A/N: I just want to to let you know that there will be no a/n at the end of this chapter - I think you just need to let some things sink in. This is a long one to make up for my unforgivable neglect. But this story NEEDS to get finished. So I hope you enjoy and please forgive me for any typos. True to form, I'm updating this in the middle of the night. Is there any other way? =D

2,592,404...5...6 seconds. That's how long it had been since I'd last seen Seth. 43,829 minutes. 730 hours. 4 weeks. 30 days.

A month.

It became harder and harder not to climb the walls with every passing day. I had so much to say, so much anxiety and grief and anger because he'd left me to deal with it all on my own. Seth was - or rather had been - my best friend and there was no one else I was willing to open up to quite like I did with him. I'd been asked and asked and asked if I was all right but I got tired just thinking of all the things that weren't okay. So I'd just act like I was.

The thing that made it worse was that there was nothing I could do about it. Seth was actively avoiding me. He didn't answer his cell when I called and his mother, Sue, always made some transparent excuse whenever I called his house. It was maddening.

I hadn't spent an entire month sitting by the phone, though. Jasper, with some coaxing, had been teaching me to fight and, as he'd pointed out, the new-found personal discipline helped me keep an iron control over my unusual gift. It had taken a lot of prolonged concentration - I refused to call it meditating - but it appeared to be working for the most part, although sometimes I found it hard to banish unwanted thoughts with nothing to act as a distraction.

Whiskers was returned to his owners just as we were beginning to get along. We weren't best friends or anything but he took a few seconds more to run away from me than he had with anyone else. I considered that a breakthrough.

I'd also taken to drawing, lately. I wasn't bad at it, either. There was a stack of drawings sitting on my nightstand, growing bigger and messier by the day. If I was being completely honest, I'd say it had become a bit compulsive. Whenever I started thinking or worrying about Seth, which was quite often, I'd pick up any paper I could find and draw until my emotions were buried beneath a fresh stack of papers. Until I stopped dwelling on the fact that I hadn't seen Seth in 2,592,481...82...83...

"Esme," I sighed with amused exasperation, pressing the end of the pencil against my temple, "Will you please hold still?"

She laughed, musically. "I'm trying, honey," she said, her amber-colored eyes dancing with humor, "but these flowers won't plant themselves."

This, spending time with Esme, had become habitual, too. Most times, like now, I found myself sitting in her garden behind the house as she tended to the plants. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn't - Esme seemed to enjoy my company either way.

Of course, I enjoyed hers, too. More than just the serenity that seemed to come off of her in waves, she had a quiet understanding of people in general. She knew when I needed to get out and do something and when I just needed to be. She knew never to try to hold a conversation with me while I was drawing and was patient with me on days when my moods seems to fluctuate from one extreme to the next at the drop of a hat. When I was with Esme, I could escape my problems, even if it was only a little while.

"I really wish I could paint," I said, setting the pencil and stack of papers down in the grass, "Your hair looks so beautiful in this lighting."

Esme's hands froze in the act of digging a hole with a small shovel. "I can paint," she murmured, not seeming to realize she'd spoken aloud. She looked up

"I can paint," she said to me, "I paint all the time. I could teach you!" She looked at me sheepishly. "If you'd like."

How could I say no? Esme was always looking for new things for us to do together, always wanting to keep me busy, fearing that if I got bored I would want to leave for good this time. Even if this wasn't the case, I've found that it's near impossible to deny Esme anything. Plus, I really did want to paint.

"Sure, Esme," I smiled, "I'd love to."

Her face lit up beautifully and she let out a peal of infectious laughter before she gathered me up in her arms and swung me back and forth, wildly. I returned the embrace with equal exuberance and laughed into her soft curls. Her rocking slowed and she pulled back to look at me with a smile that was a bit sad.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," she sighed, tucking back a stray lock of my hair, "I just haven't heard you laugh in a while. Sometimes I wonder if you're entirely happy, here."

Esme wasn't oblivious to my personal problems with Seth but I knew that wasn't what she was referring to. Of course, I wasn't happy with that situation. Still, I knew I had other things to be extremely grateful for.

"Esme," I sighed in return, my smile fading, "This new life, this being a vampire is not easy for me. There are some people that were born for this but I wasn't. I used to feel guilty for days if I so much as killed a spider and now I wouldn't think twice if a human walk across my path."

Her expression grew more and more somber with every word and I tried to conjure up a bit of the smile she'd brought out of me a moment ago.

"But I came here," I added, "for a reason. And I only wanted to learn to control my appetite but I got so much more than that. I've got friends - family, even."

She gave a wobbly smile and placed a gentle hand on my cheek. I put my hand over hers and leaned into her palm.

"And it's still not easy. But I love it, here. I'm happy, Esme, I am."

She looked like she wanted to say something and she might have if it weren't for the low, gutteral groan of pain that cut through the air just then.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Esme jumped up and tilted her head to the side slightly, listening. I listened to from my place in the grass and easily picked up the sound of voices approaching fast. I caught the distinct scent of the pack on the wind.

"He's healing too fast."

Someone stumbled. Another groan.

"We're almost there."

My entire body tensed up, frozen with dread. The wolves were coming. And someone was hurt.

"Esme," I said because I didn't know what else to do.

Keeping her eyes on the trees, Esme reached down and hauled me to my feet, turning in the direction of the sliding glass doors.

"Get in the house. Now."

I obeyed, my legs numb. I was already halfway there by the time she started to follow. She was behind me in a flash, taking my elbow and propelling me through the door and into the kitchen. She strided briskly to the living room.

"Carlisle," she said.

"I'm here." And he was suddenly standing at the bottom of the stairs, rolling up his shirts sleeves as if she had conjured him there. His eyes fell on me and the words that had escaped me outside came tumbling forth.

"Carlisle," I blurted, "You have to do something. The pack is coming and somebody is wounded and it could be - it could be -"

I let out an audible sigh as my erratic thoughts were buried under a layer of artificial calm when Jasper walked passed with Emmett in tow. Carlisle squeezed my shoulder gently.

"Just try to stay calm, Kendra," he murmured before going to stand by the door with the others.

I didn't want to be calm, though. I backed up until my heels touched the bottom step and grabbed the banister for support - it was unrealistic to think it could provide me any but I needed to hold on to something.

The front door swung open and I wasn't surprised when Bella walked in first, her expression grim. She led Jacob and Embry into the living area, where they deposited an injured Quil onto the couch. His bones, twisted at undoubtedly painful, unnatural angles was a gory sight but that wasn't what made my eyes fly wide.

All of Quill's flesh wounds were healed but he had been bleeding and no one had thought to clean it up before they brought him here, into the home of a newborn vampire.

Werewolf blood was strange and didn't call to me the same way human blood did. I was able to withstand the wolves' presence and could even stand in close proximity with them without batting and eyelash. Still, blood was blood and the sight of it beckoned to my inner predator, turning my thoughts dark and violent.

I struggled to think through the red haze and squeezed my eyes shut to banish the image of gushing blood and beating hearts from my mind. There was a sudden loud crunching sound and I was vaguely aware of the banister giving way under my vise-like grip. I didn't care. I refused to lose control. Not here. Not now.

A searing hot hand was suddenly on mine, prying my fingers from the splintering wood. As soon as my hand was free, I whipped around and dashed up the stairs, getting to my bedroom in seconds. I laid a hand on my stomach, my head swimming with relief and the resulting guilt, concern, fear - too many things.

"You okay?"

I whirled around with a yelp and backed straight into my nightstand, sending all of my drawings fluttering to the floor. Seth closed the door softly and bent to pick a few up. I stared with wide eyes as he examined them. His hair was longer.

"These are really good," he said quietly. His eyes found their way to mine and darted away after a moment. How hadn't I noticed him coming?

"Thanks," I choked.

I struggled to keep it together as my heart rejoiced at Seth's presence while my mind simultaneously asked Why didn't you come sooner? I've never seen Seth quite like this, with his brown eyes dark with the pain every pack member probably felt as a result of Quill's injury. There was also the same resentment I felt, accompanied by the undeniable joy we both felt at finally seeing each other again. I took a breath and opened my mouth to speak.

"Listen -"

"I really -"

There was a long pause. The sounds of people moving about the house and Quill's pained moans filled the room and I wanted to scream. Seth let out a humorless laugh, rubbing his forehead. "You first," he said.

"Fine."

It didn't take me long to realize I had nothing to say.

In the next second I was across the room, my arms wrapped around Seth's neck, holding on for dear life. Seth rocked back on his heels but his arms went around me immediately. For a few glorious moments, wrapped in heat, I felt grounded after weeks of emotional chaos. My breaths were coming fast and short. Seth exhaled slowly. His pulse beat fast against my cheek. Mine didn't beat at all.

"I'm so mad at you," I said thickly.

Another slow breath. "I know," he whispered into my hair.

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

We stayed like that for a few moments more, clutching to each other as if one of us were dying. It was killing me, knowing this month would always be between us, reminding us how different we were. Could Seth have changed in the 30 days we hadn't spoken? Had I?

I was the first to pull away but still stood in the circle of Seth's arms. His eyes held mine and I felt like more was being communicated in this shared look than any conversation we would ever have. Neither of us tried to speak.

Somewhere on the third floor, there was a sharp snap and Quil's scream pierced the air. Seth's eyes flew wide and I expected him to run out of the room to aid him. Instead, without quite looking at me, he pulled me back into his arms. I stroked his hair, hoping he would find comfort in my touch.

"What happened to Quil?" I asked gently.

His arms tightened around my waist and I sensed the slightest bit of hesitation before he answered, "Vampire."

I frowned. "Did you catch them?"

I didn't really like the idea of somebody - vampire or other - dying but I wasn't stupid. Not everybody was like Carlisle and his family. Not everybody was like I was trying to be.

"She got away after she smashed Quil into a huge rock. She's fast."

"Is she the same one -"

"Kendra. Please. Can we not talk about it?"

That was strange.

I pulled back and searched Seth's face. His eyes never met mine. I tried to discern something from the tense set of his lips or the frown creasing his brow or the darting of his eyes. All it told me was that something wasn't right.

"Alright."

I backed slowly to the bed and sat down, watching as he looked around the room, turning in a slow circle. He laughed wearily. "I feel like I haven't seen your room in years."

I nodded. I wondered if he knew that exactly 2,592,493 seconds had gone by in his absence. I was just about to ask when his entire body suddenly tensed up, his eyes falling on something in the corner of the room. I squinted in confusion and followed his gaze to a black messenger bag - the same one I'd worn when I'd ran of to Seattle a month ago. It had been sitting in the same spot I'd discarded it since that night. I scrambled to my feet and snatched it up.

"Um," I cleared my throat, "I'll just put this -"

"What's in it?"

I paused and gave Seth a wary look. I didn't talk about my family or my life before this to anybody, not even Seth. I was sure Edward knew bits and pieces - that was unavoidable - but I knew I hid it well, mostly because some parts were a bit fuzzy to me. It wasn't that I really felt the need to hide it anymore but I wasn't one to dwell on the past and I didn't like to talk about it. Nonetheless, this was Seth and maybe this would help him understand why I'd needed to go home.

With a small shrug, I opened the zipper and spilled the contents of the bag onto the bed. A few loose pictures, a small shard of shiny black wood, a photo album and a tiny golden bracelet tumbled out and we sat down on either side of the pile. Seth picked up the wood first.

"That's a piece of a piano we used to have," I said quietly, "I remember being really upset when we...got rid of it."

He put it down without addressing my slight hesitation and picked up the bracelet. He turned it over in his hands and read my name on the slim plate that linked the two chains together before reaching out to try to put it on my wrist. It induced a strange feeling to see the gold against my skin as it was now, pale and unblemished.

"It hasn't fit since since I was five," I laughed a little hysterically.

"Well, you haven't grown much."

He was right. The bracelet almost fit but not quite. He put it down and we started looking through the photos scattered on the bed. I told him about all of my old friends and fought down a feeling of intense nostalgia when my best friend, Heather, started popping up in pictures. The hazy image of her I'd kept in my head sharpened and I knew I would never forget her again. I let out a heavy sigh, relieved.

"Kendra, look at this."

I took the photo a wide-eyed Seth handed to me with a questioning look.

It was another one of Heather, her blonde hair windblown and a wide smile on her face. The picture was so closely cropped that you could barely see any background but it was easy to tell the picture had been taken in the evening. The thing that really caught my eye, though - the thing that had probably made Seth's jaw drop like it had - was the second girl in the picture, standing with her arm around Heather.

It was me.

I was completely thrown by the color in my cheeks and the green in my eyes and the smile on my face. It felt like forever since I'd looked in the mirror and seen this face staring back. That face was flawed, those eyes were oblivious, that Kendra was human. I put the photo on the bed faced down, feeling a strange sense of vertigo.

"I don't remember when that was," I swallowed, "I didn't even realize I'd brought it here. Where did you -"

I glanced up to find that Seth was looking at me with a look almost like the one he'd given me when he'd walked into this room but this wasn't that strange mix of anger and happiness. This was more confusion and...dread.

"Is there something you want to talk about?" I paused. "And don't say no."

He sighed in surrender, not seeming to have the energy to keep it to himself any longer. "You know the vampire? The one that attacked Quil?"

I immediately knew not expect anything good to come out of this conversation. "Yeah," I said slowly, "What about her?"

He grimaced and averted his eyes, choosing instead to look out the window into the trees he'd just emerged from. His heart rate sped up and noticing the change suddenly made the sound loud in my ears.

"It was weird, Kay," he murmured, "She...well. She looked like you."

I wasn't expecting that. "She looked like me," I repeated blankly.

He nodded slowly.

What? I shook my head, at a loss. "I don't know what to tell you," I said honestly, baffled, "You know I would never - "

"No, no, no," he interrupted, his words coming fast and desperate, "I know it wasn't you, she was too old to be you. But she looked like you. That's how she got to Quil - she surprised us. I swear; the hair, the eyes. She even scrunched up her face the way you do when you're confused."

He dropped his face into his hands abruptly. I stared at him for a long moment with a growing sense of alarm. He was serious and all this was starting to sound extremely familiar.

I snatched up the untouched photo album and began flipping frantically through the pages. Years of history blurred before my eyes and I was aware of Seth peering through his fingers, his gaze pinballing between me and the book. I stopped somewhere towards the end and handed him the book, pointing to a picture at the bottom left corner of the second page. His face went ashen.

"Is that her?" My voice was barely a whisper. I already knew the answer.

Seth stared down at the picture, his expression devoid of all emotion, though his greenish complexion gave him away. "Who is that?"

I looked at the picture, too, suddenly possessed by an inexplicable calm.

"That's my aunt," I breathed, "Aunt Melanie."