The Twilight Series belongs to S. Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just playing with the characters.

Like it had before—reality crept in. Its harsh light made it impossible to not face some truths. Things neither of them were ready to. But that was the thing about reality; it was always there, lingering behind the hazy masquerade of their wishes and dreams.

He felt her pulling away and so he let her go. The words he promised wouldn't leave his lips, did. "I'm sorry. I—we shouldn't have."

A look of horror crossed her features at his words. He frowned, trying and failing to grasp what was so wrong about what he said. Granted, no one wanted to hear someone apologize after what they had done together. But if anything he was apologizing for taking advantage of the situation—of her.

"Oh my gosh. I can't...we..." she trailed off. Her knees covering her chest as she held onto them and rocked back and forth.

He moved closer to her and touched her shoulder, trying to soothe her rising anxiety. She jerked away from his touch. His hands raked through his hair.

"Leah, please, listen to me—I didn't mean it, not the way you're taking it."

"How I'm taking it? How am I supposed to take it? You—me—dammit. You told me Emily was different. How? Different like the rest of them? Kim, Rachel, Bella, Claire, and whatever-her-name is—the tall one from Forks. You never answered my question."

He glanced away from her but not before she caught the look of guilt on his face. "Tell me," she demanded, smacking his arm. "What are you hiding from me? Or is it like Emily said? That I'm nothing more than a whore—first I cheated on Sam and now—I've made you do the same."

"I never wanted this," he growled back at her; pushing himself up so he could pace. He needed a release for his growing agitation. "Do you think I went to bed one night and asked for my life to become a living nightmare?"

"I didn't say that!" she screamed in frustration at him; rising up so she could stand directly in front of him. Her finger poked his chest as she once again demanded, "Tell me how it's different!"

His gaze turning pained as he struggled to get the words out. How did he explain things that were even more fucked up than turning into a giant wolf? More unreal than the reason for their creation. He wasn't expecting the sharp sting of her hand against his face and despite the anger he knew was behind it; despite the anger it roused in him—he managed to keep his human form.

Her voice filled with venom and vitriol, "Do you think I'm stupid? I can count and as secretive as you think your little group is; it's not. One-by-one, the ants go marching one-by-one," she finished in a sing-song voice.

"And for each new member, another whore was added. You're the one who said they were different. Not like me. Which means not like you either—so what does it mean?"

"It means there's more to it. Things I don't even truly understand."

"You must understand some of it," she said, her voice softer this time.

He was finding it difficult to concentrate given their lack of clothing and recent activities. Crouching down he released the tie that held his shorts. For once, he had brought a shirt with too. Frowning, he wondered if subconsciously he knew this was going to happen. Handing the shirt to her, she reluctantly grasped it; staring at it for several long moments before pulling it over her head. While she was thinking about whether to don the shirt he had pulled his shorts on.

Once they were decently covered, he faced her fully and kept his eyes trained on hers. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out when and where to start. How to explain that he had a soul mate hand-picked by some wolf god just for him? He sighed loudly.

"I get some of it," she said softly, encouraging him to tell her something—anything. "You don't have to explain your change or all of them, whatever." She paused to take a deep breath, "Just explain Emily, please. That one can't be so hard."

He relaxed with her words. Explaining Emily would be easier than explaining his situation. But it wouldn't take long for her to understand. He could only hope she would be open-minded when he explained her.

"It's a gift," he started sarcastically. "A reward for the sacrifice the spirit warriors make. Some have described it as gravity. You look into their eyes and every connection you've ever had falls away; leaving only them. They become your reason for living. What holds you to this life."

"So...Sam looked at Emily...and this thing happened..."

"Yes," he responded curtly.

"And the others...this thing happened with them, too?"

He nodded. A thick lump appeared in his throat that prevented him from swallowing no matter how many times he tried. His heart ached but he couldn't tear his eyes from her face. Her expression showed every emotion as she took in his words; as the truth he couldn't stomach himself was realized.

"You..." the words a whisper so soft it was as though she didn't speak at all. Simply a breeze blowing by his ear.

He dropped to his knees, his head hanging down. His hands fisted in the dirt beneath him as he struggled to not fall over. He couldn't even find the courage to answer her but his actions said it all.

She wanted to be mad at him—longed for it. Not because she hated him. It was far more complicated than that. Once again, he was being taken from her. First she had pushed him away, then Sam took him, and now the gods had decreed she wasn't good enough for him.

The salty smell of his tears alerted her to his distress. And even though she wanted to turn from him; knowing whatever was between them was going to be crumbled into dust—she couldn't do it. She fell to the ground in front of him. They were a matched pair. It struck her how alike they were in this moment. Each wanting something they couldn't have—fate giving them something they never asked for.

Her hands encircled his wrists and pulled his hands from the muddy ground. She begged him to look at her. Her words and gestures as soft and comforting as his had been earlier for her. Only once had she seen him cry—the day she said goodbye to Sam.

And when he raised his head, she saw the saw haunted look she remembered seeing on Sam all those months ago. After he had returned from the dead. How could this—what he described be considered a gift? It was tearing him apart from the inside.

"I didn't want it. I don't want it," he boldly stated; the effect of his statements ruined by his voice cracking. "Please...you have to believe me. I wanted—want you, only you. I was so close to convincing the elders to let me see you, so close. All it took was one millisecond and I was bound to her."

His words tore her apart. The horrible thing from earlier—when she ripped half her cousin's face off—couldn't compare to this. She placed her hands on the sides of his face so she looked squarely into his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

There was nothing more she could say. Nothing would make it right. His pain was her pain. Sharp and knife-like; it cut the last bit of her heart that she had left. Things would never be the same after this, she was sure of it.

"Where does this leave us?"

FF_8756144_12 12/11/12 9:47PM