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

She and Quil stood in the quiet of the kitchen after they wheeled her dad away. It had been so easy to act during the crisis but now she was at a loss for what to do. Showing a maturity she didn't know he had, she watched as he searched the cupboards and found plastic containers.

In silence, she saw as he put the food into the containers before closing them and putting them in the fridge. Once the food was put away, he filled the sink with water and started washing the dishes. She hadn't made a sound but something must have alerted him to her concern.

"He'll be okay," he told her quietly. "Jared will keep an eye on him—he's good at this kind of stuff. Don't know how he does it but he's the best at helping us get under control and phasing back."

She grunted; not sure how to answer him.

"Your dad will be okay, too," his brow creased as he turned to look at her. His eyes meeting hers as he finished, "I'm pretty sure. His scent…it didn't…I don't know…smell like death, you know?"

Nodding, she shivered as she realized how close her dad had been to death. How close they had been to losing him. Her mind fixated on how if things had been different and she had phased in front of him—she was sure he would have been lost to them forever.

She didn't realize she was crying until Quil towered over her and gruffly told her, "Shit, don't do that. I don't know what to do with crying girls." He pushed a wad of paper towels into her hand.

"Claire doesn't do stuff like this," his nose wrinkled in aversion. "Usually she has me in tears. You met her before, right," he asked as he raised a brow in her direction.

She drew a shaky breath in and snickered. She remembered Claire alright—the girl was a menace to society at large and it served Quil right to be stuck with her for the rest of his natural life—and the gods willing, beyond.

"A few times but not enough to form an opinion," she said placidly.

"Ha—you're such a liar! It takes a millisecond to realize you'd be better off running from her. Don't get me wrong—I love her, but she's gonna be the death of me. I swear I found a grey hair the other day. I'm only sixteen! Next thing you know I'll be tottering around with my walker, screaming "I can't find my teeth, woman!"

Wiping the tears for her eyes, she smiled at him. His efforts to distract her were successful. He turned back to the sink and began to finish the dishes.

"How about I finish these up and then I'll bring you to the hospital? While I do that I'll tell you a bit about the others, sound fair?"

"Sure."

She had observed as it happened but hearing from Quil was different than just watching and making assumptions. He explained how Sam had run for weeks somewhere in the California wilderness before he was able to change back. Stealing clothes from the back of an unattended car, he had walked barefoot to the nearest town—Paradise—to be exact. Then, it took a few days for him to phase again so he could run back to La Push.

That was when he had shown up on her doorway and professed his love. She was grateful Quil skipped over their reunion and subsequent break-up. Simply glossing over the facts by saying, "He looked into Em's eyes and that was it. BAM! Imprint magic—taking its first victim. Poor bastard didn't know what happened until grandpa explained it."

She knew Jared was next along with Paul shortly after. For the longest time—or what seemed like a long time—it was just the three of them and Emily. But things changed when Embry phased. She remembered Rachel calling her and making plans only days after she noticed a shirtless Embry following them around like a lost puppy dog.

"You'd think we were all taking tokes off some imprinting pipe. Rachel came home and Embry fell prostrate at her feet and professed his undying love for her. To see it in his mind," he coughed. "It's like he cut off his balls and handed them to her in a gilded satchel."

He skipped over Bella which she was grateful for. She didn't care to find out the how's, why's, or when's of it. The bits she knew were enough. Plus he seemed a bit nervous to bring it up, too. Anxiety had a particular smell to it; bitter—like a blood orange.

"Anyway, Paul nearly ran Kim over trying to get Jake outside before he busted into a giant wolf during gym. For once in his life he didn't apologize to her tits but instead looked at her face. Another one bites the dust," he sang.

"The elders didn't know what to think of it. Grandpa scoured the journals and scrolls, trying to figure out when it was gonna end. Apparently, the wolfy gods weren't done with us. The same day I phased, Jake ran into a crying Angela on First Beach. Her boyfriend—Brad, naw, that's not it—whatever his name was broke her heart. Good thing Jake was there to pick up the pieces and glue her back together like she was Humpty Dumpty."

The dishes were done and he pulled the stopper from the drain. The gurgling sound of the water draining was the only noise in the kitchen. She watched as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel and then turned to face her.

"After seeing what happened to them all—I didn't look anywhere but my feet for over a week. Can you imagine? Being a sixteen-year old boy with this body," he joked as he gestured to his physique. "Afraid if I even checked out a girl that I'd be tricked and end up looking into her eyes; plus all the choice imprints were taken. Knowing my luck, I'd end up looking into your eyes and then have both Jared and Sam after my ass."

She couldn't help it but she laughed as she imagined Quil walking around the tribal school staring at his shoes. Tears leaked from her eyes when he added, "Or even worse—I'd end up being Mrs. Specht's soul mate. Not only is she probably older than my grandpa, she smells like toe jam."

"Toe jam? And you know the smell of this because…"

"Hey, you won't believe the funky stuff you'll be able to smell. I can pinpoint someone who had garlic with their dinner from half a mile," he grinned.

"So, Claire?"

"Yeah, she was visiting Em and she grabbed the last pumpkin spice muffin. I'd had my eye on it all morning—I'd even called dibs on it. I was ready to tell her off but I guess the wolf gods decided I didn't deserve the muffin."

"Let me guess, you professed your love by telling her that your muffins were her muffins."

"Yep. You want to change before we leave?"

The drive to the hospital didn't seem to take as long as she feared it would. Quil borrowed a shirt from her brother which seemed to strain across his form and a pair of ill-fitting flip flops worked for shoes. The last thing they needed was to get there and have the whole business of no shirt, no shoes—no entry come up.

When they arrived, he placed a restraining hand on her arm as he asked, "You're gonna be okay—no wolfing-out or anything? I'm already on midnight patrols for mouthing off."

"I'll be okay. I can leave if it gets to be too much but my mom needs at least one of us here."

"Good. Oh, and grandpa wanted me to remind you that he's still got to talk to you."

"Sure."

The crisp November air was just cold enough that they could see their breath. As they walked to the front doors, she vaguely realized they were a bit under dressed for the weather. At least it was an emergency and their strange lack of attire could be explained that they were in a rush to get there.

With calmness she didn't feel, she walked to the receptionist desk and inquired about her dad. The woman behind the desk directed them to the left and gave them his room number.

The hallway appeared endless. Light brown wallpaper covered the walls with faux wood handrails running along them. Light oak doors with nickel handles were spaced on both sides around a dozen or so feet apart. The fluorescent lights too bright and hurt her eyes.

Room 109. The closed door mocked her; a state of affairs that was too unreal to be true but yet was. She stood, frozen, her hand poised inches from the door handle but she couldn't touch it—couldn't push it open.

Quil did it for her and she peeked into the room, finding it empty except for her mom who sat on a metal folding chair in the corner. It was the push she needed; it gave her the strength she had been lacking while she had been unable to open the door.

She rushed into the room and to her mom's side. Leaning over, she wrapped her arms around her mom, crying out, "Mom."

Sue returned her daughter's embrace; her first words relieving Leah's lingering distress, "He's going to be fine. He's in recovery right now. The doctor said he was lucky that you acted as quickly as you did. Just a few nights here to make sure everything's good and then he'll be home."

FF_8756144_21 12/19/12 11:59PM