The Twilight Series belongs to S. Meyer, no copyright infringement is intended. I'm just playing with the characters.
AN: Sorry about the delay, lots of RL issues and I was sick last week too. Anyway, if you're a member of JBNP don't forget to check out our group: Diamond in the Rough. It's a group dedicated to Leah Clearwater and is currently going to have a month of activities.
Paul ran as quickly as he could to Old Quil's house. Overnight there had been a slight rain, leaving the ground soft and muddy—not that it was truly any different than any other day. As he reached Old Quil's backyard, he spied a hose lying on the ground outside near the porch which butted up to the forest.
He hoped that despite it being late fall, early winter that it had been forgotten in the midst of all the recent phasing. Phasing back, he unhooked his shorts from his leg and threw them on the porch. He was in luck—the water had been left on though it was ice cold. It did the job of removing the vast portion of dirt from him.
His shorts were pulled on and he banged on the back door of the house. His hand grasped the knob on the chance that it wasn't locked; the knob turning easily and he pushed the door open, calling Old Quil's name.
"Quil, it's Paul."
He hadn't been in Old Quil's house more than a handful of times. The porch led into the laundry of the house. A washer and dryer pair that was likely older than Paul sat in the room and windows adorned three of the four sides. Faded and yellowing lace curtains graced the windows.
He walked through the door that led into the main part of the house and realized that he was near Old Quil's bedroom. Soft snores echoed against the walls. He continued to call Old Quil's name while making what he hoped was enough noise to wake the older man up, but not scare him to death.
As he rounded the corner to the doorway to the bedroom that he had heard the snores coming from; he failed to notice they were now absent, but he didn't pause to wonder why. As Old Quil charged toward him with an aluminum baseball bat, he realized he should have been paying closer attention.
"What the fuck," he swore as Old Quil's swing made contact with his arm.
Old Quil had the audacity to huff as though he was the injured party. "Well, what do you expect to happen? Sneaking into an old man's house like that," he finished with a raised eyebrow.
Paul rubbed his arm while growling in response, "Your door was unlocked and I was calling your name the entire time. Not my fault that you're half senile. Either way we don't have time to discuss things. Does Quil keep any clothes here?"
"Yes, in the bedroom across the hall. Why?"
Paul turned and strode into the small guest room and rifled through the drawers. If there was one good thing about phasing, it was the fact that all the boys were nearly the same size. Considering how often they shredded their outfits, some of them would have been reduced to wearing breechclouts and that wouldn't bode well for keeping their presence a secret.
He found a dark blue tee-shirt and pair of blue jeans. Unabashedly, he pulled off his soiled shorts and put on the new clothes. He spied a pair of tennis shoes in the corner and slipped them on his feet. The entire time he was aware of Old Quil as he waited for Paul to answer his earlier question.
"What's going on," Old Quil repeated.
Shaking his head, he muttered, "You don't want to know."
"You're the one who came here, so I think I need some answers."
"Fine. Whatever. This is by far the shittiest day ever. Is there gas in your old car?"
As he turned back to look at the older man, he saw the look of annoyance on Old Quil's face. The terse nod he was given had him assuming, at least, the car was able to be driven somewhere.
"Good. Seth phased. Harry had a heart attack. I need to bring you and Seth to the hospital."
"Seth phased? And Harry? When did all this happen? Why hasn't Sue called me?"
"There really wasn't much time. Between Seth on the verge of phasing in the Clearwater kitchen, Harry collapsing, and Leah and Quil bringing him back from the dead—it's been a busy morning."
For a long moment, Old Quil stood there silently and stared at Paul; a look of disbelief and shock on his face. Just as Paul was ready to growl at the older man that they needed to get going, Old Quil turned and went into his room. When he returned to the guest room, he had a small satchel covered with tribal designs in classic Quileute colors—red, black, and white.
"I'm ready. Let's go."
The two of them walked down the hallway to the main area of the house. Paul spied the keys to Old Quil's pride and joy, a brown Ford Fairmont circa 1978. Old Quil had bought it brand-new from the dealership in Port Angeles. And despite what some people thought about Fords—fix or repair daily—somehow this car had managed to keep on running.
"You best be careful driving my baby here, Paul. She requires a gentle touch. I don't even let my grandson drive her."
Paul snorted, "Your grandson chases his tail for fun and has the attention span of a 2-year old on his good days."
"Humph."
Starting the car, they began the short trip to the Clearwater's house. Paul filled Old Quil in as best as he could with the events of the morning; including Seth's apparent Alpha order.
"I was hoping Seth wouldn't phase until I had a chance to talk to Leah," he remarked.
"Why's that?"
"After witnessing what happened yesterday, I knew it wouldn't be good if things didn't get straightened out. Between Sam and Jared, well, I knew they would end up getting into it. Plus, we still haven't figured out the mystery of the imprint on Bella."
"Huh, you knew…" he paused to look over at Old Quil. "About Sam and Jared."
"Nearly from the start; no one else was paying attention, but that is hardly pertinent now. Sooner or later, things were going to come to a head. It just would be better if it happened before Seth phased."
As they pulled into the driveway, Paul spared another glance at Old Quil. "So, look—I don't know what he's going to be like. He's not happy with any of us in the pack."
"He wouldn't be. Did Leah phase at all today?"
"No, she didn't. Why?"
"I just wondered how much she remembered of yesterday."
"Not much, at least that's what Jared said. Are you thinking Seth will be the same?"
Old Quil shrugged before getting out of the car. Paul watched him walk closer to the house; torn between hoping for the best and the need to protect Old Quil. In the end, he hopped out of the car and within a few steps he caught up to him. Old Quil chuckled softly at Paul's antics.
"You won't be laughing when I save you from being wolf chow, old man."
The scene they found when Seth answered the door was eerie. The height and mass Seth had gained in wolf form had seemed to cross over to his human one as well. He easily stood at 6'4" and that only would have him towering over the pack. His muscles were just as bulky as Quil's and if Paul had to wager on it; he figured Seth would max the scales out at around 220 pounds.
Even more surprising was his demeanor. Not even thirty minutes ago he had been ready to tear people apart, but he answered the door as though nothing was wrong. He was freshly showered, wearing a clean tee-shirt and jeans. A half-eaten plate of food sat on the table.
"Good morning, Seth," Old Quil greeted evenly; his surprise hidden by a bland expression and nonchalant tone.
"What's up?"
"Would it be alright if we came in for a few minutes?"
Seth's gaze flicked from Old Quil to Paul. A scowl forming as he pursed his lips. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood up straighter; the pose effectively showing his dominance over Paul.
"I don't think so. You can say what you need and then go. If you're looking for my dad, he's not home."
"Quil," Paul whispered, knowing that Seth could hear, but he wasn't sure he could resist another order from Seth.
"Seth, I understand your reluctance, but I need you to come with me," Old Quil started. Seth's brow furrowed in confusion and then raised in amusement as he chuckled.
"You know what—I'm gonna wait in the car," Paul informed them at the same time he turned on his heel and headed away from the house.
"Coward," Seth breathed softly. A dark chuckle filled the air as Paul jerked his head at Seth's softly worded insult. He clenched his teeth and fists, his body stiff as he made his way back to the car. Opening the door, he forced his body in it and closed the door behind him. He quickly found a rock radio station which he turned up just loud enough to drown out any further insults from Seth.
Ten minutes later, a scowling Seth was crammed into the back seat with Old Quil sitting shotgun. The station Paul had been listening to was changed to a polka in spite of the majority of the occupants' disapproval.
It was official—this was hell. Paul was sure of it. The sooner they figured out this mess, the better. Otherwise he was going to beg Seth to Alpha order him, too.
Leah and Quil sensed their arrival. Leah, at first, hadn't been sure what she was feeling, but Quil filled her in. They ended up meeting the three of them in the parking lot. Leah was glad that they did.
She wasn't prepared for the stranger who stood in front of her. He had grown half a foot and gained at least 30 pounds since she saw him last; if she didn't know better it would be easy to think that they had been separated for years.
Even more surprising was the fact Paul was there. Out of all the wolves, she didn't seem him being one to be eager to wolf-sit Seth. She had hoped it would be Jared who would have brought him; though who knows what he had to say to get Seth to phase. She winced, remembering the things he had said to her.
"Hey, grandpa, how about I take you in to see Harry," Quil inquired as he sent a meaningful look to Leah.
"No, I want to see dad, first," Seth ground out. His figure blurred slightly and Leah laid a restraining hand on his arm.
"Seth, you will soon. Old Quil likely has a ritual to perform. In fact, we shouldn't wait too much longer—it's been a while since everything happened. You know how important the traditions are to mom and dad."
"Fine," he pouted. His facial expression was so reminiscent of the Seth she remembered that she bit her lip to keep from laughing.
"Let's go to the cafeteria and grab a bite to eat. By the time we're done; Old Quil will be done, right?"
"Sure, sure."
AN: Again, I'm changing canon. It seems unreal that people wouldn't question these boys shooting up past 6 ft and it only being select members of the tribe. Especially, 6' 7". That's really, really tall. That being said, even 6' 4" is tall, but I think it makes more sense in what will be happening in this story. According to wikipedia the average height of American male (all races) is 5' 10" so I think these boys being over 6' is extreme enough. :D
FF_8756144_25 01/08/13 3:27PM