The police had been called since the library was now a homicide crime scene and of course Charlie was riddled with anxiety and worry about my whereabouts. Carlisle told Charlie that I was with them and that I was okay, just shaken up. When I got home, Charlie had gotten up from the couch and hugged me tightly for longer than I was used to but I didn't mind at all. In fact, it felt wonderful.

I had to tell him that my flip phone was gone also and he wasn't entirely pleased about that, but I think the relief of having me home and safe dampened his frustration somewhat.

I got upstairs and changed into a long sleeve top and sweats and began to call in my mind to Paul. I call to him for what feels like hours and there is nothing. No static, no faint voice...just nothing. I'' not sure if he was ignoring me or if he couldn't hear me. I fall asleep listening to the sound of the connection in our minds like white noise.

The next morning I wake up, dress, caffeinate, grab my keys and head to La Push. I pull into the driveway of Billy Black and walk up to the front door. There is still snow and sleet on the ground and it's freezing outside as I knock on the door.

Jake answers and I feel a flood of relief and warmth as he wraps his arms around me.

"Are you okay?" he says, taking my shoulders in his hands.

"Were you there?" I ask, "at the dock?"

"Of course I was," he replies loudly, almost yelling back at me, "you didn't see me?"

"I've never seen you wolf out," I say and he laughs.

"Well you will," he says.

"Are you okay?" I ask, the guilt searing through me as I think about Quil and how it was entirely my fault he was gone.

"I...I'm okay, I guess," he says, "I don't know how to um...how to talk about it, really."

I knew exactly how that felt. "I'm sorry, Jake," I say and the guilt starts to squeeze at my chest, "if it wasn't for me, he'd still be alive."

"Bella, no stop," he says, taking me in his arms and I feel myself starting to fucking cry...again. "Quil...he knew the risks and we had no idea about the wolfsbane, you can't blame yourself."

I can and I will, because it is my fault. "Thanks Jake," I say and he squeezes me a little tighter and the warmth starts to make me feel a little better.

"Jake," and he pulls away to look at me, "where's Paul?"

"Oh um," he begins and then chews on his lip, "he left after the Cullens took you."

"He left? To where?" I ask, feeling the anxiety begin to creep up the back of my neck. God not this again...not again.

"I'm not sure, but we can ask Sam, he might know a little more," he says, as his eyes shine with hope and I feel like my heart is drowning. I won't go through this again, not after everything we've discovered that was special between us. He wasn't going to just leave.

"Can you do..." and I pointed to my temple, "you know the wolf thing?"

And he makes that detached expression as he communicates with the wolves. His face remains relaxed and somewhat vacant, his eyes flitting from one thing to another occasionally and then he snaps out of it.

"Sam said he'll be here in ten minutes," he says and pulls me inside, closing the door behind me.

"He will?" I say, sort of bewildered.

"Yeah, he wants to talk to you," and he takes my hand and leads me to the couch where I sit down next to the fire. "Coffee?"

"Um yeah, sure," I say as I watch him retreat into the kitchen and grab a few mugs. I rub the tops of my legs as I stare into the fire, the heat of it creeping up my cold legs.

"You still like honey in it, right?" he asks from over the counter.

"Yeah," I say and I remember asking Paul about that, in one of our nightly conversations that felt like years ago...he liked cinnamon in his coffee. I feel it happening again and I will it back as much as I can...I will not fucking cry again.

"Here ya go," he says and I reach up to grab the mug. "You okay? You look like you're gonn-,"

"Don't...just don't please," I say, and dammit if those god-forsaken tears weren't already starting to spill over my eyeballs. I slap them away and drink my coffee.

The door opens and Sam is stepping through with Emily and she is more beautiful in person than in the pictures I saw at their cottage. The deep jagged scars along her face somehow made her look strong and even more beautiful. I set my coffee down on the coffee table and stand as they enter the living room.

"Sam I'm so sorry about everything, about Quil, I had no idea-," and he wrapped his arms around me and fuck I'm crying, there's no helping it now as I put my arms around him and sob.

"Bella, it wasn't your fault," he says softly into my hair.

"But it was," I hiccup into his chest.

He pulls away from me and looks me in the eyes, "you had no control over what happened, none of this was on you."

But it is my fault. "Okay," I say to him as I wipe my nose.

"Bella this is Emily," and he steps to the side so I can see her more clearly and she is absolutely breathtaking with her raven black hair that runs down to her low back in a loose braid, her bright brown eyes that are warm and kind, her high cheekbones and full mouth.

"Hello Bella," she says and she puts her hand out and I take it.

"Hi Emily," I say, "it's nice to meet you."

"Sam, Bella is looking for Paul," Jake interrupts from the side and I'm grateful.

Sam turns to look at me again and says, "have you been trying to contact him?"

I nod, "it's silent though."

Sam nods and his brow furrows, "Bella when you got bit, the Cullens took you, Edward specifically carried you away."

"Okay," I say, hoping he'd continue.

"I think Paul believes that since Edward is back that you are going to reunite with him," Sam says and I scoff.

"Where is he?" I say, drying my face as I begin to step into more of my anger which gives me a little more drive and directive.

"We aren't sure, he just left a day ago and has been silent," Sam says.

"Can he hear me? Is he ignoring me?" I ask, looking at both Emily and Sam.

"I think he's tuned out from everyone," Sam says.

"He can probably feel that people are trying to connect, like a ring on a phone but more subtle, in the mind...like an itch that you want to scratch but you don't," Emily says.

Interesting. Then I remembered something else.

"Why didn't Paul die from the wolfsbane?" I ask.

Sam and Emily look at eachother. "We think it was the imprint, Bella."

"What?" I breathe, arching my brows a bit.

"Your imprint bond is very strong, we've never seen anything like it," Emily says, "you can heal one another. You somehow kept the wolfbane from spreading, allowing him to heal."

"Oh," I say and I don't know what to say, I just wanted to be wherever he was..."how do I find him?"

"I think if anyone can find him, you can Bella," Emily says, reaching her hand out and placing it on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"But, he could be anywhere," I say and I feel my panic start to creep up my back at the prospect of looking for him forever and never finding him.

"Bella, you can use your bond to find him. You will always be drawn to one another and therefore you will always be able to find one another. You just have to try," Sam says as he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over the top.

"Okay," I say and give them both a tight smile.

*

I have no idea how to do this. No one has given me a handbook or a guide on "how to use an imprint bond to find the wolf that ran away from you." I sit in the driver's seat of my truck with my head on the steering wheel, breathing slowly, because my I feel my frustration spider crawling up from the floor and eeking into my chest and I'm about to scream.

And maybe it was meant to be this way in the end; me getting my just desserts for falling for another supernatural being. One would think after the first go round I would get the hint...maybe I'm just that dense, or stubborn...

I did a mental exercise of putting myself in his position on the beach that day so I could understand why he made the choice he did; watching him being carried off by the one person he tried for months to get over and most likely seeing the way they looked at him, like he was everything...and I suppose I get it, maybe. It seems more of a male pride thing to me which I find to be absolutely infuriating and it's the most ridiculous part of romance novels that make me want to throw the book across the room. If you would have gotten over yourself and swallowed your pride, maybe things wouldn't have gone so wrong for so long. But then I suppose, stubborn male pride makes for good drama in the end...but I'm seriously going to punch him when I find him.

When I find him.

I need to keep that in mind and allow it to permeate into my downward spiral of confusion and dis-ease; because I want to begin the process of finding him...but it's like someone has set me down in the middle of nowhere with nothing but shoes and a "best of luck."

So here I am, dropped in the middle with just my shoes...but there's more than that. I have our connection, our bond, the imprint that will be my compass to find him: my true North.

"You will always be drawn to one another and therefore you will always be able to find one another. You just have to try," Sam's voice is like a part of a map suddenly appearing in my subconscious; and even though the lines are confusing and I'm not sure what the symbols on the key mean, they're there and I had to figure it out...I was going to figure it out.

I inhale deeply and straighten up, gazing steadily at the street where I'm parked. I'm still at home, at Charlie's and I'm making the choice to take a trip, to the road that leads to him and as I close my eyes, I feel first and foremost...my longing, my desire, my love for him and it reaches like sunbeams through the murky fog, cutting through and burning away the moisture with heated accuracy; and the picture is blurry...it's unsteady and pixelated but if I look harder I can see dark hair, long muscular limbs and there's colors around him...a myriad of deep and light grays and blues, a smattering of green on the periphery and moving splotches of white...it's cold...and it smells, fresh, but also like salt, eucalyptus, and pine...I have and have not been here. It's nostalgically unfamiliar, which is an oxymoron I know, but how do I describe somewhere I have and have not been before? I try to move closer because I see his back...see his arms propping him up like an A frame. I am drifting, like a cloud over to him and moving around to see that his eyes are closed, even in the spotty, pixelated, blurry mess that is this connection. I want him to open his eyes, want to see those specks of green that beckoned me into his heart and he to mine.

Open your eyes.

And I'm amazed to see that he acquiesces, opening and I see the blurry pools of brown and they're there...calling out to me and I feel my heart begin to stutter; the green.

...Bella...

I hear him whisper, barely audible over the rushing white noise sounds of where he sits and then I am pulled back, like being tugged off stage by giant cane and back into my body.

"A beach," I whisper softly as my eyes pop open in the cabin of my truck, sudden awareness washes over me as the first task in this process of finding him sinks in and I meet it with newfound vigor. I pry open the glove compartment of my truck and pull out a map of Washington State. I grab a pencil (shocking that there is one in my glove compartment, but there you have it), and begin to trace the routes to all the beaches up to Canada, because for some reason, I knew he wouldn't go South. It doesn't make any sense why I felt like it was true, but again nothing made sense and was correct all the same.

I look at my scribbled pencil mess on my map and I have a plan...it was going to take me god knows how long, but I was going to find him. I walk back into Charlie's house and head upstairs to my room. I find a duffle bag and begin to pack clothes (basically all my sweatpants, jeans, and oversized sweatshirts), toiletries and as I walk back into my room to pack undergarments, I come across a few lace pairs I had picked up while I was at the mall. They were two different shades of green...his favorite color. I shove them in my bag.

I leave the duffel bag on my bed and head downstairs. I decide that I need to do this differently with Charlie. The last time I left him it was abrupt and dishonest, and I broke his heart. I refuse to do that again. I need to do this right and make sure he's in the loop this time, that he knows I'll be okay...that he knows where I am.

Since I had gotten the job at the library, I had saved every penny (okay I bought the top and skirt, but that was it). So I used it to get a cheap new cell phone with limited minutes so that I could call Charlie and keep him posted on my progress. I also went to the store and bought steak, potatoes, and bought him more beer; I wanted him to be well buttered up and have every base covered so that when I tell him, I hope that the blow will glance instead of bruise and break.

I got home and had about two hours before Charlie came home from work, so I went over my first few stops, where I would be staying...I hadn't thought about what I would do when I was there, but I figured I could reach out the way I had in my truck earlier today. Examine and interpret each connection with him when I am able to establish it to know it more intimately so that I could interpret it more accurately; become an expert of our imprint connection so to speak.

I was finishing up the steaks when Charlie walked in the front door, placing a large helping of mashed potatoes on a plate and his dripping medium cooked ribeye on the other side of the plate and placed it on the table. He's looking at me like he did whenever he knew something was up and he dialed up his observation to give himself a clue as to what exactly it was.

"Hey Dad, I made dinner," I say. His eyebrows remain still and his eyes sharp as he watches me grab a beer, cracking it open from the fridge.

"I can see that, thank you Bells," he says, hanging his coat up on the rack by the door. He sits at the kitchen table in front of the plate of food...he stares at it like it's a puzzle.

"You gonna eat it or buy it a drink?" I say laughing.

"What's going on Bella?" he asks as his eyes drift up to me. I turn to load up my plate, my back to him. I blink my eyes slowly, taking a deep breath.

"Can't I make you dinner?" I ask, knowing that if anyone sees through me with heartbreaking accuracy, like I was as translucent as pure glass, it was Charlie. That and his intuition was stupid good.

"Yes," he says and he picks up his beer, "but this isn't that, is it?"

Fuck, Charlie.

I exhale deeply, "can't you be dense for like, five minutes?" I ask with a laugh as I turn to look at him, but he's not smiling.

"No, Bella I can't," he says, "not with you."

That...that was bittersweet. Bitter in the sense that I could not get away with a damn thing, sweet in the way that he is doing what Paul does and I never paid it any mind...he's seeing me. My eyes prickle again as I open the fridge, pull out a beer and crack it open, taking a long swig.

"Jesus," he says as he pushes the plate away from him, "you aren't pregnant are you?"

I sputter out some of the beer as I choke out, "fuck, Dad...no. No I'm not," I wipe my mouth setting the beer down on the counter, "and if I was, I don't know if I'd be drinking that."

He exhales deeply and takes another sip of his beer, "not quite ready for that, Bells."

"Don't worry, it's not that," I laugh and put my plate on the table opposite Charlie, snag my beer and sit down.

"If it isn't that, then why does all this," as he gestures to the dinner, "feel so scary?"

I poke my potatoes with my fork, "because I do have to talk to you about something."

His face is killing me. It looks like it did when Renee left, like he's getting ready for something he isn't quite ready to face yet... "let's hear it."

I clear my throat. "I need to take a trip," I say as I push my steak around as I say the words, hoping the fidgeting will keep my mind from flying all over the place. "Up the coast and possibly into Canada."

"When?" he asks, taking another long drink of his beer.

"Tomorrow," I say with a little less confidence.

"Tom,-" and he shifts in his seat, "Bella what about school?"

"I signed up for the GED exam. I'm going to study while I'm on my trip and take it at a testing center in Tacoma."

"How are you going to study while you're driving?" he asks.

"Study guide on tape," I say.

"How am I going to get a hold of you?" he says, gripping his beer, "what if you get into trouble?"

I pull out the new cell phone I bought and hand it to him. "I put the number on the fridge. I have limited minutes, but I'll only be using it for emergencies or calling you for updates."

"I...Bella I don't like this," he says, "you're young, you're beautiful, and forgive me, but you're a young woman and alone. You're making yourself a target."

"I'll keep to myself, not go anywhere that seems suspicious," I say.

"No, Bella, it's too dangerous, you can't go alone," he says like it's final.

I don't want to play this card...I really don't but..."Dad, I'm eighteen now, technically I can go whether you want me to or not," I say quietly.

Fuck...fuck...I hate myself now. He looks miserable and angry...and all he's asking, all he's wanting is for me to be safe.

"Yes well, I don't think going across the border into Canada by yourself is a great idea, Bella. Use your head, it's not safe," he said.

He's not wrong...but what choice do I have.

We're quiet for a long few minutes, our dinner getting colder as we sit in silence.

"Okay, Bella...I'll let you go," he says finally and I can't for one second believe what I'm hearing... "under one condition," and there it is...most likely an impossible condition that will keep me from going... "you have to bring someone with you, a friend preferably, someone who could maybe protect you, but as long as you aren't by yourself."

I scoff, because there are very few people that are in my immediate circle of "friends," I can tolerate being around for longer than fifteen or twenty minutes before I'm overstimulated or just overall irritated...very few except one...

"Jacob," I say quietly.

His eyes slide up to mine and they stay there for several seconds as he contemplates. Then his eyes drop as he pulls his plate in front of him and begins cutting his steak.

"You'll have to clear it with Billy first," he says and for the first time in a while, I feel like things might be going in the right direction.

*

The good thing about talking to Billy about bringing Jacob on this trip with me is that he knows all the details Charlie doesn't. He knows about the imprint and how powerful it is, what it means to the wolves and to his tribe. It was something that was sacred and he held reverence for it...but it also meant that his youngest son would be away for longer than he had ever been in his life, and he was also still in school. That was a process that took a little extra time but Jacob and I found a way for him to complete his school year through a homeschool program and frequent check-ins with Billy.

It also meant that I would be leaving later than the next day from my talk with Charlie, which was annoying, but Charlie's logic was sound and his condition entirely doable. He was being my father first and loving me and supporting me despite his reservations. He never asked me why I needed to go, which was a surprise but a part of me wondered if he might understand I was on my way to find something. Perhaps Renee had paved the way for that mentality, but either way it made me realize how much I appreciate Charlie and how he loved me.

The day I am set to leave, Charlie loads up my duffle bag and pulls me into his chest and kisses my head. He's warm and his cologne is spicy and sharp; I feel safe as his takes a breath into my hair.

"Please be careful," he says softly.

"I love you, Dad," I say into his chest.

"I love you too, Bella," he says, clearing his throat and he squeezes my arms as I pull away and see a tear running down his cheek. He swipes it away and smiles weakly. "Call me when you get to Shelton," he says, walking around with me to open the driver's side door, closing it for me after I slide in and strap my seatbelt.

"I will Dad," I say, slotting my key into the ignition and I look up to him one more time as he holds his hand up, smiling as I put the truck in drive and press on the accelerator towards the main street. My eyes flick to the rearview mirror and I see him run his hand over his face as he slowly walks back to the house. I swipe a few tears away as I turn onto the road leading to the forest of La Push.

Jacob is waiting outside for me with Billy as I pull up and Billy wheels down with him as he loads up his duffle bag in the truck. Jacob gives Billy a big hug and jogs over to the passengers side, sliding in and I notice his legs barely fit as his knees nearly touch his chest...and I think of Paul and how his legs did the same, the fiery ache in my chest surged at the fleeting memory.

"Take care of eachother," Billy says from outside the truck, "and Bella," he says, tapping the driver's side and I look over into his kind brown eyes, "you'll find him."

I smile and say, "thanks Billy."

He waves and I step onto the accelerator, heading towards the freeway.

And as I drive, Jacob and I talk about things that matter and don't matter, laugh hysterically at all the things in between and it's comfortable. I'm grateful he's here with me. I'm grateful he understands what this means to me and what I hope it will mean for Paul when we find him.

And I don't let myself think "if," because it's not allowed in my vocabulary right now. I can't let myself think about, "if," because I will implode...I will spiral...and I need to keep the fire stoked and "if," will be the wet blanket to extinguish what I have started. I know Jacob won't let me think of "if," either and I'm relieved as we drive a few hours until we reach the first beach.

It doesn't fit. That's the only way I can explain it. We arrived as dusk began to set in and it was cold, briny, with dark grays...but it wasn't it. There were too many variables that didn't align in my mind and in that part of me that is connected to him. I let that part lead the way like a compass, like where he was was the magnet that pulled me forward...into his orbit.

Jacob came up to me as I stood on the beach knowing it wasn't the right one and took my hand. "It would have been pretty remarkable if the first one was the one," he says and I smile weakly at him as I watch the sun sink lower over the horizon.

"Yeah, it would have," I whisper over the sound of the waves lapping over the shore. I close my eyes and go to him...I push myself towards him and the blur of color comes back, the pixelated view of dark hair, and a tall muscular body on the deep gray sand, the glittering surface of the water and the same pink orange paint stroked sky. I pull closer to him, circling round to his front and his eyes are closed again. I got as close as I could get and his features were like looking through the eyes of someone with astigmatism but I could see them...the deep copper of his skin, the sharp angle of his strong jaw, his dark brows, and full lips. I gently brush my lips to his and I hear him sigh.

...mi vida...

I'm coming, Paul...

...mi eternidad...

I love you.

...te amo, mi amor...