Last chapter: Embry sets off to meet Jacob, intent on breaking the imprint bonds that tie the pack together. Lex realises she loves Embry, and he loves her too.
His plan doesn't truly start to crystallise until the wheels of the truck cross the Kitsap County line, slowing to a shuddering stop on the shoulder of the highway. The gravel crunches under the tread just the way he likes, making that satisfying pop-pop-pop that reminds him of clandestine adventures down unsealed roads, nights spent with his favourite person (don't think don't think don't think), but he's only half-hearing the noise. Things feel different already, he muses, rolling the window down to let the cool breeze seep in. Maybe it's the distance, or the blissful silence, but he already feels lighter: his shoulders less slumped, his headache diminished to a dull throb. Here on the highway he's surrounded by an enthralling sense of newness, the sort that leaves his skin prickling with anticipation, as if the cells are begging him to press on. Even so, he hasn't a single clue of where to find Jacob, especially without his supernatural senses at his disposal - phasing is still a definite no, as helpful as it would be - and so a phone call is a must.
The phone rings three, four, five times, and just as he's starting to dread the all too familiar voicemail, the receiver crackles into life.
"Hello?"
Embry releases a tense breath, adjusting his death grip on the cell. "Jake. It's me. Where are you?"
"Uh, Port Orchard. Same place as always. Why?"
"No, no," Embry rushes out, shaking his head as if Jacob could see. "Where in Port Orchard? I'm coming to see you."
The line grows awfully silent for a terse few moments. "What's going on, Em?" Jacob asks slowly, almost carefully, as if he dreads the response.
He should.
"I'll explain when I get there. Where can I meet you? Just you, too, if you can swing it."
He can almost see the way Jacob's lips are pressed together, smoothed into a disgruntled expression totally reminiscent of his father. Sam's a decent interim Alpha, but he'll never possess the natural command that Jacob exudes.
Jake will be a fantastic Chief one day.
When everything is different.
Finally, Jacob sighs, though he's not entirely able to conceal his irritation. "Got a pen? Write this address down. I can meet you there in thirty."
Embry scrawls the directions down wordlessly on a discarded Subway napkin, trying not to let his thoughts race ahead.
It's just a meeting.
It won't change anything.
It can't.
Still, his heart is telling him otherwise, and that's the problem.
Jake's forty-five minutes late to the bowling alley. Embry painstakingly counts every minute as it passes by, his eyes flickering to the neon digits on his dashboard more times than he can recall. Time's slipping by, just like the sun's dipping low on the horizon, and for a long while he's positively convinced that Jake's bailing on him. He never has, not since the first few weeks of phasing when Embry had been the odd one out, but the thought of a no-show is still too troubling to dismiss. It's only when Jake peels into the lot, edging his mud-striped Chevy Tahoe into the faded lines on the blacktop, that Embry really lets himself believe that it's happening.
From the very moment that Jake slides out of the truck, Embry can feel himself snapping to attention, his back rigid, muscles taut. The Alpha pull is too strong to resist - if Lex is a fishing magnet, Jake's the freaking sun, and Embry's just a hapless planet being pulled into orbit. He's keenly aware of every minute change in Jake's demeanour, from the slight furrow in his brow to the way his fingers curl into loose fists. Pacing over to Jake's car, falling into step with the taller man's stride, is as easy as breathing. Just like it always has been, as if Jake had never left, as if they were normal and the imprints and the supernatural race war had never happened.
Despite it all, some things never change.
Jake claps him on the back with the sort of force that leaves even a hulking shape-shifter stumbling, greeting him like old times, but the shadow in his gaze cuts Embry's relief short.
"What's wrong?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. Sure, Embry's not nearly as intuitive as Jake, but even a fool can tell that intensely narrowed eyes plus folded arms equals A Very Bad Mood.
Jake's steely gaze doesn't falter. "You tell me. Since when do you drive all the way out here? What happened to four legs?"
There must be something pitiful in Embry's expression, or perhaps it's the uncomfortable way he's holding himself, because Jake reaches across the gap to place a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Whatever it is, we can fix it. Let's go in," he says, nodding towards the decrepit building across from them. "Challenge you to a game - just like high school, except I'll be winning this one," he teases, with the shadow of a smile peeking through his stormy expression.
"How long until you have to get back?" Embry asks, dreading the answer as soon as he speaks. He can't remember the last time he's felt so insecure, like a child dangling off their mother's leg on the first day of Kindergarten, and it weirds him out.
Jake shakes his head, glancing away for a brief moment. "I'm...uh...taking the day off. We've got time."
He strides ahead into the alley, standing a head and shoulders above the rest, but his usual machismo is missing. Between the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks and his ashy complexion, he looks totally and utterly drained, beyond even what Embry remembers of the early days of Renesmee. Those whirlwind first months, the inordinate stress of watching the love of your life birth your half-breed betrothed - your natural enemy, no less - was sure to wreak havoc on anyone's psyche, but he'd taken it on the chin with a cocksure little smirk. After all, he was Jacob Black - the most stubborn son-of-a-bitch Embry had ever met. If anyone was up for the fucked-up task, it had to be him. And sure, in the years that followed, Jake had stepped up to the plate with an admirable amount of confidence that Embry could only wish for in his anxiety-ridden nights, but even that wasn't enough to stop Jake melting into the ghost of a man he once knew. The darkened rings encircling his black eyes are a testament to a different sort of exhaustion, the kind that never lets up, and of the entire pack, Embry never expected Jacob to fall victim to it.
Embry watches as the cashier takes Jake's wad of bills with a trembling hand, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the archaic register keyboard. He slides two tickets across the bench without glancing upwards once, gesturing abruptly towards the shoe rack before turning to the next customer. Sure, Jake's impossibly imposing, what with his ridiculous physique -okay, he'll admit they're both a little scary- but normally his beaming, playful grin would be enough to offset it. Even thinking back to Sam and Emily's wedding, he can't remember the last time Jake's really, truly smiled. Hell, the ferocious scowl he'd sported the night of the police station still looms heavy in his memories, sandwiched between flashes of bland stoicism completely at odds to his old lively persona. The old Jake is gone, left behind somewhere in the summer of 2006, and all that remains is a faint recollection of sunnier times.
Embry floats through the motions - lacing his ugly bowling shoes, three sizes too tight, choosing a speckled orange bowling ball, setting up the lane - without really registering any of it. He's too busy watching Jake, studying him for any sign of levity. All he needs is one tiny spark, the littlest pointer towards happiness - hell, he'd even settle for calmness - and he can throw Lex's plot away without a second thought. If Jake is okay with his life, with the imprint, then he can walk away from Port Orchard with the assurance that contentedness is possible. The cursory glances Jake sends him in between lacing up and bowling his first strike (effortless, as usual) makes it blindingly obvious that he knows something is up, something's wrong, but still, they don't speak.
Embry rolls a pathetic gutter ball.
He turns to pace back to the uncomfortable plastic seat, but Jake's right behind him, bowling ball effortlessly tucked under his bulging left arm.
"Go again. Roll a strike and I won't grill you."
Talking may have been the reason he came to Port Orchard, but the thought of actually letting the treacherous words leave his mouth makes his belly ache in strange and unfamiliar ways. He's not sure if it's the piercing gaze or the commanding undercurrent that Jacob's words carry, but he reaches for the ball as if mesmerised. His arm shakes as he lowers his stance, readying himself to bowl.
It's only a strike.
He's done it plenty of times before.
It's only Jake.
He draws back, trying to muster even the faintest sense of composure, but he can't hide the way his hand quakes as he follows through.
Gutter ball.
Jake sighs, rubbing thick fingers across the bridge of his nose with alarming force. His eyes close for a moment, but the flash of discomfort is too obvious to be concealed. Embry winces, feeling the regret bloom in his stomach, an alarming pang of I should have never come that twists like a dagger. It's too late to turn back, though: the wheels have been set in motion, and Embry cannot help but continue forward, propelled by some invisible force. Is it duty? Obligation? Loyalty? The same forces driving him to destroy what he knows are the exact same as those that tie him to his home, his life, and denying that feels akin to a slap in the face. His fingers curl in the too-small holes of the next ball, wishing he could just bowl his problems away.
High school was a lifetime ago, but some things never change.
"So, what's the crisis? You got puppies on the way?"
The ball narrowly misses Embry's toes, instead leaving a sizeable little divot in the worn wood of the alley. He retrieves the quickly escaping ball with a muffled fuck, but Jacob's yet to crack a smirk.
"I'm serious, Em. What's so bad that you couldn't tell me over the air? Shit, it's not dad, right?" he frowns, moving his hand instinctively to the phone in his jeans pocket.
"No, no, Billy's fine. Still scamming Sue for fish fry twice a week, then scrounging off Emily for the rest. Nothing wrong with the old man," he squeezes out of a quickly-tightening throat. "No...It's messy. Lex isn't pregnant."
Jake's brow quirks infinitesimally. "So it's about her, then?"
Embry frowns. "Kind of, I guess. It starts with her, but it involves Kim, too, and maybe Claire. Renesmee."
He leans forward, immediately alert at the mention of her. "Can you spit it out already? Jesus. Some filibuster." Jake barks out a laugh, but the tension's palpable, and it's quickly dampening Embry's nerve.
"We want to break the imprint. For all of us."
His eyes widen slightly, chocolate awash with a glint of something unfamiliar, before he dissolves into a chortling peal of bitter laughter. "Yeah, good one. You had me going for a second there, dumbass. You dofreaked-out mess pretty well." He shakes his head as he stands, moving towards the ball-return without a second thought.
It's like he's wading through quicksand and the only lifeguard on duty is neck deep in the funnies section of the newspaper. "I'm serious, Jake," he says, but it comes out in a meek little mutter. "You gotta help me."
Slowly, the laughter fades, replaced with an even more unpleasant silence. Jake's eyes scrutinise Embry's expression, searching for any trace of a joke. Finally, he sighs, lowering himself back into the chair. "You know we can't do that."
"We've never tried. Not really."
"And what, you've realised Lex's fucked up, just like us, and you want an out? That's not you, Em, and that's sure as hell not me," he spits, russet skin flushing dark under his collar.
Embry curls his fingers into tight fists, counting his breaths until the tremors subside. "She's not like us. She deserves better than whatever I can give her," he bites out, turning his gaze elsewhere. Instead of looking at Jake, he watches a nearby cluster of people crowded around a rickety plastic table, leaning over a sad little sheet cake.
The group laugh and sway as they belt out a painfully out-of-tune rendition of happy birthday, but the noise is the least of Embry's interest. Instead, he watches the birthday boy, some gangly Mike Newton lookalike, be pulled into a tight embrace by a love-struck girl in a jumper two sizes too big. The way they bask in the affections of their friends, carefree and undaunted by the prospect of public affection, sends bitter sparks of jealousy coursing through Embry's blood.
"Just because you're not like them doesn't mean that you can't love her. You're allowed to care about her. The imprint doesn't make it any less real."
Embry rounds on Jake, feeling equal pangs of envy and fury. "Really, Jake? Is that what you'll tell yourself in ten years once Renesmee's all grown up?"
Jake recoils like he's been slapped, breaking Embry's gaze for an awful moment. "Four years. Carlisle says she'll be an adult in four years."
Embry clearly does a piss-poor job of concealing the abject disgust that crosses his face; Jake's expression crumples into an expression so unguarded that he's instantly transported back to Bella's wedding reception.
When he speaks, it's a near-inaudible mutter. "You really think I want to be with her? She's a fucking child, Embry, even if she can understand quantum freaking mechanics without breaking a sweat. She asked me last week what colour Bella should wear at our wedding. Seven years old, and already planning my funeral," he moans, voice pitching higher and higher as he unravels. "How long until I have to sign my life away for good?"
"You don't have to do it, Jake. We can figure something out," Embry says, willing it to be true. One of them needs to be sure, and Jake's crumpling with every awful second that passes.
Jake's head sinks lower into his hands, his knuckles whitening as he flexes and releases, trying to chase some of the tension away. "I lied to you before," he mutters, curling his arms around himself. "I'm not taking the day off. The Cullens think I've been in La Push since the accident."
Embry's head tilts as he counts the days. "Jake...that was weeks ago. You're not serious."
"I wish I was," he groans, finally lifting his head. His eyes are flushed pink, and with absolute horror Embry realises his best friend is crying. "I can't deal with her, with them, knowing what they want from me. I started with a day away, came down for the wedding, and before I knew it I was disappearing every chance I got. Every time she puts one of those little pictures of us in my head I want to vomit, but it still feels like I'm being ripped to shreds just being here."
"So leave. We can leave together."
Jake levels him with a look of pure agony, like a man burdened with an awful secret he's bound to share. "It's a life sentence. She's got her claws in me, and she's not letting go." He chokes out a bitter laugh, levelling Embry with a look of pure misery. "You know the worst part? I can't ever let my guard down around any of them. Edward would destroy me if he knew I hated her this much."
Embry lifts a palm to rest on Jake's shoulder, wishing he could somehow relieve the pain he's created through this god-awful conversation. "We're going to figure this out. Lex and Kim are looking into the myths already. Even if you don't have her, you have me, and I'm almost as cute."
Jake snickers, crudely wiping away the tears hiding on his lashes. "You'll do for a consolation prize, I guess."
Embry gasps in mock outrage. "Consolation prize? Oh, you wound me," he whines, pouting as Jake laughs.
"Hey, I'd still pick you over Paul any day. Take that as a win," he winks, striding ahead to grab a ball. "Is it insensitive for me to absolutely destroy your bowling record? I think we have a score to settle…"
It's not perfection, but it's a start.
"You have 5 new messages. First message received today…"
Lex skips through the soundbites with little interest, scrubbing over Emily and Sam's messages until the number skips lower and lower. She's fully intent on pressing delete, ignoring the drama for another peaceful hour, when the final message begins to play aloud.
"Hey, uh, it's Seth. Clearwater. You probably realised that, though." He coughs nervously, clearing his throat before speaking again. "I'm sure Emily's already called you, but we can't get a hold of Embry, like at all - no, I'm not freaking her out, shut up - and I kind of wanted you to know that. Can you do some of that freaky imprinting summoning you did ages ago and get him to come back? Quil doesn't want to do his patrol tonight - Jesus, Leah, don't hit me - okay, call me back, bye-".
The last thing Lex hears is a solid thump, the kind of smack that would colour her arm a deep purple for days. Of course, it'll leave nary a scratch on Seth. Little asshole. She toys with the idea of returning his call, and only his - he's been kind to her, and he seems to truly care about Embry, even if he is in league with Sam and Emily. Besides, Seth'd keep a secret all of two minutes, especially with Leah breathing down his neck. Returning his call isn't an option. With that decided, his message is wiped clean from her voicemail, cast off into the void with the simple press of a button.
Seth will understand one day. He'll forgive her.
Sam and Emily, however, are a different story.
Kim's already warned her in no uncertain terms, recounting every detail of their manipulation as if to atone for her past shadiness. Emily may claim to be the unofficial den mother, caring for both the wolves and their human counterparts alike, but there's an unnerving serpentine quality lurking beneath her sugar-sweet demeanour. Gentle encouragement to pursue Embry, to accept his affections with minimal questioning, seems more malicious than benevolent in hindsight. If Emily knew even the half of their plot, Lex would have a one-way ticket to a stern meeting with the tribal Elders.
Lex threads the deadlock. Just in case.
Voicemails aside, she's yet to hear from the one person who matters - the person she'd hoped to guide her every step in this odd and unfamiliar universe. With Kim passed out on the futon, advice is few and far between, especially on the how to hide your involvement in your boyfriend's disappearance matter. Calling screams desperate, and although texting feels clingy, she can't resist typing out a brief message.
They know you're on the lam. Don't phase.
Before her phone can even hit the counter, his reply is buzzing through.
Got it. I think we can turn Jacob. Give me some time.
Time is all she has to give, and even that isn't enough.
He knows shenanigans are afoot well before the truth comes out, without even needing to question Lex. Knowing Embry means knowing the countless shades of his recklessness, his impulsiveness, and still choosing to roll with the punches. Sure, he doesn't know exactly what's gone awry, but that part's not important, not yet. He slips off the Rez without garnering a second look from anyone - and why would they care, after all, he's simply the one who knows nothing, the village idiot. He navigates to her house from memory, following the twisting turns of the Forks roads with practised casualness.
After all, if you appear unaffected for long enough, people will start to believe it.
He parks the Mazda a few houses down, hoping to delay detection for a few crucial minutes. Lex practices avoidance like it's her religion, and a head-start is his only chance to slither in. Taking the project car is essentially waving a smoking gun in the face of his brothers, but they're bound to catch onto him before long. He may as well have a little fun on the way down.
If it were a normal day, he'd take the straightforward route, following the cracked stepping stones all the way up to her front door. If the pack mind is to be believed, there's a spare key tucked behind a loose weatherboard by the doorbell, and she never bothers to bolt the door. Knowing this information and using it are entirely different things, though, and he's no Embry, he thinks, slinking around to survey the back of the house. He can hear her shallow breathing as she paces the hallway, sifting through her voicemails, pausing as Seth's voice rings out into the dead air.
Seth would use the front door like a normal person, he thinks, hesitating only momentarily as he pries off the bathroom window screen. It seems like a good idea - she's preoccupied, he's vaguely in shape, and the opening is just wide enough -
Until his shoulders catch on the frame.
He twists once, twice, trying to wriggle his stuck skin free. After a few moments of struggling, there's slight motion - yes! - and for the briefest of seconds, he thinks he might just be able to press on. Just as he readies himself to propel himself forward, pushing deeper into the house with his feet for leverage, the light snaps on, momentarily blinding him.
If being blinded isn't bad enough, the subsequent shriek is a sufficient penalty.
He blinks a couple of times, trying to readjust his eyes in the sudden brightness. The figure slowly comes into clarity, sharpening into a clear picture of -
"Kim?"
Her shriek cuts off. "Quil? The hell are you doing in the window?"
He opens his mouth to reply, ready to spout off some low-key excuse about needing to talk to Embry - no mention of his suspicions, of course - when he hears Lex's familiar footfalls approaching, only moments before she pokes her head around the door frame.
"Kim, I heard you scream -" she says, pausing to squint at Quil. He's expecting her to berate him, to snap the window shut with a painful thwap, but instead, she smiles.
"Oh, good. Saves me a phone call. You know, my door works just fine."
"You're not...upset I'm here?"
"Why would I be? You're Embry's best friend," she says simply, as if it's plainly obvious.
"Oh."
Kim and Lex have to push and pull and twist in order to remove him from the frame, but he barely pays attention to the sting of the cool metal scraping his skin. No, his mind is squarely focused on his one important discovery: Lex approves of him, likes him, even (okay, that might be a little far) and somehow, that means a lot to him.
Quil forgets to think about his missing friend for the next five minutes.
A/N: Hello! Long time, no see. Thank you for the lovely comments and for the follow/favourites. I'm so excited that the story's grown to 100 follows - thank you! I was hopeful for even ten readers, so I'm more than blown away by all the support. Please know I read and appreciate every review that's left, and they really inspire me to keep writing (hint hint).
Life's been pretty hard lately. I haven't written much in a long while. This chapter is powered by Evermore and time off work (yay). I will try and update again soon, but I'm not sure when. This story will be finished eventually, but I guess it will take longer than I originally thought. Nevertheless, thank you for reading/sticking around, I love y'all so much.