AN: Before I get complaints about this (I'm sure I will), parenthood isn't as great as I'm sure you'd like me to portray it. I'm not a mom myself, but I've seen enough and heard enough from my mother to know it's no picnic. Which is why this chapter doesn't show Kim and Jared at their happiest. Theirs a moment in the beginning which is nice, but then it goes into a more realistic state. A lot of this chapter is based on my reality as a child. My mom kindly told me she had wanted to throw me out the window almost every night because I wouldn't stop crying. I never cared about her saying that, because I understood. Kids aren't easy. So this won't be incredibly idealistic, sorry. As for the names, based on everyone HATING the name Hank (I really like it), it is gone. If you complain about this next one, I give up. Oh well, too bad. It is written. LOL.

Other than my little note, above, thank you so much for your reviews. I will try to update again soon.

Chapter 8: The Blue Jacket

Breathe in for luck
Breathe in so deep
This air is blessed
You share with me
This night is wild
So calm and dull
These hearts, they race
From self-control
Your legs are smooth
As they graze mine
We're doing fine
We're doing nothing at all
My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me
So won't you kill me
So I die happy
- Hands Down by Dashboard Confessional

I pull at her little leg. I try to stretch it out. I'm not doing it roughly, but slowly and softly. She gurgles, and I wonder how much longer her and her brother will be so squished. They're constantly in this curled up manner. Oddly, I'm kinda worried that they're spine will be curved forever if they don't straighten up soon. The doctor says that it's just because they have been in the womb for so long that it will take a bit longer before they uncurl they're body. Still, I worry. I hold onto her foot and stare at its adorableness, which is a word I use to describe my kids about fifty-thousand times a day. They're adorable. There, I said it again. She holds out her arms for me, grasping at air. Aw. I put my face down to hers and touch our heads lightly – we're barely touching. She touches my face and bounces on our bed. But she's so light that it doesn't shake it at all.

I like these kinds of days: quiet ones, where not a whole lot is happening. Just me, Kim and the babies. Right now, I'm just spending some quality time with my daughter. My daughter. I still can't get over the fact that I'm a dad, and sooner than I'd like they'll be dating and leaving me for college. Ugh, just thinking about that depressed me. For now, they were only seven weeks old, and relied on Kim and me heavily. I liked that. They're sole survival depended on me. It was also terrifying, especially in the beginning when we brought them home and looked at one another and asked the question, "Now what?"

Kim had just fed her and the boy, who lay sleeping in his bassinet on the other side of our room. The mother of two was currently downstairs watching TV, during this brief lapse of quiet. Unfortunately, the girl couldn't sleep so I stayed with her. If I had left her alone, she would have started to cry, which would have woken up the boy, which would have been annoying. Unfortunately this baby girl hated sleep. She was up almost all night, every night, crying. Mine and Kim's sleeping patterns were all out of whack. I was only working three times a week since the twins were born, so I was home most of the time.

I should be getting back to work full-time soon. After all, we needed the money. I just couldn't bring myself to leaving Kim home alone with two newborns. I could never concentrate on work, I was always thinking about her and the babies. It left me with a guilty-heavy heart for the whole day while I was away from home. I hated it, so I stayed home. Kim would be getting back to work herself, this fall, in September. She'd get back into teaching at the La Push high school. We'd then have two incomes come in which would be helpful. She took a year off since she found out she was pregnant, much to the dismay of the high school. I could tell they'd be pleased when she'd return. That school was always short on teachers, unfortunately.

After two days at the hospital, Kim was recovering and her voice was coming back to her. She announced with almost her first words that we had to think of new names. I asked her why, and she said that we had only picked two boy ones and now that she had met our son, she had decided that he was not a Joe or a Hank. I was kinda disappointed. Especially since Emily, Sam, Quil, Claire, Embry, Paul, and Rachel all told me that Hank was a boring name. I loved that name. I was a bit disgruntled that everyone was against me on that one, but I let it go, seeing as how Kim agreed with them. Even though, she had let me name one boy and she name the other. I obviously had no choice now. I told her about how the nurse had unknowingly put the name Joanna in my head, and we named our daughter. Claire had gotten so excited that she suggested hundreds of different names for our son. She had told me how she had just finished The Outsiders and had taken quite the liking to the name Sodapop. And if we wanted it we could have it, but she was very serious about naming her own son, one day, Soda. Kim and I kindly said she could have that name. Claire looked a bit relieved at that. We had spent the whole day listening to different names from everyone who had an opinion. We would nod and lie about liking some of the names. It was all overwhelming, having two new babies and a wife who was recovering from a crash. I felt perfectly fine with my injuries. I was healing quicker than Kim, who was still struggling with her right arm.

"How about Jeremy?" Kim had asked me after a long day of different suggestions. The babies were sleeping, thankfully, soundly at the end of her hospital bed.

"Ugh, that's so lame having the twins names both begin with 'J'. Plus, there are too many people in our world whose name begins with a 'J'. Including me," I grumbled, resting my head on her pillow, even though I was sitting in the chair next to her bed.

She laughed lightly. "How about weird name?"

"Weird?" I yawned, feeling exhausted.

"Yeah. Like...Besus," she says.

"What?" I said, shocked by this name. "No way. We might as well just call him Sodapop."

"Or Ponyboy," she joked.

"Even worse," I groaned, touching my forehead to her shoulder. "Well, what does he look like to you?" I wondered.

"On the subject of books...How about Holden?" she mused, sinking further into her bed, dragging me down with her.

"Caulfield? If that's what you want. Although, he ended up being a bit insane, wasn't he?"

"So?" she asked.

"Well, wouldn't that be sort of like paving his road for him. You have to live up to the name, son," I had put on a deep voice for that last sentence.

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'm too tired to think anymore, you decide." Her eyes closed, and I looked up at her feeling a swell of love and pride. She was remarkable in every way.

Suddenly, a new name hit me. "Kirby!" I said loudly. She jumped a bit.

"As in the video game?" she asked.

"No, I didn't even think about that," I said slowly.

"Well you should. Do you want your son to be teased?"

"Well...no. But I think it's cool. We can call him Kirb for short. Yo, Kirb, wassup?" I tried out. She laughed again, amused, but she vetoed it. "Tiberius?"

"No, Star Trek," she insisted. "No Spock, no Chekov, no Sulu...No."

I pouted. "How about Logon?"

"No nerd names."

"Logan is not a nerd name. It's wolverine! Plus, I think it's fitting since I was a werewolf and he might be one," I said.

She stiffened. We had never really thought about the fact that our children could be werewolves. It was disconcerting and we were silenced for a long while.

"Graham?" I asked.

"Cracker," she finished. I laughed, which lightened the mood a bit. "Wesley?"

"And Wes, for short?" I asked slowly. I think I could work with that.

"Yeah," she agreed.

And that was how we had Joanna and Wes. Joanna Kimberly Martin and Wesley Paul Martin. And so they were named. We left the hospital and things have been pretty hectic around here. I mean, there was a lot of sleeplessness going around. Joanna refused to sleep no matter how much we begged and cried, she hated it. We were constantly hesitant and stressed and doubtful. If Joanna didn't cry it'd be simple: they don't do too much you see. At least, Wes does nothing. But all in all, we've fallen into a rhythm that has been quite doable. We take sleep when we can. I mean, Emily has been warning us to just wait until they walk. I can see that being more challenging, but I think I'm ready for it, personally.

It was so quiet in the house, a rare occurance, not before I hear a little whine come from the bassinet; I look at Joanna with my mouth hung open in shock. She only stares back curiously. She is laying in the middle of our king sized bed. I get up slowly, watching her, before turning to pick up the newly awake Wes. I lay him down beside his sister, and they sort of roll into one another, before stopping.

"Maybe I should give you two nicknames? Do parents usually have those for their kids? Like...pet names? Before my dad left your Grandma, your Aunt Jessica and me, I remember he used to call my sister Pumpkin. But that was a while ago, I was only seven...Hmm, what could I call you?" I tickle their feet. Only Wes cracks a smile. Hey, one out of two ain't bad!

I tilt my head to the side, looking for inspiration.

"You kinda look like a duck," I remark, staring thoughtfully at my son. "Duckie? Duck?"

Wes kicked his leg out. Was that a yes?

I turn my attention to Joanna. "And you, sweet child of mine, how about...Ugh, I could barely come up with your given names. I think it's too soon for alternate names. So Duck, you'll be Wes for now," I frown, lying beside them and throwing my arm over their heads, encircling them with my body, staring down at their small, cute faces.

We remained like so, for another twenty minutes before I heard footsteps on the stairs, and soon Kim and her socked feet were standing at the doorway. She looked on at us, her hair messy, her eyes heavy with noticeable bags underneath and her bathrobe open to reveal my boxer shorts and a small tank top. She looked exhausted, but also quite content – which made me grin at her like the idiot I was.

"Hey, join the party!" I said, nodding over to us.

"You guys are a lively bunch, aren't you?" she noted, climbing on the bed, on the kid's other side. The babies mostly just gurgled, with Joanna whining when we didn't pay enough attention to her. Kim tickled her daughter's belly to pacify her for now.

"We're animals," I respond, growling. Kim and the kids jump slightly, looking at me. I'm glad I can still growl like the animal I was, but it was sort of alarming that they looked so nervous about my small noise. "Hey, relax," I tell them, but Joanna cries. "I said relax," I groan, getting off the bed and taking Joanna from Kim and holding her closely to me.

Kim laughed slightly. "I haven't heard you growl in a while." She's amused.

"And I won't ever do that again. Look what happens!" I complain, bouncing Joanna up and down in my large hands.

"Wes seemed to like it," Kim nods to our son who is squirming. I can't tell if he enjoyed it. He's just doing regular baby things. But I guess since he's not crying, that's more to be said than Joanna's reaction.

"Yeah, well, she's mightily pissed off," I grumble, with a spring in my step, walking in circles, making hushing noises. Actually, I've had a lot of practice with this before the babies – Kim needed to be calmed nearly every single night throughout her pregnancy. I have a right to claim the title, "Master of Crying Girls," with a book on the way entitled, "How to Make Them Cry, How to Make Them Hate You and How to Make Them Happy Again." Damn, that's pretty depressing to think about.

I glance over at my wife and son, to find them both fast asleep. How can they sleep when this kid is bawling louder than a pissed off Leah who won't stop yelling at the pack. I slowly exit the room and hurry down the stairs, trying to silence this baby. It being March, I stuffed her into a jacket that looked like it belonged to Wes. I throw open the front door and put the baby in the stroller that sits on the porch. I buckle her up safely, popping into the living room to find a blanket that I toss on her small complaining body. I look around, feeling as if I'm missing something.

"Don't go anywhere!" I tell Joanna, and glance around the area to see if anybody is around. They aren't so I race upstairs to my sleeping two, and place pillows all around Wes, just in case. I bound down the stairs, put my jacket on and close the front door where Joanna is kicking and punching the air in fits of tears. "Okay, okay, we're walking."

She was quite the crier. Every single night either I or Kim would sit up with her as we begged of her to sleep, with tears of our own pouring down our cheeks. Wes was a God send child, who loved to resthis eyes and be quiet. Joanna was hand delivered by the devil himself.

I got the stroller easily enough down the stairs, and began pushing it down the street. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I would keep walking until she shut up. From what I could tell, my feet were leading me to the garage. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I figured I'd just stop by to see Embry and Quil. I see a man walking his dog on the other side of the road, look up at us, cringing at my baby's crying. I'm cringing too, buddy! And I have to live with it!

"Come on," I beg her. "Please, be quiet for daddy. Please, Joanna." She can't hear me. Stinkin' kid, I pout.

I get closer to the garage, her little lungs still going strong. How does she not lose her voice? Aren't her vocal cords so tiny that they can barely handle a goo and gaga every once and a while? The way she was going on you'd think she had the lungs of a healthy twenty-five year old man.

The four garage doors that consist of my place of work are wide open; Embry and Quil are too hot to register the cool wind that pricks at my non-werewolf temperature.

"Hey!" I call out, my breath visible. Quil and Embry look up at me sceptically and wave lamely.

"Hey! Baby!" Quil says awkwardly, not looking too pleased by my approach. Whatever, he can suffer along with me. They both can!

"Jared! How's it going?" Embry asks, as if he doesn't know. It's fucking going south, that's where it's going. Kill me, I wanna beg of them. But I don't. I'm just being dramatic and desperate.

"Good, good. As you can see," I beam, gesturing to my bundle of joy. "How's the wife?" I ask Embry.

Embry's lips twitch. "Pregnant."

"Lovely!" I congratulate. "Twins?"

"One can hope," Embry says weakly.

"Yes, yes," I say. We stand there, pretending not to hear this blubbering baby.

"He ever get tired?"

"Occasionally," I respond. "And its Joanna," I say, feeling a bit pissed off at my friends for calling my daughter a boy.

Quil frowns. "But she's wearing blue."

I look down remembering that I put her in Wes' jacket out of pure laziness. "Are you so socially deranged that you fall under the sociological pretences that boys should like blue and girls should always wear pink?" I find myself saying. It was just a thought, but I voiced. I went there, like a loser.

"Feminism. New hobby, Jare?" Embry laughs.

I sigh, leaning against the silver Honda that Quil is working on under the hood.

"Boredom, really," I correct, picking at the dirt underneath my fingernails.

"Did you care to share this delightful music with us?" Embry asked, nodding to the stroller.

"Get used to it, Daddy-o," I grumble.

Embry slowly moves back to the car next to the one Quil was working on. I stayed there, watching my baby cry, semi-fascinated. Why wouldn't she turn off? This was the longest she's ever cried! Normally walking soothes her, what was up with her today? She wasn't hungry, she couldn't be. I took a step closer and sniffed her. Nope, that's not it. What is it? Why can't you just tell me?

"Can you leave? Kay, thanks, bye!" Embry said, waving us farewell. Put-off, I wheeled the stroller out of the garage, looking for a new destination. One that I hadn't been to in a while was Sam and Emily's. Brightening at all the wonderful things that come with going to Emily's, I hurried down the sidewalk, ready to turn left as soon as I reached the street they lived on. Food. Advice. A mother who knew how to deal with babies! Magic. Emily was magic.

I was practically skipping as I pushed Joanna up the front-walk and ringing the Uley's door bell. Nora opened the door, beaming at me.

"Nora! What have we told you? Mommy and Daddy open the door, not you," Emily came to the door looking frazzled but she smiled warmly when she saw me. Nora's nose scrunched up when she realized Joanna's cries weren't halting anytime soon.

"Did you break her?" she accused.

"No! She's just cranky!" I defended myself and Joanna. Emily shook her head and ushered us in, pressing Nora against the wall, who glared at her mother.

"Can I hold her?" Nora jumps behind me.

I unstrapped her from the stroller and place her withering body in my arms. "Does this look like something you want to touch? This baby's possessed!" I tell the seven year old.

"Possessed, what does that mean?" Nora questioned.

"Nora, go play, mommy is going to help Uncle Jared settle Joanna," Emily brushed her hair away from her face.

"But, I want to stay!" Nora stomps her foot.

"Nora! You'll get a time-out!" Emily warns her daughter. Nora pouts.

"It's not fair!" she crosses her arms, stubbornly.

"Go," Emily urges. Nora storms off, very upset with her mother. As soon as she's gone, I turn to Emily frantically, holding the squirming baby at arm's length.

"Take her, please. We'll keep Wes. She doesn't love us," I say, stressed to the max. Emily laughs and shakes her head, taking the baby into her arms, and rocking her back and forth. "That doesn't work," I warn, peeling off my jacket and tossing it over the back of her kitchen chair, sitting myself down.

"The kids and I made cupcakes yesterday, there in that container," she nods onto the counter. I swipe it off and delve into the pastry goodness.

"Where's Kim?" she asked frowning, rocking into a rhythm.

"Sleeping with Wes. I couldn't wake them. You should have seen them, they were so cute," I grin, feeling the frosting on my face, but not caring to wipe it off since it was just Emily. She'd seen me in more disgusting food positions in my years of knowing her.

I didn't notice it at first, but Joanna's cries were dying down, to an annoying whine. I look at Emily in astonishment.

"Wow," I utter, looking at Joanna's sleeping body, transfixed. "Will you marry me?" I ask her, thinking that I had just imprinted again, momentarily.

Emily laughed. "It's all about patience. If you're calm, the baby will be calm. Something tells me you were just a basket-case."

"Little bit," I admit. "Oops, sorry, I just cleared you of cupcakes," I announced. "Hope the kids won't be too upset."

"They will be. You owe them," Emily looked troubled by my inhaling of all her cupcakes. "Oh, this will not go over well," she mutters.

"Oh, sorry," I say only feeling somewhat guilty. They were damned good, and I was in a down mood. I can't hold myself accountable for eating what was right in front of me. "So, yeah, I'll just be going now," I say, standing to my feet.

"Would Kim be okay with us keeping your baby?" Emily asks a smile on her distorted face.

"Sure! She'd be fine with anything! And hey, if you still feel funny about this arrangement, we'll take her every other weekend," I attempt to reason. Emily shakes her head and begins to walk out of the kitchen. I follow here because – she's got my baby. She places Joanna carefully into the stroller and buckles her in.

"She's asleep now, so just take her home. It will be fine, Jared. Stop being so twitchy."

I look dejectedly at the stroller that was pressed up against the front door. The small foyer was over flowing with winter gear for the kids and about a thousand shoes. I nod slowly, opening the door as quietly as I could and wheeling the kid out backwards.

"Thanks Emily, but I can't help but feel like you're just pushing me out the door," I say.

"I am. You ate the cupcakes. Goodbye, Jared. We'll visit you all as a family soon. How about this Sunday?" Emily asks as Nora runs up to bid us goodbye as well.

"Perfect!" I say sarcastically and give a tired wave, swerving the carriage around and pushing the baby back home.

I began walking in a sort of daze. I didn't focus on anything but the ground in front of the stroller that passed underneath us in a grey-ish blur of concrete. The green on either side of me that consumed most of La Push was barely registered into my brain as I concentrated on moving at a nice rhythmic pace that made my eyes droop. I didn't think that it was possible to fall asleep while walking, but it turns out it is. I'm exhausted. I want sleep. But I can't. I'm walking.

Walking, walking, walking. Always walking.

Even though that is incredibly untrue, my body is protesting as if it were fact. It is weak and shaky and ready to collapse at the sight of a cozy patch of grass. So I stare at the rough, hard pavement.

I hear a small peep from Joanna and my heart freezes, praying that she won't start crying again anytime soon. Why does she always cry? Why? This is the first bit of rare silence that we experience with her. We had that quiet afternoon, followed by me being stupid enough to trigger the tears with an immature growl from yours truly. I can't be doing that anymore. I'm twenty-eight now. People expect you to snort with sarcasm, sniff with a runny nose, laugh when it's funny – no growling, that's for insecure teenage boys.

Oddly enough, I begin to notice a familiarity with the sidewalk and before I know it, I'm taking a sharp turn up a walk that is about half the size of the public one. Because, somehow, I knew this was my house. It's very strange that I knew this just by staring at the concrete, but I did. I look up and sure enough, it's my house. I very carefully lift the stroller up the stairs and onto the porch.

I place it down gently and wonder if I should even bother to take her out of the stroller. I mean, she'll most likely just wake up? But then, its winter, we can't stay out here for long.

Wincing, I pick her up slowly and cradle her to my chest, opening the front door and turning into our home. It's warm and cozy in here, as I thankfully kick off my boots. She hasn't woken yet, so this is a good sign. Fingers crossed! I take a few steps into the living room when I accidentally kick their vibrating chair thing and it zips across the floor into our tower of DVD's which collapse and create a loud crash. I freeze, I feel the baby stirring in my arms and then a resound cry breaks through the silence. Yep, she could have woken up five counties with that opening breath.

"Fantastic," I tell her. I decide that this is obviously a problem that surpasses my intelligence level of zero. I wander up the stairs and am opening mine and Kim's bedroom door where Kim is sitting upright with Wes on her lap, bouncing him up and down.

"Where'd you go?" she asks, frowning at Joanna.

"Out. Where she fell asleep. And then decided she hadn't tortured her father enough. Take her. I can't anymore. I give up," I whine, walking closer to the bed and a more sceptical Kim.

"You can't just give up seven weeks in," she hedges, wary to take the kid.

Wes' face is scrunched up at the sound of his sister.

"Looks like this is going to be another sleepless night," Kim sighed, putting Wes into his bassinet and relieving me of Joanna.

"Maybe she's hungry?" I suggest, flopping onto the bed in relief. Thank God, I press my face into a pillow.

Kim frowns in doubt. She holds the baby semi-awkwardly and looks at me miserably. I want to take the baby; I really do, but...

"Fine!" I exclaim, rolling off the bed. "Give her to me, I'll take her downstairs. But feed her first," I say standing by as she sits in the armchair we have in the corner beside the babies beds. She breast feeds our daughter and then hands her over. "Thankssomuch," I mumble, leaving the room. She had only temporarily ceased bawls, but tears still streamed down her face while she ate.

And so, I sat down on the couch, trying to watch TV with the volume very high. I actually got into a mode where I couldn't hear the baby sitting in front of my in her vibrating chair. When Kim came down later she looked at me desperately.

"Shall we eat?" she asked.

I shrugged, turning my attention back to the program about teenagers in a small town with lots of drama.

"I'll make macaroni," she tells me.

"Yum," I say loudly.

She holds out the baby monitor. "I don't think I could hear Wes if he cried!" she shouted over Joanna's incessant noise.

And when bedtime came, I hate to say that I fell asleep, but I did. I don't know how I did it, but somehow...Kim shook me awake, Joanna hadn't stopped. She told me to go up to our bed with Wes and she'd stay down here for a while. I nodded sleepily, unable to disagree, and crawled into our bed. I wasn't sure how long afterward it was, but soon the volume of the cries increased and I slowly opened my eyes to see Kim bouncing on her feet back and forth and staring out the window. I think Wes was even crying. I got up slowly and looked at Kim.

"Need help?"

"Yes, or I will throw her out this window," Kim says through her teeth.

I rub my face. "We're calling the doctor. This is out of control."

"I've talked to the doctor already," she says exasperated. "It's no use. She's just a difficult child. Everyone has one."

I grimace and look over at the clock that reads three thirty in the morning.

"Alright!" I take Joanna from her and order Kim to pick up Wes. She follows me out of the bedroom, down the hall and then descending the stairs. I grab my keys on the front bureau and tell her to follow me. It's a pretty mild night, with no rain. I lead my family to the car and open it up. I buckle Joanna into her car seat ignoring her physical protests and settle her in. Kim has a much easier time with Wes. We get in the car. I glance around, checking to see if I've woken the neighbours at all due to my kid's crying and then pull out of the drive, and begin to go on a middle-of-the-night road trip.

"Where are we going?" Kim yawns. Wes has quieted completely. Big deal.

Dare I say it, Joanna was calming down. Knock on wood. I look over at Kim to answer, and that small decrease in volume was just enough to make her fall fast asleep. I smile and continue to drive on. Not ten minutes later, Joanna is asleep and I thank God for giving me a passed out wife and two sleeping seven-week olds, finally.

Not wanting to break the silence after so long, I drove for the remainder of the night. In circles, in ways I never meant to go. And at around quarter to seven, Kim awoke with a start.

"Where are we?" The sky had lightened and the grey clouds told me it would rain soon.

"Not too far from home. Ready to go back?" I ask.

She looks out the car window. "Have you been driving all night?" she frowns.

"Only a few hours. I was scared to stop," I nod toward the backseat. She glances behind her to see both our babies were sleeping.

"Can you drive for like another fifteen minutes? I'm revelling in this thing people call silence."

I laugh quietly. "Anything."