"Jake," I whispered urgently as I opened his door. "What are you doing?" It was about eleven at night. Paul had passed out on our couch about a half hour ago and Dad was still at the Ateara's. I was busy cleaning the house up after the whirlwind of humanity that passed through it today post-battle, when I heard a bang and crash come from Jake's room.
Carlisle stopped by after we all ate dinner to check-in. He warned me – as Brady had earlier – that when Jake woke up he was going to be stoned. But of course, Carlisle phrased it as 'being in a mild to moderate state of confusion and or euphoria' with his tight-lipped smile. I nodded a knowing gesture.
I had been through this before. Jacob after his wisdom teeth over Christmas break last year had been an absolute trip. Of course, that was pre-shift and it only lasted about an hour.
Earlier today he was covered in braces – because plaster just didn't make sense – and pale and knocked out. Apparently, Bella had been by while I was outside with Paul – a fact the rest of the pack had kept from me until later that evening. Long after the bitch was back in Forks. I had absolutely no conception as to why she would be here. It was her and her stupid 'family' that had brought this upon all of us.
I don't know how she showed her face here. And though I was still keeping myself from interfering I was not about to let her cause a rift in my home. Over my dead body. The Cullens were back. She was back to dating the scumbag that broke her heart and left her to die in the woods. I saw no reason, whatsoever, for her to continue to be acting the way she did around my brother. It's like she didn't know how to be friends with him and she certainly wasn't going to take it ay further. She needed to make damn decision before I snapped her pretty little neck.
Her twisted game of tug-o-war was starting make me sick. I shook the sickening thoughts of the scrawny brunette from my head. When I heard the loud crash I assumed Jake was up and doing something ridiculous. A glance through his door revealed that he was – in fact – stumbling haphazardly around his small room looking for… something?
"Raaaaaaaaachel!" he half shouted half sang upon seeing me.
I tried to shush him as I slipped fully inside his room. "What are you doing?" I repeated as I made my way towards him.
"I am looking forrrrr," he paused here. He facial expression indicated that he was either confused or his train of thought had just derailed. Or both. "Uh. I'm looking forrrrrrrr…"
"Something to eat? Something to drink?" I attempted to jog his memory.
"That would be aaaaaaaawesome," he replied his face lighting up as he wobbled slightly. I don't really think that he had been actively seeking food but anything I could do to keep him from waking the whole neighborhood. "Do you think we have any Doritos?"
I checked my watch and noted that it was past Carlisle's 'no-food' ordinance. But I also didn't think Doritos would be advisable. "Look, just… get into bed? You're still healing. I'll get you some food."
"I can do it!" he informed me obstinately. "I can… I can take on a bunch of the living dead and you won't let me get my own foooooooood?"
"No. Now, be quiet." I gently guided him – as he was stubbornly insisting on doing everything himself – back to his bed and he only crashed into the bedpost once. I was surprised he didn't bust the thing clear off. My brother was kind of a beast now and I wouldn't have been surprised. I was in the process of making sure he actually made it down to the bed when he stopped.
"What?" I hissed.
"Youuuuuu are so short."
For the love of God.
"I'm not short, Jacob. You're a circus freak." He proceeded to stand up to his full six feet seven inches. He held one of his arms out at shoulder height. He twisted around and his tree limb of an arm swung a good several inches above my own head.
"Haaaaaalf piiiiiiiint," he said as he started giggling. Yes. My brother at six feet seven inches tall and a couple hundred pounds was giggling. I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or smash my head against the bedpost.
I was 5'9" myself. I really was not that short. I was grumbling to myself as I finally left his room. I opened the fridge and dug through some of the leftovers Emily had been kind enough to bring over. I finally decided that pasta was a good place to start. Better than Doritos anyways.
I noticed Paul starting to stir – due in part to Jake's singing from his room. I headed into Jake's room hoping to quiet him before he woke anyone else up. I nudged the door open with my hip as I held his plate of pasta in one hand and a drink in the other.
"Bennnnnay! Bennnnnay! Bennie and the Jets!" I'll give him credit, I told him to stay in bed – and he was – and he was mostly in tune with his rendition.
"Excuse me? Elton John? I have some food for you." I moved onto his bed to prevent any excuse for his leaving it. I sat up, with my back against the wall and he mimicked the posture. He was actually calm and more fluid in his movements now that he was sitting and eating.
"Feeling any better?" I asked quietly. He nodded as he ate. "Good." I hadn't realized how tired I really was. In that moment a huge yawn wracked my body. I slumped further against the wall and leaned my head against Jake's warm arm.
"Take a break, sis," Jake said. For a moment I was shocked because he actually spoke quietly. And lucidly.
I sat there with Jake for a while, huddled into his warmth and just enjoying the feeling of being relaxed. In addition to my exhaustion I hadn't noticed how tense I was. Jacob seemed to read me rather well – living in a house with two females he'd always been good at picking up moods – and after he finished eating just sat with me. No more spontaneous Elton John covers. No more hobbling around and shouting. He just sat with me. My watch beeped the one o'clock hour and Jake looked at his alarm clock.
"Rachel?" he gently nudged me to see if I was still awake. "Why don't you go get some sleep?"
I nodded in agreement. On my way out, I turned back to say something but Jake beat me to it. "Yeah, yeah. I'll stay in bed. I'm definitely coming down and starting to feel all that pain again. I'm going to sleep. Don't worry."
I just smiled and left. In my living room I crossed and turned the light off near the dark television. From this angle I could see Paul collapsed on my couch. Normally, he looks remarkable peaceful in his sleep. It doesn't matter if he's having a bad day or if he's mad or tense – when he sleeps it's like it all just melts away.
But from the way the light from the moon and the one streetlight streamed into my living room – he looked worried. I stepped quietly over to the couch. He was huge as well but I managed to perch myself on the edge. At this distance I could tell it just wasn't the shadows; he really did look tense.
I wondered if he was dreaming. Or maybe having a nightmare. It made my gut clench within me. I know my small talk with him after the battle hadn't really helped. I honestly had no idea what to do to help him. How could I prove to him that it wasn't his fault that I was in danger? How could I prove that I would live a long time with him? Yes, I suppose that theoretically I could die tomorrow by some freak occurrence or act of God, but he didn't seem to realize that this was only a very remote possibility. And those percentages followed everyone around. Not just me. And in the end, I was certain Paul would never have a hand in my death – no matter how he twisted it in his head.
What worried me the most was what if – years down the line – I did pass away before he did? After today's near-miss I was here to talk him out of his tree. But as I watched Paul's creased brown and firm mouth, I wondered who would be there if I went before him. I didn't ever want him to be sad. I wanted him to be happy.
As I thought, I felt his shoulder shift beneath my touch. I imagine I was disturbing him. Even in his sleep he recognized my presence – I'd borne witness to this phenomenon more than once. He rolled from his side to his back and his other arm ran over his face as he rubbed the sleep away.
He smiled on seeing me. He sat up a bit and lifted his arm, welcoming me. I couldn't help my grin as I hopped over to his other side and settled under his arm. He smelled of soap and cedar and the woods. It was comforting.
"Will you do something for me?" I mumbled into his shoulder, well aware that he heard me.
"Duh," he replied with a half laugh. I knew he would. But I didn't want to order him. I liked to give the guy some free will.
"I always want you to be happy, okay? No matter where life takes us. Separately or together. I don't ever want you to put everything on hold and forget to live. We get this one life and I want you to love it."
"Rach?" he glanced down at me. I didn't miss the concern in his voice.
"Nothing to worry about," I assured him as I laid my cheek against his chest. "Just know that the imprint goes both ways and that if I ever knew you weren't happy, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. Now, promise me."
He thought for a moment. "Under one condition." I looked up towards his face, curious. "You do the same," he elaborated.
"Deal."