Chapter Text
Walking into her hotel room, Brenda slumped against the door and sighed.It was a mess, nothing like the house she had shared with Fritz, but she thought the house would probably look the same if Fritz weren’t there to pick up all of her mess. She moved further into the room and managed to trip over a pair of heels. Growling, she picked them up and threw them to the other side of the room.
God, she hated her life. From the lawsuit to Pope and Delk throwing her under the bus, then Delk's death, and Fritz walking out of their marriage a few weeks ago because he couldn’t take it anymore. She huffed, it wasn't like he didn’t know what he had gotten himself into when he married her. And that woman!
That woman who had stormed into Brenda’s life, just like she had stormed into her crime scene, and had lodged herself so deep into it, that Brenda knew with all her heart that she would completely fall apart if that woman decided that she was done with Brenda’s bullshit, that she was done with being treated like a piece of gum on the sidewalk by the rest of the major crimes division.
That woman, who spoke with that annoyingly sweet voice of hers.
That woman who had the most beautiful green eyes Brenda had ever seen. And legs, Brenda couldn’t forget the legs that seemed to go on for miles and miles.
That woman, who was ready to fight everyone and their mother to make sure Brenda wouldn’t go down with the lawsuit.
That woman, who had fought Pope, Taylor, and half of the DA’s office, had found a lawyer to help out Brenda and was doing everything possible to make sure Brenda’s career and Brenda herself would be ok.
That woman, who had never, not once asked for a thank you.
That woman, who had never received a thank you from Brenda or anyone in the LAPD for what she did every day.
That woman, who must think Brenda was the most ridiculous creator on this Earth.
That woman , Sharon Raydor, for whom Brenda had fallen for.
Shit!
Brenda had it bad for her Captain Sharon.
Waking up when the sun was already filtering through the bedroom windows, Sharon groaned and rolled over in bed.
Sighing, she sat up and ran her hands over her face. She definitely wasn’t a morning person.
Blinked a few times she looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table, and shot up from the bed when she realized she was going to be late for her first meeting if she didn’t get up in the next couple of minutes.
Less than half an hour later she was in the kitchen. Her blazer was thrown over one of her chairs, her purse on top of the counter, and her beige high heels on the floor next to her briefcase.
Taking one last sip from her coffee, she opened the dishwasher, her mug halfway there when she realized it was still full of clean dishes. With a raised eyebrow she looked around and for the first time in a few long weeks saw how much she had neglected her living space since she started spending more time with the Major Crimes division.
Before she could start thinking thoughts that would end with her in jail, her doorbell rang. The sound was quickly followed by a sharp knock. “Just a minute!” She shouted, quickly slipping on her shoes.
Leaving her blazer on the chair she walked to the door and opened it, eager to get rid of whoever was on the other side of the door so she could get to her meeting as soon as possible.
Her eagerness turned out to be her biggest disadvantage, as she didn’t see the man in front of her in time to stop his fist from connecting with her jaw. Stumbling back, one of her hands shot up to her face while the other moved behind her and landed on the table she had in the hall, thankfully stopping her from falling.
“Surprised to see me?” the man asked.
He moved to attack her again but finally, her instincts kicked in and she managed to avoid his next blows. But she knew she didn’t stand a chance, she might have training but he had to be twice her size.
The man grabbed her by her hair, and she was unable to stop him from smashing her head against the dark table. She heard the little orange vase break, and in the back of her mind, something told her that it had been her head that had broken the object. Before she could mourn the lost object, or even register the pain in her face, her head was pulled back again, and she hit the doorknob this time.
She blinked a few times, each time taking longer to open her eyes.
Darkness had already taken over most of her vision when she was thrown on the floor, her arms hitting the floor just a second after her head.
The intruder above her moved closer, “God, you never give up, do you?” The man taunted. His breath washed over her neck, and she reached blindly for his hair, pulling hard enough for a few strands to fall to the floor.
Groaning, she managed to get her knees under herself. Her nails found purchase on the wooden floor and she tried to scramble away from him, but his boot connected with her ribs and swiftly brought her back to the ground.
“You stupid bitch!” She heard him say over the sound of her head hitting the floor again.
A choked sob escaped her throat as her vision went black.
It was over.