Chasing the Moon
A/N: Sadly, I don't own any of the wonderful characters you recognize from the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. I just get to play with them ) So I hope you enjoy.
Jacob often wondered that if he ran fast enough, whether the moon would actually allow him to seize it in his teeth and drag it from the sky. That if he pushed his body until his paws bled and his furry sides were aching with fatigue, he would be able to one day finally catch up with the moon. That beautiful, great white orb which hung like a promise, swearing to keep a source of light in the dark, black world until day time arrived. It was the one great source of illumination when everything else was so barren and cold.
It reminded him of someone else. The person he would not – could not – name. They of all people knew what it was like to hate a name with every fiber of their being. They knew what it was like to have two syllables rip apart your insides in one huge explosion of pain, and worst of all, remembering. They knew how badly it hurt to lose someone you loved. And despite all of the pain they had caused, they, like the moon, were his once source of light when everything else could be so desolate.
And she, like the moon, was completely beyond his reach.
"Jacob, enough," roared Sam, slamming his fist down on the wooden table and sending plastic cups and dishes rattling off onto the floor. Emily winced in the background as her fiancee's figure shuddered and blurred as he fought to keep himself under control. "Enough," he repeated, calming himself down slowly.
Jacob gazed back at him with bleak, uncomprehending eyes.
"Your thoughts, Jacob. They have had the whole pack listless and depressed for months. Months! Do you have any idea of the impact your feelings are having on us all?" Sam demanded, glaring at the strong, muscular person before him.
Idly, Jacob twisted the cord bracelet around his wrist. A wooden figure of a swan dangled from the black wire.
"Are you even listening to me?" Sam growled, seizing Jacob's wrist and yanking it away from his other hand.
His eyes widened as he saw the blood dripping from beneath the bracelet. The boy had twisted it so tightly that he had caused himself – a grown werewolf – to bleed. Sam sighed and dropped the hand, his eyes softening.
"I am worried, Jacob. We all knew you were bound to be hurt by B- her choice. But it has been over a year since she made it. You did not imprint on her, and she has moved on – and yet you still moan and weep around! I have tried to be patient, Jacob, really I have, but I simply cannot allow this kind of behaviour anymore. Every time you phase, you pull us all into a spiral of depression!"
Jacob stared at the blood slowly dripping from his wrist. Sam had come so close to saying the name.
Sam stared hopelessly at him. "I caught Leah wanting to throw herself off of a cliff yesterday! And Quil – Jacob, are you aware of the effect you are having on Quil? Claire said her first word a week ago – no surprise that it was 'Quil' – and she barely got a smile from him! If you weren't thinking these – these utterly suicidal thoughts, that would've been one of the highlights of his life! Yes, Jacob, it must stop."
"And how would you suggest I stop it?" Jacob's voice was hoarse from lack of use and Sam winced at the hollow tone of it.
"I know it won't get better right away. I can't expect that from you. But I need you to try, Jacob. Stop running so much. The C- they are of no threat to us at all, and you know that. You are running your paws to pieces and the more you run, the farther away you get from getting better."
Jacob gazed up at Sam from under his shock of black hair. What a suiting metaphor for his life.
"I wouldn't suggest this unless I thought it absolutely necessary, Jacob, but I think you need a break from La Push. A break from here."
With a roar, Jacob threw his seat aside and shot to his feet. "Are you throwing me out?!" he snarled, towering over Sam with a terrifying expression on his face.
Sam rose and then, slowly, calmly, raised a hand and placed it on Jacob's shuddering shoulder. "Jacob, look at you. This is not you."
Breathing hard, Jacob looked at his reflection in the cracked mirror behind Sam. His crazed eyes met the eyes of his reflection and he drew back. He didn't know the person in the mirror any more. Sam was right – she was never coming back for him. And the faster he learned that, the better. "I don't want to go, Sam," he sighed, his voice edging on a whimper. "Please, give me one last chance."
Sam surveyed Jacob and for the first time in a year, saw a glimmer of life behind his eyes. "One last chance," he repeated, tasting the words, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose we all deserve second chances."
Behind him, one side of Emily's lips curved in a semblance of a smile.
"A bar?" Quil repeated in shock, staring at Jacob as if he had three heads.
"A bar?" echoed Embry from behind Quil, eyes wide with surprise.
Jacob growled in annoyance. "That's what I said. Let's go to a bar." Inside, he fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course they would make this harder than it had to be.
There was an agonizing, protracted silence for a moment. Then –
"ALL RIGHT!!!!" crowed Embry, a wicked smile crossing his face. "Jacob Black is BACK!"
"A bar?" repeated Quil dumbly.
Jacob chuckled.
They stopped
Even he was surprised by the noise. He could not remember the last time he had smiled, let alone laughed. This had to be a good sign. "Yeah, I was thinking we should go to a bar. You know – pick up some chicks, or whatever people do at bars."
An even wider smile spread across Embry's dark face as he looked at Jacob with something close to joy. Quil, however, did not smile. "What about Claire?" he asked quietly.
"Sorry, buddy, Claire won't be of drinking age for a while yet," Embry snickered. "Unless you count chocolate milk as an alcoholic beverage."
Quil scowled at Embry, then focused his attention on Jacob. "Are you sure you want to do this, Jacob? What about-"
Embry drove his elbow into Quil's side and he let out his breath in a gasp of air.
"I'm sure," Jacob replied through gritted teeth. He could feel the light of the moon tearing into his back even as he spoke. How could he ever forget it?