*DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to the Twilight Saga and it's characters. This is purely artistic fiction drawn in inspiration from Stephenie Meyer's words.
*WARNING: Mentions of alcohol abuse/alcoholism/physical violence/brief emetophobia! Readers proceed at your own caution!
*I've added in rough language translations straight from the official Quileute website in this chapter. I say rough because there are multiple characters in the Quileute alphabet that don't exist within the English language, nor could I get any software to copy paste them to be more accurate. I thought it best to include what the words/phrases mean underneath instead of in the ending note, as some of us don't have the patience to scroll and I'm too inept to learn how to figure out how to add the translation if you link it to the actual words. Shout out to dukeofdelirium on A03! A lot of the sources I used were recommended by them. :) Go check our their fics, too! They're an amazing author.
*My intention with the translations in this chapter is to pay homage to the Quileute Tribe's language, enough to do research, and I wanted to give proper respect. Speaking of respect/homage, hop on over to mthg. org to donate to the actual tribe. They reached their goal to move their school out of the tsunami zone and it's much nicer, but after all the damage a certain author has done to this REAL indigenous group, donations can help in other places!
*Also, if you're reading this, thank you for your continued support! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Smeyer never addressed any factual traumatic intricacies/dynamics in her series, nor gave the pack/main characters proper DEPTH.
* :D Happy reading ya'll!
"Excuse me," Jake said, gracefully standing and pushing out his chair in one swift motion. He ambled into the living room, hoping his phone conversation wouldn't monopolize the one at the kitchen table.
"Yo, this is Jake." He answered.
"Hi, is this the diner on Eagle street? Can I get a pepper-jack burger, some crinkle-cut fries, and a side of honey mustard to go?" Quil snickered. His voice was echoey, signaling that the call was on speaker phone.
"Shh, Quil—" Embry cut in, a muffled giggle from Quil wormed through the phone, "we finished closing, Jake. What's the plan?"
Jake paced the living room. "So, I'm not sure on exact time. Right now, I'm finishing up dinner at Bella's with Charlie and my dad."
Quil snorted, "you didn't tell us you were letting the wolf out of the bag." A belly laugh escaped him. "How did Chief Swan take it? Did he polish and reload his gun in front of you?"
"No, no, none of that." Jake instinctively rolled his eyes, "listen, I'm gonna say goodnight to Bells and then I'll head towards the rez."
"We'll hit Quil's first to buy some time." Embry murmured through the mouthpiece. "Are you gonna run here?"
"Yeah, it's the easiest and fastest way." Jake peeked around the corner to the kitchen to make sure he wasn't taking too long. Bella was still picking at the same corner of her lasagna, and Charlie was discussing the politics of baseball with Billy.
"Meet up in thirty-ish?" Embry confirmed.
"Yep. That's perfect. See ya soon." Jake ended the call and locked his phone, sliding it into his back pocket.
When he came back into the kitchen, Bella had managed two more bites of her food. Jake couldn't help the concern bubbling up in his chest, but he was proud of her progress. Small as it seemed to him, it must have been mountainous to her. He knew it was going to be a long time before she possessed a modicum of comfort when eating. Billy paused mid conversation and glanced up at his towering figure, the same one that was a few inches shy of touching the ceiling.
"Well, son, are you heading out for the evening?" Billy asked.
"Yeah, I promised to help Embry with some of the paperwork for the shop next week. It's my turn to balance finances and order supplies." Shit. I forgot I don't have a car with me, he thought. Jake recalibrated, without skipping a beat, "he's picking me up from here in a few."
Jake tried not to lie, but Billy understood Jake phased nearly every night for the last three years. It was his own form of therapy. Charlie's face lit up with the sudden realization that Jake wasn't going to stay the night.
"Sounds like you'll be very busy. Don't let us keep you." Billy nodded, patting Charlie's arm. "Gramps here, promised to treat your old man to some cold beers and the last Mariner's game of the season tonight."
"I'll take care of dishes," Bella added.
"You cooked. I'll clean, Bells." Jake replied.
Bella's eyes flitted to his and widened. Her jaw clicked shut as she set her fork down in question. "It's my mess, Jake. Not yours."
"Hon', he's right. You slaved over the stove, let 'im handle the dishes," Charlie agreed, "heaven knows I should do more around 'ere. Warms m' heart to know he's got such a good head on his shoulders."
Billy intercepted the conversation, briefly placing his hand on Bella's shoulder. "Thank you for dinner, Bella. The lasagna tasted just like Helen used to make when we were kids. To be honest, I'd say yours was even better." She softened upon his touch. It was the nicest he'd been toward her since before he'd found out she was 'dating' Edward, the bane of his tribe's existence and sole reason his son was forced to phase.
"I second that." Charlie stood from the table, pressing a curt kiss to the crown of Bella's head. "Yer a way better cook than me, Bells. I'd sooner burn the house down trying to boil water. I'm spoiled having you home."
"We're all spoiled when Bella's around." Jake beamed.
Jacob diligently wiped down the last cream-colored plate with an old dishrag, setting it down on the metal rack beside the sink. Bella stole the cloth from his grasp, flashing a playful smirk.
"Hey, I was using that." He leaned on the counter, grinning down at her. Even stooping, he loomed over her at her full height.
"Well, it's not my fault you're slow." Bella teased, scrunching her nose. She mopped up the excess water around the circumference of the sink, lightly nudging him over. Once she finished, Bella smoothed the damp towel flat over the handle to the oven.
"Do you think it'd be okay if we talked outside?" Jake whispered to her, his warm breath washing over her bare neck.
Bella shivered, "y-yeah."
He shifted his weight on the ball of his right foot, sauntering into the living room. Bella trailed behind him, following suit. Jake leaned down to hug his father, a commonplace routine. It gave Billy peace of mind ever since Jake ran away, like he was ensuring his son wouldn't disappear.
"Goodnight, Jacob. See you Sunday," Billy replied over the roar of the crowd on the flatscreen.
"G'night, Jake. Was good to see ya again. Be safe out there." Charlie waved two fingers in a mock salute from his favorite worn armchair.
"Night, dad. See ya later Chief Swan." Jake nodded in farewell.
"I'll walk him out. Be right back, dad." Bella said softly.
They slipped out the back door. At last, alone, before Jake had to leave. The first period of separation since rekindling their love.
"So, paperwork... huh? Is that code-word for patrol?" Bella stubbed the toe of her scuffed converse into a lone patch of dirt in the backyard. The sun was setting behind them; her backlit dark brown hair framed her face with a halo-like effect, hidden auburn tinges glowing like smoldering embers in the rays of golden light.
"Not entirely. My dad caught my drift, and that's all that matters. Outside of council meetings, I call him twice a week. Rach' has been here—helping take care of him while I run the shop full-time. I switch with her on Sundays."
"Rachel's here?"
"Yeah. She broke up with her fiancée and came home a few weeks ago."
"I didn't know she was engaged." Bella's voice trailed off. "Guess we have something in common."
"She's a lot happier now. She does HR work for Fork's hospital, and when she's not there, she's helping Sue out at her home office."
"That's cool. I'm glad she followed her heart." Bella replied wistfully.
Without warning, a repressed memory flooded her thoughts. Jacob, prone on his comically small childhood bed, broken in multiple senses of the word, vulnerable. A sheen of sweat clung to his copper skin, sterile white gauze wrapped around the length of his right arm and torso. His expression, so vivid. I'm exactly right for you, he croaked. Hours of screaming had left his deep voice hoarse.
Bella held her breath, trying to push the harrowing images back into the recesses of her mind.
"Bells?" He repeated.
"Huh?" She startled, eyes fluttering open as she refocused.
"Did you hear what I said?" His arms wrapped around her midsection, a heated embrace she happily reveled in. Heaven.
"I'm sorry, no. What did you say, Jake?"
"I said, 'she's not the only one.'" His voice was soft, silky. Goosebumps cropped up along her bare arms, ignoring his fiery hold on her. "You better get inside, it's getting cold."
"It's not that." Bella shook her head, her gaze met his.
"What is i—"
She interrupted him, connecting their lips, lost to her garbled influx of feelings. Jake cupped her pale face with his right hand, its twin resting along the gentle arch of her lower back. Bella parted her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss, their tongues touched once. An impatient, ardent plea, like the sea greedily clinging to shore. Jake reluctantly broke it off, pulling back with a pained groan.
"I have to help Embry." He breathed, thumb tenderly stroking the flat plane of her soft cheek. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, I understand." Bella sighed, heartbeat swimming in her ears.
"I love you," Jake mouthed, still breathless, captivated by the soft blush blooming across her face. The corners of her lips drew upward, pulling her rosy pout into a content smile.
"I love you, too." Bella mumbled, leaning her cheek into his feverish hand.
"I'll call you in the morning. About the bonfire." He pressed his lips to her forehead in a poignant kiss before releasing her from the cage of his powerful arms.
"Let me know that Embry's safe, please." She held onto his hand for a few moments longer, not wanting to let him go but knowing she needed to. "He's my friend, too."
It'd been years since she had any 'real' friends. Bella couldn't remember the last time anyone cared for her like Quil and Embry did. The same could be said for the rest of the pack. In all honesty, her connection with those two ran much deeper. They loved her the most, no matter how much time went by.
A grin spread across his tan face, "of course, honey." Jake lifted her hand and pressed another brief kiss to the inside of her palm. "I'll see you soon."
"Bye, Jake." Bella murmured.
"Bye, Bella." Jake replied quietly, a sad lilt to his baritone voice.
He let go of her hand and it dropped at her side. Jake backed up, waving to her as he walked, nearly tripping over a loose tree root on the ground. Bella stifled a laugh. Slightly embarrassed, he straightened his posture and faced away from her, the crooked smile evaporating off his features, pace transitioning into a slow jog in the opposite direction.
Once Jake reached the treeline behind Charlie's house, he was obscured by shadow. The dense canopy of pine branches cast a layer of darkness, blocking any moonlight. He watched Bella enter through the back door, confirming she was inside before he stripped off his clothes and phased. She would always be his top priority, but his best friend needed him.
In the enveloping silence of the forest, Jake slowed his breathing and with it, his heart. There was one, sure-fire way to initiate a phase: he pictured tearing Edward into fine, granite dust flakes, into nothing. For all the pain he caused Bella, triggering the shifting gene in the pack, and for being the abomination that he was.
The ensuing rage consumed Jake, body and soul. His discomfort was temporary; rending of flesh, bones crunching, readjusting under layers of thick muscle, a singular howl into the star-studded navy sky. He'd gotten much too good at it. The shifting process was effortless, almost second nature.
While he was in Canada, he was close to succumbing to his wolf, to allow the transformation to become permanent. Jake had to trust that Bella would find her way back to him, and so he changed his mind in the hopes he would see her again. Fate had brought him another chance, one he wouldn't let slip through his fingers.
The woods were eerily quiet save for the light rustling of tall grass, his four paw pads hit the ground in quick, even strides. Somewhere in the distance, an argument was happening...
"Why though? Why would you want to move out? You're only twenty." Joy Ateara's raspy voice reverberated off the empty, faded yellow walls of Quil's room.
"I turn twenty-one in a few months. Besides, I'm an adult now, ma." Quil said, shoving more clothes from his dresser into an open duffel bag at his feet.
"Don't you dare lie. You'd stay here forever if you could. It's because of Embry, isn't it?" Joy added, swiping at the dual tracks of moisture on her round face. "You want to live with him."
Quil dropped the bag onto the checkered forest green quilt laid out on his full-sized bed. He turned to face his mother, standing under the dim overhead lighting in the doorway, arms drawn around herself. There was no malice in her expression, nor in her words. Just a mother, unwilling to let her baby bird fly the nest.
"I love him." He admitted. Fear no longer controlled him; Quil was free.
"I know that, you silly boy." Joy sighed, tsking, "I've known since you were sixteen years old."
"You... you did?" Quil's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"Yes, hon'. I may be getting older, but I'm not that old. I have eyes, y'know." She rushed forward and pulled him into a tight, desperate hug, ruffling the mop of unruly curls atop his head. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you living under my roof. It'll be so quiet here."
"You'll be alright, ma." Quil rubbed her back gently, sinking into her calm embrace. "It's not like I won't visit you. Like we won't visit you."
"I know that, too." Joy leaned back, staring up into her son's glassy umber eyes, and held his face in her weathered, yet soft hands. "I'm not ready yet. I'll miss you too much. My boy, my sweet baby boy."
"Mama," Quil groaned, "I'm grown now. You have to let me go."
"Kwò okílcha-chuh?" A gruff voice sounded from the doorway. Quil Ateara III stood leaning against the wood trim, his brow furrowed in question.
(What are you doing?)
"I'm moving out, abá." Quil reiterated. "Moving in with Embry."
(Grandparent)
"That is no place for finding a liká tso." The old man harrumphed. "Billy tells me Jacob finally imprinted. You were the last to phase aside from the pups, and they have already found their mates. You have much to learn still, grandson."
(Wife)
"That's where you're wrong... I imprinted years ago."
"Quil." Joy covered her mouth in shock. While her intuition was right on the money about her son being in love with his best friend, she did not know he imprinted on Embry, too.
"Come now, why didn't you tell us sooner? Taká?" Quil Ateara III nodded in approval, he used his pointer finger to push up the nose piece of his oversized glasses.
(Who?)
"His name is Embry, and I imprinted on him four years ago. Right after I phased." Quil grabbed his duffel bag off the bed, yanked the zipper closed and balled up the quilt under one arm, expecting the worst.
"Pawaláks adá adalas. Imprinting is for producing children... to carry on the bloodline." Quil Ateara III shook his head, "ta ichákli. You couldn't have."
(Nonsense...mistaken)
"Oh, but I did, abá." Quil narrowed his eyes, "and he's the kindest, most thoughtful man I've ever met. I'm in love with Embry. I've loved him my entire life."
He continued, finding more courage as he watched the indignation flash across his grandpa's facial features, "I'm not about to sit here and let you bad mouth him or our relationship. There are no rules to this magic—no secret manual on how to imprint, to shift, how any of it works! Yours and dad's generation didn't even shift... but I did—we did—Embry and I. We had to figure everything out on our own, with basically no help from you or Billy. I don't care what you or anyone else thinks. He's my happy ending."
Quil Ateara III stood completely still and his expression smoothed, like he stopped listening all together.
"He's my son, and I'll support him no matter what he decides." Joy shifted to shield Quil as the old man stepped closer, close enough leer into his grandson's face.
"Sì yá li." Old Quil grit out.
(I see)
"I don't think you do, abá." Quil felt prickles of irritation, heat building under his skin, an anxious pit forming deep inside his stomach.
"Piltilá kalá woli, ká xw olit. You are wiser than I thought. La ósilo." He patted Quil's shoulder. "And you, hókl, you are a good mother. I'm proud of you both."
(I accept you, grandchild...fearless...daughter-in-law)
Joy and young Quil exchanged incredulous glances.
"You're not upset?" Quil croaked.
"No, grandson, tsixá. There is nothing but word of mouth and legends surrounding our tribe. I'd sooner wish happiness for you rather than leave this world knowing you resent me." He shuffled forward until he stood in the doorway once more, floorboards creaking underfoot. "I expect to see you at future council meetings regarding the pack. Hach awí, ká xw olit."
(Correct/it's okay...goodnight, grandchild)
"G-goodnight, abá." Quil swallowed uneasily.
Embry's heart thudded against his ribs, conflicting emotions tightening the invisible knot deep within his gut. While waiting for Quil to pack, he overheard the conversation at the Ateara's house. Every word. Despite not understanding much of what Old Quil was talking about, his heightened senses were able to pick up on his imprint's emotions from his voice. Embry's Quil was willing to put the relationship with his grandfather at risk to support him.
Scared, angry, and most of all... proud. He was proud to be his boyfriend.
Quil bounded down the front steps to the Ateara household, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, stuffed to the brim. After securing the leather satchel on his back using the straps, he rolled and tied the quilt into place on top with a bit of twine. He met Embry inside the thicket, all but collapsing into his waiting arms.
"You defended me." Embry mumbled, tangling his fingers in the disheveled mass of onyx curls that flopped down from Quil's head, pressing him to his body. He exhaled a heavy sigh of relief against his bare neck.
"Well, yeah," Quil said, voice muffled by the material of Embry's shirt. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't care?"
"A real shitty one, that's for sure." Embry's arms tightened around Quil, and the two laughed together. They stood there, embracing as if nothing else mattered in the world. Just the two of them.
"I don't think I deserve boyfriend of the year, Bry." Quil chuckled, "thanks for putting up with me, though."
"Shut. Up." Embry pressed his forehead to Quil's, a secret tear escaped the corner of his left eye. He rubbed it away with the back of his wrist. "You talk too much."
The telltale sound of twigs snapping in the foreground alerted them to another presence: Jake. His wolf form crept through the woods, staying close to the trees while hugging the Ateara property line.
"Just in time." Quil said, "let's get out of here."
Embry nodded, already dreading what came next. They followed Jacob's lead and stripped off their clothes, phasing soon after. Three giant wolves slinking through the night, a covert unit, their version of normality for the past four years. Within moments, the tiny beige house that bordered the cliffs surrounding First Beach came into view. Quil buried the bags he carried in his muzzle under a mound of fallen leaves.
The three men phased back one by one, wearing little clothing. Thei taste in clothes had remained the same since before that started shifting. Jake and Embry both wore varying shades of tan Bermuda shorts, while Quil donned baggy red basketball shorts and a muscle tee, one of Embry's old tour shirts. No time wasted putting on shoes, they descended upon the front porch with caution.
Embry eyed the kitchen window, pointing out the lack of lights on inside. The missing Camry from the muddy driveway also proved the coast was clear; it meant Tiffany Call was at work, and they shouldn't be interrupted. Embry lifted the mat in front of the door, removed the spare key, and the rubber square flounced back into place. His pair of keys was left behind because of the chaos earlier.
In a jagged line, they shuffled through the entryway, moving swiftly sans sound. Jake was the last one in, closing the door, the old latch meshing into place with a tinny click. They made their way toward Embry's room, and right as Embry flicked on the light, they froze in place, unable to move.
In Embry's bed, passed out hugging his pillow, empty tequila bottle cradled in her arms, was Tiffany Call. She hadn't gone to work then, or maybe she had, and walked home somehow? Probably got told to go home by her boss. Embry wasn't sure, but he had to make sure she was still breathing. He hesitantly inched forward, eyes locking with Quil's, and he placed a tentative hand onto his mother's shoulder, shaking it.
"Mom. Mom. Wake up, I think you fell asleep. W-weren't you supposed to go to work today?" He asked, other arm raised in a defensive position in case she woke up swinging.
Tiffany stirred, a soft moan escaping her pale lips, pale compared to her flushed copper cheeks. She relaxed her arms, releasing the bottle from her hold, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. When she opened them, she saw the distorted, doubled image of her lanky son, looming over her.
"Em... E-Embryyy?" She murmured, speech still slurred. The scent of alcohol was rampant on her skin, burning all of their sensitive noses.
"Yeah mom, it's me." He replied with held breath.
"Why are t-there—hicc—six of you?"
"There isn't mom. Jake and Quil are with me. I'm grabbing some things."
Embry palmed the liquor and removed it from her lax grip. She gave it up, and he set it down on the far end of his bedside table. Jake shot a glare to Quil, and he started picking up clothes out of a clean laundry basket, tucking them under his arm to be put into the backpack at the foot of the bed.
"W-wait. Why are... why are.. what? What are you doing, honey?" Tiffany mumbled incoherently, sitting up while leaning on her elbow.
"I'm getting stuff to sleep over at Jake's for a little while. You need to sober up." Embry placed the unopened water bottle off his nightstand into her hands.
"Y-yeah. Sober. I felt bad about earlier. It was an—hicc—accident, baby. I'm so s-sorry."
Her eyes, once vibrant and full of life, were now overshadowed by deep, plum-colored half moons. These dark circles overwhelmed the murky windows to her soul, stretching across her delicate skin like a somber reminder. They were a testament to the countless nights spent in silent agony, where tears and booze had been her only solace, this morning where she hurt her own child albeit not on purpose.
The combination of intense violet, angry redness, the swollen puffiness, sallow color of her dull skin, slightly more visible hollows of her cheeks; a heartbreaking portrait of a woman consumed by wordless depression. The disease of alcoholism. Her eyes became a haunting reflection of repressed emotions, ones she carried like a funeral mourner. Unheard symphony of despair, a silent cry for understanding and comfort in a world that seemed so relentlessly cruel. Single mother. Outcast. Tramp... alone.
He wished he could take away her pain, to mend the wounds that had left such palpable scars on her weary face, of her aching soul. But all he could do was offer his unwavering support, promising to be her anchor in the storm, holding her hand from a safe distance as she navigated the darkness that had engulfed her.
Embry felt a mixture of empathy and helplessness squeeze his chest. He was doing the right thing. Embry loved her, loved her so much. So he would help her—help her see the light. To heal.
"I know. I'm okay. I just think it would be best if I stay with Jake until you stop drinking. You need help." Embry continued, the words tumbled from his mouth, scrambled with emotion, "I asked Sue to come check on you tomorrow with Seth. She's gonna help you start a detox program, and you're gonna stay with Joy for a few months until you're better. I'll cover the bills while you're not working."
"Slow down. Wait a minute, Embry. Where are you going?" Tiffany had gained more consciousness in the last thirty seconds and it was starting to sink in. The reality of the situation. She was a drunk—horrible mother—mirror image of her nightmares.
"Mom, it's gonna be okay. You can go back to sleep, I'm gonna be fine." His voice wavered, and he fidgeted in place until Quil traded off the full backpack to Jake and placed his hand on his shoulder.
Tiffany sat up and took a delayed swig of water from the bottle Embry gave her. Her head was pounding and her stomach lurched. She gagged, trying to keep whatever contents was in her stomach, but at that point it was nothing but bile. Tiffany hadn't eaten since that morning, if a piece of bread counted as nourishment. Embry moved to grab the trash can from beside the door and tucked it into her lap, catching the clear liquid that spewed from her open mouth moments later.
"This is for your own good." Embry confirmed. "No more hurting yourself."
Tiffany wretched again, and through foggy eyes looked up at her son while hugging the waste-bin.
"I—I know..." Tears stung in her waterline, blurting her vision even more. Another wave of nausea over took her, and she continued to dry heave. "I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for you—"
"You don't have to say anything, mom. I love you." Embry shook his head, burying his face in his hands.
"I lo—hicc—love you too, baby." Tiffany managed.
Embry, for the second time that day, cleaned his mother up and got her tucked into her own bed. This time he went through the entire house and gathered all the hidden bottles of alcohol, even the rubbing alcohol from the bathroom cabinet, for fear that she might try to use that, too.
In her exhausted, inebriated state, she didn't even remember how, but she was trying to get up and when Embry was trying to wipe dried puke out of her long hair. The full force of her hand, unknowingly clutching an empty vodka bottle in a fist, collided with the thin bone under Embry's eye. Thus, resulting in a short-lived black eye that healed less than a half hour after he arrived to work. Long enough for the others to see it, placing more judgement where it wasn't needed. All except Jake and Quil.
Tiffany didn't mean to hurt her son, and Embry knew it was an accident, but it wasn't okay that she continued to act this way. His mom was sick, and she needed to help herself before her son ended up all alone.
Tomorrow was a new day; new beginnings, a sunrise on the horizon.
*Whew... that was tough. :') Okay but stay with me! The next chapter will be all happy/fluff instead of angst and we get to see more of the pack!
*Please leave a review/heart while you're here! They really mean the world to me and I appreciate every single one of you whether you do or don't. :D Stay tuned for the next chapter a.k.a. the BONFIREEEE.