"Oye- enserio- you don't have to carry me-"

"I do, actually," Marshall answered with a particularly gruff rigidity to his voice. "You're injured. Way worse than I am. I'm not about to force you to walk for any extended period of time for no reason. It's not an issue. Promise."

"But you're hurt too-"

"It's not that bad-"

"I can feel you shaking!"

Blackened eyes momentarily rolled back out of annoyance before coming to attention again. 

Marshall's fight or flight response was still going haywire, leaving him full of adrenaline he didn't know how to expel in light of the current situation. Fierce rage toward his coven was still too encompassing, too blinding, to fully ignore for him to relax in any facet. A desperate need to ensure his pack mates were all okay took precedence over everything else. Having so much stimulation assault him at once didn't grant him the luxury of focusing on something as insignificant as his injury.

To be completely transparent, beneath his buzzing, hyperactive restlessness, he was in pain.

Immensely.

To the point where he couldn't control agonized trembles—his body's method of trying to force him to stop walking, stop putting off his own care, and to get some form of relief.

But no one else needed to know that. No one else needed to worry about him when other people were struggling more than he was. No one else needed to waste their time or breath to give him aid when he could do it all by himself.

He didn't want help. 

He didn't need help.

At least, not right now.

He was perfectly content with getting everyone else situated before worrying about his own ailments.

Really, it was the preferred route to follow to keep him from stressing to the point of becoming anxious.

Sam turned around to face both vampires. "Marsh-"

"I've got it- I've got him. It's fine. I'm fine." Marshall clenched his jaw to hold back a harsh wince. "A little gash like this is nothing. Besides, we're hardly two minutes from getting to where we need to be. There's no reason to slow down when our journey is about to end."

Understanding that pressing the issue further might possibly be met with anger, the other pack members simply continued walking without making any further commentary.

As soon as they broke through the treeline in front of the Lahote house, a unanimous decision was made to split up. Quil and Embry, as expected, volunteered to take Jacob home so they could watch over him until Carlisle arrived to reset his bones. Sam, Jared, Leah, and Seth volunteered to stay at the house since there were more of their injured family members who needed assistance. Plus, since they knew how riled up Marshall tended to get in situations when his loved ones were hurt, they wanted to keep a close eye on him as well. Especially seeing how his sense of self preservation dwindled for the sake of keeping everyone else afloat.

The first order of business when walking inside was to get Paul comfortable. A fluffy pillow was propped against the arm of the couch. He was set down in a way to keep him on his side, just to prevent him from being at risk of aspirating if he accidentally vomited in his sleep. A thin blanket smelling of apples was draped over his lower half to shield his exposed features. Then, seeing as his temperature was still climbing, several ice packs were taken out of the freezer. They were nestled on top of his head, behind his neck, and beneath both arms. Replacements were kept on hand to be swapped out at a moment's notice.

Seeing his husband taken care of, Marshall allowed himself to deflate a small amount. "I'm going to take Brad to my room and fix him up. I'm assuming Carlisle will come here as soon as he's done at Jake's. So...be prepared for that."

An attempt to turn around was halted when Leah began to fidget with her thumbs. She rose to her feet, uncertainty flashing across her face. 

"Do you...I mean, could you use a hand?"

"I-"

Everyone took a step forward as Marshall took one back. In doing so, he mistakenly nudged a wooden dining chair. Impact wasn't hard, however, he did graze a part of his abdomen which had been cracked. His sharp inhale couldn't be stifled. Nor could the short whimper which followed after.

"Maybe..." A strained cough shed light on how the minor bump knocked the wind out of him. "Fuck. Maybe that'd be for the best."

Leah nodded in agreement. She continued across the small room until stopping in front of her pack mate—or, mates, now—to help. 

Brad was slowly guided into a standing position with most of his weight still being supported by his best friend. A hand wrapped around his hip to steady him while upright. Quick spikes of pain from being adjusted made him grimace, teeth gritting together. Much warmer fingers glided across his back to offer comfort. He turned his head to address Leah, allowing his gaze to move away from the floor so he could give his full attention to her.

Both people stopped as soon as they made eye contact.

Leah's lips parted in astonishment. She looked between a pair of ruby-colored irises, completely transfixed. Additional heat ran away from her body in calm waves. Her heart began beating faster. An almost invisible tinge of red blossomed along her cheeks and across the bridge of her nose.

While Brad wasn't capable of having so many physical responses, his stare never faltered.

Well, imagine that.

Who would've thought, out of everyone Leah could've imprinted on, out of everyone the Quileute spirits could've gifted her as a lifelong companion, out of all the people to walk the Earth...she made a claim on Brad.

No longer a human but a vampire.

This was...quite the development.

Unfortunately, it wasn't one they could discuss right now.

So, shaking herself out of her daze, Leah wrapped Brad's arm around her shoulders to take some of his weight too. She gave a single nod to Marshall to let him know she was ready to move whenever he was.

Getting to the second floor was no simple endeavor—for Marshall specifically. Since he was finally starting to relax and all of the residual tension from earlier was fading, he could feel himself crashing hard. Distractions capable of compelling him to keep his focus elsewhere were now decreasing. Stinging, burning pain hit him with greater intensity with each second past. Extra weight pushing down on his injury brought tears to his eyes; though, they were quickly blinked away so no one else would notice them. An overall, full body ache clawed its way through his insides because of the multiple bites he received from Yasmine's gang as well. 

Dealing with foreign venom coursing through his veins, a section of flesh ripped open while actively in desperate need of attention, and heightening mental fatigue was...a lot. It was draining in every sense of the word. Dizziness was starting to show its ugly face. His knees were close to buckling-

"-arsh? You oka- mierda- hey, hey, hey! Easy. Tranquilo. C'mon, stay down. Be careful."

Brad's distressed voice brought Marshall out of his head.

He hadn't noticed they'd reached the room, set Brad down on the bed, already helped him out of his shirt, and wrapped his wounds up with thick, stretchy bandages from his lower chest to his hips.

Marshall also hadn't noticed his own crumbling state of health temporarily sapping his strength away, proven as he was now kneeling on the floor. His cheeks were cupped from the front, and his torso was supported from the back.

It appeared he'd fallen after finishing his task, and Leah was trying to stop Marshall from inadvertently harming himself further.

Brad's eyes darted along his friend's face to check him over for any additional injuries. "Lost you for a second there. You all right?"

"I- yeah. My bad." Marshall sighed. "I guess I didn't realize how exhausted I am."

"Maybe you should lay down for a bit-"

"No. Not- not yet."

Marshall didn't explain what he meant. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder to meet Leah's gaze. Then, he nodded his head in the direction of his room's entrance to silently ask her to leave and wait downstairs. 

She was reluctant to agree—which was understandable.

Leah just met her imprint. The reality finally dawned on her that the man she had a spiritual connection with had almost been killed. She needed a chance to sit down to talk about everything with him. To inform him of their bond and make a plan of what path to follow next.

But Marshall and Brad needed to have a more urgent, frankly long overdue conversation first.

Alone.

Brad's nod in agreement was enough of an urge for Leah to do as told.

Once the door was closed, he pulled Marshall up onto the bed so they could sit together.

A pale hand darted out to wrap around his friend's wrist when he reached for a new roll of bandages. "You don't have to. I can do it."

"You fixed me up. I'd like to return the favor."

Brad gently shook off the fingers clasped around his arm. He picked up the packet of sterilized gauze, tossing the excess plastic to the side. A ripped shirt was torn extra to fully reveal a partially hidden injury. Aside from a light hum, there wasn't much more said about the state of the gash—meaning, although extremely painful, it really wasn't too bad.

Brad began weaving the bandage in silence.

Marshall took a steadying, necessary breath. "How...are you?"

"Me? I mean, it hurts, don't get me wrong, but I'm sure I'll be fine-"

"That's good, but you know that's not what I mean."

A small sound escaped Brad. Whatever rebuttal he planned on saying got caught in his throat.

"You don't have to beat around the bush. I know you have questions. Things you want to say. Answers you want to get," Marshall explained, his tone void of emotion. "There's nothing for me to hide. Not...anymore. I can tell you whatever you want to know."

"Well..." Brad shrugged. "To answer your first question, I'm...okay. Like, actually. Being turned was a real shock to me, but after I realized what I was, I figured I should just embrace it. There was no point in freaking out about technically being dead since nothing really changed except for some little things. Yeah, I can't eat anymore. I sparkle like a disco ball in the sun. But that's all. Pretty minor inconveniences. I'm still me. Still the same person. I...couldn't say the same for Yasmine, though."

"Brad, I-"

"Before you apologize or feel guilty about her dying, you should know our relationship was already over by the time we made it back to Forks. After we awoke after our transition, I did some digging and found out Riley knew we were created to put an end to the Cullen coven. We both knew you were part of that family, which meant you were also a vampire, and Yasmine kind of lost it. She was pissed she'd never see her family again. That she wasn't human anymore and was going to have to throw away her identity to remain anonymous.

"She became consumed by revenge for being turned, but her bloodlust severely warped her views too. I think the reason she was so hellbent on killing you was to make up for the fact that she was killing so many humans. The Yasmine I used to know didn't exist anymore. So I broke things off with her. In hindsight, that was kind of stupid to do before the big fight because she took me dumping her as somehow being your fault."

"...Wasn't it, though?"

"No, it wasn't." Brad tucked in the gauze's end piece before gently smoothing it over with his thumb. "Regardless of why we were changed, it was Victoria who decided to turn us. And how we decided to take that was up to us and us alone. You've proved that being a vampire doesn't mean you aren't capable of having humanity. Yasmine chose not to. Besides, she knew how important you were to me. She wasn't above harming you as a way of somehow winning me back, so there was no point in me keeping her around. I don't regret killing her. I feel bad that her family will never see her again or get closure, but, honestly, chances are she would've gone rogue and killed them after losing control. I think I saved a lot more people by dealing with her in comparison to letting her live and allowing her to do whatever she felt like."

While Marshall agreed with the sentiment, he still felt guilty for not being able to stop things from going so far. He didn't voice his concerns aloud, however, since this conversation was more for Brad than it was for himself.

"Question-wise, I'm...curious." Brad's decision to remake eye contact was paired with an inquisitive head tilt. "How long have you been like this? You blend in well with people our age- so it makes me wonder if you've been a vampire for long."

"That's...a pretty loaded question. Do you want the short and sweet version, or the brutally honest one?"

"Whichever you're comfortable with."

Marshall's fingers twitched, drawing attention to how much he craved to shield himself. "Personally, I think the short and sweet version would be easier for you to handle because the genuine version isn't pretty. But I promised you the full truth. So that's what I'm going to give you.

"I know that when we first met, I told you I was twenty five. While completely true, it's because that's the age I was when I died. Or, uh, was killed, rather."

"Killed?" Brad asked, perking up in alarm.

Marshall scratched the back of his head out of nervousness. "Mm. Let me rewind a bit. I was born in 1908. I grew up with a close attachment to my father, a feigned attachment to my mother, and an obligated attachment to my sister. I learned most of my life skills from my father because my mother was too busy playing favorites to ever form a real bond with me. She died when I was eighteen, but it wasn't something that ever really impacted me. I ended up fulfilling the role as parental guardian for my sister at the time because she was only eleven, and I urged my dad to go off so he could fulfill his dreams of expanding his business practice as a baker. I had to worry about a lot of stuff, so once my sister came of age, I kind of just let her do what she wanted.

"A bit before her eighteenth birthday, she met this guy named Royce. A few months down the line, they got engaged. Then, a few more months down the line, a night of drunkenness revealed his true colors as a cruel bastard who only saw value in my sister's appearance. One thing led to another, we were surrounded by Royce and his friends, and in trying to save my sister, I...was gang raped. They beat me while it was happening, and the same happened to my sister once those guys had their sick fun with me. My injuries were really bad. Transitioning into a vampire actually took some fighting on my part so I wouldn't die. But...yeah. That was back in 1933. I've been a vampire since then."   

"...All of those bastards are dead, right?"

"I saw to it myself."

"Mm. Good."

Marshall's lips curled upward in amusement. "Getting a little protective there, Romero."

"You're my best friend. Something as traumatizing as that should've never happened to you. Of course I'd be protective."

Any trace of playfulness immediately dissipated.

Brad was such a sincere person—a trait which followed him from his life as a human. When he loved something, he did so with his entire heart. When he cared about something, he fought for it with everything he had. When he was territorial over something, he would stop at nothing to protect it.

He represented the sun in the way he acted: bright, beautiful, and warm. 

Marshall, constantly filled with freezing darkness, didn't think he deserved to have a friend like that. Not when he'd lied about so much in regard to himself.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Brad asked, shifting his position to face his friend completely.

"Never telling you the truth. About who, or what, I am."

"I didn't ask because I didn't think it mattered. If you wanted to tell me, you would've. If I needed to know, you would've said something. But you didn't. So I never pushed it."

"You did wonder, though. You knew that there was something off about me. You were just too polite to admit it."

Brad's silence acted as unspoken confirmation.

"Humans aren't allowed to know about my- our kind. It's against the rules and could end in death for both of us. Still, that wasn't the only reason I never let you in on my secret.

"It was really because I...was afraid.

"I'd always wanted to tell you because it felt unfair to lie to you. If there was ever someone who always deserved the truth, it was you. But I couldn't give it. Not because I was afraid you'd tell someone. I was terrified that you wouldn't be able to look at me the same way. I was terrified that you'd see me as the monster I saw myself as. And I know that it was wrong and it was selfish, but I just- I couldn't let you go. I couldn't say something that would risk me losing you- so I just didn't say anything at all."

"Marsh..." Brad scooted closer, taking his friend's hands in his. "I've told you before, haven't I? You're my best friend. Mi hermano. No matter what has happened or will happen, I'll stand by your side through it all. You wouldn't have gotten rid of me so easily."

Marshall wanted to curl into a ball and hide. Instead, he just glanced down at his lap.

"Do you...do you really think that little of me?" Brad wondered and, boy, Marshall couldn't have him thinking something so wrong.

"No. I think that little of me. You don't know how many people have used me to fulfill their own dreams. How many people have trampled me into the ground after no longer finding a use for me. How many people have claimed to love me, only to stab me in the back at the earliest convenience. I've constantly been made to feel like I'm dispensable.

"I'm damaged goods. Broken property. Aside from you and the pack, I've never been important enough to matter to anyone. So it's been carved into me that I have to keep even the closest of companions out of arm's reach. To protect myself from getting hurt...

"But, you're right. You would never do that to me. You're sitting here, holding my hand, acting like nothing has changed, even though I just dropped all this on you. I really am ridiculous."

Brad frowned. "That's not true. There's nothing wrong with being cautious if you've been through so much. You...ah, as they say: No hay mal que dure cien años. You might've experienced a lot of bad, but no matter how bleak things might get, the darkness won't last forever. There will come a time when you're able to let go of the things holding you back. It doesn't have to happen all in one day. It doesn't even have to happen today. But it will happen. Someday. Trust me."

With heartfelt words like that, how could Marshall not?

"...Okay."

He was pulled into a tight side hug, legs draping over his lap. The gesture was reciprocated by leaning into Brad's space, Marshall's head settling in the crook of his neck, with a hand running up and down his spine.

Trading smiles, both men found themselves caught under a laughing spell.

"So. Wolves, huh? That's pretty awesome."

Marshall shook his head fondly. "Shapeshifters, but yeah. You've always fit in with us. Being a vampire just lets you get in on the action when we have to do perimeter runs and things like that. Relationships are probably going to get a lot closer now that everyone can be more open."

"Hm." Brad looked at the closed door, his expression turning...softer. "Who was that woman, by the way? The one who helped us. I've never met her before. Is she new?"

"Her name is Leah Clearwater. And she turned at the same time as Seth. We never really kept her around whenever you wanted to hang out because we really didn't like each other. It was a cultural thing. We got past it a little while ago. Why do you ask?"

"Leah," Brad tested the name on his lips, seeing how it felt to speak it into existence. "She's...pretty. Smells really nice too. Wait, is that weird to say?"

Marshall laughed so hard, he had to brace a hand over his bandaged wound. "A lot of weird things happen when your senses are cranked to above maximum. No worries. As someone who has a more keen sense of smell in comparison to other vampires, commenting on scents is actually pretty normal."

"Oh? I didn't know vampires could have differences like that in the way they sense things."

"There's a lot you don't know yet. And it's fine. That's why I'm here." Marshall snuggled further into Brad, committing his newly altered fragrance to memory. "I'll help you figure out the things you don't understand."