Author's Note:

Oh. My. Gosh. Thanks for all the amazing reviews, I loved them! And now you have all created an unhealthy addiction, which means I need even more reviews to keep this drugless high I'm on. JK. ;)

I'm back again with another update, thankfully. Sadly though, I am leaving for a trip to Washington D.C. at like, four in the morning on Saturday, and I won't be back until the following Saturday, so I won't be updating again until then. I know, I know, I'm sad about it, too :( The story is just getting so good...but I am very excited for the trip because I will be watching the Fourth of July fireworks over the Lincoln Memorial! Can you say YE-AH! Well, enough about my super-awesome trip that I will make sure to tell you about when I get back, and more Quil and Claire goodiness. Enjoy!

Happy Reading!

Wherefore art thou Stephanie Meyer?

Not here I tell you, and this is not her story, nor do I own the immaculate storyline that is Twilight.

I wanted you to know,

I love the way you laugh,

I wanna hold you high,

and steal your pain away

-Broken, Amy Lee and Seether

Ch. 18 Seeing You Like This

"Claire, sweetie, they're back", Emily's soft voice whispered in my ear, lifting me from my light slumber. I tried to remember what exactly was going on, why Emily was with me, replaying the last day or so in my mind. QUIL!

"Where? Where is he? I need him!" I practically screamed, trying to stand up and get off of whatever I was laying down on. Firm, callused, warm hands held me down in place, keeping me from getting up. My heart jumped at the possibility of those being Quil's hands, but I was instantly broke of my hope when the owner of the firm grip spoke.

"Claire, I need you to calm down." Sam. "Quil has been...injured...and he needs time to rest and heal. He's asleep at the moment, but we'll allow you to see him if you promise to be quiet and not wake him", he reasoned, almost like an adult offering a child a reward for doing their homework, or getting good grades. Making a deal.

I didn't have to think twice at that propostion, though, so I nodded my head anxiously up and down. Anything to see Quil, even if I might not be able to see his warm smile or hear his velvet-smooth voice. A strong pull tugged rigorously at my heart, feeling similar to how a knife would feel if someone twisted and turned it mercilessly back and forth in my chest.

My Quil was hurt, injured because of his bravery, his courage, and I would do everything in my power to help him recover at the fastest rate possible.

"Please?" I quickly added onto my obnoxiously overly-done nodding, my tone coming out whinier than intended, but both Sam and Emily didn't seem very taken aback by it.

Sam glanced momentarily at Emily, a look of question controlling his demeanor, before Emily nodded swiftly, her brown eyes fixed upon my face with small frown. Sam faced me once again, his expression now indifferent and unreadable. I felt his hands still firmly pressing my shoulders down, and I realized I was still struggling and wriggling under his grip, trying to get up off of what I gathered was Sam and Emily's living room sofa. I didn't really wonder how I had gotten here, my mind was far too distracted to dwell on such a small detail. We were talking about Quil's well-being here, and my sole focus was devoted to that.

"Claire, you have to understand, he's...not in the best shape right now. He really wants to see you, you were all he was thinking about, even when he was being wounded, but he needs his rest right now. His body is healing slower than usual, because of the extent to his injury, and rest is key to his recovery. You can be in there, with him, that's fine, but you need to understand that you must allow him some time to heal." Sam's face was a mask of seriousness, his deep-set, near black eyes staring into my face with purpose. His jaw was set, and the unmistakable 'Alpha' tone in his voice was evident, even to me. He was acting protective over Quil, as if I was a threat to Quil's safety. It stung, but I shrugged it off quickly, realizing Quil was a part of his pack. He might not have been Sam's beta, or his gamma, even, but Quil was still a part of his pack, and therefore, his brother. He was hurting, too, with Quil being hurt.

The way he was talking about Quil getting hurt, the faster my heart had pounded. Questions sputtered hurriedly through my head, demanding my attention all at once, fogging my brain with utter confusion. What happened to him? Which leech did this? Who's taking care of him? How long will it take for him to recover? Where is he? Can I hold his hand? Can I brush my lips across his? Can I squeeze him into a tight hug, reassuring myself that he's really there and this isn't all some messed up, twisted sort of dream that I am gonna wake up from and find out he's actually dead?

"I understand, Sam", I managed to say, trying my best to ignore and block all the cluttered incoherent thoughts muddling around my brain at a rapid pace.

Sam's stone-cold expression immediately disappeared from his features, and he gave me small smile. He released his tight hold on my upper arms and got off the couch. I stood up as well, noticing my clothing had been changed from what I had gone to sleep wearing. But again, I didn't allow my mind to ponder it, as there were more important things to attend to right now. Like seeing Quil.

"Follow me", Sam instructed, and I did as he asked and followed his huge form down Sam and Emily's hallway. He headed directly to the guest room, or as it had become in the past weeks, 'my bedroom'. He turned his head back to me, gave me one more, as I can only describe, 'warning' type of look before quietly turning the doorknob. Once it was opened he stepped noiselessly into the room, his feet missing all the trouble-spots on the creaky, old floorboards. I however, was not as lucky, but Sam didn't do anything, so I assumed I was not too loud. I had been so determined not to step on any creaky boards that I hadn't even got a chance to look for Quil yet, since entering the room.

My eyes lifted from the floor and I felt my heart crumble to pieces on the floor as I drank in the image of Quil's sleeping form. His body was wrapped in white bandages, his torso completely covered by them. His left arm, hung loosely in a sling, as his right lay dully at his side. The lower half of his body, from the hips down, was covered by a thin, woven blanket, so I wasn't able to witness any damages in those areas, but I'm sure that there were some, considering the condition the rest of his body was in. His head was gently pressed down on the pillows, his facical expression reminding me a lot of a child's, his facial features somehow softened when he was asleep. His messy hair was strewn across his forehead, sticking to it in some places from sweat, and flying away from it in others, of it's own accord. A thick white bandage was wrapped around his head, growing thicker in the back, but I couldn't see any damage because the back of his head was against the pillow.

I wanted to hug this man. I wanted to rest my head against his hard chest, brush my feather-light, fingertip touches over his forehead in soothing patterns, comforting him and listening to his goofy voice tell me jokes or his velvet voice tell me that everything was alright, everything would be perfectly fine. That he was perfectly fine. But I couldn't do that. And he couldn't do that. And that made the ache coming from my heart practically burst with throbbing pain.

Sam's soft whisper rose in the loud silence that the room had taken on, and I noticed he had somehow gotten quite a few steps closer to me, without me even noticing his subtle movements until he was whispering in my ear."His left arm is broken in two different places. Every single one of his ribs is either cracked or completely severed. His knee is twisted up pretty badly. The back of his head, his skull, is cracked."

Holy shit.

I must have looked pretty bad after that comment, because Sam felt the need to add.

"It looks worse than it is." He gave me a small, lop-sided, but hopeful smile. I didn't believe him. I couldn't. Not when Quil was laying right in front of my eyes, looking like this. Like he had been through hell and back. I think the sheer vision in front of me, Quil's sound asleep, torn apart body, was etched into the back of my eyelids indefintely. Everytime I blinked, no matter how fast I blinked, it was still there, sending shivers down my spine.

I ignored Sam, stepping forward, up to the side of the bed. I carefully rested my hand on the left side of his chest, my palm laying gently on his bandaged body. I waited a second, but Sam didn't protest, so I assumed that this touch was okay. I listened to the humming of his heart, his body inhaling and exhaling, rising and falling. Somehow, in some way, I felt all my worries melt away. I focused on his smile, his laugh, conjuring up random memories from different files of my brain, replaying them in my head. I pictured how he looked at that bonfire that seemed to have happened years ago. His eyes, even then, before I had loved him, had been full of joy, dancing as they seemed to swallow my soul. I thought about how he looked when he had come back for me in Boston, making the cross-country trip, just with simple intention of aplogizing to my face, rather than over a phone.

Suddenly, a memory so fuzzy, so vague in it's detail, came up, itching it's way to be remembered. It was a memory that had been long since forgotten, a memory that had taken a number of years, and many sleepless nights to forget. A memory I had spent a long time trying to block out, to pretend as if it never happened.

A man, tall, muscular, young in the face, but not in the frame, lifting a squealing toddler over his head, resting her on his shoulders, her tiny, chubby hands firmly grasping thickets of his slightly curly black hair. She giggled and swatted his hands away playfully as his fingers tickled her. He was walking down the beach, First Beach it appeared, his focus never wavering from the young girl resting on his broad shoulders. They both seemed completely happy, neither one losing their wide grins once. The girl soon pointed her fat little sausage of a finger down at the colorful array of rocks spread across the shoreline. The man bent down, the girl still on his shoulders, inquiring which rock she wanted. She told him, and he picked it up, giving it to her. She shook her little head, telling him that the rock was not the one she had wanted. He eyed another one. She declined. Another one. She shook her head no. Eventually he picked up a handful of rocks, to which she finally seemed satisfied with, but only to chuck them back at the man's head, laughing a high-pitched string of giggles that tickled eardrums. The man was not even close to being upset, actually on the contrary, the man chuckled along with the little girl, the memory slowly fading away, and the scene of Quil's bandaged body reappearing in front of my eyes.

"I'll be out in the living room, with Emily, if you need me. Take your time. I understand", Sam whispered, softly placing a hand on my shoulder, a small gesture of comfort, before exiting the small room without another sound. I lifted my hand from Quil's chest and moved it to his unbroken arm, running my fingers across the skin, barely touching it. I followed a path down his forearm, until I reached his hand, his open palm facing the ceiling. I quietly slid my hand into it, reveling in the heat seeping off of it.

I slumped down to the floor, making sure I avoided any loud noise, and leaned my back against the edge of the bed, my hand still resting in Quil's palm. I let my head gently fall against the side of Quil's muscular arm, my eyes closing.

He was broken. And in some part of my mind, I knew that this, his injuries, were'nt my fault. But instead of listening to that part of my mind, I accepted responisbility. This was my fault. I had let him go. He was fighting for me. It was my fault that he was laying in this bed, his bones broken. I wanted to cry, but the tears just wouldn't come.

I would wait. However long it took. I would wait here until my Quil was awake, and I could kiss him.

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