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My chest heaves up and down like I can't get air into it fast enough. My heart feels as though it's demanding to break free from my ribcage. And the blood running through my veins feels as though it's been set on fire, like it might burn its way through my flesh. I want to run. Run, and never stop running. To know that I played a part in this is tearing me to shreds and the pain is so bad, so much worse than when I first heard from Charlie, worse than when I saw the broken body. I didn't just lose my father. I killed him.

I feel Nessie's arms wrap around me and I want to shrink away. Her touch almost burns. And that hurts too, the fact that I could ever not want her to touch me. It almost hurts more than the guilt. I've never felt this way, not when it comes to her, not when I love her so much I would give up anything for her. But how could I love her so much to the point of sacrificing my father's life? She begs me to look at her and it's so hard. It's so hard to drag my eyes up from the ground to look into hers and see what I've done.

"Blame?" I echo disbelievingly, my voice sounding harsher than I thought it would. "This isn't about blame, Nessie. This is about what really happened last night. Or did you not see what his face looked like under that sheet?" As if anyone standing there could've missed it. As if either of us could ever forget. "I did that to him," I shout at her before wrenching her hands off my face and holding her wrist up so that the ring is just inches away from her eyes. The ring that I'd picked out just for her which had sealed my father's fate. "And this - this did that to him."

I stare at her for a long hard moment, hardly even seeing her. It's a dead face that I'm seeing. But then the look on her face snaps me out of it and I begin to realise with horror what I'm doing, how loudly I was shouting at her and how tightly I'm gripping her wrist. I release her hand immediately and take a staggering step back, away from her. Never in all our years together as friends, as lovers, as imprints, have I ever been this harsh with her. And yet now… now I can hardly control my emotions because I never once thought for a moment that what we are, what we've always been to each other would lead us down this road.

Jacob

Tears. I see the tears spilling forth from her eyes, tears that I've always, always wanted to be there to wipe away. Yet here I am, the cause of them, and I can't find it in me to move. To apologise. To take it all back. How can I take it all back when I meant every word I just said? Our love was the cause of this tragedy. The one thing that I've always believed in, the one thing that I've always regarded as the most pure and perfect thing in my life, the very reason for my existence… had it always been set to betray me in the end?

I want to walk away. Walk, run, before I say or do anything more. But when she speaks, the firmness in her voice forces me to listen. "…I would give anything to bring him back. Back here. Back to you. Anything. If I could make this any different, or any better, I would. In a heart beat. But I can't..." I force my eyes shut to keep my own tears from escaping. For a moment that is all it really is. Grief. Grief, and the desire to bring him back. Nothing else would matter, if I could just bring him back. But then she says to accept it, to accept that it was an accident. And it goes back to being more than just a sense of loss, to becoming a sense of self-loathing.

"An accident," I repeat after her through clenched teeth, nodding my head. "Oh yeah, it was an accident all right. An accident that never had to happen. An accident that wouldn't have happened if not for my decisions." When has he ever travelled back from out of town that late? She's wrong. I may not be able to change it, but that doesn't for a moment delete the fact that I'm the one who put him on those wet roads late at night in the first place. It didn't have to be this way.

I wince when she holds the ring up. The moment my eyes fall on it, the inner turmoil builds up again. I love her. I could never regret loving her. When I slipped that ring onto her finger, it was because it represented everything good and beautiful in my life, in ours. It was because I wanted more of what was meant to be, because I was ready to embark with her on that journey towards the future that was always written for us. But I can't look at that ring now without seeing blood.

She says it's not a weapon, but it is. It is.

"It is."

The emotions are threatening to boil to the surface. It's too close, and so is she, and I can't fight off the anguish that's ripping through my soul as I look at them both. I take another step back, and another. I can't do this. I can't. I swallow hard and shift my gaze away from her. "Nessie, maybe you should… maybe you should go home."

Jacob

I stare into the mirror as I button up my shirt. Seeing the hollow expression and the shadows beneath my eyes, it hardly registers that it's me that I'm looking at. Where the last three days have gone, I have no idea, even though time seemed to move so slowly for me in that period. Like if I focused hard enough, I might be able to get it to stop, to rewind to before that night, before the crash. Late at night when it was dark and I was alone, I'd even tried to stop breathing for just a while, to see if that could happen. But it never worked. Maybe I just hadn't tried hard enough.

As I loop the tie around my neck, the image staring back at me just makes me more frustrated. I wonder why I'm even bothering to dress up like this, when this is about being close to my father for the last time, and it just makes me feel all the more detached because I've never had to be like this around Dad before. Except maybe a handful of times when he would laugh at me and ask if I was going to church. The memories stab me in the heart. I grunt furiously, tugging at the stupid tie trying to figure out which end's which. Damn this.

And then I hear Nessie walk into the room, her steps so silent that I wouldn't have noticed if not for the already looming tension permeating the air around us. I don't know why she's staying, why she didn't leave that day when I said that she should, why she's sticking around when I can barely stand to look at her. Like right now that she's working on my tie for me as if I'm an incompetent fool. "You going to be able to handle today?" she asks. I hear the concern evident in her tone, and yet that hurts even more. To hear the love in her voice when all it reminds me of is just that, our love, my love for her, and what it did to my father.

She tells me that she'll be right there for me if I need her and ordinarily, I would have loved to hear that. If my dad had died of a heart attack or old age, I would have loved to know that I had her close. Why wouldn't I, when her presence has always meant the world? But today I draw little comfort from her words. In fact I wish she just hadn't said it to begin with. As it is, it's like she's always there, like she's intent on making me see every single moment of the day the one thing that led to all of this.

"Handsome as ever," she says softly. The words that I would've smiled at days before, and responded to by pulling her in for a hug and a kiss, now make me feel almost repulsed. As if she's mocking me on the day that we're going to stick my father under mounds of dirt. I can't help the scowl that comes to my face.

"It's a funeral, not a wedding," I snap at her attempt at lightheartedness. And my own choice of words only serves to make things worse. Because it's the wedding that we were planning on having that's the reason for having to attend this funeral in the first place. I turn away from her and grab my jacket and keys. Nessie drove us around in the first two days, but I got back into the driver's side because I'd rather not sit in awkward silence anymore with nothing to occupy myself with. At least focussing on the road takes my attention off of her. "I'll wait in the car," I mutter as I stride out of the room and head outside.

Jacob

I start up the engine as soon as she gets in, determined to get there, get through the day, and get back. It's all we've been doing over the last few days. Going through the motions. Existing without living. Because I don't know how else to go about this. I don't know how to live this way. It's like a piece of me is dead too. In this moment, I feel lost and drained and tired, and when Nessie gets in and apologises, my heart softens slightly. She sounds timid, trying to consider my feelings. And I should know that it's not her fault, that all she's been doing is to try to make things less difficult to bear

But then my hands fingers on the steering wheel. I can feel myself slipping, falling, losing my grip, and I refuse to go down again. I can't, especially not today. "Forget it," I mumble as I start driving, my eyes fixed on the road ahead as I make it clear that I have nothing more to say on the matter.

When we finally get there, I take a moment to breathe before getting out of the car. We're going to say goodbye. For real this time. And everyone will be there, so that there will be no denying what happened anymore. Shutting the ignition off, I force myself to get out and meet the mourners. I'm going to have to see the sympathetic looks in their eyes. Hear a few dozen more 'I'm sorry's. I wish I'll never have to hear those words like that again.

As we approach, I see Rachel already there, along with most of the pack. To them Dad was just like family, not just because I'm like their brother, but also because he always looked out for them, and vice versa. But the moment my eyes come to rest on the coffin, they all might as well have disappeared. The body that lies in that coffin is not what everyone else imagines it to be. I swallow hard, glad that they never had to see it, but choking back on my own grief as I try to picture my father as he was when he was alive. I try, so hard, but the image refuses to come.

Jacob

Her hand squeezes mine. A torrent of mixed feelings lashes through me. I can feel what she's trying to tell me. She's trying to tell me that she loves me. But I don't know how to tell her I feel the same, not when our love now carries on its back the dark force that stripped the life out of my father. Who is in that coffin. Whose broken body is in that coffin. I don't know how, so my hand stays limp in hers, until she lets go of it to return Rachel's hug. I hear her speaking to Nessie, and then vaguely the mention of my name, but I barely hear the words being exchanged between them.

I only look up when I realise that the Cullens are approaching. The others have tensed up, because despite the treaty having been relaxed, this is still our territory. But I know they won't do anything rash today, out of respect my father. As soon as she comes into view, Bella locks eyes with me. Or at least she tries. I just give her a brief nod to acknowledge her arrival, and then turn away. "I'm going to see what else needs to be set up," I mutter to Nessie, leaving her to be with her family.

Jacob

I know what she's asking me. She wants to know if I can really go through with this. And the truth is that I don't know. In all honesty, I haven't actually spoken much about my father since he died. I've been dreading this moment. Not because I have no good things to say about my father, but because I have too many. I give her a pained look before slipping my hand out of hers.

The air is tense, awkward. They're looking at me expectantly, and I try to muster up the strength to do this for my dad, but it feels as though every good memory I have of him seems to be tainted. I hadn't prepared anything, knowing that nothing could possibly do him justice. I want to say something that he wouldn't have groaned and laughed at, but I find that everything I want to say about him is the epitome of the classic cliché. Because these are the ways I want him to be remembered.

I start to speak, trying hard to keep my voice clear the whole time. I talk about how he always taught me to love life, except at this point all it does is make me feel like a hypocrite because I don't know how to love life right now, when it's so cold and empty. I'm speaking about him in the past tense, and that only serves to make this even harder, even more painful. Because after today, the rest of the world will be moving ahead, into the future, while my father will always remain in the past.

I've barely spoken for three minutes when I feel myself starting to crack. I rub the bridge of my nose and have to clear my throat several times, but I still can't help but feel as if my chest is getting clogged up. "Billy Black was many things." I draw a deep breath before continuing, but now my voice no longer sounds the same. "H-he was a leader, he was a friend… a-and he was like a father to many. But to me…" It's then that I feel the dam break, and what I say next, I'm not even sure if anyone can make out. "…to me, Billy was Dad.

And it's like everyone else is not even there anymore. It's just me, alone, swimming in this ocean of sorrow. I start to back away and stumble slightly, covering a hand over my eyes as the sobs rack my shoulders.

Jacob

I feel her arms around me as I shatter completely, before everyone's eyes. I hear her voice whispering into my ear, softly, gently. And at first I just want to stay there, like this, this way, with her. Without a care about anything else. But then I feel her arms slip away, her touch replaced by someone else's, one of my brothers, though at the time I just can't tell which. Then he leads me back to my seat, where I sink back down, head bent and shoulders slumped, tears still flowing relentlessly. I realise that it's Quil that's beside me, his hand tapping my back. "You did good, Jake. You did good," he says, even though I did horribly. He doesn't mention my dad, probably because he doesn't want to trigger more heartache. But it makes no difference, since that's all that's in the air today. Dad and his death.

But slowly, the fog begins to clear and I'm sitting there realising that Nessie's taken my place up there. I try to shake myself out of it and start to listen to what she's saying. She's talking about how he was loving, how she was like a daughter to him. About how he never judged. About how he was always brought warmth to those around him. Everything she says about my father is everything I couldn't bring myself to say, only she says it all so clearly, with so much passion and conviction, that you can't possibly look away. She makes it obvious that she believes every word, and that she wants him to be remembered that way. When she throws a glance my way, I realise that those words are at least in part meant for me. She wants me to remember Dad as he really was in life, not as that broken corpse. And I listen. Isn't this why I didn't want anyone else to see his body in the first place? Because I didn't want that to be the way he was remembered?

"…then he said that he couldn't wait for the day when I would truly be family. And then we danced." Danced? This was something that I didn't know of. A private moment that neither of them had mentioned to me. And it occurs to me then how Dad would never want to resent Nessie, would never approve of the way I've been feeling about her and how I've been relating her to all of this. Dad had loved her lie a daughter. And he'd been thrilled to finally get to invite her into our family. These thoughts linger in my mind even as I struggle to keep my emotions at bay, as I listen to the rest of what Nessie has to say, and as she comes back to sit beside me, taking Quil's place. And when she does, when I turn to look at her and take her hand, for a moment it feels right again, the way our love was always meant to be. Not ugly and tainted with guilt, death. But warm and comforting, and it's a feeling that I realise, deep down, I've been missing, craving over the last three days.

Jacob

I close my eyes as I feel her forehead rest against mine. And sadness, in that moment, no matter how profound, seems like it might be bearable after all. We couldn't have stopped it, couldn't have seen it coming. My dad may be dead but… that doesn't mean that we have to be. As I feel her lips touch mine, I realise how the last few days seem like they've been lost to me. Like I was absent the whole time, like there's a three-day chunk of my life that's missing.

"I'm… I'm okay," I say quietly. I don't really believe, that I'm really okay. But for the first time since all this started, I believe that I will be. In time. And it helps to know that, that I don't have to be stuck in this hollow rut forever. I lift my other hand to rest against the back of her neck and pull her closer again, to return the soft kiss that she just gave me. "Love you too…"

My other hand moves over to cover hers, and that's when I notice something. The discoloured markings just barely sticking out beneath the sleeve of her black jacket. I pull the sleeve up and my breath catches in my throat. All at once, I recall how she got those bruises, how I held her hand up and shook the ring in front of her eyes. Gently, I lift her hand up and press my lips to her wrist as the tears slide down my face.

Jacob

She tries to make excuses for me, as if anything could justify it. I look at the bruises and then back at her, shaking my head slightly. "It's not okay," I whisper sadly, sighing as I lower our hands again. It's not okay to hurt her. It could never be okay. I wonder if she should really be around me like this. Not because I don't want her around, but because of what I could do to her. Judging by what I've already done. But one look at her and I know I couldn't have made her leave if I tried.

After really, truly saying goodbye to my dad, the rest of the day goes by in a daze. At some point, Charlie comes over and tells me that there's something from the wreckage that was salvaged that I could go and pick up at any time. I'm not sure if I want to, to see another broken piece of my father's legacy, but I know that I have to or I'll always wonder. But not today. I'm too drained and exhausted to do it today.

Somehow we manage to linger, exchanging a few words with the others. Somehow I manage to get us back to my place. And then somehow we both end up lying in bed together, just finding solace in each other's company. She falls asleep after a while, while I lay awake for most of the night, as I've done for the last few nights. So many thoughts go through my mind, so many thoughts and memories and images that I can't piece together, that contradict each other. I try not to pay attention to them, to focus instead on watching her even breathing, the peaceful half-smile lingering on her lips even in her slumber.

And then morning comes, and I can't lie still anymore. I need to get up and do something, to get myself moving and my mind working. I decide that I need to go and pick up whatever it is that Charlie was talking about, to get that out of the way and maybe after that I might be able to begin moving on. Careful not to jolt the bed so as not to wake Nessie, I lift myself off the bed and start to get ready.