"What are you-"

"I'm not-"

"The fuck-"

Chief Swan waves his hands, effectively silencing the group. "Just come with me, please. We can sort this out at the station."

Lex can feel everyone's eyes on her. The party's gone silent - no music, no laughter - replaced by stunned expressions and hushed whispers. It's too much, too much at once, and so she does the only thing that makes sense.

She leans forward and pukes on Chief Swan's immaculately polished work boots.

He leaps back a second too late, emitting a strangled groan of disgust. She can feel a warm palm rubbing her back, coaxing the last of the nausea out of her, but it's no good. The whole situation is sickening, really; knowing the confrontation that's about to occur is enough to keep her retching.

"Charlie, she's in no state to go with you," Sue says worriedly, her usual jovial expression pulled into a frown.

Sue's right - she's piss drunk and on the edge of hysteria, but it doesn't matter to Charlie.

"I need to bring her in, clear it up so we can close the file. I'll make it quick," he promises gruffly.

Lex glances up at him from her hunched position on the linoleum. "Can I bring Embry at least? Please," she adds as he frowns.

Between her distress and the man's protective stance over her, it doesn't seem as if Chief Swan has a choice, and so he nods sharply.

"Fine. Let's go," he urges, bristling at the harsh glare Embry sends him. "I'm doing you a courtesy, young man, don't get snippy with me."

There's scowls all around as Chief Swan leads them out of the party. Lex thinks she's about to cry - she didn't want this, she never wanted this, and now all of her family issues are rolling out in front of everyone in a huge spectacle. Embry's palm resting on her lower back is the only thing keeping her upright, but she doesn't dare look back at him. He'll need an explanation, the full story, and that's something she just isn't prepared to give. He's patient though, gripping her hand tightly in the backseat of the cruiser as La Push disappears around them. Chief Swan says she isn't in trouble, they're just needing to clear things up, but being in the backseat of a cop car doesn't help dispel her shame.

Embry must be able to sense her fear, somehow; he whispers reassurances to her as they drive, reminding her to breathe slow and deep, promising that he'll look after her. He doesn't seem to be angry, not yet, but it'll come. It always does.

The first growl comes when Chief Swan yanks the passenger door open, gesturing for her to hurry. They look over at him, perplexed, but he only clears his throat, scowling back at the Chief.

"Inside, please, Miss McKinley," Chief Swan orders, trailing closely behind her. He's determined to ignore Embry, but he hadn't counted on Embry's persistence to not be forgotten. He's a single step behind the girl at all times, watching her like a hawk for any sign of need. Odd.

Deputy Mike has the father posted up in a rarely used interview room at the back of the station. The man had come in like a whirlwind, his scraggly hair on end and dirt smeared across his nose. One look at the fellow had him expecting something banal, perhaps a traffic complaint, but he'd started talking, his story jumbled and frantic, and they'd urged him into a private room to calm him down. Eventually he had given them a name, one that was strangely unfamiliar to the officers - they knew everyone - and a tangled narrative to unpack. It seemed to Chief Swan like some tired domestic that he'd seen play out time and time again - troubled run-away, frustrated parent - but they were obliged to investigate once the complaint had been filed, and so he made a few calls.

The usual suspects were of no help - Alexandria who? - but then he had heard from Billy that Jacob was back in town, and Jake was a straight-shot to the youth on the Reservation. He'd called Jacob as soon as the clock struck eight the next morning, spending a little longer than he should on the pleasantries. It should have been Jacob that married Bella, he thought for the umpteenth time, idly picturing the son-in-law he could have had. That was beside the point. The point? His hunch was right; Jacob had immediately known who he was looking for - Alexandria? No, we call her Lex - and had even tipped him off about who she spent her time with. Charlie had passed it off as routine checks on newcomers, and a quick change of topic had allowed the questioning to slip off Jake's radar, something that Embry would furiously argue over later.

It was pure luck that the wedding was on that same day - he'd been invited, of course, he'd be by Sue's side permanently if he could - though he did admit it was poor form to attend a reception on police business. Still, duty called, he had told himself, chasing away the lingering thoughts of impropriety. He'd close the case, send the father home, and it would be all over with. They'd file Lex under the disobedient youth category, like the Mallory girl, or even his own daughter. He has no qualms about leading Lex into the interview room, though he wishes the young man would remain outside. He's asked him, twice, but Embry'd only replied with a strange guttural sound that inexplicably produced goosebumps on his own skin.

And so he leads the pair into the room silently, gesturing at the rigid metal chairs for them to take a seat. Deputy Newton had waited with the father for their arrival - the kid was hopeless at interviewing, and it would be months before he'd be allowed to manage any case more serious than a parking infringement. The father stands as soon as the solid door swings shut - Hubert McKinley, he reminds himself, call him Hubert. Before Charlie even has a chance to speak, Hubert's flooding the silence with words forced from his raspy throat.

"Alexandria, sweetheart, you have to understand I did this because I had to. You gave me no choice. You simply aren't capable of being here on your own."

Chief Swan turns to look at Lex, studying her for any kind of emotion. He expects tears, maybe, perhaps some anger, but there's only a blank resignation in her eyes.

Embry scoffs, the noise loud and grating. "Seriously? She's more than capable," he grinds out through clenched teeth, curling an arm protectively over her shoulders.

Any hope Chief Swan has for reconciliation is fading quickly, chased away by the developing tension between the two men. If Embry's furious, Hubert is livid, if the mottled purple flush emerging from beneath his collar was of any indication.

"Who do you think you are to tell me what my daughter can and cannot do? This is a private matter. This," he says, gesturing wildly between himself and Lex, "doesn't concern you." He rounds on Chief Swan, directing him with a stony gaze. "Please, remove him from the room. He isn't welcome here."

Embry moves to interject, his mouth dropping open in apparent outrage, but stops as Lex reaches across to grip his hand. He falls silent instead, looking to her for direction. Whatever passes between them is entirely inscrutable to Chief Swan, but it's enough to make her speak, finally turning to face her father.

"Embry is staying because I want him to. I'm more than fine on my own. I'm here, in Forks, because I want to be. I don't want to be in Beaver." Her voice is flat, eerily monotone and measured, entirely unlike her disposition at the party.

The bulging vein on Hubert's darkening forehead throbs dangerously. "That's not your decision to make. You've had your time away, but now it's time to come home. We can go to your apartment and collect some things before we leave," he says, slowly, as if speaking to a child.

She shakes her head slightly. "No."

Hubert moves to grab his keys from his pocket. "You don't want to keep anything? Your room is how it's always been, you won't need much."

"No, I meant no as in no, I'm not coming back. I'm staying here. I'm an adult now, and this is my choice. I don't want to do this anymore."

Hubert stands abruptly, his chair rocketing back into the wooden panelling. There's a sudden metallic screech that makes Chief Swan cringe, and when he looks up again he's positively certain that there's about to be a fistfight in Interview Room 2. In the handful of seconds that have passed, Embry has darted across the room to lean over Hubert, stalking him until he's pressed against the wall with nowhere to go. Chief Swan leaps up, too, crossing the room with one hand against his holster. God, this wasn't how tonight was supposed to go, he thinks, shooting a scowl at the Newton kid who remains immobile in the plastic chair. Absolutely hopeless.

"You stay away from her unless she contacts you first. What she wants, she gets, and she wants to be here. Got it?" Embry spits, sneering down at the older man.

He's towering above him, with one burly arm pressed above Hubert's head, and Chief Swan has to hand it to him - he'd probably be as terrified as the old geezer if he was in the situation. The man is inhumanly big, eerily similar to Jake, and though Billy swears there's nothing untoward going on out there, part of him suspects that isn't quite the case. It's enough to give him pause at the very least - he's not too thrilled about having to break up the situation - but judging by Hubert's bulging eyes and heaving chest, time may just be of the essence.

"Mr Call, step back, immediately," he grunts, enunciating his words purposefully.

He lingers for a beat longer, staring at Hubert as if willing his eyes to burn through flesh, but eventually complies. Realistically, his compliance probably has more to do with Lex begging him to let go, but in Chief Swan's eyes, a win is a win. Hubert, suddenly free, slumps down to squat against the wall, huffing laboured breaths as he does.

Chief Swan pinches the bridge of his nose. What a fucking Saturday. "Deputy Newton, accompany Hubert across the hall to Medical. You two," he says, pointing at the odd pair, "can stay with me."

Deputy Newton, a little green around the gills, nods, offering Hubert a tentative hand to his feet. Newton shakes his arm free as soon as the man is steady - typical - leading the way with a choice gap between them. Chief Swan says nothing until the door seals closed with a decisive click.

"Miss McKinley, Mr Call, sit down. I have some questions for you, Miss McKinley, about the nature of your relationship with your father. You are not in trouble, but you may make a phone call if you would like. You are not required to disclose anything."

She nods slightly, her eyes still misty with tears. The proper thing to do would be to send her home - she's drunk, after all - but quite frankly, he wants to boot Hubert from town as quickly as possible. The last thing he needs right now is some demanding, ruddy-faced stranger loitering in the lobby of his otherwise peaceful station, and a decisive statement from her will be enough to move him on. He doesn't bother addressing Embry, whose eyes haven't left Lex since the moment she pulled him away from her father.

"What do you want to know?" she asks softly.

Chief Swan pauses for a moment. "I have questions about your relationship with your father that may be upsetting. Are you happy to proceed with Mr Call present?"

She nods.

"I need you to state your consent, please."

Lex clears her throat. "Yes, I consent to questions with Embry present."

"I'm going to ask you some questions about things that may have happened a long time ago. I need you to tell me everything you remember. Don't leave anything out, even if you think it isn't important. Do you understand?"

Another nod. He grabs his notebook and a pen from his coat pocket, turning to a fresh page.

"Tell me what you think you are here to talk to me about."

She looks down at her lap, fingers tightly entwined with Embry's. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.

"I think that...I think that maybe you think my father hurts me. It's not like that, at all, I swear. He's always been good to me. Sometimes I just do the wrong things, and then he has to be harsh. We do better when I'm away," she says, her voice cracking.

"You said that sometimes you do the wrong thing. Can you tell me more about that part?"

"Sometimes I'd go out and not come home when I should, or I'd hide things and lie about it. I didn't tell him I was leaving until the cab arrived to collect my bags. He was right to be upset with me. I'm not a good person."

"Can you tell me more about the part when you left Beaver?"

Lex sobs, loud and jarring in the quiet of the interview room. Embry clasps her hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over her knuckles again and again until a sliver of composure reappears.

"I'm sorry, I'm not good at this," she mumbles, her voice thick with her tears.

She's too drunk - he should call this off, have her return tomorrow, sober and ready to disclose -

"That was the last time he made me bleed."

They have to take a short recess after that. Chief Swan makes a note to request sturdier chairs in his next purchase order.

When they resume, it's just him and Lex alone in Interview Room 2. Mr Call has to be escorted outside by a fellow from the Reservation who had shown up sometime after they'd arrived, leading Embry away with a firm hand on the shoulder. Lex is reluctant to speak at first, continuously circling back to her repeated assertions that she was a bad person. And maybe she was; maybe she was a pain in the proverbial. Still, he imagined Bella in the seat across from him, sniffles and sobs punctuating each sentence, and he found himself wanting to dig more and more into her story. All he needed was some concrete harm, something tangible that he could use to bar Hubert from town. He could manage that.

Chief Swan calls time after an hour of interviewing. He'll need to call her back to clarify some parts of her statement for the court order, but she's given him enough to work with in the meantime. She's done all that she can, anyway: her eyes are bloodshot and red-rimmed, her face ashen under the harsh fluorescents. Enough time in the hot-seat would make even the strongest of people uncomfortable, he muses, watching her with careful eyes. She remains frozen in place until Chief Swan snaps the spiral bound notebook closed, rising from his seat. Lex mirrors his actions, but there's a blankness in her eyes that concerns him. It'll be worth it, he silently vows as he leads her into the foyer, I'll make sure of it.

There's a small crowd assembled in the foyer, a hodgepodge of overdressed people that appear better suited to a ball than a late-night police station jaunt. He's forced to leap out of the way as he leads Lex around the corner, narrowly avoiding a collision with a tiny lady that's all smeared eyeliner and crinkled taffeta. Chief Swan rubs his head as he surveys the scene, eyes flickering across the faces in search of someone familiar. Finally, he spots Jacob, his face uncharacteristically stern. He remembers Jake as a young boy, a happy-go-lucky ray of sunshine in hand-sewn denim overalls, the kind of kid that never went anywhere without a smile. He can count the similarities between that kid and the man before him on one hand.

"During the wedding, Charlie? Really?"

The disappointment in his husky voice cuts deeper than Charlie will ever admit.

"Don't question things you don't understand, Jacob," he grunts, suddenly wishing he was elsewhere.

"Don't give me that. She's one of us - you don't get to take her away, not when it's late and she's drunk. Next time you want to speak to her, you call me. Got it?" he barks, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Jacob sounds more like Billy than he's ever noticed, a rumbling sort of authority that Charlie could never challenge. The last thing he wants to do is concede to Jake - why the hell should Jake call the shots? - but the animalistic gleam in his eye gets the better of him.

"I will call you tomorrow. You can take her home now," he says, turning to disappear into the depths of the building before Jake can reply.

It's the only chance he has at maintaining a shred of control over the situation.

She doesn't speak until they're crossing the Bogachiel River, the tires crunching over the ruined bitumen.

"He isn't a bad guy," she whispers, staring out the window at the trees.

"Okay," Kim says simply. There isn't much else to say. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not at all."

And so they don't talk. They stay up until dawn, blasting obnoxiously loud music and combining whatever ingredients they can find in Kim's fridge into a strange buffet of flavours until Lex starts to believe that things are going to be okay. She's halfway through a peanut butter dipped pickle when there's a quick rap on the screen door, immediately followed by the telltale squeak of the hinges. Before either of them can rise from the couch, there's footsteps treading down the hall, solid and threatening, almost as loud as the blood rushing in her ears.

"It's probably just Jared," Kim whispers unconvincingly.

Lex doesn't point it out, but they're both all too aware of Jared's lithe panther-like gait. He could be behind her, right now, and she wouldn't know.

(She checks. He isn't).

Lex is torn between screaming bloody murder and making a break for the winding forest trail in the backyard when the padding footsteps finally pause at the living room door. The morning glow casts a long shadow on the living room wall, the kind she'd invent with a flashlight under the covers when she was a kid. She has to squint to make out their details in the dim light of dawn, staring for a little too long before she can place the person.

"Leah?"

A/N: Surprise little shorty to tide y'all over until I can write something more substantial. Thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter! Would love to know what you think of this one :)