Fifteen

"Good morning, everyone. Now, before I begin, I just want to say that I hope you all have a lifetime supply of extra-caffeinated coffee for the next several months because you're going to need it. And maybe some hard liquor."

The room was filled with laughter.

Some genuine, some nervous.

It was Monday morning, two weeks after Leah's trip to Washington and almost three months since the Chicago Dahlia investigation began. Usually, at this time, Leah would be roaming around Chicago with Jacob, following leads, squeezing information out of Riley and Mike, somehow figuring how to arrest Edward and Esme while lifting the injunction and such. But now, she was standing in the middle of Paul's station, leaning against the desks with an extremely, but needed, hot cup of coffee in his hand. She wasn't the only one present; Jacob was right next to her. Aisha was sitting several feet away, and Paul, standing in the middle of the open office space, commanded all attention from the dozen or so people surrounding him. Some Leah recognized, some she didn't.

Leah's captain finally relented to Paul—he had told her and Jacob such late this past Friday. He had mentioned that both detectives could decline the offer, but neither had.

Leah glanced to the left and froze mid-sip. There was Sam, leaning against a column with a red bull in his hand. He didn't seem to notice her. She let out a breath quickly returned her attention to Paul. Right. Paul had mentioned about Sam being involved, but he didn't tell in what capacity. Then again, she had no idea what the hell was going on or why she was even here in the first place.

She glanced down at her coffee and took another sip.

"I am sure you've all heard some rumblings about a new task force being created in response to the increasing activity involve specific criminal organizations," Paul carried on, removing all humor from his voice. "Well, I'm here to say that the rumors are true. You are all here because you've been specifically chosen to partake in this new mission. Voluntary mission," he stressed. "I'm going to be frank with you, if you have any obligations, particularly family-related, you may want to take some time saying yes."

"I also want to preface by saying that the moment I finish this sentence, everyone said after will be considered classified information. If you have any issue with this, then I highly suggest you leave right now. Because I assure you the ramifications of leaking anything will be considered as not a violation of this city's security, but also national security…"

That caught Leah's attention. She would never consider doing such a thing (maybe it was her paranoia speaking), but she was just a homicide detective. She never had to handle "classified information". What was she—

She stole a glimpse of Jacob. He was still next to her, arms-crossed so tightly that she could trace out his bicep muscles under his button-down shirt. His face was impassive; his eyes remained on the captain. He was tensed, and Leah didn't know how she felt about it.

As a matter of fact, everyone around her was tense. She suddenly felt out of place, standing around SWAT guys, special operations guys, and military guys.

"Now, do I make myself clear?" Paul asked, and after everyone nodded in stunned silence, he gave a half-smile. "Good. My preface is something that shouldn't be much of a surprise: we're here; we've made an oath to protect and serve. And that's what we plan to do. Remember that because things may get a bit ugly. It's part of the job. It's part of being in this unit, which technically doesn't exist…"

Some chuckled.

Leah did often wonder about this unit. It didn't exist, at least, not on paper. But people knew about it: the superintendent, the mayor, maybe the governor. The FBI certainly did.

She took another sip.

"This is the last call for any naysayers," Paul announced. He seemed pleasantly surprised that no one moved. "So, about this mission, its purpose is quite simple, actually: we are going to bring down Volturi. Or at least, give them so much Hell that they'll forget about the Midwest and head back to Volterra. And we're going to do this by interrupting their main supply, starting with seizing this—" He dug into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag, holding it up high.

Leah's eyes widened.

So, did everyone else's save for Jacob's.

"Everyone in the room should know what this is: a .22 Caliber Lucerna, more commonly known as an 'Ultra-violet' or 'UV.' A bullet literally containing ultra-violet light. The moment it makes contact, light flows out of it. Think of it as a tranquilizer that can fit into your standard-issue pistol," Paul explained. "This bullet, right here, is the root out of all of the drama. Ultra-violets are considered to be one of the most valued commodities in the black market. Even more than Grade A human blood."

Leah finished her coffee and tossed it into the garbage bin. These ultra-violets were proven to be a nuisance, though she couldn't understand why the ATF wasn't solely handling it.

"So, why do we care?" Paul placed the bag on the table and began to walk around. "Because about a couple of months ago, a young college student by the name of Jessica Stanley was found gutted to death at LaPush; she was associated with the Olympic organization. A couple of weeks ago, the bodies of Sasha and Vasili Denali were found with an ultra-violet in each of their heads. A couple of weeks back, Demetri of the Volturi was found with an ultra-violet in his head and throat. And now, thanks to our friends at the ATF, we now know that the distributor comes from Transylvania, and its primary buyer is the Velasquez Cartel… and I'm sure you all know the leader of that headache."

"Maria..." Leah breathed. Maria was one of the Olympic's allies, the Cullen's, to be more specific. Apparently, they had been business partners since the nineteenth century. From what Leah could remember, the Velasquez cartel wasn't in the business of selling drugs. No, they were big on arms and human blood.

"Yep," Jacob quietly confirmed.

"And just last week, sixteen corpses were discovered in an abandoned warehouse up north," Paul carried on. "All associates of various criminal organizations including the James Gang— as you can tell, this is a big deal. And because this is a big deal, we will be working side-by-side with the feds."

"Are you absorbing the Dahlia case?" Leah asked, leaning against the brick wall of the precinct. It had been ten minutes after Paul's speech and a couple after the detectives had pulled the captain aside before any other cop could get a hold of him with their questions.

"Are you absorbing the Dahlia case?" Leah asked, leaning against the back wall of Paul's office. It had been ten minutes after Paul's speech and a couple after the detectives had pulled the captain aside before any other cop could get a hold of him with their questions.

"Got no other choice," Paul said. "Why do you think I've been so adamant about you two tagging along? The one thing that's connecting all of these cases is that damn bullet. Didn't your girl deal with them?"

"We have reasons to believe so," Jacob said. "And the Velasquez cartel is friendly with the Olympic coven, which includes the Cullen's…"

"That Jessica allegedly worked for," Paul added. "I have reasons to believe that Maria's people introduced those bullets to them, and somehow the others got a hand on it."

"Shit."

"Any progress on the injunction?" Paul asked.

"Not really," Leah admitted. "Jenks is trying to pull some strings, but Sorio's a stubborn bastard. He isn't going to budge come hell or high water."

"And that's what is going to get that man in trouble," Paul said. "The feds are already looking into him. That injunction-move hasn't helped his case. He'll get what's coming to him eventually."

This mission. This new task force, Leah knew it was truly about, what it truly involved, and she didn't know if she could handle it. She was still reeling over the Dahlia case and the slaughterhouse crime scene. She was still learning about the supernatural and the intricacies of the notorious Deal—she didn't think she was what Paul needed.

It wouldn't be her first time being assigned to a task force, but it had been years since she had been assigned to a specialized mission. Years ago, back in the Special Victim's Unit. Where she eventually had to transfer out of it because she couldn't stomach working on those heinous child and sex crimes for the rest of her career. The mission had been successful— two of the assailants, dead. Ten children rescued, but it had resulted in Leah nearly having a breakdown.

Her captain might have told her she had done a fantastic job, but to this day, Leah was convinced that he had only said that out of "kindness". She often wondered about that, whether he had been honest or not. Not that it mattered now. He was dead, had been dead for quite some time—a small plane crash into Lake Michigan.

Leah's doubts, her hesitation, and her self-consciousness made her second-guess everything, held her back. It's your biggest weakness, Sam had told her far too many times. Leah supposed he was right, but what he and Paul and her former captain had to understand was that she was simply a homicide detective. Not a member of a goddamn SWAT team. If she wanted all of this action, she would have transferred to the gang or drug units years ago.

Leah shook her head as she bee-lined across the open office space and towards Paul's office. She was going to back out of the mission, she decided, ignoring some of the curious glances from each cop she passed.

Jacob, thankfully, was too engrossed in his conversation with Jared, Embry, and Aisha to notice her. She prayed he wouldn't pick up her intentions somehow; she didn't need him or anyone else to talk her out of leaving.

She had a plan, and she was going to stick to it whether or not—

Leah's train of thought stopped along with her movement. She stood in place, trying her best not to glance to her right where Sam was leaning against a column, engaging in a poorly-hushed conversation with another cop. UC was what Leah had heard.

"UC" stood for undercover.

"One more week," Sam was saying. He seemed relaxed, yet worried— a strange expression that worked. "And then, I start."

"For how long, again?"

"If everything works out, three months tops."

Leah shut her eyes and took a deep breath before going on her way. She had to remain calm, sure that she wouldn't march up to her husband and make a scene. Undercover? Sam hadn't mentioned anything to her about going undercover.

She eventually caught up to Paul as he was about to leave. It was approaching lunchtime, which the captain (as well as Jacob) took very seriously. She could tell that he wanted to postpone this meeting, but then he took another look at her, sighed, and turned back around, tossing his jacket to the side. After motioning Leah to get in a chair, he sat down himself and waved away all apologies from the detective.

She didn't know how to begin. Maybe she couldn't remember; she distinctly recalled practicing her words during her belief walk from one side to the other. Maybe it was Sam's revelation that made her lose her step—She peered through the large door window to find her husband chatting away. She diverted her attention when his eyes accidentally met with his.

She didn't want to think of what Sam's gaze conveyed.

"I won't be long," Leah said. "I'd like to thank you for inviting me to join this task force, but after some deliberation, I don't think this mission is for me."

Paul's gaze remained steady as he leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his pointer finger and thumb. "And why not?"

"From what you've said: this is a special ops mission—"

"And?"

"I don't do special ops missions."

"Because you've never done one before?" Paul asked. "Or because you don't want to?"

Leah's eyes dropped to the carpeted floor. "I don't think I am the right person for this."

Paul made a noise and sat up. He folded his hands on his desk and said, "Leah, you wouldn't be here if I didn't think you can handle it."

"And what makes you think that I can?" Leah challenged. In the back of her mind, she knew she would probably be able to "handle it." She had been "handling it" for the past couple of months.

"And what makes you think that you're aren't?"

Leah let out a frustrated sigh. "It's just that…" She trailed off when she glanced out through the office window. Sam was still there, still talking. And she decided to switch to another topic. "I was told that Sam is going UC. Is that true?"

Paul blinked. "He didn't tell you?"

"I heard it through the grapevine."

"Huh, I thought he would—Yeah, I put him on. He knows how they operate. This isn't his first rodeo, and I needed someone who wouldn't shit in their pants the moment they laid eyes on a vampire or any other supernatural being, for that matter."

"He's human," Leah pointed out. "What if—"

"He volunteered."

And her husband didn't tell her.

This revelation admittedly hurt Leah. Going undercover was never an easy feat. He could have told her something, even if it was only the partial truth—she would be able to take it; she knew how vital secrecy was to these missions. She wouldn't demand much from him, only that he came out of the mission alive and in one piece.

For once in her life, in her marriage, she wanted Sam to be honest with her. To talk to her. In her humble opinion, she was easy to talk to. She was never one to judge, always willing to listen to other people's words and problems. Look at Jacob—since becoming partners, he had practically spilled his entire heart out to her. But her husband wouldn't tell her a damn thing…

She wondered if Emily knew—she mentally shook her head. No, Sam wouldn't be that stupid. Emily couldn't hold a secret if her life depended on it (except for romantic affairs, apparently).

Leah tried not to convey hurt; after a few attempts, she just gave up. She was sure Paul had noticed, but thankfully, the captain never mentioned it. "Did he tell you why he wanted to volunteer?" she asked calmly.

It was a rhetorical question. Of course, Sam had told Paul. The man practically told Paul everything. And she wasn't too upset about it, upset with Paul. She never wanted to be in the captain's position, stuck between two friends. Both of which he was extremely loyal to; it was just too much pressure.

Paul glanced up at the detective. He didn't want to talk about it, Leah knew it, but he probably figured it was just best to be honest. "Look, Leah, I'm not saying this because of my job. I'm staying this as a friend. And I know this ain't gonna mean shit to you." He sighed. "But Sam... Sam's a good guy. He just makes really stupid decisions when he's, you know, put in the corner," and then before Leah lashed out on him. "Now, I'm not blaming you for anything. I mean, what he did; that was fucked up—"

"What are you trying to say?" Leah challenged, eyeing the captain.

"He said it would be best to have some space," Paul said.

Leah cleared her throat. The captain hadn't mentioned her, but he honestly didn't have to. She didn't get it, what space did he need from her? They hadn't shared the same bed in a couple of months. Hell, they hadn't even shared the same apartment. "Did he mention me?"

"He didn't have to," Paul said. "Look, I ain't a marriage counselor, but maybe some separation may do you both some good. I couldn't say no to his request, which, stemming from our earlier conversation, is why I promise you, you're not going to do anything covert-related. Besides the fact that I know your personal feelings about it, having both spouses doing UC work is too... complicated."

"We're getting a divorce."

"Divorces in this state don't happen overnight," Paul contested with a stubborn glint in his eye. "You're still his wife, and the higher-ups will have my ass if I put you both on UC."

"Paul—"

Paul leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk. "Why don't you just try it out?" He suggested. "See how it goes. If you like it, stay. And if you don't, go. I won't hold it against you, I promise."

"Let me mull over it?"

"You got until the end of the day."

Leah told Jacob about an hour later.

They were both leaning against Jacob's car, facing the station building while eating their lunch. Just simple sandwiches—a meat monstrosity for Jacob. A tuna fish for Leah; it was extremely windy outside, but neither detective cared. For once, the sun was out.

Jacob seemed extremely surprised by the news (and a bit disappointed, though Leah knew he wouldn't express this in front of her face). "Are you worried about fucking up?"

"It's not that… it's just." Leah's shoulders dropped as she let out a defeated sigh, staring down at her sandwich. Suddenly, she didn't know why she was feeling. "I don't know…"

"From what I've been told, not much is going to change in terms of your jobs," Jacob told his partner. "I mean, yes, we're going to have another supervisor, but it's not permanent, and it's Paul. He won't fuck us over."

Leah knew Jacob was right, but, "You're not worried about this?"

"Not more than I usually am," Jacob replied with a nonchalant shrug. "This job is inherently dangerous. It is what it is. Our focus is the Dahlia case; it always has been, and that's what we're gonna do."

"What if that changes?" Leah asked, reaching behind her to retrieve the iced tea off the hood of the car. "We're not even working together."

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal, the decision to split up. They had only been partners for not even three months. Leah had done many assignments on her own either literally or figuratively (usually after butting heads with uncompromising partners), but for some reason, the thought of working with someone either than Jacob… it was just… she didn't know how to explain it.

It wasn't something she looked forward to.

Not that she would tell anyone that. Not even Paul, who was even more open to her requests than her own, usually compromising captain at Violent Crimes—it was just. She didn't know. Weird.

Maybe it was because of who they were after the supernatural. Mostly vampires, but also actual werewolves and the occasional shapeshifter. She hadn't mind dealing with them daily because she knew… She knew Jacob would be able to handle all of them. From Alistair to Riley to that time when he had shot at the warehouse. To see the work done by the Children of the Moon at the slaughterhouse. When he was there, when he had been there, Leah hadn't feared for her life—

She snorted. This was some bullshit. The level of co-dependency was some bullshit. He would probably laugh at her face if she told them this—No, he wouldn't. And damn it, that was the problem. And it wasn't co-dependence or some foolishness like, she decided, it wasn't her fault she hadn't known about the existence of the supernatural until two months ago.

Goodness, she felt like a fucking coward.

"We're working towards the same goal," Jacob reminded Leah, watching her intently.

"But it's like… Paul's unit doesn't exist, and there's a reason for that," Leah quietly said. "It's like some under the table shit is going on, and I don't think I can handle it."

"Did you tell Paul this?"

"He insisted I'd be fine."

"Look, I know Paul's Paul, but he ain't dumb," Jacob said. "He wouldn't even entertain the idea of inviting you to this taskforce if he didn't think you could handle it."

"Oh, come on, did you not see those guys in there?"

"Have you looked at yourself?"

Leah tried not to falter under her partner's gaze. Instead, she took a bite out of her sandwich and washed it down with her iced tea. "Yeah, but…"

Jacob sighed loudly before crumbling his lunch's wrapping paper into a ball and tossing it into the garbage a few feet away from the car. "So, what is this really about?"

"What?"

"What is this really about?"

She stared at Jacob. He stared at her back, waiting. He wasn't going to let her not answer the question. He was persistent like that, always looking at her like he could read her mind; she was starting not to like that quality about him. She wished he could just let things go. But then again, she had been the one to mention her decision to drop out of the task force.

"I'm tired of changing partners on a whim," Leah admitted without much thought. She figured if she had allowed her mind to wander, she would have come up with a bullshit excuse that would leave both her and Jacob frustrated. "And Sam—" and then Leah immediately cursed because she couldn't be thinking of Sam and his fucking welfare; he had hurt her. "It's just that…"

"What happened to Sam?"

"He's going undercover."

"Ah," Jacob said, nodding. His response wasn't much in the literal sense, but that "ah" sounded like Leah's simple statement had just answered all of his questions. He took a gulp of his Red Bull and replied, "That explains why you've put on desk duty…"

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Non-action duty, then?"

"Yeah, I guess," Leah muttered. "I gotta think of something. A part of me wants to do this because I know, maybe, perhaps it would make a difference down the line. But…" she sighed. "Paul gave me until the end of the day. What do you think I should do?"

"It's not my decision to make."

"I didn't make a decision for me," Leah argued. What she needed to hear was something concrete. She was just tired of overthinking everything. "I asked for your opinion."

"Leah…"

Leah raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

"You're about worried being alone again, right? Working with people you've never worked with. People who, for some reason, don't think much of it—which is bullshit by the way." Jacob gave her a pointed look, just in case Leah wanted to contest anything he had just said. Thankfully she remained quiet. He continued, "So, how about a compromise? You stay on board and work with Embry and me."

"But Paul said—"

"Fuck what he said."

"So, you've heard the news about Sam, huh?"

Leah slowly nodded as she accepted her coffee from Aisha. They were outside of a Starbucks in Rogers Park, sitting out in the sitting area during the early evening hours. There was the only one there that afternoon, save for an elderly couple playing chess on the other side; they weren't paying the detectives any mind. "I assume you knew as well?"

"Paul told me," Aisha said. "I'm his point of contact. I would've told you, but I thought Sam would at least—"

"Yeah, I thought so, too," Leah whispered, taking a sip of her coffee. "Oh, and thanks for the coffee."

"No problem. Like our fearless leader said: we all gonna need some caffeine until the end of the year, at least."

"You think this is going to last this long?"

"At the rate this mess is going, we'd be lucky if this ends by Christmas time," Aisha said, forlorn but not surprised. She must have been briefed about the task force weeks ago. "I heard from Paul that you're thinking about dropping out."

"I did."

"And?"

"My asshole of a partner could be very persuasive when he wants to be."

Aisha let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah, that's Jacob for you. So, you're staying on board?"

"I gotta tell Paul by the end of the day. Actually, in a couple of hours," Leah said, glancing out the busy street that was Sheridan Ave. She could see many college students walking out of the Loyola campus... Goodness, they looked so young. Like babies. She then returned her attention to her friend. "I guess I'm staying on board."

"What was your hesitation?" Aisha asked, and then, "Oh. You're thinking about that..."

Leah didn't bother denying it. "That mission messed me up. I'm tired of switching partners…"

"That mission messed everyone up," Aisha reminded her friend. "If it gives you any consolation, I'm pretty sure we won't have to deal with kids this time around."

"Bree was only sixteen," Leah muttered. "And the Denali baby?"

Aisha cleared her throat before taking a drink. "Okay, you got me there. But... at least, they were vampires?"

"They were still kids."

"Yeah, you're right." Aisha let out a sigh. "You didn't see anyone after that? We were all recommended to see a therapist."

Leah snorted. She had been right. Her captain had offered the suggestion, but Leah had been convinced that she would be fine. She hadn't needed to spill her guts and feelings to someone who was getting paid to not at every thought or shit. "I should've," she quietly admitted.

"Yeah, you should have," Aisha said, taking another sip. Her body language told the detective that she wasn't getting judged, just told the truth. Leah had always liked that about Aisha.

"You did?"

"Every Thursday for three months."

"And?"

"The best decision I've made in a while," Aisha declared. "I know it's not the sexiest thing to do. After all, we're cops. We should be able to handle anything that's thrown our way, but there's something about seeing kids get hurt that always make me hate the world."

"At least we know you're not a psychopath," Leah said with a small smile.

Aisha let out a chuckle. "That's a good thing." She nodded. "And the same to you."

"Thanks."

Silence fell between the friends.

"Sam will be fine," Aisha assured her friend sometime later. Leah hadn't brought the subject on her husband up in a bit, but Aisha knew her friend was worried. "Talk to him about it, will you? I know speaking to him has been like speaking to a brick wall lately, but I'm sure he'll explain to you why he kept this mission from you."

"You want her to work with you?

Jacob sat up in his seat and straightened up his suit jacket. It was around 7:00 pm, past the end of the detective's shift. But they could claim some overtime if their captain threw a fit about it; after all, their work was related to work. "Of course," he said, locking eyes with Paul. "She's my partner."

"You're kidding."

Leah looked between Jacob and Paul and raised an eyebrow. "I don't see the big deal—"

"C'mon, Paul, she'll be fine," Jacob insisted. "If the events from the past couple of weeks hadn't scared her away, what makes you think she'll be scared now?"

Leah waited for Paul's response. Paul had told her the same thing, which was why she was a bit confused about the captain's reluctance. She didn't know what Jacob (and Embry) was assigned it, but she had a feeling it wasn't "desk duty". It wasn't what Paul had initially wanted her to do, which was following a bunch of leads— a low impact job.

Paul gave the detective an exasperated look. "Jacob…"

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," Leah insisted.

Paul blinked, taken aback. "But you said you didn't want to—"

"You said I could mull it over," Leah pointed out, glancing at her partner. She caught his small smile. "I did, and I changed my mind."

"She changed her mind," Jacob reinforced with a nonchalant shrug.

"Do you even know what they're doing?" Paul asked Leah.

"No..."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "It's surveillance, Paul, not a raid."

Leah blinked. That was what Paul was hesitant about? Surveillance. She knew surveillance; she couldn't even count how many times she had done surveillance. Everyone did surveillance, and she couldn't understand why Paul had made it seem that it was something special. "On whom?"

"The Volturi," Paul said. "And Victoria and Maria."

"Oh," Leah said. "Should we be concerned?"

"They don't just like us," Jacob said flippantly. "And they're known for being hostile to us. Unlike the Cullen's."

"Unlike the Cullen's," Paul grumbled.

"So why Jacob and Embry?" Leah asked. "Out of everyone else?"

"Because they..."

Paul jumped in. "Long story short: there's kinda an understanding between vampires, and well..."

"Werewolves," Leah finished.

"Shapeshifters," Jacob corrected.

"Right," Leah muttered, and then in a clearer voice, "Wait, Paul, are you concerned because I'm just a human?"

Jacob made a sound.

Paul rolled his eyes and brushed off Leah's accusation. "Don't say it like that..."

"So, it's true," Leah argued.

"Look…" It was evident that Paul didn't want to expand on that conversation. Instead, he rolled his eyes once again, sat up in his seat once again, folded his hands on the desk, and sighed once again. "Jacob, if she gets killed, your ass is done."

"Understood," Jacob said, stealing a glance at his partner who was still not entirely sure what was going on. "I won't let anything happen to her."

Leah confronted her husband the following night when he finally returned from work and entered their apartment. He wouldn't be there for very long, only picking some things before he left for the night—it was an arrangement the couple set up about a week back, and it seemed to be working. Leah didn't want to ask, but she was pretty sure Sam was staying at Emily's.

"So, when were you going to tell me about your undercover assignment?" Leah asked, leaning against her bedroom door frame, watching her husband with her arms crossed. He was packing for a few days, it seemed.

Sam zipped up his duffle bag and looked up, startled. "How did you—"

"Paul told me," Leah said. "Well?"

Sam slung the bag over his shoulder and ran a hand over his short hair. His attention fell on his wife, honestly apologetic. An expression Leah hadn't seen on his face in a very long time. "I didn't think you'd want to know."

Leah blinked at her husband. "UC assignments are serious business," she said. "Of course, I'd want to know." She loosened her stance. "When do you start?"

"Next week."

Leah sighed, dropping her gaze. "So soon?"

"UC doesn't wait for anyone—"

Leah looked up. "Does Emily know?"

"Emily isn't my wife."

Leah fucking knew that. She wanted to scream that she knew that despite what Emily wanted... what she most likely dreamed of. Leah was still his wife— She shook her head. "But she's your girl," she said; it made her sick to say it, to verbally admit that Sam was now Emily's, and Emily was now Sam's. "You should tell her so she wouldn't get worried." She cleared her throat. "For how long?"

"Emily isn't—" Sam stopped and let out a frustrated groan. "Three months, at the least."

"Is this a part of Paul's plan?"

"Taskforce," Sam corrected, and then, "Yes."

"And you're okay with this?"

"It's not like I have any other choice. I volunteered, and now I have to keep my word," Sam grumbled. "Are you?"

Leah honestly didn't know. With Sam being gone, she actually might have some peace to herself. But then again, she wouldn't. Undercover missions were dangerous; people had died. And as much as she hated the man in front of her, she didn't want him to die on the job. She cleared her throat, "I'm fine, but you should check on Emily."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because she's carrying your child," Leah reminded him, slowly, carefully. She wanted Sam to know that his frustration shouldn't be directed at her. That it was his fault that his wife had to speak about Emily. If he didn't want this to happen, he should have abided by his vows.

Was she bitter? She had every right to be. UC mission was a sensitive topic, that why it was called "undercover." A candidate wasn't supposed to talk about it, especially to people outside of the workplace. This conversation was supposed to be between Sam and Leah because Leah was his wife; she had every right to know why her husband planned to go dark for the next few months.

Not his mistress.

He called her later that night.

Leah considered ignoring the ringtone. She wanted to crush her ears with the sides of her pillow and go back to sleep. But the ringing wouldn't stop. The ringing wouldn't stop. Groaning, Leah rose from her couch and glanced at the cable box under the television, displaying the time in bright red numbers—1:42 am.

You've got to be kidding me…

She had two options: silence her phone or just pick it up. She figured it must be a serious call.

Everyone knew Leah didn't take late-night calls unless there was an emergency.

She checked the caller ID and cursed.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Leah spent the next second or two seriously debating whether or not she could pick it up or passive-aggressively tell her husband to burn in Hell.

"Someone better be dying."

"I did..." Sam breathed out.

Leah blinked a couple of times, suddenly awake by Sam's alarming yet confusing words. "What?"

"I was on the mission... sometime in the summer. I know it was the summer, but it had just rained, and I couldn't help but think about how fucking humid it was. I had to have been in the Northside because I could see planes coming in from over the lake to land...It was night, in an alley, and a group of guys surrounded me. I had my piece on the side, but I couldn't bring any of them done, and then I got hit from the back. I fell and... all I heard was Volturi, Olympic, war... and that was it."

"You had a dream..." Leah quietly repeated. She was a bit taken aback; Sam had never been the one to talk about his dreams or nightmares.

"A nightmare."

Whatever this was, it must be eating him alive, and although she hated to admit it, she felt for the felt. Damn it. He didn't deserve his sympathy. If he wanted someone to talk to or comfort him, then he should have gone to Emily...

But she continued to stay on the line because deep inside, she knew she still cared for her husband. There had to be a reason why he called her, and she didn't want him to do anything he would regret because of a nightmare because he hadn't been able to speak to anyone. Because his wife ignored him.

She hated the hold the man still had on her.

"It felt so real."

Leah closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. Wow, that nightmare must have shaken Sam to the core. But it most likely didn't mean anything. She had dreams like this. Dreams of getting shot. Dreams of getting killed by an assailant. Plane crashes. Car crashes. Losing her job over some bullshit technicality. Making mistakes on the job. Making mistakes in her private life—but she was still alive and well. Those nightmares had come to mind because she had just been subconsciously thinking about them. It happened to everyone.

"You'll be fine," Leah promised. "It's just a horrible nightmare. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"C'mon Sam, this isn't your first time going undercover. You've done drug rings, for heaven's sake. You'll be fine just like before," Leah said. "But if you're so pessimistic, why did you take up on the offer?"

Paul hadn't asked him outright. Sam had volunteered.

"Because I was just going my job," Sam said, sounding a little defensive. "And I know more about those groups than most of the people on the task force." He sighed. "I know this isn't my first time..."

Sam accepted the assignment.

Leah wasn't surprised. Sam always had a hard time saying, "No." Whether it involved work or women, who weren't his wife.