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

AN: This chapter is told a bit in reverse order. Starting with the end, sometime in the middle, then going to the beginning, and ending with the middle if that makes sense. I'm just trying to paint the picture so I hope it's not confusing.

A choked scream left her throat as she woke abruptly. The motion of the mattress dipping tore her from her nightmares. She clutched the blankets to her chest as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her senses preternaturally enhanced; the vestiges of her nightmare lingering into her waking hours.

"Are you okay," he asked quietly.

She bit her lip and nodded; not trusting herself to speak the words. Her eyes met his and recognized his worry. Its presence reminding her that it wasn't a nightmare—everything was real.

"What happened," she asked shakily.

"What do you remember?"

She moved closer to Jared, his arm naturally pulling her closer to his body. She quietly told him everything she remembered. Right up until the void.

"She's okay? I didn't hurt her too, did I," she whispered brokenly.

"No, not really. Jake took her to the hospital and got her patched up. He told Charlie she slipped near the tide pools on First Beach and cut her arm. How did you know?"

"I didn't," she replied with a frown. "There was something strange about her scent. None of you noticed it?"

"Never. I may be fighting my imprint but it wasn't because of that. It was because I wanted you—only you."

His lips touched her temple, kissing her gently. She clung to him like he was shelter from a storm. There were still too many unanswered questions.

"Will you stay? I don't want to be alone but I don't want talk about it anymore tonight."

"Yeah, I can but first let me lock your door. I think there's been enough excitement in your house to last for a few years."

She snorted at his assessment of the past day and slid down into her bed. Turning on her side, she watched as he walked over to her door and turned the lock. In the darkness, their eyes met and he smiled at her. It was easy to pretend nothing had changed—even though nothing remained the same.

Sue drove home after a long day at the hospital where she had sat by Emily's bedside. She was exhausted, confused, and troubled. Sam—the same man who had professed his love to her daughter and asked for her hand in marriage, only to throw Leah over for her cousin had been absent from Emily's bedside until late that evening.

Even when she had first been notified of Emily's accident; she knew something was wrong about the whole situation. People that had no business being involved were. Billy and Old Quil quietly arguing with each other and the mindless boys that always seemed to follow Sam around were pacing in the narrow waiting room.

They had barely taken the time to put on clothes. Tee-shirts and cutoffs with unlaced tennis shoes and no socks. She didn't care what her husband told her—there was something peculiar about them. Though one was missing—Jared and more than once she overheard the whisper of his name linked with her daughter's. Her curiosity was roused and this time Harry wasn't going to sidestep her inquiries.

Arriving home, she noticed the house was dark and lifeless. A simple note on the kitchen table let her know that Seth was at Collin's house for the evening and would be back later. Vaguely, she recalled seeing Leah's car outside, leaving her to wonder where her daughter was.

Her purse was dropped on the kitchen table next to Seth's note. She rolled her shoulders trying to relieve the tension in them. Sighing loudly, she wondered what to do while she waited for Harry to come home.

A loud thump jarred her from her musings. The sound appeared to be coming from Leah's room. Cautiously she walked towards her daughter's room, calling Leah's name softly.

A gasp left her lips; she was completely unprepared for the sight of her daughter slumped on the ground. Her body barely encased in a green towel. Her brown eyes open but unseeing. It was as though only her body remained—the soul, the spirit, the fire of her daughter was gone.

"Leah, honey," she crooned as she rushed into the room. "Honey, what happened? Are you okay?"

Her daughter moved in slow motion, turning her face to gaze at Sue. Her vacant gaze sent a shiver down Sue's spine and she swallowed thickly. She had seen many things in her lifetime but this; she didn't—couldn't understand this. What had happened to her baby?

"Mom," she croaked.

"Shh, baby. I'm right here," she murmured, leaning down to kiss Leah's cheek while she ran a hand over her damp locks.

"I'm sorry, mom," she whispered.

"What for?"

"Everything."

The single word struck fear into Sue's heart and she was speechless. The only time she could recall ever seeing such a haunted look was the few times she had cared for veterans. They had seen horrors she couldn't imagine—things that haunted them every day and night.

"Come on, let's get you dressed and into bed. Everything's going to be fine. There's nothing for you to apologize for."

She helped Leah to sit on the edge of the bed before walking over to the dresser and finding a pair of pajamas. When she returned to her daughter's side, she helped her dress just like she had when Leah was young. The entire time Leah didn't fight; her limbs similar to those of a doll.

Once Leah was dressed, she went into the bathroom and found a comb and some binders for Leah's hair. As she was turning to leave, she noticed the pile of clothes on the floor. Neither item seemed familiar. The tee-shirt was faded and seemed too large for her daughter's slight body and the pink sweatpants—a color that Leah would never wear. Hadn't worn since she was a little girl and Sue would pick out her outfit for the day.

Her interest subsequently stirred and she picked the items up. The shirt she had thought would be too large—was. Its hem stained with mud, the collar streaked with a dark, rust-colored mark. Absentmindedly, she rubbed her thumb across it before dropping the shirt in horror. Its color familiar because she had seen it countless times before—one would never forget what its color meant. Just as one could never forget the waxy paleness of someone who was too far gone to be saved. Blood.

What the hell had happened while she had been gone? Her stomach clenched in anguish as she imagined all the horrible possibilities. Forcing herself to be strong, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes. Telling herself not to think of what happened and instead focus on her daughter—right here, right now. She had to be there for Leah—that was her job as a mother.

She drew her face into a serene mask as she hid her inner turmoil. Walking into her daughter's room again, she was struck by the fact that Leah hadn't moved. If not for the blinking of her eyes—it would seem that her daughter had turned into a marble statue. Slowly, she edged into the room; some unknown knowledge telling her the importance of moving slowly and cautiously.

"Honey, I'm going to brush your hair and braid it," she told her as she moved closer. "Then you can lie down and get some sleep."

Crawling on the bed, she situated herself behind Leah and ran the comb through her daughter's long hair. Brushing the tangles and snarls from it; parting it, she separated it into two sections. A binder was placed around one and then she braided the other section. When she was finished, she placed a binder on the end of the braid and then repeated her actions on the other section.

Once she had taken care of Leah's hair, she moved off the bed. Her voice quietly directed Leah to stand so she could pull the covers down before she had Leah lay on the bed. She pulled the covers up to Leah's shoulders. Kneeling, she traced her hand along Leah's forehead and down across her temple to her cheek.

"I love you, Leah. Everything's going to be okay. I promise," she whispered before leaning to kiss Leah's cheek.

She heard the shuddering exhalation Leah made but missed the tear that leaked from the corner of Leah's eye. Blinking rapidly against the tears that threatened in her own eyes, she pushed herself up and walked towards the door. She glanced one more time at her daughter; Leah's eyes were closed and her breathing appeared to be deep and even, leaving her to think she had already fallen asleep. It wasn't until after she turned the light off and shut the door that she grasped how hot Leah's skin had been. Just another thing to add to all the things that didn't make sense to her.

Harry was the first one to speak after Old Quil. "What…how…I don't understand."

"That was Leah's wolf," Old Quil stated gravely. "Her wolf spirit is strengthened by the joining of all three lines. She and Seth are the closest embodiments of Taha Aki."

"Bella," Billy asked as he gestured to the sobbing girl on the floor.

"Her blood was…is tainted by vampire venom," Jared answered as he shuddered. Even though he had no desire to accept the imprint and had been fighting it from the beginning—the knowledge of what lingered in her made him sick. How was it possible for him to imprint on someone that carried the mark of their enemy? It wasn't natural.

"Someone needs to take her to the hospital to get stitched up," Old Quil remarked.

"Not me," he growled.

"Fine, I'll do it," Jake said with a sigh. "Come on, Bells. Let's get you to Forks so you can be patched up. It's okay if I grab a towel or something?"

Old Quil answered with a nod, his hand waving them to go. The revelation of the girl's tainted blood meant that imprint or not—she was no longer welcome at these meetings. He would need to talk to Leah privately as he was sure there was more to everything than what met the eye but it wasn't the time right now.

"What the hell am I supposed to tell Sue?"

She was waiting for him when he arrived home.

Silently, she sat in the darkness of the kitchen. His heart thundered and his knees felt weak when he noticed the intensity of her gaze as she stared at him.

"Harry, I've never had a reason to not trust you—not once. But tonight, I'm not so sure. Not after all the things I've witnessed today."

He gulped. He tried to think of something—anything he could use to satisfy her demands. She took his silence as evasion which was exactly what he was trying to do.

"Explain to me why our daughter allowed me to dress her like she was a zombie. Why she was wearing clothes that weren't her own? Clothes covered in mud and blood. Why she's burning up like she has a fever? Or are you going to tell me the same thing you've been telling me for months—anytime I bring up a concern to you—that it's none of my business and not to worry."

"Sue," he voice beseeched. "I can't."

"Can't or won't? Tell me why I shouldn't pack my bags—our children's bags and leave? Give me one reason to stay and continue to listen to your lies," her voice breaking as she was overwhelmed with fury.

"Can't—won't. Does it really make a difference?"

"You know it does. This isn't about someone else's child, Harry. This is about our child—our daughter. As her mother I have a right to know. I carried her inside my body for nine months—nurtured her for the past 18 years—no matter how old she is, she will always be part of me. What hurts her hurts me. And she's hurting and I can't fix it if I don't even know what it is."

He watched as she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes pierced the ragged edges of his soul—the parts that had cracked off as he hid the truth from her—from them. And for what? It didn't stop it from happening. It wasn't going to stop it from happening to Seth. Where would it leave them?

The past few months had taken a toll on his health. His blood pressure had skyrocketed and his cholesterol levels were off the chart. Medication after medication had been added to improve his health but the weight of secrecy only increased his problems. He didn't dare mention to his doctor the chest pains and numbness in his arms that he had been having for the past few weeks.

"Darling," he murmured.

"Don't—just don't. Either tell me what's going on or we're done. I mean it—in the morning I will take my children and leave."

Groaning, he sagged into one of the hard wooden chairs. He couldn't bear to look at her face and watch the emotions he knew would cross it. In the end, he told her everything. Every single thing he had hidden for nearly six months. He even told her what was to come. And when he finished—only then was he brave enough to look at her face.

"…please…no…" she pleaded softly.

All he could do was hang his head—in shame, horror, and sadness. There was nothing that could be done to fix it—and now she knew too. His burden wasn't lightened by his confession, if anything, it felt heavier.

FF_8756144_18 12/17/12 8:32AM