A rush of swallows launch from the treetops into the grey sky, scolding loudly at a disturbance in the forest below. A tall, lean man emerges from the trees, panting slightly. He plucks a growth of leaves from his long, black hair, and he narrows his eyes as he examines the beach below the forest-topped cliff.

The tide is low, and the beach stretches golden almost all the way back to the numerous sea-stacks which punctuate the green-grey sea of the bay. A lone bald eagle spirals on the air above the restless ocean. Rounded rocks, covered in spongy green seaweed and slime, rise from the wet sand. Large rock pools ripple silver in the grey light. Gulls perch on the rocks and strut along the tide line, reigning the beach with loud, harsh cries of ownership.

His intense expression changes when he sees her—the lone figure on the long, sandy crescent—near the spiky line of driftwood at the foot of the cliffs. He smiles as he bends to pull on a pair of jeans. He navigates the steep, wooden stairway leading down to the beach with fluid grace, buttoning the jeans one-handed. He skips the last few steps, leaping onto the beach in a graceful jump. He lands in a low crouch, wiry muscles pulling taut under russet skin.

This beach is slightly more sheltered from the brisk wind that had tugged and teased the myriad tourists who had crowded First Beach to watch the whales, but the breeze still lifts strands of his glossy hair in a haphazard dance on the salt and seaweed scented air. He growls with annoyance, and he pulls his hair back, securing it with a rubber band as he lopes across the driftwood forest. He walks silently and surefooted towards her.

Her head is bent forward over a book, and he can see the curve of her cheek, the hummingbird murmur of her lips as she reads, the tantalizing glimpse of her calf where her long shirt has hiked up.

He stops for a moment and watches her, scarcely able to believe that she's here—that she's human, untouched by icy cold or eternal death. He'd heard the thoughts of the pack as he'd approached home—news rushing towards him like a flood, overwhelming him with joy and annoyance and relief and warmth. And intermingled with the reprimands and welcomes was the news that Bella was home... safe, warm. And also the welcome news of a new treaty… the Cullens would never return to the Olympic peninsula again.

He pads closer, and his shadow falls across her towel in a long slant. She gasps and whirls around, her muscles tense, and her eyes wild and wary, warding him off with the book like it is a weapon. She blinks, and her brow creases with confusion. Her eyes track upwards from his worn, low-slung jeans, up past the dark line of hair that traces from the waistband to his navel, up his broad, strong chest, up to his smiling lips and dark, warm eyes.

Her cheeks flush, and her breath hitches slightly. "Jake?"

"Bella." His voice is husky and less confident than he'd imagined, holding a world love and relief and curiosity.

She drops her book and pushes up from the sand, and then she launches at him, throwing her arms around his neck, stretching on tiptoes to reach. He catches her gladly and pulls her close, hugs her tightly in that perfect moment. He never, ever, never wants to let her go, he thinks. He buries his nose in her hair, inhaling the warmth and floral scent of her, feeling her soft and small against his body.

She pats his shoulder and wiggles. "Jake… squashing…"

Reluctantly, he lets her go, and she slides down his body to land on her feet. They stand like that for a moment… Jacob holding her hand, standing inches apart, breathing heavily, eyes remembering beloved features.

"Where have you been?" she asks. I've been worried, her tone says reproachfully. I've missed you, the wobble in her voice says.

It doesn't matter now… Now that he's home with her, it doesn't matter where he's been. "Canada ," he answers simply. He licks his lips—a self-conscious gesture, perhaps a wishful gesture—and her eyes flicker to his mouth.

"Oh." The wind tugs at her hair, now pulling loose from a scarlet ribbon. A wanton strand of hair floats towards him, tickles down his cheek.

He winds the strand of hair around his finger and tucks it behind her hair. He frowns—his dark, slanted eyebrows draw together as a huge question looms between them. "What… why are you here, Bella?" he asks.

He feels the muscles of her hand stiffen in his, but she shrugs nonchalantly, and she tries to smile dismissively as she waves her other hand. "Spring break," she says.

He growls low in his throat, and she takes half a step backwards, alarmed. He tightens his hold on her hand.

"Sorry, Bella," he says, dropping his head in shame. He's lived alone, wolfish for almost a year now, and his lupine instincts and mannerisms are more marked than ever. He tilts his head to the side, and he smiles. "What happened?" he asks.

i Tell me that he's gone forever… tell me that you're not here to say goodbye again. /i

She tugs on his hand, and then she sits on the sand again, pulling him to sit with her, knee-to-knee. He strokes the back of her hand softly, encouragingly.

She clears her throat softly, and she scoops up a handful of sand, dribbling it through her fingers onto her long, red skirt. "Before the wedding," she began softly, and his hand twitched under hers. She glanced up and smiled apologetically. There was sadness in her eyes, but none of the empty, black grief he'd seen two years ago when Cullen had left.

"I'm listening," he said. His voice was patient, but his heart was pounding loudly in his ears along with the hissing rush of the sea on the shore and the incessant squabbling of the gulls on the wind.

"I was… afraid," she said, and she drops her gaze to the warm pile of sand pinning the hem of her skirt. "I'd see Charlie or Renee, and I'd wonder if I was doing the right thing—"

He snorts with agreement, and she tugs her hand from his. She crosses her arms, pressing her fingertips into her armpits. She rocks slightly, and the wind tugs at the ribbon in her hair so that it dances like a dervish above her bowed head.

He puts a hand on her knee. "Sorry," he says, although there a part of him that is unbearably smug, just waiting for confirmation of his suspicion.

She sniffs. "Alice kept on getting changing visions… us married and me as a vampire—"

Jacob growls involuntarily this time, and Bella scowls at him. "Oh, stop it," she scolds, indignant colour high in her cheeks.

He tries to look repentant again, and she continues to glare at him for a moment before she continues, "The visions flickered back and forth the whole time, and Edward could see Alice's visions, of course…" She glances up at him, and he nods his understanding.

"Anyway. He wanted me to be wholly committed to marrying him, changing… and I wasn't… so he called off the wedding and they left." Her voice breaks slightly on the last word, and he's horrified to see a tear slide down her cheek.

Jacob reaches forward for Bella, and he pulls her into his arms, onto his lap where he cradles her against his chest. "It's okay, Bella," he croons softly. "If you weren't sure, then he did the right thing... you did the right thing."

A part of him is reluctantly admiring of Edward Cullen again—another part of him is crowing with delight that Edward Cullen was such an honourable idiot.

"I know," she says against his chest. Her lips are soft against his warm skin, and her tears are wet and hot as they slide down his abdomen. He rocks her gently, and he kisses her hair, her temple. She lifts her head. "I'm so sorry, Jake," she says, and her lips tremble. "I'm so sorry for everything I put you through." Guilt throbs through both of them, hot and heavy.

"I'm sorry, too, Bella," he tells her.

The scent of the ocean and the insistent tug of the wind die away and recede to insignificance as the air between them changes. It shimmers with something new and expectant as their eyes meet, and it intensifies as his lips lower to hers.

She sighs softly, like she's finally home and safe. She tilts her face upwards towards his. His hot lips brush against hers before he sucks her lower lip hungrily, caressing the swell of her lip with his tongue. She whimpers encouragingly and shifts in his arms, moving to straddle his hips. Her breath is hot against his lips, and he slides a hand into her hair, pulling her close to him again. She writhes sinuously against him as their tongues slide against each other, and he groans softly into her mouth as he begins to grow hard between them. Her breasts slide against his chest as, and his other hand slides up underneath her shirt, warm against her back.

Their lips part and he presses his mouth to her neck, where her pulse flutters wildly against his lips. "Bella… Bells," he murmurs. He slides his hand back to her waist, sighing against her collarbone.

"What?" she asks, wild-eyed and flushed with passion.

He cups her cheek with his hard hand. "God knows I want to..." He smirks and tilts his hips upwards a little, sending a lightning bolt of arousal arching across his nerves.

She still looks confused, her eyes a little hazy with lust.

"But you know I can't promise you forever," he says. He wills her to understand what he's implying… there's still something that threatens anything they might ever have.

Understanding lights in her eyes. "Oh," she says on the softest breath, "imprinting." There's more than understanding in her voice… there's a question there, too.

He shakes his head. "No," he answers. And he hopes that he never does, honestly.

Bella takes a deep breath, steadying her self as she grabs his wrist with shaking fingers. "I don't need forever, Jake," she says earnestly. "I don't want forever… I'm so tired of thinking of forever. I just want uncomplicated passion, one day at a time, for now." She leans forward to kiss his lips gently. "I want you now, and whatever comes next…" She smiles against his lips. "We'll deal with it then."

His large hand traces her ribs, and his thumb brushes a hard nipple through her bra. She arches her back and grinds against him in answer.

The wind tugs the ribbon from her hair, and it twists and winds in a scarlet ripple against the leaden sky. A gull plucks it from the air, and the sea creeps slowly back to shore as two new lovers learn each other—their gasps and cries of passion are lost on the wind.