i've come undone / but you make sense of who i am

red, "pieces"

chapter 8.

deserving

The shower's running and Leah's singing when he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"—take back your memories, they're no good to me! And here's all your liiiiiiiiiiiies, you can look me in the eyeeeeeeees… with the sad, sad look—"

It's way better than that damned Sheryl Crow she sang all the way from Yuma to Tucson, but it's frighteningly off-key and enough to make even ancient bloodsuckers cower. It's a wonder nobody's knocking on their door to see if the strange girl from out of town is being murdered. Still, Jacob can't bring himself to shut her up — the whole thing is so refreshingly normal — and he stretches himself leisurely over the bed as she sings about hoping to give someone hell.

Him, probably, he thinks. Leah's not one for subtlety, and he deserves every single headache she stopped herself from giving him last night. Instead, she'd let him curl around her and hold on until his bones ached a little less and until the painful throbbing in his head (which had disappeared almost entirely the closer he'd gotten to Forks) had dulled to a steadier beat.

He wonders how long ago it was she finally prised herself away; the space beside him on the small mattress which he's kept open for her even in unconsciousness is cold, but the other bed on the other side of the room is still untouched and he has to fight against the lump in his throat when he realises it means she stayed with him all night.

He wonders if they will never speak of this again, like they never speak of the night in the forest after fleeing from the river.

He wonders what makes him so deserving of such loyalty from the girl with a type of anger which keeps everyone at arm's length. Leah has always been the first one to call him out on his shit — even as children, when she was seven and he was four and she'd declared herself the leader of the Boys Not Allowed Club she'd formed with his begrudging sisters (who only wanted to paint nails while she wanted to climb trees and play Truth or Dare but Mostly Dare). She had dug a hole on First Beach with Rach and Becca and pushed him into it when he cried for not being included.

The singing turns to humming as Leah turns the shower off, and it's a few more minutes before the bathroom door opens. She leans against it and looks at him critically, much in the same way that he looks at her.

Jacob knows what she'd seen when he'd finally found his way back to her, because he'd seen the same thing himself in the mirror: long but healing red marks all over his skin from where he'd scratched and bitten himself until he'd bled; the dirt from four different states on his cheeks, his arms, his knees and his feet; the shame of what he'd done clouding his bloodshot eyes. But Jacob wonders whether Leah knows what he'd seen when he'd looked at her, and if she had seen it for herself.

He'd held her for hours after she'd fallen into a deep sleep, her face pressed into his chest and her fingers still clinging to the cheap shirt she'd left out for him. He'd whispered more apologies into her dark and choppy hair which tickled his nose, wishing that never again would he be responsible for the haunted look on her face but not daring to allow himself make such a promise. She had done her best to hide her sadness and her exhaustion and her anger, but ever since she'd become Pack it was hard to keep those kinds of things from him. It was even harder now that he had accepted his birthright and she was the only person in the world who he was responsible for — or at least, the only one who mattered and who he wanted to be responsible for whether she thought she needed looking after or not. And she most certainly did not.

"Can we get some CDs the next time we stop?" she asks when she's finished making sure he's definitely still in the room, and he's finished making sure that he's not caused his Pack any permanent damage. He might as well head back to Forks right now if he's screwed this up.

"Sure," he says, training his eyes back on the ceiling instead of the tiny towel covering her body. It's strange that she's asking for permission first, rather than forgiveness — and she never usually does that, either. "None of that depressing soul type of music or anything, though."

Leah swipes at his feet hanging off the end of the bed as she passes. "I think we've gone past that stage, Jake."

"You left," he said, when she eventually found her way back to their spot at the river. He'd been unsure on how long he'd have to wait and if she was even ever going to come back, and he had worried that he had finally pushed her to breaking point — all the way back to Sam, where he'd not long since forced her brother and Embry to go.

Leah firmed her chin, unapologetic and unconcerned. "Yes. And I came back."

Jacob pulled a face, and turned away. Her scent was off, like Bella's had become. Wrong. Threatening. Because Bella smelt like a bloodsucker, and Leah smelt like Sam. Both made his blood rage, and his head spin. It only became worse when she took her usual place beside him and crossed her legs. Whatever she'd done, whatever she had sought Sam out for, she'd been close to him — too, too close — and the wolf in him saw the insult; it thrashed and bucked against the smell of the challenge which clung to her skin and her torn, dirty clothes. Leah was his Second. She was his. Despite all his efforts and determination to fly solo, he knew he would never be without her again. It wouldn't make sense after having come so far together.

"What happened?" he managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"Kicked butt. Took names. We need to build up our reputation a bit."

Leah had been making more of an effort to keep her personal feelings to herself as of late, but he knew all too well that she was as uncomfortable spending her days on Leech Land as she was watching him struggle — not because she cared, but because he was her Alpha, and an unstable Pack was a vulnerable Pack. He also knew that she cared very little about her reputation, and that she wouldn't have left if she hadn't thought it worthwhile. She would not have approached Sam alone for anything less than Extremely Important.

Jacob turned back to her. "Hope it was worth it."

"Maybe I'll tell you about it sometime," she replied. She flopped onto her back and closed her eyes, not giving him an invitation to push for a better answer.