forty-two.

(Jacob)

After several weeks of Leah constantly reminding them all that she is within touching distance of graduating, weeks of throwing her flashcards at the nearest person and demanding they quiz her, the world and its mother are suddenly forbidden from mentioning anything to do with her impending graduation. It doesn't matter how proud Sue is of her, or how badly the Pack want to celebrate — under pain of death, the words graduation and finals are not to be uttered. And God help them if they even think about mentioning valedictorian.

(Sue cried for the rest of the day after Leah's meeting with the Principal, and Seth hasn't stopped smiling since. Nobody can begrudge the kid, really, considering how infectious his happiness is; Seth is completely impervious to the sense of foreboding that tends to follow his brothers and sister around these days, and they all quietly envy him for it, not-so-secretly wishing they could patrol with him for the distraction his thoughts provide.)

Jacob finds Leah's threats of violence amusing, personally. Endearing, even. He has long since learned to not take her words to heart.

Embry and Quil, however, have learned no such lessons.

If Jacob thinks it's amusing, then it isn't surprising that the pair of idiots find the whole thing downright hilarious. They have, of course, ignored Leah's warnings and made it their mission to do little else but mercilessly tease her. If anything, they are encouraged by the near-misses of textbooks launched at their heads, and it's only because of their quick reflexes that they're not sporting injuries like badges of honour (which Jacob knows they would absolutely do if given the chance).

They're not complete idiots, though. It's clear that they know what they're doing by providing the distraction — clear to Jacob, at least, and he is grateful for it. With Leah being so freaked out by the prospect of failing her exams, and with the guys feeding into it, Finals Week is doing a good job of completely taking her mind off everything else looming on their horizon.

Call him selfish, or crazy, but Jacob finds it . . . easier, somehow, to get through the day when Leah's anxiety isn't pulsating down the imprint bond at all hours, if only because his already-fraying sanity would be in shreds if he knew that she was barely functioning, either. Thankfully she has something else to focus on and isn't lying awake at all hours, suffering nightmares — mostly because her cramming sessions are draining her so thoroughly that not even her subconscious has room for anything other than what is coming up in her next exam.

Jacob only knows this because he's the one lying awake at all hours. He spends far too many nights staring up at the ceiling, counting Leah's peaceful breaths and heartbeats beside him, wondering if he will live to hear them again should the Italian bloodsuckers arrive to desecrate the reservation.

When he's not doing that, he's allowing Sam to drive him into the dirt with all the extra patrols. He allows it because the alternative is making a trip to Seattle to sort out the problem himself — a plan that is, unsurprisingly, backed wholeheartedly by most of his brothers. It's all Sam can do to keep them under lock and key.

But not all of them.

Jacob doesn't know if Sam has yet figured out that his Alpha Orders have had no effect on him since That Day — otherwise known as The Fight, as the Pack are still calling it in hushed whispers — but Jacob is smart enough not to draw attention to himself. He nods and shuts his mouth when commanded and he follows his Alpha's will, but there are times he wonders how far he'd get to Seattle before Sam ordered him back . . . or tried to, anyway, before he realised the truth.

That Sam hasn't worked it all out already is testament to his determination and dedication to schedule them on opposite patrols; their shifts barely cross one another, and for good reason. They don't want to listen to each other's thoughts.

They will have to eventually, though. And soon — far sooner than they'd like.

They are halfway through the week when Sam awards Jacob a rare day off. He gives no explanation for his sudden charitable mood, although Jacob knows without a shadow of a doubt that Leah has had something to do with it; her schedule might be just as hectic as the Pack's, but she has still been allocating time to berate its Alpha for being such a tyrant. Not to his face (which she'd undoubtedly punch, if she wouldn't break her hand trying), but instead via poorly disguised warnings from whoever is stupid enough to carry them back to him.

(This is usually Embry, who is always willing to stir the pot on Leah's behalf, although it hasn't gone unnoticed that Paul has been stepping up to the mark in recent days. Ever since Harry died, actually — Jacob has only recently noticed because Paul is the type who would rather gouge out his own eyes than admit how much prides himself on looking after his family.

The Clearwaters have always had Paul's automatic loyalty simply through the grace of being his cousins once or twice removed through their mothers. And luckily for them — or rather, luckily for Leah and her meddling — becoming Pack has only enforced that bond tenfold for Paul, which means that he will do her dirty work without much questioning . . . when she's not arguing with him about pizza toppings, that is.)

Naturally, the universe — who is seemingly blind to Jacob's ardent desire for one single day of peace — dashes his hopes mid-morning, when the phone's shrill ring cuts through the otherwise blissful silence.

He grudgingly picks up the phone. Nearby, Leah is sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by her textbooks and notepads and flashcards, elbow-deep in a cramming session for her upcoming Calculus paper. Or at least, that's what she'd have the world believe. She might have her eyes on her textbook and her pen in her hand, but Jacob isn't easily fooled — not by her, not anymore. He knows that she's listening with rapt attention to every word. She doesn't need extra-sensitive hearing to know what exactly it is on the other end of the line or what they're saying.

What Bella is saying. Because who else would it be?

Leah waits for him to slot the phone back into its cradle before breaking character. "Plans, darling?" she asks sweetly.

Before he can answer her, Quil makes himself known from across the room. He is sprawled out in front of the television, mindlessly flicking through every television channel available to him and somehow still managing to cause trouble. "Hasn't that girl got anything better to do?"

Jacob glares at his friend, silently wishing that Quil would take a hint already — just because he also has some well-earned downtime doesn't mean that he has to spend it here. "I could ask you the same question. Haven't you got anyone else you can go and annoy?"

"Leave him be," Leah chides gently.

Quil turns triumphant, and he lets it show. He pokes his tongue out, dangling his freakishly long legs with exaggerated movements over the arm of the loveseat. "Yeah, Jake, leave me be."

Leah's sigh of resignation over the pages of her textbook cuts them both off before more can be said — which might be in Jacob's favour, mostly because she would likely slap him for the kind of words he's been thinking, anyway.

She looks at him again. "So, when should we expect her?"

"I gotta be at the treaty line in an hour or so," he tells them both, tiredly resigning himself to defeat. Still, it doesn't stop him from gesturing rudely at his brother. "Her bloodsuckers are going hunting and they need us to babysit."

From the looks on both their faces, Leah and Quil are clearly very much of the same mind that there is no us involved in this. Jacob can't really blame them. Leah has bigger things on her plate right now, and not even Quil is stupid enough to willingly give up his day off to help out the Cullens.

Jacob makes his exhausted feet move before he can be consumed on the spot by familiar bitterness. He is being used by Bella and the Cullens, again, but what's worse is that he's allowing it. And if that wasn't enough, everyone in this room knows it, too. It's almost unbearable, except they can't do anything about it because they need to know what's going on, and save for Jacob charging through Forks and storming the Cullen's lair to demand answers, this is the only way.

(Bella insists that describing the Cullen manor as a lair is both offensive and out of touch, but old habits die hard).

Fucking bloodsuckers. They've had decades to learn how to play the game, to perfect the art of manipulating people and get them right where they want them, whereas Jacob feels as if he has only just skimmed the surface of those kinds of tactics. And as for Bella . . . She knows damn well that he would never be able to leave her to her own devices whilst her bloodsuckers left her undefended. She just doesn't seem to quite understand that her guaranteed protection is not a Jacob thing, but rather more of a Pack thing. They protect all human life — even those who want to throw it away.

At least this way, with Bella close by, Jacob might get to take a shot at a vampire he's actually allowed to kill. He's been salivating over taking down the redhead for what feels like an eternity.

"Hey," Leah murmurs, drawing his attention.

It works.

They lock eyes across the kitchen table and, before he knows it, he is standing by her side, draping his arm around her shoulders and leaning against her chair. Against her. He feels better immediately.

Leah reaches for him in the same instant, looking at him with more concern than he deserves. Her hair is pulled back, kept in place with nothing but a pencil that's peeking out just above her ponytail — a look that he has come to associate with any last-minute studying before she sits an exam, one that is usually partnered with a slightly manic expression in her eyes. God knows what she looks like when she's actually taking the exam.

The Quileute seniors are given a reprieve from full-time attendance during their last week, and she's not sitting her Calculus paper until this afternoon, meaning that she is free to study where she wishes. It is a stroke of luck that Jacob doesn't have to patrol until tonight and gets to spend the morning with her — or, at least, thought he would get to spend the morning with her, minus Quil. And Bella. They have hardly spent any time in daylight together since . . .

. . . He honestly can't remember when. Still, he knows better than to tell his stubborn imprint to take a break, so he is happy to be in her general vicinity whilst she studies until one of them has to leave again.

"Just call her back," she says quietly, though Quil doesn't seem to be listening now; he has taken the hint and faded into the background, pretending that he's more focused on the television. "Tell her you're busy. She's got a whole damn hockey team to look after her — I'm sure at least one of them can stay behind. I'd rather you caught up on some sleep."

"No, it's fine," he says, squeezing her shoulders. "Anyway, we gotta find out what's happening, right?" he asks the room with bravado that not even he believes. Six months ago, he would have jumped at spending an afternoon with Bella. But now . . .

His imprint is less than impressed. "So we'll figure something else out. If they want to withhold information, then we'll stop helping them. Simple."

He doesn't answer, finding himself far too focused on the way Leah's fingers splay over his lower back, inching towards his hip and holding him there, keeping him in place, and it's all he can do to not to close his eyes and melt into her touch.

"Jake, seriously. Look at you. You're dead on your feet. Literally."

She's right, of course, proved by the yawn which quickly overtakes him. If she hadn't spoken, he's sure that he would have happily fallen asleep where he stood. But she's not the only stubborn person in this room. They're imprinted for a reason.

"It's fine," he says. He straightens his back and attempts to shake off his fatigue; he's not about to give up now. "I don't mind. Besides, I'll be happier once we have answers."

Leah makes a vague, borderline disbelieving noise from the back of her throat, but otherwise doesn't press the issue. They've both made their points; they both know they've been heard, and — with her, at least — he is free to make his own choices. Just as she is. It's their number one rule.

"Alright, then," she says eventually, shaking her head and sighing. Jacob thinks it's with slightly more despair than affection. "But if she ends up in the ER because you fell asleep on the job, don't come crying to me. That's if Edward doesn't kill you first, of course."

He smiles; he's not worried. "After you say I told you so to my dead body, will you avenge me?"

"Yes," she vows, not a trace of humour about her.

God, he loves her. But blurting out something he's never said before with Quil the Blabbermouth within earshot is just cause for a lifetime of ribbing from the whole Pack. And yet, stupidly, he still can't bring himself to say it at any other time. With everything they are dealing with, there just never seems to be a Right Moment. He wants her to believe that he means it, that he's saying it because it's true and not because he's counting his last days.

He'll end up spilling his guts and embarrassing her in front of her little brother at this rate. Or Billy, or Charlie (who is already suspicious enough). Or worse, Sam. Not that Jacob particularly cares if he does, but all the same . . .

He stoops down to kiss her instead, long and purposeful. When he eventually pulls away, the colour in her cheeks rises, but she doesn't wave him off. He'd even go as far as to say a smile is pulling at her mouth, the tension in her shoulders significantly less.

"Get a room," Quil jeers.

"You're in it," Leah bites back, picking up her pen and studying her textbook again. Slowly, she begins jotting down a few equations, though she doesn't seem to be paying much attention to what she's doing. She hums to herself. "I know what you're doing, Jake."

"What's that?" he asks innocently, dropping into the chair beside hers. He drapes an arm over the back of it, stretching his legs out.

"Trying to hold up the damn sky by yourself, that's what," she mutters, not looking away from her notepad. "You can't keep everyone happy."

"I don't care about everyone."

"Then make me happy and start charging for your time so we can afford to put Quil in daycare."

"Hey!"

They both ignore him. "Great idea, honey," he tells her, tugging on her ponytail. "Maybe I'll ask Cullen for hazard pay."

Across the room, Quil stops grumbling and perks up — undoubtedly cheered by the mention of money that's not coming out of his own pocket. If anyone cared to look closely, they'd probably see the dollar signs in his eyes. "Anyone wanna bet if she cries this time? Jake?"

"How are you not broke yet? It's only Wednesday and you've lost every bet you've made this week."

"Shhh." Leah waves her hand at him. "If he wants to throw away his big boy allowance from his mommy, let him," she says, looking at their friend with the glint of a challenge in her eyes. "Five bucks."

"Ten," Quil counters, grinning. "Call me confident."

"Stupid, more like," Jacob mumbles.

"Fifteen," Leah declares. She awkwardly begins gathering up her books — her right hand is still bandaged, but she'll be damned if she accepts help. "And if she's still here when I get back, I'll be the one to make her do it."

Quil punches the air. "Hell yes! You're on, Clearwater."

"Stupid," Jacob says again.

He'd bet twenty.

At twelve o'clock on the dot, after leaving his imprint to the perils of her Calculus exam, Jacob is sitting in his car at the treaty line and wondering what the hell he is doing with his life.

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel whilst he waits, the beat of impatience only adding to his growing frustrations. It's bad enough that he's giving up previous sleeping time to play babysitter for someone who is probably going to be thirsting for their blood in a few weeks (Leah's, probably, if his streak of bad luck continues the way it's going), but waiting around for a bloodsucker who can't even bother to be punctual?

Some things are just unforgivable.

If he were any less of a masochist, he would just suck it up and talk to one of them over the phone to get the answers he wants. Except that he almost crushed Sam's handset the last time he did that, and the only other option is to have another face-to-face conversation — something else he wants to avoid at all costs, mostly owing to the fact his nose will burn and his skin will itch uncontrollably (and he probably won't keep his temper in check, especially without Leah to act as the angel on his right). Acting as the Cullens' hired help is the best compromise he can make. And as far as he's concerned, the more time Bella spends away from the leeches, the better. Right? She might be confident in her decision to join them, but it wouldn't hurt for her to understand just what exactly she's giving up.

He waits a few minutes more. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

. . . They did say midday, didn't they?

By the time the car of his nightmares finally pulls up, Jacob doesn't have the patience to wait much longer. He's also feeling like a little bit of an asshole, so he has absolutely zero qualms about hitting his palm against the horn.

Twice.

It's worth the smug satisfaction he feels when he hears Cullen's growl from the other car. The bloodsucker sounds pissed enough that any wildlife within a mile of them has likely scattered, but Jacob holds firm.

"That's extremely impolite."

Bella merely sighs. "That's Jake," she says by way of an explanation.

Jacob's fingers flex over the horn again in response. Unfortunately, Bella knows him well enough that she's probably guessed what he's about to do and she's opening the silver piece-of-shit's door, hurrying across the treaty line before he can act. She doesn't even throw a farewell behind her. Neither does she apologise for being late as she climbs into the Rabbit.

Jacob already has his foot on the gas by the time she shuts the door behind her. "Hey, Bella. How's it?"

She nervously reaches for her seatbelt, throwing him a side glance that makes her lack of faith in his driving skills crystal clear as he makes a U-turn and speeds back towards La Push. "Did you have to be so rude?"

"I could say the same about your bloodsucker. Can't he afford a watch?"

For what might be the first time in her life, Bella doesn't immediately jump to Edward's defence. Jacob feels her looking at him again; this time, it is a long, penetrating stare that makes him feel like a lab rat being scrutinised head to toe.

"What?"

"Nothing," she says, although she looks unhappy with whatever she has found. "Where's Leah?"

"School," he tells her, tilting his head a little closer to the open window for the fresh air — mostly to stay awake, but also because Bella reeks of bloodsucker. The stench she usually carries as a consequence of being around them every day seems so much stronger than normal, or maybe it's because his defences are much lower than normal. Maybe Cullen purposefully marked her before her visit.

Who knows.

Who cares.

Jacob takes a deep, calming breath, regretting it as soon as his nose burns sharply. "What do you want to do today?"

"Let's just hang out at your place for now," Bella suggests a little hesitantly, staring at him again. "We can ride our bikes later."

"Sure, sure," he agrees, yawning. The breeze from the window is doing little to keep him in the here and now. All his sluggish brain can think of is that he's going to have to spend a whole day decontaminating the Rabbit.

"Are you all right, Jake?"

"Just tired. Patrols are kicking my ass. We're running double time because of the redhead but it's like we're chasing a ghost." He's almost overcome by his ninetieth yawn of the day. "Your lot haven't seen her, have they?"

"No, I don't think so."

The answer is expected, as vague as it is. Still, he's obligated to check. "And the Italian leeches?"

Bella picks at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Alice says she's looking," she says quietly, "but everyone seems pretty convinced the Volturi aren't involved with anything that's going on."

Not everyone, Jacob thinks, rubbing his face. He urges the Rabbit on. "But they know about the loopholes, right? Because I've been thinking about it, and Leah's right: your vampires aren't totally infallible, despite what you think. They have no way to tell if the Italian leeches—"

"The Volturi."

"Whatever, you know I don't care. Oh, fine," he says at her pitiful scowl. "If the Volturi decided to send someone else to do their bidding, then how do you know? Take your bedroom stalker for example. Your psychic didn't see that coming, did she?"

"Can we not talk about this? I just want to hang out — like old times. Not debate how many people want to kill me, or who's in league with who."

"What else is there to talk about? Your special plans for graduation?" He lets a beat pass, waiting to feel regret for upsetting her, but the sharp pain doesn't come, not even when she recoils a little at the bite behind his words. "Or have you changed your mind?"

She doesn't answer.

He doesn't know how to interpret that. But then again, this is the whole reason he's asking. The whole reason he's pushing her like this. If she would just think, so much pain could be saved from both sides of the treaty line that separates them all.

"Have you?" he prods.

"I'm not thinking that far ahead. There's so much going on. And now Alice wants to throw a party," she complains, though her voice is just a touch too high. She's deflecting, trying to change the subject. "She's invited the whole town to her place, and it's not like anybody is going to turn her down. It's going to be horrible."

"The whole town, huh?" he asks dryly. "Wow."

Bella's eyes widen, mistaking his disinterest for insult. "I didn't mean . . . Of course you're invited, too," she says hurriedly. "It's meant to be my party, so I should be allowed to ask who I want."

"Gee, thanks."

She sighs. "I wish you would come, Jake. It would be more fun. For me, I mean."

"You don't have to save my feelings, Bella. A night in the crypt isn't exactly my idea of a party, anyway."

"Think about it," she pleads as La Push's Welcome! sign comes into view. "Please?"

"Sure, sure," he replies, dismissive. They both know he intends on doing nothing of the sort.

For all they know, this is the last time they're going to see one another.

The conversation lapses into silence, though it is not the comfortable kind that they had grown used to after the Cullens left. No, it is markedly awkward, the sort of quiet that stretches between strangers. He knows plenty about Bella: she detests music (even though Cullen has returned); her nightmares dwindle to a whisper when she's exhausted; she has permanent cravings for strawberry cheesecake. Even so, with the bloodsuckers back, she feels further away than ever; Jacob can't understand her anymore, their relationship no longer like reading a well-perused book, and the idea of her once-planned graduation present is entirely incomprehensible to him. Plus, with Leah in the picture, Bella's once endearing quirks have become lingering reminders that he was never enough for her, not even with Cullen gone.

That particular realisation is impossibly hard to forget.

Bella finds her voice when they're clambering out of the Rabbit, taking the muddy path towards the garage, and a tiny part of him just wishes she would keep her silence.

"Will we see Quil and Embry today?" she asks, her tone more subdued than in the car.

He shrugs. "Doubtful. Embry's out on patrol, and it's Quil's day off."

Bella's unsure expression momentarily shifts into something hopeful. "Can I borrow your phone? Maybe if we called—"

Her voice trails off when he shakes his head.

"He won't come," he says, wondering when his voice began to naturally take such a firm edge towards her.

"Does he . . . Do they not want to be friends anymore?" she asks, her voice a pitiful whisper.

Once upon a time, Jacob would have rushed to wrap an arm around her shoulder, relishing both the opportunity for physical touch and the ability to play protector. Now, he wonders whether Leah would consider this conversation a diplomatic disaster; he contemplates whether he can be frank with Bella.

He sighs, sinking tiredly onto an upturned crate. Bella perches uncomfortably by his workbench, avoiding touching any of the scattered components that litter every available surface in the garage.

"Bells . . . Bella. Any friendships you thought you had on the Rez ended when you chose him."

She crosses her arms petulantly, an uncharacteristic pout settling on her face. "I don't see why my relationship with Edward matters."

He laughs unexpectedly, not bothering to cover it with a cough. "Really? Did you think the Pack would endorse you becoming one of them? After their mere presence in Forks changed the entire trajectory of all of our lives?"

Bella's eyebrows pinch together. "I thought you liked being a wolf."

"I think I'd prefer finishing high school as a human. Plus, if Seth hadn't phased, Harry would still be alive. I can never forgive that." Not for Leah. Not for Seth. "His blood is on your precious Cullens' hands."

"Harry's death isn't my fault," she says softly, though the glassiness of her eyes tells him he has hit the mark. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry this happened to you. If things were different . . ."

"What?" Jacob asks incredulously, regretting this entire babysitting decision. He hasn't even gotten all of the answers he wanted, not really. "Do you really think I'd choose you if they left again?"

Bella takes a shuffling step towards him, her dark eyes gleaming in the afternoon light. "If things were different . . . You always said it would be as easy as breathing. We're Jake and Bells, remember? Maybe in a different life . . . Maybe we were meant to be."

"You having buyer's remorse?" he mutters gruffly, his tired mind swimming with the bizarreness of this interaction.

A million years ago, he would have leapt out of his skin for the mere opportunity to hear Bella breathe these words. Now, they land with a dull ache, reminding him of how much the two of them have changed. Now, he wants her to stay human, but he doesn't want her to stay human for him. He wants her to stay human for her.

"I want to be sure," she breathes, taking another step forward, her head tilted in an attempt to balance out the massive height discrepancy.

Is he dreaming? Has he finally reached the hallucination stage of sleep deprivation?

Bella suddenly lurches upwards on her tip-toes, pressing her too-cold lips to his. It lasts for only a second, but it is a second too long. Every cell in his body is screaming in protest, objections that resonate until all he can think is wrong wrong wrong.

"How does it go again, Quil? When the cat's away . . ."

Jacob steps backwards so suddenly that Bella stumbles, careening to catch her balance.

Leah is standing at the mouth of the garage, flanked by a stony-faced Quil, and any hopes he'd had for a quiet afternoon post-exam are summarily dashed.

"Leah—" Bella starts, cutting off when Leah raises a single hand.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kick your ass," she growls, her mouth twisted into a fierce scowl.

"It wasn't what you think," Bella pleads, her glassy eyes welling with unshed tears.

"Really? You want me to believe that you weren't taking advantage of Jacob's stupidity for the millionth time? That you weren't worming your way between us for a memory that will fade the moment the crypt-keeper bites you?"

Bella blinks. "I just . . . I wanted to say goodbye."

"Oh, I can certainly help with that," she snarls, starting forwards towards Bella.

Quil hooks a palm around Leah's bicep, though it's clear he has no real intention to restrain her as she pushes forwards.

He should stop them. It's his fault that Bella kissed him, his fault that Leah saw—

Leah's palm lands solidly on Bella's cheek, the tremendous crack of skin-on-skin resonating in the crowded garage. Only then does Quil make an actual effort to hold her back, tugging her until Bella is just out of reach.

"If you come near me or Jacob again, I will finish what I started, and you will regret ever breathing in his direction," Leah says slowly, staring Bella down with that unbending backbone of hers. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Bella whispers, her cheek rapidly reddening.

"Let's go, Swan," Quil sighs, wearily plucking the Rabbit's keys from the pegboard. "You're gonna have to walk from the treaty line, though. Mom will kill me if I get turned into puppy chow because of you."

"But—"

Leah's next snarl is far louder. She is all wolf; she never needed to phase to prove it. "No. Get the fuck off my Rez. Now," she spits, crossing her arms over her chest.

It's exactly the same stance that Bella took only minutes before, but instead of communicating weakness and insecurity, Leah transforms it into something entirely new; it's a show of power, of thinly veiled aggression, a clear declaration of surety.

Because even after kissing Bella . . . after everything, Leah is still sure about him.