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

As we get into the meat and potatoes of my long but necessary author note, I apologize for loading up a lousy copy of this unreadable chapter.

Been out of the game for so long. I forgot how to post and did not even check it.

Hopefully, with a repost, you guys can give us another try again. I apologize for my massive error.

A/N: Hi, I know it's been an incredibly long while between updates (years, to be exact).

So, I hope that you are still with me and possibly excited about an update.

IMPORTANT AUTHORS NOTE! DO NOT SKIP!

I want to explain my absence. At first, my updates started to become more sparse due to being a full-time stay-at-home mom to two rowdy young kids. Leaving me exhausted at the end of that day. While I still found time to write, suddenly, time became scarce. From ballet lessons and recitals to soccer practice and games to finally my son starting to play ice hockey (followed by his sister starting hockey too) and full-time work on our ranch and teaching the kids to ride and rope time seemed complicated to find to write.

As my children entered school age, I hoped to get more time. However, my plan to keep up with this story faded when my world crashed.

It was a typical day till it wasn't. After a late practice, I was feeding my children a late dinner when a knock came to the door at 9 p.m.

Through the peephole, I saw a pastor and a policeman, and in that moment, all my years as an army wife told me what I was about to hear (we were out of the army 3 years at that point. You're not supposed to get these visits once you become a civilian family).

My world shattered when I opened that door. My unwanted visitors informed me what I already knew: my husband of sixteen and half years was killed. The man I loved with my whole being my rock, my soul mate, was gone. I died that day, too, in a way; everything became blank, and my once bright future left me in the dark and lost in a forest of uncertainty. I was alone in the world, with no family and no friends.

But I had two small children, so I picked myself up (they needed me to be strong), and I began to stumble down that dark path, carrying forward not for me but for our two children. They lost their dad and, in some ways, lost their mother too due to my grief, but I knew I needed to focus on them the most.

The drive and inspiration I once had to write were entirely dulled out by my grief, PTSD, and severe anxiety. The spark was gone, the pain too much. He was my biggest supporter, and without him, I was lost (and still am).

But I had to go on for my kids. They needed me more, which also helped extinguish my desire to write, as I wanted to keep their lives as normal as possible. So I swallowed the grief and became mom and dad; I strived (still do) to help my kids live out their goals and dreams and do my best to make sure this tragedy wouldn't hold them back and ruin their self-confidence or their future.

It's now been five and half years since that fateful day that changed our lives. My children are flourishing and happy and reaching their dreams.

However, I still struggle with losing my other half; maybe it's because I haven't had time to fully grieve yet, or perhaps it just takes a long time to mourn not only the loss of your soulmate but the family, goals, and dreams you once had. Also, maybe it's because you have to grieve not only the loss of your loved one but the loss of the person you were and the life you lived.

You have to learn to be someone else, and that's a challenge on its own going through that discovery.

I'm not healed, but I have learned there is no time frame in that process, and that's okay. It's okay to feel sad, to mourn, to cry, to curse the world and the people who took him for me and our children.

But now, my kids are living their dreams and succeeding. My therapist pushed me to do something to get back to something that I liked to do.

With her encouragement, I opened up old notebooks and reviewed everything I wrote before my world shifted.

Some of it seemed odd looking back at what I wrote (even if they were rough drafts of finished chapters).

I know this wasn't the most upbeat story. Still, as I looked through, I decided if I was to do this, I needed to continue on the original Storyline (my muse was gone, so I hoped sticking with the original story would help spark the muse to return).

I can't know if anyone will still want to continue reading this or has just moved on.

But I want to try and find this part of me again. My husband and I believed in the story (even if it's a slow-burn story).

Please understand my absence and be patient with me. I have worked a lot on some chapters. I can't say my writing is still at the level it was; I hope it is or will be again as I move forward.

I will post as regularly as possible. I can't promise chapter release dates or a time schedule. I hope to finish this story (though sometimes I get stuck, and the ideas don't come as quickly or easily).

But I will keep going even if, at times, updates are spaced out. I hope to continue to entertain and meet your expectations (yes, the story will still be slow-burning, but like me, these characters have a lot of healing to do).

With all that said, when it comes to chapters, you know mine are usually not short. A refresher of the previous chapter or chapters before this might be helpful if where we left off is not fresh in your memory.

This is a LONG one, so get comfy and be ready to absorb a lot of information and some surprises along the way (as these following chapters play out) as we delve back into the thick of the story.

I'm nervous to post this, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you all like this continuation of peridot redemption.

I am nothing more than

A little boy inside

That cries out for attention

Yet, I always try to hide

'Cause I talk to you like children

Though I don't know how I feel

But I know I'll do the right thing

If the right thing is revealed

'Cause it's always raining in my head

Forget all the things I should have said

Song~Epiphany

Artist~Staind

A heavy wind began to stir, forcefully pushing at Quil's back, causing him to snicker; he knew the spirits themselves could sense his reluctance and were trying to urge him forward into the melee brewing just above him on the old deck.

With a heavy sigh at the thought of what he was about to step into, one of his grandson's comic book ramblings came to the forefront of his mind. "with great power comes great responsibility," grumbled through his thoughts as much as he hated those cartoon booklets, his grandson spent hours obsessing over, he couldn't at that moment deny the truth in such a phrase.

He did not start this fire; however, he was the only one that could contain it. He was the eldest member of the tribe and knew this responsibility lay solely at his feet. These years in this mortal skin gave him many lessons. One, in particular, was to live in the grey area. Blurring the lines between black and white taught Old Quil that he could be a more effective leader when he didn't hardnose one line. Each side had a point, a reason that deserved to be seen, heard, and considered.

A slightly more aggressive gust forcefully applied pressure on his back. "You know, any harder, and you'll be knocking me down, and who will be sorting this mess out with me in the hospital, laid up with a broken hip?" He muttered gruffly before again making his way forward, pausing to cautiously examine the Uley's back deck and its death trap of steps that led upward. "This death trap makes Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom look easy," he snorted, feeling slightly as if he had drawn the short straw.

Old Quil knew taking on an incensed werewolf was no easy task. However, compared to the burden ahead, the old man felt he would have better odds of success with the hothead hybrid and an overly emotional young girl.

With another strong gust showing the spirit's impatience, the old man Resigned to his drawn straw. He took hold of the rickety banister as he slowly ascended the dilapidated steps of the Uley's back porch. He was sure to use his staff for extra support as a silent prayer muttered from his weathered lips each time the step managed to hold. As his feet finally hit the lightly snow-covered boards of the deck, he breathed a sigh of relief that he managed to make the ascent unscathed. 'it might not be Everest, but the risk seems on par,' mused through his thoughts as a coy smirk played at his lips.

His moment of victory at conquering the Uley's backyard gambit was short-lived as raised voices caused his attention to return to tonight's disaster.

For the briefest moment, he wondered how they could have missed the spectacle he displayed as he climbed the creaking death trap no more than three feet from where the combatants squared off.

His keen eyes took in the three antagonists before him, and their round-robin bickering, never one of them taking any responsibility, only shouting ridiculous theories at their part in the fallout as Each player in the soap opera before him was the victim of tonight's main event.

He couldn't help but think how this reminded him of a low-budget and poorly acted-out Shakespeare classic like Hamlet. While not entirely the same plot, there were apparent parallels.

Deputy Swan, Claudius: A man who dreamt of ruling a kingdom to prove he was the better choice. Samuel took on the role of Laertes, who was loyal and ready to protect his sister. Lastly, Jacob, how could he not be Hamlet himself? Melancholy, hesitant, headstrong yet impulsive

However, a missing key player in this drama was playing out on this back porch theater. With a frustrated sigh, his eyes shifted and followed the path to the trees, where the girl who embodied the role of the last character in this drama had disappeared to… Isabella, or in this case, Ophelia.

A loud shout of pure frustration caused his old brown eyes to shift back to the three before him. All so selfishly obsessed with their mistakes and unable to take an objective step back to see how their judgment, pride, and selfishness caused Isabella, like Ophelia, to have been damaged, wronged, and led astray by them and this whole damn tribe.

"ENOUGH!" The forcefulness behind that one word caused everything to go silent as three sets of eyes finally took notice of the tribe's Patriarch, who now stood among them.

A twinge of disappointment flashed through old Quil's eyes as they roamed over the three pugilist children before him.

Old Quil's eyes shifted and focused on the one in uniform, appraising him keenly. Sure, this was technically no longer a child, but his actions showed he was no more than a man-child throwing a tantrum.

The deputy was resentful at what he had lost years ago, making him feel inadequate. For years, the young man had channeled that resentment into his work. He hoped to throw himself into his job, and rising from deputy to sheriff would fill the void created long ago that had been imprinted so profoundly on him of not being good enough and feeling like second best. Isabella's case was not just any case; no, it was the one that would vindicate and fill that void by proving he wasn't second best.

The elder's eyes slid to the right to briefly meet the ones of the eldest, Uley. In that brief moment, those eyes became so familiar he had seen that cocktail of emotions in those same eyes eleven years ago on that fateful night of such pain and loss from Joshua as he stood over Renee's lifeless body. He knew Samuel was trying to do the right thing; unfortunately, he was so lost in his guilt, pain, and anger that he was blinded to reality and stuck in the past, in a role that didn't hold up any longer.

Old Quil's gaze traveled further to the fallen chief's son. His eyes showed frustration and panic as a pained expression pulled at his features. The old man knew the young boy felt a pull he didn't understand, and right now, he felt worried, defensive, rejected, and attacked. Old Quil fully understood the boy was ambushed by the situation. Yet, instead of acting in the position he was forced into and demanding to be answered and led, he only reacted.

Old Quil stepped forward with a deep breath to collect his patience, stopping right before the three who had caused all of tonight's grief, trying to decide where to start.

The Patriarch narrowed his eyes, and with reflexes that a man his age shouldn't possess, he rose and rested the tip of his staff on the deputy's chest.

"Tell me, deputy, when has Reservation business become Fork's business? Many crimes have happened within these borders, and they were often turned a blind eye to. So what about this case has caught your relentless interest?" The old man asked, his tone quizzical yet knowing, showing that the question was genuinely Rhetorical between the two as he poked the chest of the flustered officer with his staff. Charlie's hazel eyes flicked away from the man before him, his expression softening while still holding some frustration, yet no words left his lips.

"Again, Why does this case have so much of your focus? Most of all, when so many officers have turned a blind eye to more serious incidents and requests for help?" The elder mused as he pressed the issue again and lowered his cane to assist him in his stance.

For a brief few moments, silence hung in the air. "You know this won't prove you the better man? The answer to that question no longer needed to be proven, Charles. However, your obsession with proving yourself to a ghost is making you prove yourself no better," Old Quil whispered as he eyed the man before him. "Isabella isn't Renee, and she isn't Joshua. Therefore, she shouldn't pay for their mistakes and your pride. There is nothing more to prove. Renee is gone; she cannot undo her choice or see you as the better choice, deputy."

Out of his Peripheral vision, the elder could see Sam's furrowed brow showing his surprise and confusion. In contrast, his eyes showed he also understood what was being implied. The officer before him had loved his mother and was jilted for his father. Now, the deputy appeared to be out hoping to get his payback for being rejected.

Old Quil sighed; he had known Charles since he was a boy, and deep down, he was a good man and a pretty fair officer. He was one of the few that had treated the tribe as equals. However, some of him had been jaded when Renee had broken things off, choosing Joshua over her and Charlie's future.

"Charles…" the elder's voice was soft yet holding a firm edge. "Deputy?" Old Quil's voice now had a pleading tone, causing the deputy's eyes to lift and meet the tribal elder's brown ones. At that moment, Quil Sr. could see the hurt, pain, rejection, and guilt of losing Renee.

"I… I just want justice. I wanted…. I want Joshua to pay." He stammered, his weak voice struggling to put his thoughts into something coherent

"I understand that… but Charles. Isabella is a little girl who was failed by her father, this tribe, and many more. Using her for your big break to finally prove yourself as the better man won't bring you any redemption. That girl has been used enough by so many for their gain… don't make yourself another to use her for personal gain. don't do it in spite… Charles by punishing a young girl for her parent's transgressions. Yes, she did illegal things to survive, not to be malicious," Old Quil sternly whispered, yet his voice holding a tenderness as he took a step forward, placing his withered hand on the officer's shoulder, causing the eyes that shifted away during that speech to snap, back to the older ones before him.

"Renee is gone. You loved her, and she loved you. While that love became one of a friend, you meant the world to her, and it tore her apart how you two couldn't reconcile that friendship. Now you'd know this if you would stop being a stubborn mule and read that letter," the old man softly scolded before his eyes intensified to show what he'd say next would be severe.

"Joshua, he does need to be held accountable, and if you want to find him, do that! but don't use the girl as a pawn in your revenge by using her need for survival to hold her in a cell instead of those who should truly be there." Old Quil paused, taking a step back. "Do you think she did what you implied? Do you think as you stood here and looked at that traumatized child, she intently caused all that hurt?" The elder asked as Charlie's eyes again pulled away in thought.

Silence hung in the air for a brief moment. "No…" a hoarse voice responded as a pair of wet hazel eyes shifted to meet the Patriarch's brown ones. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Sam, Quil Sr, Jacob…." The deputy wiped his eyes

"Renee…" softly whispered from his lips as he again wiped at his eyes. "I should… I need to go," he muttered as old Quil nodded and stepped back, allowing the young man access to the steps. Old Quil watched as the deputy made better work of the staircase deathtrap than he had. As Charlie reached his cruiser, he paused as he opened the door, his wet eyes lifting. "Sam, I'm so sorry, and I'm sorry to Isabella too. I'm going to make this right; nobody will be coming back around for her," his voice more vital yet still holding a cocktail of emotions. Still, his expression and eyes showed the truth in his words.

With a nod of his head and a soft smile, old Quil acknowledged his words, and with that, Charlie entered his car, turned over the motor, flicked on his headlights, and drove off into the night.

'One down,' the elder mentally groaned as he took a deep breath. Old Quil quickly tried to collect his thoughts as his eyes roamed to the dark forest again, while a distant howl caught his attention. Time was becoming increasingly important; the old man knew the aggressive hybrid was hell-bent on taking the girl far away from here and back to their pack, where he believed she would be safest.

With an internal sigh, he wondered where Rosalie stood in all this. She clearly was attached to the girl; hell, she was basically a mother to Isabella, making her decision a wild card.

Would she continue Sarah's planned path, or would she side with the hybrid and her motherly instinct regarding the young girl?

Old Quil pinched his nose in frustration; many variables were in play. He needed a clear head; he couldn't focus on what was happening miles away. No, he needed to push that to the back of his mind. He needed to salvage this disaster, or there wouldn't be any hope for their futures.

Tonight had proved things had gone too far. The elder knew he could no longer play the devil's advocate from a distance.

The Uley family needed to be united. Unfortunately, it had been divided far too long, resulting in a huge rift that proved troublesome to suture shut, all due to the boy's angered and troubled soul and the girl's rebellious and resentful spirit.

The creaking of the boards reminded him he wasn't alone, causing his wise eyes to turn and shift to his left, his keen eyes taking in the boys as he wondered where to start next. A slight movement had his knowing eyes locked onto the eldest Uley. Staring back at the elder was a set of eyes that were a Molotov cocktail of all the emotions burned in them. Old Quil, at that moment, couldn't unsee it. Young Samuel looked exactly like his father as he battled with his demons that fateful night.

The Patriarch knew Samuel was trying to do the right thing. 'trying, being the key word,' muttered through his thoughts as he eyed the boy.

The Uley boy had to grow up quickly, believing he had to be nothing short of a man, especially when it came to caring for young Isabella. However, Sam didn't fully understand that responsibility alone doesn't make you a man; there was more that went into it.

While his love for his sister was admirable, Samuel's judgment was the opposite. He believed everything he did was always in the best interest of his younger sibling when it was more geared towards his selfish need to soothe his guilty heart and soul.

"You, Samuel, look just like your father. Both are unable to accept what is."

"I am-"

"nothing like Joshua?" Old Quil chuckled at the audacity of the Uley boys' denial. "Is that so?" The elder mused as he glanced at the window under the overhanging light. With a sly smile, he raised his staff at the illuminated glass. "So set in your denial; tell me, boy, turn around and have a look," the elder challenged as he saw Samuel's fists tighten and his jaw lock in contempt. "You're so certain in yourself, are you not? So why not have a look, afraid of what you'll see?" The old man challenged as an impish smirk played at his lips.

The standoff was only mere seconds, but it felt like hours.

Slowly, the boy turned to the glass that would show his reflecting image. A sharp breath was taken as his eyes met those of his mirrored image, causing Sam's head to shift away and his balled fists and tight shoulders to lose their tension and go limp.

Old Quil could feel a small set to his jaw as a surge of anger coarse through his veins. He wasn't going to let the boy avoid it. He didn't get to look away just because he didn't like what he saw.

Stepping forward, Old Quil roughly grabbed Sam's chin, forcing him to return to the reflection he had avoided.

"You will face yourself and answer me." The elders snapped as he held the boy's chin, forcing him to meet his own gaze. "tell me, Samuel, if you can't stand seeing it staring back at you, how do you think your sister felt seeing it staring back at her?" he bit out in frustration

"To see that haunting gaze that is a mirror image of your father? Weigh on her with such judgment all as she was confronted by a past that haunts her? And to see it come from the person who has been pleading for her to let him inside her well-guarded walls?" he harshly bit out.

Old Quil knew Samuel needed to remember what it was like to be treated with contempt for doing nothing but existing and surviving.

There would be more fights ahead between the siblings, and while there was no magic switch that would erase the years of such heartbreaking pain.

The elder wanted to ensure that, like tonight, whenever Samuel faced something he didn't want to hear, he would think twice before looking at his sister with that look of contempt he inherited from his father.

Tension finally eased under the old man's tight grasp on Sam's chin as his once-hard eyes shimmered a bit from the wetness of unshed tears. Old Quil now knew Samuel understood, resulting in his once tight grasp falling away from the boy's face, which, without the added support, instantly dropped and looked out.

Old Quil knew this next part would hurt, too, but then again, the truth always did. "Never forget what you saw today looking back at you in that glass. Reacting out of hurt or anger only results in more pain and guilt. And that, my boy, is what this is all about your guilt." The elder sighed as he met Sam's gaze. "We both know deep down you don't care about the accusations against Isabella. No, you lashed out at your sister because you didn't know how to handle your reaction to the truly guilty party…yourself," his tone stoic as he eyed the boy for a moment to ensure he was listening.

"Your guilt is no secret, Samuel. It's haunted you from the moment you walked out of that hospital room of hers and has shown in your eyes ever since."

"All these years, you managed your guilt with the fantasy that Isabella was living a better life. That little white lie you told yourself helped you cope with the fear that haunted the back of your mind."

"Now, after hearing the reality from Officer Swan and Isabella herself. Your guilt became overwhelming; yes, Billy, your grandmother, Joshua, the system, this whole damn tribe helped fuel what happened to her, but what angered you the most, resulting in that shit show tantrum of your's was

your own guilt that you never looked or turned around to find her and shield her from having to face all that. Instead, you stayed here in La Push, living a life of relative ease. At the same time, she fought to live." The austere tone of the elder's voice caused Sam to flinch at their forcefulness as his tan arms slowly rose up and wound themselves around his waist in an attempt to hold himself together.

Old Quil had always known Samuel to be one to bury his feelings, a master of the poker face, as he always felt a need to keep his cards close in an attempt to control the situations around him. It was a lesson he learned as a survival tactic as a young boy who had to handle an abusive father and a frightened sister.

With a deep sigh, Old Quil knew he couldn't let up. He had to press forward if he continued to put the boy on the right path.

"I know you are struggling, Samuel. You expected Isabella to be the same girl she was four years ago. A girl that still needed you to be her caretaker, her hero." he paused to ensure he had the boy's attention.

"Instead, you got something you never expected and struggled to accept that is somewhere in that time apart. Not only has Isabella learned to survive independently, but she also became her hero."

"In every scenario you ever pictured of seeing your sister again, independent, secretive, and self-sufficient are all things you never factored in. Especially when you are rattled with so much guilt you long to make up for."

"As much as you want to be her savior Samuel…. Your sister doesn't need your protection shoved on her, to control her whereabouts, speak for her, to help her up every time she falls, choose her friends, isolating her, making her feel caged!"

"You keep telling yourself it has been in her best interest, but in reality, Samuel, it's been in yours," old Quil bit out before taking a small breath to calm himself. "You are so terrified that if you look away, she will be gone again," his voice stern yet soft; the Patriarch knew a raised voice would only close the boy off and defeat the purpose of this talk, taking another moment to gather his thoughts he took another calming breath before continuing.

"I know it's hard, especially when you feel you have so much to make up for. You have to realize and accept that four years have passed, and in that time, Bella has changed, and now isn't that sickly, frail girl that relied solely on you." Old Quil paused. He felt his voice almost falter as he caught a glimpse of the boy's dejected expression; slowly, he rested his hand on Sam's shoulder in support.

"I know you think that leaving her, not fighting to find her, makes you no better than Joshua," pausing briefly as a soft smile graced his lips. "So listen to me and listen to me good; you are not your father, Samuel. Your actions right now of being able to listen to your mistakes while not fighting those who point them out and being open to change proves that" the elder's tone was soft and reassuring as it also held a hint of pride as he smiled slightly at the young boy.

"Now, though, will be the hard part, and that is taking everything that has been said, accepting it, and putting it into action. You can no longer fight the changes you see. You must accept them because they aren't going away." Old Quil's smile faded as his tone became more stoic, showing the seriousness in his words.

Old Quil applied slight pressure to the hand resting on Sam's shoulder. "Isabella might not need you to be her knight in shining armor anymore, but she still needs you just now as a big brother," his tone reassured as he squeezed Sam's shoulder. "She needs you now to be the person who can make her believe she is safe enough to trust others again. That it is okay to bring down the walls that guard her shattered heart," he smirked as the doubt began to resurface in the young boy's eyes. "I know you wonder how will you do that?" He chuckled slightly

"You do that by showing her that you are sorry for your words and why you said them; in reality, it doesn't matter to you what she might have done in those years apart or what could have happened. You show her that you will always love her for who she is, not who she was or who you wanted her to be. By showing Isabella acceptance of what has transpired and who she is now, you can prove to her that it's okay to be loved and love someone in return again."

"Now, I can guarantee that you will get hurt badly at times, but you must be patient and control your reactions." Old Quil paused as he gave the boy before him a knowing look. "It will be a long road, Samuel, but if you can do that for her, no matter how many times she lashes out, kicks you when you down, or pushes you away, you will find what you are so desperately looking for a relationship with your sister."

"It will be a long, grueling process, but if you can stay the course one day, Samuel, she will embrace forgiveness, and she will forgive you." as the last word fell from the elder's lips, a heavy sob cut Old Quil's words, short as he watched the once welled tears flow freely down Samuel's sullen face. Bringing his other hand up, the elder rested it on the young boy's shoulder, squeezing both sides in support, hoping he understood he wasn't alone.

Out of nowhere, a hand appeared, taking hold of Sam's right arm, causing Old Quil and Sam to jump and turn their heads to see the future chief.

To the elder's amazement, the young boy had remained for the whole conversation with welled tears shining in his bright eyes. He was right there next to his friend, supporting the broken boy.

At that moment, Old Quil felt pride in the future chief. The young boy could have snuck off and tried to save face for his part in this, but he had stayed to support his friend and his future pack brother.

The boy indeed showed Sarah's philanthropic heart had lived on. Proving that Jacob's relationship with the Uley girl would help Isabella along her path of recovery and show her that forgiveness wasn't a weakness. The Patriarch also knew Isabella would teach Jacob that being austere didn't make you a dictator because sometimes hard decisions needed to be made.

The spirits had chosen well with this match as each was the other balance, a proper alpha pair of yin and yang. While that, in a small way, eased his heart, Sarah's visions danced through his head, causing his eyes to move to the woods where the girl had run off and where the hybrid had chased her like a hound from hell, causing Old Quil to grimace again in worry at the wolf's strong attachment to the young girl. As his worried gaze turned back, he saw Jacob's anxious eyes locked onto the dark forest.

He knew Jacob could already feel a pull to Isabella. All Alpha couples felt a pull to one another. They differed slightly from other future pack members. The alpha pairing imprint pulls started early to allow them to build a stronger bond. The spirits felt it necessary to bless the future alphas with this gift to ensure a more cohesive leadership and pack.

He knew right now neither child was quite sure what this strange pull meant. It was just an innate desire to be near and to know the other person. While that desire was compelling and drove their need to interact, just like all imprinting, it would only be complete once the transformation on both ends had occurred.

If one shifted before the other, the new spirit warrior would complete their part. Still, until the other completed their change, the imprint would only be partially complete. In that time, it would resemble a lower pack member imprint where the wolf would be more attached and devoted than the human counterpart.

Old Quil could feel his face contort in worry. At the same time, he knew Jacob felt the pull to Isabella and had subconsciously accepted it. He could also see that Isabella fought back and forth with this strange feeling. After tonight and her assumption of Jacob's hand in this mess due to his lack of assertiveness, the elder worried she would now entirely fight the bond and make Sarah's vision even more frightening.

What if Paul and Rosalie decided to take the girl back with them and never allowed the bond to build. Or what if she did stay here and fought the bond? Causing a rejected imprint to occur. Old Quil couldn't let that happen; he needed to continue to play the devil's advocate, but no longer from a distance; it would be up close now.

Noticing that Samuel's sniffles had weakened, he gave the boy a pat on his shoulders. "why don't you go in and get something to drink, clean up a bit, and send those who remain home," he suggested, only to see Samuel's eyes flick to the forest about to rebuff the idea.

"Send everyone home, and I will find her and bring her back. I'm a third party after all," Old Quil wisely stated while watching the boy war with himself for what seemed forever before shaking his head and agreeing.

Old Quil felt his hands fall to his side as the shoulders they rested upon moved out from under him; the sound of the creaking door caused the old man to recoil in discomfort from the sound, but he was still aware enough for him to grab hold of Jacob's arm causing the boy to pause with a questioning look.

"I might look senile, but I didn't forget you and that we also needed to talk." His voice was a bit more forceful than he would have liked, as his worry for the girl and what would happen when the hybrid caught up with her spurred the old man's anxiety.

He needed to play this chess game better. He couldn't just go for checkmate. He needed to play the board, especially regarding the wild card known as Paul.

Unfortunately, that worry would have to be pushed aside a bit longer; he couldn't leave yet. He needed to prepare Jacob like he had Samuel for the inevitable fallout that would come from tonight.

"Do not think you are innocent in this, boy. You, too, will have to hear the truth and prepare for the fallout to come," the elder's tone stern as he looked intently at the young boy.

"We will talk, but it won't be now. I have more pressing matters to attend to. Just know one day soon, you and I will be chatting," his voice stern as he met the future alpha and chief's eyes.

"do you understand me?" The question caused Jacob to hold the elder's gaze as he nodded yes in understanding. With that, Old Quil released the young boy's arm, allowing him to go after his friend.

The Quileute Patriarch watched momentarily as the future chief pulled open the creaky backdoor. His mind began racing as he hoped to put all this back on course before it veered horribly off track over callous and unspoken words.

Old Quil banished all his worries as the door creaked shut, and he finally stood alone. It was time to play the long game. The old man hastily descended the Uley back steps, hoping that the death trap wouldn't checkmate for him tonight.

As his feet finally hit the soggy earth, he veered to the shack where Isabella kept her old truck. As he yanked open the side door and flicked the switch, he wasted no time making his way to the stack of boxes lined the back wall. Making quick work of the tape that held them shut, the elder collected what he knew he would need for tonight's chess game, providing he wasn't too late.

As he flung the bag strap around his neck and onto his shoulder, he flicked the light off to the tin shack as he exited, taking note that the weather had changed as a drizzle began to fall, causing the old man's face to show his annoyance at this unexpected change. Taking a deep breath to refocus and calm himself, the elder looked around for any unwanted witnesses as he dug down to draw on that tiny bit of his being that remained fae. The elder couldn't hide the wince of pain from his mostly mortal body as he took off at an inhuman speed and launched himself into the surrounding forest. In moments like this, he missed his ever-lasting youth and his once vast access to magic. Quickly shaking off the moment of discomfort, he focused on allowing the forest's magic to guide him to where he would find the big bad wolf, a motherly vampire, and a very distressed Isabella. All while hoping he wouldn't be too late.

I hope this chapter didn't disappoint as we tackled the first part of the fallout. Lastly, please take a moment and review. Each one is very much appreciated; however, as always, flames are not.

Thank you all for reading and your support.