twenty-one.

(Leah)

Though Jacob's laughter at his joke eventually fades, his grin at the appalled look on her face remains. Leah shies away from it, her cheeks reddening as she focuses on their entwined hands.

The warmth he gives off has her remembering what he told her yesterday about hardly anything feeling warm to him anymore, and she thinks that she must be affected, too, because his skin doesn't scorch hers the way it probably should.

109 degrees, he'd said. He should be dead, honestly, running that kind of fever. Does that mean her temperature is the same now, if his skin is not burning hers?

Probably, she thinks. Just another thing she's going to have to get used to, because Jacob has made it pretty clear that this is something which can't be fought — not unless she wants him to be in excruciating pain, anyway. But if this is messing with her body now . . . She can't help but ponder what else might have affected her. Altered her.

Has she changed without realising it? Has it changed her?

The question is impossible to consider with Jacob being so close, distracting her and clouding her head. Is that the imprint, too?

She sighs. "So what happens now?"

"I don't know," he says, his breath skittering over her skin. She doesn't have to sneak a glance at him to know that his eternally sunny grin has suddenly faded— she might finally be getting the hang of tracking his switch mood changes. "I'd say it's your call, but . . . honestly, I have no idea. Pretty sure this hasn't been done before."

That's why I was asking , she wants to say. What are we doing, exactly? What are we going to do?

But she's not quite brave enough to ask for those answers, not just yet, so what ends up coming out of her mouth is something else. "I mean, what happens with you and Sam? What are you going to do?"

"Oh. Kill him, I suppose," Jacob replies evenly.

She peeks up at him to find him smirking, though there's a touch of malice lingering there too, and she nods, as if his answer is the most acceptable thing in the world despite trying to stop him from doing exactly that less than half an hour ago. Except . . .

"You'd have to be in charge if you kill him," she reminds him, willing her tone to remain as even as she can manage.

"Nah. I'll give the pack to Paul. He's been dying to give me an order, especially since I kind of took Second from him."

"Second?"

Jacob's fingers tighten around hers a fraction, apprehensive. Sore subject, she thinks. "Second-in-command. Sam's the Alpha, I'm his Second, and Jared's his Third. It's just bloodline stuff," he tacks on defensively, dismissively, "—like what I said yesterday. Stupid traditions."

"You don't like being Second?" she asks quietly.

"Hell, no. I didn't want to take it. And after I'd refused to step up, I don't think Sam was too much of a fan of the idea either, really. But it was either that or kill each other." Their eyes meet, and Jacob's lips twist. "Always comes down to that, doesn't it?"

"So . . . you're like his Beta?" she asks, and this time she receives a genuine smile. Something clenches in her stomach at the sight.

"Yeah," he says, "exactly. Seth said that, too. Trust me, though, I'd be the lowest ranking if I had the chance. S'just one of those things. Catch twenty-two."

The mention of Seth has Leah frowning as she thinks about the last time she saw him, about when it will be until she sees him next. She hasn't forgotten the supplies he took to Jake whilst he was holed up at the old camping spot. Hasn't forgotten what she is going to tell him the next time she sees him — or Sam. Her kid brother is going to finish school even if it kills her. Even if she doesn't understand a thing about the pack. Even if Embry's words hold true and that other vampire — Victoria — reappears.

Leah's heart quickens at the thought. She has to untangle her finger's from Jacob and pull away when she thinks about what had nearly happened between Edward and Embry and Quil on the Swan's front lawn. That had been bad, and barely anything had even happened. Victoria will be worse, of that Leah has no doubt— she must have heard the name half a dozen times yesterday, must have seen half a dozen looks of concern.

Embry seemed confident that they could take on one vampire. They've done it before, apparently. But even Leah could see that something didn't sit right with him and Quil about this one in particular.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," she replies a bit too quickly. Jacob doesn't miss a thing. "Just . . . Thinking. About Seth."

Leah pushes out from her chair and starts running her hand through her long hair, pulling the wet tangles out as she stares out of the back window. It's not a lie, technically, so whatever the sixth sense they seem to share doesn't alert him. Small mercies.

Silence falls over the kitchen, but it doesn't feel awkward — not really. A little tense, perhaps, with all that's been left unsaid about the choice she needs to make. About what might or might not be expected of her now. But she knows Jacob won't push her on it.

Other people will, she is sure. Jacob has made it clear how much stock Billy and the rest of the Council put into traditions and honour and—

Well, fuck them. That's about as much as she can decide right now.

Save for the decision she has already made, of course. One that concerns a certain Sam Uley.

"How did you get here?" she asks, still staring out of the window.

"Drove the Rabbit back over. I was going to do it later, after Sam, but then your mom arrived and — well, you know." Jacob clears his throat awkwardly and then there's the distinct sound of keys dropping onto the kitchen table. "S'yours, if you want to use it. I meant what I said."

In spite of the restful sleep she had last night, the first in what feels like forever, she is tired already. Drained. So much has happened, is happening. Her poor father never stood a chance, did he?

Leah pulls in a deep breath, straightening her back as she turns back to him. "Good. I didn't really want to walk," she says.

When Jacob looks confused, she summons all of her lingering courage and adds, "I'm coming with you. To see Sam."

(Jacob)

The world tilts just a fraction, and he has to remember that wood — in his hands, at least — is easily breakable. The chair underneath him won't survive, and neither will the table. But there's nothing else to hold onto.

Jacob swallows thickly. He has to make an effort to breathe in and out again. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

He's not sure whether Leah realises that he wasn't exactly joking when he said that he was going to kill Sam. Not the first time he said it, blind with rage, and neither was he the second time. Sam had no right in telling her about the imprint, and certainly not that he still fucking loves her. That he's in love with her. Still.

Jacob thinks he's a dang idiot for not realising it sooner, but, clearly, his Alpha has been hiding a lot of secrets. From his pack and his own imprint.

"No," Leah says, squaring her shoulders anyway. "But I can't let you have another fight, not with him. He's not worth it."

Jacob considers her carefully. Tests the waters. "He'll be at Emily's."

Something vicious flares to life within Leah's eyes, her façade faltering a fraction, but the hard shield she keeps in place between her and the rest of the world returns almost immediately. "So?"

He shrugs, feigning indifference. "Just saying."

She stands impossibly straighter. Decision made. "I'm coming with you."

"Okay."

"You're fine with it? Just like that?" she asks, dubious.

Jacob shrugs again. "We've already agreed that I can't stop you from doing anything." Though he wishes he could — just this one time. He doesn't want Leah within a thousand feet of Sam. Doesn't want Sam within a thousand feet of her. "This could get uglier than it did with Quil, though. I don't really want you in the middle of it. Not this time."

She doesn't answer. She just stares at him, resolute and battle-ready, daring him to try and stop her. To tell her what she can and can't do.

He is the first to look away, defeated, though he doesn't feel a sense of triumph from her about it. Doesn't feel a sense that she's particularly confident about her own decision, either, especially when she leans against the kitchen counter. He watches her in the corner of his eye; it takes a second for her to drop her shoulders, another second to release the breath she's been holding, and he realises that she had been expecting him to argue with her.

Oh, he wants to. But he's almost, almost messed this up once already. She hasn't accepted him, not yet — not him, not the imprint. And it grinds, because the wolf demands an answer, demands to put a title on the nature of the imprint, but at least it doesn't grind as much as it did when he was trying to fight it. He can live with this.

At least, he hopes that can.

Leah begins braiding her still-wet hair with shaking hands, growling underneath her breath as she misses a strand and has to start all over. Carding her slender fingers through her hair again, she seems hellbent on ignoring the tremor she's suddenly developed. Jacob wisely chooses not to mention it.

"Here," he says gently when her hands drop for a second time and she lets out the tiniest sound of frustration. It's kind of cute. She's cute. Even as she looks at him, frowning, and he stands to gesture at her hair. "Come here."

One day, he'll thank Rach and Beck for teaching him how to do their fancy braids, even if their sole aim had only been to torture him. They'd wanted to open a hair salon, at one point. Another one of their schemes to get out of La Push as quickly as possible, but at least one that they had roped him into.

Leah inches towards him, still several parts dubious and defensive and distressed all at the same time, and she raises a dark eyebrow at him when he holds out his hand for the hairband on her wrist. It's testament to how she's feeling that she actually surrenders and hands it over without comment, wordlessly turning her back to him so that he can begin.

He can smell her shampoo, her soap. Oh, God. He's going to be dreaming about running his hands through her hair all week now, isn't he? It'd been bad enough waking up with her scent all over his pillow, wondering whether he'd just had the most fantastic dream or if she was actually there with him, in his bed.

Jacob does his best to work quickly — all the while trying to remember that it's okay to breathe, that he's not going to die just from being able to touch her like this — and soon enough he is tying off the end of her braid half-way down her back with a snap.

Her breathing has evened out and her hands have stopped shaking by the time she reaches up to feel her way over her head from where the braid starts. It's not bad, even if he says so himself. He's definitely going to have to thank his sisters . . . one day.

"Huh," says Leah. "That's . . . I didn't actually believe you'd be able to do that."

"Don't tell anyone," he intones seriously, knowing that it won't be staying a secret once the pack hears about it anyway. He'll be lucky if he manages to keep it out of his thoughts, let alone his dreams. "I have a reputation to uphold."

Leah snorts. He tries not to take offence.

"Ready?"

"Nope." Her lips pop, and she avoids his eyes as she swipes the keys off the table. "Let's go."

Ten minutes later, Jacob turns the Rabbit onto the beaten path that leads to Emily's place. They've spent the last nine minutes negotiating.

He tries asking her to stay in the car; she refuses, and asks him to promise that he won't leave her alone with her traitor cousin.

She asks him to refrain from committing murder; he asks her whether she'd help him hide the body.

"I would," she replies with absolute certainty, "but then we'd have to kill Emily, too. No witnesses."

"Pack mind," he reminds her. "They'll all know."

"So we'll kill them too. Let the loyalists live. Seth, Quil. Maybe Embry," she says, giving him a slight sense of déjà vu. They were like this on the way to Quil's, quipping back and forth with an ease he's not felt with anyone before.

He smiles. "And when the Council asks what's happened to half of the pack?"

"Vampires."

"There'll be a war."

"'Two birds, one stone' springs to mind. Would mean that you could take care of your little Cullen problem, anyway. I'll help."

"Yeah?" he asks, laughing, and Leah nods resolutely. So determined, his imprint. "How are you going to manage that?"

"Flamethrowers. Carefully placed bonfires. Exploding gas tanks. They burn, right?"

"Right," he agrees slowly, pulling on the handbrake, although the picture she provides for his imagination is brilliant. "You're a bit scary, do you know that?"

This comment seems to please her, and her smile turns sweet. "I know," she says, and is the first to get out of the car.

Her braid swishes proudly behind her for a few steps, until she realises that she's inadvertently leading the way to face Sam and Emily and she surreptitiously falters a few steps so that she's next to him instead. Jacob makes sure to walk slowly, quietly hoping that she's going to change her mind the closer they get to the door and goes back to wait in the car.

She doesn't. But she does reach for his arm when Sam appears on the porch. To stop herself, or to stop him? Maybe both, Jake thinks. He certainly doesn't trust himself.

Sam looks . . . haggard. Guilty, even, and a small part of Jacob would be pleased about this if it were not for the fact that he knows Sam will surely use this against Leah — just like he tried to manipulate her by telling her secrets he should have taken with him to his damn grave. Jacob can hardly wait to see a replay of the conversation for himself just so he can know what the hell Sam had been thinking. He wonders if Emily knows.

Leah's grip on his arm tightens when Sam takes another long stride towards them. It's all Jacob need to look at his Alpha and say, "That's far enough."

It's not an order, nothing even close to a challenge, but Sam apparently has sense enough to listen. His eyes harden, and all traces of worry and guilt leave his expression. "I'm not going to hurt her, Jacob."

He might as well have said, I'm not going to take her away from you, Jacob. That's what he's really thinking. It's written all over his face.

"It's you I'm protecting here," Jacob replies. Just like he understands now that Leah is protecting him whether she's quite aware of it or not; he can feel how she hates being here already, but still she has come to stand with him. "Let's just get this over and done with. What do I need to do?"

He doesn't really adhere to traditions like Sam does, so he doesn't know. He thinks he might be able to stretch to a handshake. Maybe. That's being generous. He doesn't know what he'll do if he has to do something stupid like phase and lower his whole body in submission just to prove a point.

Sam takes a breath, hesitating. He glances at Leah, but seems to think better of letting his eyes linger and refocuses. "What do you want to do, Jacob?"

Be done with this already. "The pack's yours," he says. Everything's yours. Just allow me this one thing. "What do I need to do to prove that?"

Sam doesn't answer immediately. He looks as closely as he dares, at Jacob, at the hand holding onto his arm, the dainty fingernails digging ever so slightly into his skin. But he doesn't look directly at her again, if only because he must understand that he'll get his head ripped off if he does.

"You told her, then?" Sam finally asks, tone even. An effort for him, Jacob is sure.

"No thanks to you," he replies darkly, blood beginning to pound.

"You should have told her from the very beginning. Maybe then this wouldn't have become a problem, would it? She deserves better than that, Jacob."

Better than you, is what he hears.

"She is standing right here, thank you," Leah snaps. She leans forward, almost preparing to pounce, but the hold she has on Jacob seems to keep her in place. Grounded. "Why do you keep saying his name like that? Ja-cob, like you're his teacher or something? I can't stand it."

Sam remains calm. Or tries to. "Leah—"

"Shut up. Just stop." Jacob feels her fingers curl around his bicep, digging deeper. Yeah, she's definitely holding herself back. "He wouldn't even have to be here if you hadn't tried to kill him. This is your mess."

"For God's sake, Lee, I didn't try to kill him. I told you I didn't mean to hurt him. Jacob knows that."

Jacob scoffs, and he smirks when he hears the same sound come from Leah at exactly the same time.

"But you did," Leah argues vehemently. "So make your apology, yeah? And then we'll be on our way." She puts her free hand on her hip, expectant, and Jacob thinks he might have loved her for that alone without the help of an imprint.

Sam stares at her, outraged. "Only this morning you were protesting that there wasn't a ' you and Jacob ', and now you've already accepted the imprint?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Come on . You're seriously defending him for what he did?"

"No," she spits back.

At this, Jacob winds his arm around her shoulders. Leah doesn't shake him off, perhaps because she wants to be stopped from lashing out as much as he wants to protect her, but neither does she hold her tongue.

"I'm defending him for defending himself," she says to Sam. "Against you . I haven't accepted anything — not that it's any of your goddamn business, actually. I thought I'd made that clear."

"Of course it's my goddamn business, Lee. He's pack. Second-in-command, actually, did he tell you that? Everything he does has a knock-on effect on everybody else and it becomes my fucking problem, all the time. First it's all about refusing to step up and how miserable he is, then it's about Bella— we were all pining after her like we wanted her, too— and now it's you, of all the people—"

"That's enough." The double-timbre of the Alpha voice slips out of Jacob before he realises what he's doing, though he doesn't think he would have bothered to stop himself even if he'd known. He's reached his limit.

Sam flinches, and his mouth snaps shut.

Good.

Leah is shaking again underneath his arm. Rage, this time. Jacob can feel it bleeding out of her, and it almost sends him over the edge. But he can't, won't phase.

"The pack's yours," he tells Sam again. He's been wanting to do this for weeks. Months, even. As soon as he phased for the very first time and it ruined his life. "I'll be quitting as soon as I can manage it. You won't have to worry about me anymore. Happy? I'm done. I'm out. We're not doing this anymore."

"Jake," Leah pleads. "Don't—"

"Consider this my resignation," he continues over her, looking directly at Sam. "And a warning, too."

He doesn't need to explain exactly what that warning is. He thinks even Leah understands the words unspoken.

"Fine," Sam spits, barely in control of himself. "Fine. "

It doesn't feel fine— everything is telling Jacob to take take take ; the wolf is begging to take charge, to make his opponent submit, but he's been through this before. And he would kill Sam this time, he's sure of it. He wouldn't be able to stop himself. It's a fight he would win.

Sam looks close to losing it completely. Jacob, however, has never been more in control.

Sam growls. "Get the hell off my land."

It sounds like an Alpha-Order, except it rolls right off Jacob's shoulders and falls flat. Seems that handing the pack back over hasn't fixed all their problems.

Damn it all to hell.

But, ever the obedient wolf, Jacob immediately starts steering Leah back to the Rabbit. Thankfully she falls into step beside him easily enough.

Hopefully they can get out of here before Sam realises that his only way of keeping his Second in check no longer works.

A/N: Another disclaimer of sorts (because I've previously said this fic would follow canon events): I love the timeline provided on Twilight Lexicon because it is the bee's knees for detail, but we're twenty chapters deep into this fic and so far everything has taken place in March 2006. Bella and Jacob don't see each other again 'til late May (ignoring the scene where he returns her motorbike), and that's just… so boring, especially for pacing issues. So I've thrown caution to the wind and decided that everything is just going to be brought forward a tad. Massive apologies about this if you are a stickler for detail like I am.