A/N: Shock — yes, I really am going to write in past tense. I read my fics back and realised with a slow sort of horror that I rely on 'says' too much, so have set a new challenge. Let me know if it works, if it doesn't, what you like and don't. I will try and keep the drabby feel that Now and Then had, though I might not succeed going by this first chapter.

Between Who You Are will continue. I decided that a global lockdown has presented no better time than to write two fics exploring the same themes from opposite ends of the field. This could go very right . . . or very wrong.

Love you all, as always. Let's go.

"Ready to tell them all about what a bad influence I am?" Leah asks, bracing herself. It's not only the Council who are waiting for them. Sam is, too.

"You're a saint compared to me lately." Jacob squeezes her fingers, drawing her eyes to him. His face softens. "You don't have to be here, you know."

"Yes," she says resolutely, "I do. Anyway, where would I go? Bit late to start leaving you now."

Leah smiles at him, bright and whole with that wonderful, wicked humour in her brown eyes. Jacob doesn't know what he's done to deserve such loyalty, such faith in him. She really would follow him anywhere.

He will love her his whole life.

"I'm never going to get rid of you, am I?"

"Do you mind?"

"No."

— Now and Then, Epilogue: "Next (Jacob and Leah)"

No one ever got my soul right like she could.

Dermot Kennedy, "Dancing Under Red Skies"

Old Quil had been yelling for . . . seven minutes now, by Jacob's estimation — though the clock in the community centre which had been commandeered by the Council for the afternoon had never worked quite right.

The last time Jacob had stood before them had been much the same: Old Quil yelling, Jacob watching the clock, whilst everyone else averted their eyes. His refusal of their offer to step up and become the Pack's Alpha and the tribe's true Chief had turned Old Quil a deep shade of purple so rich that even Billy Black had moved his chair away.

Seven minutes ago Jacob had told them that he refused to step down as an Alpha, and Old Quil had suddenly looked fit to burst once again.

Under the guise of shifting on his feet and scratching the back of his neck, Jacob snuck yet another glance at his second-in-command, and best friend in the whole world, and let loose a tiny smile. It was instantly returned as she allowed her mask of boredom and complete disinterest to slip for a moment and grinned back at him, wide and brazen. She could have been mistaken for laughing at his apparent stance of discomfort under Old Quil's reprimanding, though she knew as well as he did that not a single person or wolf in the room was paying her any attention from where she stood with her arms crossed and back to the wall.

Leah threw him a quick wink before her eyes darkened again and her mask snapped back into place, a stunning picture of nonchalance. She lifted her chin slightly towards the table he stood before. Focus, now, she seemed to say. You're being given the telling-off of your lifetime. Make it good.

Jacob obediently looked away. He had been granting himself a glance at her every now and then, but only for a second or two at a time; he knew if his gaze lingered too long then he would laugh, and she knew it too. That facade of boredom and disinterest was for his benefit only. The rest of it — the hint of disgust at having to breathe the same air as those who'd never had her back, the contempt for Sam, the defiance . . . that was all hers alone.

He couldn't laugh. He couldn't. He was in enough trouble as it was, no thanks to the Cullens and — well, just the Cullens. They had always been at the root of any issue put on the Council's table to debate.

Or rather, Old Quil to rave over. Bella and her bloodsuckers had left two weeks ago, taking Renesmee with them, and, though the old man and the Council may have celebrated with the rest of the tribe, they were still in disbelief that Jacob had been the one to order them away — his imprint included.

It was unheard of, what Jacob had done. He had continued to leave shocked faces in his wake since that first despicable act of abandoning his Pack in their hour of need, and it was clear that they were still loathed to forgive him — even if it had been months ago now. But, he supposed, after he'd unwittingly created a new Pack of his own and his wolves had vowed to stand with him against all odds in attempt to protect Bella's child, only for their new Alpha to then imprint on that child and reject her in the same breath, the Council had been screaming its outrage since. Even his own father who sat upon it was still struggling with his disappointment, and Billy was by no means excluded from Jacob's suspicions that the Council would likely rather be seen to shake Carlisle Cullen's hand before they forgave such insults.

All except for Sue, maybe. Although Jacob had taken her only daughter away as far as Florida to prove freewill was something that still existed, Sue Clearwater seemed happy that Leah was happy. In fact, the woman looked as if she'd rather had enough of Old Quil and preferred they all be left to get on with their own lives now that the tribe was whole again.

Beside her, Sam Uley didn't seem too unapologetic about being the one who had summoned Jacob and Leah back to La Push under the pretence of all-out war. But he did look uncomfortable, and Jacob knew without asking that it was because Sam was trying as hard as he was to not kill off the competition. There was a reason there couldn't be two Alphas in one territory; their instincts demanded they fight. And Jacob was dying to rip his teeth into Sam's hide.

Today was the first time they had been within touching distance of each other since the Packs split, but Jacob supposed he'd have to get used to it if neither of them were willing to step down. That was, of course, if Leah didn't beat him to the punch and drew blood out of Sam first. Jacob knew that she'd noticed Sam had been doing his best to keep his eyes off her, too, though likely not for the same reasons as he was.

The two Alphas stared at each other, firm, unyielding, their skin burning as Old Quil continued to rant at the top of his lungs.

"—unheard of! There have never been two Packs before. It—"

"Never have this many sons phased before," Billy countered.

Leah cleared her throat, and when everyone in the room turned to her she held a hand to her chest and feigned a look of confusion. "What?" she asked them all innocently. "It's dusty in here."

Jacob was the first to avert his eyes. No smiling. No laughing.

"It is," she protested. "It's disgusting."

While Sue glared at her daughter, Old Quil's sigh was one of exasperation. "Sons or . . . daughters," he added begrudgingly, because the elder had never quite gotten over that particular shock and likely never would. "It doesn't matter. We can't possibly have two Alphas. Division like this simply begs for disaster."

Jacob straightened his back. "Maybe—" he began to say, because he hadn't said anything for nearly ten minutes and thought perhaps he should make some kind of effort. He felt the whole room tense. "Maybe that makes us stronger."

Old Quil shook it off quickly and scoffed. "With one Pack of eight and another of just two? No. We need only one Pack. One Alpha. One true Chief." He looked meaningfully at Sam, and then dubiously at Jacob. "Someone," he said pointedly, "who does not shy from his responsibilities."

Leah bristled in the corner of Jacob's eye.

"We are all on this Council," Billy said, "and yet you sound like you've made your mind up for us already."

Old Quil sat back in his chair and raised a white eyebrow. "What would you rather? A tribe with split loyalties? One protecting the Cold Ones, and another doing their duty?"

"Now wait a minute—"

Old Quil cut across Billy Black. "No. That boy," he spat, jabbing a withered finger at Jacob, "shirks his heritage at every opportunity. He refused his birthright. Now he refuses his imprint! What next? I will not allow such . . . cowardice at the head of my people!"

From the far side of the wall, Leah's snarl was inhuman, deep and without end. It reverberated off the walls, crawling over Jacob's skin and settling deep in his bones. His Second's unwavering loyalty had her about five seconds away from phasing and ripping out the throat of the Council's figurehead, and though Jacob was inclined to let her have her heart's desire, he raised his hand.

"Hold it, Leah."

She deliberately waited for the echo of her death threat to fade into silence before she cocked her head and blinked at him. "For how long?" she asked sweetly, ignoring her pale audience.

Jacob willed the smile which threatened to splay over his lips into something like indifference. "Let everyone have their say."

She flicked her eyes at Sam and back. "And what if I don't like what they have to say?"

"You are not part of this Council, young lady," Old Quil snapped spitefully. "You'll do well to remember that."

Both Jacob and Leah turned on him, but it was Jacob who spoke first. His voice was unwavering, cold, resolute. "She's my Second, and she has as much right to be here as I do. She's more than earned her place, but you wouldn't know that, would you? God knows you've ignored her existence since she joined us."

Old Quil sputtered. "I have done no such—"

"At her first bonfire, you shook her brother's hand and welcomed him. Did you do that for her?"

The room was silent save for Jacob's heart thundering, though he had to admit that even Sue looked as if she were about to commit murder.

"That's what I thought. Now," he demanded, "will you let someone else talk — or is my dad right? Have you made everyone else's mind up for them?"

"No," Old Quil grumbled quietly. "No decision has been given."

As she settled back against her wall and began to inspect her nails with an abnormally critical eye, Leah's grin was nothing short of smug.

Old Quil didn't speak for a while after that.