The Man With Few Words

"The writer operates at a peculiar crossroad where time and place and eternity somehow meet. His problem is to find that location." –Flannery O'Connor


Chapter Two

Jacob Black was a decisive man.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't worry. He didn't second-guess himself. He always knew what he wanted and he always knew what he needed to do. Jacob Black relied on impulse and instinct; he did not analyze himself.

He always knew that she was the girl for him. She was quiet and pensive and miserably gorgeous. They were compatible together. They fit. They...worked. She had said that being with him was as easy as breathing. She told him that their relationship was effortless. And she told him that she never wanted to see him hurt.

Jacob Black wondered that, if that was the case, then that day before she chased him down in Italy; that day in the forest; that day on the altar; did she close her eyes?

Jacob Black had never experienced heartbreak before. But of course, she had been his first love. His only love. And love had failed him.

Jacob Black vividly remembers the day Carrie-Anne Robinson from his 4th grade class pronounced her love for him by tossing him a note that read: Do you like me? He remembers scowling at the note with his great brows furrowed as his friends waggled their eyebrows and made hoots.

The man with few words had been a bright child back then, with a megawatt smile and glistening russet skin. He glanced at Carrie-Anne Robinson with her bubblegum blonde curls, glittering blue eyes, and a dimple with her left cheek, and he checked the box that read: No.

Carrie-Anne Robinson cried.

Jacob Black had thought his romantic life ended right there. He was grateful for it. Romance turned people into fools and idiots. And Jacob Black was no fool.

Or so he thought.


People usually have had no knowledge that their lives had just changed. People seldom sit at a crossroad and know it's a crossroad. Nobody knows how big of an impact a single event can make until much later in their life.

When the man with few words saw a strange colorful girl in the middle of a trail, he didn't expect to have his life altered. He didn't expect to fall out of depression. He didn't expect to talk. He didn't expect much of anything from one so small. He had just thought she was weird.

"Maybe we should toss a coin." January Jansen turns to face him with her silvery eyes. She was frowning ever-so slightly with her lips pushed out into a frustrated pout.

They were standing—quite literally—at a fork in the road. They could go left, a relatively tamed path that seems to never end. Or they could go right, a relatively tamed path that seems to never end. The choices were endless.

January yanked on her long black hair, scowling furiously at her compass. She taps the protective glass then tilts her head. Her great white daisy looked lavender against the setting sun. She flips the map this way then that. She peers up at him through her long lashes and sighs.

"I think our only option right now is to take a guess and hope for the best. What's it going to be, Jay-cub?"

Jacob Black effortlessly begins to trek down the left trail, confident that they shall reach the reservation in no time. January scurries behind him obediently, tucking a stray strand of inky wave behind her ear and readjusting her flower.

There was a lull of silence.

Jacob Black asks, "What did you do?" It was a brain fart. A word diarrhea. A phrase vomit. He couldn't control himself.

January Jansen's brows creased in confusion. Her stormy eyes flickered as she stares, "What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. He didn't really know what he meant—or perhaps he did, he just wasn't sure how to word it properly. He wishes he had her grammar. "You said you studied art. But...you didn't draw well. So—what did you do?" His voice is still raspy.

"I...well, you know..." She shrugs. "Worked temp jobs. Here and there. Never lasted long though." She laughs, it sounds a little strained. "Guess I was never that good at anything." She tilts her head.

Jacob Black found the action charming. He found all of her charming. Especially how her bangs were too long and they kissed her lashes. He thought it made her looked like a moppet.

And they walked on in silence.

The man with few words felt...comfort...for the first time in a very long time. He liked the way her name was weird but rolled fluently off his tongue. He liked the way her colors leaped with her clumsily elegant movements. But most importantly, he liked how she was the complete opposite of her. He'd almost forgotten what its like being with someone who wasn't pained every time he saw them. He'd almost forgotten what its like just to...be with someone. Someone normal.

With an electric thrill, Jacob Black; Jacob Wolfe; Jacob-you're-my-best-friend-and-I-love-you-but-I-love-him-more, realized: he likes her.

Oh. Oh. Well, that certainly changes things. In fact, the revelation was so surprising to Jacob that he had to stop in the middle of the road once more.

Jacob Black was confused. He wasn't sure how he could like someone after just meeting them. In fact, he was confused as to what kind of 'like' he was referring to. Did he like her as a friend? As a person in general? Did he like her—in the way he liked her?

Jacob Black was angry. Why was he feeling this? What was he doing with her anyways? He should've just left her alone. She would've found her way eventually. Why the hell did he care so much anyways? The last time he checked, he wasn't capable of doing that just yet.

Jacob Black was at peace. He liked the way she made him feel. Calm. He hasn't felt calm ever since the phasing started. He was constantly on edge; angry, and vigilant. She made him relaxed him with her childish stories and moppet-like youth.

"Jay-cub?" She cocks her head again. She's standing 10 feet in front of him, turbulent irises glazed over. "Are you all right?"

He frowns at the fluttering feeling in his stomach. As if his insides were filled with vultures. He shakes his head, matted locks flying everywhere, "I'm fine." He catches up with her in two steps. Again, he notices that she's incredibly tiny. "Jan-U-airy?"

They resume walking in a brisk pace, the growing darkness and flashing clouds hurrying them forward. She combs her long, pale fingers through her onyx black hair, glittering madly with the dusky weather. "You may call me 'Jan' if you like. January's quite long of a name."

Jacob's tongue is heavy. "Jan?" He splutters.

Her slender arms swung by her side as she glided, "Mm-hmm." She hums, "Everybody calls me 'Jan' back home."

Jan. January. Jansen. Jacob Black wonders if the alliteration was done on purpose.

"Jan. Jan." He's never felt more like a dumb brute. In fact, he thought of himself as Tarzan. Or the boy raised by wolves. He could've laughed at the irony but instead, he purses his lips and shakes his great big head. Jan didn't suit her. It didn't sound right. Blinking, he lets the nickname just whirl out like another brain fart, "Janie. Jane-ee."

January Jansen fiddles with the daisy in her raven tress and smiles impishly. "I'll answer to that." January Jansen had a dimple, he suddenly recognizes, a dimple that reminded him fiercely of Carrie-Anne Robinson.

"Look, Jay-cub!" She raises herself onto her tip-toes and whoops in excitement. Her colors danced all around her as she trills happily, "It's the reservation!" She beams up at him, charcoal gaze smoldering and scarlet lips curling.

Jacob Black shuddered although that familiar feeling of being burned alive enveloped his chest. The silly, colorful girl mistook this as a reaction to the damp chill. After all, he was wearing naught but a pair of ragged sweatpants. She slides her cardigan off and drapes it carefully over him, struggling to even reach his chest.

It barely covered a single shoulder.

Jacob Black blinks. Rapidly. He wasn't sure what to think or how to proceed. It was a sweet gesture, he supposes. Sweet; but unnecessary. Awkwardly, he repositions the plum colored sweater until it hung from his neck like a scarf. Her crisp scent of fresh water and flowers filled his lungs. He didn't want her to feel bad or anything so he rasps, "Um...thanks."

She grins. "No problem, Jay-cub."

The man with few words attempted a smile in return. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Call me Jake."


"Who is she, Jacob?" Embry's head hovering in front of the television was extremely distracting. He wanted nothing more than to swat it off his neck.

Jacob Black had just arrived home after a long night of patrolling. His hair is even more tangled up than before; his face is streaked with mud; and his feet are scratched by jagged rocks. He collapsed down at the couch with the intention to sleep but found that he couldn't.

Insomnia wasn't a stranger ever since he's met her. But this was different. This was about the other her. This was about Janie. He missed her comforting presence. Her eloquent words and her Southern twang. He missed all of her.

Involuntarily, as if something was pulling him, he reached over the back of the couch and stretched for her cardigan. The material is soft and her fragrance was stuck to it. He clutched it tight in his hand and fell back, sinking into the sofa, the sound of her name branded onto the edge of his lips.

Andthat's precisely how Embry found him.

How embarrassing it had been for him. He had awoke when Embry attempted to tug the cardigan out of his arms and he had instinctively tightened his hold on the clothing. And when Embry yanks again, with a little more force, Jacob's eyes jolt open and he tears it out of Embry's grasp with a feral growl. Blinking away the sleep, he regained enough conscience to stuff the cardigan between the cracks in the couch.

Embry bothered him for a little while, asking him if he saw anything on patrol and then inquiring about the sweater and its owner and then about the girl he saw him with on the trail that fateful afternoon.

Jacob ignored all his inquires and switched on the TV, hoping that his friend would eventually drop it and go away. He doesn't. He bends over the back of the couch in order to hang his face in front of Jacob's and voice loudly, "Who is she, Jacob?"

Which brings them to their predicament now.

Jacob flexes his fingers, the usual feeling of immense anger flooded through him. He grits his teeth and tries his hardest to push it away, squinting in order to preserve the sensation of peace January gave him.

"Jake!" Embry complains, "C'mon! What's going on? I saw you walking with her. I saw you talk to her. You're not keeping some sort of secret girlfriend from us, are ya?"

Jacob pushes Embry's face away from him with a disgusted snort. He shakes his head and keeps his composure passive; he's had a lot of practice with this expression.

"Who is she? Do you know her?" The questions just don't stop.

Jacob shakes his head again.

"Know who?"

Jacob would've groaned. It just happens so that Quil bursts through the door in this precise moment, his happy face scrunched in puzzlement. "Know who, Jacob?" He asks, his innocent eyes wide. As if suddenly remembering that Jacob no longer spoke, he charges towards Embry, pulling on a shirt hastily. He asks again, "Know who, Embry?"

Embry tosses his arms up in the air, frustrated, "I don't know! That's what I'm trying to find out!" He heaves himself over the couch and plops down next to the man with few words. Jacob's suppressed annoyance amplified. Embry was seriously invading his personal space; and Jacob was claustrophobic. It could be due to the fact that he was so big himself. "What's her name, Jake? You gotta at least know her name!"

Janie, Jacob thought. But he doesn't tell his friends that. He settles for a nonchalant shrug, willing himself to be swallowed by the floor.

"Wait. You met a girl, Jake? What's she like? Who is she? Why didn't you say anything?" Quil occupies the other empty space until the three teenage werewolves are all compressed together on a single loveseat.

Jacob swallows and stands up abruptly. His voice is scratchy and he croaks, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Quil and Embry had to get over the initial shock that Jacob had actually talked. He had opened his mouth...and words came out. This was a miraculous occasion. They jumped up from the sofa and cluttered around him.

"You do know her! What's her name? Where does she live?"

"Is she someone we know? Does she live on the rez? How'd you meet her?"

Jacob just shrugged.

Embry's eyes narrowed in aggravation. And in an action that would be too fast for a human to follow, he reached into Jacob's unkempt shag and pulled out a flower. A single, blood-red poppy. Jacob cursed himself. He had known it would come back to haunt him.

Embry raised a brow, satisfied and proud. "How do you explain this, then?" Quil's shit-eating grin became so wide that it nearly split his face. He nods along smugly.

And Jacob just runs.


He didn't know why he didn't tell his friends about her. She was no one significant and telling them about her did him no harm. So why didn't he?

He wasn't sure. But something in him wanted to keep January all to himself. He didn't want anyone else to be aware of her and her vivid colors or her cute staccato. He didn't want anyone else to admire her inky locks and silver eyes. He was being illogical, but he didn't care.

He's walking, bare-foot and bare-chested, again. He's thinking about her again. The her that causes him pain. He thought about how beautiful she looked on her wedding day. He imagined himself to be the groom. In his dream, their wedding would be by the beach, on a warm and sunny day. She'd wear her chestnut hair down and her chocolate irises would twinkle. Charlie would walk her down the aisle and she'd cry as she stands before him because she just loved him that much.

His fantasy made his whole body ache. It'd tear at his ribcage and rip at his soul. He knows he should try and forget her. He needed to stop torturing himself.

And just as he's reverted back to his usual demeanor of misery and heartache, January Jansen danced back into his vision.

He didn't recognize her. Not at first.

With the rain coming down so hard and the cold mist pooling around his leg, he could barely see anything unless it was right in front of his face. It was a bright yellow raincoat that caught his attention and it made his chest swell because he remembers that she had one.

He rushed forward, her name on the tip of his tongue. She came back to him. She left him. His entire body almost erupted out of happiness. It wouldn't matter that she's a vampire. Nothing would matter if she would tell him that she loved him. His ears rung with anxiety.

No. No, Jacob. Stop. His mind made him halt in mid-stride and he dug his heels into the ground. As he comes closer, he can see that this figure is slighter, thinner. Her hair was longer and darker. And that the sickening sweet smell of leeches eluded him.

He walks closer, slower. He blinks the rain away from his eyes and he calls, his baritone faint, "January?"

The figure raises her head. Yes, he recognizes her now. Her smell of gardenias. She's squatted on the side of the road next to her car. She could not yet spot him so she questions crisply, "Who is it?"

Jacob had expected the feeling of ecstasy to leave him, which, it did. But not completely, an ember of warmth remained, it made his russet skin buzz. He rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, "It's me. Uh...Jacob."

He watches as she squints, "Jacob?" She repeats, perplexed.

He nods hesitantly, although he was sure she could not see. "Yeah. Jacob. Black. We—um, we met on the trail the other day."

She dances her way towards him, graceful and staggering, pulling the raincoat closer to herself as she lets out a melodic laugh, "I remember you, Jay-cub. I just can't believe our luck." She tries to keep her long mane out of the storm's path but fails horribly, her wet fringe stuck to her forehead, and droplets clinging onto her lashes. She shakes her head, attempting to dry herself, "It seems like every time I'm in trouble, you come to my rescue." She gestures to her car, a slick black vehicle. It takes him a while to process that she was referring to her flat tire.

She yanks on her midnight tress, "You wouldn't happen to know how to change a tire, would you?"

Jacob Black looks from her to the car. He realizes, with a ghostly smile, that she's wearing her colors again. The same crimson boots with sky blue stockings and a forest green skirt. Her light pink sweater matched her flushed cheeks. He wondered her dress code was considered normal in New York.

He looks to the car again and asks calmly, "Where's your spare?"

Her childish face brightens and she clambers to the trunk of her car. He squats down to inspect the vehicle with critical eyes as she rolled the spare tire to him with obvious struggle, her brows knit together. The tire must've weighed more than her, he decided.

In a few moments, using the tools she's got already laid out on the ground, Jacob Black manages to effortlessly screw on a new tire and pump all the tires up full with air while January worked on rolling the flat tire back into her trunk.

"Where are you heading?" She asks him, pulling her hood further over her head in order to shield herself from the rain.

Jacob was stuck for a second. He really wasn't heading anywhere but he thought that if he told her that, it would've seemed a little weird. Not that it would've mattered, because she was a little weird herself. "The grocery store." He replies.

"Me too!" She pulls open the passenger seat door open for him, "I'll give you a ride then. It's the least I can do." She eyes his bare chest critically, "You're going to get a cold sooner or later. Always wandering around half-naked."

He graces her with another ghostly smile then slides into the smooth, buttery seat. January hops into the other side a beat later, tossing off her soggy boots and flinging her raincoat behind her. She drove a quaint, little sports coupe, and she drove with both feet. Her seat scooted so close to the front that it looked like she was hugging the steering wheel.

She drove at a good, steady pace with the radio turned onto some rap channel. When he raised a thick brow at the questionable lyrics, she had the decency to turn a little red and confesses, "It's kind of my thing right now. Really dirty, like...really dirty, obscene rap." She giggles, "It's so ridiculous that it makes me laugh and it makes me want to dance." She bounces in her seat for emphasis.

Jacob Black had never heard so many curse words in his life. But in a way, he supposes, the songs kinda suited January. They were uninhibited and lucrative and open. They were colorful. Just like she was.


The Shop Mart is the only grocery store in La Push. And it takes January Jansen three tries before she can finally fit into her desired parking spot.

Jan-U-airy 'Janie' Jansen buys Cocoa Puffs. She buys Borden whole milk. She buys macaroni and canned chicken broth. She stocks up on carrots and oranges and lemons.

It was then that Jacob Black realizes, with a jolt, that instead of a daisy, she wore butterfly clips in her hair this time. A bunch of them. Glittering whenever they caught the light, their flighty metal wings would flop with the slightest of movements and they were all different colors. Pinks and blues and silvers. They made her full black waves shimmer as if surrounded by a sea of butterflies.

January Jansen takes almost half an hour to decide on which kind of blender to buy; about an eternity to choose between Coke and Dr. Pepper; but only a second to randomly grab a toaster oven. January Jansen purchases some Lysol all purpose cleaner.

Jacob Black just buys eggs.

January Jansen mulls over what color paint to buy as the man with few words waits impatiently. She prattles on in her clear, high voice, "I really need to get the yellow pages. I'm basically useless by myself. I can't even reach the ceiling while standing on my highest stool. Plus, I'm really no good with tools, I'll probably wound up cracking my head open."

There it goes. The brain fart. The word diarrhea. The phrase vomit. Jacob blurts, "I can help you."

She blinks in that dumb, clueless way she always does with her rainy gaze burning and her raven tress flying. He expected her to reject him in the usual polite way people do but instead she just says, "Oh." And she gives him her elfish grin, "That would be really nice."

Jacob shrugs, flicking away his wildly matted hair. Once again, she feels the impulse to fix it so she unwinds one of her delicate butterfly clips and snags it among his shaggy locks. The man with few words felt his chest grow hot. And once again, he tries to convince himself that she was nothing more than a silly girl with a flower.


End note:

Thank you so much for all the favorites and for just...giving this story a chance, you know! I'm really excited and was planning to churn this update out earlier but I was out camping with a couple of my friends and when I came home, its just my luck that I came down with the cold so this took me JUST a tad longer to finish than I thought. But I'm completely in love with this story and there isn't a moment I don't think about Janie and Jake so just stay tuned, it's going incredibly well so far.

I'd like to give a special shoutout to 'call-911-it's-ellie' and 'Pink Ikawa 001', my two loyal reviewers. And to all of you who read the story. I love you all dearly and reviews are always faboo.

Question of the day: What about January do you love the most?

--Kira 'Kitty'