Absolution

by WastelandRose

"You say he'll be whatever I want, but that assumes I want him at all. I don't. He scares me and makes me feel bad about myself, and I don't want him around. But you'll only stop him from stalking me if I hang out with him of my own free will. Because his comfort and sanity are more important than mine. Because he can kill vampires and I can't. Is that about it?"

4. The Shark's Smile

Chapter 4 – The Shark's Smile

After realizing that his imprint was… possessed (for lack of a better word) by her dead grandfather, Paul's immediate reaction was to blurt, "Don't hurt her."

With glowing white eyes staring unblinkingly out of Ruby's face, Reuben Kayad gave a grating laugh and gulped another mouthful of bourbon into his granddaughter's belly. "That's rich coming from you, boy," he replied, his deep masculine voice a stark and unsettling contrast to the petite female body from which it emerged. He leaned forward a bit and smiled a smile that showed far too many teeth. Then, as though sharing a secret, the visiting spirit whispered, "If I'd been alive when it happened, you wouldn't have lived long past the first time she came home from school crying about your retarded attempts at courtship. Putting her in the hospital, now that would've earned you a fate far, far worse."

Recently, Paul had grown quite used to the pain of guilt squeezing around his heart and churning in his stomach. "I was an idiot," he admitted, taking a chance by taking a few more steps into the room. When no more bullets flew his way, the shifter pulled out a chair and sat down across from… Well, he didn't really know what to call the ghost of Reuben in the body of Ruby. Maybe just Reuben would be easiest. "If she'll let me, I'll spend every day of the rest of my life making it up to her."

"Mhmm," Reuben hummed, spinning his glass and gun in opposite directions but thankfully not picking up either from the tabletop. "Considering you have a choice between that and a life without pussy, you'll have to forgive this old man for failing to be impressed by your profound personal resolve and strength of character and heartwarming penance and blah blah fucking blah." Another cruel laugh. "Cut the bullshit, puppy. I ain't here to listen to your lovesick yammering."

"Why are you here?" Sam asked as he strode confidently but stoically through the doorway and came to stand beside Paul.

Amusement waning, Reuben sighed and slugged back what was left in his glass and poured himself another overly generous helping. As he swirled the amber liquid, the spirit declared, "My sweet little granddaughter was gonna let herself die just to spite you and every high-handed ancestor involved in this mess. I couldn't really blame her but wasn't about to let that happen. Thankfully, from a certain perspective at least, she's had one foot in the grave for years. Always a bad day away from cashing in her chips, if you get my meaning. For me, that made crossing over… not as difficult as it should've been." He gestured to the scratches and bruises on Ruby's body and added, "Made the ancestors' attempts at guilting or scaring her back into your arms a bit too potent as well, so… bit of a mixed bag, really."

When he looked back on the event, Paul was never sure how he kept himself from vomiting or crying. The love of his life had chosen death over him. Because of his relentless torture, his reason for living had spent much of her adolescence in a state of suicidal depression.

"How can we help her?" Sam demanded, as if sensing that Paul was going to be useless for quite a few minutes as he tried to absorb the shocking and devastating information.

Despite his earlier impatience to say his piece and return to his eternal rest, Reuben apparently couldn't resist twisting the knife. "She used to wake up every morning and seriously consider whether killing herself was better than going to school and facing whatever torment you and the rest of the local morons decided to inflict," he murmured, staring intensely right at Paul. "The only reason she didn't off herself was that she was so tired and so sad that even putting together and following through on an effective suicide plot was too much effort. When you attacked her, she thought you were gonna kill her. And she didn't care. She was relieved. Death by bully seemed like a convenient alternative to crippling hopelessness and daily torture. You proud of yourself, boy?"

Paul shook his head. He wanted to hug Ruby and never let her go. If her gun-toting grandfather hadn't been possessing her, the shifter probably would've leapt across the table and trapped her in his arms and apologized and begged until his voice gave out.

"Paul knows what he did," Sam defended, slipping awfully close to alpha voice as he scolded the spirit and placed a supportive hand on the other wolf's shaking shoulder. "I've seen in his mind that he's sincerely remorseful and never going to make the same mistakes again. All we can do now is try to move forward, so how can we help Ruby?"

Adopting a frankly rather ridiculous pout, Reuben muttered, "You're damn lucky that I'm eager to get back to being dead." He reached into Ruby's hip pocket and produced a small digital camera, which he set on the table. "Currently, there's not a chance in hell she'll listen to a single one of you, and that includes elders, imprints, and anyone else attached to this mess," the old man reported. "However, she might listen to me." Gesturing at the camera, he added, "I recorded a little something. Make sure she watches it. And don't lose further trust by letting anyone else watch it first. Other than that…" He shrugged. "No clue. She's not likely to actively try to kill herself, and after this experience, she probably won't try to run again either. At least not too far. The rest is your fucking problem."

Paul gaped at the old man and struggled to resist the urge to growl. "That's it?" the shifter demanded. "You came back from the dead to tell us that it's our problem?"

Slowly raising a very much unimpressed eyebrow, Reuben drawled, "No… Actually, I came back to pilot Ruby's skinny little rump back into range of you so that the rest of the ancestors would stop punishing her for having the good sense to run like hell away from even the possibility of an obsessive and unhealthy relationship with an emotionally stunted thug who has no prospects and the dangerous habit of exploding into a wild animal whenever he's even mildly peeved. The fact that you also benefit from my benevolent intervention was one of the few arguments I had against getting involved at all."

Wilting, Paul murmured, "Oh." Being angry was so much easier than feeling like shit and knowing that he deserved to feel like shit.

Reuben sighed theatrically and then took another healthy swig of bourbon. "Just because she's stuck with you doesn't mean she's gonna fall into your arms," he pointed out. "You get that, right? She doesn't owe you a damn thing, and she certainly won't cut you one measly inch of slack."

Paul nodded miserably. For the time being, his only goal was to keep Ruby safe. Eventually, he'd maybe earn the privilege of having her not hate him. Anything else seemed like a pipe dream.

Although they lacked any features that would make the gesture obvious, Reuben clearly rolled his eerie white eyes and gave another sigh. "Listen, dumbass," he drawled, "You ever heard of show, don't tell?"

The only association that sprang to Paul's mind was show-and-tell; however, because he didn't see how elementary-school assignments were relevant, the shifter shook his head.

"You can tell her over and over and over that it'll never happen again, that you're sorry, that you love her," Reuben mocked. "You can talk 'til you're blue in the face. Ruby won't give a damn. Words are cheap and only as trustworthy as the person spewing 'em. But if you show her that you've changed for the better… well, she might someday do more than tolerate but ignore your continued existence. All she's seen so far is that the elders cover up your crimes and cruelty and hand out minimal consequences, if any. Doesn't exactly scream remorse, let alone character development."

It was… surprisingly good advice. Especially from a man who clearly did not approve of Paul's continued existence or believe in Paul's remorse or character development.

Apparently having said all he intended to, Reuben slid the gun across the table and remarked, "Give that a good clean and then put it back in the safe in the master bedroom, champ. It's probably best that Ruby doesn't know Miri keeps one in the house." He glanced up at Sam before smirking and adding, "For shits and giggles, you might want to ask Miri about Ruby's daddy." Then, for the first time during the entire conversation, the old man blinked.

When Ruby's eyelids opened, they revealed Ruby's beautiful normal eyes, which were bloodshot and bleary and flickered back and forth once in confusion before rolling up in her head.

Paul dove forward just in time to keep her from cracking her skull against the floor as she fell out of her chair and started convulsing.

xxXxx

Passing out in California and waking up in the Quileute tribal clinic was… unsettling. Disorienting. Ruby felt like crap, not quite as bad as when Paul beat her up but not too far off—although not in the same way. Rather than the visceral ache of a concussion and broken bones and more bruises than an overripe peach that had been dropped repeatedly onto a hard surface, she seemed to be suffering the aftereffects of some kind of debilitating illness or maybe even a severe migraine. The dim overhead lights seared through her eyelids and retinas and clawed and burrowed inside her brain and threatened to yank her meager stomach contents out through whichever orifice yielded first. Despite waking under a mound of blankets, her weary body shivered with cold—a deep, pervasive, never-going-to-get-warm chill that she would've expected as a symptom of hypothermia or the flu. She could move but only with great effort, which caused her to feel a strange disconnect from her physical form. Ruby might as well have been operating a marionette of herself—watching from elsewhere while her carcass flopped around on tangled strings.

Everything was too bright and too loud and just too fucking much. She was raw. She was exposed. The urge to cry and cry and just fucking cry paralyzed her.

Someone said something in a calm, quiet, comforting voice and then gently touched her hand.

Ruby recoiled violently and curled into a tiny ball and screamed and screamed and could not force herself to stop screaming. Nothing seemed to register—except overwhelming pain and panic and crippling paranoia.

She screamed.

She screamed.

She screamed.

An undetermined and seemingly endless stretch of time later, an artificial calm smothered her senses. She was barely aware enough to realize that she'd likely been drugged back into blissful unconsciousness.

xxXxx

When Ruby started screaming, shrieking inconsolably like she was being murdered, Sam had to alpha order Paul to keep the distraught shifter from running straight to her bedside. Even if she wasn't being hurt, she was clearly terrified. Listening to her scream and being unable to do anything to help, protect, or comfort her was agony.

Of course, Sam reminded him, "Miriam told us to stay outside until she says otherwise."

The elders and Sam had intercepted the woman on her way into the clinic, which had called her to report that Ruby was being treated for a seizure as well as several minor but troubling physical injuries, exhaustion, and alcohol poisoning. (Apparently, the bottle that Reuben had been drinking from in the kitchen had been his second of the day.) Although beyond furious to find out that Ruby was bound to "the worthless pile of shit who made her life hell," Miriam had at least believed them (after only a brief demonstration of werewolves are real) and subsequently resisted her initial instinct to call the cops on them for an array of rather serious infractions.

However, she had stipulated that until further notice, she didn't want to see anyone but the doctor anywhere near Ruby.

Ruby's hysterical screams went on for one of the longest twenty-minute stretches of Paul's life but ultimately stopped very shortly after Dr. Olayo issued the order to sedate the poor girl. Thankfully, Dr. Olayo was an elder and knew the truth, so they'd been able to give him a full rather than abridged version of events. Although he was semiretired and only worked at the clinic a few days a month, dragging him away from his favorite fishing spot had been far preferable to answering questions and dealing with leeches at Forks General.

Dr. Olayo hadn't been pleased with them or the situation but had agreed not to refer the case to social services and the nearest mental-health facility and the police, which otherwise would have been his first steps for an underage patient who was suicidal and beyond physically exhausted and abusing alcohol and covered in injuries that clearly came from a vicious attack.

Once assured that his imprint was resting comfortably, Paul returned to pacing just beyond the nearby tree line. He hadn't left and didn't plan to until Ruby was released. He was vaguely hopeful that she might acknowledge or even talk to him… but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Mostly, the teen shifter thought about Reuben's show, don't tell advice. Paul wanted—needed—to show his girl that he was a changed man, that he'd never hurt or belittle her or allow anyone else to do so ever again.

However, he had no idea how to accomplish any such feat. Plus, he needed to pull it off while also making sure that Ruby didn't slip back into suicidal depression. The knowledge that she'd rather be dead than with him felt like a dagger permanently wedged between his ribs. Regardless of whether she'd ever let him be more than a glorified stalker, Paul would do his best to keep her safe and happy… but that didn't mean he would be happy to spend the rest of his life as a glorified stalker. He wanted more. A lot more. Everything. And he'd do just about anything to earn it.

But the fact remained that even his best efforts might not be enough.

Forgiveness was entirely hers to give, not his to demand.

Reclined on a fallen log, clearly sticking around solely to prevent Paul from doing anything drastic or stupid, Sam insisted, "You'll get through this. Both of you."

Paul resisted the urge to snarl at his alpha's asinine optimism. At one point, maybe Paul would've bought into his trust the spirits bullshit. However, recent events had proved that the spirits were incompetent morons who didn't know what the hell they were doing. Although Reuben hadn't explained much, he'd clearly stated that the scratches and bruises covering Ruby were the result of whatever the spirits had done to convince her to return, which hadn't even worked and had instead pushed her to choose death over living as Paul's imprint.

Even letting her go and never seeing her again probably wouldn't have been as painful as that realization.

He might have been harping on it. Just a bit. It was kind of a big deal.

Paul stayed all night and well into the next day. As soon as the rain started up again, Sam finally abandoned his babysitting duties; however, the alpha came back to perform regular check-ins and deliver generous baskets of food from Emily. Jared stopped by a few times but didn't seem to know what to say and didn't stay long.

Early in the evening, the rain had stopped, for the moment. Paul was just beginning to consider whether he could pester an update out of Sue Clearwater, who worked as a nurse at the clinic and had helped treat Emily during her accident. He'd seen Sue arrive that morning, and she was definitely sympathetic to the wolfy cause. Heck, Sam had dumped the woman's daughter like a sack of steaming garbage, and Sue still routinely invited him to dinner. (He didn't ever attend, of course; Leah probably would've poisoned or stabbed him.)

The sound of an incoming motor interrupted Paul's internal ramblings, and he turned in time to see an ancient pickup truck pull into the clinic's small parking lot. After sliding into an available space, the truck stopped, and a tiny old woman jumped out. She was very petite, her surprisingly fit body decked out in clunky boots and skinny jeans and thick flannel. Long, straight hair draped over her shoulders and back like a cape, mostly white but dappled with black in an unusual pattern that reminded Paul of birch bark. Her dark russet face was only lightly wrinkled, and it was difficult to tell how many of the lines were from scowls rather than smiles. Her nimble leap from the vehicle had shown her to be quite spry. The expression that she wore threatened dire consequences for the focus of her obvious rage, which was apparently somewhere inside the clinic. She certainly wasted no time storming through the main entrance.

When Paul caught himself genuinely worrying about allowing an angry old woman in the vicinity of his traumatized and vulnerable imprint, he forced said ridiculous self to chill the fuck out. Actually, he wasn't particularly successful but did manage to bring his anxiety back to a manageable level and his mind back to the subject of how to show Ruby that he wasn't the man she thought he was. Reuben had called him an "emotionally stunted thug who has no prospects," and as much as Paul hated the assessment, he couldn't argue against it. Reuben had also pointed out that the elders covered for the worst of Paul's crimes and handed out bogus punishments that no one took seriously. The elders didn't want one of the mythical and revered spirit warriors distracted by actual penance, and all their concessions had been lip service to appease the Kayads and save Paul from prison and the tribe from legal trouble.

However, that left Paul with no real penalties and Ruby with no real justice.

Suddenly, the young man knew exactly what he needed to do.

However, following through on the thought had to be put off for another time.

A reverberating howl shattered the idyllic silence.

After walking a few steps farther into the trees, stripping hastily, and kicking a poor innocent pine, Paul phased and immediately demanded, This better be good.

Chief Swan's daughter is missing, Sam reported.

Who gives a shit? Paul replied. The brain-dead corpse-fucker wasn't his damn problem.

With a loud and somewhat grating mental scoff, the alpha answered, I do. The two most likely scenarios are that the Cullens slipped and bit her, fatally or sort-of-nonfatally to be determined, or left with her to bite her elsewhere. Either way, the treaty is probably broken, and we need to investigate to make sure.

I can't leave Ruby.

Paul-

No! Some crazy old woman just went inside-

Responding to the memory that flashed across their link, Jared declared, That's Mrs. Kayad. She hasn't left her cabin in ten years. Shit's really hit the fan if she's here. He knew her because he'd brought her remote home to the attention of the elders and been assured that no one was going to persuade Judith Kayad to rejoin society. Not even the very real danger of living alone in the middle of nowhere with leeches on the loose would be an adequate reason to abandon her isolated lifestyle. At the time, Old Quil had further argued, "I'd rather iron my cock than convince that miserable witch to live closer to me."

Paul froze, his mind rapidly making very unwanted connections. Can't be a coincidence, he muttered. Reuben must've sent her a message or something…

We'll figure it out later, Sam declared. He was already most of the way to Forks and approaching the point at which he'd need to shift and be seen as human by the worried search team. Ruby isn't in any danger from her grandmother. Mrs. Kayad is grouchy but harmless. He knew her by sight as well and made sure to patrol past her cabin at least twice a week, just to check that the old woman was still alive and uninjured and unmolested by any stray leeches.

Apparently, Paul was the only wolf who'd been unaware that they were supposed to be keeping an eye on a weird old hermit. He must've missed that part of the orientation…

Ruby is in good hands, Sam insisted. I need you on the search. Now.

Furious but unable to disregard a direct order for anything short of an actual imminent threat to his imprint, Paul snarled and started running toward Forks. With every step he took, his hatred for the Cullens and their worthless human whore grew like a wildfire.

xxXxx

Ruby barely had the chance to wake up and sit up before someone shoved her camera into her hands and pressed play on a short recording.

Her own face stared up from the tiny screen, eerie white eyes wide and unblinking and so very, very wrong. Her lips tilted into a smile that was… strangely familiar yet strangely not hers. The voice that emerged from her mouth was also definitely familiar but also definitely not hers. However, she instantly knew who both the smile and voice belonged to.

"Ru."

It wasn't possible.

"I need you to listen, little gem."

Nobody else ever called her that. Nobody else even knew that he used to call her that.

"No more of this, understand?"

How was this happening? Photoshop? Movie magic? Special effects? Disturbingly life-like computer-generated rendering? Who had that kind of budget for a mean prank?

"The person you're hurting most is yourself, and I don't stand for anybody hurting my girls."

Sometimes, Granny fondly reminisced about the time that Grandpa was arrested for shooting at a man who got fresh with her in a bar. Grandpa's brilliant argument of "If I'd wanted to hit him, I would've hit him" had miraculously swayed a jury of twelve morons.

"Miri's advice about how to deal with bullies was complete shit."

How would he even know that? He'd been dead at the time. No one other than her mom knew about that conversation. Her mom would never cooperate with any pranks, so did that mean he'd watched them from beyond the grave? Ugh, creepy.

"You don't ignore 'em. You march up to the biggest one and punch him in the throat."

Yes, violence was clearly the answer.

"While he's down, you kick him over and over until you're sure he'll stay down for a good long time. Permanently, if necessary. He and everyone else should remember for the rest of their pathetic lives that fucking with you is a bad idea."

Unfortunately, no one made proper ass-stomping shoes in her size, and correct footwear is a must for any and every occasion.

"Unfortunately, it's a bit late for that. You're stuck with the idiot. Sorry, little gem."

Such a ringing endorsement.

"The kid's hopefully gonna pull his head out of his ass, man up, and start showing that he's actually worth your time and attention."

Oh, the casual chauvinism. She didn't miss that at all.

"You don't have to do anything but be a bit open to the idea that he might someday maybe prove that he's not a total piece of shit. Do that for me, ok? I hate seeing you sad, and this situation is only gonna make you as miserable as you let it."

Sure, because that's how deeply ingrained physical and psychological traumas work. She could just turn them off and embrace the rainbows and lollipops of life as a glorified prisoner, concubine, and baby factory.

"You can choose to make the most of it. You can choose to be happy."

Her only choice at the moment was which direction to aim the barf.

"I love you, Ru, and if you die before you're ninety, I'm gonna beat your bony little rump."

The video ended, just cut to black.

Ruby had to watch it three more times before she could formulate a proper response, which was "What the fuck?" She looked up and saw that she was still in the tribal clinic and that her mom and grandmother were in the room with her. The girl performed a brief double take at that realization. Voice raspy and throat sore, she inquired, "Granny?"

"Reuben had a very convincing letter delivered to me," the proud old woman declared, a harsh frown on her weathered face. "COD, of course. The ass. And he helped himself to your credit card, but I'll take care of all the charges." She huffed and crossed her lean but muscular arms. "He explained everything to me. The idiot elders had to explain everything to your mama to keep her from calling the cops. Though I still think she should."

Snorting loudly, Ruby's mother countered, "If being away from the meathead is gonna affect Ruby, then we can't exactly have him locked up, can we?" With a low growl, she added, "Plus, how long do you think he'd last in prison before going wolf? It's a temper thing, y'know? He ain't exactly known for his ability to keep his shit together. If the wolves get exposed, it's only a matter of time before the government starts rounding up Quileutes to study and probably breed some super soldiers out of. Maybe outright eliminate us all. That shit'll make the Trail of Tears look like a trip to Disneyland."

The dystopian scenario was terrifying but not entirely farfetched. A small isolated tribe that had an actual superpower in its genes wouldn't last long in the face of government and military and underworld and even mainstream greed.

And the oh-so wise ancestors had trusted Paul Lahote with the preservation of the tribe's biggest secret as well as every member's safety by extension? Riiight… No more proof needed that being dead doesn't magically make a person any smarter than they were while they were alive, and the inverse relationship between intelligence and mob size also seems to be an immutable fact that transcends the physical realm.

Granny made a noise of vague agreement and then remarked, "Never mind that. Let's concentrate on more immediate concerns. Ruby, sweetheart, do you remember what happened to you?"

Confused and feeling as though she was lagging about three outrageous conclusions behind, the teen shook her head. "Tried to get away from him," she murmured, "Made me sick, and… there were bad dreams. I woke up all scratched. I was in California…" Her thoughts remained a bit disjointed, and her brain definitely wasn't yet firing on all cylinders.

"I'd ground you for leaving the state," Mom grumbled, flicking her inky hair away from her smooth face, "But I can't really blame you. This is some fucked-up nonsense."

Together, Ruby's mother and grandmother managed to explain the full series of events as they knew them, including the fact that Grandpa had outed Ruby for having suicidal thoughts.

As if possessing her and killing her liver and brain cells with at least two bottles of bourbon and helping himself to her credit card weren't bad enough, he just had to go that extra mile and completely betray her private emotions. Even the inside of her own head was no longer a safe space. Apparently, any ancestor could hop into her carcass and joyride the damn thing across state lines.

Lovely.

How the hell did he buy liquor? She didn't have a fake ID at her disposal or look anywhere near old enough to pass for twenty-one…

"Can someone get me my cell phone and laptop, please?" Ruby mumbled, determined to ignore all her problems, at least until she whittled her work backlog down to a more manageable level. "I need to start calling and emailing my clients." Some would get angry and demand refunds for late projects and shipments, but once she explained the situation as a minor hospitalization with a long bout of unconsciousness, the majority would probably be understanding. Her regular clients were mostly nice people, and they knew that she ran two separate business ventures all on her own. For her, a few sick days meant a complete shutdown of both. Fortunately, scrambling to make up the work would keep her busy and distracted from other concerns for at least a week.

Her mother and grandmother adopted matching expressions of bitch, please. Although Mom was tall and Granny was… not, they looked very much alike—except for the age differences, of course. Ruby shared the same general facial features, with a few small contributions from her unidentified father—maybe too many; sometimes, Mom seemed to have a hard time looking at her. Height also seemed to skip a generation.

"Your grandma is moving in with us," Mom announced, stern and obviously struggling not to show her disappointment and displeasure. She wasn't a fan of change or adding others, even family members, to her living situation. Plus, she didn't think very highly of people who were "weak enough" to fall prey to mental issues. As far as she was concerned, anything that couldn't be treated with antibiotics and gauze was a source of shame—something you just sucked up and shut up about if you had any dignity. (To be fair, Ruby had been doing exactly that before Grandpa stuck his ghostly nose in.) "And you'll be seeing Sue Clearwater three times a week until further notice. She's apparently a therapist as well as a nurse." Under her breath, Mom muttered, "Let's hope the chirpy bitch knows how to keep her mouth shut. And that she's better at fixing strangers' kids than she is at fixing her own."

Ruby sighed and sank back into her pillows. She didn't bother arguing. She never bothered arguing when winning was impossible.

With about the same level of empathy but mercifully less disdain, Granny added, "I'll be handling the elders. Those old farts have clearly gotten too big for their prissy little britches." Her scowl transitioned seamlessly into a vicious smile—the Shark's Smile. According to legend, it was the reason for their surname; long ago, someone had commented that like sharks, her family only smiled with sharp, bloody (or soon to be bloody) teeth and mean, merciless eyes. The moniker stuck. Over time, even Kayads by marriage seemed to develop the Shark's Smile. "I'll have a word with the boy, too," Granny added. "Hopefully, everything is just a matter of nobody ever learning him some damn manners. I can easily fix that."

xxXxx

Although he didn't feel much like celebrating and desperately wanted to get back to Ruby, Paul stopped in at the bonfires on the cliffs. How could he not do just a little something to commemorate the leeches' departure from Forks? Occasional nomads might still be an issue, but the pack would never again have to run themselves ragged because obnoxious rich monsters had extorted a one-sided treaty out of three confused and almost illiterate men several decades before all but a handful of living Quileutes were even born. Paul would never again have to stew in helpless fury over all the futures he couldn't have while selfish, oblivious, heartless corpses swished around in obscenely expensive designer clothes and threw away meal after perfectly good meal. Well, did so nearby—he wasn't naïve enough to think that their callous behavior would change with their move. He just wished that they'd taken Chief Swan's pasty special-ed brat with them.

By the time Paul returned to the clinic, Ruby had already been checked out—against medical advice, of course, but Dr. Olayo didn't have much leverage for keeping her there. Fortunately, the Kayads had promised that they would contact Billy in the morning and arrange a meeting with the pack and the elders.

Until Billy got said call, bright and annoyingly early, Paul had been almost certain that said promise was a ploy to stall for time while the three women figured out some way to break or flee the imprint—or possibly take their chances with offing the imprinter himself; it certainly wouldn't have been the first time Miriam tried to kill him. He was relieved to be wrong but still not particularly hopeful about the outcome of the upcoming summit.

When told that Judith Kayad had invited the pack and the main three elders over for dinner, Old Quil looked distinctly queasy. He and the old woman clearly had a history, but he refused to explain it.

Billy seemed to know the details but also wasn't sharing. However, he did make sure to smirk openly throughout the entire ride to the Kayads' house. Just that small dose of levity somewhat lightened everyone's otherwise tense moods.

Because Jared was staying back to patrol, the three elders plus two pack members all fit into Harry's pickup. Well, the elders fit in the cab, and the wolves fit in the bed, but neither Paul nor Sam minded. The fresh air was nice. And Paul didn't have to put up with Old Quil's hateful glares. The young shifter was free to think hard and put the finishing touches on his hopefully genius plan for making even a hint of progress with his rightfully stubborn mate.

"Something smells amazing," Harry commented as they parked and began exiting the vehicle.

(The amazing smell was roast pork, if Paul wasn't mistaken.)

"That's how she gets you," Old Quil grumbled, glancing all around as though he expected an imminent attack.

Billy was barely settled into his chair before Judith stuck her head out the front door and snapped, "Come around back." She then slammed and locked said door, clearly indicating that they were not welcome to walk through the small but well-maintained one-story house to reach their destination.

After a collective shrug, they complied with the demand, rounding the building and seeing that a large table and accompanying chairs had been arranged in the middle of the wide lawn, parallel to the rear of the building. Between the house and the table, some kind of A-frame pyramid… contraption was holding an entire butterflied pig splayed open and suspended at about a forty-five-degree angle over a roaring firepit. The source of the amazing smell was actually a rather gruesome sight, like a farm animal had been executed in a medieval torture device and then strung up and flame-broiled as a message to other porcine dissidents.

Or lupine dinner guests.

Damn thing even had an apple jammed in its mouth.

Paul wasn't sure that the disturbing visual was a warning to them as a group or to him specifically. Regardless, he resolved to tread lightly. At least until he saw his moment. Then, he'd go for broke.

"Sit already," Judith barked as she appeared behind them like a ninja, making everyone jump at her sudden presence. She flung a huge bowl of salad and accompanying jar of dressing (from the lack of label, likely homemade) onto the table. A stack of bowls and a handful of forks followed. The old woman then immediately turned and stomped back toward the house. As soon as she got inside, even the humans could hear her bellow, "Miri! Ruby! The idiots are here!"

"Well, this is going… exactly how I expected," Billy remarked, blithely wheeling himself up to the sole spot that did not have a chair, which was to the right of the head of the table.

The rest quickly chose their seats, leaving the head of the table and the two spaces to the left of it empty for the ladies. Sam sat to the right of Billy, and Old Quil sat to the right of Sam. Harry sat across from Old Quil. Paul ended up shoved all the way to the end, facing the head of the table. With Old Quil to his left and Harry to his right, Paul would be separated from Ruby by least one and possibly—probably—two people. He tried not to pout about it.

After about twenty minutes of awkward silence, they started on the salad; they did that very reluctantly, only because the smell of crisping pork skin and the sting of obvious disregard had made them too hungry and bored to resist. Together, they choked down most of the rabbit food—except Old Quil, who ate nothing. The wolves endured the worst of the ruffage, with a decent pile left for the ladies. The dressing was actually pretty good, with peanut and sesame and lime and ginger and chili and citrus; however, it would've been better as a dipping sauce for… basically anything other than vegetables. Eggrolls, maybe. Or pot stickers. Mmm…

A window slammed open. "IDIOTS!" Judith shouted, "TAKE THE HOG OFF THE FIRE!"

Paul and Sam hurried to do so, barely hesitating to inspect the odd configuration before determining that the pig was tied by its trotters to the four corners of a charred but sturdy wooden rectangle, which could be easily unhooked from and lifted off the A-frame that was straddling the flames. The wolves did so and then paused, wondering where they should actually set the crackling beast.

After a few moments of confusion, Billy gestured to the table and sighed, "Here, boys. If she wanted it somewhere else, she would've told you by now."

Because the pig was dripping fat and other lovely juices, Old Quil had to get up and move his chair out of the way as they passed. The animal's splayed legs were wider than the table, which was quickly drenched with the aforementioned drippings. After removing and setting aside the charred rectangle and flopping back into his seat, Paul was a little annoyed to realize that he was stuck staring down a pig's ass, but as long as he was allowed to actually partake of the easily forty-pound slab of meat—soon—he'd surely live.

Finally, the back door banged open, and the Kayads emerged—Judith first, then Miriam, then Ruby. The two older women wore fierce scowls, but Ruby appeared just as blank as always, her dark gaze on the ground and her dark hair hanging like a veil around her beautiful face, which still displayed exhaustion and healing scratches and bruises but thankfully wasn't as deathly pale as it had been during the entire seizure episode and frantic trip to the clinic.

With the obvious exception of Billy, all the men stood to welcome the ladies. Sam and Harry held out chairs for Miriam and Judith, respectively, Judith at the head of the table and Miriam next to Harry. The alpha and elder sent significant glances at Paul that he interpreted as trying to encourage him to hold out the last chair for Ruby, who was a few steps behind and apparently in no rush to reach the table and take the seat between her grandmother and mother.

Paul gladly would've held out her chair for her. However, at the moment, he had other plans. Slowly, trying not to scare her, he stepped into Ruby's path and then felt like shit when she startled and flinched away from him and then froze like a prey animal just waiting to be put out of its misery.

However, Paul would not be deterred and crashed to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry," he said, trying to meet her gaze, trying to convey utter sincerity and regret. "You said you didn't want any empty bullshit apology," he babbled, struggling not to trip over the words he'd been mentally compiling and rehearsing since the day before. "Ok, fine. When we were kids, I liked you, and picking on you was the easiest way to get your attention. It was the best part of my day to have you focused on me and nobody else. Then, you started ignoring me. There are few things I hate more than being ignored. All the crap I did after was just… just me being a total asshole because I really am emotionally stunted and didn't know how else to deal with the fact that I wanted your attention and you refused to give it. I'm sorry. If I could go back and kick my own ass, I would. I knew that I was hurting you, and I kept doing it anyway. I was stupid and selfish and cruel, and I'm sorry. If I wasn't such a worthless jackass, I would've stopped on my own, but I'm not, and I didn't, and I'm sorry. I'm especially sorry that you're stuck with me. You deserve far better. I'll do my best to be nice to you from now on, to make you happy and never hurt you and always protect you from everyone and everything else. I'm sorry that I haven't given you any reason to believe me and every reason not to believe me, but I swear I'll do better, starting with actually doing my community service anywhere you want me to and real anger-management classes and… other stuff, too. If you want. I didn't think of any more, but I'll keep trying. Please just give me a chance to prove that I can be better."

Despite the shocked and somewhat awkward silence, despite the humiliation of groveling and spilling his guts with so many people watching, Paul soldiered on. He dug into his pocket and produced a folded and wrinkled sheet of paper, which he deftly unfolded and did his best to unwrinkle before slowly and hesitantly offering it out. "I, uh," he stammered, heart falling and hand shaking when Ruby made no motion to accept, "I found a women's shelter and an old folks' home that'll take me starting in a few weeks. There's also a house-building thing and a charity race that're both next month. And Forks Elementary is looking for a crossing guard-"

The sound was so quiet that Paul almost missed it. For a long moment he stared at Ruby in shock.

She was still refusing to look at him, but… but she'd laughed. Well, snorted, really, but it was close enough that he thought it counted. Plus, she was sort of almost smirking… Then, with a very soft snicker, the girl wondered, "Granny, does that shit you gave me cause hallucinations?"

For a few seconds, Paul was just so happy to hear her voice that he almost didn't comprehend what she was actually saying. However, as soon as he did, he started to worry.

"No, sweetheart," Judith replied, suddenly reaching forward and stabbing a fork into the pig's face, yanking off a big hunk of cheek meat to slap onto her plate. "Just elevated mood. Oh, and lowered inhibitions. I thought that would be helpful for today."

Old Quil made everyone jump by slamming his fists down on the table. "You can't just go around drugging anyone you feel like!" he insisted with a venomous glare at his apparent nemesis. "Crazy witch-"

"The doctor said antidepressants would probably be good for her," Judith snarled, "But I'm not about to let my granddaughter put the white man's poison in her body! Especially when I can give her something that works better and doesn't come with a list of side effects as long as my arm! Hell, most of those garbage pills increase suicidal behavior, especially in teens!" She took and angrily chewed a bite of pork, barely waiting until her mouth was empty before adding, "Besides, don't act like you care! You're still just mad about-"

"We don't have enough chairs," Ruby mumbled. She'd finally picked her gaze up from the damp grass but seemed to be staring vacantly at… or rather past both her own empty intended spot and Billy and Sam, who were directly across from it. Looking puzzled and a bit dazed, the girl turned and walked back to the house—but not before she snatched the paper out of Paul's hand.

Although he received no other acknowledgement, Paul totally counted it as a win and took the opportunity to proudly stand, brush off his knees, and wait behind Ruby's seat so that he could hold it out for her when she returned.

Less than a minute later, she was back with two extra chairs, which she insistently wedged between Billy and Sam and then abandoned to return to the other side of the table and the other empty chair.

Except for Old Quil and Judith, the other diners were a bit bewildered by the behavior; if they were anything like Paul, they were probably questioning Judith's assurance regarding the lack of hallucinations. However, Ruby allowed herself to be seated without further issue, so no one said anything. Instead, everyone began helping themselves to the enormous roast animal in front of them.

Billy and Sam did their best to make awkward small talk with the table at large; before arriving, the men had decided that serious topics should wait until the meal was mostly finished. Although Dr. Olayo had done his best to preserve medical privacy, the wolves could hear through walls and even through entire buildings. Paul had heard the doctor explain to Miriam that her daughter was anemic and underweight, very likely working and stressing too much and eating and sleeping too little. Yeah, so, they weren't going to do anything that would put Ruby off her dinner, which she was picking at slowly and distractedly while frowning at the empty chairs.

Paul stress-ate the equivalent of two entire hams and then some and only stopped because Billy finally got around to politely ask-ordering Ruby to share her series of events.

She did so matter-of-factly, recounting her panicked spur-of-the-moment decision to just keep driving, the horrific nightmares that she had when exhaustion finally prompted her to stop for the night, another day of frantic driving and worsening chest pains, and a few rounds of painful vomiting. She explained blacking out somewhere in California and waking up back in La Push and just about losing her mind and all her composure as her senses were overwhelmed and rebelled in the form of a screaming fit.

When she trailed off, still staring dazedly at the empty chairs, Sam took over and briefly recounted Paul's day of agony and subsequent day of slow recovery. The alpha then explained their encounter with Reuben. At the end of the short monologue, Sam locked eyes with Miriam across the table.

"Before he… left," Sam ventured, "Reuben told me, specifically, that I should ask you who Ruby's father is."

Ruby's fork fell out of her hand and clattered onto the table. Expression unreadable, the girl slowly turned sideways, and her vacant gaze latched onto Miriam.

Huffing, the woman in question folded her slender arms and leaned back in her chair so hard that the damn thing creaked and almost broke. She gave Sam a nasty look and drawled, "Same father as every other bastard in La Push. You look an awful lot like him. Makes me want to scratch your fucking eyes out."

A collective incredulous pause stretched on for several moments longer than even remotely comfortable as everyone at the table deciphered the statement. Sam was the first to speak up, surprisingly calm as he summarized, "You're saying that Ruby is my half-sister."

"And Bingo was his name-o," Miriam quipped, mocking and condescending and just generally too bitchy for words. "But don't get too excited. Josh the man-whore has kids all over the county, though I think just three others on the rez. Embry Call, Terrence Steelhead, and Bryce Yarrow."

Fuck. Sam's dad sure did get around. Paul wondered who was going to break the news to Mr. Yarrow that his middle son wasn't his by blood…

"As far as I know," Miriam continued, not at all concerned about the huge bomb she'd just dropped, "Ruby is Josh's only daughter, so no other convenient puppy-factories running around. At least he finally did the whole world a favor and choked to death on his own vomit."

Paul seemed to be the only person who was paying more attention to Ruby than to Miriam, so he was the only person who noticed the girl's beautiful dark eyes fill with tears. (It made his heart hurt.)

"Mom," she croaked, almost begging, clearly almost shouting, Fuck's sake, what's wrong with you?!

Miriam's head snapped to the side, and the woman fixed her murderous, poisonous glare onto her own daughter. Spiking her napkin against her empty plate, Miriam stood without breaking eye contact. She snarled, "I told you that you were better off not knowing." Then, the crazy bitch whirled away and stomped back to the house, leaving dumbfounded devastation in her wake.

xxxxxxxxxx

I appreciate all the reviews. A lot of people have expressed strong feelings about whether or not Ruby should end up with Paul. TBH, I have a few endgames in mind but am undecided on that aspect. Any relationship they might develop is probably never going to be very healthy, but… that's kind of the point. Twilight is all about unhealthy relationships. Seriously. Look up "therapist watches Twilight" (or something like that; I don't remember exactly). You'll never watch/read the series the same way.

Edward is a controlling stalker. Jacob is an incel. Yeah, I said it. Fight me.

The imprinting thing is romanticized in the series and in fanfic, but there are some huge red flags that make it really problematic for anyone with healthy adult sensibilities.

Sam is pretty much forced (by undead spirits who amuse themselves with matchmaking from beyond the grave) to dump a girl he's been with for years and presumably still loves. He's also pretty much forced to pursue her cousin and is so obsessed that when Emily refuses his advances (like most sane people would in that situation), he loses his temper and almost rips her face off. After Emily is disfigured, probably on heavy painkillers and feeling the lowest self-esteem of her life, there he is to offer to love her unconditionally no matter what she looks like. It's not a healthy relationship, no matter how much Meyer tried to portray it that way.

Don't even get me started on the Quil–Claire nonsense. Raising a child with the expectation that she will someday want to have sex with you is disgusting. It's called grooming. It's something that pedophiles and abusers do.

And getting back to Jacob, it turns out that he wasn't really in love with Bella, just her ovary? Right or left? Was it a specific egg he was after for his future child-bride? Was that why he got increasingly erratic and obsessed as the prophesized ovulation drew closer? Did it even matter who the eventual father would be? If so, wouldn't Jacob have been in love with Edward's testicles, too? If not, why the hell was Jacob so obsessed with banging Bella? He wanted to father his own child-bride? But don't worry. She'll grow up super fast, so he'll only have like half the number of years to groom her.

I'm also calling BS on the idea that the imprinter will be whatever the imprintee needs. Maybe that's true in the short term, but the imprinting phenomenon predates modern sensibilities. Ancient peoples usually didn't have much of a problem with marrying off girls as soon as they menstruated, sometimes even before. And if a dude wanted to call dibs on a specific vagina, all he had to do was pay her parents for the privilege or just straight-up kidnap her. Asking for a girl's opinion on the matter wasn't even an afterthought, so I very highly doubt that any past spirit warrior would've settled for being permanently friend-zoned if the object of his obsession just wasn't into him.

Modern sensibilities likely make the current wolves a bit more patient with getting what they want, but they all seem to expect eventual true love and babies. Too much denial leads to stalking and violent temper tantrums and scaring off and intimidating other love interests. Refusing to be refused and wearing someone down from wanting nothing to do with you is not the same as securing actual consent. And in many stories, as in mine, the imprintee is physically, mentally, and emotionally affected by separation from the imprinter; that is literally abusing someone until they comply, otherwise known as manipulation and coercion.

Sorry for the long rant, but, yeah, if you're looking for the healthiest relationship outcome, you're probably in the wrong fandom and certainly in the wrong story. Part of my fascination with Twilight is just how fucked up everything is while still being draped with the guise of happily ever after. This isn't falling in love because of fate and magic; it's getting dealt a shitty hand because otherworldly forces want to micromanage your life and learning to deal with that and be somewhat happy.