*Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable, all those rights go to Stephenie Meyer. As all song rights go to the listed artist. I only own any original characters.

A/N: First, as always, I want to thank all of you who have reviewed, Read, added this story to their favorites and to their following list. All of your support means so much to me. Thank You!

I'm not ready to make nice
I'm not ready to back down
I'm still mad as hell and
I don't have time to go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
'Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should

. Forgive, sounds good
Forget, I'm not sure I could
They say time heals everything
But I'm still waiting

Song- Not Ready To Make Nice

By: Dixie Chicks

Old Quil watched the young girl, who lay facing the tan weathered walls of his small cabin. It had been two days of questions, two days of tension, two days of pleas, and two days of tears from Sam and the others. When it came to the young girl on the old twin bed and her never changing fetal position came two days of silence.

The most form of communication that came from the bruised girl was the night of the bonfire. After the initial reunion had run its course for Sam (as Sam was the only one to initiate any contact or emotion to the stiff indifferent girl he clung to) Sue had quickly stepped forward about the importance of a hospital.

Old Quil's thoughts drifted to that last bit of communication and to that night where the world seemed to stand on its axis.

It was in that moment at hearing Sue's words that Sam really took in his sister's well-being and began to fuss over the girl while trying to get answers from her about what had happened. It was only the old wise Shaman who saw the true fear in those exotic eyes at the words hospital and doctors. Old Quil knew they were concerned for her, but their concern left them blind to her reaction and to the memories of her traumatic past of the last time she was at a hospital with Sam.

In that moment he knew he needed to do something to defuse the situation for the girl the tribe had harmed; yet there was more to it than the trauma and debt owed to the girl that had him speaking up and offer his services as shaman to heal her. He knew she wasn't fully mortal because he knew if she was, she wouldn't be standing let alone have survived this long with those wounds. While she wasn't fully changed some of her genes were active like her healing ability. He didn't need to wonder what had caused her genes to become responsive as memories of Harry telling him about the Cullen's presence at the hospital in LA took forefront.

The introduction to the Cullen's so early in her life and in such large dosages caused the genes to start to awaken. In this moment he was glad she wasn't a full blooded shifter as that much exposure would have been enough to cause a shift, exposing them all to the world. Shaking the trivial matter of her early awakening, he focused his gaze onto the exotic one of the girl before him. He could see the confusion at his offer at first, then the realization came over her as he had no doubt came from her mother's guidance.

He knew the woman who he had come to care for physically as her health failed in those nine months would stay in limbo to be by her daughter's side after seeing the mess she had left behind with her inability/refusal to tell anyone of her secret. Finally the young girl nodded her agreement as she shook her defiant brother off her. She began to limp after the elder, stating with her actions her choice for care. Without a look back she entered his cabin amongst the arguing of Sue and her brother, who believed western medicine was what was for the best.

With a small shot of a foul smelling liquid presented in a small glass, the girl didn't even flinch as she quickly threw it back causing her world to go black in less than a minute, allowing the Shaman to get to work for the next hour repairing the wounded body before him.

As he exited the room, Sam sent him a glare as he shoved past him to get to his sister's side. While Sue continued to lecture about cleanliness and the need for antibiotics, out of the corner of his eye he could see Harry's torn façade as he believed in the old ways, but yet also believed in the saying,' happy wife, happy life'.

It wasn't long before the sound of boots on the front porch alerted the old man that the night was far from over; and that the girl's trust was about to be strained even further. With a rap at the door Old Quil made his way to it, opening it to see Harry's and at one time Billy's good friend the deputy of the small town that surrounded their reservation, Charles Swan. Old Quil held up his hand to the man to silence him as he knew why he was here; there was no need to explain it to him as he wasn't the one who had to pay the consequences.

Slowly he stood aside to allow the stunned policeman into his home. As Charlie gave his greetings to Harry as Billy had already departed with a quarrelsome Jacob, Old Quil passed by Sue's side, stopping for a brief moment. "You might mean well, but you have done nothing but fortify a wall," was murmured to a now confused looking Sue as Old Quil continued on his way, gesturing with a nod for the deputy to follow him.

As he opened the door there sat a heart breaking sight. A young man with tears streaming down his face as he pleaded with the indifferent faced girl on the bed, whose gaze was focused on the ceiling above. The creaking of the door caught her attention causing her gaze to drift to the door. The instant she saw the blue uniform and badge and with what was almost a supernatural speed her heard whipped to face her brother. The indifference quickly left and was replaced with a stoned locked jaw with eyes as hard and as cold as ice.

Feeling the tension, a cough erupted in the room causing all attention to focus on it. "Hello, Isabella, I'm Deputy Swan. I was hoping you could answer some questions for me," he said as he stepped forward towards the bed but stopped dead as the hard icy gaze turned to him causing him to flinch a bit at the eyes before him. He had never seen such eyes and with the coldness in them they were downright terrifying. Shaking his stupor, "I know it's been a lot for you today, Isabella, but there are a lot of questions that need to be answered. Like, how you got here and how you ended up in the state you arrived in."

Bella said nothing as she turned to the position on her side towards the dull plain wall.

No amount of pleading from Sam or badgering from Charlie could get the girl to speak. After two days of silence, Charlie threatened the girl with taking her down to the station until she was ready to give her story. Old Quil was in the room when those words crossed the deputy's lips and in a blink the elder had his hand clamped down tightly onto Charlie's shoulder causing shooting pain to flow through him under the pressure. While Old Quil might look feeble, he was anything but. Lowering his head to the young policeman's ear he boldly spoke,

"This is tribal land, therefore tribal law. You have no jurisdiction here, even though people in high places want answers, you are in no position to threaten a member of this tribe. You are a guest here, Charles, and you would do best to remember that".

With a stiff nod in understanding Charlie got to his feet and excused himself. As Old Quil went back to taking his full stature, his eyes caught the green ones on the bed and for the first time in days she had turned her gaze away from the wall; and for the first time since locking onto that wall some of the ice had melted as she looked at the old man who had removed her harasser and also was the first person to stand up for her since this circus had started. While it was encouraging, it was brief as her head quickly turned back to the wall.

He didn't fuss over it, he knew better than too as he made his way over to the tray of gauze. They weren't really needed anymore but appearances needed to be kept to conceal what she and even he didn't want revealed. For her it was a private matter and a trust issue as she had no interest of anyone else here knowing about it. For Old Quil it was about not the right time for this to be known. One, it would make her feel even more isolated at the probing questions at this gift; and it also wasn't the right time to reveal the truth about the supernatural elements of life.

These children have a path that ran through hell in the future; so they were owed this ignorance and innocence for the time being. His heart constricted a bit at the thought, that Bella would never have the innocence the others were granted; she was forced head first into hardship from her first breath and into turmoil at the age of seven. He knew life wasn't fair, but seeing it so badly upfront made it hard to understand the Fates in that moment.

A knocking at the door pulled Old Quil from his memories. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam pass through the opening door. "Afternoon, Elder," Sam's hoarse voice from his days of tears and pleas crossed the room.

"Samuel," the elder acknowledged in a monotone voice. He then noticed what the young man held in his right hand; there held firmly was a vase of for-get-me-nots. In that moment the elder sighed aloud before shaking his head in disappointment as he exited the room and closed the door behind him. He knew this would not go well.

Unlike the rest, Old Quil knew she had faced hell head on more than once and not to expect much from her; and that there was a process to this that needed be done. However, others expected her to be how she looked. Frail, broken down, and looking for a savior (Nobody fit that set of views better then Sam). The tribal elder couldn't blame the boy as he was looking to absolve his guilt. He was longing to protect her like he once did by thinking that if he showed his protection and just gave trinkets from the past, it would show he never stopped caring and he would break through her barrier making him once again be her knight.

It was only Old Quil who understood all Sam and everyone else were doing was bringing up a painful past that she wasn't ready to share and that she wanted to forget; and every time they pushed all they managed to do was build the wall not only higher but also re-enforce it, because all of them, most of all Sam, could not see she wasn't that seven year old girl anymore.

Who she was or is nobody, not even Old Quil, knew fully as she would not speak; all he did know was the girl was strong willed, a fighter, and ever so angry because it reflected in her eyes. When it came to speech the only person to hear words cross her lips was the young chief. Old Quil wondered at times if Jacob were here would the girl have spoken again? It was not the boy's fault he was forced to visit the Makah reservation right now as he had to accompany Harry to the neighboring tribe for relationship meetings.

Old Quil did not miss the fight the boy gave his dad about staying here; and the look in his eyes as he stared at the door that concealed the girl that first night before he was forced to leave to prepare for his trip. Sarah was right, there was an imprint magic already pointing the boy like a compass to the right path. Again the old man sighed; he hoped he and the young chief were able to mend some of the damage done; otherwise their land, their lives and heritage would fall without the girl's allegiance.

The sound of the ticking grandfather clock made him fret as he knew one day Sarah would send for the girl because it was the only recourse left after what Billy poured so carelessly down the drain. All Old Quil could do was hope bonds were set into place for when the time came.

It felt as if a pilot light had been struck inside her heart, causing her to feel a spark of anger and rage at hearing his voice. Every day that he came, every time he would open his mouth, every damn time he would spew his lies.

'I didn't want to leave. I missed you so much. I worried every day. I've been miserable without you.' Oh, there were so many more, but her personal favorite lies were, 'I love you, Bella' and, 'I'm here for you'.

All those words just caused the spark to grow inside her heart. She wasn't listening to him now, just fighting her hardest to drown him out so she stayed in her position towards the wall hoping out of sight out of mind would work. 'If it didn't keep Joshy away, what would make it keep his mini me away?' she scoffed to herself.

"Bella, stop acting like a spoiled child and talk to me-" snapped out of his mouth and cut through her efforts

'Spoiled Child! And Talk to you?' raced through her mind and almost shot out her mouth as another spark went off. If not for her quick reaction to clamp her jaw and literally bite her tongue, the words would have poured out of her mouth with a rancor that was more than appropriately due in her mind.

Her heart started to ache now, not from remorse or hurt, but from the pressure it was building with each strike to that spark. She couldn't believe his plea, she couldn't believe any of these people's pleas.

They acted like she was a broken little girl. Sure she might have a fractured wall but who wouldn't after watching everything you loved, everything you had die not just before your eyes but in your arms. They acted like she was unable to care for herself. Oh, how wrong they were; she learned all about life and its harsh ways years ago. She had survived the streets at the tender age of seven. They acted like she should be grateful for them taking her in when they haven't taken her in. No, Manny took her in. To her they were holding her prisoner; they made it seem like she should jump into trust with the people that left her without looking back.

They acted like she was afraid to speak out of fear or due to the possibly of being unable to speak, causing their tones to become placating and broken down to basic sentences. Sure she wasn't very well versed as she had only spent a few weeks in an actual school, and what she did know was from Manny's kindness. He taught her all of what he knew; while it wasn't a lot, it was more than she knew when she came to him; and for a man that never attended school himself, she still had no doubt that he taught her well.

Her jaw clenched as the reality of everything began to boil causing her to bite down on her tongue harder in an effort to keep silent, resulting in a coppery taste to fill her sensory glands. The taste was disturbing and vile, making her want to gag and spit the offending taste from her mouth but she would show no sign of disturbance. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of it or allow him any sign that could be misread as she was attempting possible self-harm.

She knew that impression of her would solidify their thoughts of her being nothing but a broken girl. She had no idea why none of them could understand her anger, were they really that conceited and self-righteous? Have they never been betrayed? Had their lives all be nothing but lollipops and rainbows?

She had lost everything, watched it all die before her very eyes. While they didn't know any of that, any thought of telling anyone anything that night went out the window when they called the police on her.

Two men out there (she could remember one of their names Harry, but not the other) and her brother threw her to wolves the last time she had crossed their paths. They turned on her and never made the effort to save her; just threw her to the wolves, known as the police, the social workers, foster system, the streets, and the Cullen's. They never made an effort to save her; as they had no quarrel to sign her over to the state like her sperm donor had done.

But now they wanted to be her saviors but they all proved themselves the same liars as soon as that blue uniform walked into her room; it was like history repeating itself again. It was the first step back to foster care. It always started with medical treatment and then when you are most vulnerable, the police come with their questions and threats; then came the false hope and then the social workers and finally the foster family, which led to servitude.

She felt another strike to the spark in her aching heart and it almost made her flinch, as she thought of how in all reality this was all her fault and Manny's. She shouldn't have listened to him and that damn letter; because this was all wrong and this wasn't the best or safest place to be. The streets of L.A, the sleeping on fire escapes, the dumpster diving all seemed a much better option right now because that was familiar; and in that life you had to be constantly moving, constantly busy. It never allowed you to fall prey to time or to wallow in your thoughts or pain.

An unsuspected movement and presence before her and the quick breeze that fluttered by her face broke her from her inner ranting. Focusing her eyes off the wall she saw her bother had finally became tired of talking to her back and had come around to face her. She wondered what had took him so long to do so; maybe he was trying to give her space but decided she wasn't going to break, so he decided to force his hand. Whatever it was she was now face to face with one of her most painful parts of her past.

Being careful not to make eye contact, she focused on his features and could see he was motioning to something on the bed. She felt her brow furrow in confusion at his gesture but non-the-less she tried to glance down, only to be blinded to what lay next to her due to her angle. Glancing upward again she could see him still gesturing to something with a hopeful maybe happy expression that adorned his features.

She knew curiosity killed the cat, but couldn't stop herself from rolling onto her back and pushing herself up, using her pillow as a prop. Slowly she reached down with her left hand and felt the crisp material in her fingers; she knew it was paper, which only confused her more. Why and how could he believe paper would matter to her. As she pulled the paper into her line of sight, her breath hitched. There in her hands was the program from that last Christmas; the last time she believed in magic and happily ever after.

"Bella?" his voice cutting through her floundering memories, causing her head to cock towards him to show she had heard him; but her eyes never left the stained and fragile crinkled paper before her.

"See. I always held on, always thought of you, always had a piece of you with me," a small pause hung in the air as if meant to let Bella adsorb all that was said. "So see, I never forgot," his voice soft but confident as he gestured his head towards the left, causing Bella to whip her head in that direction and in that moment her heart felt as if it stopped. There sitting on the bedside table was something so familiar from a day long ago. A vase. A vase filled with for-get-me-nots, causing memories to fly forward.

Sam talking about how they were leaving, but that didn't include her; and that she was going to live with Josh and that it was for the best. Sam making more promises to placate her. Sam turning and walking out without hesitation and without a glance backwards. Bella's icy green eyes shot to the hopeful brown ones before her, just as the memory of the vase flying through the air came to the forefront, bringing the rage with it and becoming the ignitor to the built up spark in her heart. Suddenly it felt as if her heart exploded and was pumping nothing but rage into her veins. In her mind's eye as the vase hit the door, she dropped the program and threw herself over the edge of the bed. Sam didn't move away from his sister; he didn't know what raced through her mind, he didn't and couldn't see past his hope as he took her movement as he had broke through to her. As the memory of the glass shattering against the door took front and center in Bella's mind, her left fist balled up just before it contacted with Sam's jaw, knocking him back into the wall then finally onto the floor.

Sam groaned in pain as he cradled his face and had him wondering exactly what had happened. The looming shadow over him had him looking up and into the icy green eyes of his baby sister.

Sam didn't get it. He didn't understand what he had done wrong to cause her to attack him. He couldn't believe his sister, his frail, tripped over her own two feet baby sister had knocked him straight back and with almost enough force to knock him out. "What the hell, Bella? What do you want from me? What more can I do or say to show I'm here and care?" he bit out in his confusion, frustration and desperation.

The rage still burned, but she couldn't help but feel the twinge of hurt at his words. She glanced at the offending objects; she couldn't believe how Sam acted like everything was going to be okay now. How those trinkets were supposed to mean something good, but all they meant to Bella was betrayal. He had given her a program in the hospital (one from a game he went to with the two men) and for-get-me-nots right before he walked out on her for the second time. And now he believed giving those items again was going to be the saving grace? To show that he cared? It truly showed Bella he didn't know her and that he didn't remember anything of that painful day.

"Really, Sam? You ask me what the hell?! How about what the hell is wrong with you? Huh?" she snarled as she glared down at the boy she once proudly called her brother. "You really believed these things would be your saving grace, that they would show me how much you care?" she roared as she reached out, tearing the program in half then into more, and more pieces letting it fall to the floor, before grabbing the vase and throwing it not at the door this time but right above Sam's head, allowing the shattered glass, broken flowers and water to rain down on him.

As the sound of the impact echoed through the room, it caused the door to fly open. Bella didn't need to look to know she had now called all the household occupants to save Sam from his crazy, broken sister. A sneer crossed her lips as she bent down, keeping eye contact with him and never breaking it until she reached his ear. "Guess I just showed you how much they mean to me and how little you know about me, because anyone who knew me would know not to gift me things from the second most painful day of my life," she growled as she pulled away from him and charged for the door. Some girl, she believed to be her brother's girlfriend, was yelling, as the old man who tended her, stood to the side looking amused, and the woman who always treated her as a fragile doll that needed placating blocked her path.

With her head held up high, she shouldered the woman out of her way, causing her to suck in a sharp breath from the contact of her shoulder wound. She could hear her protests and threats to call that cop but none of it stopped Bella as she sprinted out the front door and into the freedom of the forest around her. Following the smell of salt, she continued to run as fast as her bare feet would take her, ignoring the stinging from the plants, branches and leaves on her legs and arms that were left open to attack due to the shorts and t-shirt she was given to wear.

She didn't know exactly where she was going or why she was following the salty breeze. What she really wanted was to run to the truck and get the hell out of this place, but like everything from her old life, it laid dead. By now the truck was in its final resting place, a junkyard, where what was left was being stripped apart to meet someone else's needs and ideas of perfection.

As her bare feet touched the grains of sand and her eyes focused on the horizon, the irony wasn't lost on her. She too was at her final resting place. This was where she was going to be stripped apart with the intention to rebuild her to their idea of perfection.

There we have it. Old Quil's insight and Bella's full reaction to Sam. As well as getting some idea on how Sam sees the situation.

While I'm sure most would like instant forgiveness, it just isn't possible no matter what the truth may be and how Sam was a puppet in all this. It just wouldn't be realistic for Bella to come back and just say okay I forgive you, and listen to every word Sam or anyone there has to say as to her they are the people who left her, so of course she sees them as liars.

Next Chapter, We get to see Sam's mind set.

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