Chapter Twenty-Four

"Due to undefined forces and unforeseen circumstances, you have bonded with your partner. Now, base your explanation and my research, it seems harmless. Nothing happens unless you let it. So, my question to you: why does it bother you so much?"

"I didn't say it bothered me," Leah contested, eyeing Dr. Murad as placed her notepad and pen aside. Their conversation was now focused on the supernatural, something, as Dr. Murad had informed Leah, too sensitive to leave a paper trail. Though protected by therapist-client privilege, she wanted to protect the generally unknown populace; Leah couldn't understate how much she appreciated the therapist's sense of care.

"You implied it," Dr. Murad said, folding her hands over her crossed legs. "Heavily."

Leah frowned. Dr. Murad could be such a pain in the ass sometimes. Why she had to call her out? Why couldn't she just let her be great? Why the hell did Leah mention her issue with the bond in the first place? It wasn't the end of the world. She could handle it without talking about it, in length, to someone.

Leah ended up not giving the therapist a response (she admitted didn't have one). Based on the knowing expression on her face, Dr. Murad didn't expect an answer. If she had been anyone else, she would have smirked at her client's silence.

"I may not personally know the man," Murad said. "But from all accounts provided by you, he seems to be okay with this bond."

Leah rolled her eyes and waved dismissively. "Because he's him," she said. "He's always okay with everything."

That wasn't true. Among other things, he wasn't okay with his father or his cousin who was currently running a gang. He wasn't okay with the vampires (or anyone else in that matter) getting away with crimes. He definitely wasn't okay with Leah thinking she was somewhat of a burden to him.

Dr. Murad studied Leah for a moment; her expression wasn't well-defined, but Leah knew the therapist long enough to figure out what was going on in her mind. "Have you had an honest conversation with him?" Murad asked, unperturbed.

"Yes."

To be honest, no.

"And?"

Jacob had brushed her off. Okay, that might have been too strong—he had thought, still thought, was making a big deal out of nothing. For the last time, Leah, you're trapping me, Jacob had told her. Leah, we could work on this. It's not a big deal.

But something told Leah that he was leaving some things out. Lying by omission. Whether he realized it or not.

Leah locked eyes with Dr. Murad. The other woman was patiently waiting for an answer. Leah supposed she could give her what she wanted, but she had to start from the beginning. Somewhat.

"There was this woman," Leah started off. She swallowed and adjusted her seat on the couch. "Pretty, could be Jacob's type, but didn't have the chance to find out because I drove her away…" She sighed. "Jacob, being him, of course, brushed it off, but I'm not blind. I knew that look in her eyes." It reminded her of Emily during that fated night last December. "I asked him the following morning if this bond-thing we have… if it's trapping him. Preventing him from, I don't know, finding someone else."

Dr. Murad slowly nodded. "I assume your kind can sense… things, correct?"

It wasn't the question Leah had expected, but this again, this was Murad she was dealing with. "More or less, yes."

"What did he say?

"He downplayed everything," Leah replied, frustrated. "As usual. Like it wasn't a big deal."

"Maybe it's not?" Murad suggested with a shrug. "Which brings me back to my earlier question: why is this bond bothering you?"

"I have no idea what the hell is going on," Leah confessed. "And it doesn't help that he doesn't either." She pulled at her hair. "For fuck's sake, he was born this way! Shouldn't he know how to deal with this shit?"

"Just because he's a natural-born doesn't mean he knows everything," Murad carefully explained. "It's not much different from human experiences. For instance… Leah, Tell me, when you first, I don't know, fell in love with Sam, did you know what you were doing?"

"No, it's not the same thing." Leah insisted, vehement, and then let out another frustrated sigh. "I don't know. It's just sometimes, I feel like he's not being completely honest with me. Like he's scared to tell me the truth."

If Leah expected any resemblance of sympathy from the therapist, she would be sorely disappointed. For the most part, Murad's expression was… expression. But for a brief second, it seemed that Murad was resisting the urge to throw something at Leah. To knock some sense into her, somehow.

"With all due respect, Leah, aren't you doing the same thing to him?" Before Leah could interrogate her on the meaning of her comment, Dr. Murad checked the time and announced, "Time is up for this session. Next week, same time?"

She'd like to think she was upfront with Jacob.

Hell, she had even told him about that one when she had literally pulled a gun on her then-husband, a move that could have cost her the badge and her freedom.

"I've been more than honest with him," Leah later told Aisha over the phone. "The guy even knows about my sex life. Well, sort of lack thereof."

"Not to sound…" Aisha trailed off and swallowed. "But you are kind of, sort of, being defensive."

"You're not helping, Aisha."

"I'm only making an observation," Aisha quickly said before Leah could yell at her. She knew her friend very well. "I don't think the woman's trying to call you out. She's a therapist, it's her job to make you mull over her life decisions—and sex life? Is that what you talk about during your long car rides? Talk about a lack of boundaries."

"There's only so much bad music on the radio you can listen to," Leah argued. And it was easy to talk in the car. It was usually just the two of them. "Do you think I'm taking things to another level?"

"Oversharing doesn't always equate to being upfront," Aisha argued, and then, "No one is truly upfront with anyone. We all have secrets, hold things back. I'm pretty sure your therapist just wants you and Jacob to have an honest conversation with this whole-bond mess. Nothing barred."

"It's not like we haven't tried…"

"Try harder," Aisha said, then, "Hey, it doesn't become a problem until it does. Is it a problem?"

Leah sighed. "No."

"Then, there you go. And please, don't find another therapist. I think going to her has done some wonders."

Leah frowned as she took a carton of much-needed ice out the freezer. "Yeah… I'll keep her for now."

With all due respect, Leah, aren't you doing the same thing to him?

For the first time, Leah could confidently say that Dr. Murad, with all her wisdom, didn't know what the hell was she was talking about.

Leah didn't mention anything to Jacob about the bond the following day or the next.

He seemed content with it, completely unbothered, and she was she.

"Aisha's been pretty cryptic lately," Leah told Jacob one Monday morning. Late last night, Aisha had texted Leah the following Monday, informing her that a bombshell was about to drop. Another bombshell— Leah knew that the rest of the workday, the rest of the week was going to be dramatic. And long, so long that she had to resist an urge to take up the L.A. trip idea months in advance. Many months in advance.

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Jacob said, hanging Leah her coffee; he was still standing by his peace offering. "If it was that bad," he continued before greeting some cops along his way to the station entrance. "Paul would've told us over the weekend."

Which is exactly the problem, Leah thought, taking a sip of the much-needed drink. Paul had a habit of not telling anyone anything until after they enjoyed their weekend.

"I appreciate your optimism," Leah mumbled as skimmed Aisha's text for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to see the other detective until the of the day, thanks to a grand jury.

"Did you get Quill's text?" Jacob asked, changing the subject. "The only with the photoshopped pic of all us at Paul's?"

"I don't appreciate having my face be replaced with a puppy," Leah complained. Yes, she had received the text. It was pretty funny, she had to admit, but, "I'm a wolf, damn it."

Jacob laughed.

Last Saturday's "dinner party" had been pretty uneventful, and by uneventful, Leah meant enjoyable. The food had been great. Lisa had been charming (and could make a mean pot roast). Embry had spent most of the night, making sure he still had a girlfriend after that night—he must have it bad, Leah decided. The rest of the pack had made a concerted effort not to embarrass the living daylights of Embry; there had been little jabs, here and there, but it could've been worse.

Lisa still didn't know about Embry's true self, but that was something Embry had to tackle. Leah wasn't going to get involved. And after much persuasion (loosely-veiled threatening), Jacob and the rest of the packet had agreed to stay out of it as well—Embry would tell Lisa at the right time. Or maybe not at all. But he was a grown man; let him make the decision.

Leah intended to send Quill a strongly worded, but somehow, light-hearted response to his work, but then, she received the following text from Benjamin: You may want to turn to the news. Or check Twitter. Up to you.

The feds had Sonya DuPont.

The socialite turned possible trafficker (and all members of her posse) was arrested at her second home up in Evanston this morning. Apparently, she hadn't resisted.

As soon as the news spread around the station, most of the casework halted as the members' of the Voldemort Unit shifted their attention to the office's television, eagerly waiting for the upcoming press conference. This was a big story, even bigger than the corruption scandal from last year because everyone who had a pulse (even vampires) knew who Sonya DuPont, also known as Heidi Baumgartner, was.

Federal prosecutor, Carolina Barba looked as smug as ever as she spoke to the press. This was a slam dunk case, the lawyer essentially said, using her usual legal jargon. The feds were slapping any RICO charge they could think of on Sonya. She was going to have to relinquish all of her hard-earned assets thanks to her involvement in trafficking. Goodness only knew what would happen to her employees.

"Why didn't she pull a Volturi?" Aisha said. She was sharing a table with Leah, Jacob, Martinez, and Embry. "She could've been chilling with them in Moldova or some other country without an extradition treaty. If she played her cards right."

To be honest, Leah wondered the same thing. Even with all of the seizures, she was positive that Heidi had hidden funds somewhere and enough to live comfortably in another country. But now, she remained in the United States. Hell, she remained in Chicago.

"And now she's going to Alcatraz," Embry remarked, shaking his head.

"Trafficking is a serious crime," Leah commented, crossing her arms, and she leaned back against her seat. Barba was still talking. "Wonder if they'll ever do anything about her husband."

"The man committed suicide," Aisha mumbled, unraveling a piece of gum.

Everyone else snorted.

"Do you honestly believe that?" Martinez asked. "I thought you were better than that."

Aisha rolled her eyes and gave the man the finger. "Honey, I've been in this business long enough not to believe anything," she said. "And who cares what happened in real life? On paper, he committed suicide, then he committed suicide."

"Like Mike," Embry said.

"No, his death didn't have an official designation," Jacob pointed out. "Bella was being cautious."

"Oh, how she's doing?" Martinez wondered. "Haven't seen her in a minute."

"It's been pretty quiet on the homicide-front," Jacob said.

Aisha shot Jacob a dirty look. "Don't jinx it, Black," she warned.

"What? I'm only making an observation."

"And now, with our luck, another multiple homicide case in the horizon for us," Aisha said. It was hard to discern if she was serious or not. "Let me make a wild guess: nine bodies?"

"You're awfully specific," Embry said, sending Aisha wary looks.

"As long as it's not the second coming of the slaughterhouse or Saint Patrick's, I'm good," Leah said.

Everyone nodded.

"You got that right," Martinez said, slapping the table. "You got that right."

"She's going to take the plea," Jacob remarked, eyes glued to the television. Out of everyone at the table, he seemed to be most interested in what Barba and the feds had to say.

"How do you know?" Embry asked.

"You think a woman like her want to spend all of eternity in Alcatraz?"

"She won't last long in public," Leah followed. "If she takes the plea, it's only because she's cooperating. Cooperating witnesses are a liability."

Which was most likely why Jane had implied that the Volturi put a hit on Heidi. Now, as she was thinking about it, maybe it was good, for Heidi's sake, that she was going to Alcatraz. The security went beyond super-max.

"Well, let's just hope she talks because she gets offed," Paul remarked, startling everyone as he stood next to their tables, arms crossed. He looked to his left. "Cameron, get the Bureau on the phone!"

"You think they'll let us in the case?"

"They're gonna have to," Paul said. "We got to her first."

"She's been on their radar," Aisha pointed out.

"Yeah, but we got to her first," Paul argued. "We got her to talk, got her to hire one of the best lawyers in the business. That's leverage."

"I appreciate your confidence, Captain," Jacob said.

"Well, someone has to have some," Paul said, then, "Clearwater, check with Hale to see if she's willing to give a statement about her newly-arrested client. She seems to like you. Hopefully, enough to give you something valuable."

Leah nodded. "Already on it. I scheduled a meeting for tonight, Captain."

"Tonight? Can't be earlier?"

"She's a vampire," Leah reminded the man. "She operates better at night."

"You don't seem too surprised by your client's arrest," Leah remarked casually before popping a piece of gum into her mouth. She was sitting inside Rosalie's office; after hours, of course. Due to the recent events, Rosalie had been too preoccupied to even answer the detective's phone call—To be honest, Leah was shocked that the lawyer had agreed to speak to her even now. It was only eight o'clock. A lot of shit could go down between now and tomorrow morning.

Rosalie made a noise in her throat as she maneuvered around her office. Even for a vampire, she appeared exhausted. Even for a woman like Rosalie, she appeared disheveled. Her suit jacket was strewn across her office couch. Her heels had been tossed aside; her expensive blouse's sleeves were rolled up. Definitely unlike the usual Rosalie—But Leah understood. The woman had a long day.

"Can't hide your skeletons in the closet forever..." Rosalie eventually replied, pouring herself a glass of blood. "I offered her to leave the country, but she refused. The feds have been on her since her convenient Murder-One acquittal. No one believes Matthieu DuPont took his own life."

"And you?"

Rosalie gave Leah a look before offering the detective a water bottle, which was politely refused. "Does it matter?" she asked. "The case's been closed."

"It can be re-opened."

"It wouldn't be worth it," Rosalie said. "Heidi's in trouble for trafficking, not the supposed murder of his husband. Two separate entities."

Leah drew her eyebrows together. It was bizarre seeing Rosalie like this, so, dare she say it? Defeated. It was even more bizarre that Rosalie wasn't holding anything in. She was always big on not showing any weakness, not being open. But then again, it had been a long day.

"Why did you agree to become her lawyer?" Leah asked, following a moment of silence. It was a question that had been nagging at her for some time. "This is a losing battle, and you know it."

"Everything we do, we do it for our benefit," Rosalie said. "I already got what I needed," then with a smirk, "Don't worry, Detective, it has nothing to do with your precious investigation. I'm not that stupid."

"Are you implying that you're sometimes stupid?" Leah replied with a light chuckle.

Rosalie took a sip of her drink and scoffed, "Aren't we all?"

Leah couldn't deny it.

Rosalie drank some more and carefully placed her glass aside. She sat behind her desk, unrolling her sleeves and buttoning their cuffs. "And thank you for Novak," she said, looking relieved. "I had to admit, the news of his arrest brought a smile to my face. It's been a while."

The comment caused Leah to accidentally swallow her gum. She hadn't expected that. Rosalie thanking her? Was she in the Twilight Zone? Was this a trick? Leah straightened up in her seat and said, "I doubt you're going to get your ten-grand returned anytime soon." Her head cocked to the left. "And a smile? Novak ratted on Edward. I thought you'd be pissed off about that."

Rosalie let out a sigh. "Edward, I have to admit, is like a brother to me. He really is, but what he did to Mike?" she shook her head. She was disappointed in the turn of events; Leah saw it in her eyes. "That was almost as stupid as Lauren running her mouth to you and your coworkers. Sometimes, one has to fail, has to suffer to become a better person."

"Tough love, huh?"

"Sometimes, it's the best kind of love. The most useful."

"You wanted to see me?"

The question was rhetorical. It was 8:55am, five minutes until Leah's scheduled meeting with her captain. Today was the dreading performance review day, something Leah wanted to but knew she wouldn't be able to get out of. Maybe, she considered as she watched Paul speak rather animatedly over the phone, Paul would be so preoccupied with the usual department bullshit, that he'd forget about it.

She would love that.

Leah bit her lip and glanced at the office area behind her. She could return back to work; she had about four reports that needed to be revised. She turned her attention back to her captain, who was still on the phone, looking like he wanted to strangle the man on the other line. Based on the muffled voice, it sounded like Larson, one of CPD commanders. He and Paul went way back, which explained why the captain was currently dropping f-bombs without worrying about being reprimanded.

"Should I come back later?" Leah asked.

Paul glanced up at the detective, shook his head, and pointed at a chair in front of his desk before returning his attention to his phone call. "Look, I don't give a damn what the mayor says. He's not chasing around supernatural gangsters for a living!"

Leah already had one foot out the door. "Captain—"

Paul looked at Leah and lifted up a finger. "Larson, I'll call you later. And for the love of God, don't do anything that'll get us all the pink slip. Your husband will kill you. I will kill you." He hung up the phone. "Sorry. Police management strikes again," he told Leah. "Sit, please."

Leah did what was she was told. "Is everything alright?"

Paul folded his hands and leaned over his desk, slightly frowning, "Be honest with me, Leah. You think the higher powers will let me resign today with dignity?"

It must have been a rough morning for Paul.

Leah wanted to give her captain what he wanted. She wanted to provide him with some words of solace, of sympathy, but she knew the man. He wouldn't have wanted that. "Not a chance," she said.

Paul slapped the tabletop. "Shit."

"You could've said no to the job."

"I should've said no," Paul replied immediately, and then backtracked, "No, that's not true. I like this work. Keeps me on my toes; it's the damn bureaucracy that's getting on my nerves." He slapped a hand on the desk. "Shit, I should've fought for a lieutenant."

Leah tilted her head. "I often wonder about that," she said, "I thought the higher powers like sticking to the chain of command."

"They wanted me to be a direct supervisor without losing the title," Paul said, waving his hand dismissively. "The usual BS."

"Ah." Leah nodded. "But, you should get a lieutenant."

"At this point, I don't think I have much of a choice," Paul admitted. "This was supposed to be a simple taskforce. Ten people max. Maybe if the circumstances become too crazy, get some people from outside agencies. Now, I have thirty people to worry about."

"You need a middle-man," Leah suggested. "Get a lieutenant, Captain."

"I know, I know," Paul mumbled, and then, raised an eyebrow. He looked up at Leah, curious. "So?"

Leah already knew what he was going to ask. "No."

Paul sighed. He wasn't surprised. "You've never considered being a lieutenant? Never thought about taking the test?" he wondered. "And I don't exactly mean for here. There may be a conflict of interest issue. And I really don't want to deal with Internal Affairs anytime soon."

Paul's relationship with Internal Affairs was complicated.

"I deal with enough action," Leah told Paul, adamant. "I'm content with being a simple detective."

"It's more money."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Are you trying to drive me out of the Voldemort Unit?"

"Absolutely not," Paul quickly insisted. "But I don't want to hold anyone back."

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'd like some stability for once in my life."

"Well, yeah. I guess that's important, too."

"You can ask Jacob," Leah offered.

"You want to get rid of him that bad?" Paul asked with a laugh, and then, "No, no, no, he doesn't want it. Lord knows I've tried." He clapped his hands. "But enough about me. We're here for your performance review—"

"You could, you know, just postpone it."

"Where's your confidence, Detective?" Paul teased as he pulled out Leah's file from the metal file cabinet behind him. "Trust me, you'd know if I thought you were doing a horrible job." He gave Leah a pointed look. "Have I once banished you to desk-duty purgatory?"

Leah swallowed. "No."

"Exactly." Paul opened Leah's file and began quickly reading off the first page. All good things. "If it makes you feel better," he later added, "I won't mention your insubordination stunt in the tunnels."

Leah's gaze dropped her to lap. It hadn't been her finest hour, she admitted. "I'd appreciate that."

"Honestly, it's not worth the hassle," Paul said. "Do you know how many questions my bosses are going to ask? Can you imagine the paperwork?" He shook his head. "My head hurts thinking about it—Leah, for everything holy, don't do that again."

"I won't," Leah promised, and then, "Is that it?"

Paul shrugged, closing Leah's file. He was never the only for lengthy conversations about performance. He was the type to let his employees, right then and there. Some cops liked it; some didn't. "Besides me not stopping you from getting a raise, albeit a slight one? No."

Leah let out a sigh of relief.

"Did you honestly think it was going to be bad?"

"I don't have the best experience in this arena," Leah confessed. She had never been demoted, never had a salary cut, but she knew most of her captains weren't her biggest fans. Apparently, she had the tendency to come off too strong, too serious. It had turned people off, even the partners who were supposed to have Leah's back.

"I have no issue with you. If I did, you wouldn't be here," Paul maintained, then, tapping his table, "Oh, right, one last question I have to ask: is there anything you need from me?"

"Jane," Leah provided immediately. At this point in the investigation, the Voldemort couldn't afford to lose a valuable informant because of some technicality.

"Leah—"

"I know it's essentially a crap-shoot, but her words, what she's been telling me, it's serious," Leah explained. "The Volturi's trying to make a comeback."

Paul snorted. "Did they really leave?"

"Paul."

"I have a plan," Paul announced. "Of some sort. It involves us and various law enforcement agencies, including the esteemed Bureau. I just need to iron out the kinks and make sure the superintendent and mayor don't order my head on a silver platter."

Leah blinked. "What are you talking about?" and then, rephrased her question. "What are you trying to do?"

"If everything works out, we may be able to solve this Jane-problem," Paul carried on, brushing side Leah's question. "Give it some time."

"Are you telling me not to worry about Jane?"

"I'm telling you that I'm working on it."