Thirty-Nine

"Tonight is the moment of truth, folks," Paul announced on a Friday morning with a wide grin on his face. He was in a good mood. It was justifiable: Sam was now awake. The vast majority of his would-be killers were in police custody and scared shitless of Paul (and the ATF). No one of note had died. Esme was talking, sort of. Sorio was getting his just desserts, and Edward Masen, for the time being, was in federal custody.

Leah almost choked on her breakfast sandwich, surprised by Paul's comment. "Huh?"

Paul chuckled as he patted Leah's back. "The full moon."

Leah placed her food aside.

Right, that was tonight.

She was nervous yet excited. If everything worked out, tonight, a little after midnight, she would turn into a giant wolf. An actual work. Another animal—Goodness, she how it'd feel to be in another form. To think like a wolf, to act like one. How would she behave around the pack, around Jacob? What would happen with the hunts? Maybe she'd catch a stag.

The prospect was mouth-watering.

"Should I be concerned?"

Paul shook his head. "You'll be fine."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't give me much hope."

"Just don't fight it," Paul advised. "You'll be fine. Heck, Jacob's not even worried about it, and he's worried about you all the damn time."

With the pack surrounding her, Leah stood in the middle of the forest cleaning, right under the full, large and bright moon. She had her eyes opened; she leveled her breathing, trying to relax. Like Paul had said: don't fight it. Soon, she could feel her heart-rate speeding up, her hands becoming clammy and her emotions running on high. She suddenly felt a burst of hunger. She was restless. She was—

Leah took a deep breath and held out her arms, ready for… Hell, she didn't know. Something.

But nothing happened.

She blinked a few times.

What the Hell?

Leah dropped her arms and looked at the pack. Each one of the guys had a confusingly surprised look on their faces; they must've all expected to see her on fours. Fuck, so did she. But she was only standing on two feet.

She couldn't believe this shit.

"Why is nothing happening?" she asked, trying not to sound hysterical. She was more confused, more than anything. Annoyed. She had prepared for this day for so long… Paul had been able to phase during his first moon without a hitch. Why couldn't she?

"You're not ready," Jacob told her, sharing all of the guys' sentiment. "It's fine. It happens."

Leah narrowed her eyes at the man.

"You're still one of us," Paul insisted. "You would've been dead a long time ago if you weren't."

The rest of the pack agreed.

"Is there something wrong with me?" Leah asked during the car ride home. The disappointment of Sag Valley was still fresh in her mind. Fuck it, she felt like a goddamn failure. She had the ability to turn into a wolf; there should be no reason why the phase didn't work.

She didn't want a pity party. She hated pity parties; pity parties were the emotional version of a sugar rush: exhilaratingly high in the beginning, only to crash and burn in minutes. What she wanted was an answer—she didn't have much hope in getting wrong. Just the same response she had received the other million times she had asked the man sitting in the driver's seat across from her.

Jacob stole a glance at his partner before merging onto the left lane. "For the last time, Leah. There's nothing wrong with you. You're just not ready," he said, acting like Leah's problem wasn't that big of a deal. It was reassuring yet it annoyed her.

Leah crossed her arms. "But Paul—"

"Paul Lahote isn't Leah Uley," Jacob pointed out, sharp enough for Leah to keep quiet for the time being. "Listen, Quil phased when he was in middle school, and I didn't until I was nineteen—and we were both born with the damn thing. Early-bloomer or late-bloomer, it doesn't make a difference in the end."

He was right. Fuck, Jacob was always right about this shit.

Leah unraveled her arms and sighed. She barely noticed Jacob taking a hand into his. When she looked at him, he gave her an assuring smile and said in a voice so soft it draped over her shoulders like a warm blanket, "Hey, when I bit you, you became a wolf. Nothing's gonna change that." He squeezed her hand. "You're going to be just fine, Leah. I promise. I hope that one day, you realize that, too."

"Whoever invented wine should have an international holiday," Leah declared, pouring her second (or was it third) glass of the night.

"You got that right," Aisha said, saluting with her glass. "Thank you, Oh dear Wine-Creator, for your service and contribution to society everywhere."

Leah grinned.

The detectives were at Aisha's, wasting the night away with Housewives re-run's playing in the background. They were both approaching drunkenness—Aisha with a bottle of Schnapps in her hand, and Leah with a bottle of wolfbane-laced red wine. Both were terrible ideas in a bottle, but the friends didn't care. This would be the first time in months when they didn't have to worry about work-related nonsense until the following Monday (Sam's drama, notwithstanding).

"Tiffany's staying for another year," Aisha announced abruptly; gone was her playful attitude. Her grin dropped, turning into a frown full of despair. "In Afghanistan. You can't make this shit up."

Leah felt for her friend. Having a significant other in the army and inside a warzone was never easy. "You heard from her recently?"

Yeah, I got a letter last week. Parts of it redacted. Nothing much's going on with her." Aisha looked up at her friend. "Why did I decide to date someone in the goddamn military?"

"Because life's a bitch," Leah said. "Everything will work out."

Leah knew her friend wanted to be positive, but she was still shrouded with a layer of pessimism and doubt. Aisha opened her mouth, probably to discuss the less than ideal situation even more, but then shut it.

Leah blinked. "Aisha?"

"Okay, enough with the pity party," Aisha said, pouring herself another glass. She quickly downed it, wincing as the liquid burned her throat. "Let's play a game. Twenty-one questions."

"What are we in, high school?" Leah replied, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She stared at her bottle with admiring eyes and then frowned when she realized it was almost empty. "We are adults."

"Twenty-one questions is an adult game, Detective," Aisha insisted, lifting her glass. "Let's spice it up, yeah?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "No stripping."

Aisha rolled her eyes. "Just because my girlfriend's thousands of miles away doesn't mean I don't know what boundaries or monogamy is."

Leah winked. Tiffany would be so proud.

"Okay, so what's the spice?"

Aisha gave her friend a Cheshire grin. "Nothing's safe."

Leah lifted an eyebrow. "Nothing's safe?"

"Every 'no comment' is a shot of this," Aisha said, pulling out two bottles of Tequila somehow lodged under the couch. Of course, one of them was laced with wolfbane, courtesy of an unsuspecting Quil. "Unless you want to chicken out."

Leah took another swig of her wine, slammed the bottle on the floor. She gave her smirking friend the stink-eye. She wasn't gone enough for this conversation; she was reaching that point, give her another half an hour, but not gone. "Have you forgotten, Miss St. Pierre? I'm Leah-motherfucking-Uley. I don't chicken out of anything."

Which was probably why during the past several months, Leah's life had turned into a supernatural mix of Jerry Springer and Law and Order.

Aisha laughed at her friend's declaration, handing her friend a shot glass. "Didn't think so." She popped opened a fresh set of bottles. "You ready, Detective?"

"I was born ready."

"What's the most daring thing you've ever done?"

"You're being tame, Detective," Leah taunted.

"Answer the question, Detective. Or you get a shot."

"Work or personal?"

"Either one."

"Chased after a vampire during a shootout," Leah replied almost immediately. That had been an idiotic move. "Almost died because of it. My turn: do you like your job?"

Aisha's answer was hesitant. "It keeps me busy."

"That's not an answer."

"It keeps me busy."

"Take a shot."

Leah pouted but eventually accepted her fate. "The best thing about being no longer a human?"

"Stamina," Leah replied. "I can run a marathon without breaking a sweat. And being able to pick up on people's emotions. Though, I'm learning it's a double-edged sword…"

"Worst thing?"

"Uptick in emotional instability and my damn appetite."

"Nothing wrong with eating," Aisha remarked. "Heck, I wish I down food without worrying about gaining weight. Can I have your metabolism? Damn."

Leah cleared her throat. "I'm not only talking about food."

"Oh." Aisha blinked, and then her eyes widened with realization. "Oh." She leaned in. "Really?"

Leah sighed. "It's…frustrating."

The topic was admittedly uncomfortable, but Leah wanted to get it off her chest in the presence of inhibition-reducing alcohol. She couldn't mention it to the guys; that would be weird. And Kim could only provide so much insight for being a human. And she wasn't googling shit.

Aisha was fascinated. "Is that…normal?"

"Apparently, I'm still in shapeshifter-puberty, so yeah," Leah grumbled, pouring herself a shot of tequila to get through this conversation. "I guess I can do something about it, but I don't need another person interfering with my marriage. One affair is enough. And, as you know, there is literally nothing happening between me and my fool of a husband."

"The wand can only do so much."

"You can try dolls, you know," Aisha pointed out with a wide smirk. "I hear it's the new craze."

Leah tossed a bottle cap at her laughing friend. "I need a warm body. A living, breathing person."

"I guess that means vampires are out of the question?"

Leah chuckled. "Yes."

"Vampires aren't that bad," Aisha said. "I mean when they're not making our lives difficult. Then again, I guess we can say that about humans… and other supernatural beings."

"Alright, my turn," Leah declared. "Do you think Sam chose that undercover mission to avoid me?"

Judging on the expression on her face, that was a question Aisha most certainly hadn't expected. "I think it's a combo of things," she eventually admitted. "You know how that man is. He's not great with confrontations of the heart."

Leah frowned. "I just don't understand why he's so surprised about how this shit turned out. I mean, did he honestly think I wouldn't find out? I'm a detective, damn it. It's my job to discover shit."

"He's been messing around with Emily for three years. Maybe he thought he could get away it," Aisha reasoned. "He's like those serial killers, not that I'm calling him one. But you know how it is, at first, they're careful about everything and then when they realized that no one's checking for them, they start to get sloppy—The same thing."

"He's an idiot."

"Most men are."

Leah grinned at that.

"Okay, a lighter question: if you can hook up with anyone from work, without worrying about the other BS, who would it be?"

"For a girl? I mean you're hot, but you're the sister I never had," Aisha pointed out, nearly gagging at the thought of it. "Sorry, but I'm not into incest."

Leah let out a light laugh. "Nice to know. So?"

"Martinez's former partner's pretty cute," Aisha said. "But she's a little on the weird side."

"Understatement."

"Now, for a guy? Definitely gotta be Paul," Aisha said without hesitation. The choice wasn't shocking. Paul was Paul and not Leah's type, but he was far from the vicinity of ugly; the man had an unofficial fan club, which quite surprisingly, the usually haughty captain didn't like to talk about. "Have you seen that man's abs? Have you seen all of your packmates abs? I mean, how is that possible?"

Leah nearly keeled over from laughter.

"So, what about you?"

Leah shook her head. "No comment."

"Shot," Aisha demanded, pointing at Leah's bottle.

Leah didn't argue.

"Oh, come on, Leah, just give me a name," Aisha pleaded. "No judgment. My living room, right here, is a judgment-free space."

"I'm married."

Aisha scoffed. "Yeah, only on paper. And for the record, the question was a hypothetical one."

"I'm not answering it."

"Okay, how about a variation then?"

"Bring it."

"What about Jacob?"

Leah narrowed her eyes. "Oh, fuck you, Aisha."

"Oh, come on," Aisha pressed on, wiggling her eyebrows before breaking into a fit of laughter, "The chemistry between you two is insane. Leah, wouldn't you? Like I said, no judgment. Especially for that. Like I said before, abs."

If Leah were to be honest with herself, the thought had crossed her mind a few times. Several times, and this so-called bond she shared with him being her alpha didn't help matters. But she never pursued it, doubted she ever would—And the reasons had nothing to do with work.

Perhaps, if the circumstances were different, Leah would have taken the chance. He was an attractive man, big and strong. He cared about her welfare, had a good head on his shoulder, and actually listen to her— He would have been everything Leah wanted, but she couldn't see it. Jacob and her? It just wouldn't feel right. He wasn't looking for anyone, and she… she had her own drama with Sam to handle.

It was fine, though. They were partners. They worked well as partners, as friends, as pack mates. Why fuck up a good thing?

Leah poured herself a shot of tequila, game rules, be damned. "No."

"Is Vegas still on?"

Leah took a bite of her sandwich (a Rueben, meaty, and loaded with calories, just what the doctor ordered on this dreary Tuesday afternoon) and set it aside. After wiping her mouth with a napkin, she replied with, "Bad timing."

"Yeah, I figure that."

"Next year," Leah vowed. And she was going to stick to it, damn it. "There's too much shit going on, and I doubt it's going to be over by November."

Jacob, to Leah's disgust, literally inhaled his burger before washing it down with some water. "Most likely not-" he stopped at the sound of his buzzing phone in his pocket. He checked the device, groaning at the sight of it. "God damnit."

"What happened now?"

"Duty calls," Jacob pulled out some cash, refused to take any from his partner, and slapped it on the diner table. "At Cook County."

"What happened?" Jacob would ask roughly an hour later after being greeted by a corrections officer. The warden was supposed to meet with Leah and Jacob (Embry had chosen a great time to visit his family out of state), but he was tied up with meetings.

Leah waited for the corrections officer, a very distressed one, to answer Jacob's question. Admittedly, she was surprised that she and Jacob had been called in the first place. They seldom handled incidents involving the jail; the notorious site usually liked to handle matters in-house.

The officer ran a hand over his bald head. "Inmate suicide."

The detectives shared a look before Leah reminded the other man, "We don't handle those."

"This one, you do," the corrections officer said, leaving no room for argument. He motioned the detectives to follow his lead, and when they reached their destination deep within the jail, he pointed to the holding cell turned crime scene, wrapped in caution tape. All surrounding cells were empty, thank goodness. The prisoners must have been moved after the fact.

Bella was inside the cell, leaning over a body, carefully examining it. From where they were standing, the detectives couldn't get a good look at the poor soul.

"Who is it?" Jacob asked.

The question was more or less bullshit; Leah had a sinking feeling whom the body belonged to, and there was no doubt that Jacob did as well. He had a better handle on detecting people's scents than she did, and he would have definitely picked up on this one.

"I think you should see for yourself," the correctional officer replied.

The detectives nodded and entered the cell single-filed. Bella, exhausted, finally looked up and acknowledged their presence before yawning. "About time you show up."

Jacob stepped in further. "We were in West Ridge—" He stopped, looked down, gave Leah forlorn look, and then back at the body. "You're shitting me."

Bella reached over to the box of gloves and exchanged her soiled ones for new ones. "Oh, how I wish I was…"

Leah went to Jacob's side. The victim was laid on his back, arms and legs spread out. There was a gash starting from the upper part of the left side of the neck, below the angle of the jaw, and stopping on the right side. "Did he have a long-lost twin we didn't know about?"

"Please tell me there is…" Jacob groaned.

"What?" Bella looked between Leah and Jacob and shook her head before asking a CSI team member for a camera. "Not that I know of. You guys, it's him. It's Mike."

Jacob slowly retreated until he slumped onto the bed. He sat down and leaned over, holding his chin in his hand. "I can't believe this shit," he said, voice cracking.

"Do you mind leaving us?" Leah asked the corrections officer, though it was more of a demand than a request. For a brief moment, the corrections officer appeared to want to fight the order, but he must have seen the serious look on Leah's face, for he huffed and did what was told. Once he was gone, Leah asked Bella, "Was this a hit?"

"Suicide. He slit his own throat."

"Are you sure?"

"I can't see Mike letting someone doing so from this angle," Bella said.

"He was going to accept the plea bargain," Jacob said, shaking his head. Astonished. Disappointed. Frustrated and angry—Leah could practically see the emotions rolling off her partner. "He was going to give us information. More information..."

"He probably thought being dead was his best choice," Leah muttered. She, too, couldn't believe this was happening. Their only chance of closing a murder case was in front of them, dead. Mike had died a painful death; she couldn't imagine what had gone through his mind when he allegedly ran the blade across his throat.

"Time of death?"

Bella looked down at Mike. "Nine a.m. The latest, eleven."

"When was he found?"

"Two hours ago."

Leah crossed her arms. Something didn't sound right, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what. Where was the supervision? How did Mike get the blade? She shifted her attention to Jacob, who was still staring at the dead body from his perch on the bench. He was upset, more upset than she had ever seen him. "Well, this blows..."

"Fuck!" Jacob exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. He punched the wall behind him, startling the other occupants of the jail cell, and causing more damage to the painted cinderblock than intended.

The medical examiner dropped her tools and gulped while Leah took a couple of deep breaths, then stood up tall, straightening her suit jacket. Okay. This was something alarmingly new, watching Jacob, huffing, and puffing, steaming with anger. He was always well-tempered; he wasn't one to lash out over some little thing. That was one of the main reasons why people liked working with him. He wasn't the type to punch out a perpetrator out of anger and annoyance; that just wasn't him.

"Jacob," Leah called out, approaching him.

Realizing what he had just done, Jacob slowly took a step back, grabbed at his hair, and groaned. "Fuck. I'm so sorry. I just…I can't—"

Leah could tell he was. Thankfully, none of the corrections officers were close enough to notice. "I understand why you're upset, but no more outbursts, okay? We don't want to attract any more attention..." she softly told her partner. "Also, I think you're going to have to…"

No, Jacob couldn't stay like this, and Leah had to do something. She took a couple of seconds to think of a plan, when one came to mind, she ran a hand down her face and demanded, "Jacob, outside."

Jacob stood up straight. "Leah—"

"Now."

"Punching holes in walls isn't going to solve a goddamn thing," Leah told her partner sternly when they reached a secluded area of the jail. Jacob was still steaming in anger, reminiscent of Paul when he was in those moods, moments away from phasing.

"We just met with Jenks and promised him that everything was going fine!"

"Jacob, the last time we checked, we're not psychic. How on earth were we supposed to know Mike was going to kill himself?" Leah reasoned, reaching out to cup Jacob's face; she needed his undivided attention. "If we had known the man was suicidal, we would have put him under 24-hour supervision. You know that."

"Leah, I—"

"C'mon, Black, you're supposed to be the level-headed one in this partnership. I'm supposed to be the one unleashing hell at every corner," Leah told him, poking him in the chest. "It took me years to get that reputation, and you're not going to let Mike Newton fuck it up."

The situation didn't exactly call for levity, but Leah needed Jacob's heart rate to slow before heading back inside. All she wanted was a smile from him, even a small, nanosecond one — something to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

"Got it?" Leah asked, and almost immediately, she could hear her partner's heart rate slow to normal. His face relaxed; his entire body was slow to recover, but it was nowhere near the state it had been in moments earlier.

"I'm sorry, Leah. I just—" Jacob paused to take a deep breath and gather his words. "I didn't mean to snap like that."

"There's no need to apologize," Leah said. It wasn't her who needed his apology. She was fine, but maybe he should speak to Bella. "Now, what we're going to do is go back there and demand an explanation, starting from the warden. Apparently, the warden is in the middle of a meeting, but we'll get him out of it. Sounds like a plan?"

"Yes."

"And for the record, I'm going to be doing the talking. Do you understand me? I let you question anyone until you calm the hell down."

"I am calm."

"I'm doing the talking."

"Leah—"

"I'm doing the talking."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Thank you."

"I can't say I'm too surprised," Jacob told Leah during the ride from Cook County Jail to Jenks' office. He let out a humorless laugh. "Don't you remember the night Mike got arrested? How did he look? The way he acted and spoke to us? How he wouldn't even let Shapiro do what he was paid to do? He died that night."

"The hole in the wall suggests otherwise," Leah muttered.

Jacob let out a sigh. "Not my finest moment."

"I'm glad you recognized that."

"It's just..."

"I get it," Leah insisted. "But that's not going to happen again."

Jacob shook his head. "Never."

"Every single time we take one step forward, something always forces us to take two steps back. Frankly, I'm getting tired of this." Jenks said, resigned as he poured himself a glass of brandy. It was still the middle of the day; he was still on the clock, but as he had mentioned to his guests earlier, everyone should cut him some slack. He had a terrible day, finding out about Mike before the detectives did. He was the first person the jail called after reaching out to 911. "Tell me, do you think we're cursed?"

Leah exchanged a look with Jacob. "It's Chicago, Counselor," she said.

"It's Chicago," Jacob reiterated with a shrug. He was in a much better mood. Thankfully, the prison warden was convinced that Mike made the damaged (which, according to him, wasn't that bad) during his manic fits—. If the warden wanted to believe it was the dead man's fault, then let him.

"It's Chicago," Jenks muttered, shaking his head. "So, suicide?"

"That's what Bella's ruling it as. The warden swears by her findings as well," Jacob said. "The man slit his own throat."

Both Leah and Jenks grimaced.

"What a way to go," Jenks said, downing half of his drink. "Tell your captain that I'll be stopping by later today to discuss this wonderful turn of events," and then, "Did he give you the Mike case?"

"We're not too sure," Leah admitted. "Everyone's been swamped with work, especially with the whole Sam-episode-"

"Ah, right." Jenks nodded. "Maria's done."

"It's complicated," Jacob said. "Apparently, she knows people in high places."

"Well, I sure hope so. The woman's been alive for centuries. If she hadn't made any connections during those years, she's a fool," Jenks said. "Tell me: Is the Mexican government stepping in for her immunity? Or deportation?"

"Like Jacob said: it's complicated. We're personally handling the ones who actually shot Sam. The ones with no connections to our neighbors south of the border. We're getting ready to give them to you."

Jenks nodded. "What it's looking like, Murder-Two?"

"Murder one," Jacob said. "They got orders and followed them."

"But, you're not handling Maria?" Jenks questioned, puzzled. "I assume she was the one who dished out the orders-"

"Actually, it wasn't her," Leah said. "It was one of her trigger-happy lieutenants who wanted to impress their boss. And anyway, she's already in trouble with feds. Let them deal with her."

"Now, who's done is Victoria," Jacob added. "Thanks to her ill-advised decision to knock off an informant, among other things, she and her crew are getting shipped to Arizona."

Leah glanced at her partner. So, he did know about Arizona. "Is that on record?"

Jacob shook his head. "No. We're technically not allowed to know about that."

"Right..." Jenks nodded. "Back to Mike Newton, so he committed suicide. Obviously, he thought that it would be easier to be dead than face justice, or worse the mob."

"I think it's the latter," Leah offered. "In prison or out, he was in way too deep. He was screwed either way."

Leah didn't expect to see Sam when she arrived home.

He was supposed to be spending time with Allison and Emily. Still, here he was, sitting in front of the television, looking like he had just woken up from a nap— According to the doctor's, he was healthy enough not to reside in a hospital room, but not well enough to return to work. At least, not yet. Give it a couple of months of rest and physical therapy.

She already felt the impending headache. She had a terrible day; she wasn't in the mood to deal with her husband but didn't have the heart to kick him out. She was hoping that Allison would stop by; her mother-in-law vowed not to let her son sleep, home alone, and with Leah's schedule being her schedule, Allison would stay the night.

She needed Allison tonight. She needed her mother-in-law to be the buffer.

But thankfully, Sam didn't appear like he was in the mood for a fight. He hadn't been since he had woken up from a coma—That worked out wonderfully.

"How's your mom?" Leah asked, removing her jacket and tossing it to the side. It was nine in the evening; all she wanted to do was take a shower and sleep (preferably with Sam remaining on the couch).

"She's picking me up in a few," Sam replied.

"And Emily?"

"Haven't spoken to her today," Sam said in a flat voice. His attention was still on the television until it was not. He looked up at his wife, tilting his head with bewilderment written all over his face. "Noticed some steaks and ground beef in the fridge. You're no longer a pescatarian?"

Leah glanced at the kitchen. "I guess not," she said with a shrug. She wasn't ready for that conversation; she didn't know if she would ever be. She kicked off her shoes and headed towards the bedroom. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Leah."