Wherein Jacob fights the imprint
(AU)

A/N: This was written off one of the September 2017 Flash Fiesta prompts on Fictional Retreat. It could possibly be considered as part of, or at least inspired by my fic 'Now & Then'.

Sober

Seventy days. That's how long he's been running away from Renesmee.

Seventy-three days. If he were an alcoholic, he'd be well on his way to collecting some chips for his sobriety.

He mentions this to Leah, and she offers to make him something.

"I could weave you a bracelet," she suggests, "and carve a charm or something for every milestone. I mean, I wouldn't be as good at it as you and your dad or anything-"

"I wasn't being serious."

Leah blinks, then shrugs, as if to say 'Whatever', and Jacob isn't sure whether she's offended or not.

Seventy-four days.

It seems to be better the further away he is from her. Renesmee. His head doesn't hurt as bad, and he's just that little less inclined to go and find her. He doesn't know what he'd say to her exactly - doesn't know how much she would understand, even at the rate she is growing; she's surely got to be bigger than Claire now, but who knows?

Seventy-seven days.

He hasn't phased for just as long. He's scared - no, he's terrified that if he embraces his wolf he'll sprint across state lines to get back to her. That he'll forget why he's doing this in the first place, forget that he's doing it for himself - him, not the wolf.

Because it's the wolf that wants Renesmee. It's the wolf that imprinted on her, and the wolf that begs him to be with her, even if just to see that she's okay. Breathing. Whole.

It doesn't matter that he's not okay. Nobody cares. Not even Leah. She doesn't care that he snaps at her, bites her head off at least six times a day. She lets him rant and rave, or sit in complete silence for hours if he wants to. She suffers his crap, even though she's dealing with her own, and still she stays with him.

Fine. Leah does care. Deep down, he knows that. Otherwise she wouldn't be here with him, miles and miles away in a little town which he can't remember the name of.

(They'll be moving on again tomorrow. They never stay in one place for more than a night.)

If Leah didn't care, she'd push him away when he reaches for her hand, or her body in the night hours. Too many times has he nearly upped and left her before morning, and he thinks - he hopes Leah understands that he curls around her and holds on because he wants to stay.

He's going to beat this.

Seventy-seven days and a half.

The nights are when it's the worst.

Sometimes Jake panics because Leah sleeps so deeply, so soundly, that often she doesn't move for hours on end.

Sometimes Leah shakes him awake. Since he's been tearing himself in half - going one way when his body begs him to do differently - his dreams and his nightmares have been so vivid that his sweat drenches the bed.

And when he kicks her, she kicks straight back.

"Stop it," she hisses, "or you can go on the floor." She turns over in his arms. "I'm so getting my own bed tomorrow."

Even half-asleep, Jacob knows she's lying. They stopped asking for twin rooms a while ago. There was little point in keeping up pretences when they'd started waking up together only a couple days after leaving.

"Liar," he accuses aloud, throat thick with sleep.

Leah kicks him again.

Eighty-two days.

He nearly loses it that morning. He's not even sure why. Leah comes a little too close, is all, when he's least expecting it, when his mind is elsewhere. And the look of rejection on her face when he jerks away is enough to send him over the edge.

She doesn't deserve this.

The heat crawls up his spine and his shoulders tighten, and for a second, he's sure that his shape blurs around the edges. So much for being an Alpha. The Alpha. If he was strong enough, he wouldn't struggle this much.

But he doesn't give in. He will never give in.

"Leah-" He throws out a hand as he coalesces back into himself, reaching for her. But she thinks he's pushing her away, and she takes a step back. "Stop," he says, his breathing ragged. "Please."

"I don't know what you want." She sounds a little bit pissed, a whole lot of worried. "I'm obviously not helping-"

But you are, is what he wants to say.

"Don't go," is what comes out.

Jacob falls back onto the bed, still shaking but more in control of himself. She caught him off guard. That's it. He forces himself to breathe, to think, to remember.

"Okay." Leah sits beside him on the mattress, crosses her legs, and holds his hand in hers.

Ninety days.

Maybe Leah should start carving those charms after all.

Ninety-four days.

They're in Miami. They've been putting as much distance as they can between them and… well, everything, and finally they're just about the farthest away they can get. There's nowhere else to go.

Perhaps this might be the place they finally forgo their one-night-only rule.

"What do we do now?"

"What do you want to do?"

He has no idea.

After a few minutes, Leah turns to the window and watches the beach go past. "You're my best friend," she says. "If you want to go home and love the bloodsucker's spawn, then… I'll go with you. I won't like it, but I'll do it. If that's what you need."

There's a sudden tightness in his chest, and it's not from fighting an oncoming phase.

"And…" He's hesitant, careful. "What if I don't?"

Leah turns back and props her feet up on the dash, getting comfortable, as if she just knows that he has absolutely no intentions of turning the Rabbit around.

"Then we don't go home." she says simply. And she turns the radio up.