five minutes later he was shoving a mug full of steaming coffee under her nose. She groaned appreciatively and raised the cup to her lips, shaking her head when he asked about cream or sugar.

"No, no, black is perfect. Wow, this is actually pretty good. I would have been satisfied with a grainy cup of badly brewed swill, so long as it had caffeine. Are you a closet barista?" The influx of caffeine made her almost giddy, and she smiled widely at Quil as she downed the entire mug in less than two minutes. Giving him a cheeky wink, she held it out for a refill.

Laughing at her sudden good mood, Quil topped off the cup, and handed it back to her as he sat down at the table next to her.

Contentedly sipping her coffee, Claire found herself nostalgic for the days when it had always been this easy with Quil. She wondered what exactly had changed and whether it was her fault.

Quil appeared slightly less haggard today. His face was still gaunt, though she supposed that was not something that changed overnight. The dark circles, however, appeared marginally lighter, and his dark eyes were back to their normal intensity and luster. The familiar grin was back on his face, and it looked much more natural than it had the night before.

"You look better today." She commented. He shrugged. "Where did you run off to last night? I didn't even get a chance to say good night." He shrugged again, and she rolled her eyes at his lack of response.

"All right then. I'll forgive you, because you brought me coffee. You should know I'm not always this easily swayed though." She warned, eliciting a warm laugh from Quil.

"Oh, believe me, I know!" Quil shot back, still chuckling. "I'll be good, I promise." He gave her a super serious puppy dog expression and solemnly crossed his heart with his index finger.

She laughed again, thinking vaguely that she had laughed more this morning already than she had in years. "So I hear that you're to thank for making my house look like it belongs in a magazine. It's incredible, Quil. You really didn't have to do that—but thank you."

He shrugged off the praise. "It was no big deal. I was looking for a project and thought this would be perfect. I spent so much time over the years that it feels almost as much like home as my own house. I wanted something to do, and I didn't want this place to fall into pieces…" He looked uncomfortable for a moment and fiddled with the edge of the table.

"I didn't know if you were coming back, but I thought if you ever did, you wouldn't want this place to be rotting away. You know, memories or whatever." He didn't look up at her but continued to play with the table.

"Well, you were right. I did come back. And I wouldn't have wanted this place to have rotted away, though I didn't really think about it until I got back yesterday. I'm glad you did." She spoke softly and caressed the rim of her coffee cup with her thumb, conscious of Quil's proximity in an almost visceral way that she never had been before.

"I missed you." He said quietly, still not looking at her. An aching pang clutched at her chest as she looked up at him.

"I missed you too, Quil." She whispered. Their eyes met and the connection between them was almost tangible. Claire felt her face flush and was physically aware of the blood pulsing hotly through her veins. A warm ache began low in her belly and twisted slowly inside her.

Like before, all concept of time vanished as they gazed into each others eyes. Claire felt an overwhelming wave of surety that this was exactly where she belonged. Nothing anywhere in the world could compare to the sense of wonder and perfect contentment that she felt just sitting here with Quil. All traces of yearning and loneliness were banished, simply by looking into his hypnotizingly deep eyes.

Neither could break away from the heated gaze, and Claire felt dizzy as his dark eyes burned into hers. He leaned almost imperceptibly closer and she unconsciously followed, the distance diminishing so slowly that she was barely aware of the change.

Her heart was pounding, and she could feel its steady throbbing in her eyes and ears. His eyes were blazing into hers, telling her everything she had dreamed of hearing. She couldn't breathe.

A loud curse made them both jump, their connection rent apart. Claire closed her eyes at the sudden loss, and tried to regulate her breathing.

Adam stumbled into the kitchen, wearing only a pair of blue boxer shorts, oblivious to the effect his entrance had on the kitchen's occupants. He scrunched his face up as the morning sunlight hit him and gave a pitiful moan that Claire recognized from years of experience as a desperate need for coffee.

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she stood up from the table, winded by a feeling of physical loss as she crossed the kitchen. She grabbed another mug and filled it with what was left of the pot of coffee Quil had brewed. She shoved the cup into Adam's hands and pushed him into a chair, automatically adjusting the cup in his hands to prevent it from spilling as he dropped heavily into the seat.

When she glanced up again, Quil was scowling, which caused her to frown. He stood abruptly, not meeting her eyes.

"I gotta run. Work and stuff." He muttered, running his hand through his short black hair.

"Oh, okay." She answered, utterly bewildered by his behavior. "Will I see you later?"

He finally looked up at that and sighed. "Yeah, Emily's making lasagna tonight. Come, yeah?" He looked at her with an odd expression on his face, something akin to resignation, like he expected her to say no.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she tried to decipher his conflicting signals. "Yeah, of course. We'll be there."

Quil snorted quietly at that and looked up at the ceiling, but when he looked back at her his face was clear. "I'll see you tonight. Bye, Claire." He paused, letting his voice roll over her name, then turned sharply and left.

Claire sank into the chair previously occupied by Quil, shaking her head, utterly mystified by what had just happened.

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So, what's the verdict? Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. Thoughts, comments, suggestions? Thanks so much to all of you who have reviewed! You make me giddy with glee! More to come soon!