eighteen.

(Leah)

They have been hiking for nearly a whole half hour in their own contemplative silences when, after imagining what her mother must have thought when Quil Ateara showed up to pass on Charlie's fish (and blathering whatever excuse he'd made up for her absence), Leah is reminded of a promise she has made.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?"

"You think your dad would let me use his boat to go fishing sometime?"

Without breaking stride, Jacob looks back at her over his shoulder from several steps ahead. She can just about see his look of bewilderment in the moonlight slipping through the trees high above. "That's . . . random. Why do you want to go fishing?"

"Charlie gave me half the contents in his freezer this afternoon so my mom could start practicing Dad's recipe," she explains slowly, carefully. She doesn't want to admit what happened on Chief Swan's driveway, but she also doesn't want to have to sail out into the harbour on her own. "I promised that I'd replace it."

"Charlie . . . ?" Jacob frowns. "You went to Forks today?"

Oh, shit. "Uh — yeah. It's kind of a long story. But I want to go. Fishing, I mean," she says hurriedly. "I know Old Quil's boat is better, but I don't really want to have to ask him for a favour."

Leah finally matches Jake's impossibly long strides that have faltered in his confusion. She looks up at him, watching as his expression smooths out into something softer. It's hard to keep track of his ever-changing moods as it is, let alone being the recipient of such . . . such affection. It must be another wolf thing, she decides — their hormones must be bent right out of shape or something, especially when they're exploding right out of their skin all the time.

Or maybe he's just feeling sorry for her. The smile she receives is small, kind of sad, but nonetheless tender. Sympathetic. "Honey, you know Charlie probably doesn't expect you to go to that kind of trouble, right? I don't think it was a favour for a favour; he'd do anything for you guys."

Leah shrugs her shoulders, hot under Jacob's gaze. She's having trouble enough keeping her feet moving in a straight line. "I know, but . . ." She can only shrug again. "I still want to go. Will you come with me?"

"Sure." It's another immediate, knee-jerk response, but she appreciates it nonetheless — even if Jake clearly doesn't understand why exactly this is something she needs to do. "When do you want to go?"

"Whenever. Next weekend, maybe? Unless you're busy. Don't worry about it if you are, it was just a thought."

"I've already said I'll go with you. As soon as I have some time off, okay?"

She nods, and it's quiet again for a while — but she's expecting it when Jacob finally speaks again. She's practically heard the gears turning in his head.

"I, uh . . . I didn't think you liked Forks."

"I don't," she replies plainly. It's hell on earth, compared to her beloved reservation. "But I like Charlie."

"Yeah, me too." Jacob looks away, feet picking up again, and Leah hurries to keep up beside him. "Did you see Bella?"

"Unfortunately. Embry and Quil held me back, though — don't worry." It's easier to joke. "She seemed human enough. Kept on asking about you."

Leah can feel Jacob's surprise more than she can hear it in his voice when he frowns again and says, "Embry and Quil went with you?" as if he's not even heard her trying to tease him, bait him. As if he doesn't even care about Bella that much after all.

(But of course he does. Everybody knows that he does. And that does not make Leah want to foam at the mouth. Definitely not.)

"I told you it was a long story."

Jacob pointedly inclines his head in their general direction towards home. "Good thing we've got a long way to go still, then."

Leah sighs. He's not going to let this one go.

So she tells him about returning the Rabbit and then spending the morning with his father (which he is surprised about), and then about her mom finally finding her voice after starting to show a vague interest in the world around her (which he is pleased about, and it's kind of sweet). She doesn't tell him about answering the phone in his kitchen and being horrible to Bella on his behalf, however, because she doesn't think he'll appreciate that too much — but she does tell him that Bella was there when they all eventually arrived at Charlie's and that she's allegedly grounded for the rest of her natural life.

Jacob just looks at her dubiously. "I'm still confused about why Quil and Embry went with you."

"I didn't invite them," she protests a little petulantly, still blindly following Jake through the forest. She can't see five steps ahead of her for shit — it's too dark. She hopes he knows where he's going. "It was a spur of the moment thing and then I just . . . ran into them, and they decided to tag along."

"Uh-huh."

"Have you ever tried saying no to Embry?"

Jacob laughs. "Okay, yeah. Fair point. You didn't literally run into them though, did you? Because you know you can use the Rabbit whenever."

"Really?"

His blinks, face sincere. "Of course. I gave you the keys. It wasn't conditional or anything," he says. His voice sounds as if she's insulted him somehow.

"Oh." Stunned, Leah stumbles over a thick root protruding from the ground and feels Jacob's hands shoot out towards her a second before she manages to catch herself in time. "Thanks."

"It's not a big deal, Leah." His hands are still hovering around her like he thinks she might fall again. "You don't need to sound so surprised. You need a car, right?"

She frowns. "It is a big deal. You love that car."

"Yeah, I do, I just didn't think you'd want to use your dad's or anything," he explains simply. "Besides, it's not really like I get to drive the Rabbit much anyway. I'd rather someone did . . . Well, no, that's a lie. Not anyone. But I don't mind if you do."

"Oh."

It's stupid, really, but Leah feels tears threatening to appear from the corners of her eyes. She swallows thickly. Stupid. Really stupid. Stupid that she suddenly can't find her voice to even thank him for understanding her that much when nobody else does.

"Are you okay? I didn't upset you, did I?" Jacob asks worriedly, hands flurrying around her again. "I didn't mean to, I just—"

"You didn't. I . . . Thank you. You're right about —" Leah sniffs, damning the traitorous shake in her voice "— you know, Dad's car." She blinks furiously to clear the blur in her vision, willing the tears away, and has to force herself to start walking again so that she doesn't completely give herself away. "Uhm. Thanks."

Jacob easily falls into step with her. "No problem. Just don't let Embry or Quil swipe the keys from you; they've been trying it with me for months, but I know Em would only put a dent in her. And Quil — he can't even drive a stick shift."

A small smile of guilt plays on her lips which Jacob doesn't miss. Thankfully, he doesn't mention the tears. "I kind of did already. Sorry. Embry — he drove back from Forks, after — well, I didn't stop him. Sorry."

"After what?"

He stops walking so suddenly without warning that Leah trips up again. She groans inwardly, berating herself. "After . . . after we picked up the fish from Charlie."

Jacob stares down at her, searching her face closely, until after what feels like the longest moment he proclaims, "You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You are," he insists. "What happened?"

Leah looks away and attempts to push them on. It really is a long walk. But Jacob pulls her back and holds onto her arm. Damn. He's not going to like this — at all. "Well, uh," she begins awkwardly, "like I said, Bella was there, but, uh, so was that boyfriend of hers —"

"Cullen?"

"— and you know what I'm like, can't keep my mouth shut, although this time it was actually my head that got us into trouble, really, and I couldn't exactly help that —"

Jacob is deathly still. His hold on her arm doesn't hurt, but his grip is tight enough that she can feel the slight tremor snaking its way along his arm. He growls, cutting her off again. "What happened."

Leah cringes underneath his waiting gaze. She doesn't know why. She's never usually the type to balk in the face of danger, which up until this point in her life has mostly consisted of her mother's reproachful looks and a few werewolves losing their shit in front of her. But maybe she is frightened a little bit. Not of Jacob, necessarily — never Jacob — but rather because he is about the only friend she has, and she does not want to fall out with him over a simple white girl. She might not approve of his life choices as much as she approves of Bella fucking Swan's when it comes to love, but Jacob obviously still cares for the girl.

"I must have thought something which wasn't very complimentary about Bella, I guess. I'm pretty sure it was me, anyway, unless Embry and Quil have developed a sudden aversion for the girl —" (which, Leah thinks, she would fully support. She's only human, after all) "— but I don't want to upset you, so can we please just not . . ."

"Did he hurt you."

"No," Leah says honestly, "but you will, if your nails dig into my arm any more than they already are."

Jacob's hand drops as if he has been stung. Leah wonders if she'll have another bruise, but she doesn't dare have a look — if only because of the sudden shame crossing Jake's face. "I wouldn't," he says, his voice still barely controlled. "Hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"I wouldn't," he insists again, impossibly even more adamant this time.

"I know, Jake." She reaches for his hand and tugs. "And Edward didn't either. Embry and Quil were there, and they wouldn't have let anything happen to me — or Bella. I'm sure of it. So come on, let's keep walking, 'kay?"

It takes a moment, but Jacob gives a stiff nod of his head and picks his feet up. He doesn't drop her hand, but instead he threads his fingers through hers and links them together. Leah doesn't mind too much. At least she won't nearly fall down again.

Jacob swallows hard, loud enough for her to hear. "He really didn't hurt you?"

"No, Jake. It was nothing. I mean, the guy spouted a load of bullshit, but he didn't really do anything. It was just empty words."

"Tell me what he said. Please."

"Something about Victoria —" (Jacob's fingers hold hers in an iron grip at that) "— which Embry kindly filled me in on, by the way — as if I needed anything else to worry about, knowing you and Seth are out there chasing after that, thank you very much. Then Edward said he wanted to speak to the Alpha when the pack was stabilised, or something. I guess he means you."

"No," Jacob growls. "Not me. Bella's bloodsucker can talk to Sam. He's still in charge, as far as I'm concerned."

"But your fight —"

"That wasn't about me wanting to take over," he snaps fiercely. "I thought you understood that. I don't want to lead."

But she doesn't understand, and she feels like she never will, not completely. Still, she nods as if she does anyway, the bite in his words rolling right off her back. Hormonal wolves.

"Sorry," he mumbles guiltily, squeezing her fingers. "I didn't mean to bite your head off."

"S'okay. I'm sorry, too. I just want to understand, Jake, because you could do it if you wanted to though, right? I've been thinking about this Alpha thing since you first told me about it." The day in her kitchen, the day she'd first learned about Sam and Emily. "I mean, your dad is the Chief."

"Sam's the Chief. Billy's just the figurehead."

"Yes, fine, but Billy was Chief first," Leah says impatiently, beating her impatience back down, "and to everyone else — you know, the mere mortals who don't know the truth, he still is. Your family's always been at the head of our tribe in one way or another, so surely that means you should be for the pack." She sighs. "I guess . . . I guess what I'm really trying to say is that if you didn't want to be — in charge, I mean, then why did you fight with Sam?"

The silence is palpable underneath the dense cover of the trees.

Then Jacob clears his throat. "Just how much did Embry tell you, exactly? Because I really didn't — you gotta believe me, that wasn't what happened. Being born of the right bloodline has been the bane of my life. Yeah, I'm supposed to be in charge. But I said no."

"Why?"

"Funnily enough, being some sort of legendary chief isn't at the top of my to-do list." And then, at the unimpressed glare Leah sends his way, he adds, "I didn't even want to be part of a pack, Leah, let alone their Chief. I have a hard enough time knowing that Sam can take away my freewill at any given moment, so how anyone could think I'd want to do that to someone else . . . I'd be a terrible leader."

She disagrees, but says, "Fine. Okay, I believe you. What I don't believe is that whatever this is, whatever had you so upset . . . If it's honestly not about leading everyone else, what is it that's so bad you can't tell me? Surely nothing's worth nearly becoming a murderer over."

"I could think of a few things," Jacob mutters darkly. "What else did Embry say?"

"He said the pack was in shambles. That Sam lost it with you over something or the other and you were only defending yourself, but you nearly —" Leah swallows uncomfortably. "You said it yourself. You had him — you could have done it, if you wanted to. And it's just . . . I have a really hard time believing either of you were ready to do that to each other, y'know?"

Somehow, Jacob knows there is more. "And . . . ?"

"And you gave an order," she says quietly, relenting underneath his warm gaze. There really is nothing else now. "That's why I thought you had taken over."

"I didn't —"

"I know," she reassures him quickly. "He told me you didn't know what you were doing. I don't think he blames you."

"Might be about just the only person who doesn't," Jacob mutters underneath his breath. "Except Quil, maybe. They're all pretty mad at me. God knows what Sam's going to do to me when I see him again."

Not for the first time that day, the fierce protectiveness which she is quickly starting to associate with Jake rises in her chest, seeping out of her so quickly that she struggles to remember herself. "He's not going to do anything to you."

Jacob has the gall to laugh at her. "You sound sure about that."

"As long as you don't call me Little Engine again," she warns, ignoring him when another laugh rings out, "otherwise I'll string you up after I've finished with Sam."

She means it, too.

(Jacob)

Leah is flagging beside him by the time their feet hit reservation soil, stifling yawns when she thinks he is not paying attention — but Jacob doesn't miss a single one. He is on full alert. The pack hasn't come across the redhead since the damned bloodsucker caught wind of the tiny Cullen and high-tailed it over the Olympic Mountains, but even if he hadn't been secretly worried about Leah running into the leech on her way back (because Victoria will come back — he is sure of it), he knows he would have followed his imprint regardless.

He'd follow her anywhere. He follows her all the way through the Rez, right to the door of his house where the Rabbit is parked up in front of it. He'd offered to walk her home, first, but even through her exhaustion she'd refused to be dissuaded, almost as if she didn't quite trust that he wouldn't disappear again afterwards.

As if he'd go anywhere now.

He pushes the unlocked door open and ushers her inside ahead of him, ignoring her eyerolls and another yawn which follows soon afterwards. And he almost stumbles when her scent hits him as soon as he walks into his living room and flicks on the light.

It doesn't matter that he's been wrapped up in her since she found him — this is different; there are traces of her all over the room, over every single part of it she has touched. He can tell almost instantly that she has washed down every inch of the kitchen, that she has done enough loads of laundry to last several weeks.

Jacob thinks about her scent all over his clothes and almost stumbles again. Did she go into his bedroom? His bathroom? Slight panic courses through him at the thought. A girl hasn't been in his bathroom for nearly two years, and never in his bedroom. But he can't pretend that the thought doesn't have his wolf practically purring inside of him.

"What?" she asks.

"It's . . . clean," he states, entirely aware of how so very stupid he sounds. It's as if his brain has come to a complete standstill. "You cleaned."

He doesn't have to look at her to know she's rolling her eyes at him again. "It was a pig sty, Jacob," she replies in that haughty tone of hers. "I know your dad is a bit too proud for his own good, but you've really gotta start asking for help if you need it."

His eyes flicker down the hallway, towards his dad's room from where he can hear the old man breathing deeply. "We don't need help."

"Like I said. Proud."

"We don't —" he starts to say again, but she cuts him off.

"It's not charity, Jake, alright? We're family. I didn't call it charity when you fixed my front door or when you offered your car up."

"That's different," he mumbles. He is supposed to care for her; he has been made for her, and she for him. She is an imprint. Sure, he might not be able to bring himself to tell her as much, but it's not exactly a role which he wants her to take up — not in the way Emily has shaped her own imprint by becoming a caregiver. Leah shouldn't have to feel like she needs to look after anyone, least of all him.

He hates himself for breaking down on her like that, back at their old camping spot. He shouldn't have done that. He came close. Too close to —

"Oh, for . . ." Leah tilts her head up to the ceiling. And Jacob, transfixed by the lines of her throat, the colour of her skin, can do nothing but watch as she swallows her aggravation and then says, "I'd shout at you, but I don't want to wake Billy."

"Go for it. He'd sleep through a storm."

"Don't tempt me," she mutters. And then she sighs. "Go and have a shower. You've got half the forest on you still."

"What are you going to do?"

She looks around the cramped living room, her lips puckering slightly and brows pulling together in thought. Jacob follows her line of sight and notices the mess on the coffee table, the trail of destruction his dad has undoubtedly left since she last cleaned.

"Don't," he warns.

"I didn't say anything," she says, her huge, tired brown eyes blinking up at him innocently under the fluorescents.

"If you're going to stay — and you can, if you want, but you don't have to look after me. Just sit down, okay? Help yourself to whatever you want."

Maybe it's because it's just been him and Billy since Rebecca refuses to come home from Hawaii and Rachel escaped to college. Maybe he is a little too defensive when it comes to receiving help. Or maybe it's because of some deep-rooted, ingrained need within the wolf to make sure his imprint is the one who is safe, happy, healthy and whole. He can't say. Either way, it's impossible to fight. Leah has far too much on her shoulders without the added weight of his problems, too.

"Please?" he adds more gently when she looks mutinous. "It'd make me feel better to know you're not running around after everyone else. I feel bad enough that you had to come and find me as it is."

"Drag you back, you mean," she says. There's a quiet but amused smile playing at the edge of her lips and enough deference in her voice that Jacob knows she's not mad, and he finds himself smiling back.

"Sit down," he insists again. "I won't be long."

He's ten minutes. Not that he's counting.

Ten minutes — that's all it takes before he's walking back into the living room dressed in clean sweats, his hair already drying, only to find that the coffee table has been tidied and Leah is half-asleep on the couch.

He's not all that surprised. She's walked miles today. For him.

He sets down the clothes he's brought in for her and crouches down in front of the couch, crossing his arms over her knees, and he feels his heart swell a little as she looks back at him through half-lidded eyes. Five nights of his cowering in the forest are completely erased with just that look.

"Hey," he says gently. "You want me to take you home now?"

"My feet hurt. Come sit."

"I can drive you —"

She yawns, lazily patting the space beside her. "Just sit with me for sec. S'not that late."

It is, he wants to tell her. It's nearly one o'clock in the morning, but the words fly right out of his head after he sits down on the cushions and she presses her cheek against his bare shoulder.

Fuck. He is in so much trouble. Even now everybody knows . . .

Tell her.

Don't tell her.

Leah nestles in closer and he can think no more. "For what it's worth," she murmurs, "I think you'd be good at it. Being in charge."

"I'd hate it."

"Mm," she agrees wearily, turning on her side and tucking her arms in between them, her words barely legible now, "I know. S'why you'd be good."

"Don't worry about it, okay?" He sweeps her wayward hair from her forehead. "I'll clear things up with Sam in the morning."

"Sure, sure."

"You're silly when you're sleepy, huh?"

"Mm," she hums again, "but I'm still right."

By the time he's thought of something sensible to say, she's asleep.