DISCLAIMER: The Twilight verse and all that's recognizable belongs to Stephenie Meyer. The rest ? Just the product of my warped imagination. No copyright infringement is intended.


Captive Heart


The congregation gathered to pay their last respects at La Push cemetery on an overcast day. All of the Res, who'd known the deceased, had turned out in its entirety. From the elders - Billy Black, Old Quil and Sue Clearwater - through to the youngest members of the Pack. Well, almost all had shown up ... There had been one missing at the graveyard. A person whose absence couldn't possibly be ignored. Someone everyone had taken for granted to be there to comfort and support the bereaved. One by one, after the service drew to a close, the assembly slowly dispersed and headed off in various directions before the ominous storm clouds which had been gathering finally broke.

From the outskirts of the forest which lay at the edge of the cemetery, a lone wolf stood beside a vast tree trunk, studying the proceedings silently. Bright, highly intelligent, amber eyes were trained intently upon the three figures who remained at the graveside. Its gaze fleetingly passed over a tall, handsome man with gentle brown eyes, who had his arm wrapped around the slender waist of a willowy, strikingly beautiful Native American woman before coming to rest upon the third individual who stood beside them.

The wolf eyed the ruggedly handsome, strappingly built man with slavish devotion. Taking in the stoic expression on the lean, attractive face; the tension in his firmly clenched jaw; the pallor beneath his russet skin and the dark shadows which circled velvety golden-brown eyes that had missed countless nights sleep. The large, sleek wolf shifted uneasily as it continued to study the silently grieving man and gave a soft, anxious whine, wanting nothing more than to be at his side and provide some comfort. Some solace ... to take away his anguish and pain.

The couple remained by the older Quileute male's side in a show of genuine support. The raven-haired beauty, quietly encouraged by her lover, was attempting to persuade their bereaved kinsman to leave with them. She gently laid a hand on his forearm and pleaded softly, her action causing the wolf to stiffen in agitation. Its hackles rose and a low, possessive growl rumbled in the back of its throat only to cease immediately as the woman gave a sad smile and reluctantly pulled her hand away in an admission of defeat. The wolf's tail half-heartedly thumped against the tree trunk as the tension began to seep away from its body when it realized the man was equally determined to stay there. Giving in gracefully, although they continued to watch him with concern and affection, the couple finally hugged him and began to walk slowly towards the cemetery gates.

It wasn't long after they left, that the first drops of rain began to fall. The lone mourner stood silently, staring through unseeing eyes at the grave that was covered with bouquets and garlands of wild flowers. He slowly raised his right arm and began to loosen the slim black tie around his neck, before unfastening the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt. By now, it was raining heavily, causing the thin material to become transluscent and to cling to his impressive torso and the colour of the cloth contrasted sharply with his russet skin, as did the flattering, snug-fitting, saturated black denim which encased his taut ass, lean hips and long, muscular legs.

The wolf continued to watch from its vantage point. Torn by the need to approach the distraught figure before him or to flee into the depth of the forest. It hated seeing the usually calm, strong man suffering deeply, the desolate look in his dark, whisky-hued eyes and the anguished expression which ravaged his lean countenance. The beast whined unhappily once more, then took a couple of hesitant steps forward, its posture for such a powerful, fearless animal unusually submissive and wary. It had barely broken cover, when it saw the Quileute suddenly drop to his knees beside the flower-strewn grave and give an anguished, heartbroken cry. The wolf paused abruptly mid-step, clearly at a loss whether to continue forward or not.

The decision was swiftly taken from it. The man began to pound his fists furiously against the wet soil, taking out his anger, frustration, sorrow and grief upon the sodden earth until he fell forward, exhausted. Then, after a few minutes respite, he lethargically dragged his huge frame upward and lifted his face, revealing a face streaked with tears.

"W-Why ? W-Why did I have to lose you, Emily ? It isn't fair ! It's not fucking fair ... " Sam Uley dragged a large, grimy hand down his face in order to brush away the moisture, only to have it smeared with the remnants of wet soil. His usually soft-spoken voice rough with tears. "W-Why did you leave me ? I can't do this on my own ... not without you. I need you. I miss you, Em ... I fucking love you and I want you back ! I can't go on without you ... "

The heartfelt words clouded the unobserved wolf's amber orbs with misery and hurt. Stricken, it suddenly turned and in a flurry of dark silver fur, bolted, its sleek body weaving blindly amongst the trees as it tried to evade hearing any further words of love and longing from his distraught pack brother to the woman he'd just buried.

Sam, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the wolf's presence, of its need to remain close in order to comfort and protect its Alpha and paid no heed to his Beta's anguished howl of need and yearning from within the depths of the forest a couple of minutes later ...