Author's Note: I know you guys are used to daily (or at least every couple of days) updates, so I'm sorry this one took so long. Between buying a car and gearing up for a really intense second semester at school which starts in two days, I've been a bit busy this past week! But I will try my hardest to keep updating this story more frequently. Hope you like this chapter. :)
I had taken in a lot, and the images of all the ugly truths he'd shown me were still swirling around in my head. But I could feel his hesitation, and I knew there was something else he wanted to show me, something that was more terrible than everything I'd already seen. I could feel his deep sadness as the images started up again, mixed with shame, and also a raw ache that told me this next memory would be harder to convey than to witness. So I steeled myself, and let him go on.
He moved us forward in time, skirting over much of his courtship of Emily, and skipping the details of how he had come to my house when I wasn't there, bringing her gifts, leaving her flowers, promising her a lifetime of happiness if only she would give him one chance. I did see fleeting glimpses of these moments as he hurried through those weeks, though, and I saw how hard Emily had resisted. I saw, briefly, our breakup, but he avoided it so insistently that it was only a passing impression of heartache and guilt. I also saw what he was doing when he wasn't obsessing over Emily, and I watched as other boys in the community changed, and Sam helped each of them to understand what was happening to them as no one had done for him. I saw the bonds growing between Sam and those boys as though they were tangible, something I could actually see.
Finally, he slowed the images down again. I recognized his house, and felt his nerves as he paced the floor of his bedroom quickly, back and forth, waiting. The doorbell rang and he couldn't run fast enough to answer it. Emily stood there, which surprised me, and he let her in eagerly. I couldn't work out when this might be, aside from the fact that it was evening.
I felt Sam's excitement, but it immediately turned to disappointment as she turned to him and said, "Sam, you have to stop coming over and calling me. I love Leah… and she loves you. The Sam she always told me about would never have treated her this way. I'm not going to be the other woman in this and I'm not going to break my cousin's heart."
"I know," he'd whispered, and I felt the shame wash through him. "I know. I wish… I could explain. To Leah and to you."
"Well you don't have to," Emily told him. "I'm going back home next week. So you'd better just forget about me, Sam."
I felt the panic rise in him. I had never felt fear so intensely in my life. I felt like she was going to die, like he believed that he would die if she left this room now. But she was already heading for the door. I watched as Sam quickly intercepted her, trying to take her hand, pleading with her not to go. He blurted out that he loved her and her mouth dropped open. They barely knew each other then.
"Sam Uley," she said, shaking her head. "You're disgusting."
"Please," he begged, so unlike my Sam. "Please don't go." It was hard for me to watch this, feel his desperation, and understand, truly, how much this imprinting had changed almost everything about him.
"I'm going," she said, and I detected, for the first time, just a tiny bit of fear creep into her voice.
"Then I'll come with you," he said quickly.
"What?" She stared at him. "No way!"
"Don't you like me? Isn't there… isn't there any way you could like me?" I thought he was going to cry; I could feel the tears welling up in his throat, threatening to choke him as Emily just stared at him in building horror. Slowly, tentatively, not knowing how he could handle another moment of rejection from this perfect being, yet unable to resist her, Sam reached out a hand. He didn't quite touch her, but I could feel how desperately he wanted to. He felt like he might die if he didn't touch her, if she walked away right now.
My cousin has always been kind. She was probably as confused as anyone about this situation. I could only imagine what she was thinking- that he was crazy, some kind of psychopath, a stalker that her cousin was lucky to have escaped. But even still, I could see that she didn't want to hurt him. I watched her shake her head slowly as she said gently, "No, Sam… not in this lifetime. Maybe if things had been different… but not like this. Never."
Suddenly, I felt the tears change in Sam's chest. I felt the anger build, and like a match to gasoline his grief ignited into rage. His body didn't even have time to ripple or shake as his form shifted to that of a wolf in a single moment of blinding fury. His hand was still extended towards her when it happened. I saw those razor-sharp claws rake her face, catching in the skin near her hairline and ripping downward as his arm lengthened into a massive paw. Before he even had time to realize what had happened she was falling to the floor, unconscious, the right side of her face a bloody, ragged mess. Her eye bulged from the side of her socket and the blood was already thick on the carpet beneath her head, her cheek torn and ragged, the right side of her mouth pulled open gruesomely.
Oh God, I heard one of those familiar voices, panicked, and for a second I was confused, thinking they were interrupting us here and now, but then I realized the voices were in Sam's head, in the past, in this moment.
We're coming, a second voice appeared. Through Sam's eyes, I looked down at the broken body of my cousin, and even though I knew for a fact that she had lived through this, with Sam's eyes I believed her to be dead, and I believed myself to be a murderer. And what was more, I felt what it was like to have killed the most important person in my life, because that was what Emily had become for Sam, as much as it hurt me to see. The last thing I experienced was running into the forest before he moved on from this memory, trying to skirt past the agony of relieving those moments. I got the impression he was out in the woods for a very long time.
They told me she was mauled by a bear, I thought, when he had finally calmed down from his own memories. I remembered my own grief then, my sympathy for Emily's condition, but this was so much worse than what I ever could have imagined. Permanently scarred, and not by a bear at all, but by Sam, who before all this could have never hurt a fly. Suddenly I thought of Seth, and I felt sick- what if he had come to my room a few moments earlier? Would I have done the same thing? It surely would have killed him, a blow like that to his small frame. It was amazing that it didn't kill Emily.
Sam heard my thoughts and answered, No. It wouldn't have killed him. He could feel my skepticism and so, gently, he showed me something else.
Through Sam's eyes I saw myself, sleeping in bed, in the depths of my fever, and I realized that this was only yesterday, or maybe two days ago. I saw him turn away from my room and walk out of the house, out into the woods, where a small, sandy-coloured wolf waited patiently on its haunches. Something about this wolf seemed familiar, and I couldn't help but smile internally at its sweet face and warm eyes… familiar eyes.
Oh God… no! I thought suddenly, panic gripping my heart.
Yes, Sam answered me gently.
My own horror overwhelmed me as I realized who I was looking at, and sure enough, a moment later the small wolf changed back into the body of the boy I know and love so well. I watched as he grinned at Sam, but I felt none of the excitement about this as I knew Seth did. This was horrible.
I knew he was going to change when the fever set in, Sam explained, his thoughts gentle and soft against mine. But your father was adamant that your fever was something else. He seemed to hesitate before continuing, It's never happened to a girl. Not in hundreds of years.
That same thought came back to me again, What's wrong with me, then?
Nothing, Sam answered. Maybe I was imagining it, but he didn't seem to completely believe his own words. But for now, I let it go. This was too much. I was completely overwhelmed.
Sam… I can't stay in my room for a week, I told him. I no longer believed I was insane, but staying in this small bedroom for that long might easily drive me there. And I worried about Seth, if he needed me.
You won't, he promised. I'll help you.
This doesn't make us friends again, I warned him.
I thought I could feel his sigh as he said again, I know.
A long silence passed between us, not exactly comfortable or uncomfortable, before I had to ask, tentatively, Is he okay?
I was sent a barrage of images then- Sam watching over Seth when he was still so sick with fever, taking him out into the woods when the fever broke, Seth raging against Sam and Paul as they tried to prepare him for what was going to happen and then, finally, watching as my little brother's fever broke and he made that first terrifying transformation. I witnessed the tenderness with which Sam explained things to my brother, and I felt, for the first time, Seth's mind, the purity and youth of it, the sweet presence of his thoughts. I could see and feel that my brother was happy, proud of becoming this, a warrior and a protector, and that he was not afraid. Despite my own fears about this, I was glad.
There's more, Sam told me. But I think you've had enough tonight.
This time, I trusted his judgment, and I didn't push further or try to discover the rest of his secrets. I was exhausted, and laid down right there on the floor, barely able to keep my eyes open. I don't know how long it had taken Sam to show me all that he had, but it felt like I hadn't slept in days. I was still starving, but my need for sleep overwhelmed all else, and as I watched Sam settle down just outside my bedroom door, my eyes fluttered closed and I let sleep pull me down into a place without dreams.
I slept the sleep of the dead, certainly for hours, possibly for days. When I awoke, I found myself alone in my bed, tucked into the blankets. I was so comfortable and my brain was so foggy that it took me a long time to remember what had happened. Quickly I shot up in bed, and that's when I realized I was human again, naked; I could see through the window that it was probably the middle of the day, but my house was quiet.
I wrapped myself in my sheet and tiptoed to my bedroom door, listening. Nothing. I had this crazy idea that it had all been a dream, and for a few moments I was almost sure of it. But when I fell over Sam on my way to the kitchen, who was sprawled out in the hallway, still in wolf form, I knew with dismay that everything I remembered was true. He sprung up onto his feet and shifted into human form before my eyes- it only took a split-second, but it was still incredible. I could hardly believe he was capable of that, that I was, and trying to imagine what the biological processes behind it might be made my head hurt. I kept my eyes on his face to spare him embarrassment for his nudity and gave him a small smile. It actually seemed strange to be looking at him without hearing his thoughts, and I realized how much deeper our level of communication had been in wolf form. When he looked at me he seemed almost like a cardboard cutout now: flat.
"How are you feeling?" he asked me. The warmth and depth of his voice was so familiar, and I'd heard it so rarely in the past few months, that it took away some of that flat feeling right away.
"How long was I sleeping?"
"Almost two days," he answered. "You must have been pretty relaxed- enough to shift back this morning. I put you in bed."
"You've been here this whole time?" I asked suspiciously.
"No. I've been back and forth."
"Where are my parents?"
Sam didn't answer me. Instead he asked gently, "Do you still have any of my stuff? I think this is a conversation that calls for clothing."
I grew fearful, but I tried to focus on preparing myself for whatever was coming. I turned back into my bedroom and searched through my drawers, finding a pair of his boxers and an old shirt, soft with age. I had worn these clothes several times in the weeks after our breakup, but I had washed them since, and I certainly wouldn't have admitted that to him. I handed them to him and turned my back as he dressed, searching through the drawers for something of my own.
I knew I was going to hear something I didn't like; from Sam's reaction to my question, I suspected that my parents knew about what had happened to Seth and I and were upset or angry about it. Maybe they had left town to cool off. That would explain my parents' absence all through Sam's explanations and my coma-like sleeping.
Once we were both dressed, I followed Sam through my kitchen and into the living room, where he sat us down on the couch, sitting a little too close for my comfort. He surprised me by taking my hand in his.
"What's happened?" I asked, my heart going cold. This was something worse than I'd imagined… what was it?
He hesitated. "Leah… I don't know how to tell you this," he said softly.
"Then just tell me," I answered quickly. "The anticipation is bad enough… please."
"Harry had a heart attack," he said bluntly, following my wishes. "Your mother's been at the hospital since just after you changed. But Leah… your father died last night."
For a long moment I had no idea what to do. Slowly I sank back into the soft cushions of the couch but otherwise I was motionless. I was amazed that my overwhelming feeling wasn't of shock, anger, or even grief, but a deep confusion, disbelief even. I almost didn't believe Sam's words. I couldn't imagine that they could be true, that the world now existed without him. I couldn't imagine what that looked like: my father, the strongest man I ever knew, felled to something my mother always teased him about, a weak heart brought on by poor food choices and bad cholesterol. But what if that wasn't why at all? What if there was another reason?
"I'm so sorry, Leah," Sam told me softly.
"How?" I asked, and my voice sounded hollow even to my ears.
"He collapsed."
"When?"
"Two days ago," he answered, and I caught the hesitation in his voice. Was that what it was, then? Had my father seen his daughter as something he had so much trouble accepting that the shock had taken his life? Was I the cause of this? What had he really been afraid of when he'd looked at me in the throes of fever? What thoughts had gone through his mind when he saw me forever changed? I would never know. I could never ask him those questions now.
"Seth," I said. It seemed I could only manage single-syllables now, but just whispering my brother's name broke my heart. I couldn't decide which was worse: that he knew, and I hadn't been there to receive that news with him, or that he didn't, and I would have to see his face as he learned that the man he idolized and adored had left him forever. As if he hadn't lost enough this week. As if it was fair that things could get worse for him. I wanted to rage against whatever force had made us like this, and stolen so much from our lives.
"He's on his way back here now," Sam answered me. "I had him at the Black's, but I sent Jake a text to send him back while you were getting dressed."
"Where's my mother?" I asked, stringing a number of words together for the first time since I'd learned of my father's death.
"She's at Jake's as well," he answered, and I was glad for that. My mother and Billy were friends, and she would need support in a time like this, support that Seth and I couldn't give her. But it did answer my unspoken question: Seth knew. "She's going to stay there for now," Sam continued. Again I saw him hesitate. "Leah… you can't tell her."
I nodded numbly. After everything, this seemed like a small request, and it didn't surprise me that he asked it. Besides, how could I tell her? What words were there to explain something like this? And how much would it hurt her? Would it shock her into death, too? I knew it was childish to think that way, but I still couldn't stop the thought from popping into my mind.
Sam was still holding my hand. I only noticed because he gave it a squeeze, and for a long moment I stared at our hands together, hardly believing that they could still be real. Outside, life was proceeding normally- I could hear birds chirping, clouds were moving across the sky, and everything was still exactly the same as it had been before. It was crazy to think that the world should change because one man was dead, and yet the fact that it didn't still managed to surprise me.
I pulled my hand back from Sam's, and I looked him in the eyes for the first time in what seemed like hours.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked me gently, those eyes full of sympathy and warmth. I wanted him to hold me, to gather me in his arms like a child and hug me close to his body so I could cry and grieve in a safe place. But I knew I couldn't have that; it wasn't something he could give me, and it wasn't something I had a right to expect.
"I need time to absorb all of this," I told him, one word tumbling from my mouth after the other with great difficulty. "Seth is going to be here soon?"
"Should be any minute," he promised. "We run fast in wolf form."
"I know," I answered, remembering Sam's memories of running through the woods with such speed it seemed like he was blurring. "You should go."
"Leah-" He started, but if I let him protest, then I'd let him stay. I put my fingers on his lips, just to physically stop him from saying anything more, and he fell silent. My Sam would have kissed my fingertips; this one stared at me with the most platonic loving worry imaginable. But for once it didn't hurt me, and it didn't make me angry.
"Please," I said. "I want you to go. This is a family moment… I need to be here for Seth when he gets home."
Finally he nodded before standing up, and then he hesitated for a brief second before he reached out and brushed my hair back from my face. I welcomed the gesture; despite the lack of romance in the way we interacted now, I did feel that a huge change had happened between us. I had seen into his mind, and he into mine. Things could never be as they once were, but we were now sharing a newfound intimacy, one whose gravity was still catching up to me. But I didn't have time to focus on that now. I had just enough energy for the one thing that mattered- Seth. I couldn't have Sam lingering here, distracting me from my little brother's needs. And I knew how much he would need me.
Sam was gone less than a minute before the front door opened and I heard the rush of footsteps in my direction. I barely had a chance to turn my head before he had barreled into me, throwing himself into my arms. I wrapped them around him, surprised that he wore nothing more than a pair of cut-off jeans, not even shoes. We held each other for a long time before I found his face and looked at him. I could see the loss in his eyes, and it mirrored my own. I couldn't stop my tears then, even though I wanted to be strong for him, but his eyes spilled over almost in unison with mine and we clung to each other again, each of us holding the other equally.
I feel pity for any child raised alone, because I know that there is a bond between siblings that those children will never understand. No matter how much you hate each other at times, or fight and squabble with one another, a sibling is like a secret, or a promise, that you will never walk the path of your childhood alone. It's a guarantee that your formative years were concurrently spent forming someone else, and that through that uniquely shared history you will truly understand your sibling as you could never understand anyone else.
Even the most different of brothers and sisters share an ineffable bond of being raised in the same place, with the same parents, witnessing each other's crimes and passions from a unique position of equality that no other might inhabit. In the end, your sibling is the only one who truly knows where you came from, and in the end, when you have grown old enough to have become a natural orphan, your sibling is the only one who, like a fellow veteran, walked beside you through the battles and victories of your life.
In that moment, as I held my little brother in my arms and we cried into each other's shoulders, the value of our kinship seemed so profound. I cherished him so much in that moment, because of this knowledge: I was not the only one who had suffered this exact loss. Though my mother and my father's friends and our extended family would share my grief, Seth was the only one who could walk beside me in the loss of Harry Clearwater, our father.