An Author's Note….
I wrote "Boarders," a while go. While I am so pleased that many readers enjoyed my fic, I felt compelled to revisit this story and will be reposting an edited version of it. I can't promise a set schedule when it comes to posting, but I will do my very best to post as often as I possibly can. I hope that you will enjoy this version, now titled, "Move Together," just as much as you enjoyed its predecessor.
This is a Sam/Bella imprint story. Bella will be OOC in this story. This takes place in an AU wherein Bella is Quileute along with Renée and Charlie. In addition, Sam and Emily were never an item (nor were Sam and Leah for that matter). The Cullen Family will make an appearance in this story, it will be much farther down the line.
Bella, Jacob and Quil — Eighteen
Sam, Jared — Twenty-two
Paul, Embry — Nineteen
*** Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Twilight characters, nor do I own the settings, plots, or over all creations, it all belongs to S.M—no copyright infringement intended ***
~ Move Together ~
Just Come Closer
"I hate this place." I muttered around my cigarette, taking a deep drag and blowing the smoke in the direction of my closest friend, Jake. He nodded, presumably in agreement, running a hand through his black, chin length hair. He had cut his long, flowing mane recently — and rather abruptly, I might add — to the chagrin of his father. Even I understood why Billy was upset, hair was granted significance in La Push, home to Quileutes like myself. In sum: the longer, the better.
Looking away from Jake, I took in the scenery. Tall trees, nearly taken over by moss entirely, lined the side of the road. The trees were all you could see for miles and miles. Some days it felt like I would never be able to get beyond the trees, beyond La Push. I pulled my gaze off the annoying vegetation and snapped, "Where the heck is Quil? He was supposed to be here while ago."
Jake shrugged lazily, reflecting his laid back nature. I sighed and scowled, it was in these moments that I envied Jake for his calm demeanour. Unlike him, I was always restless and horribly impatient. I tapped the ash off my cigarette and took another drag with the hope that the nicotine would take the edge off. My irritation dissipated, but only for moment, and I retuned to brooding over the injustice of it all: Quil was the only one between us with access to a car. Without a car, there was not much to do. But Quil was always running late.
I nearly cried with relief a few moments later when I heard the coughing and sputtering of Quil's truck as it turned up Jake's driveway. I glared at Quil as he stepped out of the truck and sauntered over to the porch steps where Jake and I had taken up residence.
"Where the hell have you been?" I asked angrily.
"My apologies, your royal highness, but I had to stop and get gas."
"Apology accepted, peasant." I teased, smirking up at Quil.
He playfully rolled his eyes at me and looked over at Jake, jerking his thumb at me, "Why do we put up with her nonsense again?"
I gasped with exaggeration, for pure dramatic effect, and launched myself off the steps. I landed a light punch on Quil's arm. He quickly pulled me into a head lock and I struggled to break his hold as he messed with my hair, roughly rubbing his fingers back and forth.
"Hey!" I squawked. "Cut it out, Quil!"
Laughing heartily, Quil released me and briefly hugged me to his side. "D'awww, I am sorry, shorty. I just couldn't resist — you're far to easy to rile up."
I faked a glare and poked him in the side, shimmying out from under his arm as Jake eased himself up off the steps, chuckling, "Okay, kids, let's get out of here."
With that, we piled into Quil's truck and headed straight for the diner in Forks owned by Sue Clearwater. Surprisingly, since it was a Friday, we found a spot with ease. I hopped out of the truck, landing with a loud smack as the sole of my boots hit wet pavement. Quil and Jake trailed behind me as I entered the restaurant. Overhead, the bell rang, signalling our arrival. Together, we headed straight for our favourite booth. It was close to the back, by the kitchen.
Sitting next to Jake, I propped up the menu on the table and pretended to read the listed items. Myself and the boys were intimately familiar with this menu, given that this had become a tradition of sorts — every Friday at 8 p.m., since Quil was able to drive, we had been coming to Sue's. I set the laminated booklet down and swept my gaze around the diner, in search of whoever would be taking our order.
Our waitress walked over, pen in hand and ready to write, "What can I get you?"
We quickly rattled off our desired meals and the waitress rushed off to place our orders.
"So…what do you want to do tonight?" Quil asked breaking the silence.
I was about to respond when the bell rang, drawing my gaze toward the Sam Uley. It was a shock that his tall, broad frame managed to fit through the entrance of Sue's spot. He strolled in, taking a seat at one of the stools at the bar that ran the length of the wall opposite to the booths. Sam Uley was adored around these parts. I didn't quite understand why, given that he was just a contractor and sometimes-mechanic. Yet, he was well liked and appeared to have close ties with the Quileute Council. Not to mention that he had an entourage these days — wherever Sam went, Jared and Paul were usualIy in tow. I shook my head, peeling my eyes off of Sam's hulking form, and returned my focus to the conversation at hand.
"We could go and see what Embry is up to. I am pretty sure he is free, plus he usually is willing to steal a few beers from his Dad for us." I offered.
"We can't, he has joined Sam's little cult," Jake spat. "I asked Em what was up, and he just said that he was helping Sam out and couldn't hang with us anymore. Whatever that means."
"How'd you find that out?" Quil pestered, wanting to know more.
Jacob sighed. "I cornered Em and just asked him. But it doesn't make any sense, why would Em volunteer? He was just as weirded out by him as the rest of us a week ago."
I let out a derisive snort, trying to shake off how my gut churned. Something was definitely 'off' about Sam and whoever hung around him. Both Paul and Jared became withdrawn, and always looked like they were on edge and a bit cagey. Never mind that they transformed from average dudes to being built like a fridge — tall and wide — over the span of just a few weeks. I couldn't help but worry about Em.
"I am sure that Em will be fine. He's got a good head on his shoulders." I remarked, despite my own fears.
Both Quil and Jake raised their brows in disbelief and I just shrugged. I really needed to brush up on my acting skills. Shortly after the food arrived and we ate in silence, clearly mulling over the latest development.
A little while later, with bellies full of Sue's delicious cooking, we slid out of the booth and headed for the exit. Just as I was nearing the end of the counter, close to the door, I stumbled, nearly falling but before I could make a complete fool of myself, someone gripped my elbow, steadying me. A shocking spark went zinging up my arm and I gasped, looking into the eyes of who had saved me from my fall: Sam Uley.
My gaze met his and I was startled by his black eyes that fixed my own in place. I felt like I was seeing Sam for the first time but not. A part of me seemed to recognize Sam, as though we had been looking over each other for all our lives. It was like I was experiencing deja vu. My heart skipped a beat and my breathing became a bit uneven and I let my eyes flit about his face. He had high, enviable cheek bones with a straight nose and soft looking lips. His bottom lip was a bit fuller than its counterpart, which made it jut out in a bit of a natural pout. An image flashed in my mind, unbidden, of me sinking my teeth into it. His sharp jaw was peppered with just a bit of stubble and I finished my sweep by returning to those dark eyes, settled under two thick brows that were nearly perfect, save for a tiny scar that marred the left one by by cutting through its arch. Sam gave my elbow a firm squeeze before releasing it. I took a step back and squeaked out, "Thanks."
"No worries," He rumbled out. His voice was deep and rich, darkly sweet like molasses. I could practically feel it as I drew further away from him and the strange energy that cracked and sizzled in the space between us.
I turned on my heel and felt the weight of his gaze on me as I rushed out of the diner, eager to get away after such a strange encounter. I saw Quil and Jake by the truck, horsing around and laughing.
"Come on, Bells!" Jake called. "Let's get out of here!"
I smiled, but it was forced, and quickened my stride. I was too weirded out by what happened in the diner. I felt, with every step, as though I had forgotten something; like I was leaving something behind. I pushed the feeling out of my mind and hurried along.
We pulled up to Jake's house so that he could sneak some beers away from his Dad, Billy. Billy and my Dad, Charlie, would be glued to the TV as they watched whatever game was on and would not be guarding the fridge closely. This happened nearly every Friday.
"Run, Forest, run!" Quil called after Jake, who was bounding up his drive way.
I sat beside Quil, who was nervously tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. I gently placed my hand over his restless one, stilling the motions. "Quil, it'll be fine."
"I'm not nervous about that." Quil muttered, referencing Jake's mission to get us beer. "I am worried about Em."
"Ah, I see."
"Well, yeah, but what can we do? If Em says he's too busy to hang 'cause he's helping Sam, we just gotta leave it there." I commented, knowing that the response wouldn't do much to assuage Quil's anxieties.
"Do you really think that's what is really going on?"
Before I could answer, or give his question much thought, Jake slid into the cab and tossed a six pack of Budweiser onto my lap.
"I thought Billy liked Miller's Genuine Draft?" I grabbed the beer, securing it in my lap.
"Oh, he does. Rachel's boyfriend is over and brought his own drinks." Jake supplied, smirking evilly.
We moved on to Quil's house so that he could grab some snacks. Quil exited the car and quickly walked to his front door. It wasn't until he was inside that I turned to Jake and asked, "Do you think he'll be okay?"
"Yeah, he'll be fine." Jake said indifferently, but I knew he was just as worried as I was.
"I know he'll work through it, but he was really close to Embry."
"Geez, Bells, he'll be fine!" Jake all but growled.
I scowled at him, "What's your deal, Jake? Don't snap at me for showing some concern."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just…" He trailed off.
"Are worried?" I offered, bumping my shoulder against his.
"Yeah." Jake schooled his features, closing himself off. This is the look he had when he didn't want to talk. I had seen it a few times over the course of our friendship whenever I broached a topic he didn't like. I'll never forget when I saw it for the first time at his Mom's funeral.
I let Jake be and we sat in silence until Quil returned, lobbing the bag of snacks into the truck's cab before climbing in. With that, I flipped the radio on and we set off for First Beach where we planned to light a small fire and throw back some beers.
About half way to the beach, Quil slowed down.
"Quil?" Jake asked, stoping his rhythmic tapping on the dashboard.
"Look." He jutted his chin out, directing our gaze.
I turned to look at whatever had caught his attention as the truck slowly creeped along. Looking out the window, I saw Paul and Embry walking along the side of the road barefoot and shirtless. It was now that I could note — in greater detail — how broad their shoulders were, the new definition of their muscles, and how much taller they were. It was hard to believe a mere two weeks ago Embry and Paul had been just as lanky as Jake and Quil. Just as we passed them, Paul met my scrutinizing gaze and I almost jumped out of my skin. I had never felt intimidated around any of the guys before. Now, though, with his angry eyes and hulking form, Paul had raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Once we had cleared them, Quil sped up.
After a mostly silent drive, we found ourselves on First Beach in our favourite spot. The spot in question was set back from the water but not too close to the main road. We sat on an old log that had been smoothed over time in front of a warming fire. I cracked open my can of Bud and took a sip as I looked out at the beach. It was one of La Push's redeeming attributes.
"I cannot wait to get out of here," Quil remarked. Jake and I bobbed our heads like the wave before us and I added, "As soon as we graduate."
While it was the summer now and all of senior year lied ahead, getting out of La Push was not too far off. I planned to take a gap year between high school and college. I wanted to travel for a bit and figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
"Do you guys remember when we were kids and we would sit around fires like this one? Learning about the legends?" Jake asked, opening his second can of beer.
I looked over at him quizzically, puzzled by the abrupt change in topic.
"'Course we do, why?" Quil asked with a mouth full of Cheetos.
"Ewww, man, that's gross." I lamented. Quil just gave me, quite literally, a cheesy grin. I scrunched up my nose in mock disgust before turning to Jake, "Yeah, we remember. What's up?"
"It's just that my Dad keeps talking about them more and more these days. I thought they were just an old scary story but, now, I think there's more to them."
"Come on, Jake, you can't be serious!" Quil guffawed. "We're not actually descendants of wolves."
"But what if there is something to those stories, Quil?" Jake pressed, narrowing his eyes at our friend. "There's been a lot of weird stuff going on lately, especially after that weird family, the Cullens, moved to Forks. Maybe Sam's little following isn't a cult…but something else."
I remained quiet, struggling to take in what I was hearing. "Wait, hold on, what weird family? What are you talking about?"
"My Dad was talking about it earlier today with Old Quil. He seemed really worried. Come on, Bells, think about it. Who might the Cullens be?" Jake arched a brow at me.
I searched my memory, thinking back to those late night bonfires when I was a kid. According to Quileute legends, we were descendants of wolves. More to the point, there was a treaty that kept the peace between us and enemy clan, the Cold Ones.
"The Cullens?" I laughed. " Are you saying they are the Cold Ones? They just moved to Forks though."
"Or maybe they just moved back." A voice called from behind us. I startled, quickly twisting around to see Sam and Paul who looked like they just came from the woods behind them. Which was an absurd thought. What would they be doing in the forest at this time of night?
Paul remained shirtless whereas Sam had a plaid button up loosely hanging from his towering frame. The warm firelight danced across his caramel skin, bathing it in a soft glow. My eyes searched out his once again and I felt myself forget to breathe for a moment. That same strange feeling washed over me again and my fingers twitched at my sides, as if they were itching to touch, to feel that spark again.
"Shut up, Paul!" Quil crowed, snapping me out of my reverie.
Paul took a menacing step forward, letting out a feral growl. I stood, taking a step back along with Jake and Quil, alarmed by the fearsome sound that had reached my ears. I looked at both of them and they mirrored by look of shock and confusion. I was about to ask what that was when I was distracted by the slight rambling of Paul's fingers. I watched with horror as the entire motion climbed up his right arm. Something was very wrong with Paul. Sam laid his hand on Paul's shoulder firmly, breathing out, "Stop."
Just like that, as the order fell from his lips, Paul froze and the shaking ceased altogether. It was if someone had doused him with a cold bucket of water.
"You should all be getting home now." Sam advised, eyeing the empty beer cans with too much interest for my liking. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't want you out here so late partaking in such illegal activities."
I bristled immediately and, before I could even think on it, I said, "What are you gunna do? Tell on us?"
Sam just blinked at me for a moment, his dark eyes revealing nothing, before smirking, "Perhaps."
My eyes widened and I was about to say something else when Jake laid his hand on my forearm, "Come on, Bells, let's just get out of here."
Sam eyed Jake's hand warily, his lip curling slightly with contempt. Shockingly, Jake's touch felt wrong somehow and I found myself tugging my arm out of his grip and walking away, in the direction of Quil's truck. Jake and Quil chased after me and I didn't realize just how fast I was walking until I reached the truck. I turned to the boys, hands gesticulating wildly and out of breath, "What the heck was that all about?"
"I don't even know. Did you hear that sound Paul made?" Quil asked, opening up the driver side door. Jake and I slid into the cab.
"It wasn't human." Jake muttered.
"That's for sure." I added.
As we rode home, I kept replaying the events that played out. What had happened back here? Jake was right, that sound Paul made was not normal or natural and it certainly wasn't human. Maybe we were just hearing things? I asked myself. I mean, we had spooked ourselves a bit by talking about the legends. A shiver worked its way down my spine, and not from the cool breeze spilling into the truck's cab through the open windows.
Later that night, laying in bed, my mind returned to Sam and his dark eyes that swam with secrets I was dying to know. I knew that whatever was going on with Paul, Embry and Jared had everything to do with Sam. Maybe Jake had a point. What if there was substance to these legends? Could it be possible that Sam's growing following wasn't a cult but, rather, a pack?
I nearly laughed but my cell rang, jarring me from my flights of fancy. "Hello?"
"Hey." Jake greeted.
"Just, uh, do me a favour and forget about what I said earlier about the legends. I don't know what I was thinking."
I remained silent for a few moments before I said quietly, "But what if you were on to something?"
Jake laughed weakly, no mirth to be heard, "I don't think so, Bells."
"Are you sure? Is that why you cut your hair?" I queried.
Jake sighed heavily into the receiver. "How do you do that?"
"See right through me."
"Hmmm, I have known you for a while now," I said dryly.
"Yeah, it's part of why I cut it. My Dad commented that I was starting to look like my great-grandfather, you know, Ephriam. That's what started all this talk of legends."
"Ah, I see." I commented. "I'm sure your Dad is just trying to pass his knowledge down to you, you know?"
"Sure, sure," Jake said quickly. "You're right. The legends are just that…legends."
We hung up shortly after that but I don't think Jake, nor myself for that matter, believed that the talk of legends should be dismissed. That night, I tossed and turned restlessly. My dreams were punctuated by dark, watching eyes and wolves running through the woods.
A/N: So, there is the first edited chapter. I have made some significant changes to this story. Most notably, Sam is not a police officer. I am eager to hear from both past and new readers so please don't hesitate to share your thoughts with me by reviewing.
Until next time,