tonight's the night the world begins again
Goo Goo Dolls, "Better Days"
thirty-one.
(Jacob)
Nearly two hours later, the fire has almost died to embers and Jacob is listening to Leah's quiet and steady breathing as she sleeps against his chest, oblivious to the Elders and the pack finally making their leave around them.
Save for her hand that clings to his arm even in sleep, she is limp within his hold and slumbering more peacefully than he thought her capable — would have thought, at least, had he not previously seen the dark shadows around her eyes and the evident weariness in the way she'd been holding herself since before sitting down.
She had been valiantly trying to hide it, but of course he had noticed. He'd noticed it the moment he'd caught sight of her waiting for him.
He's not sure how long she had been fighting her exhaustion for, or when exactly it was she finally gave into it. Around the time he had quietly begun glaring at Sam over her shoulder, maybe, just begging him to look in their general direction again.
Jacob had been entirely too-aware of the glances being snuck their way whilst Billy and Old Quil had been talking, and it was only because Embry had pummelled him into the ground not long beforehand that he'd been able to close his eyes and feign sleep. He'd have leapt to his feet and throttled the other guy, otherwise.
Fortunately he doesn't think Leah was particularly aware of his silent challenge to the Alpha who all but declared his undying love for her. (It still grates, that Sam feels like . . . that, and Jacob is honestly trying not to think about it too much otherwise he'll split his skin.) At the time, she had been too busy throwing particularly vulgar gestures across the flames at Paul — a game between them, of sorts, made all the more dangerous as they'd tried to get away with swapping the most offensive signs under the noses of the stern Council.
It hit Jacob halfway through their so-called game that Paul was related to her: they shared Uley blood; both Leah and Sam were Paul's cousins. Twice-removed, but cousins nonetheless. (It kind of makes sense, really; Leah's temper and Paul's are almost evenly matched.) But what had been even weirder than that realisation, though, was seeing Paul's teeth flash in laughter rather than a sneer. Jacob couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his brother laugh like that.
At one point, Paul had directed a gesture at him, balling his fist up and lifting it to his mouth before looking pointedly at Leah again and mimicking something truly obscene. Jacob's lip had curled, a vicious snarl brewing as he compulsively pulled her closer to his body, and the pack's collective sharp intake of breath had been heard across the field. They had all been watching the scene out of the corner of their eyes, amused and confused and—
"Well done, sweetie," Leah crooned, voice slow and gentle in the way she might talk to a toddler to praise them — but still softly enough that those without a wolf's keen senses wouldn't be able to hear. The Council remained none the wiser. "I'm surprised you even know what that means, considering the only person who's ever going to touch you is your mother."
Paul spluttered, his brothers erupting into booming laughter around him, whilst Leah had simply leaned back into Jacob with a satisfied noise. Triumphant.
Leah: one, Uley pack: zero.
Jacob wished that he'd been able to see the look on her face. She had known exactly what she'd been doing, too. She had known exactly where to strike to make her mark without having to surrender to the gazes of anyone else. Because Paul Lahote was nothing if not predictable — he always took the tiniest bit of bait so easily — and he probably didn't even realise that he'd been used so that Leah could break the ice and assert her position amongst them. So that she could make it clear she belonged; she was one of them, even if they did not necessarily want her. Even if she did not necessarily want them.
Nobody seemed to stare at her after that. And it had clearly relaxed her enough that she'd fallen asleep, now that she had deemed the worst of the bonfire to finally be over.
Jacob still feels proud about it, of her, even now. He'd be happy to bask in it for the rest of the night, but he's sure she won't appreciate waking up on a bench with a sore ass and cricked neck by the time dawn rolls around.
He gently nudges her awake, murmuring quietly — and nonsensically. Who'd have truly thought that Leah Clearwater would be the one to turn him into such a sap? He'd have never dared believe it.
She stretches out against him, pressing her whole weight into his as she digs her fingers into his forearm, rolling her head against his shoulder, and the groggy noise she makes has him questioning why he decided it was necessary to wake her up in the first place, because damn if that sound doesn't go straight to his gut and make him want to apologise. He almost tells her to go back to sleep.
It's another few seconds of incoherent noises before she suddenly stiffens against him, all at once suddenly awake and aware again of where exactly she is, and she groans as reality sinks in.
"How long was I out?"
"Uh — not sure. I wasn't really paying attention," he mumbles, otherwise occupied with savouring the feeling of her between his legs, still soft and pliable against him before she slips away. Because it's almost too good to be true — all of it. He has half a mind to pinch himself.
Leah lifts her head up lazily, just enough to be able to look around. Jacob can't see her face, but she seems surprised when she notes the smouldering fire and the empty seats around it. "They're gone?"
"Only just. Your mom went with Billy and Old Quil," he tells her quietly, smoothing her hair down which is free of its usual braids and cascades freely all the way down her back, curling ever so slightly at the ends. "The guys — as long as they run short bursts every half hour, Sam normally lets them head down to the beach once these things are over to let off some steam."
"You didn't want to go?"
"I'm fine where I am."
"I bet they loved that." A yawn escapes as she sits herself up properly and looks at him over her shoulder. "You know you can go, if you want."
"Only if you come with me," he says seriously.
"No fear," she scoffs, pushing her hair back. "You're a big boy. I'm sure you can handle it. I think I'll go home and get some more shut-eye. My sleeping's been all out of whack lately."
Jacob frowns. "For how long?"
"Since . . . Weeks, I guess," she mumbles dismissively, untangling herself from his hold and swinging a leg over the bench, bracing herself to stand, but he catches her arm and she pauses.
"How long?" he asks again. He hasn't exactly been sleeping great, either, but he'd simply put it down to being out of sorts these past few weeks. Perhaps it was a fool's hope to think the imprint wouldn't be affecting her that much that she'd be struggling, too.
"Since the funeral," she says in the same mumble. She turns away so that he can't see her face. "Or when you . . . I don't really know. It's lots of things. I'm dealing."
"Leah," he protests.
"What?"
"Tell me."
The sound she makes at him is short, fractured. Frustrated. And he knows that she is lying when she says, "There's nothing to tell, Jake, honestly."
"Leah."
At the Look he sends her, she finally sighs, relenting. "I guess I've been . . . struggling," she says after a painful silence, her voice distorting around the word because it makes her unhappy to admit such things.
"Since . . . ?"
A shrug. "Maybe since the day you told me why . . . You know, that day in the kitchen." Her face twists again and he thinks she might be embarrassed still — that he saw that part of her. He'll never forget it for as long as he lives. "But then you stayed with me, and it seemed to get worse after that night that I slept in your bed, and . . . It's pathetic, really. I'd bet it's not even that."
"Not what?"
Leah sighs again and tucks her hair behind an ear. "I'm perfectly able to sleep alone, Jacob," she says, using her extremely familiar sniffy tone. It is an answer and yet not. "Whatever it is — because it's not that — it's not your problem, okay?"
"Okay," he replies, and she raises a perfect eyebrow at him. Likely at how amenable he sounds. "I'll make you a deal. Come with me — to the beach. I need to talk to Sam anyway. And then we'll go straight home. Alright?"
Her heartbeat stutters in the quiet. It almost makes him smirk. "We?"
"Yes. We."
She takes a moment before replying, swallowing thickly and struggling to straighten her features out. "Your place or mine?" she drawls, deadpan, but she's not convincing. She still wouldn't be even if her heart wasn't giving her away.
"Yours," he replies seriously like he's missed the joke entirely. Which he has. Purposefully. But she hasn't called him out on it. Yet.
"Wow. I mean, take me out to dinner or something first."
"What do you want? Pizza?" he asks, and she rolls her eyes with great exaggeration. "Come on. You're not the only one not sleeping, okay? And as comfortable as I am on this bench, I don't like getting mosquito bites all that much."
"Jake — you can't just start sleeping over. I mean, that's — we're not even — we haven't even—"
"It's just sleeping," he says, boldly attempting nonchalance. He's glad that she can't hear his heart beating. "We already knew there are effects from the imprint. What's one more?"
"But it might not even be—"
"So if it's not then it's just for the night, right? No big deal. Draw a line down the bed if you want, y'know, you stay on your side and I'll stay on mine. I'm not sleeping on the floor."
She looks torn between frustration and laughter. "Right," she says, looking dubiously down at the hands that have once again locked themselves tight around her waist. Huh. He wonders when that happened. "Because you're really going to be able to keep your hands to yourself."
Jacob very deliberately unwinds his arms and crosses them over his chest. "Who says?"
"You're ridiculous," she says, but she laughs at least and he grins back at her, entirely impudent. "Fine. Fine, one night. But if it doesn't work then you're out on your ass."
"And if it does work?"
He earns a smile that almost seems affectionate — hopelessly so, as if she cannot help herself. It has happiness bursting out uncontrollably within his chest. "Then we're both screwed, aren't we? I'll have to invest in a load of hot water bottles, or something, and you'll have to start cuddling up to a pillow."
"So there's going to be cuddling?"
"Ridiculous," she repeats, though she's struggling not to laugh at him again too. "You're absolutely ridiculous. And shameless."
"You didn't say no," he points out, still grinning.
"Incorrigible. Cocky."
"Still not a no," he teases.
"Brazen," she harrumphs.
"So do we have a deal?"
"Get your ass up," is all she says. "Let's go to the beach."
Leah gets to her feet and begins to saunter off. It's only when she stops to half-turn back towards him, her eyebrows raised and her hand outstretched expectantly, that Jacob finds his brain and hauls himself up after her. It'd be pointless to pretend that he wasn't staring at her hips like the gormless idiot he has very clearly turned into.
"Your face looks better," she comments when he finally entwines his fingers with hers and they start moving in tandem again.
"That's because it's dark," he says, and she barks a laugh.
"Why'd you need to talk to Sam, anyway?" And then, voice softening, she adds, "Are you still set on quitting?"
"Mm. Yeah, I am," he promises, hands swinging. "But I kind of broke a few rules the other day, confronting the bloodsucker, and I haven't spoken to Sam about it yet. I probably should — you know, just in case it comes back to bite him on the ass or something."
"Can wolves be turned into vampires?" she asks. Her tone is just shy of being a little too wishful about that possibility, and though he shakes his head at her he can't exactly help but smile at her either.
"Their venom is poison to us, honey," he tells her, fighting laughter when her eyes widen and she looks up at him with blatant optimism. "We'd die."
"Oh. Well I hope Edward bites Sam, then," she says, her own smile cute and innocent, and he gives in to his laughter.
It's a short walk to First Beach from the recreation fields. Jacob keeps closeby as they cross the parking lot and scale the dunes together, and when they reach the peak they find the guys playing two-a-side soccer. Embry and Seth are lounging around on the side-lines.
Leah looks thoughtfully down at the pack, though whatever tension that had been building in her shoulders disappears and her grip on his hand loosens. It leaves him wondering for a moment if she had been expecting Emily and Kim to be here, too — though she probably doesn't realise that Kim is fifteen and has a curfew, and she likely doesn't know that, these days, her most-hated cousin prefers to be cooped up in a house as opposed to being in open spaces. Emily doesn't even like going to the store anymore, not since the day she was released from hospital after the 'bear attack'.
Seth waves at them. Leah smiles back at her brother for a few seconds, and then she pokes her tongue out at Embry.
From where he is sprawled out on the sand, he simply flips her the bird.
She snorts, shaking her head, and then asks quietly, "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Best not." He kisses the top of her hair, unable to help himself. "Go sit with your brother for a bit. I won't be long."
She pouts and drops her shoulders, utterly adorable in spite of knowing exactly what she is doing. He sees right through her facade. "Seth I like. But I hate Embry."
"Don't tell him that," Jacob murmurs, trying not to look at his brother and laugh. "I think he might be a little bit in love with you."
"Can you blame him?"
"Be nice to him. He did me a solid earlier; I wouldn't have been able to sit through that bonfire with everyone looking at you otherwise."
"I could have sworn that was down to me," she says, eyes dancing in the light reflected off the water from the moon high above.
"Maybe a little," Jacob concedes, leaning down so their noses are almost bumping. He savours the sound of her breath catching in her throat. "I guess you'll have to do it again next time, then I'll be able to tell for sure."
His eyes flicker down, catching the slight lick of her lips, and he grins as he pulls away.
The look she gives him is near murderous. "You did that on purpose."
"Didn't do anything," he says. "Go on, Embry's waiting. You want me to walk over with you?"
Leah bestows him her infamous eye roll, although it seems a little forced, and he pretends as if he does not notice her fingers curling against his. Like she wants him to go with her. Or she wants to go with him instead.
But then, with a sigh as if she is about to do the world a service at great cost to herself, she says, "No. Go on. You run and have your little tiff with Sam, and in the meantime I'll try to let Embry down gently. He'll be distraught. I'm afraid you might have to pick up the pieces."
"Nah. That's Quil's job."
Jacob grins, kissing her hair again, then her brow, and he has to pull away before his lips travel any lower — of their own volition, this time — except her body seems to follow his. She stretches up on her toes, leaning forward as he leans back.
One day, he thinks, Leah Clearwater is going to be the death of him.
She knows exactly what she's doing, too. Her lips curve wickedly, and it is his turn for his breathing to go haywire as she pointedly drags her eyes down to his mouth and up again, her breath washing over his face—
She retreats.
"You deserved that. You're not the only one who can play that game," she taunts in a sing-song.
Alright. Maybe he did deserve that.
Leah grants him one last smile, entirely knowing as she turns away from him, but he is faster. His hands dart out, reaching for her before he can really think about what he's doing, and he pulls her in close by her hips, capturing her lips with his.
Finally.
Somewhere, down on the beach, someone whoops and applauds.
Jacob doesn't care. Not when the sound that comes from the back of Leah's throat sounds amused, and, dare he think it . . . pleased. And when she stretches upwards to meet him further, her fingers twisting through his hair and pulling him down, all he can think about is that he might die from this — from her. That he wouldn't care if he did.
The death of him.
She's going to be the death of him.
Her lips are soft and warm, inviting, and Jacob slants his mouth over hers to deepen the kiss, eagerly seeking entrance . . . but she pulls away, her quiet laugh breathless, her eyes alive and sparkling with something he's never been permitted to see before.
"Again," he says, his voice not quite a growl but not quite a whisper either — more a rasp, quietly demanding more than the whisper of a kiss they've just shared. And indeed, his fingers dig into her waist as his mouth chases hers. More, more, more. He doesn't even care that the whole pack might be — are most likely watching. He'd put another bet on it.
Leah taps his nose and Jacob blinks, but otherwise his focus is still on her lips. "Come back and tell me you've behaved yourself," she says, easing herself out of his hold, "and I'll think about it."
He is torn between the desire to both whine like a wounded animal and laugh. "That sounds like a bribe."
"That's because it is," she tells him sweetly, stepping away from him. And when he moves to follow — again, because how can he not? — Leah puts a hand against his chest and makes a show of pushing him back. Not that he is able to feel her strength.
She shakes her head, cheeks discernibly pink even in the moonlight. "Uh-uh. You said so yourself — you've got to go and speak to him."
"I've changed my mind. It can wait."
"Alright," she says with another tiny shrug, all-too agreeable, "then I'll go home. By myself."
He is sure he's pouting like a child, but he doesn't care. "You fight dirty."
"Never said I didn't," she says.
She beams at him, effervescent, and dances away.
And Embry, the bastard, high fives her when she sits down. As if Jacob doesn't know that he was the one who cheered.
He takes one last look at her, at her still flushed but smiling face, and braces himself to interrupt the game.
Sam darts between Jared and Quil, passing to Paul, but Jacob has learned his Alpha's tiny tells enough to know that Sam has been waiting for him. That he was watching, just as he has been watching all night, and that he likely wanted to kill him for it. That he likely still wants to kill him.
Jacob ignores the natural inclination to welcome such a challenge, and squares his shoulders.
"Five minutes?" he asks.
Sam's lips press into one long, thin line, and the nod he gives is one short, sharp jerk of the head. But he doesn't look surprised.
He pauses the game with authoritative ease and turns to where Leah is sitting with Embry and Seth on the side-lines. It's instinct for Jacob to tense as Sam looks at his imprint. But Leah lifts her chin and stares right back at him, her eyes blazing and locked on Sam for the first time that night. Defiant. Beautiful. And if Jacob were feeling a slight more charitable, he might have understood how Sam could still be in love with her just for that — for the way she holds herself.
As it happens, Jake's feeling nothing of the sort. Sam Uley can go to hell.
Seemingly unaware of the general feeling around him, Sam waves a casual hand, beckoning, and calls out, "Seth, you wanna play?"
The kid leaps to his feet and bounds over with the preternatural speed that Jacob knows still throws Leah off-kilter but has become second-nature to the rest of them.
"Hey, man."
"Cover me for a minute, would you? And watch out for Quil," Sam says, raising his voice pointedly enough to draw his pack's attention. "He cheats."
In the middle of showing-off with a couple of kick-ups, Quil hollers back, "Sore losers, the lot of you!"
"Sure." Seth grins before throwing himself into the game, simply glad to be included.
Sam wastes no time in jerking his chin towards the quiet end of the beach, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts, and Jacob wonders if the guy has them balled into fists to stop himself from ripping his head off for the display on the dunes, but still he follows.
He has to behave himself; he's been bribed, after all, and that's not something he intends to dismiss, but he knows they are being watched — he can feel Leah's gaze on his back as sharply as he can feel Embry's, who is likely readying himself to jump between them at short notice should things start looking like they're about to go very, very wrong.
Jacob has never deserved Embry's loyalty, not even when they were kids.
Sam walks until there's no chance of them being overheard, until the silence is stretched so taut between them that Jake thinks Embry's not going to be able to make it in time should Sam decide to throw the first punch. Not even if he phases for the extra burst of speed.
Sam stops. Jacob waits.
And waits.
And then—
"How are you, Jacob?"
He can't help it. He laughs. "Really?"
Sam shrugs. "I can't ask?"
"You can. But I know you don't give a shit."
"That's not true," he says. And if Jacob had blinked, he would have missed the slightest of bristling from his Alpha. "I still care."
He crosses his arms if only to stop his fists from flying. "Really."
"You're still pack. Even if you don't want to be. Not much can change that," Sam replies. Jacob can't decide whether he sounds disappointed by it or not. "It'd be like trying to break an imprint."
He doesn't answer that. Doesn't have the words.
Sam sighs and looks out at the ocean. "I haven't told the Council." The jerk has the audacity to say it like he's doing him a favour. "I haven't replaced you, either."
"You should probably get on that, then."
"Should I?" Sam murmurs absently, still watching the water. "I don't know. I don't think so." He looks at back again, their faces level save for the tiniest of differences in their heights. There will always be a difference, will always be one who was supposed to be the Alpha and the other who was not. "Did you really want to quit?"
"What part of me saying so did you not believe? I meant what I said, Sam."
"Yeah," he breathes. "You're kind of like her that way."
Jacob drags air in through his nose. In, out. In, out. And then, tightly, he says, "Is there a point to this? 'Cause I just came to tell you about the bloodsucker, I don't really want to go into—"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. No. I know about that. Jared ran me through it all." Sam shakes his head, looking abruptly tired within the darkness — but Jacob's eyes can see everything. "S'not much that can be done about it now."
". . . Where's all this leniency coming from all of a sudden?"
"I think Edward would have demanded parley at the treaty line by now if he was that pissed," Sam says with a second shrug. "Besides, you were right. Just wish you hadn't cornered him like that, is all. The Cullens already know the terms."
It is Jacob's turn to shove his hands deep into his pockets. "Right, well. If that's all—"
"It's not."
Jacob chooses to focus on his breathing rather than replying.
"Look," Sam says, turning away from the water and looking every inch the Alpha he should be as his face turns hard and he straightens his spine. "Neither of us . . . Things got out of hand the other day. I was angry about . . . a lot of things, really, and I was already at boiling point but I recognise that I kind of . . . lost my head, should we say, when you told me you were done." He snorts softly to himself. "Would you laugh if I told you I half-hoped that you had decided you were finally going to be taking over?"
What do you want to do? Sam had asked him.
The pack's yours, he'd replied. He hasn't really considered that Sam wanted him to say anything different.
"But then you handed back authority," Sam continues. "Authority that you hardly realised you'd taken in the first place. I've had a real headache getting everyone back into shape." He frowns unhappily, angrily. "And things still don't feel right."
"What do you want me to do?" Sam is not the only one who is tired. Tired of this. "Put it in writing? I really don't want the job."
"I know," he sighs. "Must be nice having such control over your own destiny."
"Some of it, at least," Jacob says. But not regretfully — never regretfully. He will never regret Leah.
"But you only joined the pack a couple months ago," Sam ploughs on as if he's not heard anything. "And I don't think you're not ready to quit. Not yet. Not even you have that kind of control."
"Says who?"
"Me," he says, and he blows yet another lungful of air. "I'm not saying that you can't do it, Jake. But whether you want to be Alpha or not — whether you want to be with us or not — we need you. You've got responsibilities. We all have. They don't just stop because you've imprinted. You think I want to be out patrolling all hours? That Jared does? Personally I'd rather be at home with Emily. I could get a job, find one of those lives she's always telling me to get . . ."
Sam shakes his head as if ridding himself of that thought before he can get lost in fantasy, inhaling deeply. "We need you," he says again, standing tall. "I'm not happy about it. But I can't do anything about that, either."
It's hard for Jacob to keep his tone neutral, but he manages to find enough decorum to say, "You can. You could just accept my resignation. Be decent about it."
Sam just smiles sadly, pitying him. "I can't do it. I can't let you. Not yet."
In spite of his attempt to not bristle underneath that expression, Jacob demands, "Why not?"
"You know why. The redhead hasn't come back — yet — but the Cullens have, and it's only a matter of time. They've settled back in; they're hunting again, retracing their old routes — the treaty line is more potent now," Sam explains, though it sounds more like he's musing to himself aloud, "and I reckon they're going to turn Bella any day. Maybe after her graduation, at the latest. Probably. Makes the most sense."
"Not that you've been thinking about it, or anything," Jacob responds drily, unable to keep the dripping sarcasm out of his tone.
Sam is unfazed. "Someone has to."
Maybe Embry should have pounded the life out of him a little more, Jacob thinks, because he's about ten breaths away from phasing and he's going to rip Sam's face off when he does, he's going to ruin him—
"Come back for now," Sam says. "Then once this stuff with the red-head dies down — whenever the Cullens leave, you can too. It won't be long now."
"I really don't—"
"Just think about it," Sam interrupts, raising a placating hand. "Alright?"
He takes the silence as the answer he wants. The answer that he needs.
"Good," he says, hands diving back in his pockets. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. You can take over from me at six."
"What happened to thinking about it?"
"I'm running with Paul," Sam says. "You can take Embry — give Seth some time off. And you're still Second, of course. I'll iron things out with Jared and he and Quil can relieve you about three."
"Sam. I'll think about it, alright? That's all."
His Alpha nods. "Sure. See you at six."
Asshole.
"Don't be late," Sam adds.
It takes every single ounce of the control Jacob has worked so tirelessly on these past few months to turn his back and walk away.
To walk, and not phase.
Asshole.
A/N: [posts update and runs away]
P.S. The Black, Clearwater, Ateara and Uley family trees can be found in the Official Illustrated Guide. I *think* I have worked out the relationships correctly, but if you do spot any errors then please let me know.