Dad and Jake noticed I was off about 37 second after I came out of the bathroom. I insisted it was this nagging cold of mine. This wasn't entirely false. After my near heart-attack inducing beach trip, I had felt the full force of my riotous stomach and pounding head make its presence known once more.

I lay curled up in my bed, trying to keep my toes warm and willing my body to sleep, but it just wasn't happening. My muscle tension could've deflected bullets. I watched the sun rise and set and it was a new day – a Saturday – when I reached out from beneath the pile of blankets on my bed and fumbled around for my phone. Clearly, I needed to talk to someone about this. As I flipped my phone open, I paused. My first instinct was to call Leah.

She was my best friend in this town and we told each other almost everything. Almost. There was still stuff about Sam I know she never told me; and things she overheard accidentally within the pack wasn't always my business. I didn't hold it against her. I knew it was a job hazard and I was never unwilling to listen, so I knew if she ever needed a discreet ear, without a shared mind, I was here. It was becoming easier again between us as she got acclimated to pack life.

The pack was the very thing that paused my thumb over my phone's picture of her sitting on Seth's chest as she tackled him. She was pack. And while I knew that the stuff they mentally shared was kept between them and acknowledged for what it was – unavoidable – I was worried. I didn't know if Paul had told Sam, let alone anyone else besides Quil or Jared about what had happened. I knew he wouldn't want to, but that it could easily slip into his thoughts when he was shifted.

But if he was making every attempt to keep it away from his brothers I would feel terrible if Leah accidentally let it slip without knowing. I wouldn't want to make her feel bad or Paul feel worse. Not to mention, I'm know Jake and definitely Sam would lay into him for it. It had the potential for chaos. For the first time in my life, I couldn't call my best friend. I could have, but that would have put her in a difficult place and I didn't want that for her. She had a hard enough time.

Instead, I scrolled back up until I hit a more unlikely yet somehow intuitive contact. I didn't know about this idea either. It definitely would have been separate from the pack but I was also certain that my bringing this up could be beyond mean.

Might as well test the waters. I pressed the green "Call" button.

"Hello," came the quiet yet chipper greeting.

"Emily?" I whined. Unintentionally. I really didn't mean to start the conversation out like a five-year old.

"Rachel," she wasn't questioning it, in fact, she sounded almost expectant.

"Could we talk?" I asked.

"I was wondering when you'd call," she said with a small sigh.

I sat up with that one. "You know?" I asked. Maybe news did travel fast.

"I do," she said calmly. "I figured it out…"

"How did you—"

"He looks just like Sam did. Acting the same way. Can't decide if he's angry or skittish, but definitely always in a pit of spiraling depression. I called his name earlier and he almost cried. I figured it out."

"Wow…" I could think of nothing else intelligent to say.

"So, my place or yours?"

"Uh…" the brain vacuum continued.

"Well," she cut off what was sure to be my informative response, "I'm alone at my place. I don't expect anyone back for at least a few hours. If that helps your decision at all."

I could just hear the dulcet tones of my father and brother attempting to make food through the thin walls of my house before I directed my attention back to the phone's receiver.

"I'll be over in ten minutes."

"Rachel you look terrible," Emily cried as she opened the door and still pulled me into a full-body hug.

"Really?" I asked. "I was only aiming for 'horrible' as I got dressed. Do you think I over did it?"

"Very funny," she remarked as she steered me towards the kitchen table. I didn't give her much cause to think I was well, in all reality. My hair was still wet from my shower and simply piled into a knot on top of my head. My skin was admittedly paler than it's normal darker hue, my eyes were bloodshot from crying and illness, and I was wearing various layers of mine and Jake's clothes. I didn't discriminate as I cut an efficient path from my room to the front door on my way to the truck. That didn't even cover how I was feeling. Emotionally or physically. I was a mess.

I pulled my woolen covered feet up to sit cross legged at the table and tugged the hood of Jake's sweatshirt off as Emily bustled about. "Take these," she told me as she laid some pills on the table before me with a glass of orange juice.

"What are they?" I inquired as I popped them in my mouth. I had faith in Emily enough to help me, not to kill me. But I was still curious.

"Echinacea, Zinc, a Tylenol," she clarified as she dug around in her fridge. "It'll help whatever virus you've clearly got. Something's been going around. Claire had it all last week."

"Claire?" I asked. I hadn't heard that name before. And I knew everyone on the res.

"Oh…" she said standing up with a Tupperware container in her hands. Her reaction made it seem she'd said something she didn't intend for me to hear.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I didn't want to make one of my only allies feel uncomfortable. "I get it. There's a bug going around."

"No, no," she waved dismissively as she put some of the container's contents into the microwave. "Claire's my niece. My sister and her came down from the Makah res to visit."

"Oh," I muttered. That was anticlimactic. Not that I cared either way, but why would Emily feel weird about telling me about her niece?

"She got to meet some of the pack," she laughed in a way that might've indicated irony. I was getting lost again. She pulled the bowl of what I now realized was soup from the microwave and joined me at the table. I just sort of stared at her quizzically. "Eat and I'll explain," she agreed. "The guys love kids. It's kind of a natural inclination. But…" she trailed off here as she stared down at the wood grain of the table top. I didn't push it, and just slowly sipped my soup – which was pretty damn fantastic, can I just say? "Quil has really taken to her," she finally muttered quietly.

"Really?" I chuckled after a swallow. "Quil Ateara? The Rico Suave of QTS tenth grade?" It was well known around the reservation that Quil had been a bit of talker since he learned to talk. He was like that way with everyone, but once he and Jake and Embry got to junior high, he turned the charm on the ladies. It was always good-natured, and down right comical as he was rejected half the time. "I don't see him being big on kids, no offense."

"No," Emily looked up to meet my eyes finally. "Quil has really taken to her," she said significantly.

I choked on the noodle I had half swallowed when she spoke. "He… He… He— He did? Quil? Little Quil?" I indicated his small pre-pack height with my hand.

Emily just nodded.

"Oh my god," I leaned back in my chair allowing my spoon to rest in my uneaten soup. "Another one bites the dust, huh?"

"She's two, Rachel."

My eyes almost popped out of my head. When she said 'kid', I thought she might've meant thirteen or fourteen. "TWO?" I shouted. "That's sick!" Quil, the boy who had just driven me home a few hours ago, was eternally bonded to a toddler?

Emily read the expression clear enough on my face. "I know," she cried, laying her face down on her crossed arms. I was shocked by the gesture. Emily was always so maternal and put together. We were the same age, but she always seemed so much older than me. The way she handled herself and situations with such tact and a cool head, belied her young age. As she lay her head on her arms and pouted from the kitchen table, I got glimpse of the real Emily.

I was always one to lay my problems out before people, but Emily – almost like Sam – took everything in stride and didn't let much show. Until now. It surprised me, but I didn't find it uncomfortable. I'm glad Emily had enough faith in me to reciprocate.

"How's your sister taking it?" I asked in a dull haze.

She only shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Well if she hasn't left the state yet, I'd say that's pretty well. She's got a hormonal boy after her daughter."

"I guess it's not like that yet," Emily said quietly as she picked her head back up. "Sam says, at least from what he can tell," she tapped her temple and I understood her meaning, "Quil just wants to protect her. To play games with her and take to her the park. Just silly fun things like that. It's not romantic love."

"Like a brother?" I asked. She nodded slightly. "Speaking of Sam…" I continued, "does your sister know?"

"Yeah," she nodded slightly again, her shoulders hunched around her. "She knows Claire's not the first. She knows about me – and it certainly helps her understand especially considering she knew Leah so well, too. She knows of you and Kim, too."

I nodded, trying to process the idea of Quil imprinting on two year-old. So many things spun through my mind. If it's not romantic now, will it ever be? When? When she's and adult? Does Claire even get a choice? What is Quil supposed to do with his life until she is an adult?

I was broken out of my thoughts by Emily's sigh. "She doesn't know about this, though." I was taken aback by the easy and blunt way she referenced her own marred face. "She doesn't know it was Sam. She still thinks it was a bear. If she ever knew… I couldn't do that to Quil," she shook her head. "I mean, Sam was new. Really, really new. And Quil is such a different person; so much more easy going and laid back. I know he's still really new to pack life but I don't see him doing anything like that just because that's not him, he doesn't get worked up like that and—"

"Emily!" I finally sat up and interrupted her rant. "It's okay. Breathe." With that she took a deep breath and her shoulders visibly lowered. "Quil's actually lucky. He's had so many guys go before him that he doesn't have to pave his own way. And if he's infatuated with this little girl, I doubt something like that will ever happen."

"It happened to you," she replied.

That it did.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It did. Paul's also different," I added as I slouched back in the chair once again.

"How'd it happen?" Emily sat up right, not nearly as forlorn as moments ago and busied herself with tying her hair back as I tried to craft my response.

"It was me and Quil and Jared" – "Surprise, surprise," Emily had muttered under her breath – "and Paul. Jared just really got under his skin. Which I've seen before but I've never seen him lose control."

"It's terrifying," she agreed. "I hadn't even wanted to spend time with Sam. He had just broken his relationship off with Leah and was following me around – forgive the pun – like a puppy. I didn't know about the pack or anything that comes along with that at the time. He just wanted so desperately to spend time with me. I finally caved and agreed. But one day, after a particularly long talk with myself, I decided to cut it off. I didn't think any of it was worth the stress it put on Leah and I's relationship. When I told Sam I never wanted see him again – okay, I screamed it at him – he lost it."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"How did you… I mean, now everything seems…"

"Fine? It is. I was in the hospital for a week and after that he sat outside my front door in tears the whole time. Would you believe me if I told you Iwas the one that ended up comforting him? Truth be told, I was scared. I really thought he was going to do something to hurt himself and as confused as I was I didn't want him doing something like that. The pure sadness and just… absolute self-loathing that emanated off him was unbearable. Somewhere in there it just sort of clicked for me."

"What do you mean, 'it clicked'?"

"I obviously knew something was up with Sam when he exploded into a giant ball of fur in my living room. Granted, I don't remember much. I just remember a wolf before it all goes black. But I knew there had to be more to it. Then came the imprinting explanation."

"Sam told you?" I asked trying to clarify.

"No," she shook her head. "He wasn't quite there yet. Old Quil told me the Quileute legends, recounted the relevant ones for me – starting with the spirit warriors. Obviously, I could now tell that those were true, so when got to the part about imprinting…"

"It clicked," I nodded, finally understanding.

"Yep. See the thing is, I'm Makah, I'm not Quileute so I didn't have any background information at all."

"And you were first and you were new to La Push," I continued, realizing how much reality must've bitch-slapped Emily in the face only weeks after she got here. "And I thought I had it rough."

"You did take far better than I did," she nodded with a small smile. After a quite moment she cocked her head and looked at me, as if she was looking into me. "You took so quickly to him. Even that night, I remember, you sidled right up to him. I know you must've known him from childhood, but it was remarkable…"

I offered her a small smile, remembering the night that all had been revealed to me. I had been sick and dizzy and overwrought and it all seemed too much. In my haze of hysteria, I had somehow (maybe subconsciously) decided that I was okay with this genetic bond I had with Paul. I had accepted that he would play a role in my life – heck, he was the one who told me all about the wolves; at the very least we would've always had that encounter.

"I remember," I nodded in affirmation. "I was a mess… but even then," I shrugged for lack of words. "It just felt right, y'know. Even though I hadn't really got to know him that well, he just made me feel safe. Calm."

"Exactly," Emily nodded. "And nothing will change that. The time prior I had spent with Sam, I tried so hard to hate him – for Leah's sake and on pure female principle – but I found it so hard because being around him just made me so happy. That soul-tie that you have, that'll never go away. Sometimes, it just hides behind the chaos."

"I don't know, Emily," I shook my head, pulling my bowl of soup close once again. "After today—I mean, look at me, I still have the shakes! I don't know if or how I'll be able to deal with seeing him again, you know. And the sick thing is I do still love him. I don't know how to fix this."

"Hon," she laid a sympathetic hand on my forearm. "There's nothing for you to fix, Rachel. This is all him. You can't help him with this. His brothers can. I can tell you Jared has felt terrible and has been trying to mend his soul since yesterday. You'll have two pack boys begging for forgiveness, I wouldn't doubt."

"But how do I not be scared?" I asked pathetically.

"That," Emily said pointedly, "is something you will have to figure out on your own. If it's right. It will come natural. You can't force it. You just have realize it's a job hazard and certain dangers follow every human being around. We're lucky because we'll never be victims of domestic abuse or drunk partners or loveless relationships or anything like that. Our hazard is a boy's quick temper. It gets better with time and both you and he will learn to combat it; you'll learn his tics and his cues. You really were lucky this time. Nothing worth having ever comes easy."