Jacob makes it to work early the next morning. It's not out of eagerness as he fiddles with the coffee pot, trying to clean it around a yawn. He just feels like he needs a place to think. A place where there aren't four other sets of thoughts just floating in the air. 

The plan was to get some work done. Any work would be great, but instead he finds himself staring up at the brown stains on the ceiling while sipping his coffee. He was hoping it could work miracles because he felt exhausted.

Normally, he'd be ecstatic. It was a Friday. A Friday where he'd be swamped in questions about a case that he couldn't answer, but a Friday nonetheless. No one was expecting him to be in the office on a Saturday and definitely not a Sunday. He could just sink into his sheets and hope that he didn't dream about anything death related.

However, he was skating pass the entire family like he was the one who'd gone and done something...

Jacob, finally, allows himself to think about it. Really think about it. His older cousin, who hadn't imprinted on anyone that Jacob knew of, hadn't brought anyone around, hadn't told Jacob shit, was having a kid. Was he sneaking out? Why did it matter? He's family, but Jacob would rather just pretend like the conception was planned with someone who cared about him. Preferably, the person he'd imprinted on. He wanted to pretend like there was no way Quil had gone and gotten pregnant with someone from another pack. He hadn't gone and had an affair with someone who was already marked. He wouldn't do that...

"Boss?" He almost knocked over his coffee as he spun around to see Mike standing at the door.

"What?"

"Everyone's waiting." He says, glancing over to the clock on Jacob's wall that says he's a good ten minutes late to meeting with the team.

He doesn't even bother with words as he pushes himself up from his desk, ignoring the cold coffee, and followed Mike.

The meeting is just full of them throwing out more theories. No one had anything. The trail just seemed to have run cold.

"Carver's again, Boss?" Mike called over the hood of the car.

"Carver's?" Edward asks, wishing that Emmett would just shut up. "They weren't closed long."

"Yeah, Rosie really liked it." Emmett gushed and Edward was almost relieved that he seemed distracted. "But yeah, he was there with that bumbling officer. The blonde one with the blue eyes."

"Good for him." Edward mumbles, trying to sound distracted as he scribbles down notes on their John Doe. He'd fallen behind due to other work so he wasn't able to get the autopsy report to Jasper so he could drop it off today.

"Good for him? He's dating a dumbass." Emmett starts, somehow seeming even more invested in making conversation. 

"And that's his right, Em." Edward tries to remind him. He'd reread the same sentence four times. 

Emmett had sauntered into the lab this morning distracted. He'd barely spoken to Edward, but he kept watching him every so often. Edward now regretted pushing the issue. He'd thought maybe things hadn't gone over so well with his date. 

Not only that, but Jasper was giving him these looks. They were pitying. At least he wasn't drawing anymore. 

"It's a Friday. We should go out. Maybe we can find you someone with better taste." Emmett's stating, eyes now looking determined.

"No!" Is all Edward has the energy to say before he's spinning back around to reread his sentence a couple more times.

"Fine, then we'll make him break up with the idiot." 

Edward sighs, finally giving up and resting his head in his hands. He just sits there a minute, and for the first time since he'd accidentally torn down the dam at lunch, there was silence.

It lasts for a good ten minutes.

"You aren't crying, are you?"

Jacob says no to Carver's. He regrets it as soon as he arrives in front of his house and parks his car, but it's far too late to turn around now as he ambles out and heads up the driveway. He takes his slow time shuffling up to the porch. Eventually, he's facing the door. He wants to turn back around. He swings it open, hobbles inside and is met by complete silence.  

He almost has some form of hope as he slowly makes his way upstairs. He wants to lie down in his bed and not think about anything. However, instead, he finds himself staring at Quil who is perched on his duvet, fiddling with a paperweight from his desk.

Somehow, he manages to startle him and the weight slips out of his hands and lands on the floor with muffled thump.

"Jake," He sighs and Jacob can feel the nervousness radiating off of him.

"Yeah, Quil, this is my room." His brain immediately goes to teasing. It's his cousin, it's familiar territory.

"Right, that's why it fucking stinks in here." Quil responds and he almost smiles.

Jacob lets out a sigh, dropping the evidence he'd brought home on the desk and plopping into the chair.

For a minute they both just sit in silence.

"It's Embry's!" Quil finally blurts out. 

Jacob's not sure what face he's making, but Quil finally does laugh. He laughs his ass off, almost falling of off the bed. 

"So, would you stop fucking looking at me like that?" He finally gets out through gasps of air.

Jacob wants to start laughing, too, in relief, but he's had a long day, so he instead sinks down in his chair and wishes he'd brought a beer up with him.

"Stop looking at me all disappointed." Quil says again after he's finally calmed down.

"You imprinted on Embry?" He asks, staring at nothing in particular. He'd think he would remember that. Granted, he'd been more than a little off his game lately. He felt like he was fucking swimming in Jello.

"I wasn't before...am now." He mumbles and Jacob has a feeling that he doesn't plan on elaborating. 

He'd have to talk to Embry at some point. Their his best friends and neither one of them said a word about it to him.

"You didn't say anything." 

"Well, most pack members don't have to. You haven't said anything." Quil counters.

"Said anything about what?" Jacob asks, gripping the arm of his chair. If he was about to have the same fucking conversation that he'd had for the past three days, he was going to lose his mind.

Quil's sitting there, hand placed carefully over his stomach, eyeing Jacob down.

"There's nothing wrong with having a someone."

Jacob's perched once again in the cafe because he couldn't sleep. Mike's across from him, this time with a burger and fries. 

"Those cheese fries really messed my stomach up." He admits, answering a question Jacob hadn't wanted to be answered.

He has his eyes clamped shut, beer pressed to his brow. 

"You okay, Dude? You sure you don't want me to drive you home?" Mike's touching him again, this time his wrist, trying to get his attention.

He doesn't really answer, can't really bring himself to. 

He'd thought after his talk with Quil, he'd relax a little. No fights needed to be had, he could just go back to stressing out over work. However, his head felt like it was about to fall off of his shoulders.

He puts the beer down, trying not to breathe in the smell of it. 

"I'm gonna go outside." He thinks he says before he stands from the chair and quickly makes his way out of the restaurant.

He gets about a good two steps outside before he's stumbling to his knees and puking on what felt like grass. 

His hearing is going in and out, but he can hear people yelling. He can hear a couple of startled gasps, a couple of not-so-happy disgusted sounds. 

"Hey, man." 

Jacob is expecting Mike to be squatting down in front of him. Instead, he's met with the big guy from Edward's group. Standing next to him is a beautiful woman dressed like she was expecting a better night than the one she was getting. 

"See, he was so bland, he made him vomit." He heard her say to Emmett.

"Do you need a doctor?" He wants to say no, wave them off, but feels like if he opens his mouth, he's going to vomit again. If he lifts his hand up, he's going to to topple over.

Eventually, they must get tired of waiting for an answer and he can feel himself being supported on a shoulder before being slid across leather seats. He's not awake long enough to ask any questions.

Edward plans his weekends. Usually, he'd be off somewhere outside of Forks or he'd have a hunting trip. This weekend, he just wanted to do nothing but sit in his house. It'd started sprinkling outside and a strong wind was going to be coming soon so he'd put some wood in the fireplace. It was less out of necessity, and more for ambiance. He just wanted to relax. Forget about work for a while.

He's about halfway through his book when there's a knock on the door. 

He's not sure what he was expecting when he opened it, but it wasn't Emmett standing in front of him holding an unconscious detective with Rosalie on his arm.

"What did you do?" Are the first words that leave his mouth after Emmett has him laid across the couch.

"I didn't do anything. Why do you always think I'm up to no good?" Emmett huffs.

"Then, why is he here?" Edward asked, turning to look at Black who hadn't moved a muscle.

"He was throwing up outside of the restaurant." Emmett supplied, "I asked him if he needed help, but he could barely form a sentence."

Rosalie nodded, agreeing with the entire story.

"What were we supposed to do? Leave him there?" Emmett asked.

"Call an ambulance." Edward retorts. He's doing everything he can to keep calm.

"And startle the people eating there? They've already had one death. You want us to ruin their reputation further?" Rosalie asks, and she sounds exactly like Emmett when she says it. Emmett must've noticed as he looked over to her, absolutely beaming. 

"Fine, fine. Leave." Edward pointed to the door. It seems like that's the cue they were looking for as they raced out of his house, no doubt on their way back to the restaurant.

Once they were gone, he had to actually deal with the problem. He lets out a sigh and quickly makes his way upstairs to get supplies.

When he returns, the detective is staring up at the ceiling. 

"Hi." Edward greets him awkwardly, trying not to move too quickly as he makes his way over to the man.

"Where am I?" He slurs, eyes sluggishly looking around the space.

"My home. Emmett, one of my assistants, thought it was a good idea to bring you here." He starts laying out his options on the table. He doesn't have much. He doesn't really invite humans into his home so he only keeps a first aid kid and some standard medicines like Tylenol for appearances.

"I don't..." Jacob starts and it seems as if he loses his sentence.

"You lost your meal outside of the restaurant and Emmett was trying to help. Do you still feel nauseous?" 

Edward can tell that he's searching in his mind for what Edward'd just told him, but eventually he gives up leaning back on the couch.

"Head hurts." He finally sighs out. His eyes fall closed and Edward thinks he's passed out again.

"I can give you some Tylenol." Jacob only gives him a soft hum in a response so Edward pours out two into his hand, before handing them over with a glass of water. Jacob eventually manages to take them before he's barely moving on the couch again.

He wishes Emmett wasn't Emmett. When his brother got a hold of an idea, he wasn't planning on letting it go. There was no way he was going to pass on hand delivering Edward what he has concluded to be the love of Edward's life. Even though he was a giant musclehead, the man was a romantic. So, he was stuck sitting here with a sick man on his couch while a shelter-in-place storm was on the brink of brewing outside.

 It's been two hours and he just didn't have it in him to move Black. He'd fallen asleep, but every time he was awake, he looked like was going to puke on Edward's nice carpet.

For some reason, Edward's still sitting here. He's sitting in an armchair, waiting for something to happen. He's not sure what he thinks will happen. The man's not losing blood. Edward could just sit a bucket beside him and make his way upstairs, but instead he just waits.

He can hear the storm swirling. He can see from the window that it's gotten significantly darker outside. It's almost eleven. The alarm had gone off on his phone that people were being advised to find shelter.

The storm was going to be a big one. 

He shouldn't leave him downstairs.

Jacob wakes up in the dark. He feels sweaty and uncomfortable, but for the first time in about three days, his head felt numb. His stomach, on the other hand, felt like it was bubbling. He'd barely managed to even eat anything today or over the last few days, but his stomach felt like hell. He fumbled for some form of light and only found it when a flash of lightening flickered through the windows followed by the loud boom of thunder.

He switched on the lamp and pulled himself from under the duvet, scrambling toward the first door he saw and almost collapsing with the relief when he realized that it was a bathroom. The only thing that really comes up is water. He sits there for a moment trying to get his bearings before he hobbles back into the other room, finally coming to the conclusion that he has no clue where he is.

"I can give you some pepto bismol." Jacob almost jumps out of his own skin at the sound of the voice.

He swings around to see Cullen standing in the doorway, looking at him sympathetically. He wanted to say no, get his shit together, and head home, but by the sound of the wind whipping against what he assumes to be Cullen's house, he's not sure he'd make it far.

He wants to ask why he's here, but by the look on the doctor's face, he felt like it'd only make him more concerned. Jacob wasn't looking to have to stay here longer than he needed to.

"I'm fine." He finally answers.

"Do you remember arriving here?" He follows up, finally coming into the room. He was inching up on Jacob like he was some kind of scared animal.

"I guess." He answers noncommittally. He remembers going to the cafe with Mike. Mike. Where was Mike? He swings around as if he'd find him quietly sitting in a corner.

"I had someone inform Officer Newton," Cullen says, slowly raising a hand to place it against Jacob's forehead. The doctor frowns. 

"I need to give you something for a fever." Then, he's watching as the man rushes out of the door. 

Jacob slumps onto the bed. It feels like all of the energy has been drained out of him. He gets the distant thought that he should call Leah.

He wakes up again about five minutes later to the doctor hovering over him. 

"Unless you want me to insert these anally, you're going to have to wake up." Is the first thing he hears when he opens his eyes. Whatever the pills are, he quickly swallows them and gulps down the water before he's laying back down.

"Do you want soup?" 

Jacob gets the image of Leah standing over him, mothering him, constantly asking him if needs anything.

Edward exits the room quietly. Trying not to feel to miffed about being told to 'go away' or being called someone else's name. Who was Leah?

He shuffles back down the hall and into his bedroom, not even bothering to pick up the book he'd abandoned and instead placed himself back on the cushioned chair in the corner of his room. He checks his phone and sees that there is a text from Emmett. 

'You two fall in love yet?'

He closes the messages and decides to find something to keep himself busy until Black was awake again.

Edward's knee deep in cookbooks when the detective slowly makes his way downstairs. The storm is now in full effect. He can see on the news that it's already done some damage. 

Black looks lost as he slowly finds his way into the kitchen. 

"What do you think of chicken noodle soup?" Edward asks, but the detective's eyes are on the TV.

"Shit." He hisses out, fumbling through his pockets only to realize that they aren't his clothes.

"You'd sweat through almost everything." Edward informed him, your stuff is over there. He pointed towards the couch where the clothes were neatly stacked. Jacob's keys, phone, and wallet were settled on top.

Jacob quickly made his way over and grabbed for his phone. He stood there for a moment, seemingly already regretting whatever he was about to do before he started dialing the number. 

Leah was going to be pissed. She was going to yell his head off. 

The phone only rung once before he could hear her voice on the other line.

"Where the hell are you?" 

She was absolutely furious, he could feel it through the phone. She was keeping her tone down, so Jacob was guessing it was really late. He knows he'd fucked up. Quil, for no reasons beside the fact that he was the leader, probably wanted him there for the storm. He was sure the others had built a nest for him just fine. His mate was there. He's sure it went smooth enough.

"I got sick." Jacob decides to wander further away from the kitchen. He didn't need a coworker hearing him get scolded. He made his way to the top of the stairs.

"Sick?" Her scalding tone shifted to worried within a second. 

"Yeah, the doctor said I got sick at the restaurant and someone dropped me off. I don't remember I just...When I woke up, the storm was already here." He shittily summarized before promptly plopping himself down at the top of the stairs. He leans his head against the banister.

"Are you better now?" 

The room is spinning a little. He tries to communicate this to Leah.

Edward almost trips over the stack of cookbooks as he quickly makes his way up the stairs. He can basically feel the detective losing his bearing as he flies up the last six to catch the man from toppling down the rest of the staircase. He can hear someone talking on the phone. Edward assumes, based on the conversation, that it's a family member. He'd try to get to her later, but right now, he's stumbling down the stairs trying to get Black back onto the couch. His fever isn't as bad, but he's still quite warm. Edward watches him for a moment, before remembering the phone.

He makes his over to find the phone sitting on the last step.

"JACOB!" He reels back from the device and tries to regather himself.

"Ma'am?" He calls over the phone. He can hear the woman shuffling, "He's okay. He just fainted." 

He was trying to sound reassuring, but over the phone, he was sure it sounded anything but.

"Who is this?" He'd be a bit more annoyed at her tone if she hadn't just heard her brother? fall down part of a staircase.

"This is Dr. Cullen. He's fine." He tries to sound professional, maybe to make up for the fact that Black...Jacob is at his house and she already doesn't sound very happy with him.

"Tell him to call me as soon as he wakes up." The demand almost sounded like a threat. Then, the call ends.