Disclaimer: This also applies to chapter one. "Fallible" is mine. The Twilight Saga is not, and there is no copyright infringement intended. I'm only borrowing these characters, not adopting them.

A/N: Remember peeps, this story is rated M for several reasons. Language is one of them. Sexual situations are another. If you shouldn't be reading this... don't get caught.

10 – DOING EVERYTHING WRONG – 10

In a single second, my heart stops, my head snaps up towards the door, and Sam is off of me so fast that I barely see him move. I don't have time to wonder how he moved faster than I can blink when the shouts start.

Except the voice is nowhere near the pitch and tone I expect it to be. Instead of angry, it is frantic. Instead of high, it is deceptively low. I look up, confused as the speaker launches himself into the living room and over to Sam.

Instead of Leah, it is Jared.

Oh.

" – need to go now, Sam! Y-You know Paul – the one we've been watching – he's in trouble! He… we have to go!" He's panicked and he's frightened. That much is evident in his voice, let alone his face expression.

My eyes swing to Sam. He hasn't reacted verbally yet, even though whatever Jared is talking about, is clearly urgent.

"Sam!" Jared says again. I feel my heartbeat begin to speed up. I don't know what's going on, but if it has him this upset…

Sam's face is pale, but other than that, he's unresponsive. I wonder if he's in some sort of shock.

"Sam," I say, softly, and just like that whatever stupor he's in, he quickly shakes himself out of it.

"Okay. Okay, Jared!" he snaps, as Jared has now resorted to physically tugging on his arm. He snatches himself away forcefully, then turns to me, his face softening and gives me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

And then, from my position on the floor – I still haven't moved – I watch them race out of the front door leaving it wide open behind them.

If I thought I was lost before, it's nothing compared to how I feel right now.

Slowly, I stand up from the floor, cross the room and peek out of the front door. There's no sign of them in any direction. Either Jared drove away… but no, I didn't hear his jeep's engine, arriving or leaving. So they ran? Got picked up by someone? Whichever it was, it happened fast. Much like Sam jumping away from me. Amazingly fast.

I shake my head and close the door, but I don't feel any better as my thoughts slowly return to Leah. If Jared can burst in here like that, she certainly can. Especially now that the lock seems to be broken. I sigh, not sure if I really want to sit around and wait for her all day now that I have no one and nothing to distract me.

Instinctively, I know that Sam won't be returning anytime soon. And I'd rather not be stuck here alone when Leah decides to show up. I shiver at the thought. Not that I'm afraid of her, but it would be a rather uncomfortable confrontation without anyone here for support.

Quickly, I make my way to my room, throw on a few layers of clothing, and leave, paranoid now that Leah will show up before I can get out of the front door. I breathe a sigh of relief a few blocks away, but I just know she's home by now. I wonder again what's keeping her. Maybe she has to think of new insults, or maybe she's in disbelief at the news. Either way, I'm grateful for the delay.

Without quite thinking about it, I find myself in front of Uncle Harry's store. I know Leah won't come here – she and Seth seem to have some weird aversion to the family business – so I allow myself to breathe easy as I walk up to the door.

That's when I spot the note on the door. In Uncle Harry's chicken-scratch writing is written: Temporarily closed due to an emergency. Apologies for the inconvenience.

I'm not stupid. I know this has something to do with Paul, the rez kid that Jared mentioned. Well, he's not so much of kid anymore. I haven't spotted him yet this summer, but I know that he's around the Black twins' younger brother, Jacob's age. He's known for having somewhat of a bad attitude, and I can't imagine what trouble he's gotten into. I know it's not anything juvenile, though; Harry wouldn't close the store for something petty, so it's got to be serious. I hope he's okay.

I make up my mind and head towards the Clearwater's. There's probably nothing I can do, I know. But just in case I'm reading all of the signs wrong, and Uncle Harry's emergency isn't related to Paul, I want to be there. I hope Leah won't cause a scene. Whatever is going on is bigger than her conflict with me –

- me at all. I've never received a colder welcome, but I force myself to ignore it. She informs me that Uncle Harry isn't home and expresses some surprise that the store is closed. I feel brief relief that it's not a family emergency, then.

I ask about Seth, but get told he's out with friends. And after a moment's hesitation, I ask about Leah.

"She's out," is all Aunt Sue says. At her tone, I take it to mean that the conversation is over and any further questions will not be answered. I turn to leave.

"Thank you," I say politely. "Goodbye."

I wait for a beat, but she doesn't respond, and fighting a pang of sadness, I trudge back in the direction of Sam's and my house. I wasn't so naïve as to believe that all of the secrets would disappear now that I live with him. But they have slipped my mind lately, consumed as I am with all of the attention we've been giving to our growing relationship. I frown at myself.

I know I told him that his secrets were his to tell, his to give away, his to confide, and as much as I've come to like Jared, I'm still very jealous that he was so easily let in on everything, and I am not. Unless of course, he stumbled onto what is going on by accident, and they had no choice but to tell him.

I sigh. But somehow I doubt it.

My head is down as I walk along in silent contemplation. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't notice her until I am practically on top of her.

Approaching the house, I look up, and my heart seemingly jumps into my throat. Leah is here. On the front porch. Effectively blocking the entrance.

I freeze, unsure of what to do, what to say… if I should say or do anything. My eyes drift up to meet hers of their own accord, and the hated radiating from her being is so present that I physically take a step back. I flinch as she brings a raised fist up in front of her, although I am nowhere near touching distance.

I realize that she's holding something in her hand, but I'm too far back to register what it is until she unfolds it. It's a piece of paper. She squints at it.

"Emily," She says my name and something heavy falls into my stomach. "There was an emergency on the rez with one of the boys and the council wants me and Jared to help sort it out. Sorry for running out on you like that earlier, but there was no time to explain. I promised I wouldn't disappear again without letting you know first, so I hope this counts. I'll try to see you when I can. Miss you already. Hopefully, I won't be gone for too long this time. Sam."

Her voice is mocking and filled with derision. I feel my heart sink a little bit lower. Of all the people who could have found that note… I would have preferred Aunt Sue. Actually with the way Leah is looking at me right now – like I'm not fit to live on the bottom of her shoe – it's difficult to tell her from Aunt Sue.

Leah speaks again. "Tell me something," she says, this time her voice unexpectedly soft. The anger is still very much detectable, though. "Whose name does he call out when you guys are having sex?"

I flinch, although she doesn't particularly say it in a snappy way. There's almost a curious tone in her voice.

I shake my head. "W-We don't," I stammer, then immediately regret that I've admitted that to her. For a moment, triumph reigns in her eyes, then just as quickly, it's gone.

She smiles, cruelly, and holds up the paper as if it's evidence. "Please. You can drop the charade any time now."

I don't say anything. I honestly don't know what to say. To apologize would sound utterly pathetic and probably fake, even though I mean it sincerely. Any other attempt at conversation would probably try to come out as apology of some sort anyways.

But she's staring at me, watching me, expectantly, so I open my mouth.

"We're together," I say, stating the obvious, and her entire face changes.

I know it's one thing for her to know that Sam and I are together and another thing entirely for her to hear it straight from me. Even though she's saying all that she's saying, it's clear she wasn't prepared for me to come out and admit it honestly.

"You're a bitch," she says coolly.

I wince, but I choose not to respond to that.

She gestures behind her to the house, Sam's and mine.

"This was supposed to be mine," she snarls. "This - " She shakes the letter at me to emphasize, " – should have my name on it! Sam was my fiancée and we were getting married. How can you just come down here and… is nothing sacred to you?"

I feel tears forming behind my eyes. Without quite knowing why, I walk towards her. "Leah, I'm sor – " I start to say, but before I can get the words out, Leah's free hand comes up and out of nowhere.

She slaps me. Hard. Across my face. It stings. The tears fall and my hand automatically reaches up to hold my cheek as I stare at her in shock.

She is incensed. "Don't you fucking dare tell me you're sorry, because anything you say is going to have a 'but' behind it. Like you're sorry, but you fell in love. You're sorry, but you moved in with him. You're sorry, but at the first opportunity of me being out of the picture, you stopped resisting his advances."

I can't do anything, but cry. I've never felt so pathetic in my life.

"If you're so sorry, then break up with him."

At that, my mouth drops open. Break up with Sam? Be… be without him? My stomach clenches up. The very thought of leaving him causes me physical pain. And I don't know why. He's just a… a guy. But even that thought does nothing to convince me.

God, I'm really falling for Sam… if I haven't already.

Leah is crying now, angry tears, bigger tears than mine. "I thought you were my best friend, but you care about him more than me? How can you? You don't even know him!"

I open my mouth, but whether it's to protest that statement or to say I'm sorry again, I'm not sure. She doesn't let me figure it out.

"Don't!" she shouts, cutting me off. "Shut. Up. Don't say a word to me. I… I hate you. I don't even – " She suddenly just stops and gives me a look filled with so much loathing that I have to look away. I'm afraid to make eye-contact.

"You're going to get yours," she says in that soft voice again, sending chills up my spine. "You're going to pay for this. You know why? Because karma is a bitch, too. Just like you."

I hear several ripping sounds, but my mind doesn't process that it's the letter she ripped until I look up. The bits of letter are confetti scattered over the front porch.

Leah walks past me. I flinch, but she doesn't hit me again. She keeps walking. And although I watch her until she's out of sight, she never looks back.

Numbly, I go into the house and close the door, feeling unsafe that I'm unable to lock it. But due to the fact that Leah was waiting for me outside and not inside, I can probably assume that she's not aware the lock is broken. It doesn't make me feel that much better, though.

I go into the kitchen and find a sticky note and a pen. Instead of turning into my room next, however, I turn into his instead, kneel by the edge of the bed and write:

Leah came by. I thought I could do this, but I can't. I hurt her so much. I've never seen her like that before. I'm so sorry, but I have to go back to Seattle.

I stare at my words for a full minute until fresh tears well up in my eyes causing the letters to go blurry. Despair claws up from somewhere deep inside of me and makes its presence known. Angry and frustrated and saddened, I crumple the letter up in my hand and throw it across the room.

I climb up on Sam's bed, find his pillow, and hug it tight. Then, the last bit of control I have slips away. I don't just cry, I sob. Loud, hiccupping, end-of-the-world sobs. I choke on my own tears and gasp for breath, but it's too late to stop once I've started.

Aunt Sue is right. I am the most selfish person in the world.

With that last thought running through my head, I cry myself to sleep –

- sleep for very long, despite the exhaustion I felt as I was drifting off. I know the house is empty before I even sit up, but something seems not quite right somehow. I stretch out in the bed and my hand comes across a piece of paper. I look over to the side Sam favors and next to a piece of paper is a single daisy.

My heart starts beating a little faster and I open up the note.

Emily, please.

Instinctively I look across the room to where I threw my note to him earlier. It's gone. So he found it. I feel the familiar burning sensation behind my eyes again, but I know I'm not going to be able to drift off to sleep this time.

A large part of me is hurt that he didn't wake me up, even if he could only stay for a minute. I could have used a hug. Or even just his voice, telling me that everything is going to be okay. Suddenly, I'm angry. It seems that whenever Leah is launching a personal attack against me, Sam has to disappear. I know deep down that it's just one of those things, a coincidence, but it would help immensely if I knew why he had to go.

I crumple up this paper, too, and don't bother to reply back. It's petty, I know, but I'm upset. I feel… off-balance. And wronged, somehow. Maybe I'm being dramatic right now, but it suddenly feels like there's so much being asked of me… I'm being asked to sacrifice so much, and I still don't have the full story as to why.

I still don't understand why Sam suddenly left Leah for me, or why I respond to him the way that I do. I don't understand why I'm falling for him so quickly, or why I agreed to move in to his house. I don't understand why he has such a hold on me, and why I let him. If he were any other guy –

If he was any other guy, I wouldn't put up with it. I would have broken up with him, or done something else really drastic by now. Leah's tearful words from not so long ago come back to haunt me.

I shake my head to try to clear it, but it's no use. It's true. Sam is wonderful, but if he was any other guy I would have demanded some kind of explanation by now. Actually, if he was any other guy, I would not have agreed to be with him in the first place.

At least, I would like to believe that I wouldn't hurt Leah for just anyone.

I sigh. I need some answers. And since Uncle Harry isn't exactly forthcoming, I guess that means I'll have to stick around for a while longer. At least until Sam gets back.

The next few days are lonely. Uncle Harry finally hires someone else to help out in the store, and since he's training her pretty much all the time, there's no need for me to work. Every day I wake up with an anticipatory feeling in my stomach, and every day I'm disappointed to see that Sam isn't back yet.

Though, he does leave notes from time to time. For instance, two days ago, I woke up, wandered into the kitchen, and stuck to the refrigerator handle was a sticky note that read:

Picked up some milk and your favorite cereal. We were out.

I couldn't be mad about that because it was thoughtful, but still, it made me angry that he couldn't stick around long enough to have a conversation. I didn't really want to, but I wrote a thank you note back and left it on the counter.

Today I woke up to find a simple Good morning taped to the outside of his closed bedroom door, which I didn't remember closing. But since it's right across the hall from my bedroom, it's the first thing I saw when I left my room. Again, I was annoyed to see that he had time to write notes, but not time to talk, so I tore down the note and dropped it in the bathroom trashcan, purposely leaving a piece of it, along with the tape on his bedroom wall. Childishly, I hoped that he would detect my annoyance from that.

I needed to get out of the house, and I need to figure out what to do about the schooling situation. It's getting closer and closer to the deadline and I'm still not one-hundred percent sure if staying is the right decision.

What I need is someone who is not biased, who doesn't know the situation, and hasn't picked a side.

I find myself dialing a number before I can think about it, and an hour later, I'm sitting across from Emeric in Port Angeles, sipping a hot tea inside a coffee shop.

"Do you think you've become a better person yet?" I ask, and he gives me a confused stare.

"Clarify?" he says, one-eyebrow raised.

I smile, though my heart isn't in it. "You said that if you were a better person, you could listen to me talk about someone else," I remind him. I stare down at my drink because embarrassingly enough, my eyes have begun to burn with oncoming tears once again, and I can feel his eyes on me.

"Luckily for you, I have," he says teasingly, but in a soft voice. "So what's going on? Whose ass do I have to kick?"

At that, a single tear falls and I catch it, but not before he notices. To his credit, he doesn't say a word, just waits for me to answer.

"Mine," I say, and just like that, the entire story comes pouring out.

When I finish, he looks at me for a long time, and I cringe, wondering what he must think of me now. I've just admitted to pretty much stealing my cousin's fiancée from her. I can't blame him for thinking the worst of me.

"Wow," he finally says. "When you said it was an impossible situation, you really meant it was an impossible situation."

I let out a nervous laugh. "Yes."

He smiles at me, and runs a hand through his hair. "Emily, don't look so nervous. I meant it when I said I don't judge."

I stare at him, incredulously. "Really?"

"I mean, obviously, I feel for your cousin," He makes a face, and I look away, ashamed. "It must suck for her and it would be heartless not to feel sorry for her, but if everything you're saying is true, then you and Sam… are the real deal. They wouldn't have lasted. Eventually…" He gestures towards me, and an imaginary Sam.

"So… you believe in fate?" I ask, surprised.

He shrugs. "Maybe. Whether I do or not, it's easy to see that you're falling in love with him… and that I never had a chance."

I blush fiercely. Of course I know that already. I am falling for Sam. But somehow, him saying it out loud makes it so much more real.

"Sam seems like… a pretty good guy," Emeric says, with a sigh.

"What makes you say that, after everything I've just told you?" I ask, surprised again. Most people would write Sam off as a jerk… like Matt did.

Emeric shakes his head. "Because so many guys I know would try to play you two against each other. So many would get off on the fact that two girls are fighting over them. Not that you seem to be really fighting Leah, but she's definitely fighting you. From what you've told me, Sam seems pretty straightforward. He actually came out and said that he broke up with Leah to be with you. Regardless of his motives at the time since he didn't actually know you, he never tried anything shady, did he?"

My face burns as my mind flashes back to a darkened living room, a couch, and the whispered words, "This could be enough for me."

Emeric narrows his eyes. "Has he tried anything shady?"

"N-No! Well, I mean… in the beginning… he wanted to be with me, but they were still… He broke up with her right after that, though. When I made it clear, I wouldn't… That's when he broke up with her for me," I stammer.

Emeric's suspicious look lessens, but remains suspicious.

"I don't think it would have gone beyond a kiss," I say, softly. "We both would've felt terrible afterwards, and he would've broken up with her anyway."

He regards me for a moment. "Emily… I think you should stay. Not because I want you to go to Peninsula College because I happen to be going to Peninsula, but because it would only hurt you in the long run if you left. You would always be wondering what if."

I shake my head, even though I know he's right. But how can I stay?

"No, listen," he continues. "The worst has happened already. Leah knows. Your family knows. And yes, some of them will be angry for a while. And eventually, they'll get over it. But Sam won't get over it if you leave. And you won't, either." He grins. "You'll probably be back within a week."

I smile, a broken smile, but a smile nonetheless, because I just know he's right.

"Stay. At the risk of sounding harsh, you and Sam made this mess together. It would suck if he was left all alone to clean it up."

Sam would be devastated if I leave, even though he knew from the beginning that the possibility was there. It was supposed to be a summer thing. But like he said, we're in too deep now. I don't want to leave him. And logically, I know there is nothing left for me in Seattle.

I wasn't lying when I spoke those words to Aunt Sue – La Push is my home. I belong here. Although things with Sam are not perfect, and there are issues we need to work out – mainly his keeping secrets – I know deep down that right now, with Sam, is where I belong.

I say goodbye to Emeric, thank him for everything and make my way to Peninsula. With renewed motivation, I sign up for classes, call my dad to get everything paid for, then I make my way back home.

All I needed, it seemed, was a little push –

- Push, it's raining hard. I don't bother with an umbrella. Instead, I get into the house, noticing that the door has been fixed while I was gone. There's a note taped to it in unfamiliar handwriting, meant for Sam, but I read it anyways.

Happy now, dipshit? I fixed your stupid door, and surprise-surprise, I noticed you weren't home on your deathbed. Sick, my ass. You know we don't get paid for sick leave right? You could've done this damn thing yourself, you liar. You better be resting up in a big fancy hospital, motherfucker, because when you get back, you're taking all my shifts AND yours. You owe me, Uley.

- Jeff

Jeff? I figure it must be a guy from his construction job, since Uncle Harry hasn't hired any new men last time I checked. His note gets me to thinking, though, and only reinforces what I've decided. I need to talk to Sam. If he's truly doing something for the tribe, then I don't see why he has to lie to his other job about it and tell them that he's sick. It doesn't make any sense… unless he's doing something illegal.

The thought makes my body grow cold. But if he's doing something illegal, why in the world would the elder council, including Uncle Harry, be so approving of it? It just doesn't make any sense.

I know I told him that he was entitled to his secrets, but enough is enough. I can't walk around in the dark anymore. I need to know what's going on.

A key has been taped to the note, and I pull it off, while leaving the note on the door for Sam to find, and open the door with it. I mentally remind myself to make a copy of the key for him, so he won't have to come through the other door every time he needs to get in the house.

I absently start to throw together something simple for dinner, which makes me wonder what Sam is eating every day. Whatever it is, it's probably not healthy, since he doesn't have time to do anything other than… whatever it is he's doing. I make extra for him, and because I know Jared's with him, I make extra for Jared too. I put the extra in the refrigerator – write a sticky note so he knows it's there - and eat my portion. I take a shower, then lay down to go to sleep, my mind filled with Sam.

I awake the next morning, expectantly, as if my airtight decision will make him appear in front of me ready to talk. My disappointment is doubled when I see that he's still not back. And he hasn't come in last night, or if he did, he didn't see the note and the food I left for him.

I know by now that his coming by while I'm asleep or out isn't a coincidence, and it's hurtful. Since I don't have to work today again, I make up my mind to catch him. I won't leave the house at all today. I walk around, lock every window and open every door wide, with the exception of the two doors that lead to the outside. If he comes in, there's no way I won't see him unless I go to the bathroom or something. And even then, I decide I'll go as quickly as possible and leave the door open, so I'll be able to hear him. The bathroom door is close enough to the toilet that I can swing it shut if need be, so I'm not worried in that aspect.

I know that just sitting around and being vigilant is going to get boring fast, so I hunt down his vampire/werewolf movie collection and I pop in something that will keep me on my toes, nothing I could possibly fall asleep watching. Normally, I never watch scary movies alone, but since it's daytime, I figure it'll take away from the jumpiness factor.

It doesn't. Regardless, though, I spend the entire day watching scary movies for nothing. Sam never shows up. He doesn't show up the next day. Or the day after that, either. I go back to working in the store, but the food stays in the refrigerator, and I don't receive any more notes. After a while, I take down the note on the door myself, and put it on the kitchen counter, where it grows increasingly sticky from all of my one-woman "cooking shows."

I start to worry a week later when I still haven't heard from him at all. Uncle Harry assures me that he's fine, but I'm worried that my parents will show up and that Sam still won't be back. And where exactly am I supposed to tell them he's run off to? I can't exactly use the hospital excuse, since, knowing my mom especially, she'll want to go visit.

I'm on edge at the store that Wednesday night. My parents are supposed to be here on Friday, and there's still been no sign of Sam. The new girl, Karen, notices, and I know I'm probably a nightmare to work with, but since she's still new, I can't exactly leave her to lock up by herself. The time creeps by and I breathe a sigh of relief when it's time for us to go.

Karen is nice enough to offer me a ride home with her dad and I accept readily. I race around the store, restocking and closing everything up, and doing half the job I would normally do. I tell myself Uncle Harry will understand, and then I jump in the car.

I let myself in the house a few minutes later and butterflies start to dance in my stomach. Sam's been here. I don't know how I know, but I do. Nothing looks different, but I know.

My excitement mounting, along with nervousness, I approach his room. His door is wide open, like I usually leave it, but when I actually peek inside, I see that he's not there. My excitement ebbs. He must've left me a note somewhere. I turn on the light and quickly survey the room, but there's nothing.

Fighting back a surge of disappointment, I go across the hall to my room and let out a tiny gasp of shock. He's… here. Sleeping on my bed.

Slowly I approach him, and as I get closer it's easy to see that he's clearly exhausted. He looks very much how he looked on the day I asked him if he wanted to be friends. Confused, lost, guarded, and utterly fatigued.

I raise my hand and gently skim my fingers over his cheek, from his ear to his lips. He doesn't have stubble. It's pretty much a full-grown beard. I don't know why I'm surprised that he didn't have time to shave.

He seems to relax under my touch. I wonder if he can sense me somehow in his sleep, if he knows it's me and that I'm here and touching him.

I want so badly to go take a shower, and then crawl up into his arms. But I realize I'm scared to leave. I'm scared that if I leave the room for a moment, even just to take a shower, that he won't be here when I get back. My eyes rake his sleeping form from head to toe. He's out. I don't think a bulldozer crashing into the side of the house would wake him, but…

I hesitate.

No, I won't leave. I don't want to risk it.

Luckily, we're in my room – and I wonder why he came into my room? – so that I can grab a change of clothes without having to go across the hall. I quickly strip and redress in a t-shirt and some leggings, and then crawl up next to him. He sighs in his sleep.

Hesitantly, I wrap my arms around him, and bury my head in his chest. I don't want to go to sleep. I don't want to wake up and find him gone. But fatigue fights against me. And wins.

I am deliciously warm, and aware of it before I open my eyes. Suddenly the night before comes rushing back, my heart begins to beat much faster, and my eyes pop open… to find Sam watching me. His smile is breathtaking, and my answering smile is automatic. Before I remember everything.

The smile drops from my face as fast as it appeared, and I sit up, forcibly removing myself from his embrace. I scramble away from him, even though my body is screaming at me not to. I want the contact, more than anything, but I can't pretend like everything is okay.

"You didn't leave," he says, and I can see the worry in his eyes. Worry that I still might? I wonder.

Meanwhile, my heart is beating triple time because I heard his voice. For the first time in over two weeks. It's comparable to being onstage in the spotlight and forgetting your lines, so you stand there for a full minute, terrified, before someone takes mercy and reads them to you from the wings. Then, once you have that first line, you remember everything.

"You came. More than once," I say, unable to disguise the hurt in my voice. "And you didn't wake me up."

Guilt flashes in his eyes and he looks away. "I knew I couldn't stay. I didn't want to give you false hope if I couldn't stay."

"I missed you. I wanted to see you. I don't care if it was only for a minute, I – " I've become such a crybaby, lately. Tears cascade down my cheeks, and I cut myself off. I feel pathetic. I probably sound pathetic.

He moves closer to me to try to comfort me, but I shake my head before he can make contact. He looks hurt, and I hurt because of it, but I need him to understand that it's not okay.

"I don't like when you leave," I say, staring down at the comforter, unable to look him in the eyes. "I really don't like it, but if you have to, it… it might be easier to deal with if I could understand why."

He doesn't speak, and after a long moment, the silence gets awkward. I look up. He looks more tense than I've ever seen him. I get the feeling that he's ready to bolt, much like before when I asked him about all of this secrecy.

"We're living together, Sam," I continue, since he doesn't seem like he's going to open his mouth and start talking anytime soon. "I thought you wouldn't be back in time for my parents to meet you. And I didn't know what I was going to say to them about where you were."

"But I'm here now. I'm back. I didn't forget about your parents," he interrupts.

"But where were you?" I ask, insistently. "There was a note on the door from some guy named Jeff. What's so top-secret that your co-workers have to think you're in the hospital?"

He swallows. "You wouldn't believe me if I – "

"Try me," I say, staring at him. He clenches his jaw and looks away.

"Sam, you can trust me," I push. "Don't you know that by now?"

"It's not a matter of trust!" he snaps, causing me to recoil. He immediately looks apologetic.

I cross my arms. "What is it then?" I say, quietly, before he can change the subject with apologies. "I can handle it."

"What if you can't?" he asks, standing up from the bed. He adopts a defensive position, arms crossed as well, leaning against the wall. "What if you can't handle it?" he repeats. "What am I supposed to do then?"

My feelings are hurt. "What makes you think I can't?" I retort. "I'm not weak, Sam. How many times do I have to tell you that you don't have to take care of me? Why is it that Uncle Harry and Jared and the council all seem to know what's going on, but I… y-your girlfriend, don't have a clue? Why can't you just tell me?"

"Because I care about you!" he says, angrily.

I stand up now, but even from the other side of the bed, he towers over me. "And what? You don't care about anyone else?" I say, sarcastically. "Gee, how nice of you to care about me, then!"

He lets out what I can only describe as a growl, and then comes over to where I'm standing, quick as a flash. "Emily," he says, grabbing my shoulders. "I cannot lose you. I can't. If you… were to find out and not accept – " He cuts himself off, and pulls away from me.

I glare at him while he visibly gets himself together.

"What makes you think I wouldn't accept anything and everything about you?" I say, angrily.

"I can't risk it," he says with an air of finality. He starts to move towards the exit, but with a sudden burst of recklessness, I jump in front of him, my back against the door.

"You don't get to decide what's best for me!" I exclaim. "Whatever it is that you're keeping from me, it affects me too!"

"Emily, please move," he says, his teeth clenched.

"No," I say. "Tell me what's going on."

"Emily – "

"Tell me, Sam! Tell me why I'm standing here right now. Tell me why I'm in this room, arguing with you, instead of at the Clearwater's, arguing with Leah. Tell me why I-I moved in here, why I decided to go to school here, so I can stay with you. Tell me why, the real reason why, you left Leah for me."

"Get out of the way, Emily."

'NO! If you want me to move, then move me!"

He glares at me and I glare right back at him. For about twenty seconds. Then, he moves in close, and my eyes widen, as I think he's actually going to physically move me. But he doesn't.

Instead, his lips touch mine. And I'm so shocked that I let him. And when I realize what he's doing, I don't push him away. I don't even think about pushing him away. Instead, my legs turn to jelly, and he's grabbed my upper arms again, except this time, it's to prevent me from falling on the floor.

We kiss and touch like we haven't seen each other in months. One of his hands stays on my shoulder, the other slides up under the front of my shirt and cups one of my breasts. I gasp into his mouth at the contact, and he responds by squeezing tighter. His tongue slips into my mouth as my hands roam all over his chest. He pinches my nipple roughly between two of his fingers and I moan into his mouth. His kisses travel down to my neck, quickly. He skips over my shirt and lowers himself down until his mouth fastens onto my other nipple. He suckles, causing heat to pool between my legs.

One of my hands clutches at his shoulder while the other grabs the back of his head and holds it tightly against my breast. He switches his attentions to my other breast while his other hand grabs onto my hip. He slides it down to my butt and squeezes it, resulting in another gasp from me.

"Emily, Emily, Emily," he mumbles when he's finished attacking my breasts. His hands continue their downward movement and I feel a tugging at my leggings. I let him remove them, and he runs his hands up and down my legs. He kisses along the inside of my thigh, making me shiver. When his hands travel back up to my waist and he tugs to remove my panties, I wake up.

"Sam," I gasp, putting my hands over his to stop him. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes.

"Sorry," he says, hoarsely.

I close my eyes, upset with myself. If he wanted to distract me, he won. I'm still no closer to finding out what's going on, or why he affects me the way he does.

Defeated, I step aside and open the door for him. He doesn't move.

"Emily – " he says, an agitated look on his face, but I raise a finger to his lips.

"If you're about to lie to me, please don't," I say, softly, my eyes prickling with tears again. "You and I both know why that just happened… So just go. You wanted to go, right?"

He stares at the ground. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used… it… like that."

"But you did. And it worked. So, please." I turn away from him, away from the door, and I don't watch as he walks out, closing the door behind him.

But as soon as he leaves, I sink down onto the floor, put my head in my hands. And I cry.

I don't feel brave enough to leave my room for the next two hours, and when I do, it's only because I really, really have to use the bathroom, I remember that I didn't shower last night, and I'm hungry.

After I stall in the bathroom for as long as possible, I tentatively make my way towards the kitchen. Sam is sitting on the living room couch, staring at a blue screen. He hasn't changed or shaved, yet, and I wonder how long he's been sitting there. A pang goes through me. Probably since I kicked him out of the room.

I swallow and he turns to me, a tortured look in his eyes. Another pang goes through me.

"Emily," he whispers. Stunned, I realize he's been crying. Everything in me screams that I should go to him, and I'm too tired to fight it, so I do.

I go over and lower myself into his lap. He buries his face in my shoulder and mumbles something I can't really understand, but it sounds like, "I'm doing everything wrong. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's so hard. I don't know how to do this."

I'm doing everything wrong, too. How do I explain to him that I'm not the one who needs to be taken care of? How do I reverse the roles he's been playing out for so long? He took care of his mother right up until the end… he took care of himself… he was prepared to take care of Leah… he's taken on this big brother role with Jared...

It's been so long since he's had someone to take care of him that he probably doesn't even know what it feels like.

I feel something wet against my shoulder and figure that he's crying again, so I start to rock him gently back and forth, and rub his back. He calms down under my ministrations after a while, but I don't stop rocking. For just a little while longer, I'll show him what it means to be taken care of.

For the rest of the day, we dance around each other awkwardly. Uncle Harry called and said that I don't have to come in today, something that doesn't surprise me at all. Sam doesn't seem to have to go anywhere, either, and I wonder if anyone even knows he's back. Besides me and the few people who know everything I don't.

We don't talk about our fight, or how he tried to use sexual means to distract me. We don't talk about his crying, or me crying. We just… cuddle. On the couch. And talk about my parents, and school, and work, and everything he's been missing out on for the past two weeks or so. I mention my trip to Port Angeles and how Emeric talked me into staying before I realize the mistake I made.

"Who's Emeric?" he says, his voice low, but somehow wildly curious.

"This guy I met on my first trip into Port Angeles a few weeks ago. We stayed in touch," I say, lightly, hoping that my tone will calm him. It doesn't.

"Funny. You never mentioned him," he says, the tenseness of his body betraying his casual tone.

"He's becoming a friend," I say, uneasily. I know why I haven't said anything about Emeric before now. It's because of this. I've never been comfortable with the jealous boyfriend type, and I didn't know how Sam would react.

He seems to sense my anxiety because he stops talking about it, and instead tightens his hold ever so slightly on my person. I don't know whether to roll my eyes or breathe a sigh of relief. I'm grateful when he changes the subject.

"So, besides Jared…" he says, hesitantly, "there's going to be another guy helping out with the council. He'll probably be hanging out around here, too, once he gets more comfortable with us. … If that's okay with you."

I nod. "Sure, why wouldn't it be?"

Sam sighs. "Paul has a temper. It just makes me nervous to think of him coming around you."

I kiss him on the cheek, surprising him and myself. "It's up to you whether he comes around here or not," I say, blushing a bit. "It's your house, Sam."

"Ours," he says, returning my kiss with one of his own. On my lips. He gives me a look afterwards as if he's making sure it's okay.

"Ours," I agree, and he smiles –

- smiles that make me nervous and I don't know what to think about him. From the way Sam was talking, I didn't expect to actually meet him so soon. It's the very same day, just later, and he just showed up to the house without warning.

"Hi Em-i-ly," he says, grinning. His gaze slides over to Sam, who is openly glaring at him, and then back to me as if Sam doesn't faze him at all.

"Nice to meet you," I say, awkwardly, then I – hopefully, unnoticeably – edge closer behind Sam, who is framed in the doorway. My heart is beating faster, and as if Paul can hear it, he grins even wider.

"That's enough," Sam says in a low voice. I turn to him. He's staring daggers at Paul, and it's clear to see that his anger is just barely contained. "Do you have a reason for being here?"

Paul glances at me again. "Just wanted to see if Em-i-ly was as hot in person as she is in your – "

Before he can finish the sentence, Sam reaches out faster than I would think was possible and pushes him off the front porch. Paul's cocky smile disappears as he lands butt-first in the dirt. His face becomes a mask of viciousness and his body starts to shake visibly, almost violently. I stare at him in shock, wondering what's going on, if he's having some sort of seizure. Then, he suddenly stops.

"Go home, Paul," Sam says, teeth clenched, and in a voice so authoritative that I turn to stare at him. What authority does he have over Paul, other than the fact that he's older?

But whatever he has, it must be good, because Paul immediately obeys him without question. He glares at him, but he listens.

Sam comes inside a few seconds later and shakes his head. "He's more trouble than he's worth," he mutters.

"What was that all about?" I ask nervously, unsure if I'll get an answer. Why did he come by specifically to meet me?

He just looks at me. My heart sinks. I don't want to have this argument again. I wonder if this means Paul is in on the secrets now, too. It stings to imagine so..

Without a word I go into the kitchen and search for a snack. I don't hear him follow me, so I jump two warm hands encircle my waist and hug me from behind.

"I'll tell you," he mumbles.

I freeze. Then I twist in his arms until I'm facing him.

"What?" I say, unsure if I've heard correctly.

"I'll tell you everything. You're right. It's not fair that you don't know, especially if you're going to be living with me. I'll tell you where I go, what I do… everything. Harry thinks it's safer for you if you know… he's right." He leans down and rests his forehead against mine and closes his eyes.

I want to snap at him. Obviously, he's only telling me because Harry thinks he needs to tell me, but I don't want to give him a reason to withhold any information. So I bite my tongue.

"So… tell me," I say, uncertainly.

"Give me time," he says, opening his eyes and pulling away.

"Sam," I sigh.

"Emily, I'm afraid," he begs. "I'm worried you won't want to be with me anymore, so please just give me a little time."

I stare at him. A large part of me is surprised that he admitted to being scared so easily. He regards me with worried eyes. I can't imagine what could be this bad, but suddenly, I'm getting worried. Maybe it really is something illegal. Maybe I don't want to know… but I do. I really, really want to know. Especially if it's something I could potentially help Sam with.

"After my parents leave," I compromise. "After this weekend. As soon as they get in their car and drive away."

He nods.

- FadingSlowly