fifty-nine

(Leah)

Before she even understood what the word imprint truly meant, Leah had known that accepting Jacob as a permanent fixture in her life meant she would have to accept his brothers, too. What she hadn't fully considered at the time, however, was the fact that by doing so she was committing herself to never knowing a moment of peace and quiet ever again.

Her first day at work, it turns out, is no exception. Almost immediately, her boys begin to descend upon her like small children struggling with separation anxiety, not even allowing her the time to make small talk with her colleagues in the staff room or become familiar with the clinic's terrible filing system that her mom's already warned her about.

Not children. Puppies. Puppies with empty wallets who are all fighting to win the most money from the pack's latest betting pools.

Typical.

There are seven pools that Leah is currently aware of, five of which Quil is taking credit for, including the two that are specifically focused on her first day at work and the distinct probability of her getting into some sort of trouble. One is about Paul and Rachel. There are also whispers of another pool circulating about their friendly neighbourhood bloodsuckers, though Leah has chosen to steer clear of that particular bet, for once allowing the boys to lose their pocket money without her involvement.

The first pool revolving around her is fairly straightforward. Most of the guys have declared that she will reduce a patient to tears at least once, with the winner being decided on who can accurately predict how early in the day this occurs. For instance, Paul has placed a bet that she won't last more than an hour without losing her temper, while Quil has wagered she'll hold out until two o'clock. In a remarkable display of confidence, Jacob has staked the entire contents of his wallet on the line—a sum Leah knows to be fifteen dollars and thirty-seven cents—and boldly declared she will manage to hold her tongue for the whole day.

The second is even simpler, an easy win for whoever correctly guesses which wolf will be the first to interrupt her day by making a nuisance of themselves, ultimately leading to her being summoned to a meeting with her new boss—after she inevitably hauls the offending wolf out of the waiting room by their ear, of course. The whole pack are involved, even the imprints: seven people have bet on Embry, three have bet on Jacob, whilst Jared has put down five bucks on both.

If anyone had asked her, Leah might have followed Jared's lead. She probably would have even considered adding phone calls to the bet, too. No one explicitly said that they were off limits, but then again, she wouldn't be surprised if Quil intentionally left loopholes when deciding the rules.

As fate would have it, the phone starts ringing only half an hour after she's learned how to navigate the appointment book. Her new supervisor, Helen (who, incidentally, is also Kim's mother, heaven help her), offers an encouraging smile and tells her there's no time like the present to get started.

"Go ahead," she says, smiling still.

Leah reaches for the phone, hesitant.

Call her suspicious, or simply well-versed in the ways of the pack dynamics, but she has a feeling she knows whose voice she's going to hear.

"Health Center," she chirps with a forced cheerfulness, inwardly cringing at herself underneath Helen's watchful eyes. "How can I help?"

"Oh good," Embry says, "I thought someone else would—"

Leah slams down the phone.

Helen Conweller stares at her in alarm, eyes wide.

"Telemarketer," she explains before she can be asked why she's already trying to damage company property.

"Oh," Helen says, clearly relieved. "Well, there's always the next one."

Leah spends the next hour silently hoping for a freak storm to knock out the phone lines. Anything that will tell Embry to take a hint and leave her alone until she clocks off. She'll even take a complete power outage if it means she can get to the end of the day without being forced to explain why her family lacks appropriate boundaries—although Helen might have some ideas, given that her daughter is practically married to Jared.

It's when Helen takes her lunch break, leaving Leah to learn the complicated filing system, that the telephone rings again.

Given that less than four hundred people live in La Push and nine of them are masters at annoying the shit out of her, Leah is rather tempted to start her own bet on who's making this call.

"Health Clinic."

"Hello," replies a deep voice, too deep to be real. She recognises it instantly. "I'd like to make an appointment, please."

"I'm sorry," she answers politely, "I think you've confused us with the animal clinic."

She puts the phone down, feeling extremely pleased with herself, and she's still smiling when it rings again less than ten seconds later.

"Health Clinic."

"How did you know it was me?" Quil demands.

"Caller display," she lies. The single phone on the front desk is even older than the one in her kitchen at home; she twirls the yellowing cord around her fingers, half expecting it to snap. "And I know all your numbers." This is not a lie.

"Dammit," Quil says, and he hangs up.

Hoping that will be enough to stop Embry and Quil from calling her ever again—or for the rest of the day, at least—she continues tackling the patient files, simultaneously cursing them and vowing to devise a better organisational method, even if she only unveils it as a parting gift to Helen before quitting her new job due to sheer boredom.

She sees little of her mom, who is in and out of the clinic on home visits all day. After her lunch, Helen pops her head out of the back office every now and then, presumably to check that Leah hasn't died of boredom (it's a close thing), but otherwise leaves her to get settled in given that there are no appointments in the book.

(It's a slow day, Helen tells her.)

Thankfully, she has been saved from painfully repetitive and awkward first-time introductions with the other staff on duty owing to the fact that she knows most of them already; her mom has worked at the clinic since before she was born, and she's been a patient often enough—most recently when she sliced her hand in Charlie Swan's kitchen and Jacob almost had to be hauled out of the examination room by her mom.

Leah idly traces the scar on her palm and wonders what the rest of September will bring. She has three weeks until she starts college, three weeks to get as many shifts in at the clinic and earn as much money as she can, three weeks to get used to being somewhat of a fully functioning adult before she's back in a classroom again and complaining about being inundated with assignments.

She can't wait.

No doubt there will be problems along the way. Sam and his motley crew haven't picked up a single trace of the Cullens since the wedding; for all Leah knows, Bella and her bloodsucker are still on their honeymoon and the Cullens are waiting for the happy couple to return before they make any concrete plans. Maybe they won't come back at all. Or maybe they will, and Bella will have red eyes, and they'll stay in Forks, and—

There's no point dwelling on it. After all, she won't be the one tearing the leeches to shreds, will she? Instead, she'll be the one left to pick up the pieces of the pack when they cross the treaty line and go to war, and—

No. She's not thinking about it. She's pretty sure she had a few years shaved off her life after Jacob got hurt, maybe even earned a few premature grey hairs. Having to go through that again . . . Well, she'll probably kill Jacob herself next time. And then she'll torch the suckers for all the hassle. Billy will probably help if she asks nicely. Charlie, too, once she tells him the truth.

Charlie has been spending more time on the Rez than ever since the wedding. His presence is a constant reminder that, soon, he will be told Bella is dead and they will all have to hold him up in his grief, when only six months ago they were struggling to hold themselves up after Harry died.

Six months.

Leah can hardly believe it.

Some days, she is unable to support her grief, to stand, moments when it strikes unexpectedly and all she can focus on is the pain of losing her dad. There are mornings that Jacob has to coax her out of bed and prove there is something getting up for. There are mornings, days, weeks that she has to do the same for her mom. How they are going to do that for Charlie when he loses his daughter, she has no idea.

Thankfully the phone rings before she can dive deeper down that rabbit hole.

"Health Clinic."

"Why'd you answer the phone like that if you know it's us?" asks Embry. "Quil said—"

"She's a liar!" Quil's voice yells in the background.

Of course they're together. Quil and Embry are as much of a package deal as Collin and Brady.

"Hear that, Leah?" Quil shouts then. "You're dead to me!"

Leah rolls her eyes. "It's called being professional," she tells Embry. "Besides, what if you morons actually needed an appointment? Is that why you keep calling? Has Quil found scabies on his feet again?"

"Hang on, let me ask." There's a beat of silence on the line. "She said you've got scabies and you need an emergency appointment," Embry says, no doubt delivering the news to his brother with a grave expression. "Does three o'clock work?"

"What's scabies?" Quil asks.

"Dunno. Think it's like when your feet get all thick and bumpy—"

"That's warts," Leah interrupts.

"Now she's saying you've got warts."

"Warts!" Quil cries. "Right, that's it, give me the phone."

"She doesn't want to speak to you."

"Why not?" he demands.

"You're contagious, and likely going to be dead in a matter of days," Embry says grimly. "It's a tough time, you understand; she's very upset—"

Quil growls. "Give me that—"

Leah puts the phone down with a sigh. She just knew that she was going to regret putting up the clinic's number on the Blacks' fridge. By now, if she's really unlucky, the whole pack will have memorised it and she's going to have to lie through her teeth to Helen about cold calls.

Now all she needs is Jacob to walk in. At this rate, her boys are going to be left completely penniless when they all remember that Jared put his money on Jacob and Embry interrupting her day. He's probably rubbing his hands together thinking it's the easiest money he's ever going to make.

He wouldn't be wrong. Jacob is already on his way.

Leah senses that he is close by before he even walks through the door. It's amazing, really, that he's managed to stay away this long.

She picks up a patient file and pretends to read whilst she waits, even if it's only so she can put on a show of being interrupted. She's probably breaking a hundred rules just by even looking at confidential case notes, let alone on her first day before she's signed anything officially binding, but she figures there's nobody around to see and she can't allow Jacob to think that she's getting paid for twiddling her thumbs. (She is.)

Just as she makes the rather unfortunate discovery that her seventh-grade teacher's name is plastered all over the file, Jacob enters the waiting room, making a beeline for the front desk.

"We've got to do something about Paul and Rachel," he says.

"Hi, honey," she says without looking up. "How's your first day at work going? Are you settling in? Are the people nice?" Then, in a lighter tone, she adds, "Oh, it's fine. Apart from all the stupid calls I'm getting from your stupid friends, I'm actually really enjoying it. Thanks for asking."

Finally setting the folder aside, she glances up to find Jacob gazing at her in a way that typically suggests he finds her quite endearing and he's willing to indulge her.

"Hi honey," he says, folding his arms on the counter and leaning in closer. "How's your first day at work going?"

She fixes her stupid boyfriend and his stupid smirk with a withering gaze, hoping her unimpressed expression speaks volumes, and says, "You realise you've just made Jared a very rich man."

Jacob glances at the clock on the far wall. "It's nearly four-thirty. Have you made anyone cry yet?"

"Not yet."

"Then I don't care about losing five dollars," he says. "If you can make it another half an hour, you'll have won me enough money that we can go to the movies, if you want. I think the new Pirates of the Caribbean is still playing. We can get popcorn and everything."

"I want nachos," she tells him, straight-faced. "And a burger on the way home."

"Done. Shall we discuss the headache that is your cousin and my sister during the previews?" he asks. "Or would you rather do it on a full stomach?"

"Can I vote never?"

"No." He flashes her a rueful half-smile. "Sorry."

She sighs. "If they're starting to cause the pack that much of a problem, then just talk to her, Jake."

"No way am I doing it. That's why I'm here, not there," he says as if it's plainly obvious.

"And I suppose you're waiting for me to say I'll do your dirty work for you?" she asks. "Not happening. Besides, Embry and I already voted about this, and you lost, so it has to be you."

"When did you vote?" he demands. "I didn't know anything about a vote."

"You weren't there."

"Then I demand a recount."

"No," she says with a sardonic smile. "Sorry."

Jacob drops his forehead onto the desk with a groan. "Why does it have to be me?"

The urge to lean over the front desk and shake him is all-consuming—fortunately for her, and unfortunately for him, the waiting room is completely empty, devoid of any potential witnesses—but somehow Leah manages to keep her voice down and her hands to herself. Her mom would kill her for getting fired on her first day. That, and she doesn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of winning another bet at her expense.

"She's your sister, Jake."

"So?" he whines, petulant. "He's your cousin."

"I think sister wins against cousin in this scenario," she says. "In any scenario."

Jacob quails slightly underneath her baleful stare but, to his credit, he manages to hold firm. "Name one."

"This one!" she hisses, exasperated.

"Everything okay out here?" Helen cranes her head around the door to the back office with a concerned expression that swiftly morphs into a bright smile. "Oh, Jacob, hi. I should have known it was you."

"Hi, Mrs Conweller."

"Helen, please. Mrs Conweller makes me sound so old," she says, nose wrinkling. "Are you here to steal Leah away?" She checks her watch and then looks at Leah, who hopes that the look on her face translates to something like please no and help. "I suppose it'd be okay, considering it's your first day and all."

If either Helen or Jacob notices how forceful she is whilst zipping up her bag and pulling on her coat, they don't say a word. Helen because she likely realises she's stepped into a mild domestic (and seems amused by it), and Jacob because he knows he's about to get his ass handed to him on a silver platter (and seems terrified of it).

(Good.)

But first things first—she has to do something about Paul and Rachel, because it's clear that nobody else will, and there's no way in hell she's going to spend the rest of the day fighting with Jacob about it.

"Go and find Paul," she tells him once they're out of the clinic. She holds her hand out for the key to the Rabbit, expectant, and feels a small shred of triumph when Jacob presses it against her palm without a word. "Tell him to wait for me in the garage."

"Should I be scared?" he asks.

"I don't know," she says, "should you be?"

Just because she's folded and is going to do his dirty work for him, exactly what she said she wouldn't do, that doesn't mean she's going to let him off easy.

Plus, it's fun to watch him sweat. She always enjoys that part.

On sunny days like today, finding Rachel isn't an issue. It's pulling her away from her paperback novel and cutting short her afternoon of lounging in the sun which is the problem. Leah has to feign a girl-related emergency back at home before Rachel is willing to leave the beach, and then she has to suffer ten minutes of her sister complaining that being left alone with the boys for a few hours does not count as an emergency, Leah and why can't you ask Kim to keep you company? Why me? over and over again.

It's a relief when she throws the Rabbit into park outside of the garage. Unusually, only one of the doors is open, but the sight of Jacob standing sentry on the threshold tells her that he's taken her instructions seriously and is making sure that Paul stays inside. God knows what he's told him.

"Oh look," Rachel drawls, "a welcome party."

If only she knew.

"He's probably been standing there all day, waiting for you," she says then, full of genuine pity for her little brother. "Poor kid."

Thankfully, she's unsuspecting enough that she follows Leah out of the car without hesitation.

Arguably, the hardest part—actually getting Rachel here—is over. The next part, which is undoubtedly going to include the use of force, will be easy. Easy for Leah, anyway. Quil and Embry would be the first to say that she excels in throwing her weight around.

She wastes no time with pleasantries.

"Jacob, out," she orders, voice firm. Her gaze shifts to Paul, who's comfortably ensconced in one of the weathered lawn chairs inside, calmly awaiting his fate. She flashes him a brief smile. "You, stay."

Too smart for his own good, Paul responds with a lazy salute. "Yes, ma'am."

"You set me up," Rachel accuses.

"I think it's called an intervention," Paul remarks unhelpfully.

"I prefer the term betrayal," she snaps back, eyes narrowed at Leah and Jacob.

Leah's only response is to seize Rachel's arm before she can escape. Perfectly reasonable, she thinks.

"You, in," she says, all but bullying her into the garage. "You two are going to talk."

"I don't want to talk—"

"Tough." Leah gives one last final shove, one last look at her sister that says sort this out and now. "Knock when you're done."

She shuts the door as soon as Rachel is over the threshold, ignoring all protests, and holds the handles with all her might whilst Jacob snaps the lock into place to the tune of Rachel pounding her fists against the wood.

"What do we do now?" he asks.

"Hope she doesn't kill him, I guess."

"Be serious."

"I am."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Then I suppose Sam will butt in," she says with a sigh. "You know how much he loves holding wolf court about these things. Before we know it, the whole council will be involved and Rachel will be on the first flight out."

The thought seems to strike Jacob like a ton of bricks. He pounds once on the garage doors, and he yells, "Sort your shit out!"

"I hate you!" Rachel shrieks.

Jacob's expression seems strangely relieved all of a sudden. "She'll be fine," he says. "Watch this."

Gently, he inserts the key into the padlock. It springs open soundlessly, and he cautiously withdraws the latch, not making a single squeak. A simple push from Rachel or Paul will set them free.

"We'll leave you to it!" Jacob calls out, and he hurriedly drags Leah in the opposite direction before her laughter can give the game away.

With the money he wins from the betting pool (a grand total of eighty-four bucks and a handful of change), Jacob fills the Rabbit with a full tank of gas and drives them all the way to Port Angeles for the next showing of Pirates of the Caribbean.

"Nachos and a burger," Leah reminds him.

He squeezes her knee with the sunniest grin he has to offer, still riding the high of his victory, and glances in the rearview mirror. "Nachos, Em?" he asks.

"I'll share with Leah," says Embry from the backseat.

Jacob rolls his eyes. "Of course you will."

"No, he won't," Leah mutters.

(They all know it's a lie—she will probably end up eating about five nachos before she gives the rest away, but she doesn't mind, because she knows Jacob will share his popcorn with her.)

"Quil?" Jacob asks then. "What're you having?"

"Dunno," he answers from beside Embry, thoughtful. "Nachos sound good. What toppings are you gonna get?"

"Cheese and jalapenos" says Embry, knowing that Quil believes that the mix is more of an abomination than pineapple on pizza, and it's the only way to keep his brother's hands off his food. "Salsa on one side for Leah, and sour cream for me."

Leah glances over her shoulder, smiling at the disgust on Quil's face.

"Suppose I'll get a hot dog, then. You're still buying, right?" he asks Jacob. "I purposefully forgot to bring any money."

It takes seconds for them to start bickering, and it lasts for the rest of the journey until Jacob throws his wallet behind him.

"Have at it," he says, laughing when Quil and Embry begin scrabbling to be the first to grab it. Quil wins, naturally, and complains impatiently as he has to wait for Leah and Jacob to get out of the car first so they can pull their seats forward.

Quil takes off immediately, wallet in hand and food on his mind, barely looking both ways before he crosses the street.

"I'll save you a seat!" Embry yells, dashing after Quil.

"Why do I get the feeling he's talking to you, not me?" Jacob asks as he locks the car.

"Because he is."

"My best friend and my girlfriend," he says. "Who knew."

"My best friend," she tells him, grinning.

"How could I forget?" But he's smiling, too, reaching for her, and she knows she's about to be enveloped in one of those embraces that feel home, her heart skittering stupidly as his long fingers wrap over the woven bracelet on her wrist and he drapes her hands over his shoulders and pulls her in by the waist.

With a contented sigh, she leans in, resting her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart that follows the same cadence as her own. She's so in love that, sometimes, she wants to choke on it, still scarcely able to believe that she can feel this much for one person and survive.

But she has.

She will.

They stay like that, reluctant to part, oblivious to the world around them until they hear their friends calling. Here, in the safety of his arms, she does not have to worry about tomorrow, or the next day. She doesn't think about anything, or anyone. Just her. Just Jacob. Together.

Their bubble breaks, eventually, but Jacob's warmth lingers, and his fingers waste no time twisting through hers.

"Okay?" he asks.

She nods, because it's true. Tonight, she's going to the movies with her boyfriend and their best friends.

The rest can wait.

A/N: Fin!

If I ever find the strength to write a sequel to follow the events of Breaking Dawn, it would likely be posted on the same story on FFn (so you'll get a story alert if subscribed) and posted as another part of the series on AO3. I'm not exactly sure how it'd all work at the moment, especially if Leah doesn't go wolf, but that's a problem for another day.

If I don't write a sequel (or I do, and you don't want to read it - I honestly wouldn't blame you) then I would recommend pretending Breaking Dawn never happens (as I often do) and that Jacob and Leah are left to live happily ever after. Leah goes to college, Jacob quits phasing, they both graduate, grow up, and the biggest headache they ever endure is deciding whether their spare bedroom will be used for children or for Embry (or both, whichever takes your fancy).

Thanks:

To Hyacinthed, to Lacey-not-Casey, and to Casey-not-Lacey for carrying this story (and me) to the end. To the crowd who originally gave it life. To the AO3 crew for keeping it alive. And to everyone who recommended this fic across the internet. Thank you for your comments/reviews and feedback, whether that was once or twice or every chapter, you are truly some of the most insightful bunch of people.

To everyone who subscribed to both story and author alerts and suffered my trash WIPs being posted (and then abandoned) whilst they patiently waited for the next chapter of BWYA, you are the real heroes.

Thank you again. See you on the other side xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox