AN: Wow. 16 reviews? Thank you. Thank you. Sorry for taking me so long to update. To make it up, here's a longer chapter for all of you. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I will never own Twilight. Second, I would not be making any money by writing this fic. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably inlove with a cuddly werewolf named Jacob Black.

The Valued Necklace

***

"Seth, if you don't put that shirt down, I swear to God, I would rip your big throat out." I bellowed, pushing more clothes in my duffel bag.

Seth, the annoying puppy, didn't listen. He shuffled the remnants of my dwarf-like closet, looked the clothes over, and then threw them right in front of my face, making me smell pungent odor of my old, worn clothes. He clucked his tongue as a puff of dirt, coming from the stacks of my ancient backpacks lined up in an untidy row, blew out in a threatening smoke.

"Jeez, Leah. If you're going to Aunt Madella with these kinda things, she will bust a nerve, I'm sure about that." He pointed out, rubbing his left eye vigorously, probably because some freaky closet dirt flew right into his eye. He blinked rapidly like a lost hippo then rubbed it even more, turning his copper skin into a swollen red. I just love how karma works.

I huffed. Can't a girl just pack some things peacefully? And by peacefully I meant without the interference of a younger brother that was forced by a very strict mother to help with the packing. I forced the kid to get out at first, with a few muttered cussing accompanied of course, but he just wouldn't budge. His reason? I don't even know.

But, I grudgingly admit, he was right, as usual.

Aunt Madella would sure pop a vein if she sees the mess my clothes are making. In this lazy time, nobody actually cares if one's messy, or the other's a clean freak. But Madella sure as hell do. She has OCD—a very, very severe case of OCD.

There was this one time when I "accidentally" smudged ice cream all over her carpet. Boy, she was mad. Mad is actually an understatement, more like outraged and fire shooting through her eyes. The next thing I knew, her plump body was off to the kitchen, finding a mop that was worn out from use. She held it like some weapon, glaring at us every moment with her beady, black eyes. To prove her weirdness, she even threatened us with that stick, saying she'll spank us with it.

She spent all her afternoon scrubbing the carpet, muttering about "messy… teens… stupid." I didn't have in myself to actually care what her sentence was actually about.

Seth gasped and a loud tumbling crash, sounding like rusty metal, resonated throughout my messy room, snapping me out of my flashbacks. I snapped my head around, and saw Seth kneeling down in the wooden floor with an upside down, brown, metal box. My box. My opened, metal box. He flipped it and papers came flowing at it in huge numbers.

I growled. "Put that down!"

Scattered around him was a dozen of pictures, different-colored envelopes, and a necklace. Instead of arranging them, like any good brother should do, he started to inspect them—started to inspect the damn pictures. He looked it over once more, and then I saw his eyes shift from mere curiosity, to anger, then to pity.

My hands started to shake, feeling the inner monster in me peeking for its release. I didn't need his pity. I didn't need anyone's pity. I strode towards him with a growl then lifted all the scattered pictures back to the brown box, trying desperately to calm myself.

"Go away, Seth."

"But—"

"Give me a moment." I said in a low, threatening voice. "You would regret it if you don't."

"I'm so sorry, Leah."

I nodded, too angry to respond. I heard the slamming of the door as Seth vanished from my sight.

The brown, metal box was looking at me straight in the eye as I held it in my hands. The box was heavy even though it was only the size of a shoe box. I flipped it open and found scented papers with Sam's messy scrawl on it. The silver glow of the moon whispered through my window, catching a gleam of light in my box. I shuffled for it, and found a necklace. A silver necklace.

Unlike all the stuffs in these box, mostly Sam's notes of how much he loved me, this couldn't be burned. This was forever imprinted in my heart, signifying a lost part in it. This came from my father, just hours before he died.

***

I entered room 243 with deliberate slowness as I let out a long breath. I stepped inside the sickening smell of the hospital room, tears prickling in my eyes as the scene of my father exhaling a painful sigh caught my vision. Odd looking tubes connected to his different body parts, making my very strong Dad suddenly seem very… weak. It hurt me to see him like this—so vulnerable, so breakable.

This is all my fault. This is all my fault.

My chest tightened and I forced myself to take in gulps of air, my body shaking in agony. If only I didn't become a monster. If only I didn't become that damned werewolf. If only I could lessen some of his burden, share it with me.

This is all my fault.

If only I didn't provoke Seth. If only I didn't shift after he did. If only…

I closed the door and jammed myself into the metal chair, close enough that I could count my dad's black lashes. But that could be because of my heightened senses. New sharp sight, strong sense of smell. But I didn't want any of this. Having advance senses is nothing to my desire--no, need--to bring my life back to normal. Bring everything the way it should be.

I intertwined our fingers and slumped my head on the side of the bed, my head resting on my dad's hips.

My dad's breathing turned more labored, more strained, and I have to bite my lip from screaming in pain. Too much. Too much. First Sam, now my Dad. What did I do to deserve this?

My father often told me that all these obstacles were symbols of God's test of my trust in his judgments. My question was… why me? There were too many criminals in this world, who have done far more worse things than I have, who always got away with things. They became rich, luxurious and, most importantly, happy. Where was the fairness in that? I just want to love and be loved, nothing else. Is it too much to ask just for a little happiness for once? Too much to ask little time enough for me to dodge some of the problems? If there was a God, he sure is not being fair with me.

Everything—Sam, my father's health—was stripped away from me with a painful yank by this stupid werewolf abnormalities.

The pressure in my intertwined hand increased and it took me a second to realize that my dad was squeezing my hand back… feebly. So soft it was that if not for my increase sensitivity, I wouldn't have felt it at all.

A weak, hoarse voice echoed softly throughout the bright room.

"Leah?"

I froze.

"Dad?" I choked, watching my dad offer me a weak smile that always calmed me when I was little.

He patted my hand and his face crumpled into a rueful grimace, drawing another labored breath. I bolted up and was ready to call the nurse when my dad stopped me.

"No. no wait. We need to talk, honey. Call the nurse later."

"But-"
"Leah," He interrupted, smiling weakly. "I'm fit as a fiddle. Come back here in your seat and let's you and your old man have a nice little talk."

My body protested. I should call the nurse, check if he was okay. I should have, but I couldn't deny anything my dad wished for. This could probably be his last request. At this knowledge, my chest tightened and I have to bite my lip again to refrain from making any unnecessary sounds.

I plopped back towards the seat with weight that seemed to drag me down, pulling me to the ocean's depths of agony. I placed my dad's hand on my cheek, seeking his comfort.

He studied my tear-streaked eyes and also frowned.

"Leah, I know this is confusing for you." He soothed with his rich voice, patting my cheek. "But I'm probably more confused than you are. Who would have thought that my little girl would become the only female protector of our tribe. Never in my wildest dreams -"

"Dad," I whimpered, cutting him off, "I'm okay. Don't worry about me. I'll survive. How about you? How are you feeling?"

He rolled his eyes and the sight comforted me a little. "I'm better than okay. Just a little heart malfunction is all. I'll survive. I always do."

"You better!" I warned brokenly, my voice quavering in strange places. "I would be so pissed if you don't keep your promise."

He nodded, his eyes almost closed. "Hmmmm.."

"I should probably call the nurse."

"No." He declared and forced his eyes to open. "I'm okay. I know I have something important to tell you. You can call all the doctors and nurses for all I care afterwards. Just wait for a second. Please."

With my Dad begging like this request would cost his life, the impulse to obey him strengthened and I fought myself to sit back down.

"You need anything?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Can you get my black wallet in the blue bag right on top the table?"

Wallet? He barely even touched the thing when he was healthy and well. Why would he possibly want it?

"Dad, w—"

He pursed his lips and sighed. "Just do it honey, you'll soon find out later."

I doubtfully complied and dragged myself out of the chair. I zipped the blue bag open and soon found the feather-weight, black wallet.

I flipped it back to back, searching for suspicious things. I found none, just small cracks of leather almost falling out.

Dad chuckled softly and I relished the sound. "There's no drugs in there, if you ask me." He wheezed. "Come here, Leah, give it to me. I have something for you."

"Dad, if this is one of your fishing coupons, forget about it." I grumbled, landing with a thump in the metal chair, handing him the wallet.

"What kind of a father do you think I am?" He snorted, yanking the wallet out of my desperate grasp. He opened it painfully slow as if to tease me and I extended my neck to peek, too curious what the big deal is. Dad weakly grinned at me and pushed my nose back with his index finger, plunging me back to my chair. "You've got to wait, honey. Patience is a virtue." He clucked.

"Dad." I groaned. "What is this about?"

He shook his head, chuckling. "You're too curious for your own good."

Just to spare me more theatrics, he finally opened up the wallet and got something shiny out of the last pocket. Something so incredibly beautiful that I know I would treasure in my heart forever.

A silver crescent necklace dangled on my Dad's copper hand, glinting with its flawless beauty. Dad extended his hand to me and smiled again.

"Here."

I looked at my dad's hand, not believing. "For me?" I gasped.

He nodded and rolled his eyes as if I was too stupid not to figure it out.

"No." He muttered sarcastically. "It's Seth's. Of course it yours. Now take it."

He opened up his palm and I picked the silver jewelry, examining it. I twisted it around and around, my eyes probably wide in awe.

I smiled at my dad and gave him an awkward one-armed hug and he returned it with decrepit strength. I was not always good at expressing my emotions; it often leads to misunderstandings and often arguments.

I placed the necklace on the bed, not taking my eyes off it. My dad was smiling softly as if he was enjoying my temporary happiness. I leaned forward, holding my dad's hands.

"Thank you so much." I muttered sincerely. "I love it dad."

"Glad you do."

A companionable silence ensued and I was afraid that he fell asleep again. Seeing him in peaceful dormancy always gave me the painful vision of him not waking up again, not breathing, and turning into a lifeless corpse. Stupid as it is, I was afraid of sleep, and I haven't allowed myself to rest even for a second. Every tick of the clock held vague importance to my Dad's life. It was the string that attached our time left together in this corrupt place called Earth.

The crescent necklace shone brightly, mocking me with its beauty. Why is he giving me this? Is this some kind of a subtle way to say that he would be leaving soon? Is the necklace some kind of a remembrance of his memories? What if I was right? Is he going to leave me? My heart pounded faster as I squeezed his hand stronger, enough to get a better feel of his skin, but not enough that I could break his brittle bones by my new found strength.

His eyes were half-closed, sleep soon overtaking him.

"Dad?"

He cocked his head sideways to get a better look of me, his face always twisted into a warm smile.

"Hmmmm?"

"Why?" I asked, suspicion and doubt sweeping in my voice.

He cocked his head slightly to one side, his eyes squinting. "What do you mean why?"

"Why are you giving me the necklace?" I continued, my voice increasing a note. "Why not give it to Mom? She would be happier if you gave her this. Why me? Why-"
"Leah, breathe." He chuckled, interrupting my full-blown questions.

I scowled at him, not appreciating his effort to lighten my mood. Dad seemed to get the point.

He cast his eyes upward, sighing softly, suddenly thoughtful. "My grandmother gave it to my mom, and in return, my mom gave it to me."

"Your mom? Grandma Gregoria?" I tried to confirm, shocked.

He nodded. "She was one hell of a woman. You know that." And I sure did. "Did you know that she was a subject of an imprinter's affections?"

"Gregoria? She was?"
Dad shook his head. "Not Gregoria. My grandmother, Katalina, is."

"So my great-grandma was kind of a wolf's mate?"

"That is exactly right."

"Wait." I stroked my chin, confused. "I thought Levi Uley, Quil Ateara and Ephraim Black were the only werewolves before us, and I'm pretty sure all of them didn't wed a Clearwater."

"You don't know about that story yet. One of them did imprint on someone. It is a tragic story, honey. That's why it was not always told on bonfires. It makes us relieve of the painful past." He smiled again, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "And to answer your question, there were werewolves before Ephraim's pack. Ephraim was the last chief of the Quileute tribe. It doesn't mean that there were no werewolves before him."

"How come I didn't know about this?"

Dad rolled his eyes again. "Leah, you shifted two days ago, they only explained the basics to you: treaty, Cullens, your new strengths." He half-closed his eyes. "You would learn all the history of the tribe as you go along."

"You tired, Dad?"

"Not yet." He was obviously lying by the way his tone came flat.

"No, you need to rest."

He managed a weak smile. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

Despite my objections to keep him talking and wasting his energy, deep inside of me, I do want to hear his stories. Dad has always had a way with me that way. His voice held so much sureness and wisdom that you unknowingly gravitate to him and stick with him until he finishes his story.

I scoffed when my dad gave a knowing grin and I grudgingly nodded.

"Fine." I grunted. "But after this, you need to rest Dad."

He gave a susceptible nod. "Katalina, as my mom describes her, was timid, reserve, and just keeps everything to herself. She came from the South originally, but as she discovered that the North had better paying jobs, she migrated her in Washington. In La Push specifically."

"Dad, no offense, but I don't really know who she is and I really don't care about her whereabouts."

Dad shushed me, waving his hand as if to brush my protests off. "I know that. Lemme finish the story. Okay?"

I nodded, more suspicious about Dad's motivations as every second passed.

Dad cleared his throat. "Well, she's a vital part why the vampire and wolves hate each other so much. Katalina was an imprintee—if you can even call her that. Specifically, she was Old Quil's imprint."

I gasped, shell-shocked. "Old Quil? Quil's great grandfather? The one that tells the stories on bonfires?"

Dad nodded. "Yes. And please, darling, let me finish first. I'm an old man, I don't have that much energy to speak. But you have to know this. You have to."

I nodded sheepishly, encouraging him to go on.

"Long story short, they met and Quil told her about the imprinting legend. Katalina and him, were in love… well, every imprint couples are supposed to be inlove." He mused and my heart ached as I remembered Emily and Sam. "They made a family, hence my mom and my uncle. My mom, Gregoria, and her brother, Henry, were five and eight years old respectively when out of nowhere a vampire attacked them. Katalina wasn't afraid; she faced the vampire with cold composure. She would gladly risk her life to divert the vampire's attention away from her family. Old Quil, being a territorial werewolf, tried to defend her. Just as he was about to shift—with Ephraim and Levi also shifting far away to offer him help—the vampire took advantage and snapped her neck, awfully killing her."

"Why did the leech did that?" I accused hotly. "Why her? Why risk his life in killing a human that was protected by a werewolf?"

Dad sighed. "That's the mystery honey."

My hands trembled. "Damn bloodsuckers." I growled. "They always ruin everything. Why couldn't they just give as a favor and kill themselves? Their damned existence shouldn't ruin others."

Dad cleared his throat and glared at me. "Leah…" he warned.

"Right. Right. No talking. Got it."

"Anyways," he muttered, "just before she was killed, my mom told me that she and Henry were in the kitchen, huddling close to each other. Katalina refused to leave Quil's side even though she knew it would cost her life. Minutes before she died, she threw this necklace to my mom, saying she love her so much. This necklace not only symbolizes love and sacrifice, but also nobility and courageousness."

Ah, the love of a mom to her kids. So passionate. My mom was a strict woman, composed all the time, but I know that she loves me the same way as I love her. Maybe even more.

But happened to the widowed wolf though?

"Why is Old Quil still alive?" I asked sincerely. "He's old, Dad. Shouldn't he feel empty that his imprint died? I heard that when their other half cease to exist, they're better off dead."

Dad looked uncomfortable. "Old Quil dedicated his long life in raising my mom and Uncle. But I know he's just waiting for the right time to find the horrendous vampire and kill it himself."

I nodded. That made sense. Old Quil was waiting for his revenge. But that didn't mean it was sensible. The vampire was youthful forever and he was a wrinkly, old man. How could he kill it?

Now I know it was true then, imprinting does make you lose your mind.

A question brewed in my head, waiting to be asked.

"Dad?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why didn't the vampire kill Quil himself?"
"Well," Dad replied, "Ephraim and Levi got there on time, you could say that. The vampire was too cowardly to face three vicious wolves. It fled, and because of his head start, they didn't get the chance to catch and kill it themselves."

I cracked my knuckles, my face contorted in determination. "I could take revenge for him. I'm strong and fast enough to do that. Do you know what it looks like?"

Dad shook his head. "I asked Old Quil that question years ago. Due to his age, he forgot obviously—he would remember if he sees it again though. I remembered him saying that it was a male, with long black hair. That's all he could remember."

The necklace shone again and my attention quickly snapped to the glowing jewelry.

"So why are you exactly giving me the necklace? You could keep it if you want. Your mom gave it to you, so I know that it has a sentimental value."

"I know that, honey," he sighed. "You're more suited, I think. You just remind me of Katalina: brave, fearless, and strong. Well, that doesn't even give you justice. You're Leah… Leah Clearwater. Boy, every father's dream is to have a baby girl that doesn't take crap from anybody. It makes me proud to be a Clearwater somewhat."

Tears built up at his sweet words. "Dad, any daughter would be glad to have a father as cool as you. Just hang on with me for a moment, okay?"

He nodded.

We talked endlessly for a long moment, chattering from my childhood, to my feelings about being a werewolf. Everything.

I was surprised that I was actually starved for a normal human conversation. No vampires. No werewolves. Just father and daughter bond.

After few more hours or so, I felt my eyes droop. I gave Dad an appraising gaze and smiled when he snored loudly. My eyes felt heavier and later fell into an endless sleep, but not before I gave my last wish...

Lord, please save my Dad. Heal him. Please.

I should have known that I would be ended up disappointed…again.

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Next Chapter: The Journey