Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Twenty-One: Embry-Wan Callobi

I couldn't remember when the dreams started again.

Most mornings when I woke up, I never quite felt rested. It accounted for why I'd been so irritable upon waking lately – much more than my usual self. I put it down to a change in routine, and the complete battering my sanity had taken since all of this power stuff started. Hey, I was allowed to be exhausted, wasn't I? It wasn't such a huge crime that I snapped at Paul or grunted at Mike when we opened up the store together.

But then there was the rollercoaster of emotions. Some days, I felt powerful and resilient and like I could take whatever else life had to throw my way. Others, I was completely dejected and it was a little more difficult to actually get on with my day. I'd assumed it had a lot to do with losing Jacob, and living under constant threat, but even on my best days – like spending time with Leah or the previous day with the guys, I'd still get up the next morning with that same looming sadness. You know the phrase, 'getting up on the wrong side of the bed'? Well, I'd always attributed that to having a less than pleasant dream, maybe one that wasn't quite remembered, but the mood spilled over into waking life. I'd been feeling like that quite a lot.

This was the first time I actually remembered the dream.

I was standing in that field, the remnants of a great battle obscured only by a haze of acrid smoke and ash, and I was being torn down the middle by where I was and where I needed to be. It had all the appearance of a memory, but it was fundamentally changed. I could feel the silent presence of Edward at my back, hand on my shoulder as I struggled to fight my way to the figure on the ground, surrounded by warm bodies with a look of utter devastation on each of their faces. I looked to Leah, but her dark eyes avoided me, devoid of the familiar acceptance I'd come to take pride in. She wasn't my friend, here.

I begged and pleaded, and struggled through the crowd, fighting my way past their immovable structures until I came face to face with Embry. He wouldn't look me in the eye either.

"Please, I need- I have to see him. This is all my fault!"

He soundlessly deliberated, the grip on my shoulders relaxing just enough to dodge out of his grasp, around his stature and fall to my knees, tearfully, to the ground. I clenched closed my eyes, reaching out to touch, but my hand hovered in the air, afraid to make it – any of it – real and tangible.

"I'm sorry, so sorry... please, I'm sorry..."

It was a prayer, a declaration and a bargain all at once.

I'll be better if you make it through this. I won't hurt you anymore. Please don't leave me.

It was only when I blinked through the tears, my vision finally clearing for the first time that I was jolted awake.

Because it wasn't my own father who was lying on the cold ground, body broken and out of shape, unconscious from the weight of his pain.

It was Jacob.

My pillow was saturated with tears by the time my phone vibrated with a message, some time around noon.

Hey, It's Embry. I got your number from Leah, she said something about payback for meddling? Whatever that means. Um, I know you probably forgot about the Star Wars marathon anyway, but Quil can't make it, so... rain check?

A swell of relief at the everyday innocence of it all washed over me, and I cradled the phone to my chest, smiling. Something about it seemed so rehearsed and planned out, but the endearing simplicity of it all was what made the grin stretch across my face. Things weren't so complicated in the waking world.

I wanted to push the dream out of my head, and to forget the overbearing guilt and sadness that took seat in my heart, its weight crushing my insides without apology. Here, I might not have Jacob, even as a friend, but at least I wasn't hurting him, and at least he wasn't clinging to life with a broken heart caused only by me. It didn't seem so complicated to find the reasons why fate had decided Melanie was the better choice. I'd only ever been a burden.

Was the dream real? No, but it could have been.

I needed distraction, and I re-read the message again, smiling at the prospect of spending the day with two of my favourite guys – until I actually gleaned the meaning from it. The smile fell straight off my face. I realised an entire day of nothing spanned before me,with Charlie spending the day wit some of his buddies in Forks - and that's when the panic and dread set in. I hadn't heard from Leah since she left my house on a mission, and part of me was too scared to get in touch in case it really had blown up in her face. I just couldn't imagine a world where she and Paul let their guards down easily. After all, although I knew how he felt about her, he'd never actually come out and said it. Was it totally wrong of me to encourage him, or to send Leah off after him without more extensive recon?

I knew the actual reason for feeling like this – I needed to be around people, because if I wasn't, the feelings of guilt and misdirection and loneliness crept back in, and it wasn't something I wanted a whole day of. But what could I do?

Don't tell me, he got a date with Megan Fox and had to bail?

Hah! He wishes. Nah, had to cover at the store for his mom, so he's probably spending the day eating candy and reading comic books.

So Quil was tied up for the day, but wasn't this supposed to be about educating me? And there wasn't any law against two platonic friends hanging out together.

Alright, so I was desperate, and I didn't want to tell him the real reason I needed the company; I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts.

Hey, would it be totally crazy if you came over anyway? I've got nothing planned all day, and I'm kinda intrigued to see what all the fuss is about.

There was a long pause then, and suddenly my heart was hammering, like I'd just asked someone out on a date. I put the phone down and moved away from it, pacing the room in an effort to distract. Maybe the next time I looked at my phone, he would have replied.

I got as far as the door when the lip-chewing started, and I shook my head at the sight in my full-length mirror. This was Embry. I had no reason to be so nervous, and even if he said no, I could just find something else to do.

But I wanted to spend the day with him.

I realised, when Embry was around, I didn't feel so worthless and misguided anymore - I felt justified and legitimised. I felt like, even though I'd been through so much and even though a lot of it was through my own volition, I had a right to dwell on it, and make sense of it in my head – because I'm eighteen years old, and teenagers are allowed to make mistakes and allowed to wallow in them - or live in denial if they choose. With Embry around, I felt normal.

More than that, when I smiled, it wasn't to appease anyone, or to be a smart-ass. He made me smile like I really meant it, because I did. Still, I couldn't help diving back on to the bed and sending a follow-up message, giving him the escape clause.

But if you have no interest in spending the next few hours hanging out with some lame girl who's never even seen Star Wars, that's totally okay. :)

I erased the smiley-face, but then typed it again. Wait, was it too 'I'm trying way too hard to sound nonchalant'? I erased it once more, but then I'm pretty sure I typed it one last time before hitting send and stuffing the phone under my pillow. Rolling on to my back, I blew a lock of hair out of my eyes, tapping my toes to an imaginary rhythm. I was behaving like a fifteen year old, for crying out loud.

This time, the phone vibrated instantly, and the pillow hit the opposite wall in my quest to retrieve the device.

Give me a half hour.

One thing was for sure, a cursory glance in the mirror told me that I'd need a lot longer than half and hour to look like I hadn't spent the night tossing and turning in my sleep. He'd agreed to come over, though, and I didn't want to rock the boat. Maybe if I asked for more time, he'd realise he really was busy after all.

After a short reply, I was showered and dressed and towelling my hair when a hesitant knock came to the door. As I opened it, a smile spread over my face, and I held back a laugh - because Embry, quiet, enigmatic, cool-as-a-cucumber Embry, was rapping.

"My backpack's got jets, well I'm Boba the Fett! Well I bounty hunt for Jabba Hutt to finance my 'Vette... WIKKI WIKKI WIIK!"

He was doing some sort of elbow shuffle and rolling his fists as I pulled the door back to fully reveal him, staring at his feet as he danced. I bit down on my lip to keep from spluttering – it was a complete departure from the mysterious, contemplative demeanour I was used to, and it was adorable as hell. He was dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and a well-worn pair of skate shoes. His backpack, however, did not have jets.

"Well I chill in deep space! A mask is over my fa-"

It was only when he straightened up and raised his eyebrows, gaping silently at me before an elated smile spread across his face, that I saw his shirt. It was bright green, had an image of the character I recognised as Chewbacca on it, and the word "Wingman" emblazoned across his chest. I chuckled at the aptness of it. Embry certainly did play that role a lot.

"Hey, Em," I greeted lightly, stepping back to let him into the house. "Thanks for coming over."

He was still smiling at me when he remembered to answer, and he shrugged. "''S no problem, it's not like I was doing anything. Did you do something to your hair? It looks really nice." The whole thing came out in a single breath, and I frowned at him, touching the end of my hair as he took off the backpack and set it down on the floor.

"No, why do you ask?"

He studied me again and scratched the back of his head, causing his shirt to ride up slightly, exposing the lower part of his stomach and the faint line of hair disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. I had a feeling he'd bought it pre-phase, because it wasn't exactly the best fit for his height anymore.

His face twisted in contemplation as he looked at me. "Just looks different, is all." He crouched down and opened up his bag, rummaging around inside.

"Guess I haven't blow-dried the waves out yet? I don't know," I theorised, just as a loud rumble of hunger was heard from his stomach and I laughed. " And I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet either?"

He looked sheepish as his hands disappeared into his pockets. "I was kind of in a hurry to get here," he admitted, his tone going up at the end, like it was a question, and he grimaced like a kid in trouble.

"Wow, you must really like Star Wars," I laughed, just as he pulled out a pristine box-set of the three movies, followed by seperate versions of each one, too, holding them up for comparison. He looked up when I spoke, and I turned to move into the kitchen. His reply was unintelligible as I opened the fridge.

"What was that?" I called to him as he followed me, and he just smirked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Alright," I countered, eyeing him before my attention fell back on the shelving. "Why don't I put some food on, and then we can get started on Episode One, or whatever."

Embry gave an exaggerated sigh, and laced his hands on top of his head, shaking It wearily.

"Okay, so we're not starting with Episode One..." I surmised, and he nodded, raising an eyebrow encouragingly. "Because...?" I realised I actually didn't know why we wouldn't begin a story at the start – he sighed and dropped his hands before answering.

"Because we're watching the original trilogy in order of release, and the first movie is actually Episode Four. The second trilogy were prequels." He made it sound like the most obvious thing in the world, which I guess to him, it was.

"How silly of me," I deadpanned, crinkling my nose. "You sure I wouldn't be better watching one of those synopsis videos online?"

His mouth gaped slightly in response, and he fought a smile. "Oh, we're doing this. You're not going to convince me otherwise, Bella. I have no idea how you got to be eighteen and have never seen Star Wars. You're gonna watch it and you're gonna like it."

"Yes, Sir," I saluted back sarcastically, muttering 'bossy' under my breath. He gave me a tight smile in reply. He'd heard me perfectly – stupid werewolves.

Just over two hours later, he twisted on the couch expectantly, hitting the eject button on the remote. "Well?"

"I suddenly 'get' about a thousand different parodies and references that went over my head before," I breathed, running my hands through my hair to twist it into a messed-up bun, and he laughed.

"Yeah, it kinda sucks that you're not going into this completely clueless," he mused, "But it's not completely ruined, right? I mean, you still enjoyed it?"

I realised that for some reason, it was very important to him that I actually enjoyed the film – and truthfully, I really did. Because the version he'd shown me was remastered, everything looked new and sleek. It helped that the plot was so far removed from reality that it hadn't dated much in the thirty-some years since release.

"Once someone stopped explaining in detail who every person on screen was, and went from quoting the script aloud to just mouthing the words? Yeah, then I enjoyed it."

He gave a shy smile. "Sorry, Quil's pretty much used to it by now. I just wanted to be sure you got it all.."

"Didn't you say you were seven when you first watched this?" I asked, folding my arms and leaning back into the padding of the couch. He nodded. "So, don't you think that, if you at seven managed to follow it, I should be able to?"

Now he really did look admonished. " No shit..."

"It's okay," I laughed, giving his shoulder a light shove with mine. "It's the same deal with me watching Pride and Prejudice. You're forgiven."

His one-sided smile made a brief appearance before he leaned over the arm of the couch to retrieve another box. "So, on to Empire Strikes Back?" he said hopefully, but I gave a guilty look towards the kitchen.

"I really should clean up breakfast... I didn't get a chance to before you yanked me on to the couch. You know it's not fair using werewolf strength against the puny humans, right?"

He grimaced sheepishly and shrugged. "I hadn't watched this in like six months, I get kind of into it, okay?"

"No need to feel bad," I soothed, chuckling. "But you could make it up to me by helping me clean up..."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as we both got up. "Help me Embry-wan Callobi, you're my only hope!" I wailed, giving him my best pleading look, and his tongue appeared between his teeth as he fought off laughter.

"Okay, really no fair using Star Wars references to get what you want."

"Just using the force," I shrugged, giving him a sly smile over my shoulder as I made my way back into the kitchen.

"A smart-ass, you are," he muttered in a Yoda-voice, shaking his head. He still followed me, though.

Due to the bottomless-pit nature that went hand-in-hand with who – or what – he was, I found myself cradling a family-sized bowl of popcorn throughout the first hour of The Empire Strikes Back. Embry was engrossed once again, and if I was being honest, half the pleasure of doing this was watching him. I knew when an important plot point was approaching because he would lean forward on the couch, bracing himself for the scene. If a humorous line was on the way, he'd begin smiling before it was even uttered. I'd never seen him so free, so without composure as when he was lost to the events of a galaxy far, far away. I guess we all needed an escape from real life, no matter who we were.

He caught me staring on one such time, just as Han Solo said goodbye to Leia with a spontaneous, passionate kiss.

"What?" he asked, his eyes darting away from the screen to give me a sidelong glance.

I shook my head. "Nothing, it's just- It's really nice to see you like this, Em," I smiled.

"Like what? Devastated because they're about to encase Han Solo in carbonite?" he shifted uncomfortably on the couch, frowning at the screen, as if somehow the outcome would change this time. He was oozing nervous energy, too - clearly not quite used to being so candid.

"No, like you don't have a care in the world. It feels like forever since you've been this way. I guess I missed it."

He turned to look at me fully, a soft smile gracing the corners of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow. "Thanks?"

I suddenly felt bashful – maybe the reason we didn't normally talk like this was because we both had too close a relationship with the blush response. "Um, you're welcome. "

He cleared his throat. "Aw, crap – we talked over it. Bad times, Bella," he said lightly, changing the subject as he moved to click the rewind button on the remote. He settled back into the couch, focusing on the screen again, but I didn't miss the smile adorning his face, as he shot me one more covert look.

It was only when I decided to retrieve the final instalment from his backpack when he went to get us drinks, that I made a revealing discovery. Groping around for the last case, I pulled out something entirely different – a spiral note book, covered in messy scrawls and doodles, some of them pretty impressive, and general keywords with boxes drawn around them. Printouts and photos were peeking out from the pages, dog-eared and well-worn from repeated touches. At first glance, it looked like something from school he'd forgotten was in there, but none of it was anything I was familiar with from the high school curriculum.

"Well fuck, that's just embarrassing," he said, entering the room again and breaking my concentration. I felt instantly guilty and looked at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I pulled it out by accident. Not snooping, I swear..." I said, holding up the book and my other hand submissively.

"It's fine," he said, not meeting my gaze. "I forgot it was in there." He set the drinks down on the coffee table and took his seat beside me, accepting the crumpled pad back and reading over the exposed pages, obviously checking what it was that I'd seen. I knew I shouldn't pry, but curiosity got the better of me, and I had to ask.

"What is it?"

He pressed his lips together and closed the book properly, shaking his head. "It's stupid, forget you saw it, okay?"

"It didn't look stupid..." I said, wondering how far I could get with this until he completely shut me down. "Come on, you're just making me more curious by being all secretive about it." I gave him a playful nudge and he turned to look at me, contemplating whether to spill the beans or not.

"Promise not to laugh?" he said, eyeing the book again. I made a cross over my heart and nodded solemnly. He held the book back out to me again, cringing.

I opened it up on a random page, finding a detailed description of a character, down to traits, motivations and a background history, complete with possible real-life counterparts.

"What is this?" I said, turning to another page. "Is it notes for a book or something?"

"A screenplay," he clarified, cringing again. "Sometimes I get ideas and sometimes I'm stupid enough to actually write them down and develop them, like they'll actually come to fruition. That book is where I keep them all together, so they'll stop gnawing at my brain."

I was lost for words, flicking to another random page where he'd bookmarked screenshots of other movies, making notes on cinematography and tones, outlining the positives and negatives critically.

"This is really detailed, Em," I breathed, finding another page with large blocks of text which was highlighted in some areas, crossed out in others, and had notes written in the margins. It even had lines of dialogue – some beautiful and poetic, others dark and forboding, but each with its own established style. From scanning the page, I could tell it was really good, and way beyond anything a regular seventeen-year-old would come up with.

"I mean, you aren't messing around here..." I nodded towards the screen, where the menu from Empire was still playing on a loop. "It's not just Star Wars, is it... it's movies. That's your passion." He looked at me curiously for a beat, before he huffed out a breath, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that... movies, TV..." His eyes avoided mine as he leaned back into the cushions, uncomfortable. "Ever since I was little, I've dreamed of being this big shot director, or a writer, I'm not exactly exclusive to either – and to put my ideas on screen. I mean, it's totally stupid, but it's an escape, you know? That's what film should be – a complete detachment from reality."

I was silent as he talked, watching the emotions play out on his face with each sentence. It was the exact way I felt about a great book, and why I re-read so many of the classics, but was still constantly on the look-out for the next fix. For him, like me, this was more than a hobby – it was a bright spot in an otherwise tumultuous life. When my mom was neglecting our time together for her latest obsession, or when I needed to forget about life for a while, I turned to the characters in those books like old friends, constantly there and waiting for me any time I needed them, just like any of the familiar faces in his collection. As he continued, he went from being uncomfortably shy discussing it - to embroiled in the idea.

"My mom had this old camera stuffed in the back of a closet, and when I was like, eight or nine, I found it, and just lost my mind. I didn't put the thing down for, hmm... Most of puberty, until it broke. Wasn't surprising since it was probably made in the '70s," he smiled.

"But that's when I got the bug. I made all these stupid little videos and movies – one was even about the whole werewolf myth around La Push, but-" he started laughing, "There aren't any wolves in Washington, so I substituted with Quil's ancient golden retriever, Benny." I found myself smiling too, imagining the quiet kid with the camera, marching around calling the shots and ordering his friends like a true auteur.

"Quil's a terrible actor, and Jake, well, he just wanted to do special effects, and got pissed that I didn't include any explosions. I think we all agreed not to make any more movies together after that..." he trailed off, frowning. "Actually, I'm pretty sure that's how the camera broke – we judged a stunt wrongly and the lens got smashed."

"And you never got another one?" I asked, desperately wanting to hear more.

He shrugged. "It's just me and my mom, and it's not exactly high on the list of necessities."

"But you never stopped getting ideas," I surmised, looking towards the book again. The page was open on a detailed re-imagining of the classic Jekyll and Hyde story, set in modern-day Chicago. Despite the established source material, everything else, down to the twists for currency – Jekyll was a woman, involved with a powerful gang looking to come up with the next big drug to take to the streets when she decided to become a human guinea-pig - was completely original. His face contorted in abashed agreement.

" Mine are just stupid little scribbles... I'd really kill to come up with something half as good as Philip K. Dick. He's like my idol... his writing is responsible for Blade Runner, Total Recall, Minority Report.. totally mindblowing stuff. The guy rarely got it wrong. If I had even an ounce of that..." he gushed, shaking his head. "I just keep coming up with stuff in the hope that some of it is at least passable - it's like once something gets into my head, it won't go away until I write it down somewhere. I'm not actually going to do anything about it."

"Why not?" I asked, genuinely wondering how such a passion could be squandered. He shot me a withering look.

"In case you haven't noticed, Forks isn't exactly heaving with Hollywood talent, and it's not like film school is a feasible choice for someone who bursts into a furball at regular intervals."

It was supposed to be light and in jest, but I knew better than that – it had to be hard to accept that your dream was no more than a distant fantasy. Not for the first time, I hated what this part of my life cost those I cared about. Embry as smiling in quiet acceptance when I shook my head.

"No, it shouldn't be the end of it," I said frustratedly, and he raised a brow. "Look, I know what you said is true, but Embry – these ideas, the inspiration behind them, the motivation to actually develop them? Not everyone is just born with this." I gestured towards the book in almost disbelief.

"So you can't got to film school – there are so many movies coming out these days which are complete success stories and only cost about a thousand bucks to make. Do you think these people went to the big studios with their ideas? Probably, and they were probably shot down, but they did it anyway."

I closed the book again and held it out to him. "Aren't you the one who told me that we're only really the loser if we stop going for what we want?" I leaned my head to the side, watching as he considered my words carefully.

"Have your fall-back, sure, go get a really boring degree and a boring job, but don't let your secret ruin your life, and don't let it take this away from you, because once you do that, it eats up everything else, and you're left with nothing but resentment. Take it from someone who knows."

He was lost for words as he studied me, but hadn't taken the book back yet. I nudged him again with it, raising my eyebrows. "Promise me? Promise me you're not going to stop doing this, because if it makes you happy, then it's worth everything." He finally reached out and grabbed the book, nodding dumbly as a look of surprise played over his features.

"Good," I said, satisfied, "And don't forget to invite me to your first premiere, right? I want to meet some potential movie stars."

Then, he smiled. "I promise."

"Alright... now, am I going to see some Ewoks, or what?"

It's safe to say I fell totally in love with the Ewoks, cooing with delight over them as Embry made comments about how much of a 'girl' I was. He claimed I just had a soft spot for furry things with a little fight in them.

In fact, as it was drawing to a close, I found myself getting more and more saddened that my excuse to hang out with him was ending. Today had been exactly what I'd hoped for – I'd had company so I didn't have to dwell on what went on in my head when I was alone, and I'd managed to strip away some of the mystery around Embry – and I really loved what I'd found. He was so much more than he let others see, and if anything, I felt a new kinship towards him, that someone to whom secrets were a rare and precious thing these days, he'd told me one of his own freely. To be trusted with that, and to have a part of him on display was pretty humbling.

The sound of Charlie's return was his cue, though, and he was still sat on the couch, putting his belongings back into his bag when the door opened.

"Hey Bells, hope you haven't cooked yet, cause I was thinking about ordering-" I turned to regard him, wondering why he'd cut off mid-sentence. He was standing in the doorway, holding an overflowing police file in one hand, and excited grin split his features when his eyes fell on Embry. He looked to me in question. "Well damn, son, ain't you a sight for sore..."

The sentence trailed off once Embry turned to look at him and stood, pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Hey, Chief," he said curiously, shooting me a questioning glance.

"Oh, sorry, kid... I uh, thought you were someone else." My heart sank at the tone of his voice, and the instinctual knowledge of who he'd mistaken Embry for. It would be a very long time before that person and I were spending a day like this together again, if ever.

"Embry and I just had a movie marathon," I said by way of explanation. Charlie nodded as he went to hang his jacket by the door.

"That's nice. Must have been good if you actually got Bella to sit through it all," he jibed, shooting me a sly smile.

Embry nodded. "Yeah, everyone has to see Star Wars at least once in their life, right?"

Charlie eyed him sternly. "Originals, or that trash that came out a few years back?"

"Originals, of course," Embry scoffed, as if anything else was blasphemy.

Charlie gave him an approving smile. "This kid ain't the dumb one Billy caught eating boot polish, then." I laughed heartily at the mental image of Quil being reprimanded with black stains all down his chin. "Are you staying for dinner? I'll give you a ride home if you're not," he said, attempting to be polite, but something about Charlie was off.

"Uh, no, but I got a way back, thanks... " he said distractedly, clearly thinking the same thing I was. He turned to me. "So... this was fun."

I smiled. "Yeah, it was. Feel free to educate my deprived mind any time you're at a loose end." We began walking towards the door slowly as Charlie made his way further inside.

He laughed lightly. "You have much to learn, my child. Next time: Doctor Who – the reboot."

I raised a brow – Star Wars I could handle, but the image of some stuffy English guy mincing around in a phonebooth battling killer robots didn't sound all too appealing. "Alright, if you think I'll actually like that..."

"Trust me, you will," he said knowingly. "Anyway, I gotta go... it was nice seein' you again, Chief."

Charlie was already engrossed in the file he'd come in with, but looked up to nod politely. "Sure thing, Embry. Don't be a stranger, 'kay?"

I stopped at the door, noticing that there weren't any vehicles in my line of vision. I frowned, glancing up at him in question.

"Dirt bike's hidden in the trees, don't worry," he whispered smugly, glancing towards Charlie over my head. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Yeah.. I wasn't kidding about doing this again, you know."

"Neither was I," he said, turning to leave, but looked back over his shoulder. "And hey - there's someone waiting on the couch for you... Bye, Bella" He disappeared out of sight then, and I turned confusedly back inside.

Nestled in between the cushions, was the Ewok toy he'd bought at the rummage sale, cleaned and looking good-as-new. I picked it up and lovingly hugged it, smiling at the fact he'd brought it here, knowing I'd fall in love with them so deeply before I ever watched it. How the hell did he do that?

I sat on the couch again, opposite Charlie's recliner, where he'd laid out more of the file pages in front of him and was scrutinising them carefully. I hugged Wicket to my chest, watching my father closely.

"Got something interesting, Dad?" I said, turning the stuffed animal around to face me as I smiled. It was a tell-tale sign that he hadn't even switched on the TV yet.

"Just some case files – missing persons," he muttered before looking up and frowning.

"What have you got?" he said, gesturing to the toy. I smiled and looked at it again.

"A really good friend," I said.

A/N: Well, this was a monster of a chapter, but I really wanted to develop things between these two a little more. How are we liking geek Embry? Is it a complete turn-off, or are you totally into it? Let me know in the comments!

Embry's rap: www. youtube watch?v =baRCq3twqww

Embry's shirt: www. superherostuff ?itemcd=tsstrwrswokwing