I feel pretty accomplished about the completion of this chapter, I wrote it in its entirety between the hours of 3:00 and 4:00 AM. The content on the other hand I'm not so sure about, but I'm starting to sound like a broken record on that subject so I'll refrain. I'm trying to build my story up to a turning point that I already have planned out, so apologize if it seems to progress slowly, I tend to get going on individual scenes and then I don't realize that I've exceeded my word count for a chapter and I've only pushed my time line forward a few hours.

But other than that, Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Notes

"Quil, I've got a question." Claire had nearly forgotten that she had intended to ask him about the incident that had occurred the weekend before. They had slipped into a conversation about trivial things, she felt like she was catching up with an old friend, which was strange since Quil had never left.

He tensed slightly at her statement, but nodded, indicating that she should continue.

"What happened last weekend after my party? I heard arguing in the kitchen, but when I came down only Emily was there, with a bunch of clothes that looked like Paul's. I thought maybe he lost his temper again, and I was just wondering…" Claire reigned herself in, realizing that she was rambling and leaving no room for Quil to answer.

"Paul didn't really lose his temper." Quil's response was brief, and a little harsh, he was seeing red at the mere memory of what Paul had said about Claire.

"I don't understand," Claire went on, not noticing the slight tremor run through Quil's upper body, "It looked like he had phased with his clothes on…again."

"He did, he said some things; it got a little out of hand."

"You're being kind of vague." Claire was getting frustrated with his ambiguity.

"I know."

Claire clenched her jaw; the conversation was starting to go in circles. She knew about the Pack, she knew that their job was to protect La Push from the cold ones, and whatnot. Clearly, the events of the weekend before hadn't involved any sort of vampire action; the Pack had been much too relaxed the next morning for that to be the case. Quil would have told her if there were vampires involved, like he had told her when he, Jake, and Embry had left to chase down the nomadic vampire that got too close to the reservation. He always told her what was going on with the Pack, so was there something worse than vampires now?

"Something definitely happened, Quil. I'd really like to know what it was, especially since it made Rachel so mad at Paul that she didn't show up to breakfast the next day," Neither did you, actually.

"Claire, it's really not important." He wasn't looking at her anymore; he was trying to stop the trembling in his hands that only intensified every time she mentioned Paul.

"I don't care if it's not important, I want to know and Seth told me that I had to ask y—are you okay?" She had finally noticed the tremors.

Quil shook his head slowly, still not looking at her. The memory of the weekend before, and what Paul had said, had only gotten worse with time. He knew he had blown it out of proportion then, and was doing the same now, but Paul had no r—he needed to calm down, now.

It took Claire a moment to realize what was happening, Quil was fighting the urge to phase. She knew she probably should have been concerned for her own safety but she couldn't manage anything more than confusion at the moment. Quil had been a werewolf for years; he probably had the most control in the Pack, with the exception of the ever-levelheaded Collin. What was going on?

"Quil?" Her voice was quiet.

Hearing the sound of his name on her lips made the tremors subside a little, but not entirely. He had avoided thinking about the altercation with Paul all week and now all of the anger he had felt that night was rushing back. It was at a completely new level this time.

When he didn't respond to her Claire started to panic just a little. What was she supposed to do? Calming down werewolves wasn't a gift she possessed, she didn't even know what she should say, not to mention do. She'd seen Rachel take on Paul when he was about to lose control of his wolf only once, she had been twelve and Quil had escorted her bodily out of the room under the pretense of ice cream before anything had gotten too intense.

Rachel had the power of being Paul's imprint that she could use in situations like that, she could rank higher than the Alpha if she needed to; Claire couldn't think of what she was supposed to do, she didn't have that power over Quil, she had nothing. As she watched Quil trying to regain control she started to reevaluate the situation. Shouldn't I be scared? Apparently the answer was no because when the tremors running through his torso worsened again she reacted on pure instinct.

"Quil." She repeated, the soothing tone of her voice completely foreign, as she reached out and placed her hand against the side of his face forcing him to look up at her. The danger of being that close to a werewolf who was on the brink of phasing not even registering in her mind, Uncle Sam would have been horrified.

He froze when she touched him, avoiding her gaze as she tried to coax him in to looking at her.

"Quil, look at me, you need to calm down."

He couldn't resist her words, they were like one of Sam's orders but they didn't ring sharply in his ears, her voice echoed in his head softly, he didn't just have to listen to her, he wanted to. His eyes locked with hers immediately when he looked up and he got lost in them, the memory that had brought on his rage slowly starting to slip away.

…

Kaye stepped back in to the garage, still on the phone but no longer with Kellan.

"Alright, mother! I'm getting in the car, it won't take me long to get home. No, I'm not in a bar! For God's sake mother, would you stop asking me that every time I go somewhere with Summer? I'll see you when I get home." She snapped the phone shut and threw it into her purse, scowling.

She walked over to where Summer was now examining her acrylic nails, having resorted to throwing a glance in Embry's direction only once in a while.

"Does she really think I take you out to bars every time we hang out?" The blonde questioned not looking up from her nails.

"You know, I really think she does," Kaye was rifling through her purse for her keys as she spoke, "My sister decided to come home for the weekend so my mother wants me home, for family bonding and such. Where's Claire? I've got her sketchbook for her; I didn't want to drive off with it"

Summer inclined her head in the direction of the back office as she accepted the thick spiral bound book from her friend. Kaye followed her gaze and turned back with an expression that asked a question that Summer had been pondering for the past few minutes. Still?

"Okay, well, could you tell her I'm really sorry?" Kaye continued, finally finding her keys, "I've really got to go, my mother will kill me if I don't come home tonight. I'll see if she'll let me get away next weekend though, we can come down to visit again."

"Sounds good to me, I'll let her know why you had to bail if she ever comes out," Summer assured, picking up her phone to check the time.

"Alright, later babe!" Kaye headed out of the garage but turned just before she stepped out on to the gravel lot, "It was nice meeting you Embry!"

Embry raised a hand in acknowledgement, mumbling something that Kaye assumed was "It was nice meeting you too," but she wasn't entirely sure.

Summer idly flipped through Claire's sketchbook, not really looking too long at any of the drawings for fear of invading her friend's privacy. Starting from the back she noted that there were a significant number of sketches Claire had done on the beach earlier in the day, but it was the drawing tucked between these and a set of the Uley home that caught her eye. It was on a separate piece of paper, tucked haphazardly between the bound pages. It was of a man, his bare back to the artist, leaning against one of the posts on the porch of what Summer decided was Claire's Aunt and Uncle's house.

She stared at the sketch for a moment longer, something telling her that the man in the drawing was most definitely Quil. She wasn't sure why she knew this, seeing as a brief glance over at Embry (and a moment of reveling in the way his white t-shirt stretched over his broad shoulders as he worked) made it obvious that it could easily have been a sketch of him. Summer shook her head, it wasn't Embry though, for some reason she knew this. It was Quil.

"Some friends you have."

His voice made Summer jump and shut the sketchbook in one swift motion. She looked up to find Embry leaning back against the car he had been working on, cleaning his hands with a rag and giving her a boyish grin.

"One leaves you to hang out with her mom, the other leaves to talk to a guy she sees almost six days a week." The grin didn't leave his face as he spoke.

"I know right, and look who they left me with!" She threw a teasing smile in his direction, being a bit more brazen than she had a right to, seeing as they'd met a grand total of an hour ago.

Embry just shook his head and headed towards the sink in the back of the garage, throwing the wrench he had been using onto a workbench as he went. Summer stared up at the ceiling, keeping Claire's sketchbook firmly shut on her lap.

"I can't believe I'm missing SmackDown for this," she sighed quietly to herself.

Embry heard her anyway.

"You are a wrestling fan?" His tone was blatantly doubtful, so much so that Summer quickly threw her guard up.

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," Embry gave her a searching look for a moment before he turned and dropped the hood of the car he had been working on, clearly indicating that he was done working for the night.

"Hungry?"

Summer didn't realize that he was talking to her immediately, still on the defensive after his last comment about her atypical idea of Friday night entertainment.

"What?"

"You missed dinner at Emily's" he continued, still looking at her like he was searching for something, "We can get pizza, and SmackDown doesn't start for another fifteen minutes."

Summer was stunned. She spent a few long seconds trying to sift a hidden meaning out his words but couldn't find one, and she could have sworn he winked at her. What the hell, she was hungry.

"Should we drag those two out of there?" She asked, throwing a glance back at the office that Quil and Claire had yet to emerge from.

"Probably not," Embry was grinning at her subtle acceptance of his invitation, "We'll leave a note."

Summer dug a purple pen out of her purse as Embry produced a scrap piece of paper, one corner of it looking as if it had suffered a minor altercation with fire. She eyed the charred edge, Embry just shrugged. He watched as she wrote out the note, a few simple words and an S surrounded by a heart at the bottom.

Kaye had to go home, Mommy Dearest called.

Went with Embry.

Pizza.

Join us when you're done.

-S

Summer placed the note and Claire's sketchbook on the end of the workbench nearest the office door; she knocked lightly on the door twice and turned back to Embry.

"Let's go!"

…

Quil was savoring the feeling of her palm against his skin, hoping that she wouldn't notice that the only reason his breathing had returned to normal was because he had matched it to hers. He closed his eyes once he had complete control again, taking a deep breath.

"It was me."

"What?" Claire's voice still held the quiet soothing tone.

"I'm the one who lost my temper last weekend…kind of attacked Paul." The last part of his sentence was more mumbled than spoken.

"What did he say?" Claire's hand left the side of his face and he immediately felt like there were leagues between them. She had subconsciously leaned closer to him though, and he took that as an adequate exchange for the loss of contact, for now.

"It's not important, it was stupid for me to react the way I did." No, it wasn't.

Quil marveled at the fact that she had immediately assumed Paul was the antagonist, even though he had already admitted to being the one to attack Paul. Was that an imprinting thing? Did that connection make her see him differently than other people? Or did she really believe he could do no wrong?

"It must have been important, Quil. You never lose your temper, with anyone, ever." Claire couldn't look at him anymore, she was looking down at her hand, the one than just seconds ago been up against his warm skin.

"Yeah, I know, Claire," He replied watching her examining her hand, "Things have just been getting really out of hand lately, an example being just a few minutes ago."

He leaned forward, hands running through his hair again. Claire caught this motion, immediately recognizing more stress. She didn't understand why Quil's anxiety bothered her so much; it was like it made her anxious too. She reached forward, acting on instinct again, her fingers running along his arm. It was the best gesture of comfort she could give from the position she was in. He looked up at her, their eyes locking again; he looked like he wanted to say something to her.

Two light raps on the door broke them apart, Claire snatching her hand back again and stood from where she had been seated on the end of the desk. Quil was checking the time on his phone.

"Shit, we missed dinner at Sam's."

"It's that late!" Claire's eyes flew to the screen of his phone that he held up to her. "I left Kaye and Summer out there with Embry. I told them I wouldn't be long." She rushed for the door, Quil following behind her.

The shop was empty when they exited the office. Claire stood for a moment, completely confused, before she noticed her sketchbook and the note that accompanied it.

"You left Embry to baby-sit two eighteen year old girls? Probably not the best decision you've made today, Claire."

Claire read the note, handing it to Quil when she finished. She wasn't sure whether to worry or burst in to laughter.

"Kaye had to go home, but—"

Her sentence was cut short by the unmistakable sound of Embry's Suzuki SV tearing out of the gravel lot.

"—Summer's the one we should be worried about."

"Apparently."

Quil and Claire both stared at the closed garage door for a moment, not quite sure what to do next.

"I'm surprised he got her to go near that bike, most girls are scared to death of it, especially with the way he drives." Quil was pulling the keys to his truck off the hook as he spoke, motioning for Claire to follow him out of the garage.

"If it has an engine Summer is going to be all over it," Claire was starting to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, "his trouble is going to come when he tries to get her off the motorcycle."

"You have interesting friends, little girl."

Claire gritted her teeth at the sound of her nickname. Of anyone, she hated it most when Quil used it. Come to think of it, she actually abhorred the name when Quil used it.

While Quil was locking up the garage, Claire remembered the note she had shoved in her back pocket earlier. Pulling it out she noticed that it had unfolded a little, revealing the words little girl.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at the paper, suspicion rising. It wasn't going to kill anyone if she read it, right? Nope. She flipped the folded paper open, and nearly stamped her foot when she read its contents.

You need to stop being so nosy little girl.

And you need to talk to Quil.

-Seth

Seth was now officially the most obnoxious person she knew. Unfortunately, his methods worked, no matter how unorthodox they were, the note had been the reason that she'd come to the shop in the first place. And now she and Quil were speaking again. Who sends handwritten notes to people? What is this, third grade? Claire just rolled her eyes and shoved the note back in her pocket as she hauled herself up in to the passenger seat of Quil's truck.

She was too happy with the fact that she was speaking normally to Quil again to consider being mad at Seth. In fact, she made a mental note to have a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies and a hug waiting for the youngest Clearwater the next time she saw him.

I feel like a lot of people were expecting the note to be a huge ordeal, but I never intended it to be, it was just Seth's kind of silly attempt to convince Claire to talk to Quil. Sorry if that ended up being a bit of a letdown. : [

I'm never sure what I feel about my writing, so why don't you all let me know what you think?

Oh! And go check my profile for a link to another Quil/Claire story, Words, it's written by a friend of mine! : ]