A/N: It's my story and I'll cheat if I want to :P
Billy was afraid to hope...
It wasn't the time for misunderstandings.
"You want to know if the legends hint at anything that might undo the imprint."
Years after Billy's throat had turned raw from talking about duty and pride... why now?
So Leah Clearwater had come through after all.
Good. And bad. No son was worse than one chained to the Cold Ones.
Jacob didn't blink as Billy told him a final story, about two men.
One who succeeded. One who died.
Jacob listened until the end and kissed his father's weathered cheek and went to try.
...but Paul just wasn't that observant.
Paul never really liked the leeches, but he helped Brady carry the body of their Alpha—so broken and emaciated that he almost wasn't recognizable—to the vamp Doc as fast as he could.
They waited and as Jacob was rebroken and stitched and who knew what else until he finally stirred.
And suddenly Leah, who hadn't done anything but stare in horror since she got there, burst out:
Paul watched as she launched herself across the room and, careful not to touch his broken body, kissed Jacob Black like the world was ending.
"When did that happen?"
When you don't want to know, sometimes you miss things. Thing #29839 that Charlie Swan never really wanted to learn.
It was last minute, but Billy managed to get a ride from Emily in the end. Only Seth forgot to pass the message on to Charlie, so the police chief pulled up to the Black residence and thought he was expected. When he found the door opened, he went right on in.
"Billy?" he called.
Something thumped in the other room and Charlie poked his head inside to investigate. He had barely taken in the couches when Jacob popped up from behind one of them.
"Can I help you, Charlie?"
"I'm here for Billy," he said. He thought Jacob had gotten better about wearing a shirt in public, but he guessed the rules didn't apply to his own home.
"He already left," Jacob said, shifting uncomfortably, still not moving from behind the couch. "He caught a ride. He said he called you—I'm sorry about this."
"That's fine," Charlie said stepping further into the room, sitting down. "I haven't seen you in a while, Jacob. How have you been?"
"Um...great. All healed up from the accident."
That was when Charlie noticed the shirt on the floor beside the couch—and how it was moving. By itself.
That wasn't right.
And as Jacob inquired as to how Charlie was, the old police officer started noticing things about the room. The table was off center. The couch was in disarray. The pillows were on the floor. And was that a woman's shirt hanging off the lamp...?
"I better be going," Charlie said abruptly, rising to his feet.
Jacob didn't even bother pretending he wanted him to say, just called out, after the retreating policeman: "Nice to see you, Charlie."
The laughter came before Charlie reached the door. Familiar laughter, as familiar as the shirt had been. He slammed the door a little harder than he meant to in his eagerness to escape.
Leah was still laughing as the door closed—at least until Jacob came back down to the floor.