One of my one shots for the Truly Anon Twi fic contest. 45 photo prompts, I wrote 13 stories. Clearly have major issues... lol

Pairing: Jake/Bella I suppose...

Rating: M for themes

Prompt 15 – was a grassy cemetery. A young man sits, cross legged, holding a letter with his head against a tombstone. A ghostly image of a girl is behind him with her hand on his back.

Disclaimer:the characters and all recognisable situations belong to Stephenie Meyer - this is a work of fan fiction, except for the legends and histories of the Quileute that, of course, belong to them. I pay my respects to their Gods.

Reverence

The boy sat, cross legged on the grass. His head was down, the top of his head rested against the gravestone. The stone was weathered on the top. The mown grass covered the ground seamlessly. It was an old grave. The grave was almost as old as the boy. The boy was reading a letter.

He sniffed, lifted his head to wipe at his eyes and he noticed the man, standing watching him. He hadn't heard him approach. The man suspected that might change, if his senses improved.

They stared at each other. The man approached him carefully.

The man didn't ask the boy if he was okay; he knew he wasn't. They boy's right hand still held the letter. The letter that he had read for the first time today. His left hand closed around the token hanging from the leather thong around his neck. It was a hand carved wooden wolf. It used to hang on a bracelet. A bracelet that went around the wrist of his mother.

"She was here," the boy said.

He didn't doubt it. He turned into a wolf. Stranger things had happened in the world than a heartbroken boy being visited by the ghost of his mother.

"You don't believe me," the boy chided.

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"She's always looked after you."

"I felt her," he added with a sniff. "She put her hands flat on the top of my back."

His father nodded again. He sat carefully on the grass near the boy, but not too near. He was at that awkward teen phase. No hugging.

"You read the letter?" he asked.

"Yeah." That surly teen tone. "It's stupid. It doesn't make sense."

"You're missing some information," his father pointed out. He didn't point out that the letter had made the boy cry, so it probably wasn't stupid.

The boy frowned at him. "Are you gonna tell me?"

His father pulled at the grass with his fingers. "Yeah," he said.

Silence.

His father sighed. "You know the tribal legends?"

He got a head tilt and a duh look for that.

"Right. Well… they're true."

A snort.

Silence.

"No really," his father insisted. "We're shape shifters, we turn into wolves. Just like in the legends."

"I always knew you were a freak," the boy snapped.

He felt like laughing, but it was actually startlingly accurate.

The boy's eyes narrowed when he didn't respond. A tiny flicker of doubt crossed his face.

"Wolves?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"How many?"

"A pack. We can talk about who exactly, later."

The boy looked back at the letter in his hand.

"This?" He waved it a little.

His father nodded again. "Other freaks," he partially explained.

"So …" the boy sounded as if he was thinking out loud. "So… she died for the freaks?"

"No. She died for you." He blinked quickly. "She died to protect you from the freaks."

"And to protect you, too." It was not a question.

His father nodded. "True. She protected the whole tribe."

Silence.

They sat there and each thought their own thoughts.

"What are the freaks?" the boy asked carefully.

His father knew what he meant. "Vampires," his father answered.

He got a serious look for that answer.

"Seriously," he said before he got accused of being a freak again.

Silence.

"W-why?" the boy asked.

And wasn't that the question?

He sighed heavily. "It's a long story, but we have time and I don't think she would mind if we sat here."

He told his son the real story; the whole story. A girl, a wolf and a vampire. How she had loved them both. How she had eventually chosen life. And she had chosen to have a child.

But he also told his son, how the actions in the past had brought her to the attention of the Volturi.

"Sounds like vulture," the boy commented.

"Yeah - probably is. Italian for something."

"Why did they want her?"

"She had a gift. People could not read her mind."

The boy gave him another look.

"Seriously. There are vampires that can read minds. They thought if it was that strong when she was human, it'd be even stronger if she was a vampire. Couldn't read Grandpa Charlie's mind either; at least not very well."

"He MET them?"

"Yeah. They hid in plain sight. They aren't like the vampires in books. They can walk around in the sunlight. Go to High School."

The boy frowned at him again.

"I wouldn't be shitting you today," he stated.

The boy looked back at the letter in his hand. "So she died. So that I could live?"

"Kind of. They wanted her to work for them. Be one of them. She refused."

"She chose a real death," the boy stated.

He liked the way the boy saw the vampire as still dead; that pleased him at some level.

"Who were they? These Volturi."

"They were very old; Master vampires I suppose. They were self-appointed vampire rulers. Place called Volterra. She knew of them; and that broke their secret. Humans were not supposed to know about them. One main guy hated werewolves. Exterminated them world-wide. She knew that we were shifters not werewolves, but it wouldn't matter to him. If they had found out about us, they would have killed us all; every single person in the tribe. She made a choice. Her life for 400 others. 800 I suppose if the Volturi tracked down every Quileute of blood that didn't live in La Push anymore. They probably would have."

He picked at the grass again.

He added, "The Volturi said either she went to them, or they would come here and get her."

The boy spoke, "And if they had come here, they would have known about our tribe and the wolves."

"Yes." He sighed again. "Vampires have a different idea of time, because they are so old, I suppose. She had a bit over a year. Long enough to have you."

"And they couldn't read her mind to know about us?"

He always was smart. He nodded.

His son looked at him with his mother's eyes. His voice got very quiet. "How did she die?"

"I don't exactly know. It has killed me every day that I wasn't with her. But that would have made her sacrifice pointless. Never cried so much in my life."

"You didn't try to stop her?"

"She did tell me her decision. But she made me promise to stay and look after you. Or I might have tried to stop her. Or gone after her. I might have been crazy enough to get the whole tribe wiped out."

His son reached out and touched the back of his hand.

He almost cried. "I woke up one morning and she was just gone. I guess her vampire friends, the Cullens, must have helped her; they whisked her away. She left me with you. And that note."

"How did she know she was making the right decision?"

"She chose you; you're worth it."

"Sure, sure… but I meant … maybe things would change. They might have changed their mind. The Volturi?"

"One of the Cullens could see the future. They weren't going to change their minds."

The boy heard the conviction in his voice.

"How can you be sure she didn't go vampire?"

"She was adamant about that. And her spirit wouldn't be here with you now, if she was undead. She didn't want the Volturi to use her as a weapon against others. And plus they killed and fed on humans. She would never do that either."

The boy looked like he was processing all the information. He studied the head stone. "Is she even really here?" he asked.

"Yeah, she is. Her vampire brought her body back from Italy."

"Jeez," the boy swore. "I hope he was upset."

"Devastated. I never understood it at the time, but he had always wanted her to stay human. He loved her too. He would have preferred that she be alive and with me." He didn't need to say it; he was devastated too.

The boy looked at him perceptively. "What did you say to him?"

"I said thank you. But I didn't need to say anything. He was the mind reader; he knew everything I was thinking. You were fussy. You missed her. Feeding was an issue. We had to switch to formula and you were not happy about it." He paused. "And plus, I couldn't put you down for five minutes, without having a panic attack. I swear I carried you around for days before Sue Clearwater came over and almost smacked me upside the head. Made me go sleep while she baby sat."

The boy nodded. "She'd do that."

"You kept me human," he told his son. "In my grief and my anger, without you, I would have shifted. Gone lone wolf. Run. Run away."

"I get that. I feel like that sometimes too," the boy confessed.

"Could be the wolf in you, too."

He got an interested look. "You think?"

"You're my son. It's odds on. Provided that there are vampires around."

"A-and there are?"

He nodded. "Took one down last month."

The boy blinked. "Wow," he said, almost despite himself.

He wouldn't wish it on him, but it was his genetic heritage. And he needed to be prepared. He didn't believe that the pack should wait for panicked new recruits to phase before they could tell them the truth. They knew the signs now.

"Are you finished here?" he asked gently. It was getting late.

"I think so." He didn't sound sure.

"She loved you."

"I guess."

"You can come here anytime, you know that."

"Yeah." A pause. "I do, you know."

Yeah, he knew. "Me too," he confessed. He got to his feet to cover his emotion. "Come on, Will. Let's get home." He held out a hand to his son. He took it and hauled him to his feet. He kept moving as he rose to his feet and he hugged his father awkwardly.

"Love you, Dad," he mumbled into his chest.

"Love you too, Will."

And for just a second he swore he felt her hand on his cheek.

They pulled apart uneasily and he put an arm across his son's shoulders. They were getting wider every day.

"We're walking home," he warned the youth.

"Awww Dad," he whined.

He chuckled. As he was about to step into the forest he heard the faintest whisper.

"Love you, Jake," it said.

FF_2154210_1432344581 - 31/01/2012 11:11:00 PM