fifty-one

(Leah)

The sun still hasn't completely risen when she shakes Jacob awake. He may sleep like the dead, but there is some part of him that is always battle-ready, a part of him that has been so rigorously trained that it cannot be switched off even in unconsciousness: he jerks into wakefulness, eyes flying open to take stock of his surroundings, to assess the danger his body is prepared to face before his brain can fully catch up.

She feels awful for disturbing the few hours of rest he has been able to get; he had looked so peaceful, sprawled over the mattress and snoring lightly, his fingers brushing the floor, shaggy hair falling into his eyes. And although she would love nothing more than to leave him be, to keep him here and tell him to go back to sleep, she knows he would never allow his brothers to fight without him. Not for the world. Not even for her.

Still, she has never been able to share—not an ice-cream cone with Seth as children, not even a bag of chips with Kim as they watch reruns of Dawson's Creek on the couch—and the relentless pull of the imprint has made her more selfish than ever. Learning to share Jacob and Quil and Embry and Seth with the pack over these last few months has been a hard lesson she plans to forget as soon as today is over.

It's going to be the longest day of her life.

She gently swipes Jacob's hair back from his forehead as he calms, finally having realised that there is no danger, that everything is as it should be. He lets loose a long breath and falls back into the pillows, closing his eyes again.

"Did I oversleep?" he mumbles, voice thick and sluggish from sleep.

"No. But it's time to go."

He doesn't answer. Instead, he blindly reaches out, pulling her down with him until they're pressed skin to skin beneath the blankets. His touch does little to chase away the feeling of dread she has been carrying ever since the plan was set—ever since she realised, and had started struggling to accept, that she would be left behind. Left to stand with Emily and Kim on the porch, keeping alert on their widow's watch, waiting for the boys to return—maimed, disfigured, or perhaps the victims of possibilities too grotesque to imagine.

Jacob's breath tickles her ear, and she closes her eyes, soaking up the comfort he provides. He might not be able to stop her from imagining the worst, but his arms around her are enough for the moment.

Maybe just enough to persuade her into letting him go.

She barely manages it—barely manages to prise herself away from him so that they can both wash and get dressed in near-silence. It proves difficult to even excuse herself so she can spend five minutes alone in the bathroom and pull herself together, but she manages to make her feet move somehow.

She forces herself to descend the Blacks' porch, giving Jacob and his father privacy to say their goodbyes in peace, and she starts walking along the dirt track that stretches to the main street—the same street that will lead her to Sam and Emily's house—but it doesn't take long before Jacob has caught up with her. She's not surprised; she didn't expect his parting words with his father to be any kind of drawn-out, grand affair. At most, she imagines Billy would've said Be careful. Maybe Fight well, maybe a few Quileute words to inspire courage. And Jacob would've nodded, and said Sure, sure. S'later, Dad. After all, Billy is a proud man—proud of tradition, of what his son is about to do—and Jacob is so confident everything will go off without a hitch that he's declared they're all having pizza for dinner tonight to celebrate their victory. In his eyes, and his father's, spewing heartfelt goodbyes as if they're never going to see each other again is a waste of time.

She wishes she could think as they do.

It's not that she is convinced something bad is going to happen. It's that she's going to spend the day going insane, not knowing what's going on, if they have won. Not knowing if they are okay. Not knowing if Seth is safe, despite promises that he is going to be safely hidden away with Bella. Not knowing if the pack's numbers are enough to face twenty newborn vampires, even with the Cullens' assistance on the battlefield; not knowing if there is some greater plan, if they are going to draw the attention of the Italian bloodsuckers—if they have not done so already.

Jacob wraps an arm around her shoulders as they inch closer to the den (or so Kim calls it), their steps in sync as he pulls her close and kisses the side of her head. "Stop worrying."

"I'm not worrying. I'm thinking."

She can feel his smile as he noses against her cheek without a care in the world, not even looking where he's walking. "Fine, then. Stop thinking. We've been over this," he says. "It's going to be fine. You won't even notice I'm gone."

"Can I stay with Billy and Charlie, then?" she asks with feigned hope, tilting her head to receive another kiss.

"Nice try, honey."

"I thought so, too." She purses her lips. "I guess it doesn't matter. If I have my way, I'll be retiring you after this."

He laughs, but she doesn't laugh with him—she's serious. Deadly so. And it takes him a moment or two, but Jacob is halfway to realising this as he looks down at her and sees her stoic mask.

He falters a step, and his arm drops from her shoulders. "I'm seventeen. Not seventy," he says, clearly unable to decide whether she is still joking around or not. "You can't just retire me. I haven't even got a pension—"

"I can," she says resolutely. "You were going to quit anyway, right? Let's just move it up a little. I'll throw you a party and everything. Embry and Quil, too."

"We've got time," Jacob replies, already laughing again. "Let's talk about this over pizza."

She looks up at him, unsmiling. "I would do almost anything for you. I even made up with Emily to make today easier. And I'll do this—I'll wait inside her stupid house if that's what really you need, and I won't complain about it."

Jacob presses his lips together at that, his brow lifting ever so slightly.

"Okay, I won't complain any more," she amends. "But this is it, Jake—I'm not going through this again. We are not going through this again."

Jacob's expression softens, and he reaches out for her again. She doesn't resist. They are within sight of Sam and Emily's house, and she has no doubt that the whole pack are listening in, but she can't find it within herself to be self-conscious. They have seen and heard far too much already for it to start being a problem now.

"We're coming home," he promises, because he understands her better than anyone else and knows what she needs. Just as she understands that she cannot ask him to stay—that, despite all her attempts to do the exact opposite, she can do nothing but wait out this particular storm. "It'll be over in a few hours, and then we'll be back. All of us."

Leah sighs against Jacob's chest as he wraps a strong arm around her and holds her close. His other hand rests on the back of her head. She shuts her eyes, deflating underneath his touch. "You better be."

"You're too frightening for there to be an alternative," he says. She can hear the smile back in his voice already.

"That being said . . . Don't do anything stupid," she tells him. "More than normal, I mean."

"I'm going to ignore that and pretend you said something nice, like Be careful or Watch out for Seth—"

"Someone needed to say it."

"—maybe even something sweet like I love you—" he continues in a poor imitation of her "—or something like Please don't die, Jake, because then I'd have to avenge you; Charlie would arrest me for murder, and that'd be such a waste of my diploma—"

"Hey!" she protests, jabbing at his ribs, but he only laughs.

"That's totally something you'd say, don't deny it."

"I . . . Okay, you're right, that is something I'd say," she admits, finally laughing with him despite knowing it was his plan all along and that she has effectively lost this argument, a privilege that she only ever allows him and no other. "You've made your point."

His palms curve around either side of her jaw, coaxing her to lean her head back and meet his gaze. "We're coming home," he repeats. The pads of his thumbs trace the corners of her lips, and it only takes a second before he is pressing kisses upon them instead.

"What you said before, about—" She is silenced when he captures her lips for a third, fourth time, twisting his fingers in her loose hair. And though it is second nature to kiss him back, she manages to finish her sentence eventually. "About saying something nice. Something sweet."

He pauses, his mouth ghosting over hers as he thinks about it—what he'd said whilst trying to distract her, even if he may not have realised it. Three words that they'd both skipped over, that they have both skirted around. It seems they have both said everything but those words.

His heart hammers underneath her hand. "Wait 'til I get back," he murmurs, touching his forehead to hers. "If you say it now, I won't be able to think of anything else."

"Jake, I—"

"I know, honey. Me, too. Tell me later, yeah?"

"Okay," she whispers, and she lets him kiss her until the howling begins.

(Jacob)

Knowing what he has to do, it is very, very easy to call on the phase and fall onto four paws. He shakes out his fur with an instant awareness that Sam, Seth and Paul are watching him—and, through him, the scene unfolding on the lawn as the last goodbyes are said.

"Don't worry," Embry says, pulling Leah into an embrace that almost lifts her off her toes. "I'll look after him."

"We both will," Quil says. He smiles at her, stooping low to kiss her cheek over Embry's shoulder. "We'll have him back before you know it."

Leah throws her arms around them both, and the three of them stand there for a long moment, awkwardly tangled in each other with her as their anchor. To the side, Kim and Jared are locked in an equally fierce embrace; Jacob can hear the younger girl sniffling quietly.

Sam howls again, summoning his wolves to order. But he's too far away; Leah can't hear him, whilst Quil and Embry pretend not to.

"I want you all back here in one piece," Leah orders them both, "do you understand me? And Seth—don't let him get any ideas. You tell that dork to stay right where he is, or I'll kick his furry ass."

In the far reaches of Jacob's mind, he is aware of Seth quietly watching through his eyes. And though the kid grumbles at the comment, he is still glad that his sister seems to have accepted her fate and is staying on the Rez, even if he is also being kept off the frontlines.

"Yes, boss," Embry says. It's a testament to how he is feeling that he doesn't even laugh; he only tightens his arms around her as Quil says, "Understood," sounding far less concerned than Embry. He is most excited of them all to get going and finally prove himself.

Embry sets Leah back on her feet, though she keeps her arms locked in place. He laughs, reaching up and gently peeling her arms away from his neck. "You gotta let us go now, sweetheart."

It takes a few extra seconds, but Leah eventually relents and steps back with a sigh, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Jacob knows she will not allow them to fall, not even after she has watched the pack leave. She holds her chin high, and he thinks he couldn't love her more if he tried.

"Go kick some vampire butt," she says.

"Attagirl." Embry grins and ruffles her hair, just as Quil leaps away with a whoop, so eager to phase that he shreds his shorts and gracelessly tumbles to the group in a mass of chocolate fur. Embry is soon to follow, playfully nipping at their friend's heels.

Leah keeps her smile, waiting until they have both disappeared into the trees that overshadow Emily and Sam's yard before letting her expression slip. She looks for him, then, pointedly ignoring how Collin and Brady have already started circling her and Kim, trying to herd them both closer towards the house. They all have their own jobs to do.

Jacob holds Leah's eyes, waiting until she sucks in a deep breath and finally nods at him.

"Go."

Are you coming, Jake? Seth interrupts. The kid has turned his attention back onto Bella, watching as she paces laps around the small campsite, something she has been doing in short bursts ever since he traded off babysitting duties with Sam at dawn. Tell me what to say to Edward, 'cause I think he's counting on you showing up.

I've done enough, Jacob thinks. He grants himself one last look at Leah before taking off in a run after his brothers, quickly assuming point and leading them away from Emily's—from Leah. What else can I say? I talked to her, Leah's talked to her—hell, you talked to her, and still no dice. I'm done.

Paul lets out a short howl of celebration, cutting off the very second Sam snarls. They are both at the meeting point already, waiting for the rest of the pack to join them. C'mon Sam, this is a historic day. The Bella Swan Show is finally cancelled!

And we're celebrating by blowing our cover? Sam retorts, though it's not without a flash of fond amusement. Idiot.

They can all see the painful scene playing out before Seth, who obediently hovers at the edge of the campsite, staying within hearing distance as agreed. Neither Bella nor Edward make an effort to speak quietly—surely because they know the entire pack can hear, or because there is no point putting on a facade on today of all days—and though Jacob has promised Leah that he will try and do better, he isn't immune to the tantalising appeal of eavesdropping, even when it's communicated through Seth's rose-coloured glasses.

"He's not coming, Bella," Edward says quietly, one hand resting on her shoulder.

"He's been listening, hasn't he," Bella moans, awkwardly wringing her hands. "And you knew. You let me talk about marrying you before I had even told him! How could you do that?"

Edward frowns. "Seth is here to make sure the wolves can listen. Jacob knew what that would entail."

Bella's frown deepens as she stares at him, at Seth, worrying her lip between her teeth. "Do you think that matters? Do you think I care whether he was properly warned? I'm hurting him, Edward. Every time I turn around, I'm hurting him again," she says through big, gasping sobs. "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Bella," Edward says, coiling his arms around her.

She pushes back from him, her jaw set in indignation. "I have to go find him."

"Bella, he's miles away, and it's almost time. And getting yourself lost wouldn't help anyone, regardless," Edward pleads, ever placating, holding his hands out in surrender.

"I don't care. I can't just sit here. Please, tell him," she pleads, rounding on Seth. He crouches low by the tent, uncertainty creeping over him as he eyes Bella, knowing what she is about to ask of him—of them, of his brother. "Tell Jacob I need to see him. Please."

Watching Bella self-destruct is not a new experience, but it still tugs at Jacob's chest like clawing at a still-healing wound. From what he has heard, she will almost certainly forget this moment after Edward has bitten her; she will forget, forging new memories to fill the gaps between old, but he will remember. Regardless of how many times he tells himself that he has moved on, that the undercurrent of loyalty he feels towards Isabella Swan is simply a hangover from his childhood, the throbbing ache that grows when he listens to her cry and beg and wail is proof otherwise. It is proof that he must close the curtain on this act of his life—on Bella—so that Leah can be assured his heart is hers, and hers alone.

I can't listen to this anymore, Jared declares from behind him. Either you go and finish this for real or so help me God, I will make you suffer.

Alright, alright, Jacob acquiesces, turning his thoughts toward Sam for approval. We've got, what, thirty minutes?

Make it quick, Sam says, focusing on silently urging the rest of the pack to hurry to the clearing in an attempt to hide his disapproval. It doesn't work. We'll be waiting.

Edward is waiting on the far edge of the campsite, statue-still as he waits. Jacob knows there is little point in schooling his thoughts any longer—the bloodsucker has seen and heard it all: his wide-eyed adoration of Bella when she first returned to Forks, his heartbreak after the Cullens' return, the uncomfortable dynamic that now exists between them. Jacob finds a strange sort of relief in being able to think about the approaching conversation with Bella without fearing any judgement.

A luxury that he has gone without all this time.

"Jacob," Edward says cooly, dipping his head in greeting. "Thank you for coming."

Almost didn't, he thinks, his mind still lingering on Leah. Always Leah. This will be the last time.

"I understand. I know that I can't give her everything," Edward says, his pale forehead creasing with worry, "but I can at least try to give her the opportunity to say goodbye."

That's some morbid shit, Paul interjects, drawing what feels like the entire pack's collective ire.

I'm phasing out, Jacob thinks dryly, and you all can get a life.

He hurriedly pulls on his shorts as he follows Edward towards the tent—towards Bella, who may as well be pacing divots into the earth. From the sidelines, Seth watches Jacob approach with cautious eyes, eyes that carry an uncommon hardness that may as well translate to don't you dare hurt my sister.

Jacob inclines his head slightly, making sure Seth catches his gaze so the kid can hopefully read the unspoken words lingering between them.

"Bella," Edward murmurs. "There's a bit of a complication with the timing. I'm going to take Seth a little ways away and try to straighten it out. I won't go far, but I won't listen, either. I know you don't want an audience, no matter which way you decide to go."

"Hurry back," Bella whispers, craning her neck to kiss him.

The sight doesn't sting Jacob the way it used to.

That, at least, is a comfort.

The moment Edward is gone, Bella spins around, her brown eyes alight with a wild gleam of desperation, not unlike a cornered animal. For Jacob, it feels like a lifetime ago that those eyes conjured a feeling stronger than pity within him, that he had looked into those eyes and seen a crystal-clear future on the other side.

Now, those eyes could belong to anybody.

"I'm in a hurry, Bella. Why don't you get it over with? Just say the words, and be done with it," he says evenly, meeting her startled gaze head-on.

"I'm sorry I'm such a rotten person," she whispers, her cheeks flushed pink from the icy frost. "I'm sorry I've been so selfish. I wish I'd never met you, so I couldn't hurt you the way I have. I won't do it anymore, I promise. I'll stay far away from you. From the pack. I'll move out of the state. You won't have to look at me ever again."

"What if that's not what I want you to apologise for? What if I'd rather you stayed—here, with us? Don't I get any say in this?" he hisses, feeling the tell-tale lick of heat tingling at his spine.

"Staying won't change anything, Jake," Bella says, her eyes welling with tears. "It's not going to get better. I'll just keep hurting you. I don't want to hurt you anymore. I hate it."

"Then change!" he argues impatiently, his temper quickly flaring despite Seth's warning rumble. "You know what really hurts? Knowing that you're choosing him, that you're choosing for Charlie to plan a funeral, choosing to give up on your entire future in exchange for a ring. That's not you, Bella."

Her mouth gapes open and shut like a fish. "You know?"

Jacob scoffs bitterly. "You told Quil last week—did you really think he wouldn't tell me? He's my best friend. We don't keep secrets."

Bella shakes her head, the tears flowing steadily down her cheeks. "Jacob, I'm begging you. Stay with me. I don't want you to fight."

"You want me to stay for fifteen minutes while I miss a good brawl? So that you can run away as soon as you think I'm safe again? You've got to be kidding."

"I won't run away," she pleads, her face contorted into an expression that he's seen before—the same one she made in the garage, the moment right before she kissed him. "I've changed my mind. We'll work something out, Jacob. There's always a compromise."

Jacob scrubs a hand across his face. "We can't compromise on this. I'm done fighting."

Bella nods vigorously. "We don't need to fight. You know that I love you, Jacob."

"Stop. Don't say anything else," Jacob commands, taking a step away from her. "I've made this much harder for you than I needed to. I should have given up with good grace in the beginning and listened to Leah when she told me to let go. But I thought I could make you change . . . I was just too blind to see that you didn't want to."

"No—Jake, you were right," she breathes, her hands extended as if to grab onto him. "You're more than just my friend. That's why it's so impossible to tell you goodbye—because I love you, much more than I should. I can see it, if I stayed—I can see years passing, I can see us happy together. We could have that."

"No," he says simply, feeling a strange sense of peace amidst the conflict. "I love Leah. I love her. And whether you put on his ring or leave him, it won't change anything. It won't change my mind."

Bella is silent for a moment, watching him, studying his face like she is searching for something. Perhaps in an alternate timeline, there would have been a version of himself that would have fought for her—that would have held on hard when things felt impossible, pressed closer when everybody else was screaming at him to let go—but this is not that universe.

In this universe, he is as much Leah's as she is his.

He is done.

"Anything," Bella calls after him as he strides towards the trail. "I'll do anything you want, Jacob. Just don't do this!"

"Put on the ring, Bella," he says.

He doesn't turn back.

Took your time, Sam comments tersely as Jacob enters the clearing. We've got five minutes, if that.

Sorry, Jacob offers, settling into position at Sam's right flank. God, they reek.

Perks of being downwind, Jared comments. Alice still thinks there will be twenty. Half of them should come our way pretty soon.

It is impossible to settle as they wait for the approaching army, crouched low on their haunches, prepared to spring at the first sign of glimmering diamond skin. It doesn't matter that they have discussed the plan a million times—both with and without the Cullens—because planning does little to quell the undercurrent of anxiety rippling through the pack, apprehensive at the notion of facing their most dangerous opponent yet.

We've done this before, Sam thinks. Stick to the plan, stay together, and don't do anything stupid.

Yeah, you don't need any more grey hairs, Quil taunts, earning a nip at his flank from Jared. Okay, okay. Serious faces on.

It hits them all at once, the sickly stench of bloodsuckers, rolling over the clearing like a storm cloud. They've handled solo vampires before, a pair at most, but the sight before them is unlike any other.

The first leech darts through the scrub like a rocket, barrelling directly towards them like a heat-seeking missile—

Hardly a thought has to pass between them, not when they are adrenaline-soaked and operating off pure instinct. Sam lunges, his jaws closing around its neck with a tremendous snap. Paul is on its hind quarters in a flash, ripping and tearing and blanketing the long grass with a layer of shredded granite. In mere seconds, the first of the horde has been disposed of, tipping the collective mood from wavering to warlike.

Two o'clock, Quil declares, bolting towards his target with Jared in close pursuit. Shit, she's turning—

Got her, Jared snarls, feinting left then right in a lightning-fast manoeuver.

They're going for Bella's trail, Sam barks, snapping his jaws at one of the larger newborns, narrowly avoiding its vicious grip. Jacob, get her legs.

Embry streaks behind them in a flash of brown, seizing a fleeing vampire by its arm, its limbs quickly scattering across the clearing. It's pandemonium—wolves and newborns and carnage everywhere; they work on instinct, drawing on their preternatural awareness of each other to fight in tandem, disassembling their foes as quickly as they appear. The newborns may be strong, but the pack are fast; even so, the vampires aren't entirely useless, dashing and darting and dancing around their attacks, though they are yet to leave the clearing in search of Bella.

Push them toward the Cullens, Sam orders, pouncing on Paul's latest attacker. Drive them south.

We've almost got them, Jacob objects, tearing a leg free. We can finish it here.

Help me split these two, Quil urges, feinting as the larger vampire lunges for him. Don't let them pair up!

I make the call. Push them south, now, Sam growls, rounding on Jacob.

It happens in the blink of an eye—Jacob focuses on Sam for the briefest moment, his lip curling at the thinly veiled aggression in the Alpha's tone—when Embry makes the snap decision to pursue a lone vampire that lingers in the treeline, already frozen low in a crouch.

Jacob whirls, his claws digging into the earth as he hurtles towards Embry, powerless to do anything except watch his brother toy with the newborn, gnashing his teeth and tearing out chunks of its granite skin.

Embry, stop—

I've got it—

—fall back, now!

Watch the arms—

Shit, it's going to—

Jacob collides with Embry in seconds, his body smashing into his brother's with all the force of a speeding truck. Embry ricochets towards the clearing, towards the approaching pack, but the momentum is just enough to knock Jacob off-kilter for a second, momentarily stunned by the impact.

He's dizzy—that's all it is, a standard knock to the system—and he scrambles for purchase on the ground, staggering as he rights himself on four legs, but a second is all the newborn needs. A second to descend upon him instead.

Sam, he's going to—

Move, Paul!

Jake!

And then, all at once:

Silence.