thirty-seven.

(Jacob)

On Monday, Jacob wakes with a start to the sound of Leah's alarm clock blaring its usual wake-up call, wishing — as he does every morning he wakes in her bed — that she'd never bought the damn thing.

(They had slept through the alarm on her cell phone one time — one time, and the moment she'd been let out of her hour-long detention for being late she had marched straight down to the hardware store to choose the loudest, most annoying one they had to offer. He's barely heard the end of the whole fiasco since.

Of course, that may be because he has been taking the batteries out of the damn thing. But Leah always catches him — somehow, she always just knows what he's up to; she always manages to find the batteries he hides away — so he still ends up waking with his heart in his throat most mornings anyway because his ears are too damn sensitive.)

He reaches out for the snooze button with the full intention of rolling over and going back to sleep when suddenly he feels something shatter underneath his hand, and he hears the pieces of the now-broken alarm clock scattering across the bedside table and all over Leah's bedroom floor.

Well, shit.

Jacob groans loudly, both at himself and the world as he is yanked further away from the edge of sleep and thrown headlong into wakefulness. Sometimes, in the briefest of moments in which he can relax his guard and just be, he forgets to mind his own strength; he has absolutely no hope of cognizance whilst he's half-asleep. One drowsy misstep, and now Leah's probably going to employ a man with a fucking brass gong to stand at the end of the bed just to make sure they get up on time. Or something.

(He is not a morning person. They make him dramatic. That's what Leah claims, anyway.)

"Don't," he mumbles into the sudden silence, his arm hanging limply over the side of the bed in defeat. "Just . . . don't say anything."

Leah doesn't stir, but he knows she is awake. "Wasn't going to," she replies, voice thick with sleep as she rolls over and pulls the covers tight over her shoulders, snuggling down into the blankets. "Go back to sleep."

"Can't," he mutters, lying flat on his back, his fingertips grazing broken plastic strewn across the floor. "No alarm."

"You're such a grouch in the morning," she mumbles into the pillows.

Jacob grunts in reply. "I'll buy you a new one today."

"With your cheque from the Pack?"

"I'm owed thousands," he says rather listlessly to the ceiling, still wrapped up in mourning another day he has to go without a full eight hours of sleep. Another day he has to execute someone else's bidding. "Any day now."

Any day now, they will catch the redhead and this will all finally be over.

"Is that all?" Leah replies in a sleepy drawl, but he hears the smile in her voice and can't help but soften a little.

"Eh, it's honest work."

"Too bad there isn't a Pack Union," she mumbles. "You could negotiate a better wage."

"Now there's an idea." He shifts onto his side and drapes an arm around her, smiling into her messy hair. She says the silliest, weirdest things when she's on the verge of unconsciousness. "Maybe when you get that diploma you can put it to good use and start one up for us."

Leah vibrates with a contended sort of hum and leans back into his weight. "Sounds good, honey. Can we go back to sleep now, please?"

"I hate to break it to you but it's Monday." And as much as he would love to lay in bed with her for the rest of the day just for the chance to hear her call him honey again, he has patrol in a few hours and the class schedule he's more or less committed to memory has Leah attending double AP-something-or-other first thing. Chemistry, maybe. "And I kind of broke the snooze button, so we really do have to get up."

"No school." She is almost asleep again, her words a little blurred around the edges. "'Morial Day."

He lifts his head with a start. How is it nearly June already?

"Memorial Day?"

"S'what I said," she grouses.

"No school?"

She only murmurs a garbled reply, already too far gone, and she doesn't speak again. Her breathing slows almost instantly — it seems like she's going to take advantage of the long weekend by forgoing studying to catch up on some well-deserved rest (not that he can begrudge her; maybe she's finally listening and will actually spend the day without a book in her hand) — and she's deeply asleep by the time he has dressed and hurried out of the house.

Since imprinting, Jacob can count on one hand the number of times he's stepped foot in Sam and Emily's house. Mostly, it's because he can't stand to be within a half-mile radius of wherever Sam is, but also because he finds that he's unable to lie through his teeth whilst looking Emily in the eye.

"You will let her know she's welcome here, won't you, Jake?" she asks for the second time in as many minutes, offering him yet another plate of assorted sandwiches. "I miss my sister."

Unfortunately for Emily, her sister still views her as something of a traitor. There is also the small matter that her fiancé has admitted he is still in love with that same 'sister', the mere thought of which never fails to make Jacob go a bit berserk whenever it crosses his mind.

Emily doesn't know this, of course, and Jacob is certainly not going to be the idiot who tells her, especially not when she's still living this bubble of delusion that Leah now being an imprint means all past wrongs have been righted and they can suddenly be a family again.

"Yeah, I'll let her know," he says, taking a chicken sandwich if only to avoid Emily's beseeching expression.

"Please, have another," she says, all but thrusting the plate in his face.

Jacob eats quickly and hopes he's not going to choke on a load of bad karma. He feels out of place, out of sorts, especially with the gazes of his brothers bearing down upon him. Embry, Seth, Paul. Even little Collin, who looks like he's missing his right arm without Brady; they all seem to be stuck between disbelief that he is actually here and apprehension that a fight is going to break out between him and Sam, who is all but glaring holes into the side of his head. It's a wonder they haven't all phased from the stress.

Not that Sam is going to say anything about it — about anything — when he's gone to such great lengths to keep Emily safe and happy and loved. Or, as Jacob personally prefers to call it: Operation Keep Emily in the Dark, or 'Saving My Own Skin', written by none other than Samuel Levi Uley himself.

Emily hovers for a while longer, feeding everyone and fussing over them all as if she doesn't already spend her every waking moment doing so. "Is she at home?" she asks him. Clearly, Leah is still on her mind. "Maybe I could stop by a bit later today instead if she's not doing anything before the bonfire . . ."

"Uhm," Jacob begins dumbly. Up until fifteen minutes ago, as well as it being Memorial Day, he'd completely forgotten that Collin and Brady's first bonfire party is being held tonight; he's still got to convince Leah to attend. "Yeah, but I actually wanted to ask about that."

His eyes find Sam, who is still staring at him with a dark expression that everyone else seems to be studiously ignoring — even Emily, not that Jacob is sure she's noticed with all her fussing; apparently, she's completely impervious to the rippling tension in her kitchen, too focused on grieving her cousin's absence and fixing to make amends. That, or she's just overly accustomed to it.

"I'm meant to patrol in a few," Jacob continues, "but I wanted to see if I could switch out with someone and have the day—"

"No," Sam says, cutting him off. "I need you rested, not dead on your feet."

"I'll cover for him," Embry offers around a mouthful of food, and Jacob feels a surge of overwhelming gratitude for his brother. "I wasn't meant to run today, anyway."

"If Jacob swaps with you today, he'll be running double tomorrow," Sam answers with the faint hint of a bite in his voice. "We're all going to be running short bursts tonight as it is."

"So?" Embry shrugs. "You've been making him run double since he came back," he bravely tacks on.

The whole room sucks in a breath. Even Paul, who is usually the first to backtalk and get his ass handed to him for it, looks nervous. Even so, they cannot deny the truth of the statement — Sam has been infinitely harder on Jacob than anyone else since The Fight, and they are all aware it's because he's jealous and fighting to retain control. If he can tame his second-in-command, then he'll be able to tame all of them — they will all fall in line pretty easily after that.

For the most part, Jacob has suffered it in silence. What keeps him going is the knowledge that he has already won: Leah has chosen him, and he is the one who gets to go home to her day after day. He will not risk fighting with Sam and throwing the Pack off-balance again. He just wants to get the job done and live his life the best he can until they catch the redhead and the Cullens leave — which, coincidentally (or perhaps not so), is the day he's been promised he can resign with immediate effect. Resign and never look back.

"Everyone's pitching in extra until we catch the redhead," Sam replies coolly, crossing his arms and drawing himself to his full height.

"I haven't had a full day off since she came back," Jacob points out. He has to mind his tone lest his Alpha thinks he's throwing down the gauntlet. There's not enough time in the day to spend getting his ass kicked because of Sam's fragile ego.

"Neither have I," Sam counters.

The tension crackles. Jacob balls his hands into fists underneath the kitchen table, entirely aware that the minute tremor to his arms is giving him away. He doesn't even want to be here — he just wants a day off. That's all he's asking for. A whole day he can spend with Leah without interruption, and he's not about to go home to her empty-handed. Especially not after making a special exception to willingly place himself within five paces of Sam.

He has a plan.

He draws breath. "Sam—"

The shrill ring of the phone cuts him off, nearly making them all jump.

Emily, the only calm one in the room, gently wipes her hands on her apron and reaches for the phone on the wall. "Hello?"

Jacob shares a look with Embry across the table, who nods back at him in solidarity. "Don't worry," his brother mouths, and Jacob has to refrain from scoffing under his breath.

"Leah?" Emily's tone pitches with surprise, and six heads snap in her direction so quickly that Jacob is amazed they don't all strain a muscle. "Oh, Lee! I was hoping you'd call, I was just asking Jake about you! I'm so . . . Of course," she says slowly then, unchecked disappointment and hurt creeping into her voice. "Hang on."

Emily turns back to the kitchen table and catches Jacob's eyes and, sure enough, she looks like somebody has just said her muffins taste stale: her own eyes are quickly turning watery and her bottom lip is wobbling. He wonders what Leah has said to her to upset her so quickly.

He is up on his feet and reaching for the phone before any of Emily's tears slip free. She is as prone to crying as Bella is — particularly when it comes to Leah, who by comparison cries so infrequently that sometimes Jake has to throw up a prayer of thanks that he managed to get so damn lucky. He's dealt with enough misery to last him a lifetime within these past few months alone.

"What's wrong?" is the first thing that flies out of his mouth.

One of the many, many other things Jacob appreciates about his imprint is that she does not bother beating around the bush.

"Bella called," she says immediately. He can't yet decipher her tone. "She said she called your house first, and Billy told her to call here instead."

Jacob's pretty sure his old man said that for a reason; Billy loves nothing more than driving a point right on home, and he'll grab any opportunity to crow about Leah being as good as his daughter-in-law. Especially to Charlie and Bella.

"Are you alright?"

Silence.

"Honey?"

She inhales deeply on the other end of the line, holding her breath for what seems like a long time before she says, "She made me speak to Edward." And then, before he can explode, as if she can sense the roar building within his throat from miles away, she quickly adds, "Someone's been at Charlie's. Inside his house, Jake. They could have—"

"The redhead?" he demands, and he knows without looking that Seth and Embry have leapt to their feet behind him, both ready to wage war for their favourite person in the world. He doesn't dare chance a glance at Sam to see the expression on his face — Jacob knows he will see an expression that will exactly mirror his own.

Leah swallows audibly on the other end of the line. "Someone — something else. He — Cullen, he asked me to pass on the message and see if you guys had picked up anything new. Can . . . Can you call him back? I said I would, but now I've thought about it I'll probably end up causing a supernatural war or something," she jokes with the tiniest of nervous laughs. "He didn't sound too happy to be putting this in my hands, anyway."

"I'll do it," he tells her, leashing his wolf that rises in its offence. It's one thing that the bloodsuckers have always treated the Pack as less, that Cullen has treated him as less, but to extend that to his imprint . . . "What's the number?"

She recites Charlie's number — from memory or paper, he doesn't know, although he's willing to bet on her memory. "What are you going to do?" she asks then, but he can't think of an answer that she'll approve of.

He looks over his shoulder at Embry, at Seth, who are both vibrating with the effort of resisting a phase on the spot. He nods at them, the only signal that is needed, and they race out of the house without a backward glance. They'll be with her within minutes.

He won't be far behind them.

"Wait there," he says. Fuck patrol, fuck Sam. Fuck whatever force that refuses to give him just one day off to be free from this godforsaken drama. "Don't answer the phone if it rings again, not 'til Embry and Seth get there, do you hear me?"

Leah huffs a strained breath that might be a laugh. "Jake, don't you think that's just a bit of an overreaction? You don't need to send anyone over."

"Who's overreacting?" he scoffs. It's unconvincing, even to himself. "I'll be there soon, okay?"

"Okay," she replies slowly, uncertainly. "You're not about to go and do something stupid without me, are you?"

"I'm just going to make a phone call," he promises. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Okay," she says again. "Hurry."

Jake hits the switch hook and punches in the Swans' number before anyone else (in other words: Sam) can draw breath and demand him (order him) to explain what's going on.

(Leah)

By her estimation, it takes less than five minutes after she puts the phone down for Embry and Seth to burst through the front door. Long enough for her to clear the draining board of the dishes she'd been washing when Bella had called. Long enough to calm herself down and venture into the sitting room to await the boys' arrival.

They appear as naked as the day they were born, their nudity significantly less endearing now than it would have been then (not that Leah would be an expert on that matter). And whilst Seth immediately reaches for the clothes tied onto the leather cord around his ankle after seeing for himself that she is in one piece, it takes Embry significantly longer to realise that he's standing in the middle of the living room in his birthday suit.

If only Quil were here, and not stuck on patrol, it'd be a real party, she thinks. Although considering that Embry and Seth clearly bolted across the Rez from Emily's house on four legs, her other friend likely knows everything that's going on and won't be far behind. After weeks spent thinking that his best friends totally abandoned him, Quil refuses to miss out on anything anymore — not if he can help it. He damn near pitches a fit every time he does.

Leah pulls her legs up underneath her on the couch and pointedly averts her eyes. She loves her friend with her whole heart, and she wouldn't hesitate before going to bat for him over the smallest of things, but a girl has her limits.

"Embry, for God's sake, put your pants on."

"What happened?" he demands breathlessly, trembling hands balled into fists at his sides, and she realises that he's only heard one half of a conversation before blindly reacting. Before overreacting, just like she had known that Jake would too.

Seth hurriedly yanks on his shirt, dirty and threadbare from being dragged behind him, his own chest heaving with exertion. Or panic. "We heard Jacob mention the redhead, and we thought—"

"Jake would have beaten you here if that was the case," she says with a roll of her eyes.

She tells them both what she'd told him: her phone call with a stuttering Bella, and then with an oddly polite Edward — or at least, he had been polite until her usual snark had worked its way into her voice and she royally pissed him off.

(On reflection, perhaps asking the bloodsucker if he'd broken any more treaties lately hadn't been the best of conversation starters.)

Halfway through her retelling, exactly as predicted, Quil barrels into the house, interrupting her before she can ask what exactly it is Jake intended to do but refused to tell her, and she has to start all over again.

"It's not that big of a deal," she tells them all for the second time. "Honestly."

She is more amused than annoyed by the three wolves suddenly hovering around her. Their protective instincts have been kicked into overdrive by a new unknown threat, and she feels rather exasperated by them — affectionately so, like she wants to slap some sense into their heads and hug them all at once.

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she watches the scene: Embry, pacing; Quil, standing at the window and wringing his hands; Seth, perched on the opposite end of the couch, radiating nervous energy that he doesn't know how to burn off other than bouncing his left leg up and down as he tries very, very hard to not look at the same spot their father died only a few months ago.

The living room has changed in the months since then. The carpet has been replaced and they have rearranged the furniture, but Seth's gaze is continually drawn to that specific spot on the floor. When he begins staring at the new carpet for the fourth or fifth time, Leah reaches over and puts her hand on top of his.

Her little brother throws her the smallest of smiles and closes his eyes, shaking his head in an attempt to refocus his thoughts. "What I don't understand is what they wanted us to do about it," he says.

"What they wanted Jake to do about it," Quil amends with a frown.

Embry starts biting the skin behind his thumbnail, now dressed but still as agitated as he was when he arrived. "Guess they don't have Sam's number for these kinds of things."

"We should give it to them. Maybe they'd leave us alone, then," Quil mutters.

Leah keeps her hand on Seth's, the contact grounding her as she worries and wonders how much longer Jacob is going to be, pondering what he could be doing. Stupidly, she'd almost thought that this was something that he'd pass onto Sam when she'd picked up the phone to pass on the message. Something that was an Alpha's responsibility, something that would force Sam to pull his finger out of his ass and handle himself.

"You think he's gone to Forks?" she asks then, and suddenly she's imagining a hundred and one different scenarios that all set her heart into a wild rhythm and make something deep inside of her throb with panic. It wouldn't be the first time Jake's temper has gotten the best of him.

The tightness in her chest is suffocating. It's just the imprint, she tells herself. It's just the imprint, making everything feel worse, exaggerated, heightened, just as it always does. It's just the imprint.

"No," Embry says, but Leah knows that she's planted the thoughts in all their heads and they're now considering the same thing. Her best friend's expression tightens, and behind him, the wringing of Quil's hands increases in his agitation. "Not if he wants to get his ass kicked into next week."

Seth draws in a sharp breath, his eyes automatically flying towards the front door as if he's planning to run all the way to Forks and track Jacob down himself. But then she realises that it's because Seth can hear something that she cannot — even Embry and Quil have paused in their worry; Embry cocks his head, and Quil stares out of the wide window with something akin to relief working its way into his face.

Thank God.

Leah doesn't need to hear or see what they do. She can feel it, now that she allows herself to. The panic within her bones is not entirely her own, it's—

—it's Jacob's, of course.

The rest of the world falls away as he finally appears in the doorway, filling every inch of space, and she smiles. She barely even registers that he's not got his shorts on.

"Hi," she breathes, and her panic — their panic — settles into overwhelming relief.

His throat bobs, his gaze roving over her as though he is making sure she is unharmed. "Hi."

"What took you so long?"

He starts forward, but he stops himself at the very last second, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wants to touch her, she realises vaguely — to make sure she's safe, even though she'd never been in any real danger to begin with. It's a fight for him to curb the imprint-driven impulses that are only getting stronger with every passing day as they spend more and more time together. She knows this, because she feels it too.

"Had to rearrange some boundary lines with the bloodsucker," he tells the room, trying and failing to sound casual. His face is flushed, his eyes meeting hers every few heartbeats. "Sam wanted in on the conversation, so it took a little longer than I thought it would. Sorry."

"And?" she asks.

She knows there's more. There's always more where Bella and her vampires are concerned — especially when Bella has dragged Jacob into whatever mess she's created and she expects him to clean it up.

Jake turns apologetic. "I gotta go to Forks."

Leah sighs. "Of course you do."

"What about Sam?" Embry asks. He catches her look of disapproval only a second afterwards, and they share a look of understanding — a look of two people who are utterly fed up with the hold Bella and the Cullens have over their family. Over Jacob.

"Yeah," she says, turning back to her wolf in the doorway. "Why can't he do it?"

"He's taking my patrol with Jared," he replies, finally reaching down to his ankle for his clothes. He doesn't look happy about the decision, and Leah thinks that maybe for once he's not been the first to volunteer his services. Not after Bella's last visit. "I'll phase afterwards and see if Sam can pick up the scent anywhere near our borders straight away. He's got us on full red alert."

Embry drops into her father's old armchair with a groan. "Well, there goes my day off."

"Sorry." Jacob looks like he means it, too — like he's guilty and feels as if he's personally responsible for something he could have never predicted. "He's switched the schedule up again. So you and me are on tonight, after the bonfire party. Quil — he wants you back right away. He's not happy you left."

Quil shrugs, as unsurprised as he is uncaring.

"What about me?" Seth pipes up, fidgeting from his side of the couch again, never one to let himself be forgotten when there are strategies to be planned. He wants to be at the forefront of all of them, right on the front lines. "What do I need to do?"

"Your homework," Leah tells him, at the same time Jacob says, "Study," and, despite the dark cloud hanging over them all, they smirk privately at each other.

It gives her a chance to note the shadow of doubt in his eyes, the hesitancy that he has tried to mask under his bravado of being second-in-command and dishing out orders to his brothers on Sam's behalf.

He doesn't want to go. That much is clear. Forks, Bella, Edward — they are all the last things that he wants to be dealing with right now, and she finds herself making a spur of the moment decision. Because it's about time that something goes Jacob's way for once, and she will always give him what he needs.

"I'll go," she announces. "I'll take Embry."

Embry's spine snaps to attention, and when she looks at him he starts nodding vigorously in his agreement. He approves of this plan. Just as she knew that he would.

She feels Jacob staring at her, watching her. Considering her. And when she turns her head to meet him, there it is — that look in his eyes.

It makes her toes curl underneath her. They're not left alone very often these days; they rarely have any privacy save for the quiet hours they're climbing into one another's beds, spoiled by the knowledge that there's always someone in the next room over, always someone down the hall — Seth, usually, who she does not doubt would wrench them apart if he so much as suspected they were venturing beyond second base.

Distantly, Leah hears someone pointedly clear their throat, effectively ending the moment and reminding her that she and Jacob are, in fact, not alone, but she remains firm. Resolute. Decided.

Jacob is not going to Forks, but she is.

"What do we need to do?"

A/N: Hi friends. I'm sorry it's been a while. We must once again send love to bestie and beta-extraordinaire Hyacinthed, without who this chapter would still be sitting abandoned on my draft pile and my sanity would still be coasting along the edge of a cliff. Her skills are unrivalled.