TO MY READERS

Thank you.

I have been so blessed to have the support you've given. And your wonderful insight and thoughts. It's inspiring to read your investment in this endeavor. Unfortunately, life has thrown me some recent difficulties that will prevent me from writing consistently at this time. My hope is to continue, as I can. And once everything is finished, I would like to post everything at once.

Thank you, again, for reading.

April 10th, 2006

The night was a cascading avalanche of life and death and love. Every facet of it a raw, gritty tumult that so perfectly echoed the souls of those affected. Two souls that had lived their every moment up 'til then in yielding resistance.

I am blind.

I am a woman of my tribe.

I will not be limited.

And then the night was over. Time could be such a merciless bastard. A sort of God like those dreamed up in ancient days, convenient excuses for things beyond man. If time was a god, he was an unfeeling one. A god who mocked the special, sacred times. And to be sure mankind did not have many. Leah did not have many. So when morning did come with its relentless, inevitable promise of change, Leah wished there was some real god of time who would hear her curses and take some small measure of offense. Was that too much to ask?

And as if reading her thoughts, his sleepy voice beside her: "What time is it?"

"Shhh, go back to sleep," and she stroked his hair and kissed his face.

But Owen was a man not so easily pacified.

"What time is it, Leah?"

She sighed. It was the end of the most awful, horrific and beautiful nights of her life. That's what time it was, Owen.

But instead, Leah opted to leave the snark for later and nuzzle deep into that welcoming crook of shoulder into neck. She had come to find it the best fit for her head to rest. Such a perfect fit. He yawned and stretched out, an arm ending about her own shoulders and gently pressing her close. It was all Leah could do not to explore him one more time. She shut her eyes. Contented herself with mere existence in that shared space with him for just a few more moments. Her knee draped across his waist. A hand at his chest. She wiled the seconds away with tiny kisses all about his neck. Such pure, perfect bliss.

He shifted slightly. A small groan in his chest. She felt it beneath her touch, even though it went bit back from his lips. It wasn't any kind of the groan she'd come to relish throughout the night; that telling sound of pleasure. No. This was the sort of groan that spoke of truest aches...the deep pains of the body. And Leah's eyes opened. And she lifted her head just slightly to take in his body in the new light of morning.

What met her gaze caught her breath up in her throat.

Dark blotches of spreading contusions painted his arms where that woman had hit him. Worse than Leah could have guessed coming from such a petite figure. But she had done damage with her blows. Bruises at his chest beneath the caress of her fingertips. Further up, tiny, red lines marred the very place she had been kissing...slices from a knife at the neck. God. What had they done to him? There were risen welts along his forehead from the crash of the vehicle.

What more would they have done...?

"Leah?..."

She was trembling.

He felt it.

"Hey, come here," his soft, imploring voice. But the warrior-ess couldn't reason beyond her own feelings. She pulled further away, staring at him, staring beyond him and deep into a sudden rush of swift uncertainty. What would have happened if she had not found him, last night? No. That wasn't the question, was it? Be honest. Would any of this have happened if she had just stayed away? More...more more... The tribe. This was all the tribe's fault. Her heritage. Her people. The death that came of this damn curse and the vile things that came with it. Vampires. Those hikers killed in the mountains. Dr. Taggert's attempted suicide. Everything was a wicked spiral to the eventual brutality of the night before. And it was all as she had assumed.

I will kill him. The fate of what I am will kill him.

She felt herself push his hands away.

I can't...I can't I can't I can't I can't...

But then there came a hand at her bare waist and another glided to her cheek. Leah blinked, dazed from the panic. His touch so immediate and present. Steadying. Reassuring. She paused.

"You didn't do this to me." How had he known? The words penetrated, a light through the manic, whirling doubt.

"What?" She murmured, confused...

"Leah, I don't know what happened last night. Frankly, I'm not quite sure of anything anymore. But I do know one thing..." He kissed her. The tension in her body washed away like the washing of blood from flesh. "This makes sense." How could she deny it? Every fiber of her blood, body and spirit called out to this man and when he responded it was as if the shattered pieces of her world had suddenly come together, reforming, remaking, redefining life into something new.

"I need to tell you something..." she whispered at his lips, unwilling to break their contact, unsure whether she might go on, if they did.

Owen was the one to pull back the inch or so to give room for her to speak. Because he was listening. When she looked into his face, she saw the iron of his resolve. Amazing. It stumbled her words as Leah stared at the man before her. That determination settled in the line of his mouth. As if nothing could change his mind about her...about them, together. It bolstered confidence. Leah drew in a deep breath.

She would tell him everything...

She would have told him everything...

If not for the startling pound of knuckles at the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Both paused, their moment stuck in a strange limbo at the jarring and unexpected sound.

Owen gritted his teeth: "Seriously, they check towels at the worst times, here."

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Leah?"

And that was it. Slam. That lone voice like a gavel's bang effectively ending anything more.

"Leah, open the door, please."

Sue Clearwater. Her voice so cold, so calm, and edged with an unquestioning authority. Somehow it spurred the lovers. They were up and out of the bed in an instant, sprung like rabbits from a burrow. Nevermind both were old enough to do whatever the hell they liked, together. This was Sue Clearwater.

"What's your mother doing here!?" Owen hissed, stumbling about with a pair of sweatpants, halfway up his legs.

"I called her, last night!" Came Leah's groan. She hadn't brought in her bag from the truck. And as she rifled through her crumpled clothes from the night before she realized there was no chance at wearing them again. Blood stained the material. Her shoulders slumped.

"I was worried about a concussion, so I asked her to come check in on you..."

A pause.

The scramble had ceased.

Leah glanced up from her place at the bathroom doorway to catch sight of a half-dressed blind-man trying desperately to bite back a laugh. Literally. He had a fist in his mouth and was baring down on it to keep from breaking.

Her brows furrowed in response.

"You think this is funny!?" She spat in a whisper.

"A little," he managed and, without thinking, she had wadded up her torn and blooded shirt and thrown it at him.

"Leah, please finish dressing and open the door," came her mother's voice a moment later. And that was enough to sober Owen and paint both their faces with an immediate blush.

"I-..." Leah rose and stepped over to him, letting his nearness ease away some of the stress of things. She kissed him. He kissed her, a hand resting at her bare side. He felt the absence of material and she felt his touch drift a bit lower in instinct. It numbed her mind, sent shivers up her spine.

She tore away an inch, punching him in the shoulder.

"Ow."

"Don't do that," Leah quietly berated.

He smiled.

"I...," a continuation of her original thought, "I can't lose you."

And that brought an almost immediate weight back into Owen's disposition. She recognized the protective air imperceptively straightening his spine, tightening his jaw, etching his brows. No. Leah needed him to understand her words. She let her mother stand outside the door another minute as she cupped his cheek and nuzzled, again, into his neck as they stood together. His arms wrapped about her. They held each other.

You are mine and I am yours.

"Here," he said, finally releasing her and drifting down to his bag. After a moment, he rose again with a long dress shirt in-hand. It was her turn to smile. And she accepted the proffered clothing with a short shake of the head. Sometimes his read on situations was so accurate, she wondered if the blindness was some sort of a ruse. Or maybe it was just that Owen Reid saw more in the absence of sight than many did with it.

Leah slipped the thin shirt on, noting its length ended at a suggestive mid-thigh. Whatever. It completed the picture of cliche, disheveled lover, which she figured she might as well proudly own. Because this was her life. And, scandal be damned, Leah Clearwater felt happy for the first time in a long time.

"Hello, mother," the younger Quileutte woman said as she opened the door.

Sue Clearwater stood, arms folded, eyes sharpened with a kind of judgement that had Leah temporarily tumbling back years when she had been caught sneaking into the house after a night out drinking with Sam. That same disapproving, near-disgusted look. Leah met it head-on with the defiant raise of her chin.

"Good to see you've kept him awake all night," came the older woman's chilled greeting. "Always good to keep head trauma victims awake and alert which I'm sure you ensured." And with that, Sue pushed past her daughter into the room where Owen was just tugging on a fresh polo shirt. He too looked the part of rumpled lover, what with the mixed wardrobe of dress-shirt and sweat-pants. His golden hair was a mess. Even despite herself and the embarrassing situation, Leah couldn't help another grin at the sight of him.

"Good morning Ms. Clearwater..." Said Owen, picking up on her footsteps towards him.

"Good morning, Dr. Reid." The formality was a subtle bite the way only a mother could. She went directly up to him and began her assessment. And then began the less-than-subtle verbal stabbing,

"You look like you haven't slept a wink..."

An instant firing of the cheeks.

"And so glad to note your respect for our conversation the other day."

"Mrs. Clearwater, I assure you, I-...OW!" She pressed a palm to his battered forehead with the delicacy of a freight train.

"Hm. No fever."

Arms folded. Jaw set. Leah rolled her eyes. Why had she called her mother?...Her mother of all people!? The stupidest mistake in the world. And one the young Quileute woman promised herself she'd never make again.

"Alright," Leah finally growled from the doorway, protective instincts firing on all cylinders as Sue made her point of obvious disdain in merciless tugs and pulls. "Enough, mother. I just wanted to make sure he was ok."

"Oh, he's doing just fine," came the snap of a reply. Sue had the sphere of a stethoscope pressed to Owen's back. "I'd say a good day's rest is in order after the night he's had." Not a glance up. The words were like hidden barbs in the show of clinical concern. Poisoned barbs. And they struck true by the way Owen's shoulders dropped slightly. A good man slapped with a thing he held dear: respect for others...respect for Sue...respect for Leah.

And her mother knew it.

"I need to get back to Forks for another shift. Thank you for the panic. Enjoy my daughter, Dr. Reid."

And just like that, she was past Leah and out the door without another word. Leah caught the briefest sight of Owen sitting heavily upon the edge of the bed, rubbing at his sore neck. His face was like a clear-painted canvas, the purist insight into just how bad Sue had made him feel.

Leah's hackles raised. She hurried to the bathroom and slipped on her pants, disregarding the blood and suddenly the young wolf was prowling after her mother. She caught up to the elder Clearwater outside, near the car. Sue was just opening the door when she caught sight of her daughter. Disgust. Open disgust. The feelings were mutual. Leah stepped right up to her mother, put a hand on the and slammed it shut.

"How dare you," she hissed at her mother.

"How dare me!?" Sue shot back with a matching vitriol. "You call in the middle of the night and beg me to come here. Imagine. My daughter, my little girl, crying on the phone that something awful has happened. So I leave my work early-"

"Oh such a sacrifice."

"Don't you interrupt me, child!" And Leah almost subconsciously bit her tongue. The evidence of strictest early childhood training at work. "I drive all this way for you and come to find all Seattle lit up by news of 'another attack'."

The fire was quickly leaving Leah's blood, replaced by a cold wash of fear. Suddenly there were whole new elements added to the mess of things. Because she hadn't thought through everything. The bodies...the car...it had all happened so fast. And then Owen...he had been bleeding...she just hadn't thought-

"Mutilated bodies in a parking lot," Sue practically snarled in a whisper, a raw sound that further quelled the moment and injected more reality into the nightmare. "And then I find my daughter whoring the night away with a beaten, blind doctor."

Tears. Damn it. She finally felt them in the corner of her eyes. Those physical manifestations of weakness. Tears because it was only her parents who could ever bring them on. The way her mother could stab into her heart and pull the deepest parts to light. Her father had done the same. Only his touch had been gentle...always so gentle...

"Because you don't think, Leah Clearwater!" Sue unleashed the fullness of her motherly wrath. A step forward. She stared daggers into her daughter's eyes, capitalizing on the hitch of breath choking out her daughter's retorts. "You feel and you act and you don't think." The strangest thing. Because Leah could swear she saw tears in her own mother's eyes. The sight of them welling...yes...and then pouring down her mother's cheeks as she cried.

"JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!" Sue screamed.

The sudden force of those words in that tone like a slap.

Leah was silent.

Her mother wasn't. Though far quieter through the sobs, Sue wringed her hands with the force of her rare emotion.

"What have you done..." Fear. Anger. Sadness...sincerity...that's what caught Leah so off-guard in the moment. There were none of the typical walls holding Sue's truest self in that moment. None of the surety and stone. "What have you done, Leah..." This was a scared mother, pure and simple. A mother hit by too much too soon. "What have you done, child..."

They did not embrace. They cried their tears inches apart from each other, holding themselves. And when finally the women were drained of their passion, and the sweet, empty hollowness had returned, mother and daughter finally looked back into one another's eyes.

"They were going to kill him." Leah managed in a broken voice.

"What does it matter," went the spat reply.

And this was it, the moment Leah gathered herself, raised her chin, straightened her shoulders and finally gave utterance to the truth of things. For her mother. For herself.

"I am his and he is mine."

Silence.

Nothing.

Sue Clearwater was a statue as she stared at her daughter. And the only sign that a heart still beat in her old, tired chest was the look that slowly began etching new lines into her face...

Confusion. Absolute confusion as her world suddenly flipped upside down with the words her daughter had just spoken.

"What did you say?" Sue breathed.

"Owen Reid is my mate."

Sue's back met the side of the car. She was trying to process. First, the form of the wolf. The change. And the change in her precious boy. And then her husband's death. And now...

"Those nights you were at his office..."

Leah's blinked: "How did you-"

"You are drawn to him?"

YES. Drawn, pulled, tugged, coerced, dragged kicking and screaming at times. Yes...

"I feel his heart in mine, beating with mine."

Too much too soon.

Sue finally shook her head, raked a palm past her eyes to scatter the remnants of her tears. A deep breath. Her own resolve was returning.

"These attacks in Seattle..." There had been a growing concern among the public as the bodies began to pile. "Law enforcement are blaming inner-city gangs. So you have a cover, Leah."

Strange how clinically detached Sue sounded. But Leah could not fathom the depths a mother would go, her mother would go, for her.

"Our family has ties to Seattle. We have favors..."

"What do you mean?"

"Nevermind," Sue snapped in a revival of her old self. "Just know that you and Dr. Reid were never there. Don't speak of it again, do you understand me, Leah?" The gravity of those words elicited an odd feeling of wariness in the younger Quileute. An unsurety. A questioning of previously held assumptions about her family...about the tribe.

Favors...?

"Yes," Leah murmured. "I understand."

"Not a word more about what happened, last night."

But that wasn't all. Because when the women caught each other's eyes one last time, Sue had one thing more. The distance was there, to be sure. The coldness set. But there was more...an imploring gravity that seemed to anchor her next words. She reached out and took Leah's hand in her own. The unexpected familiarity layered the confusion by also denying the expected harshness. Sue's touch was gentle...the way Leah remembered her father's touch had been so gentle...

"None of it happened, last night." And it clicked. What her mother was communicating, right then, in that space of strangest connection. No one could know about Seattle.

"You are the first female wolf, Leah," Sue pressed. "Everyone is so wrapped up in this Bella business. But you," she squeezed Leah's hand, "you are something so much more. The first female wolf...my daughter..."

A pause. Leah felt her mother's hands trembling in her own.

"The tribe doesn't know what that means, yet. They can't comprehend the significance. And that is to your benefit, Leah. Because mark my words these boys of the pack will not respect the sanctity of the imprint. They are children, playing games of leadership. They are petulant and if they discover that the first female has imprinted upon someone outside the tribe, they will be reckless about it."

"That's not fair-"

"Of course it's not. But things will change, Leah. The council looks upon me as a shadow of your father. They have no idea. The men of this tribe cannot fathom our worth. So I intend to make them. But it's a process, Leah. This will take time. And until the council and the pack gives into reason, you must be careful. Keep the pack ignorant of last night because their ignorance is your shield. Play your part in these silly games of wolves and vampires. Pretend. Lie. Do not let on about your imprinting for your sake and-...and for the sake of your mate."

The women parted. And in their parting, something new had been born between them. Mother and daughter. Women of the tribe. Fighters. Sue turned and slipped into the driver-seat of her car. The engine fired up and Leah watched her mother sit a moment, lost in her own secret thoughts. The window rolled down.

"Sam is distracted, right now, Leah. Guard your heart and your mind." Literally. The shared link with the pack could expose everything in an instant. "Keep Owen safe."

And that was it. No words of parting thanks and love passed the lips of the women as they went their own ways: Sue back home to Forks, Leah back home to the arms of her lover.

Leah re-entered the room to find Owen still sitting where he had been. That slump of the shoulders. It paused her step and chiseled a bit of the severity away. That dear, precious fool...

"Stop pouting you big baby."

"Dude," he lifted his head, "We totally got busted by your mom."

And there was that irreverence. That wonderful escape from all the mess of reality.

"Oh the scandal." Leah teased, drifting forward to lay beside him, a leg off the bed while her head settled into his lap. His hand was immediately there to sift through the locks of her short, raven hair. Leah shut her eyes. She smiled.

"So?" He asked, expectantly.

"She's going back for the shotgun."

Leah slit an eye open to catch the subtle bob of his head in begrudging acceptance.

"Awesome," he groaned.

A laugh. And then they stayed there like that in the silence for a while. There was still the matter of what had been discussed with her mother, of the truth she had been compelled to tell him, prior to her mother's arrival. The tribe. The wolves. Leah rested in his lap, riffling through all the reasons he needed to be made aware. It's why she had originally come to find him in Seattle. His safety obviously depended on knowing, right? Didn't the circumstances of the prior night necessitate the revelation?...wolves and vampires...

He was in danger.

And as if on cue, Owen's voice...

"Hey, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Hm?"

"Before your mother arrived. You said you had something to tell me..."

Leah reached a hand up to trace the line of his lips. She opened her eyes again and watched him, watched his kiss upon her fingertips. The words of her mother rolled about her mind.

"Nothing," she finally said.

And though she understand there would never again exist the notion that she could deny the imprinting. It didn't mean she couldn't do everything in her power to guard it...to guard him. She lifted herself up. She wrapped herself about him and kissed Owen with a passion of fullest, deepest acceptance.

They would have to discuss the intricacies of their relationship and what that meant moving forward.

But not then.

My love. My mate.