Defining Normal | EMBRY CALL

Dead Wood

His plan doesn't truly start to crystallise until the wheels of the truck cross the Kitsap County line, slowing to a shuddering stop on the shoulder of the highway. The gravel crunches under the tread just the way he likes, making that satisfying pop-pop-pop that reminds him of clandestine adventures down unsealed roads, nights spent with his favourite person (don't think don't think don't think), but he's only half-hearing the noise. Things feel different already, he muses, rolling the window down to let the cool breeze seep in. Maybe it's the distance, or the blissful silence, but he already feels lighter: his shoulders less slumped, his headache diminished to a dull throb. Here on the highway he's surrounded by an enthralling sense of newness, the sort that leaves his skin prickling with anticipation, as if the cells are begging him to press on. Even so, he hasn't a single clue of where to find Jacob, especially without his supernatural senses at his disposal - phasing is still a definite no, as helpful as it would be - and so a phone call is a must.

The phone rings three, four, five times, and just as he's starting to dread the all too familiar voicemail, the receiver crackles into life.

"Hello?"

Embry releases a tense breath, adjusting his death grip on the cell. "Jake. It's me. Where are you?"

"Uh, Port Orchard. Same place as always. Why?"

"No, no," Embry rushes out, shaking his head as if Jacob could see. "Where in Port Orchard? I'm coming to see you."

The line grows awfully silent for a terse few moments. "What's going on, Em?" Jacob asks slowly, almost carefully, as if he dreads the response.

He should.

"I'll explain when I get there. Where can I meet you? Just you, too, if you can swing it."

He can almost see the way Jacob's lips are pressed together, smoothed into a disgruntled expression totally reminiscent of his father. Sam's a decent interim Alpha, but he'll never possess the natural command that Jacob exudes.

Jake will be a fantastic Chief one day.

When everything is different.

Finally, Jacob sighs, though he's not entirely able to conceal his irritation. "Got a pen? Write this address down. I can meet you there in thirty."

Embry scrawls the directions down wordlessly on a discarded Subway napkin, trying not to let his thoughts race ahead.

It's just a meeting.

It won't change anything.

It can't.

Still, his heart is telling him otherwise, and that's the problem.

Jake's forty-five minutes late to the bowling alley. Embry painstakingly counts every minute as it passes by, his eyes flickering to the neon digits on his dashboard more times than he can recall. Time's slipping by, just like the sun's dipping low on the horizon, and for a long while he's positively convinced that Jake's bailing on him. He never has, not since the first few weeks of phasing when Embry had been the odd one out, but the thought of a no-show is still too troubling to dismiss. It's only when Jake peels into the lot, edging his mud-striped Chevy Tahoe into the faded lines on the blacktop, that Embry really lets himself believe that it's happening.

From the very moment that Jake slides out of the truck, Embry can feel himself snapping to attention, his back rigid, muscles taut. The Alpha pull is too strong to resist - if Lex is a fishing magnet, Jake's the freaking sun, and Embry's just a hapless planet being pulled into orbit. He's keenly aware of every minute change in Jake's demeanour, from the slight furrow in his brow to the way his fingers curl into loose fists. Pacing over to Jake's car, falling into step with the taller man's stride, is as easy as breathing. Just like it always has been, as if Jake had never left, as if they were normal and the imprints and the supernatural race war had never happened.