Bella followed Leah and Seth's wolves through the darkness, trying to stop herself from shaking.

"You okay, Bell-Bell?"

"I—," her teeth were chattering and she felt her knees buckle underneath her. "D-dad?"

"Whoa, hold on." Charlie quickly passed his shotgun to Embry, who followed just behind them, and then lifted Bella into his arms. "I've got you, kiddo."

She tried to protest, to say she was sorry, to tell them not to worry. "J-Jake? Is he okay?"

"He'll be just fine." Charlie said firmly. "Everything's fine."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

She nodded. A strange wave of relief and terror flooded over her as a long low howl broke through the night, the hairs on her arm standing on end.

Jake?

She thought she could almost feel him, like a burning beacon in the night.

bells.

She blinked, her eyes stinging. It was almost too much—the hell, the heartache, the hope—all of it. She wanted it to be over and she was afraid of what would happen when it was. But it was almost over. A crunching grinding sound told her Seth and Leah had shifted back, and then she heard voices. She blinked, the sudden familiar sight of the Black's cozy red-painted cabin unfolding from the night. Home.

"Charlie?" Billy's voice came from the shadow of the doorway. "Bella?" The porch light flicked on, framing Billy and Sue in a warm, comfortable glow. They both visibly relaxed when they caught sight of them.

"Mom!" Seth bolted passed Charlie, wrapping his mom in an exuberant hug.

"Watch the baby," Sue scolded, hugging him just as tightly, with one arm. "He's sleeping."

"Holy crow," Seth breathed, staring at baby Jake, who was curled up like a sack of potatoes in the crook of Sue's arm. "A boy? That's awesome." He shot a wide goofy grin back at Bella. "I was kind of hoping for a girl, but a boy's great too."

"Thanks, Seth." Bella blushed and nodded to Charlie. He gently set her down, keeping a steadying hand on her back. Her legs trembled still, but seeing baby Jake snapped something back into place inside her. She wouldn't fall apart, even if nothing changed. She had changed.

"Let me see him." Quil pushed Seth aside. "Whoa. He's like a mini person—"

"Because he's a baby, dipshit." Embry crowded in, shoving at Quil. "Hey, little wolf-man."

"Did you just copy and paste Jake, Bella? Kind of lazy baby making, you know."

"He's got her eyebrows," Seth insisted.

"No, he doesn't."

"Boys," Billy interrupted, his face tense with cautious hope. "Did you find Jacob?"

"Sure we found him," Quil said, puffing out his chest. "It was pretty simple."

"Simple, my ass." Embry pushed him off the porch. "You wanted to quit two hours in."

"We still found him, didn't we?"

"More like he found us," Seth said.

"Shut up, man,"

A loud snuffing half-bark brought the genial bickering to a halt. Every pack member turned towards the large russet wolf trotting into the yard.

"See?" Quil grinned at Billy. "One Jacob Black, as ordered. Safe and sound."

"You boys better make yourself scarce," Charlie said after a heavy pause, exchanging a look with Billy. He motioned towards the door, as if to herd the pack inside, but he kept an arm around Bella, keeping her close, keeping her standing. "This little reunion is going to be awkward enough without a damned audience."

Embry and Quil were already gearing up to argue, when Billy and Sue added their own commanding threats to Charlie's. Within seconds, the pack was hustled inside, Billy on their heels. Sue gave Bella a small encouraging smile, and then stepped in after them, leaving only Jacob, Bella, and Charlie.

"Well." Charlie snatched up his shotgun from where Embry had leaned it against the porch stairs. "I'm just going to...uh... go inside. Holler if he gets handsy."

"Oh my God, Charlie, just," Bella gestured hurriedly after the pack. "I got this."

"If you say so." He shouldered his gun and jogged up the stairs, whistling a Quileute lullaby. "I'll just be inside." He pointed at Jake, "Keep it PG, Black, or I will shoot your ass."

"Charlie!"

Then he was gone.

Bella took a deep, painful breath, suddenly unable to look at Jacob now that they were alone. He was pacing near the little creek in front of the cabin, the soft blanket of night sounds settling around them. Jacob hadn't shifted back. It had always been easier to talk to him in wolf form and she wondered if he was doing it for her. She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of grateful tears. She didn't deserve any of his kindness; but even at her worst, he'd never failed to be Jake, to think of others, to take care of her.

He let out a snorting breath and she heard his near-silent footsteps as he started to pick his way closer. She still couldn't look at him. She couldn't move, couldn't think, almost couldn't breathe. Somehow, facing Jacob Black was so much harder than facing Edward Cullen had been. But she wouldn't shrink away now. He deserved this. Another chuffing sound finally made her look up. Once she met his eyes—that wild, dark-golden gaze—she found she couldn't look away. Jacob was there and the wolf was too, no longer just a skin he wore, but an integral part of him, gold and black, wolf and man. Different and yet the same as he'd always been. And he was home.

"Jake."

She stumbled forward, threw her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his soft fur. They couldn't change what had happened, but right now all she wanted was to fall back in time, to when things were simple and easy and just the two of them; back to warm sodas and easy laughter in the his old garage; to lung-crushing hugs and bright, sunny smiles; to space movie marathons and late night couch gossip and—

bells.

She gasped, the soft sound like a whisper that cut her to the very bone. He rubbed his head against her, an odd thrumming sound of contentment rumbling in his throat. She hadn't realized she was crying until his hot rough tongue gently licked her cheeks. "Jake." Since they'd started fixing up old motorcycles together, almost two years ago, not a day had passed without her thinking of him. He'd become such a steady fixture in her life and mind and heart. How could she have ever believed she didn't love him enough? "I'm sorry." It was so soft, almost too soft, but she meant it with every part of her. He nudged her with his nose, the purring thrum growing louder. She dug her fingers tighter into his fur, burying her face in the woodsy softness again. "I missed you."

Bella would always wonder if they would've gone on standing there, her crying and hiding, him silent and waiting. But the low cries of her baby brought her back to herself and to the reason they were there at all. "Jake." She turned and moved quickly towards the house. "He's probably hungry." When she reached the door, she paused, and turned back. Jacob stood so rigid and silent, he could've been carved from wood. He still hadn't shifted and something about it struck her as odd. "Jake?"

Baby Jake kept fussing, and then Sue appeared behind the screen door, her dark eyes taking in the scene. "He needs you, little mother." She smiled and pushed open the door, slipping the crying baby into Bella's arms. "And his father."

"But he's still in wolf form," Bella said anxiously. "Something's wrong, Sue. Like it won't let him go and—"

"Trust the wolf," Sue said. She laid a hand on Bella's shoulder. "It's part of Jacob, as surely as you are. This is his pup."

Bella nodded, cuddling her son closer. Then she took a deep breath and stepped back down into the yard, approaching the huge wolf with careful yet deliberate movements. His golden-black eyes were fixed on the baby in her arms. He took a single step forward, then stopped, body taut and tense. She paused less than hand's length away and waited, watching the wolf's every movement, an odd roiling, buzzing feeling building in her chest, almost burning into her. The wolf lowered it's nose and gently touched the baby. She heard the sharp intake of breath. Baby Jake wriggled, starting to cry again, his skinny arms flailing a little the more worked up he got.

"Hush," She murmured and kissed his head. Then she turned him around so Jacob could see his face. "This is Jake."

The wolf stiffened, letting out another whoosh of warm breath. Baby Jake stopped crying and his bright, black eyes blinked open, meeting the golden-black eyes of the wolf. And it was as if the world stopped, the sounds and sights fading as father and son stared at each other, unblinking. Gravity faded, and they hung there, in a new world of their own making—Jake, Bells, and their son.

ours.

It was an echo rolling through her, and over her, and in her, soft and possessive and full of warmth, that one simple word anchoring them back to the earth. Gravity wasn't necessary. They were enough.

The wolf let out a guttural grumbling whine, sinking down to the ground in a trembling heap. Then the wolf skin split and slivered in on itself. Jacob fell onto his hands and knees, coughing, teeth chattering, body shaking and shivering. Bella watched, unsure of what she should do. Baby Jake began fussing again, his little cries spilling out into the terrible silence. Jacob's head snapped up. He shook himself and stood. Bella couldn't help but stare, heart thundering in her chest. Everything about him was the same and yet so different. He was harder, stronger, older, every inch an Alpha. But he was still Jake. Her Jake. At least—she hoped he was. So when he reached out, a fierce determined look on his face, she gave him their baby without hesitation. His large hands were so careful, so gentle, tucking the little bundle firmly against his chest.

Jacob closed his eyes, his chest heaving, almost as if he was in pain. Bella bit her lip, waiting.

"Your pain is my pain," she'd told him once. She'd been trying to make him understand what he meant to her, trying to explain. But how could she, when she hadn't understood it herself? She'd grabbed his hand and held it. "You're Jake." She'd smiled, hoping, waiting, and willing him to understand. It was so selfish, so broken.

He'd smiled back, a shadow of his sunny self, but trying—for her—to comfort her even in his own pain. "And you're Bells."

She'd nodded. It didn't change his pain, or hers, but somehow it had helped.

Jacob was in pain again, but now it was the good kind, the best kind, the kind of pain that heals and forgives and redeems when it passes. The worst of this nightmare was over, and he was holding their future, the one they'd both seen on the cold hopeless morning after sharing a terrible desperate kiss. She wished she could take his pain and wash it all away, not for herself, but for him, even if he was never hers again.

"Jake?"

"Bells." He almost choked on his words. "Is this real?"

She nodded.

"Is this really over?"

"Almost."