Twenty-Two

Emily's phone buzzed, startling her. For the briefest of seconds, she had been sure it would be Sam, but within that same breath she realized how foolhardy that was; even if Sam was back in his human skin, he hadn't had anything on him when he shifted. He likely didn't have any clothes, let alone a phone to confirm to her that he was alright.

The name on the screen read: Rachel Black

"Hey," Emily greeted quickly. Rachel was one of the handful of people who knew about Sam and the rest of the pack.

"Hey," Rachel parroted. "I have news."

Emily felt her stomach drop. "What happened?"

"Paul just got back. Sam had him out in the backyard for over an hour trying to get him to shift back."

"Is Sam…" Emily hesitated. "Okay?"

Rachel snorted. Out of all of the three Black children, Jacob included, Rachel was the hardest to deal with. There was such a high level of sarcasm to everything that Rachel did and said that rankled Emily. "He seemed fine. He said he was going to take all of the wolves back home personally, so it might be a while. Like I said, it took him about an hour to get Paul to shift back."

Emily breathed a sigh of relief, at least Sam was okay.

"Where is Paul now, is he okay?"

Rachel sighed. "I guess. He wanted a shower; he said his bones still felt broken." Rachel paused, her tone growing bitter. "God, I hate this place."

Rachel, Emily knew, had been desperate to get out of La Push since her mother's death. She and her twin sister, Rebecca, had become reluctant surrogates to their little brother Jacob at a young age, and Rachel still resented it. After high school she was elated to finally leave to go to college, and it was only on a quick trip back home, that she met Paul Lahote, and quickly thereafter he had imprinted on her.

Rachel and Paul were all angry passion, fighting just as quickly as they would make up. As a none-member of the pack, neither Emily or Rachel could imprint, the same way Sam and Paul had, but Emily knew that what she felt for Sam was drastically different then the relationship that Rachel and Paul had. She didn't doubt that Rachel loved Paul, but sometimes, Emily wondered if she even really liked him.

Cupping the mount of her belly, Emily asked, "It's not so bad," but her voice was small, she looked around the beach house, the entire front part of which was destroyed by Sam's change. Billy had sent a few of the tribe's teenagers to patch up the front with boards, leaving their view of the ocean lost. There were pictures that Emily had to clean up that had been destroyed, and the tiny disco ball she had hung from the ceiling when they moved had shattered. She'd be cleaning up glitter shards for weeks, probably long after her child was born.

Emily felt Rachel shrug, her voice sounded farther off. "I know you and Sam are end-game, or whatever, but I didn't choose this. This secretive, super hero bullshit is exactly why I wanted to leave in the first place."

She felt the baby kicked and Emily winced. "Are you saying you want to leave Paul?"

Rachel's voice cracked. "No. I love Paul. I just hate this place. I hate what this place turns us into. I fucking hate werewolves."

Emily knew from experience that once Rachel got going it would take a while to get her back on track. "When Sam left how many more of the pack hadn't changed back?"

Rachel sighed again, recounting. "I think there were three more. Two new ones, too."

"Two new wolves?"

"Yeah, looked like it."

Emily sat up a bit straighter, "Do you know who they were?"

Billy hadn't mentioned any new wolves when she spoke to him earlier. She wondered what else he wasn't telling her.

"Couldn't tell," Rachel explained. "They looked new. They looked young."

Emily knew, that the younger they were, the harder it would be to transition back and stay in control.

"Sam said Jacob was with the Cullen's." Rachel added.

Emily hesitated. Rachel's brother was a rough spot for the rest of the family, and the other Quileute wolves. They all knew that Jacob had imprinted on Bella and Edward's young daughter, but his break with the rest of them was a difficult burden to bear.

"Paul said," Rachel continued. "Well, he 'snarled' really, that he was going to kill Jacob. Said that he betrayed the entire tribe by choosing to side with bloodsuckers."

"What do you think about that?" Emily asked. As a rule, Emily tried very hard not to take sides. The fight between the Cullen's and the Quileute's were, in her opinion, a stale cause. The Cullen's had lived here peacefully, once in the 1940's, during the leadership of Ephraim Black, and again now. They had never killed anyone in their time here. The other vampires, though, and specifically the darker beings of their race, were, as far as Emily was concerned the true enemies.

She knew, as well, how Rachel was feeling. Leah had also fallen away from the pack. She loved her cousin deeply, in many ways, her bond with Leah was stronger than her bond with Sam. She hated to think that her actions had caused Leah any pain, but the vortex of emotion that she felt with Sam had been, and continued to be, overwhelming. She would die for Sam, as she knew Sam would die for her. Their love was sacred, and all encompassing. She just wished that she had somehow met Sam first, before he and Leah had dated or fallen in love, or even that there was some way to show Leah how much Emily still loved and cherished her as a cousin, and beloved sister.

"I can't believe that my boyfriend, no, the man that I love… the man that keeps saying that he wants to marry me, also wants to kill my brother… because he, my brother, is in love with a vampire-human hybrid. You see? This is why Forks is so fucked up."

The baby kicked again, and Emily rubbed her abdomen in soothing gestures. "Fucked up is right." Her eyes stared to the plywood nailed to the front of her house. She no longer had front door, or windows on this side of the house. Half of her kitchen was demolished. She was so far along in her pregnancy that she couldn't even bend down to clean her own floor.

"Don't worry, Em," Rachel noted, catching onto her friend's sudden reserve. "I'm sure Sam will be back soon."

"Yeah, you're right," Emily said, trying to conjure cheer back into her voice.

"Hey, I just heard the shower shut off, Paul will be coming out in a second." Rachel laughed, "He'll be butt ass naked and horny as hell from the shift."

Emily yelped in shock, but also understanding. Sam was the same way. "Okay, I'll let you go."

"Thanks for listening, Em."

Emily hung up the phone, placing her cell on the coffee table, and rubbed her belly again. The baby was more active in the evenings and late at night. Had it been any other night she may have joked that the baby was restless for their dad to get home, but tonight she worried that it was the stress of the day. She was due in November, barely six weeks away. She hadn't been hurt when Sam shifted, but she had spent the entire day worried and on edge for him. She lifted up a throw blanket and pulled it around her body, the soft yarn ticking her arms. She felt restless, lost in the ramshackle of her own home, and feeling strangely exposed now that she was without the windows that overlooked the ocean.

She ran her fingers down her face, feeling the raised scarring across her cheeks and mouth. She knew firsthand how dangerous the change could be, and how intense the anger of the untrained wolf could get. In many ways, Rachel was right. If she told the normal passerby that Sam had done this to her face, she would be considered a battered girlfriend or wife. Sam would be labeled as abusive.

Was he?

Was she looking at her husband as a man or a monster? Did the monster accent the man or did the man cradle the monster? Was she going to give birth to a baby that could potentially be caught in the crossfire of this supernatural war?

Sam would never leave their people, she knew this. He wasn't the grandson of a chief like Jacob was, but she knew that he wanted the job, and with Jacob distancing himself, more and more each day, it was unlikely that he would one day take up the mantle.

It was raining and cold, but despite this, she wanted to go outside. She wanted to feel the cool air against her skin and taste the salty tang of the ocean on her tongue. Emily used the backdoor, wandering through the brightly lit house like a ghost. The porch light was on, and her slippered feet scuffed against the old wood of the porch.

She had planted wild ferns, dug up from the woods, all around the house, and they gleamed emerald green in the moonlight. There was a chill to the wind tonight, but she didn't feel the cold as bad as she had before. If there was one good thing about pregnancy, it was that she was rarely, if ever, cold anymore. She sat in the rocking chair by what used to be her front door. It was made by Sam's father, as a wedding present, the twin of which rocked empty and alone in the breeze off the water. She sat down, hefting her feet up onto the wood of the railing and rocking. The moon was hidden behind a cluster of clouds and all around her was night. In the distance she could hear the sea's night time roar, hypnotizing her with its billow and sigh.

Emily had always felt connected to the earth. She loved to be barefoot running through damp grass or climbing up trees, or dancing on the beach. Sam had proposed to her while she was sitting in a tree, the same tree that she and Leah used to climb up when they were younger.

She heard the rustle of beach shrub, a rubbing together of toughened foliage, then the crunch of footprints on coarse sand. He appeared to her like a ghost, silhouetted in the kind of shivering silvery hues that she associated with transformation. He was ethereal, utterly one with the forest and the sea all around them. Emily called out his name, startling him. She could tell he had been looking at the front of the house—the destruction, and the wreckage of his transformation earlier. Sam halted, eyes searching for her in the dark. Emily dropped the blanket that she had wrapped around herself earlier, letting it fall to the floor of the porch, and ran, as best she could with a pregnancy as far advanced as hers, down the creaky steps and outward, through their tiny yard, and beyond to the beach sand where Sam stood.

In those last few moments before she had him in her arms she didn't care about the wayward look on his face, the dejection at seeing what his transformation had done to the tiny house that they had spent so much time making their own. She didn't care about the downcast set of his shoulders, or the frown that had been shadowing his face until he heard her voice call out to him. Or even the fact that he was naked, a revelation which made her giddy for a moment. Could none of the others have not given him a pair of pants to walk home in?

When she got to him, she was crushed into his own embrace, and she shuttered when she heard the anguish in his voice. "Are you okay? Is the baby…"

Emily cupped his cheek, pulling away from him to look into his face. She brushed a tear off of his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb. "We're fine. Everything is fine."

Sam stared at her, arms wrapping tighter around her body. His gaze searching her face for any signs of distress.

She reassured him, "We're fine."

His hands went to her abdomen, stretching wide across the tight canvas of her stomach. She covered his hands with hers and moved them closer to her bellybutton and together they felt the baby move. Sam gasped, as he always did, amazed by the life that was still strong and heathy inside of Emily. He let his head fall into the crook of her neck, let her envelope him further into her embrace. He shivered, feeling peace for the first time that day.

"Tell me?" She asked.

He gripped her tighter. "There are more vampire's on Cullen land. Some from Alaska, others like them, but there was one…" He moved his hands back to her stomach, desperate to feel his child's life once more.

"Go on," she coaxed.

He lifted his head, looking her in the eyes. "One of them was from the Volturi."

Emily didn't understand. "The same Volturi who once came here to kill Bella's daughter?"

Sam nodded. "I can't explain it. He came and everything inside of me forced the shift. I've never felt like that. Not even when I shifted for the first time as a teenager. Not even when I was so angry—" his fingers trailed down the scars on her face, reminded of that awful day when he lost control.

She grabbed his hand, moved it back down to her abdomen. "Don't think about that."

Emily knew from experience that once pressed, Sam would dwell on their past together, and once he was too far down inside the spiral of guilt, he did not easily come back up again.

Swallowing, Sam went on. "I couldn't control it, but I was still so aware of everything else." The baby kicked and Sam's hand followed the movement. "I saw the look on your face," Sam winched, remembering. "I was aware of the way the house felt when it broke around me. I remember screaming for you in my head, but I couldn't stop. I had to get onto Cullen land. We all did… except…"

Emily tilted his chin away from her belly, forcing him to look at her. "Except?"

"Except for Leah."

Emily stiffened.

"I know," Sam told her, his voice taking on the edge of astonishment. "I can't explain it. All of us shifted. Paul, Jared, and two more—new ones—Jack and Tina. None of us could stop it, and even when I wanted to, I could not shift back. It took—" he paused, trying to find the right words. He gripped her tighter. "It took Leah taunting me with confirmation over whether you were safe or not before I could finally shift back into this." He gestured to himself. His naked, scared chest, his muscled legs, his hanging penis, exposed to the night air, unashamed and unafraid to stand before her.

"Leah's strong," Emily confirmed.

Momentarily, Sam was reminded of Leah's comments back by the river. He had asked her pointblank, why she hadn't shifted, and she had said, without preamble, that she was strong. Emily didn't even need to ask.

"What about Jacob?" Emily wondered.

"I don't know about Jacob," he confided. "Other than to say that he's back at the house… With Ratatouille, or whatever her name is."

Emily raised an eyebrow, as if to say, you do know her name, why won't you use it? She shivered, the thought of the Volturi made her skin crawl.

Sam grasped her arms, rubbing his palms up and down across them, flattening her goosebumps. All around them the ocean waves broke and surrendered to the shore, the wind was kicking up cold sand against his shins. "Let's get you inside, it's freezing."

She wasn't cold, but she somehow felt uncomfortable saying so.

When they walked up the porch stairs, Sam stopped, staring at the damage that he had wrought that morning by the destruction of his shift. Emily put her hand on his chest, guiding him silently, past the boarded up-front door and dropping roof. She wanted to tell him that they would fix it, that things would be fine in the morning, but with the Volturi, once again, in Forks, she couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

"I smell like wet dog and dirt," Sam confessed, when they were inside.

Emily curled her nose. "Just a little bit."

He swatted her ass, playfully, pulling her close against his chest to kiss her deeply. Emily smelled wet cedar and mud. "Shower," she suggested.

"Come with me?"

She followed him into the bathroom, bur rather than disrobing she sat on the closed toilet seat. Sam grasped her hand, momentarily disappointed, "I'll be here when you get out."

He bent down, kissing her scared cheek. "I love you, so much."

She melted, as she always did. "Not as much as I love you."

Emily watched him step into the shower, it was an old off-white bathtub with a clear shower curtain. "Tell me about the others, Paul and Jared, and Jack and Tina." She knew that Jack was barely eighteen, same age as Seth, and he worked at the grocery store on the reservation. Emily knew even less about Tina, other than to say that she was still in high school. Offhandedly, she thought that it would be nice to have a girl in the pack again, but as soon as she thought it, her memories turned to Leah.

Leah, who, when pressed, Emily knew the strongest amongst them.

Strongest as well as the most stubborn.

"Paul's pissed. He was in a rage for a solid hour before I convinced him to change. Rachel was out in their backyard throwing framed photos at him, yelling at him that if he didn't shift back in the next minute, she would leave his ass and go back to Pullman."

Emily smirked. Rachel had definitely not said that while they were on the phone.

"Jack was hectic," Sam went on. "He kept howling. One of those chest deep howls, and he would not stop. Tina was easier, quiet. Mostly scared. She cried when she shifted back into her human shelf. I had to talk to her mother—in the bushes, in the dark," he amended, "so she couldn't see my—" he didn't need to verbally confirm what he meant.

Emily laughed, imagining what it must have been like for him to stand in the bushes explaining to Tina's mother where she had been all day. Hopefully Billy had called her earlier to explain about the werewolf genome and how her daughter was a carrier.

Sam turned the water off, and when he drew back the shower curtain the bathroom filled with steam. He went immediately to her side, where she held out a clean towel. Sam ignored it, bending down instead to kiss her again on the cheek. His mouth slowly moving to lips. "Better?" he breathed.

He meant his smell, and she knew it. "Much," she reassured.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," he went on, grabbing the towel from her and wrapping it around his waist. She had been tempted to grab his balls with him standing there like that, but she missed her chance.

"What?"

"I almost got hit by a car in town earlier."

Emily was immediately shaken. "What do you mean?"

"Right after we left the Cullen land, we—I was human but the others weren't yet—were running through town, no one was around, but then suddenly, this car honked and swerved and almost hit us."

"My god," she breathed.

Sam went to the mirror, cleaning the surface with the palm of his hand. He then picked up his toothbrush and wet it, sliding toothpaste onto the bristles. "Yeah," he chuckled a bit, wetting the brush again. "It was kind of close. I think they just saw me and not the others, though." Sam put the toothbrush in his mouth and began to brush his teeth.

Emily could smell spearmint wafting off of him. "So, they saw a naked Indian running through the streets of Forks? That'll get somebody talking."

Sam spoke through a mouthful of foam. "Better that they see a naked Indian than a naked Indian and a pack of werewolves."

"I suppose you're right," Emily countered.

Sam spit, shrugging. "It was dark, maybe they didn't see anything at all."

"But they honked?"

Sam tilted his head to the side. "Yeah, they honked."

They both knew what the repercussions were to have a werewolf be seen. They're tribe had kept this secret for centuries. Sam shuttered to think what it would be like to be the fool who revealed their secrets to the world.

Sam cupped his hand under the faucet, letting his curved palm fill with water to swish his mouth clean. He quieted himself, contemplating.

"I'm sure everything is fine," Emily reasoned. She stood, went to him, wrapped her arms around him, letting his back feel the press of her belly.

"God, I love the way you look like this," he told her, eyeing her from the mirror.

"As big as a whale? Or clumsy as a porcupine?

Sam raised his eyebrow, one flirtatious curve. "Whales are my favorite animal."

Emily laughed, kissing his shoulder. Inhaling the sweetened tang of his warm skin.

Sam covered her hand with his. "Are you sure you're alright? This morning—before…"

"I'm okay," she whispered. She had placed her cheek against his skin and he could no longer see her eyes.

"I love you," he confessed, his voice was unapologetic and proud.

"I love you," she echoed. Still, he could not see her eyes.

When he thought of his transformation earlier, what he had done to the house, he felt shame. "I know none of this is easy. I would understand if you wanted to leave," he explained. "For yourself. For the baby."

Emily looked up, meeting his eyes. "What are you saying?" She could see the fear and hurt in his eyes and she didn't understand.

Sam turned, facing her. He needed the comfort of her eyes, but he felt prepared to hear her answer. He would die if anything happened to her or the baby.

"Leave?" she asked again. "How could you ask me that? How could you even suggest?"

He stopped her, trying to articulate. "I would not survive if something happened to you. I would not be able to go on."

She studied him, and he waited for her answer. "I was scared this morning."

He lowered his head, preparing himself for the blow that he knew she had to deal him.

"I was thinking all day about what would have happened if the baby was here. What if he was a toddler and was somehow in the way?"

His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't imagine it, but he knew it was a very real possibility.

"Will his first word be 'run' or 'wolf?' How can I keep you both safe?" She gestured to her chest, where her heart was beating against her rib cage, so close to the roundness of her child still growing inside her.

Sam stepped away, distancing himself from her.

She went on, grabbing his hand. "But then I thought that my child would be the luckiest kid in the world to have a father like Sam Uley."

He looked back at her, stunned.

"You're right, it will never be easy. But nothing in life is easy. Carrying this child is not easy. Knitting a blanket isn't easy. But I would rather have the life that I have now, than any other life without you."

He breathed her name; the ghost of his breath was against her cheek.

"I want you to kiss me, Sam," she begged.

He gripped her tightly.

"I want you to hold me," she pleaded. He did. "Tighter," she breathed.

"I want you to swear," he told her, "That you'll put the baby first."

Emily pulled him closer. He could never be close enough.

"You come from a long line of warrior women Emily Young Uley," she cried out, a sound between a laugh and a sob. "Centuries of strong unyielding women who loved fiercely and never gave up."

"Sam," she whispered.

"You know I would die for you," he went on.

"Sam," she warned. "Not before I die for you."

"I would stand in front of a bullet for you."

She shook her head. "So would I."

"I know." Sam knew he wasn't making any sense, he tried to clarify. "I want you to promise me that you'll use that same energy and always choose the baby first. No matter what happens."

"I'll protect both of you," she countered. It didn't matter what the obstacle might be, she would die for anyone that she loved.

He chuckled. "I know. But there may come a time when you have to choose. And I just need to know that you'll choose the baby—Jane or Owen," he finished, harkening back to the names they had discussed earlier.

Emily shook her head. "I don't like those names, anymore."

He laughed, trying to lighten the mood he had put her in. "What then? What names do you like this evening, my love?"

"I want our children to have natural names."

Children, had she really said children? As excited as he was for this pregnancy, the thought of another one thrilled him. "What do you mean natural names?"

"Like trees or plants, something having to do with the earth or nature."

He nipped her lip with his own. "Like what?"

"Cedar or Pine."

He cocked his head. "Cedar if it's a girl and Pine if it's a boy."

"Something like that," she reasoned.

"Okay," he kissed her. "Whatever you want."

She thought about it. Neither of those names were right, but the right one would come to her.

"I still think it's a girl," he argued playfully. "Cedar Uley."

"No," she said winching as the baby kicked again. "Definitely a boy."

He knelt before her, covering her stomach with his large hands. He lifted her shirt, exposing the taught skin to the warm bathroom air. Perspiration had started to form at her hairline. Emily watched as he kissed her bellybutton, his lips following the wayward movements of their child as it stretched and rolled inside her.

His touch was so soothing, his hands were so warm. She yawned.

"You're tired," he noted. "It's so late. You should be sleeping."

Emily sighed; her earlier mood dampened when he spoke to her like an overbearing husband. Regardless, she was exhausted. When he stood, she leaned most of her weight against him, easing the burden of her pregnancy.

"Let's go to bed," he coaxed.

She sighed. Letting him lead her into the bedroom. All the lights were on and she could see her reflection in the window glass. She looked away, annoyed with her size.

"Don't do that," he warned. "You're too fucking sexy to give yourself that look when you see your reflection."

She laughed.

"If you don't knock it off," he warned. "I won't be able to let you sleep. I'll have to make love to you for the rest of the night."

He lifted the covers on the bed, stepping in. He patted the mattress beside him, her usual side of the bed.

The baby kicked again. She cupped her hand around the bottom of her stomach, trying to loosen the feeling of unease that she felt.

"Em?" he asked.

"I'm okay," she told him, seeing the look of panic on her face. "Give me just a second."

He pouted as she walked away, his look so lost that she had to laugh.

Her phone was still in the living room, discarded on the end table by the couch where she had left it. Picking it up, she let her finger hover over the contacts.

It was so late, she reasoned. The clock on the screen read 2:48 AM. She clicked into her contacts. Typed L slowly. There were several contacts under that letter, but only one that read: Leah Clearwater.

Emily took a deep breath and began to type:

I miss you.
Can we talk?