InsaneJournal

On the Phone
"You'll forgive me for not being scared."

Days like this made Jill wish she hadn't quit smoking. She remembered how a long drag of nicotine would calm her nerves and give her a momentary reprieve from the daily stresses of her job. Granted, that was a different job, but the longer Jill called the halls of the FBI Chicago Division on West Roosevelt home away from home, the more she realized being an agent was almost as stressful as being a lawyer.

Perhaps more so.

"I know exactly how they operate, Your Honor," she spoke into the black receiver, swiveling back and forth in her black leather chair. "Probably better than you realize. Trust me when I say you're gonna want to protect your grand jury -- mystically."

Jill stopped swiveling. Leaning forward, the agent rest her elbows on the mahogany desk and pinched the bridge of her nose. She didn't blame First District Appellate Court judges for being skeptical; just because the truth was known worldwide now didn't mean everyone accepted it. But if Jill -- and by extension, the rest of the FBI -- was going to crack down on this international human trafficking ring, she needed the courts to take the threat of the defense seriously.

"I can get you in touch with a shaman," she explained. "See if he can make it so the jury can't be tampered with."

Glancing over her notes, which at this point were nothing more than nonsensical scribbles along the margins of her yellow legal pad, Jill shook her head. The more she dug into this case, the less sense it made, and she was glad the suspect wasn't a former client of hers this time. Jill knew Wolfram & Hart would try to use her past employment against her in litigation, but the agent felt like she had a legal leg to stand on, since she never actually represented this particular dirtbag.

Hell, just reading the suspect's name was enough to make Jill shudder.

"They'll come into the courtroom with guns ablazing -- figuratively," she said. "They'll hit every possible angle they can; they'll probably come after you in an attempt to have the case thrown out, if I take the stand, they'll try to use my previous employment against me. They'll attack the case, they'll attack the people working it and they'll try to manipulate every last detail.

"When it comes to Wolfram & Hart, Your Honor, there's nothing they won't do to get off a client."

Jill figured it was only a matter of time before her current job put her on a crash course with her old one; it almost happened once before, when Jill arrested a murder suspect, only to find out he'd been one of her clients in Las Vegas. Chicago FBI director Maureen Sanders did everything she could to keep Jill on that case, but the conflict of interest was so obvious, it was like playing slow-pitch softball with a 'roided-up Sammy Sosa.

It almost felt right, in a way; Jill knew facing Wolfram & Hart in a professional capacity would be good for her. There were a lot of issues left over from those days, and Jill wasn't so naive as to think she could just forget that large and significant portion of her life. She'd done a lot of good in the year and a half she'd spent as a Special Agent with the FBI, and that was something of which to be proud, but Jill knew there was no way she'd ever completely be free of Wolfram & Hart.

If nothing else, the Senior Partners would see to it. Jill read the files on all past employees back then; she knew the drill. Honestly, she was surprised the United States government had managed to keep the firm at bay this long. She wasn't sure what they did when she left to join Project Integration, but it was apparently working. Still, there came a time where Jill had to face something on her own, and this appeared to be that instant.

"You might want to ask the shamans to protect you, as well," she warned. "We can't rule anything out at this point."

Thumbing through a stack of papers to her right, Jill frowned. She'd made no headway on any of the cases she'd been assigned over the past year; Lincoln Park was a virtual standstill, despite the recent developments revolving around the removal of the wall and opening of that section of Chicago to the public. Her investigation into Elfleda and the "attack" on Dr. Forbes' office had surprisingly gone nowhere after the Corruptress left the agent a message. Even the mafia investigation, historically one of Chicago's surefire scandals, was going nowhere -- and now Jill had to deal with this trafficking ring.

Seeing as how this one was actually going to trial, though, hopefully Jill would come out of it better able to tackle the cases she'd been sitting on for what seemed like forever. This was one of the few ways in which being a lawyer was better; once a trial was over, Jill was done with a client and free to move on to other things. Sure, she's juggle more than one client at a time, but things just seemed to drag on longer and blend together more with the FBI.

"We have our own mystics," Jill answered, setting the stack aside. "At this point, the only thing we can do is prepare ourselves and wait. This thing is gonna get messy."

Hanging up the phone, Jill pinched the bridge of her nose once more and heaved a sigh. Running her fingers through her long black hair, the agent flipped open her phone, which had spent the last day on silent because of how busy she'd been. As such, she'd missed three calls. Two of them were nothing terribly important -- numbers she didn't recognize who didn't bother to leave a message -- but the third was one of the last numbers she would've expected to see.

It was her brother.

Calling her voice mail and dialing her passcode, Jill felt her heart pounding as she pressed the phone to her ear.

"Jill," the male voice said with a sigh. He seemed upset he got her voice mail. "It's Brian. Listen, uhh ... I did some thinking, about what you said. You know, the last time we, uhh, talked. So, umm ... I'm in Chicago, managed to get away for a few days. Was wondering if you'd like to get dinner tonight. I think I'm finally ready to hear you out.

"Please call me back, Jill."

Glancing at the clock on her desk, Jill decided. It was after 5, so there was no guilt as the agent grabbed her navy blue blazer, folded it over her free arm and shut down her computer. Hiding her files in the government-issued safe on the floor, Jill pocketed her cell phone and left her office without another moment's hesitation. With all the work she'd done over the last couple weeks, she hadn't taken much time for herself.

What better time than now, with family awaiting her?