Last full chapter here, currently planning on two epilogues though. Will probably rewrite at least some of this someday.

Right. Option 1: Go back to the Clearwaters' house, demand to see Leah. Seth would probably help me, Mrs. Clearwater might too once I explained what happened. Best to choose a time when Charlie wasn't there. Pros: Would show determination, might give opportunity for a tactic that'd been very effective in the past—hugging. Cons: What to do if she refused to see me?

Option 2: Write a letter. This was the gentle option. Explain my thoughts on the subject and why Leah was being irrational. Pros: Easy to do, would let me get my thoughts in order beforehand, wouldn't upset anyone. Cons: Leah might not read the letter, I wouldn't be able to respond to her objections directly.

Option 3: Force her window open, go in, and smack her. Lightly. Lightly smack some sense into her and describe exactly how ridiculous she is being. Pros: Very straightforward and satisfying. Cons: Technically illegal, might damage the Clearwaters' house, might backfire and cause more emotional trauma.

"I've never seen a vamp pace before." Jacob had just entered the room.

My middle brother shrugged. "He does this when he gets mad."

"I'm afraid to even ask what happened."

"Ha."

It was ridiculous. This whole oh-no-he's-a-vampire-so-he-won't-like-me. Well, Leah, if you'd just listen to me for once, maybe you'd realize I just want you to be rational for five minutes so that I can decide if you like me or not instead of you and everyone just deciding for me that I won't—

GrrrrRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrr.

"So he's just muttering and growling."

"You get used to it."

"I guess he and Leah aren't so different." Jacob chuckled at his own joke.

But in what world was DYING of old age the right way to stop bothering a vampire, anyway? Did she not realize that I wasn't just going to forget about her the moment she stopped existing? Did she think there was really nothing I could do to interfere with her plan?

Short-term strategy: scare Leah at every opportunity to make her phase. Make her really mad. Deliberately get attacked by more werewolves or something.

It was absolutely unreasonable. She had some sort of complex going on. It wasn't even her fault that Sam broke up with her. He imprinted. He couldn't do anything about it, she knew what it was like. The ONLY reason no one wanted to be around her was that she was so moody and sensitive all the time.

RRRRRRgh.

"Really though, what happened?"

"We don't know. Edward says he should work it out for himself."

"Doesn't want to get punched again, huh?"

Well. If I was being strictly logical, the best plan was probably to combine the first two options and write a letter but stick around and see if I could talk to her through the door or something. I just needed a sheet of paper, plus fifty more to scrunch up and throw across the room when the words didn't come out right.

Unfortunately, that was when Josh appeared. "Uh... Henry?"

GRRRRRRRRRRR. Go away, this is none of your business. It's partly your fault she's thinking like this, you know, Josh.

"What happened?"

Sheesh, take a hint.

"That's rude, Henry."

What? I'd just pushed him away, I hadn't even done most of the things I'd wanted to do.

"Is it Leah?"

His words locked my muscles mid-stride.

Is it Annie?

No. This was different. That couldn't happen this time. Annie's reasons were good. Leah's were NOT. She was already in my world, and so was her family. She didn't have anything to lose.

Nothing?

But she didn't see it that way. For her, my happiness was her happiness. By staying—staying alive, that was, long-term—she was losing my best chance of happiness in her mind. To her, that would be a far bigger loss than her family and a human future.

It wasn't fair. No one should be forced to love anyone that much.

"Henry?"

I'm sorry, Leah, I didn't want to do this to you. I wish I'd never come here so that you wouldn't have to try and give up everything for me. So that you could go back to your human life like you wanted to without feeling guilty or suffering for every unhappy thought some boy from a hundred years ago had. So that you could imprint on someone normal, at the very least, and not tear yourself up like this.

Good grief, my thoughts sound like Edward's. What's happening to me?

"I could make a good guess," said a voice at my shoulder. My cousin had slipped into the room without my noticing.

Edward. Hey. I take back everything I said about you being overdramatic. Er, maybe not everything, but like half the things. Not sorry for punching you though.

"No worries."

I need fifty sheets of paper. And a rose.

"Can do, cousin."

And I might need to punch you a few more times.

"Go for it." He held out his arms, leaving his face and upper body unprotected. My brothers and Jacob looked rather perplexed.

Ugh. Now I couldn't do it. "Maybe later. Oh... and..." Eesh. I can't believe I'm saying this. "I might need your advice."

"I'm always happy to help, Henry."

. . . . . .

Leah,

Please talk to me. I don't think I can explain right on paper. Trust me, I've been trying for like an hour.

What I will say is that I don't think our current approach is going to cut it. We're both trying so hard to make each other happy that we're undercutting the thing that will do that best. Um, I mean we're each trying to sacrifice for each other, but really we're just making each other unhappy by making ourselves unhappy. I'm not saying we should be selfish; I'm saying we should work together to find some way to get around that problem.

Also, I'd like to warn you that I can be extremely stubborn. I will sit outside your door for a month if I need to. Ask my brothers if you don't believe me.

In conclusion, I love you and you can't do anything about it. It'll be easiest just to cooperate.

Your friend (and some other things too),

Henry

It was incredibly strange to write those words (you know which ones) for the first time. Anyway, I held the letter up and reread it, Edward looking over my shoulder. "What d'you think?"

"It's probably as good as anything," he sighed. Edward wasn't impressed by my romantic writing abilities. "I like the part where you admitted you're as stubborn as—"

"Her?"

"I was going to say a mule."

"I haven't been around many mules lately. As great as I'm sure they'd taste."

Edward shook his head at me. "I hope Leah knows what she's getting into."

"I think I've given her a decent idea by now. What made you change your mind, anyway? Did the punch convince you I was determined?"

"No, it was the change in your thoughts," he said with a knowing smile—the kind that had always made me want to smack him. Ah, dear old Edward. So glad you haven't changed.

"Please elaborate, dear cousin?" I requested politely.

But he didn't. I rolled my eyes as dramatically as I could, but I figured I knew what it was; it must be the way my thoughts had suddenly started to remind us of his.

Or, ahem, maybe that I hadn't actually taken off my betrothal bracelet thingy. There'd been a lot of debate in my mind on this subject, admittedly, but I hadn't. Maybe also how, mid-letter-writing, I'd abruptly, out-of-nowhere remembered how Leah had been crying at the bonfire a couple nights ago and been distracted for ten minutes wondering why.

Hey, what could I say? She was fierce and could turn into a giant wolf, and when she was happy her smile made me smile. And probably once I'd determined we were going to be permanently on the same team—in the same pack, if you will—my emotions had been scrambling to catch up. Sometimes I had trouble letting go of people once I decided we needed each other. That was why I'd dragged Josh back to our family in the first place, after all.

"You're quite loyal, Henry," Edward agreed softly. "It's always been one of your better traits."

Aww, thanks. "What are my worst traits, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Hmm. Now that you mention it, we'd all appreciate if you were a little less rational sometimes." He cracked a grin. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

. . . . . .

Charlie was there.

I did not swear internally. But it was close.

"Hello," I said innocently. Edward was at my side, and I noted Charlie giving him a dirty look.

Charlie considered me for a long moment. "Are you the reason Leah's upset?"

Uh-oh.

But at least she was upset. That meant she realized that this was an actual serious thing and wasn't brushing it off as much as she'd tried to seem she was last night.

But what to tell Charlie? I debated, and finally just sighed and showed Charlie the rose Edward had acquired for me.

Charlie, understandably, folded his arms and stood even more in my way. "Do tell."

How to put this in human terms? I wasn't going to tell Charlie about us unless Mrs. Clearwater decided to; she was the authority in this situation. "My opinion," I began, "is that Leah is being ridiculous. Now, I'd like to make it clear that I mean no offense whatsoever to her; Eddie here is completely irrational most of the time and I still love him like a brother. But that doesn't change the fact that Leah is completely and utterly wrong in a way which is very detrimental to our relationship and my sanity, and I am here to, A, convince her of this fact, and, B, tell her that I, um, lo—um—would like to continue this relationship. For a very long time. Um."

I became aware that Edward was making some quite intriguing squeaking noises as a result of being doubled over in (mostly) silent laughter.

Charlie's eyebrows went up very high.

"Don't give me that look, that was very articulate for me. Shut up, Edward."

A beat. It wasn't clear how much effect my statement of intent had had, as Charlie's expression did not change.

"So. Excuse me, please."

He let me nudge past him. Mrs. Clearwater was here, too, and I paused. "Did you have any idea what I was talking about there?" This could get very awkward if not.

"Actually, I did. And I do hope you two will work this out. I… Henry, I want you to know that I like you very much, and I think you're very good for Leah. You remind me so much of my husband."

Huh. Well, no pressure to me. (Also, wow.) "I—thank you, Mrs. Clearwater. That means a lot to me, it really does. Is Leah in her room?"

"Yes, she is."

"Alright…" So I went past her, and past Seth, to Leah's room—of course I knew where that was by now, though she'd never invited me in—which was probably odd on her end, come to think of it. I was still half in the don't-go-for-a-walk-without-supervision era. Her door was closed, so I knocked, knelt, and slipped the letter under it. The rose would have to wait.

Coincidentally, I'd actually realized the flower would not fit under the door and considered getting chocolate as well—this was a traditional gift for important females in one's life and I was sure someone with Leah's metabolism would appreciate it even more—but then I'd confused myself wondering if chocolate was bad for werewolves. Perhaps next time.

After a pause, I heard the thumping of Leah's heartbeat—yes, I could tell she was in there—approach the door. There was rustling, and she retreated back to what was likely her bed. More rustling.

Another long pause.

I stood there, twirling the rose in my hands. I'd never been in a situation like this before. If only I could do something besides wait; even though the three humans were chattering in the other room, sticking to other topics, I was conscious of their presence. Edward was there, but I knew Leah might hear us talking. Then again, what was mind reading for? I'm scared, I thought to Edward sheepishly.

He winked and gave a thumbs-up. You're fine, he said, and it took me a second to realize I should be surprised.

You know ASL?

Of course!

Then again, most vampires knew more languages than I did. I couldn't hold the accursed words in my head. But signs, yes. Girls are confusing. Help me.

You do well. Me, no.

Pff. You're funny. You made a girl faint by kissing her, yes?
Yes—

Teach me.

He snorted out loud. What?

That—no, no, not that. Romance.

But Edward was too busy muffling his snickering to pay any attention.

Don't tell my brothers I said that, I ordered, still to no effect.

Footsteps.

All the words I was going to say just flew out of my head, Eddie, I thought.

This is the only day I'll let you call me Eddie, he signed back.

I was too scattered mentally to think of a good reply. But, luckily not so much that I couldn't take a deep breath and give myself a pep talk.

Alright, Henry, I told myself. You're going to be fine, and here's why.

Firstly, Leah loves you unconditionally, and would still love you even if you were a serial killer. That's leverage, not an ego booster. You can use this to your advantage. If you can convince her that you really actually want her around, she'll stay.

Edward was nodding along to my reasoning.

Secondly, you've gotten almost a century of experience as a private detective, three doctorates, and an unreasonable amount of time dealing with college-aged kids. You have survived getting all of these and you are a competent vampiric being. Do not fear the female.

And thirdly, you can be irritatingly charming when you want to be.

Hey, that third one hadn't been me. Edward was adding to my list, signing faster than the human eye could process.

You're welcome, he added. You really need me, don't you, cousin?

Using my own words against me?

But yes, yes I did.

As usual, all this had happened within a few human heartbeats, and only just now was my werewolf approaching the door. There was time, maybe, for one more question.

Do I really want to do this?

It was important to ask, wasn't it? I really did have a choice here, didn't I, contrary to what I'd been insisting all along?

Yes, I did.

So.

For Leah, it really was only important that I be happy. As hard to believe as it was, I had to accept it. So my own happiness was, in theory, the most important thing in this situation.

As uncomfortable as that was.

I could, indeed, continue on with my life as I'd been doing before. Go back to Chicago, or somewhere else. Start actively looking for new cases again. Do some good in the world, both in and out of my job. It was a good life in itself, without anything added.

As for Leah, maybe she would need to come with me. But, she wanted to attend college anyway; we'd talked about it. She might like being in the big city, attending classes, getting away from all the hurt she'd suffered back home. We could see each other every day or so; my current human friends would accept her. We could be very good friends, but no more. I could choose another girl to marry, if my picky self could ever find one who liked vampires.

She'd never marry, but her happiness depended on mine, and mine alone. If I were happy, she would be too. And she would grow old and die, content with her life as long as I was.

And that was the saddest thought I could imagine.

What an odd paradox this was. Leah would be happy either way, as long as I was. And yet, there was such a difference in my mind between the two choices. One way, Leah would be happy and I would be happy, but I wouldn't do anything to deserve her love. I would put up with her, give her a window into my life, but that was all. I would benefit, and she… well, she might be happier than she would've been if I hadn't come to Forks. But at the same time, she would know she wasn't good enough. She would be a burden on me, a chore to be completed every day; she would not make much of a positive difference in my life. She would lurk on the boundary of my world, trying to do something, anything, to make up for the drain on my time that she would see herself as.

No, not a viable option. Absolutely not.

It wasn't fair to her that she'd had to imprint on me; she should have been able to heal on her own, find her own way in life and her own love. I was pretty sure she would have; Leah was tough. But things hadn't worked out that way. So now, she would be happy no matter what, as long as I was too kind to brush her aside; but she deserved better than that. She deserved more than simple tolerance. I couldn't take her love for granted. If she couldn't choose, I would have to be the kind of man she would have chosen.

So I would be.

And that aside, the idea of her growing old and someday dying—a repeat of another loss that hadn't quite come yet—made me want to cry. So that was that.

Well. Edward was obviously contagious. That, or the whole vampire-loyalty-for-life thing was kicking in. We only ever fell in love once, so I was told. I'd managed twice—though maybe I hadn't been, er, fully… imprinted? with Annie—but this one was different. For instance, I'd already made a much larger commitment, even though the time was so much shorter. And, one could love more than one person for all eternity. There just came a time when priorities had to be chosen, and you had to decide which of those people to put first. It seemed the choice had been made for me, one way or the other. But this was still the right one.

For goodness' sake, Henry, I scolded myself. That's more than enough philosophy. Channel your inner David and just say what you mean. She's waiting for you.

She was. Leah had paused on the other side of the door, waiting. It had only been twelve of her heartbeats, but that was still a while.

Okay.

I leaned against the door, imagining I could feel her warmth through it. (Stop it, Henry, that's weird.) Edward was still there, but that was all right with me; he was my moral support.

This should not be scary to you, Henry. You have done much worse things than this. "Hi."

"Hi," she breathed on the other side of the door.

"You, uh, read the letter?" Darn it, I should have made notecards or something. Ha.

"I-it was a very nice letter, Henry. But you don't need to…"

"Did you believe what I wrote?"

A trap. If she said no, she might hurt my feelings. But she wouldn't lie to me, either.

"I…"

Edward stepped up. "I can tell you, he really is that stubborn." He winked at me. "Old memories are resurfacing."

Like the time you were having a really bad week and I wouldn't leave your room until you talked to me?

Exactly, Henry. Exactly. And thank you.

No worries.

"I was thinking," I told Leah through the door, "life would be an awful lot less boring if I had someone to share it with. I mean, I have my brothers and Edward and my parents and all, but they all have their own responsibilities and such. Edward has a daughter now, for one thing." Still weird.

"And anyway," Edward added, with mischief in his voice, "Henry always did like dark-haired girls better, didn't you, cousin?"

I would've blushed, if I weren't a bit blood-deprived at the moment. "Edward."

He leaned into the door next to me and whispered conspiratorially. "I have a secret for you, Leah. About Henry."

What?

"You see, the morning before you met him, we visited Charlie's house—"

What was he getting at? I'd been tormenting him with puns, Charlie hadn't known whether to believe we were biologically related—oh no.

"—and he saw your picture on the fridge—"

"I'd just like to say—" I interrupted.

"—and I think you should know, Leah, that he thought you were quite beautiful. We teased him about it."

"I told you that was a private thought, Mr. Masen—I mean Cullen—and aside from that, I'd like to state that physical appearance is not a good criterion for selection, and I have much less shallow reasons for—"

"And if that is not enough for you—" He snickered. "—Miss Clearwater, I also distinctly overheard him tell his brother that you are prettier than Cari Taylor."

Technically speaking, I snorted when he suggested otherwise. "Edward, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the hall."

"What, how come?" He raised both eyebrows in badly faked innocence.

"For one thing, only I am allowed to call her 'Miss Clearwater'."

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's a flirting thing. Now go play with Seth. Shoo."

"As you wish."

Thanks for the humor. I guess.

You're allowed to think she's pretty, Henry. It's one compliment out of many.

Still embarrassing.

Good luck!

Alright.

Well, it wouldn't do for us to talk from either side of the door. "May I come in?"

The door opened. Leah didn't look like she'd been crying, which was good—at least in my opinion. What it meant for my cause, I wasn't sure. But she'd definitely been biting her lip a lot.

After a few moments of considering her appearance (quite pretty indeed—shut up, Henry), I remembered I was holding a flower and held it out to her.

Ha, something else I'd never done before. Which was perhaps surprising, but I tended to go for casual dates with the few girls I thought worthy, and things rarely went any further. I cracked a grin.

And Leah grinned too, almost reluctantly, unintentionally mirroring my emotions. A useful tool, indeed. But she didn't accept the rose.

"You're refusing my gift," I told her, dead-serious. "That's not very nice."

She reached for it, but hesitated. Fighting the urge to do what I said I wanted, in case I was wrong.

"I can wait," I declared, and leaned back against the doorway, still holding out the rose, to take a look at her room. There was a fair amount of purple, interestingly. Funny, because I'd rarely seen her wearing anything colorful.

The place was the exact opposite sort of messy-yet-organized from what I tended toward; I usually had little piles of things all over the place, all jumbled up but cleared out of the way so that most surfaces were clear. In Leah's room, clothes and books and all sorts of items were lying everywhere, but carefully laid out, the clothes folded and the books stacked.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting to have you in here," she told me sheepishly—but without real concern that I would care, which was progress.

"I'm not talking to you until you take the flower."

And of course, she folded her arms and took the same position I was in, on the other side of the doorway. We had two feet or so between us. "I can be stubborn too."

"Alrighty." And I waited.

Where was I? Oh, yes. Speaking of books, I recognized some: detective novels, ones I'd named as my favorites. (Aww.) And a couple others I was sure I'd cited to her for some reason or another… hmm… yes, there was the memory. Yeah, she was way too serious about this, but what was I going to do about it, tell her to stop trying to build common interests?

The walls were bare, though nails hung at even spaces. I thought I could see, with my vampire eyes, a very faint line where the pictures or posters that had been there had blocked the sun, probably for years, from bleaching the wall. Why had she pulled down whatever had hung there? Did she think I wouldn't like them? It was possible, I supposed; I didn't really approve of the message or lyrics of certain bands, for instance. (Though Leah and I had similar music preferences, unless she'd edited some out.)

Sightings of wolf art were less common in this room—absent, in fact. Leah didn't like being a werewolf.

Hmm. Actually, it wasn't just the walls; her shelves were nearly bare, too, with much thicker dust in some places than others. She'd removed many of her belongings recently, perhaps around the time I'd arrived. (Still somehow less than three weeks ago.) I didn't see where they might have gone, but there was a lonely, half-used roll of packing tape sitting alone in one corner.

"You were planning on leaving, weren't you? Going to a university in the spring?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "It doesn't matter."

I wouldn't be relying much on whether she thought things mattered or not. "That's all right, you'll certainly get other chances." I didn't say it because I doubted it would make her feel any better, but she'd be able to afford a better college once she married me. (I say that if you can live almost a century while working most of the time and not have a decent sum built up, you're a bit of a failure. Unless you give it all away, to be fair, but it's reasonable to keep some for the next major crisis. I'd been able to help a lot of friends between the Wars.)

…once she married me. Scary, scary. But not as scary as it could have been. (But also terrifying.)

"True," she murmured.

I continued to stand there. She shifted to a new position. I waited for her to meet my eyes, not moving a muscle.

Even as a vampire, it was hard not to move. Not because of any physical sensation in my body, but because not moving was so boring. Usually. When needed, though, I could do it, and I did now. Whenever Leah moved, even an inch, I shifted my gaze to follow her, but I kept my hand outstretched patiently. There was a hint of a smile on my face. C'mon, Leah. I'm gonna win this one, and you know it.

"For goodness' sake," she muttered finally.

"Take the rose?"

She glared, and turned to the open door. "I don't have to stay here."

"I can follow you," I noted, unconcerned. I could also shut the door and hold it closed, but that was a bit too forceful.

"Henry. Please don't do this to yourself."

I just shrugged. I could explain my thoughts to her, but I doubted she'd agree with my reasoning. Maybe later.

"I can be stubborn too, okay? Don't think you can win by waiting a long time."

Hmm. She might be right; after all, my happiness was theoretically on the line. What to do? "It might hurt my feelings if you don't take the flower," I mused, contemplating the stem in my hand.

"Not buying it."

"No, really." I looked up at her, fully focused for one of the relatively few times in my life. (Previously I'd been trying to think of books to recommend if she asked, and making a mental note to call my friends in Chicago back—they kept calling while I was with Leah, and I kept discreetly declining their calls. They could deal with it, I didn't answer half the time anyway if I was busy.) "I've watched as a lot of people I loved aged and died. One of the most important people to ever be in my life is entering her fifties right now; she might have two, three, four, maybe five decades left if she's lucky. I need people around me who are constant, who will probably still be around in another century, to make up for that, so that something will stay stable. So far, you're the only person willing and able to be there for me like that, outside my family. And I don't want to see you die. Even a vampire's heart can break eventually, y'know?"

Cheesy. But so be it.

Oh gosh, I'd made her cry again. Ouch. I probably needed to in order to convince her, but still.

"Henry, I—" She threw her arms around me.

Hugs. A useful solution to about-to-explode werewolves, and probably helpful for sobbing ones as well. I held her and let her burrow into my shoulder (it felt like holding hot coffee for my human friends), and laid my head against hers. She still smelled like werewolf, like my long-ago canine companions, like comfort and trust. No, I couldn't mind that scent.

In other news, touching did weird things to my brain, but I calmly ignored this for now. It wasn't that much different from being near tasty humans all the time.

As Leah's breathing slowed, I deftly plucked the thorns off the rose with my free hand and shortened the stem. Leah's hair wasn't all that long, but it was long enough, and I'd seen enough braids in my life to pull up a memory of one and easily weave the flower into her hair. Hopefully without leaving any knots.

"You can get out of this if you want," I told her, "but I don't think you do, and I'd prefer if you didn't."

"Are you… sure… you mean that?"

"Yes, I am."

I was. I likely wouldn't have chosen Leah on my own, but we needed each other. Perhaps she needed me a little more specifically, but sometimes that was the way of things. Yes, I could do this.

There were still questions to work out, of course. She might not fully trust me for a while yet. But I'd be worthy of her trust, in the end. We had a while. If not forever—because even a vampire could die—then the next best thing.

"I love you." And I won't hurt you. Really. You'll believe that someday.

Yes, we have time.