Characters: Embry, Bella, Charlie
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Word Count: 2527
A/N: This is unbeta'd and unpre-read because I wrote it as a little get well soon gift for a friend a while back when she was under the weather. Despite being a get well soon gift, it's really not fluffy. It hurts, but in a good way. Kinda. ;)
The Quiet One
Charlie and Billy sat on the Blacks' front porch early on a Friday afternoon, getting ready to toss back a few Vitamin Rs before heading out to their secret hidey hole where all the fish of legend lived.
Jake and Bells were tinkering in the garage on some project or other and everything was right in Charlie Swan's world for five blessed minutes.
The peace didn't last long.
It never did in La Push.
At the sound of some fair-to-middlin' cursin' that made Charlie's macho heart proud, he sat up just as Jake and Bells emerged from the garage to see what all the commotion was about. Out of the woods came a half dozen boys, all of 'em in shorts and not a one among 'em wearin' a shirt.
Bells' eyes widened.
Charlie scowled.
Until he really looked and took notice of what caught Bells' eye.
She was running, her voice gone shrill in distress, she begged, "Embry, honey, what happened?"
Holding his blood-splattered face in rock-steady hands, she examined the damage.
Her own blood might turn her stomach, but when someone was in need, his little Bells was all business and no nonsense.
She'd fall apart later when it was convenient.
Mumbling a few words of explanation, Embry eyed with disdain the seat Bells indicated so she could cluck over him, his little mother hen.
She started barking out orders like a five-star general, whipping a T-shirt out of the one fella's back pocket and pointing to a chair. Embry slumped in it, unwilling to look her in the eye when she pressed him for more answers while they waited for Jake to come back with warm water to tend his cuts and ice for his broken nose.
"It's that cunt who calls herself his mom!" a big, angry one yelled in reply to the questions Bella wasn't getting answers for from the bloody one. Charlie fixed the big, angry one with his cop glare. There was no need for that sort of language with his little girl present.
Then he recognized the foul-mouthed, angry boy.
Lahote.
Well, if that was the kind of company the kid with the bloody nose kept, Charlie supposed he shouldn't be surprised the kid turned up bloody at all.
Though the Lahote kid's reaction to the quiet one's mother was … unusual, to say the least. Lahote had never given a shit about anyone or anything other than himself in all the years since his first run-in with the law.
Charlie adjusted his pants officiously, forgetting he'd removed his gun belt and locked it in the trunk of the cruiser before he and Billy settled on the porch for a spell. He felt naked without his sidearm when he looked down his nose at the motley crew gathered around his little girl.
She looked perfectly at ease, like she patched up broken noses as a hobby every Saturday.
With all the Saturdays she'd been spending out here on the rez, Charlie supposed that could actually be true, taking a good look around at the muscle-bound boys she called by name.
She knew every one and they knew her.
Charlie scowled again. He figured this was a good time to step in—show 'em how a cop gets the job done. "Bells, give the boy some breathin' room. I'd like to ask him a few questions."
Billy cleared his throat, grabbing Charlie's attention. He shook his head at him.
Charlie held up one finger, a silent petition to hear him out.
Descending the porch stairs, Charlie noted his first mistake. It wasn't that Bells was so tiny, but that these boys were all so huge. Every one of them was built like Jake, and nearly as big, too!
Stopping in front of the sulky one with the busted face, Charlie squared his shoulders. "Bells called you Embry. That your real name or some kinda nickname?"
Embry glared at him.
"His name is Embry Call, Daddy," Bella said with a quiet huff of breath as she dabbed gently at his face.
Charlie couldn't remember the last time Bella had called him 'Daddy'.
"He lives on the rez with his mom, but she's Makah. He's sixteen and he goes to school with Jake, and I can assure you, there is nothing that he did to deserve this. There never is." Her voice was bitter, angry.
"Bells…" Jake said in a quiet tone of warning.
Glancing up at him briefly, she looked away in disgust, shaking her head.
"Your mother hit you, boy?" Charlie narrowed his eyes, watching for signs of a lie.
"Let me guess?" the boy sneered. "You wanna know what I did to piss her off, right? Like existing isn't fucking enough when she's on her third bottle of Jack since noon, right?." He snorted in derision, pulling away from Bells. "Fucking hell, Bells! Leave it alone. It'll heal."
Her response was sharp, telling him to hush and let her do what needed doing for once. Later, he could hiss and spit all he wanted if he needed to get it off his chest.
It was a struggle, but Charlie managed not to grin with pride. His little girl didn't take shit from anybody.
He pulled out his notebook, licked the tip of his pen for good measure, and asked, "Where ya live, son?"
"I'm not your son," he snapped.
Bells laid her hand on his knee and his shoulders slumped. She murmured quietly to him.
He shook his head.
More murmuring.
He sighed, then shrugged in defeat.
Bells looked up at Jake, a silent request passing between them that Charlie couldn't discern.
It was like these kids spoke their own language or something.
Jake pulled Charlie aside and gave him a briefing on Embry's home and family life and the address, ending with a plea for him not to go there.
It would only make it worse for his friend later, Jake swore.
"You'd vouch for this kid, Jake?"
"What?"
"You'd vouch for him? He's a good kid?"
"Yes, sir, absolutely. He works for the council, makes good grades, even volunteers." Jake was nodding solemnly the whole time he spoke, his eyes wide in an ingenuous face that reminded Charlie of sticky hands and faces and too many lollipops when he and Bells were toddlers. Charlie had never seen Jake so subdued.
This friend seemed to mean an awful lot to his daughter and Jake. It spoke well of him, to Charlie's way of thinking.
"Dad?" Bells interrupted, twisting her fingers in the hem of her T-shirt. She glanced over her shoulder at the boys, all of them watching her warily. "Could I speak to you alone?" she begged her father.
He hitched a thumb at the cruiser.
Climbing in, they closed the doors and rolled the windows up.
Bells sat, hugging her elbows across her middle, eyes trained on her knees.
The silence hummed between them for several long moments.
"She hits him because his father left her an unwed teen mother. She hits him because she can, sometimes just because he's a good kid, Dad, because she begrudges him fitting in here," Bells eventually said under her breath.
"Bells, that doesn't make any goddamn sense," Charlie groused, shifting in his seat to glare at her.
"He has tribal duties that his mother doesn't understand because she's Makah. Billy has tried to explain it to her before, but she either doesn't understand or doesn't care … or she's too drunk to remember. I wish I knew. All she sees is Embry's absent father when she looks at him and she thinks history is repeating itself. He comes home late sometimes after fulfilling his tribal duties with Jake and Sam—always with the blessing of the Elders, but she gets so mad. She hits him and accuses him of things he'd never do. I swear he's a good kid, Dad. Billy would vouch for him in a heartbeat and so would Sam. You trust them, don't you?"
Sam had pulled his baby girl out of the woods on the worst night of their lives. He'd trust Sam with the keys to Fort Knox and a gassed up getaway car at that point in his life.
"Baby girl, your word is enough. If you say he's a good kid, I'm sure he is. He's a big fella, though. You don't think maybe she's got her wires crossed and lashed out during an argument? People get carried away, especially if his mom was drinkin'. It could just be a misunderstandin' with her—"
"It's not. She's a mean drunk who resents him for no reason other than the choices she made that he has to live with." Her lip wobbled. "I hate that he'll have to go home to her later and maybe she'll still be mad and she'll hit him again and he'll just have to take it because she's his mom and he won't hit her back or defend himself. He wouldn't hurt a fly, Dad. And he has nowhere else to go."
She clenched her fists in her lap. "Because she's mad at something he's obligated to do for the tribe, he'll go to bed hungry tonight on a bare mattress on the floor in a bedroom with no heat that's barely big enough for him to stretch his arms over his head. Then he'll go to school hungry tomorrow because there's no food in that house because she drank the grocery money and she'll blame him for that, too, and I hate it, Daddy. I hate it."
Her eyes filled and a pair of teardrops spilled over. She gasped hard—just the once—trying to get a hold of herself to stem the flow of unwelcome tears. Dashing them away, she stared at the moisture on her hands and begged in a hoarse whisper, "Please don't make him go back."
She looked at him then with her wide, watery brown eyes, a lock of hair falling in her face. "He could stay with a friend, right? One of the guys? I could make a big pot of chili and corn bread and they could come over for dinner. It's something. Friends help, right? That's what you're supposed to do."
Tucking the errant lock of hair behind her ear, Charlie tried to find his voice behind the lump in his throat, taking three tries to clear it. "You know what he needs for a few days? You could write it down?"
"Dad?" Her eyes darted up to his, back and forth, searching for answers to unspoken questions.
"He'll stay with us in the spare room for now. I don't have jurisdiction out here on the rez, but I'll work something out with Billy and the Elders. He can't go home if it's as bad as you say. For now, he'll need a week's worth of clothes, at least. I'll have Mark meet me over there with a couple of duffel bags and pack it up myself. If there's anything important, you have him write it down on that," he said, holding out his notepad.
"Thank you, Dad," she whispered, launching herself into his arms for a brief hug and the sweetest little peck on his cheek. He couldn't remember the last time she'd given him one of those.
She was back in less than a minute, explaining that Embry kept a small bag of necessities at Jake's, enough for a few nights and a toothbrush. He also had basic financial information and certified copies of his birth certificate and social security card in the bag at Jake and Billy's.
But Charlie had been listening to Bella and Embry when she pulled him aside.
Seemed the kid had long ago decided not to keep anything important to him at home because his mom was as likely to destroy it when she was mad as she was to burn the house down around their ears while she slept.
Charlie grimaced at the naked assessment of the boy's home life. He had time to wonder what had happened before this that had the kid putting together such a thorough running-away bag and choosing a safe house to store it.
He hoped to hell his Bells had never had to pack anything like that, but God only knew what kind of life with her mother had made his baby girl so grown up at such a young age.
It made his heart ache just thinking about it and the long months between their too-short visits.
If helping her friend out with a safe place to sleep and regular meals was all he could do today, it would have to be enough for now.
"One last thing, Bells," Charlie said, grabbing her wrist before she could climb back out of the cruiser. "You and this boy. There's nothin' … ah… While he's staying with us—" He cleared his throat, wishing for the ground to open and swallow him whole rather than have to talk to his baby girl about sex. "You're not seeing this boy—are you, Bells? Dating him?"
She blinked at him in silent shock.
"No, Daddy." She shook her head. "He's just a friend, a good friend. He and Jake are like brothers. I would never…"
"Good, good," he breathed a sigh of relief, patting her hand. "See it stays that way. I don't want any funny business under my … ah … roof."
His mustache twitched and Charlie thought he'd about had enough of that conversation. "You better go check on him, Bells. Make sure he keeps ice on it so it don't swell up too bad tonight. I'll meet the two of you at home later. I'll call and let you know how my visit with his mom goes when I'm done there," he promised.
"Thank you so much, Dad." Bells' voice was a whisper when she hugged him hard one last time before climbing out of the cruiser.
Embry had slung his small overnight bag through the window of Bells' truck and stood leaning against the door, arms crossed, head bent over hunched shoulders.
The others milled around the door to the garage with Billy watching over them from the porch. He waved Charlie off with a promise to be up early the next morning to head out to their fishin' spot.
Bells grabbed Embry's hand, tugging him after her like a reluctant pup after its mama.
As Charlie pulled away in the cruiser, the last thing he saw was Bells settling on an old sofa Jake had hauled out to the garage some time ago, patting her lap and looking at him with those big, beseeching eyes of hers. Embry lay down beside her, turning over—away from his friends who suddenly found the ground fascinating. He lay his head in her lap.
The other boys sat quietly in lawn chairs and on upturned buckets, some sprawling on the floor, heads bowed in unified silence.
Stroking his shaggy hair with one hand, she rubbed circles on his back with the other. Murmuring quietly for his ears only, she did her best to patch up Embry's other hurts, the ones they couldn't see.