It has been said that all roads lead to Rome. It has also been said that all roads will lead you home. After a certain point, the traveler will always return to home. The dreamer will one day awake. The wanderer grows weary of wandering. A secret piece of the human soul will always yearn for its childhood home, a place of memories and experiences, good and bad.

Jacob didn't know why he was returning, nor was he looking forward to it. He just couldn't resist that gravitational pull, that instinctual need to return. He knew that he couldn't return in wolf form, because he didn't want his pack brothers to know of his return. He couldn't bear to see their faces, twisted with pity, and perhaps revulsion of his wretched state. He couldn't bear to hear their thoughts, happiness that he was back safely, but mixed with pity which he loathed so much, and dubious thoughts regarding his own sanity. Oh, Jacob Black was quite sane. He was sure of it. But his brothers would never, could never understand the intensity of his pain.

Scowling, he continued to trudge his way through forest on two feet, wearing nothing, but still comfortably warm. As he walked, he tried to figure out what he would do when he got there. As he knew he could not stay in La Push, for fear of running into his pack, he pondered about staying at Charlie's. He assumed that the news of Bella's death would be quite old by now, and that the Cullens had quite likely moved on, especially if his brothers had any say in the matter. If Edward, or any of the Cullens bit Bella, than the pact would be broken, and they would have to leave. So Jacob could stay at Charlie's, and although Charlie was bound to call Billy the very moment that Jacob set foot on the doorstep, He could at least trust his father to be discreet and not tell the entire reservation of his homecoming! He plodded along, following his inner compass, which would always lead him home.

About a week later at a quarter until midnight a tall, slender figure tread up the path leading to the home of Charlie Swan. He was weary, he was starving, and he was clothed only in a pair of tattered shorts that he had procured from who knows where, but he was alive, and he was in Forks. He reached the door and knocked, somewhat timidly. He could hear the TV in the background, so he didn't think he'd be waking anyone up.

"Who is it?" came a gruff, familiar voice. Jacob froze. How the heck was he supposed to do this? He took a deep breath, dug deep into his very being, and pulled out the last ounces of charisma and charm that he had once possessed in such bountiful amounts.

"Uh, hey Charlie, it's me. Jacob." The door swung open. Charlie took one look at the son of his best friend, who was in turn the best friend of his own daughter. Jacob was filthy, emaciated, and obviously in a great deal of emotional pain, but he was alive, and that would do for now.

"Come in, son" Charlie said quietly, both concern and relief apparent in his voice, "Can I get anything for you?" Jacob had been expecting a much different response, and his expression betrayed his confusion because Charlie spoke again, and this time it became a monologue.

"There will be plenty of time for questions later, and you can be sure you'll be drowning in them. But right now you look like you need something to eat, and a good night's sleep. I'm afraid I don't have much in the kitchen, but I'm sure you can find something to fix up. Good Lord, boy, what happened to all of your clothing? Look, the bathroom is over there, second door on the right. Go clean yourself up, take a nice warm shower, and you can borrow some of my clothing for now, though it looks like they might be a bit on the small side. Will you ever quit growing, Jake? And anyways, once you've eaten and showered and changed, then you can sleep in Bella's room. Don't go sneaking away though, you hear? We've all been so worried, we didn't know where you were…well you're back now…so just…go clean up. Make yourself comfortable," He finished awkwardly, not so sure what to say to the boy he hadn't seen in two years. The boy with a haunted, hollow look in his eyes.

"Thank you Charlie…Thank you." And as Jacob Black hurried off to go eat and shower, Charlie hurried over to the phone. He had an important call to make to his friend Billy.

Safe in the confines of the shower, after eating four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Jacob let the hot water beat down upon his sore muscles, cleaning away the grime, and easing much of the tension. He was fairly certain that Charlie was calling Billy, informing him of the whereabouts of his only son, but he was also certain that he needn't face any questioning until the next day. Getting out of the shower, and changing into some of Charlie's pajamas (the hem reached mid-calf on him), Jacob prepared himself to enter the bedroom. Her bedroom. Bella's room.

He padded softly down the hall, informed Charlie (who jumped guiltily, hiding the phone behind his back) that he was going to bed, and then headed toward her room. Opening the door softly, he was welcomed by a whiff of her scent; the room had not changed at all. It even still smelled like her. Jacob's senses were attacked. Memories arose out of scents and sights, and Jacob nearly collapsed from the weight of them.

Climbing through the window, determined to win her forgiveness, and to regain her trust. Her small hand in his. Hugging her right off the floor, so her toes barely brushed the floor and she could only mutter her weak protests into him. Promises made, broken, and renewed. Bella sitting up in bed, confused and bleary-eyed, but always beautiful. Beautiful? She had called him that once. Sort of beautiful…

Shaking away the pain and the memories, Jacob reminded himself that she was gone. She was dead, or worse. Even if he saw her now, his instincts would tell him to hate her, to loathe everything about her, to be disgusted by her very scent. He couldn't handle that. He wanted to keep his memories loving. He wanted to keep the hand holding and the warm sodas. The motorcycles and the truck rides. He wanted to remember arguing with her over who was older, counting life skills into the mix. He couldn't bear to think that his own instincts could ever tell him to hate her, or what she had become. He hoped she was far away from here. Far, far away.

Curling up onto the bed, her bed, Jacob tried to relax into the pillows. He was surrounded in her scent, It was so comforting, and painful at the same time. His senses were playing tricks with his mind and heart. He fell into a fitful sleep, not knowing whether to be comforted or destroyed.

Jacob had been too lost in thoughts to notice that Charlie made a second phone call. He hadn't heard Charlie hang up the phone a second time after saying "I love you too sweetie, we'll see you tomorrow." If he had, perhaps he would have felt very differently about the day to come.

Not so far away, Isabella Cullen hung up a phone, her eyes bright with unshed tears of relief, of pain, of confusion, and of fear.