What They Don't Know

Bradley's head felt like it was spinning; in one moment, everything he had ever assumed about his wife had come crashing to its knees. Alesha had always been such a good, caring, selfless person... heck, they probably wouldn't be having so many bill troubles if she hadn't convinced him to donate as much as they could to those less fortunate. She was more giving than anyone else he had ever met.

Why then, had she been possessed to steal? Why, like a squirrel preparing for winter,  had she packed away so many things--things that weren't rightfully theirs? Had this been a recent habit, formed out of boredom or neurosis or who-knows-what, or had she always been like this... had she always lied?

"And if she's lied about this," Bradley murmured to himself, furiously rubbing his head to try and soothe the ache growing there. "What else has she lied about to me?"

There were too many conclusions to jump to, and Brad knew he was doing neither himself nor his wife any favors letting them boil away as he waited for Alesha to come home--but it was already too late. His shock grew to suspicion, and his suspicion to anger; he had trusted her, her alone... and this is what she did?

He was thickly buried in his thoughts when he heard a car pulling into the garage and shut off its engine: she was home.

Alesha had no idea what she was coming home to.

"Oh hey honey, I thought you and Margo would be in the thick of painting, by now!" she erupted as she walked through the front door, a bounce in her step. "Was your mom able to get you the paints.. you..." Alesha froze. Something was clearly wrong. "... Bradley? Are you alright?"

"No, Alesha. I'm not." Though his voice was cold, he didn't start off yelling--but it didn't take long for that to change. "Would you like to explain why there's a very large pile of stuff outside that doesn't happen to be ours?! Stuff that Lilobot saw you carrying into our house herself?!"

A rock sunk into Alesha's stomach. No... No, this couldn't be happening. "B-Brad," she tried to begin. "I can explain--"

"I'm not sure I want to hear your explanation, Alesha! This is... this is beyond explaining! You're--" Brad felt himself pausing on the word, it felt so wrong on the edge of his tongue; and yet, it was true. "--a hypocrite, Alesha. A complete and utter hypocrite."

"No, Brad, I--"

"No? No?! Alesha, ever since you found out about what my father does for a living, you won't let him anywhere near this house! You practically won't even let him see our daughter! You said yourself, you didn't want someone so morally corrupt near our children--which I agree with--and yet here you are, doing the exact same thing?! Do I need to take our daughter away from you, too? By your own freaking standards?!"

That did it--Brad could feel, as the last words left his mouth, that he'd reached the end of the line... and gone several steps past it. Alesha had long since begun to cry, but after he brought up Margo, she'd broken into heaving sobs; as angry as he was, the sight of them finally sent him quiet.

"I... I just... I can't help it, Brad! I didn't want--I didn't want any of it! I certainly didn't want to take it all!"

Brad gave her a 'look'; he was skeptical, and she wasn't making a whole lot of sense. "Then... why did you?"

"Y-y-you don't understand, Brad... E-even I don't understand. We're s-so well off, s-so much better even than most of my friends, but it's  never enough... I've just been s-so afraid of what happened to my parents, los-s-sing everything, and it makes me... it makes me..."

Even though he couldn't fully interpret what Alesha was saying--not that she was even explaining it well to begin with--as she cried, Brad felt a surge of guilt welling up from within him. He understood--this wasn't greed or malice, this was fear leftover from life before him, the life she never talked about. And now he understood why.

And now, he also felt terrible. 'I can't believe I actually thought she... oh, you're so stupid,' Brad thought to himself as he extended a hand to touch her arm, trying to draw her hands away from her tear-streaked face. "Alesha, what I said--I'm sorry... I didn't mean it... I was just, confused."

"N-no, you're right," Alesha continued to bawl, now collapsing into Bradley's arms to cry deeply into his shoulder. "I'm a hypocrite! I've lied and h-hid this from you, and h-haven't tried to fix it b-because I was so ashamed. I d-don't deserve you!"

Bradley scowled. "Alesha, that isn't true and you know it. You made some mistakes, but it's me who should be sorry. You knew I'd react like this--if I weren't so unbending, you might've been able to tell me... It's my fault, okay?"

He felt her nod into his shoulder; Brad knew she probably didn't believe him, but at this point, Brad didn't think it was wise to press the issue any further. She was upset enough as it is.

"You... going to be okay?" he asked, uneasily.

"I'm--" Alesha pulled away, shaking her head with her gaze still averted towards the floor. "I'm going to return it. All of it. I only kept it because I didn't have the courage to give it back--but I should. I need to."

Brad began to nod, but mid-way through he stopped and frowned. "No. No... we're just going to get rid of it. No one else needs to know, okay? I know you want to make it right, but honestly, I don't think anyone else is going to be as understanding. Let's just... try and figure out a way to stop this, okay? Maybe we'll get you to see a counselor or something--okay?"

With a weak smile, Alesha wiped away some of her tears and nodded. "Alright," she agreed half-heartedly. "I guess that would probably be best."

Brad grabbed Alesha'a hands and squeezed tightly, looking into her eyes with the fondest--and most apologetic--of gazes. "Just trust me, okay? I love you--and I love our baby. This isn't something I should've gotten us both stressed over... Especially in your condition. You're perfect the way you are--okay?"

Though she knew he spoke out of guilt, in the end, she did trust him; he did love her, and she loved him... So, with a smile and a nod, she squeezed his hands back and answered, softly... "Okay."

And if there was anyone that could help her through this, it was him.

---

... "... and it's not like it's a totally big deal, but I really don't remember her hogging the covers this much back when we lived in Bridgeport. Maybe she's taking advantage of the fact I've agreed to be her partner now? I don't know, but it just seems awfully--"
... "Amelia."
"--rude of her. Don't get me wrong, I completely adore her, but she's just been so much more lax about things like that lately, and it really is just starting to get on my--"
... "Amelia."
... "What?!"

"I understand that you find this important, but... when I asked you about your feelings for Naomi, I didn't mean about her general habits. I meant specifically about your romantic relationship."

"But... the two are sort of inter-connected, don't you think?"

"In a way, yes, but not quite, Amelia." Dr. de Wynter sighed, his hands raising in defeat. "Look, it seems as if you're open to talk, now, but unless you're willing to take this a bit more seriously, Amelia, I'm afraid we're going to have to call it a day."

"What do you mean? I'm totally taking this seriously!"

At that, Dr. de Wynter just scowled his eyes and cleared his throat. "You've been diverting my questions as much as possible since we've started these sessions, Amelia. It's your sixth visit to see me, and you aren't even sitting in your chair properly. Perhaps if you sat up, we could continue this discussion in a bit more... civilized fashion?"

"Uuugggh, fine," Amelia grumbled, rolling her eyes as she rotated around and dropped her feet to the floor. "If I gotta."

"Look, Amelia," de Wynter began, putting his clipboard on the coffee table as he started to speak to Amelia frankly. "I am here to help you. I'll gladly continue to let you pay me for our little chit-chat sessions, but if you really want to get to the bottom of things, and get better, I suggest you start delving a little deeper into your emotions."

"I dunno, Doc, it's just," Amelia said with a shrug to the wall. "There's not much to say. Naomi makes me happy--she keeps me sane, ya know?"

"Yes, I'm sure she does--but are you sure that that's something she couldn't do as just a friend?"

Amelia paused. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to be blunt with you, Amelia--a lot of women I've encountered in similar situations have briefly 'experimented' with their sexuality to try to escape what they see as the enemy: men. I want you to understand and accept the fact that your feelings for Naomi may simply be feelings of securi--"

"Wait--" Amelia cut him off, abruptly standing from her seat. "Are you tryin' to say that you don't actually think I love her?"

"No, I just--" Dr. de Wynter sighed. "I'm trying to get you to explore whether or not that is the case, but your unwillingness to talk about your partnership with Naomi is leading me to believe that there may be a lack of intimate feelings on your part... And frankly," he continued, realizing that this was the first real moment he'd had to offer Amelia any insight. "If that's the case, I'd wish to advise you to back out of that relationship before you both end up hurt. Do you understand?"

"Of--of course I understand.. You... you... you TWAT!"

"Amelia, please, why don't you sit back down..." Harris stood up from his seat, his hands raised slightly in surrender--he clearly did not want to start this type of confrontation with his patient, but at this point, he'd had little choice.

"No! I will NOT! What you're trying to say is that because I've only been with guys until now, that I can't possibly be in love with a girl! You're sayin' I'm using her!"

"No, Amelia, that's not what I--"

"Yes, it is. And you're a liar--or an idiot. I love Naomi, and no nanny-suckling inverter... inverta... invertibate like you is gonna tell me otherwise!"

"Well... alright then!" Dr. de Wynter said with a bit of a smile. "I guess we've made some progress then! If you'll sit back down, then we can--"

"Nu UH. I ain't doin' no such thing. I am outta here, Mister--and you're fired. Got it? F. I... Erd. Fired."

"Amelia..." Dr. de Wynter grabbed his nose in frustration--she seriously wasn't doing this, was she? "We're only just beginning to touch on your problems and your coping solutions--if you leave now, you're just going to lose all the progress we could have made..."

"Well... I guess I'm just gonna have to handle it on my own then, huh? 'Cause I'd rather stuff a horse pill down my throat then deal with your homophobia!"

"Amelia--"

Unfortunately, Dr. de Wynter was left standing, mouth agape, in the dust of Amelia's wake; not even bothering to close the door behind her, she stormed out into the hall... but as she looked back, a queasy feeling in her stomach began to surface, and her mind began to wander, briefly considering...

What if he's right?

"Amelia."
...
"Amelia."

"Wait--what?" Amelia looked up, then blinked her eyes several times as they came into focus on the gray of Naomi's irises. The surface of the hottub water bubbling around her slowly brought her back to her senses, fading away the last remnants of her daydream.  "Oh. Sorry," she muttered. "Just lost my train of thought, there."

"Something's wrong," Naomi commented, pulling Amelia closer, a concerned look in her eyes. "I can tell. Want to talk to me about it?"

"Yeah, I--" Though she began confidently, Amelia's words cut off as she turned her gaze directly into Naomi's, where her compassion broke down all of Mia's defenses and left her naked, and invulnerable. "Naomi... Can I ask you something?" she asked, her voice weak.

"Anything," Naomi answered, unphased.

"Do you think... that this is real?" Even in the heat of the tub, Amelia could feel herself trembling nervously, mortified of how Naomi might react--but, she knew, she had to know. "That we'll last?"

"Well..." Naomi took a long breath; her gaze fell a little to one side for a moment in thought, before turning back to join with Amelia's. "Do you want it to be real? And do you want it to last?"

Amelia furrowed her brows a little at Naomi's response. "Of course I do," she grumbled. What kind of question was that?

Naomi couldn't help but smile at the goofy, defensive way that Amelia reacted. She really was too cute, sometimes. "Then yeah," she said with a grin and a nod. "I think it will."

As countless emotions welled up inside of Amelia, she opened her mouth to try to utter something poignant and loving in response--but instead, was silenced by the gentle force of Naomi's lips. The swimming pool's lamplight buzzed irratically above them, and the last family's cars pulled noisily from the parking lot, but all that Amelia could hear was the sound of her own heart, beating faster than she swore it'd ever beaten before.

And yet, in the end... all good things still come at a price.

---

Long after the lights at the swimming pool had shut off--so long that even the morning birds were beginning to awaken and stir perkily in their nests--the entirety of Twinbrook rested peacefully in their beds...

... well. Almost everyone.

... "Jeb... Jeb, wake up," Meredith mumbled, one eye cracking open to glare at the blurry man beside her.
... "Nnnngh," he responded, barely stirring.
... "Your phone, Jeb," she insisted, now giving her husband a soft push.
... "Nnnn... Yeah, I got it," Jebidiah finally groaned, heaving a deep breath of frustration at being awoken from his sleep. He didn't take kindly to being interrupted.

Jebidiah could almost hear his bones creaking as he sat upright--and definitely could hear a few cracking as he straightened his back. Getting old didn't come without it's 'benefits', and being constantly reminded of them was not something that made Jeb particularly pleasant in the morning.

However, after a brief glance at the clock--4:30am? fudge buckets--Jeb finally managed to shift his weight onto his aching toes and walked over to his dresser to pick up and answer his phone.

"This had better be important," he grumbled, but fortunately--or unfortunately, depending on your outlook--Jeb was not  disappointed.

"Uh huh... How long ago... How many people know? ... Yes, yes of course. We'll both be there shortly."

Weariness--weariness that made his elderliness seem pale in comparison--flooded Jebidiah's bones as he watched the lights on his cellphone go dim, and his sister-in-law's name vanish from the screen.

He knew something would happen... but this. This, he did not expect.

"Jeb... Jeb, what's wrong?" Meredith grumbled as she pushed herself up, only to see her husband sitting on the corner of the bed, his head bowed.

"I knew she was going to come after me... But I underestimated her, Meredith. I completely underestimated her. And now..." Jebidiah shook his head, his eyes clamping shut from sheer rage.

"Honey... Who was that?" she asked, now worried.

"It was your sister," Jebidiah responded coolly, taking another deep breath in order to keep himself composed.

There was a slight gasp behind him as Meredith pulled herself free of the blankets, almost shivering at the realization that this could mean nothing but the worst of news. "Jeb... What's happened."

"You need to get dressed," was his response, his voice vapid and emotionless. "Someone's broken in to the Bottega... And they left us a message." Breath. "A murder."