Embry

The woods were always Embry's happy place. Not far from where they lived was a nature preserve, with fancy hiking trails and acres of secluded woods. He came here a lot, usually with Jacob. It helped to clear his head and get away from the reminders of their previous life, which could leave him so angry he wanted to make someone pay. He wasn't sure he'd ever go so far as to actually kill someone, but it was tempting to imagine the torture he would put a specific few through. He considered trying to find information on those people, but so far, he'd decided that it was best to just leave it alone. They were free, and they would never have to see any of that world again. And if anyone ever did come for them, he was ready.

So now, he stalked the woods, keeping clear of the paths, aiming his arrows at distant trees, imagining very different targets every time his arrow hit its mark. He had to admit, being here without Jacob's stream of conversation was peaceful. But he relied on his brother. Jacob was the voice of reason in his chaotic head. Somehow, Jacob had kept his light, even when the rest of them had their light snuffed out. Somehow, Jacob never lost the ability to smile or laugh, or find the humor in life, when Sam and Jared and Embry just couldn't see it. Jacob brought them all back, time and time again, even when life seemed so bleak that there was nothing out there for them but the pain of living their nightmares again and again. Embry didn't know how he did it. He thought back to the moment, weeks ago, when he'd lost his head, after Jared mentioned seeing someone he thought he recognized from before at a grocery store. Sam was preoccupied with Jared, and Embry had immediately gone to his room to retrieve his bow and arrows. He stalked through the streets to the grocery store, where he saw the person Jared described. He was ready to shoot, had the arrow knocked and the bowstring taught. He had his target in his sight, and it would be so easy to just let go. It was only Jacob refusing to get out of the way of his arrow, that stopped him. That, and the look on his brother's face. Jacob understood. He knew why Embry wanted to hunt down the people who hurt them. He knew why Sam broke his hand. He understood all of them. And he refused to let them lose who they were, over revenge. Embry shook his head. Why was it, he wondered, the youngest that were always teaching the oldest? Brady was their glue, and Jacob their light. And if those two had lost whatever aspect of themselves that made them good, then the whole group of them would have been lost.

He circled back to the parking lot where he'd left his bike, and stowed his bow and arrows in their case. His phone buzzed with a text from Jared, saying he was heading over to Esme's in a bit, and wondered if Embry wanted a ride.

Ten minutes or so later, he pulled up to the house. Jared was on the porch, and waited until Embry came back down from putting his stuff in his room, to get in the car. Embry locked up and went out to the car, noting that Jared sat in the passenger seat. Clearly, he wasn't in the mood to talk, then. Fine by Embry. He preferred silence, too. So, it was a surprise to him when Jared started to speak.

"I had a test done last week," he started.

"I know," Embry said. He didn't often rely on his own mouth to speak, but he could when he needed to. "I heard you and Sam talking about it. Loudly." He glanced over at Jared. "You know nothing's changed. You're still our brother. Even if you hadn't wanted to tell us."

"I wasn't worried about that," Jared said, frowning. "I wanted to tell you, but-"

"But you weren't sure how I'd react."

"Yeah. Of all of us, you're the most lethal, and I was worried you might do something drastic." Embry actually smiled at that.

"I considered it," he admitted. "I wanted to make them pay. I still do. But I want to find a punishment that fits the crime. And I haven't yet."

"Sam wants you to take Edward out shooting," Jared said, changing the subject.

"Really?"

"Yeah, apparently, he had talent before he got sick."

"Makes sense," Embry said. It took strength to pull back a bow string, and if a person got sick like Edward was, one of the things to go was strength. "I'll drop you off, and look into getting a bow for him." Embry pulled into the driveway. He waited for Jared to get inside, and then backed out and headed for a local sports equipment store that usually had what he wanted.

An hour and a bow and set of knives he couldn't say no to later, he was on his way back to the house, almost cheerful for the first time in a long time.

Edward

Edward wasn't sure whether he should be scared or not, going to an archery range with Embry. Jacob offered to come as a buffer, but Embry shook his head, saying that it would be better if there was quiet. Sam, Jacob and Emmett all trusted Embry, but Edward was intimidated by him, and a little afraid of the aura he gave off. He could be lethal, and it showed.

The archery range was a twenty minute drive from Esme's house, and Embry drove the whole way without once asking how Edward was doing, a question that, if he heard it again, would make him break something. Embry seemed to sense this, which Edward appreciated a lot. They walked in, and Embry swiped a badge at the door, before pushing it open and holding it for Edward. Inside was an archery range not too different from the ones that Edward was used to. Long lanes with targets at varying points along them gave archers options for what distance to shoot at. Embry put the bow together and handed it to Edward. He gestured toward the lanes, and Edward looked doubtful at them.

"Just do whichever you feel comfortable doing," he said. He strung his own bow, and waited for Edward to choose a target. Edward chose a target and pulled the bowstring back. He wasn't used to this pull, and the arrow he let loose almost missed the target completely. He shook his head and tried again, getting the feel for it now, and this time, his arrow hit just to the right of the bullseye. He shot another one, and this one was dead center. Embry watched, saying nothing. Edward shot another arrow, and then another and another. He went to another target, this one further away, and shot one true shot at a time. Anger started to grow inside him, and he couldn't hold it back, as hard as he tried. He shot one last arrow, and the bow snapped. He felt one of the arms scrape across his cheek. He let out a frustrated sound, and Embry was already looking at his face, firm fingers turning his face to see the scrape more clearly. From a pocket of his case, he produced first aid stuff, and he cleaned and bandaged the cut without fuss. "Tell me what you're mad about," he said in his whisper.

"I'm not mad," Edward insisted. Embry appraised him for a moment.

"Maybe you should be," he said finally. "You have a lot to be mad about."

"Well I'm not. So you can all go back to Bella and tell her I'm fine and she should take me home."

"Is that what you want us to do?" Embry asked.

"No." Sadness welled up inside him, mixing with the anger and deflating it. "I thought that coming here would fix everything. That if I just came to see where he lived, the things he saw and did, where he was buried, it would stop hurting so much. But it hurts as much now as it always did. When is it going to stop?"

"When you face it," Embry said simply. "Pain, sadness, these emotions never go away on their own, especially when they're so intense the way they are right now for you. But if you face them, and face their cause, you'll start to notice that they hurt less."

"Fine. I'm angry. I'm angry at everything. I'm angry at my perfect family. I'm angry at my perfect brother. I'm angry at Brady for dying. I'm angry at the whole damn world. Everything good goes away, and it always will. So what's the point of trying to get close to anyone or anything, if it's just going to leave?" Edward threw the broken bow, and it lay there in a pile of splintered wood and string. "I'm angry at myself," he said, emotion welling up inside faster than he could push it down. "It was my fault that Brady got sick. It was my fault."

"What?" Embry asked. "No, he had a heart condition that was the reason he was sick."

"Before that. He had pneumonia. He got sick because he spent too much time out in the snow with me when he came to visit."

"Edward… Cold isn't the only cause of pneumonia. He already had a weak immune system. He used to get sick all the time. There was no telling that this was going to be anything except a normal bout of the flu. It wasn't your fault." Embry had never been good at emotions, or comforting someone, but even he knew when someone needed a hug, and Edward was fighting to hold himself together. Embry pulled him in close, and wrapped his arms around him. "It wasn't your fault. Nothing that ever happened to you was your fault. Shitty people did awful things to you, and Brady's death was in the cards for him since he was born. No one could have known it was going to happen, and certainly not when. Besides, it was you who gave him the best few months of his life. And if there was anything I wanted for him, it was for him to have someone who would love him and care about him. You gave him that." Edward followed Embry blindly as Embry led him to a bench to sit. "It's not going to be an overnight thing, but you're going to forgive yourself," Embry continued. "You're going to start to love yourself again, if not for yourself, then for the people around you."