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Five Years Ago
Brenda looks around the bedroom—their bedroom in their condo. But it isn’t theirs right now. Not with Jack Raydor sleeping on the couch in the other room.
She doesn’t want to see it, but no matter how hard she tries, it’s all she can think of: Sharon and Jack. Married. Unlike her and Sharon.
“What did you want me to do? I couldn’t send him out on the street—”
“Did you tell him you’re seeing someone?”
Sharon opens her mouth, then closes it. It’s answer enough.
Brenda huffs in frustration. “Of course you didn’t.”
“It isn’t that simple; I haven’t seen the man in years—”
“But you’re married to him—”
“You know why; you know—”
“What I know, Sharon, is that I’m supposed to be livin’ here,”—her accent gets thicker as she gets angrier; it’s something Sharon has always secretly found endearing, but right now it’s anything but—“And I come home to find your husband sleepin’ on my couch—with no warning!”
“That’s what you’re mad about? That I didn’t tell you? Well I’m sorry, Brenda Leigh; I’m sorry I didn’t have time to call you—while you were out on a case, I might add—because I was too busy freaking out over the fact that he is even here!”
“And just what were you plannin’ to do when I got home?”
“Not argue like this!”
“You have to tell him, Sharon.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
“And not just him.”
“Brenda Leigh—”
“No, I mean it, I–I live with you, Sharon. I live with you and I love you and nobody knows! And now your husband shows up—probably thinkin’ he still stands a chance with you, and I bet you gave him no indication to tell him otherwise.”
Sharon is crying now, unable to deny any of what Brenda’s just said. She reaches out for Brenda, “Honey, please—”
But Brenda backs away from her. Brenda is crying now, too, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t know if I can do this, Sharon. Not like this.”
“Brenda Leigh—”
“I gotta go,” Brenda says. And just like that she’s out the bedroom door, making her way through the condo.
“Brenda Leigh, please,” Sharon begs, following her, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I love you so much, Sharon, but this isn’t a life together. I’m sorry.” And then she’s out the door, slamming it behind her.
And Sharon falls to the ground in tears.
The slam of the door and Sharon’s sobs are enough to wake Jack. He tries to come over and comfort her, but she pushes him away. “You need to leave,” she says. “And never come back.”
* * *
Brenda knew it was bound to happen one day. Honestly, she’s surprised it’s taken this long; Sharon must’ve had something to do with that. But whether they want it or not, they’re bound to see each other tonight. And not just see each other, but work together—on opposite sides of a case.
Because David Gabriel shot a civilian, and Sharon heads up FID now, and of course she has to come handle this one herself. Brenda wonders if Sharon even knew at first that he’s from Brenda’s division, or if she arrived on scene to a dreaded shock. She hopes it’s the former; hopes Sharon has known from the start and has composed herself just like Brenda is trying to do now.
Ding dong in hand, Brenda rips the snack package open and shoves as much as she can in her mouth. It’s no use. Not even chocolate can calm the storm inside her that is her feelings for Sharon Raydor.
When she’s finished her pastry—no use wasting it, even if it’s not nearly as satisfying as she wants it to be—she aims her focus on Sergeant Gabriel. Knowing he’s on her squad, she can only imagine that Sharon won’t go easy on him.
She doesn’t mean to yell at Gabriel, really she doesn’t, but even just the thought of Sharon has her on edge. Five years, and this is the first time they’ll have spoken—and it’s about work. It makes Brenda so mad she could snap a KitKat in half.
And then she hears those heels—that sound she could never forget. Sharon has a specific walk, a specific way her heels click against hard floors that Brenda could recognize anywhere. This is it. Here comes Sharon Raydor.
Sharon walks in, bypassing Brenda completely, eyes only for Gabriel.
“Lieutenant Raydor,” Brenda says, and it has Sharon turning to face her finally. It’s a cheap shot and she knows it; Sharon was promoted two years ago, but Sharon doesn’t need to know that she knows that; doesn’t need to know that she’d cared enough to find out and even send her those anonymous flowers.
“It’s Captain,” Sharon says smoothly, but her eyes give her away—at least to Brenda. Then she’s back on Gabriel.
Brenda was right, Sharon shows no mercy. She’s harsh—cruel even—and she really, really is ignoring Brenda’s existence. All Brenda can do is watch. She wants to be mad, she really does, but more than that she wants to throw her up against a wall and kiss her.
Those are…not the thoughts a married woman should be having about her ex, but this is Sharon. Sharon who she’s been in love with, Sharon who she’s lived with, Sharon who she’s seen naked too many times to ever forget. Yes, she wants to kiss Sharon. She also wants to slap her. There’s a fine line between lust and anger, and Brenda knows she’s standing on it, unable to completely choose a side.
Sharon has Gabriel taking a breathalyzer test and finally they’re somewhat alone.
So Brenda tries. She has to. “Captain Raydor, it is so nice to—”
Sharon doesn’t take the bait, but she does cut Brenda off. “So, I was told that Sergeant Gabriel and the victim had been sent to Cedars, and here you all are at St. Catherine’s Medical Center, and I was just wondering: how is it that you happened to be at the right hospital while I was sent to the wrong one?”
If Sharon wants to be all work, then fine. Two can play at that game. “If I may,” Brenda says, “I’d like to offer some advice. When investigating shootings like this, I question the criminals first before my fellow officers.”
“When I have an unarmed civilian sprayed by bullets from a member of the LAPD, I expect cooperation. It encourages me. And if I could offer you some advice, while I am investigating this shooting, be careful where you place your sympathies.”
“Chief.” Brenda makes that distinction and the tension grows so thick everyone in the room can feel it.
Sharon’s face hardens as she carefully asks, “Excuse me?”
Brenda takes the bait. “‘Be careful where you place your sympathies, Chief. ’ You are a Captain and a subordinate officer, and you will remember that when addressing me. Do I make myself clear, Captain?”
“Perfectly, Chief. Excuse me. Got work to do.”
If looks could kill, Brenda would be dead right now. She should get the point for this round, she really should. But if she won the battle, why is she still so goddamned attracted to Sharon right now? And why is kissing her the only thing she can think about?
Still, technically, it’s Brenda: 1, Sharon: 0.
* * *
Brenda is alone in her victim’s apartment. Maybe it’s not her smartest move, but she never thought—
She’s just examining the apartment, looking for something to ignite her case. And then he’s behind her, duct taping her mouth shut. She tries to scream, but it’s too muffled. He’s still going at it. She fights him off as best she can, but she learns quickly he’s not afraid to hit a woman.
He picks her up and throws her on the bed; roughs her up and pulls at her dress, but she’s Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, and thank god she’s got her gun. It’s only another moment before she has it pressed against his stomach.
“Feel that in your gut?”
“Is it loaded?” He’s got this sick attempt at seduction in his voice.
Brenda doesn’t waver. “Get off me or you’re gonna find out.” She pushes and kicks him away until he’s cowering before her. She demands he take his mask off, but he won’t.
Whoever this guy is, he’s an idiot. He comes back for more.
So Brenda shoots. Not to kill—she shoots him in the arm, enough to wound, but nowhere near a kill.
He takes her seriously now and finally does exactly as she demands.
It’s only a few minutes before she has him arrested and in an ambulance.
She has to call Will. She has to report this. She just shot a man.
* * *
Brenda’s hands shake as she brings the bandaid to the cut on her forehead.
“Can I help you with that?” she hears a soft voice ask from behind her.
Gentle as the voice is, it still makes her jump.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Brenda just looks at her through the mirror suspiciously.
“I’m Lieutenant Raydor—FID.”
Brenda turns to face the woman. She looks tough in her pinstripe pantsuit, but Brenda can see the softness in her eyes. Brenda’s hands are still shaking; she never did get the bandaid on yet.
“Here, let me?” Sharon asks.
Brenda nods, handing it over.
Sharon slowly comes closer, takes a look at the cut on Brenda’s forehead. “We should clean that up first. May I?”
Again, Brenda only nods.
Slowly, Sharon takes some paper towels and wets them. She gently brings them to the cut on Brenda’s face.
Brenda winces.
“Sorry, I know it stings. Just another second.” Sharon replaces the wet paper towel with a dry one for a moment, then carefully covers the cut with the bandaid. “There,” she says. “That should help.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Chief Johnson.”
The use of her title brings Brenda back to the issue at hand. “No offense, but a Lieutenant? That’s who they send when a Deputy Chief shoots someone?”
“The nature of this situation is…delicate,” Sharon says. “I volunteered.”
“Well then, ask me your questions, Lieutenant.”
The questioning doesn’t take long. It’s a good shot and Sharon already knows it. This is all just a formality. A formality that quickly veers into very different territory: how is Brenda liking LA; how long has Sharon been in FID; does Brenda want some company upon her return home? That last one has Brenda pause for a moment.
“Just…if you need someone,” Sharon says gently, “I’m around. I know what it’s like to not want to be home alone.”
“I don’t really wanna go home at all,” Brenda admits. “Got a case to close, anyway.”
Sharon looks down at her watch. It’s nearly 3am now; they’ve been at this most of the night. “How about coffee then?” she offers. “We can tackle going home tonight—or, whenever you’re ready—but I know where to get the best espresso in LA, and I think I could use some right now. How about you, Chief?”
Brenda doesn’t miss the way she says, ‘we’: we can tackle going home tonight. And just like that, she knows she’s not alone. It’s a relief. She’d even thought about calling Fritz, who’s been trying desperately to get her to go on a date with him—though she’s still not sure how she feels about that whole thing—to meet her at her place just to be safe, but now here’s this Lieutenant from FID with gentle eyes and kind words. She looks at Sharon, really seeing the woman for the first time, rather than the police officer; wonders how a woman like Sharon wound up in FID of all places. “Brenda,” she says. “Not Chief, just Brenda.”
Sharon’s smile is soft as she reaches her hand out. “How about it, Brenda? Let me buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She reaches out to take Sharon’s hand, letting her help her up.
“Sharon,” Sharon corrects, her hand moving to the small of Brenda’s back as she leads her out of the building.
Brenda smiles. “Thank you, Sharon. Coffee sounds lovely.”
Sharon’s touch is soft—a welcome contrast to the roughness Brenda has just encountered. She wonders if it’s the trauma or if it’s something else, but she finds herself even leaning into the contact, pressing her back more firmly against Sharon’s hand.
Sharon only removes her touch when they reach her car and she opens the passenger side door for Brenda.
* * *
Sharon angrily paces around her condo with a glass of Chardonnay. How dare she!
Brenda’s words replay over and over again in her mind: Lieutenant Raydor. Please! As if she didn’t know about Sharon’s promotion; as if Sharon didn’t know those anonymous flowers—sunflowers, Brenda’s favorite, and white roses, Sharon’s own favorite—had been from her.
Not to mention: Chief. Oh, that woman has some nerve! That’s all she has to say? After five years? After walking out on her? Sharon takes a hefty sip. Then slams her glass down on the counter.
No! No, she won’t let Brenda get to her like this; not again. She’s cried enough over this woman; she won’t give her any more. If Brenda wants to play dirty, then she can, too.
Sharon takes another sip of her wine. And another. Then she grabs her phone and makes the call.
“Chief Pope, it’s Captain Raydor,” she says as calmly as she can. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
* * *
It’s early in the morning when Brenda closes her case; when Congresswoman Simmons comes to thank her for proving that her daughter really was the girl she thought she was. It’s a nice thought, she thinks, that there are still decent people in the world who really are who they say they are.
It makes her think of Sharon; she’s pretty certain Sharon is one of those people, too.
It’s been two days, and Brenda still hasn’t made it home yet. This early in the morning, she’s not exactly sure she wants to, but she thinks about Sharon’s offer to keep her company if she doesn’t want to be alone. She’s not ready to go home just yet, but she realizes she does want to see Sharon.
So she takes out her phone and calls.
“Hi, Lieutenant Raydor?…Okay—Sharon…I’m okay…Yeah, um…No, no no, I haven’t been home yet…I know and I appreciate that, but not yet, I…Look, I was wondering if—have you had breakfast yet?…I want to have breakfast with you this morning—if you’re available and you don’t…Oh, I have no idea where that is…Yeah, I’m still at the office…No, you don’t have to do that—…Only if you’re sure…Okay…Okay…I’ll see you soon, Sharon…Bye.”
She hangs up with a smile on her face and the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. Sharon’s coming to pick her up for breakfast. And then she’ll probably help her face finally going home. Something about it makes her feel all warm and tingly inside. Something about Sharon just feels right.
* * *
Brenda wakes up the next morning to a heavy weight around her waist. It’s her husband’s arm, she realizes. Fritz is spooning her. But Fritz wrapped around her feels heavy and rough in ways she distinctly remembers Sharon feeling soft and light.
Fritz holds her down like an anchor—like he’s afraid of her leaving in the middle of the night for a case before he’s ready to wake up and let her go. Now that she’s awake, she can’t just lay like this. She tries to untangle herself, but Fritz only holds on tighter.
“Fritzi, I have to pee,” she says as gently as she can.
Fritz only grunts, finally releasing his hold on her.
So she gets up, makes her way to the bathroom, decides she might as well take a shower while she’s at it. By the time she’s out and dressed, Fritz is in the kitchen making breakfast, and Brenda finds Kitty standing next to a pile of his own vomit.
“Oh you poor thing,” Brenda says, picking Kitty up and holding him in her arms. She goes back to the bathroom and grabs toilet paper to clean up his mess. “It’s okay, Kitty,” she soothes the cat. “It’s okay.”
From the kitchen, Fritz asks, “Is Kitty okay? I thought I heard her throwing up.”
“No, no, it’s just…just a little cough. He’s fine.” She’s still holding Kitty, hiding the evidence of his mess under the bed.
“She’s fine,” Fritz corrects.
It drives Brenda mad. She sits on the bed, Kitty still in her arms; she’s not ready to let him go just yet.
“Are you sure?” Fritz asks, joining them in the bedroom. “I could take her in today instead of tomorrow.”
“No, no, no, no. She ate her whole breakfast. I don’t want to rush her over to the vet. Let’s-let’s not make too much of it.” She says, ‘she,’ only to appease Fritz in the moment, to help him leave this alone.
Brenda wants to hold Kitty longer, wants to sit with him, but she has to get to work. Pope called a meeting and that can’t mean anything good. So she hands Kitty over to Fritz, but she doesn’t miss when the soft mewling he’d been doing in her own arms turns to soft growls in Fritz’s.
“I gotta go,” Brenda says,
“Well—”
She cuts him off with a kiss. Then, “I’m late.”
“I could swear I—”
Again, she cuts him off with a kiss. “No, I’m late.”
“I-I heard—”
“I’m late.” And she walks off, ignoring everything Fritz has to say.
On the drive to work, she wonders when her kisses to her husband became so manipulative. Then she wonders how long his kisses have been coming up short. If she’s honest with herself—which she’s not exactly ready to be—she’ll admit that it’s really always been this way.
* * *
Brenda hasn’t heard from Sharon in three weeks. It’s driving her mad. Calls and texts every single day, but they’re all ignored. Sharon even had the locks changed on the condo by the time Brenda had cooled off enough to go home. Yes, maybe it had taken over a full day for that to happen, but Brenda had needed time; she’d needed to think. All she came up with was that she loved Sharon and if the stubborn woman would just talk to her, she’s sure they could work things out.
She’d even tried showing up at FID one day, but Sharon had been “out,” and she’d been advised not to come back unless it was an urgent police matter. At least Detective Elliot had looked sympathetic as he’d told her that. Funny how it took them breaking up for someone to finally even realize they’d been together in the first place.
Her phone ringing brings Brenda out of her irritated ennui. It’s a message from Fritz: I’ve got your info. Give it to you at dinner tonight?
The whole Fritz situation has been a…problem as of late. She’s been trying to put off the awkward conversation, but she can’t exactly tell him she’s seeing someone—because apparently she isn’t. If Sharon would just pick up her goddamned phone—ugh that woman!
But she needs to close her case. And if dinner with Fritz is the only way to do that, then so be it.
Okay, she texts back.
Pick you up at 6.
She wants to tell him no, she’ll get herself there, but she still hasn’t figured out her way around LA, and it really would be so much quicker for him to pick her up.
Ok, is all she sends.
At six, Brenda is dressed and ready—specifically not in any special kind of date-night clothes. Fritz picks her up and drives her to a restaurant in a nearby hotel.
“I’ve heard it’s one of the best,” he tells her. “Wanted to try it out with you.”
I’m seeing someone, the words are on the tip of Brenda’s tongue, but she can’t get them out. Because it’s still been three weeks since she’s heard from Sharon, and she’s really starting to worry that she never will again.
So she sits through dinner and gets her information and keeps her mouth shut. And she drinks Merlot—enough to chase away the sadness even just for a few minutes, a few hours if she’s lucky.
When Fritz leans in to kiss her, Brenda doesn’t push him away. The moment his lips touch hers, she does. “I’m drunk,” she says; she can’t say it’s because she’s in love with Sharon.
Fritz understands. “I’ll take you home.”
And he does.
Brenda will never know how Sharon ever found out about that not-date, but somehow she did. When she leaves for work the next morning, she finds boxes of her things and a tear-stained note in Sharon’s handwriting taped to her front door: I hope he was worth it.
* * *
Pope has called Brenda, Sharon, and Commander Taylor into his office this morning. Those poor men caught in the middle of a five year old breakup neither woman actually even wanted to ever happen. They have no idea what they’ve just walked into.
Brenda and Sharon bring out the worst in each other; they’ve always known how to. That’s the price, Sharon supposes, for also bringing out the best in each other; for knowing each other so well that they know how to best take care of each other, but also know exactly what buttons to push to make it hurt the most. The best has always far, far outweighed the worst with them, but that was when they were together. Now it seems at every turn they’re both just trying to make it hurt.
Sharon is going at it with Taylor, and that just pisses Brenda off even more. This is their fight, not anyone else’s. So she brings the attention back to her. “Uh, well, regardless—Erik Whitner is in stable condition, Sergeant Gabriel has met with his counsel and given his statement; the only thing outstanding is the homicide of a newspaper vendor, which no one has been allowed to investigate.”
Sharon tries to take the high road this time. She really does. “Chief Pope, I spent the night familiarizing myself with Major Crimes—really, really impressive. I find no incidents where they’ve investigated the murder of a newspaper vendor, whereas the shooting of an unarmed civilian by an LAPD officer incurs serious liability—”
“Well, it can’t take priority over a homicide. Perhaps Captain Raydor would like to tell Mr. Parsall’s family that his murder—”
“Chief Johnson is trying to combine my officer-involved shooting with her murder investigation—”
“I’m sorry, are you interrupting me, Captain—”
“When they are clearly two distinctly different cases—”
“Are you interrupting me—”
“I must go first! My investigation must go first!” It’s as close to an outburst as Captain Sharon Raydor has ever come at work. So much for taking the high road. She takes a second to compose herself. Then continues, venomous gaze glued to Brenda, “These attempts to pull rank are embarrassing, unacceptable, and potentially an obstruction of justice.” She turns back to Pope once she sees her insults have landed as desired on Brenda. “I have a federally mandated responsibility to determine why an LAPD officer discharged his weapon, which supersedes Chief Johnson’s objections, as well as yours, Sir…if it comes to that.”
She’s obviously scared Pope, who cautiously says, “It won’t.” And then tries to take back some control of this meeting.
Unfortunately for Sharon, despite still being able to get a few more barbs in at Brenda, Pope takes Brenda’s side, and she has to share her crime scene.
Brenda: 2, Sharon: 0.
But she can’t let it end this way. On pure adrenaline, she chases after Brenda as she leaves Pope’s office with Taylor in tow.
“Chief Johnson, wait!”
Brenda turns to look at her, and Sharon nearly loses every thought in her mind. Brenda is stoic and pissed, but she’s still so beautiful. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun with just a few blonde strands framing her face that Sharon longs to run her fingers through.
But they’re not alone. Taylor is right beside Brenda, and she can’t make this about them—she won’t. Shrinking just a bit, she says, “I-I just wanted to say that I understand the urge to protect the people you work with and respect it, but I’m obligated to investigate this shooting as if it were a criminal act, and I would ask that you do nothing to jeopardize the success of my inquiry; that’s all—”
“You stay out of my way, Captain, I’ll stay out of yours.” Brenda’s voice is harsh.
It cuts Sharon deep, but she has to hold it together. “Well,” she says with a pointed look, “I tried.”
Then she walks off, leaving Brenda longing after her. Instinctively, Brenda reaches out a hand and opens her mouth to call Sharon back, but she quickly remembers where she is, and pulls her hand back, saying nothing. All she can do is stare at Sharon’s retreating form.
Brenda: 2, Sharon: 1.
* * *
Brenda can’t let Sharon consume her thoughts all day. She can’t. She won’t. She needs to do her job; she needs to—like Sharon had explicitly called her out on—clear Gabriel’s name. So that’s what she sets out to do.
She’s been at it for hours when she gets a call from Fritz, home from the vet with Kitty. He calls to tell her…well, to very condescendingly tell her that Kitty won’t be getting better and there’s nothing more anyone can do. But Brenda loves Kitty in a way Fritz never has; she can’t face the idea of putting him down.
She ends their phone call in tears, refusing to agree that Kitty can’t be saved. She needs more time with him. Fritz just doesn’t understand because he doesn’t love Kitty the same way she does—because Kitty had never bonded with Fritz the same way he did…well, the same way he did with Sharon.
That’s the other thing this whole ordeal has brought up—especially with Sharon’s reappearance in her life now—she can’t help but remember that Kitty loved Sharon.
* * *
“A cat?” Sharon asks as they sit cuddled together. They’re in Brenda’s living room, a couple glasses of wine in, with some old black and white film Sharon insisted on watching in the background. Sharon is sitting against the arm of the couch and Brenda’s curled into her side.
They don’t always cuddle like this—truth is, they never have before—but they’re both feeling the wine and feeling the…friendship that’s developed between them in the few weeks since that morning Sharon took Brenda for coffee. They’ve been dancing around something maybe; Sharon isn’t sure exactly, but she does know that she loves spending time with Brenda, and she can tell that Brenda feels the same. She also knows that Brenda is beautiful and…ignites something in her she’s not sure she’s ever acknowledged before.
Kitty is staring at them from atop the coffee table.
“You didn’t tell me you had a cat.”
“He came with the place,” Brenda says casually. When Sharon says nothing, she asks, “Why, are you allergic?”
“No, I just…”
“Just what?”
“…Don’t like cats.”
Brenda laughs at that. “Well that’s okay, neither do I.”
“And yet you have one…”
“Kitty belonged to the previous owner. The pound was supposed to come get him and they just…never did.” Brenda shrugs. “He’s fine. Very low maintenance. And a good listener.”
Just then, Kitty jumps off the table onto Sharon’s lap. Sharon yelps in surprise; Brenda laughs joyously.
“Calm down, Sharon, he likes you!”
Kitty has curled himself up in a ball in Sharon’s lap, purring away.
“See? Look at that, he’s made himself comfy. You should pet him,” Brenda says.
Sharon gives her an ‘are you serious?’ look.
“Oh, come on, baby, pet him.”
Sharon doesn’t move—partly because she really doesn’t like cats, but more so because Brenda just called her ‘baby,’ and that’s the first time that’s ever happened.
“Come on, Sharon.” Brenda reaches to grab Sharon’s wine glass out of her hand and places it on the table. Then she takes Sharon’s hand and brings it to Kitty’s back. “Just pet him, baby, he loves it.”
There it is again: baby. It sends butterflies to Sharon’s stomach. And she obliges. Kitty purrs louder, burrowing into Sharon’s skirt.
“See? He likes you,” Brenda says. She turns completely towards Sharon then, leans as close as she can get without touching.
Sharon can feel the closeness, feels Brenda’s breath warm against her cheek, feels drawn to look at Brenda—first her lips, then into her eyes, back and forth, back and forth.
“I like you, too, Sharon,” Brenda says. Sharon is staring at her lips again, and Brenda takes that as her sign. She leans in and presses her lips against Sharon’s. It only lasts a moment before she pulls back, resting her forehead against Sharon’s cheek, afraid to look her in the eyes. “Was that okay?”
Sharon brings a hand to Brenda’s cheek, guides their eyes to meet. Then she leans forward, pressing her lips to Brenda’s. It heightens from there, gets needy. Brenda’s tongue is in Sharon’s mouth and Sharon’s hands are tangled in blonde hair.
“God, I feel like I’ve been waitin’ forever for this,” Brenda says through kisses, accent heavy.
Sharon is slowly learning the moments that bring out the southern in Brenda. She loves it each time she learns a new one; files it away for later. Lust, she notes, just might be her new favorite. “I know the feeling.”
“I’ve been dreaming of kissin’ you.” Brenda moves her kisses now from Sharon’s lips to her jaw, down her neck.
“Oh god,” Sharon moans.
“Wanna kiss you everywhere,” Brenda says, placing hot, wet kisses along Sharon’s collarbone. She kisses back up to Sharon’s lips, shoves her tongue in her mouth. When they part, heaving and breathless, Brenda gently tucks a lock of hair behind Sharon’s ear. “But not tonight,” she says; she can feel Sharon’s disappointment. “Not until I’ve taken you on a proper date.”
Sharon kisses her then, fingers toying in blonde curls. “That sounds nice.”
Brenda nuzzles back into Sharon’s side, presses a kiss against her shoulder. “You can still stay, though,” she says softly. “Tonight. I…I’d like you to stay.”
Sharon leans over and presses a kiss to Brenda’s hair. “Of course I’ll stay, honey.”
* * *
The next time they meet in Pope’s office, Sharon can see the tears in Brenda’s eyes immediately. It takes everything in her not to reach out.
But Brenda is clearly trying to hide them, and is apparently doing a good enough job of it that Pope—also her ex; Sharon shudders at that thought—doesn’t seem to notice. Either that or he really never did care to truly get to know Brenda and her tells. Sharon supposes it doesn’t matter now anyway.
“Hello,” Brenda says as she enters. She can’t look Sharon in the eye. She knows that Sharon knows she’s been crying. She knows Sharon truly knows her.
“Chief Johnson,” Pope starts, “I told you to investigate a murder, and now you’re harassing a witness.”
“Well, he’s not a witness anymore; he’s a suspect,” Brenda says.
That gets Sharon’s attention. “Are you in possession of evidence I don’t have?”
“I don’t know.” She’s looking at Sharon defiantly now; daring her to let this be another battle and not some emotional…something between them.
Sharon knows what she’s doing. She lets her. “Okay, let’s get this straight here: I have 72 hours after an LAPD officer discharges his firearm to report to the Chief of Police and the Federal Government as to the exact nature of the event. So if you are in possession of evidence that I don’t have, it is required that you give it to me for my report.”
“You can have access to my evidence when I finish investigating the murder.”
It’s infuriating how Brenda can play this game so well—even more infuriating for Sharon to go at it knowing she’s going to lose this one. On the one hand, Pope always gives in to Brenda eventually; it’s the part of him that’s never gotten over her. On the other hand, Sharon can still see the tears threatening to fall from Brenda’s eyes, and knowing that, there’s no way she can give this one her best shot. She, too, hasn’t quite gotten over Brenda Leigh, and she, too, has a soft spot for her.
Maybe Brenda’s had it right all along. Maybe the way to the top is to date your colleagues.
If that were true, Sharon muses, then she should probably have a few more wins up her own sleeve for dating Brenda.
The meeting ends as expected: Brenda off on some new wild goose chase she won’t let Sharon in on, and Pope perfectly okay with that.
Brenda: 3, Sharon: 1.
* * *
Sharon pulls another dress out of her closet. She stares at it, then throws it down on her bed, atop at least a dozen dresses.
“God help me,” she mumbles to herself.
It shouldn’t be this hard to get dressed, but this is her first real date with Brenda after their kiss, and dammit, she wants it to be perfect.
But she’s a workaholic Catholic who hasn’t been on a date in years, and all her clothes are meant for the office or for church.
She pulls out another dress and—no! It’s too…‘Lieutenant Raydor.’ Brenda is going on a date with Sharon, not Lieutenant Raydor. She sighs as she throws that one on the bed, too.
But wait—what’s that behind there? She looks all the way in the back, hidden behind the dress she wore to church last Christmas, and there it is. It’s black and lace and shows just enough skin to be enticing, but definitely not slutty. She’d worn it to Emily’s last ballet recital in college, and hasn’t touched it since. This is it. This is the dress for tonight.
Brenda is supposed to pick her up at seven, but honestly, Sharon is expecting her to be late. She knows how Brenda is with directions, even despite having been to Sharon’s condo before; she also knows how prone Brenda is to staying late at work. Neither bothers her, really. She knows Brenda will be here.
There’s a knock on her door at 8:03. Sharon takes a moment to straighten out her dress and check her lipstick before opening it.
Brenda’s breath hitches at the sight of her. “Sharon, you look…stunnin’,” Brenda says, accent strong.
Sharon knows she means it, but she also knows there’s more going on here. Brenda looks gorgeous in a bright red dress with white accents around the neckline, bust, and waist, but there’s something in her eyes that Sharon can’t quite put her finger on.
There’s a moment between them, eyes unwavering, and then Sharon asks, “Brenda Leigh, what happened?”
Brenda clearly didn’t expect Sharon to pick up on anything; she shrugs it off, “Nothin’, baby, nothin’.”
“Brenda—”
“Sharon, please,” Brenda begs, pulling Sharon into her arms and pulling her into a kiss. “I wanna be here with you right now.”
Sharon softly brushes her thumb along Brenda’s lash line, wiping up some rogue mascara. “But, honey, you’ve been crying—”
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Brenda leans into Sharon’s soft touch on her face. “Sorry I’m late—”
“Don’t worry about it—”
“I don’t want you to think you’re not important—”
Sharon cuts her off with a kiss. “I don’t think that.” She kisses Brenda again.
Brenda’s hands tangle in Sharon’s hair, pulling softly. “I love the curls,” she says when they part. “Never seen your hair like this before.” She can see the blush rise on Sharon’s cheeks.
“I wanted to do something special.”
Brenda leans in for a kiss. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Another kiss. “We should go.”
Sharon looks deep into Brenda’s eyes again. It becomes harder and harder for Brenda not to cry. Sharon can see her lip start to quiver.
“Brenda Leigh, come here,” Sharon says, pulling Brenda into her arms.
Instantly, Brenda’s tears fall as she buries her face in Sharon’s neck. “We’re supposed to be havin’ dinner,” Brenda mumbles through tears.
Sharon kisses the top of the head. “We will.”
“I made a reservation; I wanted to take you someplace nice.”
“Honey, what happened?”
“Kitty got out,” Brenda cries; then she sobs harder, shaking in Sharon’s arms.
“What? Did you find him?” She feels Brenda shake her head no. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I was gonna be on time, Sharon,” Brenda rambles through tears, “I promise. I was even early—because you matter—but I was rethinkin’ the dress and I left the front door open and he ran out. I tried to find him, but I couldn’t, and it was gettin’ so late and I couldn’t keep you waitin’ and I—” She stops short when she feels Sharon grab her by the hand, quickly grab her keys and purse off a table in the hall, and lead her out the door. “What are you doin’?”
“We’re going to find him,” Sharon says, like it’s obvious.
“Sharon, no! This is our first date—” She’s cut off by the press of Sharon’s lips against hers.
And then they’re walking again—down the hall, into the elevator.
“We have all the time in the world to go to dinner,” Sharon says. “Kitty got out. We’re going to find him.”
Brenda looks at her like she’s the most miraculous thing she’s ever seen—because she is. “Sharon, I—”
She’s cut off with another kiss and a comforting hand against her cheek. “We’ll find him. I promise.” She kisses her again. “And by the way, the dress is perfect,” she adds with a wink.
* * *
The end of their case is finally near. Brenda has solved her murder, and Sharon has completed her report. They won’t have to see each other again after this—likely not any time soon, at least.
Sharon enters the Major Crimes murder room and escorts Gabriel into Brenda’s office.
With the blinds already down for privacy, Brenda starts their meeting. “So, Sergeant Gabriel, as you know, Erik Whitner’s cousin Billy Roth has been arrested for the murder of Mr. Parsall and attempted murder of a police officer. Erik Whitner has also been charged with the murder of Mr. Parsall, though I fully expect the DA to make a deal with him in return for his testimony. Does that comport with your version of events, Captain Raydor?”
“It does,” Sharon agrees. “Now that I have all the information you withheld.”
“And is there anything else?”
“Yeah, there is.” Sharon turns to Gabriel, “Sergeant Gabriel, the District Attorney has reviewed FID’s report and, upon our recommendation, is not filing charges against you. So, once Behavioral Science has signed off, you are cleared for full duty.”
Gabriel turns to Sharon. “Thank you, Captain.”
“You’re very welcome.” She turns to Brenda. “Is that all, Chief?”
Brenda takes a moment to take Sharon in. “No, actually,” she says. She knows it’s a bad idea, knows it’s dangerous, but she’s not ready for Sharon to walk out of her office and out of her life again. Not when she’s right here, right now. She turns to Gabriel. “You’re free to go, Sergeant,” she says. “Thank you for your time.”
Gabriel looks between the two and falters. It doesn’t feel like a good idea to leave them alone like this.
“You are dismissed, Sergeant Gabriel,” Sharon reiterates.
Doubly dismissed. Clearly these two have something they want to sort out. So Gabriel gives them each a nod and leaves Brenda’s office, closing the door behind him.
“Alone at last,” Brenda says.
“Oh please, it’s not like you’ve actually wanted to see me.”
“Not like this, you’re right.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“You were out of control, Sharon—”
“Captain.”
“Fine, Captain—you were out of control—”
“Excuse me? I am not the one who—”
“Came on too strong and assumed guilt simply because the officer involved reports to your ex—” she can’t get that full concept out—that she’s Sharon’s ex; she doesn’t want to use such definitive language still—so she shifts gears, “To-to me?”
“It is my job to find the truth and not assume innocence based solely upon wearing the uniform—”
“You were a bitch! And I-I have to think it was because of me, because I know you, Sharon, and that’s not who you are.”
“Maybe you don’t know who I am—”
“You know what? Maybe you’re right. Because I thought you were better than ignorin’ me.” Brenda’s accent is coming out now, Sharon notices; it’s a tell to her rising anger.
“And I thought you were better than walking away and falling straight into the arms of someone else. I guess we were both wrong.”
“This is hopeless, isn’t it? Don’t know why I thought we could talk like actual human beings again.”
“Don’t give me that crap; this is not my fault. And what happened between us is not the issue here.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.”
“Well, then, please—enlighten me, Captain.”
“What I’ve seen here these past few days has taught me a great deal about your investigative technique—especially as it regards to LAPD’s struggle to regain autonomy over its own affairs.”
“There you go again. Bringin’ it back to work. You can’t handle the real issue—you can’t talk maturely about us—so you just bring it back to the job.”
“I am not the one who couldn’t have a conversation, you were. And this is about the job. Maybe you’re just too short-sighted to see that.”
“You know what? Fine. Because you’ve given me insight, too, into how FID apparently functions. I have learned a great deal from your…single-minded approach.”
“How dare you—”
“I think you should leave now, Captain. I think we’re done here.”
“Fine.” Sharon turns and walks to the door, stopping just before opening it. “Have a nice evening with your husband,” she says. Then takes a moment before adding, “Chief.”
And then she’s gone.
Brenda: 3, Sharon: 2.
* * *
Brenda leads Sharon—who has Kitty in her arms—into her apartment. “I can’t believe he came to you,” she pouts.
They’d been looking for an hour, walking down street after street, until finally, on their way back to the apartment, just one street away, Sharon had called Kitty’s name, and the cat came strutting to her. She’d picked him up quickly, and Kitty melted in her arms, burrowing into her chest.
“You’ll just have to face the truth, Brenda Leigh, I’m your cat’s favorite.”
“I can’t even be mad at him about it,” Brenda says with a light stomp of her foot. “You’d be my favorite, too.”
They settle into the apartment on the couch, Kitty still in Sharon’s lap.
“I’m sorry I ruined our date,” Brenda says.
“I had a lovely time just being with you. What matters is we found him.”
“You must be starving; I promised you dinner.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”
Brenda shakes her head.
“So let’s have dinner.” Sharon gently picks Kitty up and places him on the couch. Then she stands and walks towards Brenda’s kitchen. “What do you have? I’ll cook something.”
“Oh, I-I don’t have…there’s not much…” Brenda says, embarrassed.
“I’m sure I’ll find…” Sharon starts, opening the fridge. Her voice drops when all she finds is a half-eaten chocolate cake and some half and half. “…Something.”
“I’m not really home much,” Brenda explains weakly, meeting Sharon in the kitchen. “Let me order somethin’. What are you in the mood for? Chinese? Pizza?”
Sharon notes that nervous is another emotion that heightens Brenda’s accent. “Whatever you want,” she says. “I’m easy.”
Brenda comes up behind Sharon and wraps her arms around her waist, presses a kiss against her neck. “God, I hope that’s true.”
It makes Sharon hot all over, resting her head back on Brenda's shoulder to allow her more access to her neck. “Mmm you need to stop,” she says after a moment, though her hands are threading through Brenda’s hair, helping guide her kisses to the spots she’s most sensitive. “We’ll never get to dinner if you don’t.”
“What if we skipped right to dessert?”
Sharon moans at that, at the feeling of Brenda’s lips making their way up her throat, across her jaw.
“As…tempting as that is…” Sharon turns herself in Brenda’s arms, catching her in a kiss. “I think both our stomachs would regret that later.”
Brenda sighs dramatically, resting her forehead on Sharon’s shoulder. “Ugh, why are you always right?”
Sharon smirks. “It’s a gift, really.” She presses a kiss to Brenda’s hair. “Order something,” she says gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Brenda leans in for one more kiss, then goes to call in their takeout order. Sharon returns to the couch, Kitty climbing in her lap immediately.
* * *
Brenda comes home to Kitty laying helplessly on a blanket on the living room couch. She comes over and pets him, snuggles him. There are tears in her eyes, and she wishes she could say they’re all for Kitty, but that would be lying. So much of this also has to do with Sharon. But Kitty’s breaking her heart today, too, and at least she can chalk all of her emotions up to that; she doesn’t have to fully face what seeing Sharon again is actually doing to her.
Fritz comes over with a soft, “Hey.” He sits close, adds, “I made arrangements for someone to be with Kitty during the day, so—”
“No, no, no,” Brenda says. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve only been looking at how hard this is on me…not Kitty.” And yes, maybe this has to do with Sharon, too. Maybe she’d never really thought about how hard her actions back then were on Sharon; maybe she’d only really thought about herself. “It’s not what she deserves. Dr. Fleming’s coming over right now, and, uh, we’re gonna do it here so that her last moments aren’t in some examination room. I just…I want to do the right thing by her. This is the right thing, isn’t it?”
“I think it is, sweetie, yeah.”
She’s really crying now, this situation with Kitty feeling even more representative of things between her and Sharon. She’s still cuddling Kitty, pouring all the love she can into it.
The doorbell rings, and her tears intensify. Fritz presses a kiss to her shoulder and gets up to answer it.
“I wish I knew what you were thinkin’,” she tells Kitty. She looks around quickly to make sure Fritz isn’t in earshot. “I wish I knew what she was thinkin’, too.” She wipes at her eyes. “Anyway, no matter what it seems like we’re doing, it’s only because I love you so much.” She cuddles Kitty even more, gently resting her head on his soft body. “Oh, my poor little Kitty. My poor, poor, poor little girl.” She kisses Kitty’s back. “I’m sorry she’s not here to say goodbye,” she whispers. “I know she was your favorite.” She kisses Kitty’s fur again. “I’m gonna tell her,” she promises. “She loves you; I know that. She’d wanna know.”
* * *
Late that night, with Fritz already asleep beside her, Brenda grabs her phone. She opens her texts with Sharon and before she can let herself change her mind, sends, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. And adds a second later, I had to put Kitty down tonight. I just thought you should know. You always were his favorite.
Sharon responds instantly, I’m sorry for your loss, Brenda Leigh. Kitty was special. He loved you so much.
Brenda doesn’t answer that; she’s too busy sobbing. That’s how she eventually falls asleep: still sobbing.
* * *
Brenda backs Sharon into her bedroom, lips pressed together, hands roving everywhere they can reach. When Sharon’s thighs hit the edge of the bed, Brenda gently lays her down and leans over her. Their kiss is interrupted by a shriek from Sharon as Kitty rubs up against her.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Sharon says, pushing Brenda off her. “I am not having sex with the cat in the bed.”
“Come on, Kitty,” Brenda calls, gesturing to the door. “Come on.”
Kitty doesn’t move.
Brenda looks desperately at Sharon.
“Oh, no, honey, this is all you.” Sharon moves to sit back comfortably against the headboard, watching amused.
“Come on, Kitty, me and Sharon need some alone time; come on.”
Kitty only moves closer to Sharon, who softly pets him.
“Sharon,” Brenda whines. “You’re not helpin’”
Sharon leans in for a kiss. “You’re cute when you pout.” Then she picks up Kitty and carries him out of the room. “Come on,” Brenda hears her say as they’re leaving. “I’ll give you a treat and then you can stay in the living room.”
When Sharon returns—making sure to close the door behind her—Brenda is facing away from the door, curls pulled to one side revealing the back of her neck and the zipper of her dress. Sharon stares longingly as she makes her way closer. She comes up behind Brenda, presses a kiss against the base of her neck, and starts lowering the zipper on her dress.
“I like a woman who gets right to it,” Brenda says, breath heavy.
“Just any woman?” Sharon asks, following the opening of the zipper with kisses to each new inch of skin revealed along Brenda’s spine.
When she reaches the bottom, Brenda turns around, Sharon’s hands still on her waist. She shakes her head. “Only you.”
Sharon smiles. “That’s more like it.” And then she’s taking Brenda’s dress off. Brenda dressed for the occasion, now clad in only a matching red lace bra and panties set. “Oh, Brenda Leigh.” She threads her fingers through Brenda’s hair, pulling her in for a desperate kiss. “You’re gorgeous.”
Brenda uses their kiss as a distraction and finds the zipper on the back of Sharon’s dress, slowly pulling it down. Sharon only notices it when Brenda’s fingers trace her spine, causing her to shudder under the touch.
“Lemme see you,” Brenda says.
Sharon steps just slightly away from Brenda, removing her own dress, allowing Brenda to simply watch.
She’s mesmerized. Sharon is wearing matching black lace and her dress is barely off when Brenda pulls Sharon to her, into a kiss, and once again guides her back towards the bed.
This time, instead of letting Brenda lay her down, she flips their positions and settles Brenda on the bed. Then she straddles her hips.
Brenda moans as lace presses against lace, pulls Sharon down into a kiss. She reaches around Sharon’s back to unclasp her bra, and slide it off her. Sharon sitting atop her topless is a sight to behold. Brenda leans in, flicks her tongue against an already hardening nipple. Sharon moans at the contact.
Brenda goes in for more, leaving kisses all along Sharon’s breasts, taking a nipple into her mouth every so often, but only for a second—just enough to tease.
It doesn’t take Brenda long to learn that Sharon makes the most amazing noises when she plays with her breasts. “You’re so sensitive,” Brenda says. Then softly bites a nipple.
It makes Sharon gasp. “Brenda Leigh—please.”
“Please what, baby?”
Sharon's response is to grind her hips down against Brenda’s. She feels Brenda moan against the side of her breast. Then she feels Brenda’s hand tracing down her stomach, toying with black lace. She touches her clit through the fabric; Sharon moans, grinding deeper into the touch.
“Honey, please,” she begs. “Want to feel you. ”
And just like that, Brenda slides down her panties and enters her with two fingers.
“Oh god,” Sharon practically screams.
“You feel so good, baby.” Brenda moves her kisses up Sharon’s chest, up her neck, across her jaw, and finally to her lips, all while thrusting in and out of her. “Set the pace, baby,” Brenda says against her lips. “Show me what you want.”
And then Sharon is riding her fingers, taking Brenda in deeper and deeper each time. “Brenda Leigh—I’m close.”
Brenda reaches her other hand between them to rub circles around Sharon’s clit. It has her moaning, breathing so heavy she breaks away from their kiss and throws her head back.
Brenda takes that opportunity to trail kisses back down to her breasts. With a touch to her clit, a bite to her nipple, and Brenda’s deepest thrust yet, Sharon comes with a scream, Brenda’s name on her lips as she rides out the feelings of bliss.
When she stills, Brenda brings her into a kiss. She goes to take her fingers out, but Sharon gently stops her hand. “Stay with me a minute,” she pleads.
Brenda keeps kissing her, keeps her fingers buried deep inside. It’s only when Sharon rests their foreheads together and says, “Okay,” that Brenda pulls out.
Sharon is quick to come in with another kiss, reaching for Brenda’s breast and massaging it through her bra.
“Wanna feel you,” Brenda whines, so Sharon unclasps and removes her bra, then resumes her ministrations. Then she’s leaning down, taking Brenda’s nipple into her mouth. “Oh, Sharon.”
Sharon kisses over to Brenda’s other breast, takes her other nipple in her mouth, and then trails kisses down her stomach and lower. She stops when her lips reach the top of red lace. “I should warn you I’ve never done this before,” Sharon says, fingers sliding under the fabric, readying to pull it down.
Brenda looks at Sharon, makes sure their eyes meet. “Sharon, you’re perfect, baby. And you don’t have to—”
“No, I need to,” Sharon says, sliding the scant fabric down Brenda’s legs. “I need all of you.”
Just those words have Brenda moaning, growing wetter by the second. “Then have me, baby; I’m all yours.”
And Sharon does. She leans in, letting her tongue take its first taste of Brenda’s pussy. She moans at the taste, running her tongue from Brenda’s entrance to her clit.
Brenda’s hands are immediately in her hair, keeping her in place. Sharon flicks Brenda’s clit again with her tongue, moaning when Brenda pulls her hair in just the right way.
“Don’t stop, baby—please.”
Sharon flicks her clit a few more times before wrapping her lips around it. Brenda screams her name, hand in her hair growing more and more deliciously rough as it keeps her in place. Then Sharon thrusts two fingers inside her, hard and deep. It isn’t long before Brenda comes with a scream of her name.
Sharon guides her through her orgasm, only letting up when Brenda’s hold on her hair loosens. She presses a kiss to Brenda’s inner thigh before climbing up her body, straddling her stomach now, and leaning in for a kiss.
Brenda moans at the taste of herself on Sharon’s lips, the kiss sloppy and wet and wonderful. After a moment, Sharon moves to lay beside Brenda, but a hand to her thigh stops her.
“Wait a second,” Brenda says. She leans up for one more kiss, then keeps her hands on Sharon’s thighs to hold her in place and shimmies herself down until she’s positioned with Sharon straddling her face. She doesn’t even give Sharon a chance to process what’s coming before delving in, taking a long, deliberate lick at Sharon’s pussy.
“Oh god, honey.”
Brenda tugs lightly on Sharon’s thighs, wanting her to bring her whole weight down on her, but Sharon resists. “Baby, I need to feel you,” Brenda pleads. “It’s okay.”
Sharon relents, dropping her hips and letting Brenda take her full weight. She feels her pussy press against Brenda’s lips and chin and moans at the contact.
Brenda does things with her tongue that drive Sharon wild; she keeps her right on the edge, pulling back just before she comes. Then does it again. And again.
“Brenda Leigh—please,” Sharon begs.
Finally, Brenda thrusts her tongue inside Sharon, nose pressing against her clit, and Sharon comes, riding Brenda’s face. When she’s had enough, Sharon pulls herself off Brenda and rolls to lay beside her.
They lay facing each other, Brenda’s face still glistening with Sharon’s own arousal, and Sharon can’t help but lean in for a kiss. It’s slow and deliberate, until they have to break apart for air.
Brenda moves closer until there’s no space left between them. Foreheads pressed together, Brenda moves a curl out of Sharon’s face. “You’ll stay, right?”
Sharon presses a kiss to Brenda’s forehead. “Yes, honey; I’m not going anywhere.”
Brenda rolls just slightly onto her back, pulling Sharon into her side. Sharon rests her head on Brenda’s chest, places a kiss against her heart. Brenda’s arm is around her waist, and Sharon’s arm is slung across Brenda’s hips. They couldn’t get closer if they tried—and oddly enough to them both, it doesn’t feel suffocating at all; it just feels right.
“Goodnight, Brenda Leigh,” Sharon says, feeling herself drift off to sleep.
Brenda presses a kiss to Sharon’s hair. “G’night, baby. Thank you for bringing Kitty home.”
* * *
It’s a little over a month before their paths cross again. Brenda is called into Pope’s office—he’s been extra clingy and on top of her lately ever since the announcement that the Mayor would be appointing a new Chief of Police; he appears to be the frontwinner and just loves taking every opportunity he can to show off Major Crimes as his successful pet project. But today is different. Today, when Brenda enters Pope’s office, he greets her first, but lo and behold, standing behind him is none other than Sharon. She even gives this awkward little wave, and Brenda is even more confused.
She has no idea where they stand, really. There’s been no contact since that night she texted Sharon about Kitty. Are they still fighting like earlier that day in her office? Or have they come to some sort of unsaid understanding after that night?
“Oh. Captain Raydor—hi.”
“Chief Johnson,” Sharon greets, but there’s something about her voice. It’s not aggressive in the way it had been during their last case. This sounds more like…honestly, it sounds more like Sharon.
Pope takes the lead—explaining some suspicions about one of Sharon’s FID detectives—and that throws Brenda. Why is Pope speaking for Sharon? Are they really on such bad terms?
Eventually Sharon does chime in to describe the situation. “Um, Detective Moore became gradually more anxious, unfocused, and then this morning I—” she looks to Pope for reassurance that it’s okay to continue.
That one gets Brenda. Why is Sharon so afraid—of her?
Pope nods his approval.
Sharon carefully continues, “This morning, I noticed some bruises on the back of her neck and her arm, and when I asked her about them, she told me she had fallen.”
“But you didn’t believe her?”
Sharon shakes her head. “The bruises were inconsistent with her explanation, and no, I do not believe her, and I am worried about her safety.”
And there it is. She understands now why they’re here and why Sharon looks so small. Sharon’s here essentially to ask her for help. The bitter part of Brenda can’t help but enjoy that just a little—it must be killing the equally bitter part of Sharon to be here, asking this. The still in love part of Brenda feels her heart break at the fact that Sharon felt she had to go through Pope to ask for this—that she didn’t know she could come and ask Brenda for any favor herself and she would have it.
“All right then, so I should talk to her,” Brenda suggests.
“Um, before you do, I’m trying to avoid creating certain problems, and if I’m-if I’m overreacting to what I saw—if I’m wrong about this—”
“But if you’re right,” Pope says, “Then this is an assault on one of our employees, which cannot be ignored—and which Captain Raydor should not investigate on her own. So, I would like Major Crimes to discreetly examine the life of Detective Moore and report back to me.”
“I-I can’t start a criminal investigation unless she files a complaint of some kind,” Brenda says.
Then Sharon speaks, softly, tentatively, “I was hoping, Chief, that maybe you would be able to see past the obstacles in this particular situation.”
And Brenda understands it even more. It pisses her off, honestly. Sharon is here to ask her to break the rules for her—Sharon who always follows the rules—wants her to break them for her, but doesn’t even have the decency to ask her herself; she had to go through Pope of all people.
It puts Brenda immediately on the defense. “The obstacles that you’re talking about are the justice system, and I can’t create charges out of thin air—I-I need evidence.”
“Of course you do, but you can easily do an oblique interview with that husband.”
Brenda agrees to the case—of course she does; there was never any question of whether or not she’d actually do it for Sharon—but she decides then and there that she’s not doing this Sharon’s way.
Picking up from last time, now it’s Brenda: 4, Sharon: 2.
* * *
Sharon goes back to her office, but she’s having trouble focusing. She’s worried about Detective Moore. She’s concerned about involving Brenda. She thinks Brenda looks really beautiful in that suit she remembers so well.
She’d been worried about bringing Brenda in on this, but also she’s the only one she trusts. Going through Pope was…well, she’d like to say it was a necessary formality, but really it was a defense mechanism. She’s afraid of Brenda—afraid of what Brenda makes her feel, afraid of what they’re capable of doing to one another, and afraid of where they stand after last time.
She’d left Major Crimes that day assuming they were still fighting, but then Brenda had texted her about Kitty, and it felt like somehow that changed things. She supposes this situation will put them to the test. After this, she’ll know for sure where they stand.
* * *
Brenda and Sharon walk hand in hand through a park after dinner. Brenda’s just finally taken Sharon out like she’d promised for their first date—they’ve both been so busy that they’ve been spending time at each of their apartments; they haven’t had the time for a real evening out until now.
They’d been early and parking had been horrendous, so they’d opted for parking at the park and walking to the restaurant.
“That was wonderful,” Sharon says, turning to look at Brenda. “Thank you.” Her eyes are sparkling and have that hint of lust in them that Brenda knows all too well. She leans over and presses a kiss to Brenda’s cheek.
“Sorry it took so long for me to finally take you to dinner,” Brenda says.
“Worth the wait.”
They reach Sharon’s car and Sharon opens the door for Brenda, then gets in on the driver’s side. When she sits, she looks over and finds Brenda staring at her with that look in her eyes that means she wants to devour her.
“What?” Sharon asks, playing coy.
“I don’t think I can wait ‘til we get home,” Brenda says.
And just like that, she’s climbing over the console and settling herself on Sharon’s lap. Sharon doesn’t even get a chance to weigh in; she’s being pulled into a desperate kiss.
Sharon’s hands are instantly in Brenda’s hair, holding her close. She feels Brenda’s hands travel across her abdomen and dip under her shirt, making their way to her breasts. She lets her kisses trail from Brenda’s mouth, down her throat, and pays special attention to a spot at the base of her neck that drives Brenda crazy. Her own hands are sliding up Brenda’s thighs, stopping to tease at the sensitive skin just under the hem of her short black skirt.
“Sharon—please—” Brenda cuts herself off with a sigh when she feels her phone vibrating from where she left it in her bra. “No, no, no,” she whines.
She reaches for her phone and it slips out of her hand, landing in Sharon’s lap. Sharon moans at the sensation, arches into it, and Brenda can’t help but stare.
“Go ahead, honey,” Sharon says gently. “Answer.”
Sharon is the first person who’s never made her feel guilty about prioritizing work. She supposes it makes sense; Sharon does the same sometimes. It’s less frequent that Sharon gets called out in the middle of the night, but it does happen. Just like Sharon’s never complained when Brenda does it, Brenda always understands when Sharon has to as well.
Brenda leans in for another kiss as she reaches between them to grab her phone. She feels Sharon arch into her when her touch brushes between her legs. She breaks their kiss only to answer, “Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson.”
Sharon trails kisses down her neck as she’s on the phone—oh, that woman!
It’s Pope on the other line, “Brenda, hi, it’s Will.” Brenda feels Sharon’s disappointed exhale against her neck, feels Sharon’s hands come around to gently rub her back. “I’m sorry to call so late, but we have a dead Judge in Griffith Park.”
Brenda sighs as she crawls off Sharon’s lap back into the passenger seat. “I’m on my way,” she says. Then hangs up and looks over at Sharon. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I understand. I’ll drop you off.”
Sharon drives and Brenda tries to clean up her appearance as best she can. She has Sharon’s lipstick on her face—that needs to be wiped off—and her hair is a mess that she does her best to tame. Then she tries to check her breath, but can’t tell for herself. She leans over and breathes deliberately in Sharon’s face.
Sharon just laughs. “99 Napa Valley Merlot,” Sharon hums. “That’s nice. Though not as nice as a Bourgogne Chardonnay.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re fine, honey; you only had one glass. We both did. If I’m good to drive, you’re good to solve a murder.”
Brenda still looks at her suspiciously.
“There’s gum in my purse,” Sharon says.
“Thank you.” Brenda grabs Sharon’s purse and helps herself.
When the crime scene first comes into sight, Sharon slows down. “How close do you want me to get?” she asks.
Brenda can sense her nervousness, gives her an easy out. “Here’s good, Sharon. Thank you.”
“It’s not that I’m embarrassed, it’s just—”
Brenda cuts her off with a kiss. “We’re still new,” Brenda says. “I understand. And I agree—we don’t need to be tellin’ people just yet. Let’s keep it to ourselves a bit longer.”
Sharon smiles in relief. “Thank you.”
Brenda gives her another kiss. “Get home safe, baby.” Then she exits the car.
“Call me if you need a ride home later.”
Brenda smiles at her. “I will.” Then she closes the car door and heads off to solve a murder.
* * *
Brenda’s crew is as enthusiastic to work on the Ally Moore “case” as Brenda is herself. But Pope demanded they do it, and secretly, she’s not mad about helping Sharon out. She just wishes the damn woman would’ve had the nerve to just ask her herself. It’s much easier to do a favor for Sharon when it’s actually coming from Sharon, rather than being delivered via Pope. It’s a cop out; Sharon is better than that—at least, she should be.
She sees Flynn draw Sharon on the white board as the Wicked Witch and her heart pangs with guilt. Sharon is a lot of things, but she’s not wicked. She’s great at her job and under all that, she’s just about the kindest, most caring woman Brenda has ever met.
She sighs harder as Provenza adds a broomstick to the drawing. But Sharon isn’t her problem anymore, she reminds herself. Sharon’s the one who wouldn’t take her calls, wouldn’t take her back. Sharon made her bed and now she has to lie in it. If Major Crimes hates her, well that has nothing to do with Brenda or their history, so it’s just not Brenda’s problem. Or so she keeps telling herself.
Even still, she brings in Detective Moore for light questioning. It’s brief, and she denies Sharon’s suspicions—as expected. So Brenda’s hands are tied. Which is exactly what she tries to tell Sharon when she comes in to complain about what she considers Brenda’s lack of effort.
“Not even a restraining order yet? Sharon questions.
It’s Taylor who answers, “She’s probably afraid to file. Big guy like that hitting her. Well,” he looks at Brenda, “You did what you could.”
“That’s it?” Sharon asks incredulously.
Again Taylor answers—neither Brenda or Sharon has any idea why; when did he get involved in this anyway? “Chief Pope told me you asked for discretion.”
“Yes, and, uh, he also asked that this case be taken seriously,” Sharon argues, “And yet I can see that there’s no one else here.”
“That’s because they’re all out canvassing Detective Moore’s neighborhood, looking for something that I can follow up on.”
“This is abuse—plain and simple.”
“You didn’t get an admission of abuse either, Captain,” Taylor says. “And have you considered what the husband’s attorney might do if it turns out he’s innocent? Shoot; I could write those headlines.”
“Well, you are worried about headlines, Commander,” Sharon says icily, “And I’m worried about one of my employees getting the crap beat out of her.” She turns back to Brenda. “Is there no way to talk to the husband? That’s what I’d do.”
And Brenda has just about had it with Sharon now. She’s doing her a favor; Sharon does not get to say she’s doing a bad job at it! Is she maybe being a little biased and taking her frustrations on Sharon out on this case? Maybe. Is she maybe refusing to do what Sharon suggests simply because she’s the one to suggest it? Also maybe—but that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing her job.
“You’re not in charge here,” Brenda tells Sharon. “And I don’t have what I need to confront Shawn Moore.”
“You get people to confess to murder all the time and you’re telling me that with these pictures in hand, you can’t pick up the phone and call Ally’s husband and ask how she became so severely beaten?”
“Captain! I care about this kind of violence every bit as much as you do—”
“Bullshit!” Sharon exclaims, drawing all eyes to her. “I thought you did; I thought—after everything; after that night—”
Brenda’s blood runs cold at Sharon’s insinuation to the night they met; her fists clench at her sides.
“—But clearly, I was sorely mistaken—again— ”
“Captain Raydor, that’s enough!” Brenda practically yells, pulling Sharon out of her rant; grounding Sharon in where they are and what’s actually the issue at hand here.
Sharon takes a deep breath and straightens her posture, runs a hand down the non-existent wrinkles in her dress pants. Then, “Okay. I apologize. I’ll take your word for it—and I will expect a more thorough report later. Thank you.” With that, she walks away—before she can cause any more damage.
Taylor looks at Brenda, who’s still doing her best to compose herself. “What the hell got into her?”
Brenda takes a deep, calming breath; it only kind of works. Through clenched teeth, she says, “I have no idea.” Then storms off to her office, leaving Taylor to stare back at her in shock and curiosity.
Brenda: 4, Sharon: 3.
* * *
It’s an intense case—one that keeps Brenda busy all through the night and into the morning. It also has her ending up with a black eye from her victim’s autistic son.
She isn’t expecting to see Sharon in her office early the next morning, but she does, and it’s a very welcome surprise.
Sharon looks nervous, smaller than usual; clearly being here has her uncomfortable. She’s holding two cups of coffee, and that just melts Brenda’s heart.
“Hey,” Brenda says, walking over to her.
“You didn’t call, so I thought you could probably use this,” Sharon says, holding up one of the coffees.
“You’re an angel,” Brenda says, moving closer to her. She wants to lean in for a quick, discreet kiss, but this kid just told her that her breath smells, so she’s feeling self-conscious. So she takes the coffee, letting her hand linger against Sharon’s for a moment first.
“What happened?” Sharon asks, her now free hand coming to caress Brenda’s face, just beside her black eye.
“Nothing,” Brenda waves off, “I just…Um, this is Keith.” She gestures to the boy in her office. “Keith, this is Lieutenant Raydor—Sharon.”
“Hi Keith,” Sharon says gently, with a cute little wave.
He smiles at her. Then goes back to his video game.
Brenda puts a hand to the small of Sharon’s back and leads her out of Keith’s earshot. “Thank you for the coffee. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Well, I also found your phone,” Sharons says, reaching into her pocket to get it and hand it to Brenda. Then she gets this sly little smirk. “Along with your earring.”
Brenda blushes as she takes both items from her and throws them in her pocket. “Thank you, baby.” She takes a quick look at her surroundings—no one else is paying attention—so she leans in and presses a kiss to Sharon’s cheek.
Then their eyes meet, conveying more than words could anyway, but it’s interrupted by Keith, “No!”
Brenda looks over to him? “Keith, are you okay?”
“No!”
“You recognize somebody?”
“No!” He’s frantic now, keeps tapping his watch.
“Are you afraid? Which man is it?—”
Sharon places a gentle hand on her arm. “Honey, let me?” Brenda nods as Sharon approaches Keith slowly.
“I have to go!” He exclaims.
“Where?” Sharon asks.
“I have to go!”
“Where do you have to go, sweetie?” Sharon’s voice is calm; it calms the boy just a little.
He looks at her and says, “It’s 2:00; I have piano lesson.”
“You play the piano?” Sharon asks.
He nods. “It’s 2:00. I have to go to my piano lesson.”
“Keith, you can’t go to your piano lesson—”
Keith cuts Brenda off, “I have to go! I have to go!”
“Okay, sweetie,” Sharon says calmly. Gently, she rests a hand on Keith’s shoulder.
“Sharon wait—” Brenda tries to warn her, but Sharon makes contact with him and, to Brenda’s surprise, he lets her.
“I have to go,” Keith says, softer now.
“Okay,” Sharon says. “Okay, we’ll take you to your piano lesson.”
Keith calms even more, nodding.
Sharon is gently rubbing his shoulder and Keith’s leaning into it, letting Sharon comfort him.
Brenda realizes this must be the way Sharon is with her own children—soft and motherly. It’s beautiful, really. She definitely has a knack for this sort of thing. She’s brought out of her thoughts on Sharon by the woman herself speaking.
“Honey, you have to take him to his lesson,” Sharon says.
Brenda nods, snapping out of her thoughts. “Ri–right.”
Sharon hesitates a moment. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“You would do that? You have time to do that?”
“I can make time.”
“How would we explain it?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Brenda takes a moment to consider the offer. She wants Sharon to come, she really, really does—both for her own sake and for Keith’s. “Well, he clearly likes you,” she says. “I touched his shoulder and I wound up with a black eye.”
Sharon can’t help her little laugh. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes, Sharon. I-I’d like you to come.”
Sharon smiles. “I’ll drive.” Then she turns to Keith, “Come on, sweetie, we’ll take you to your piano lesson.”
“Take him to the car?” Brenda asks. “I’ll let the boys know where I’m gion’.”
Sharon nods, leading Keith out of Brenda’s office, through the murder room. All eyes are on them as they leave.
“What’s Raydor doing here?” Provenza asks skeptically.
“Lieutenant Raydor was just droppin’ by to ask me something,” Brenda explains. The heaviness of her accent gives away her nervousness at this conversation. “Now, if y’all need me, I’m takin’ the kid to his piano lesson.”
Gabriel moves to get up. “Need a ride?”
“Thank you Sergeant, but I’ve got that taken care of.”
Gabriel looks around the murder room—their whole squad is there. “Um…”
“I’m takin’ Lieutenant Raydor.”
“What's going on, Chief?” Flynn asks.
“Yeah, why’s that wicked witch hanging out here?” Provenza spits.
“Now, now, Lieutenant Provenza, there’s no need for name calling.”
“Um—Lieutenant Raydor?” Gabriel asks.
“She’s with FID,” Provenza says with disgust.
“FID? Is there something we don’t know about?” Gabriel asks.
“No, no, no. While Lieutenant Raydor was talkin’ with me, Keith started havin’ a fit. She was able to help calm him down, and he took a likin’ to her. Somethin’ ‘bout her being a mother I think. Anyway, Lieutenant Raydor and I are takin’ Keith to his piano lesson. Meanwhile I need y’all to keep digging into Judge Thompson.”
“Chief—” Gabriel tries, but she cuts him off.
“Thank you so much. Bye now.” And then she’s out the door.
* * *
It’s much later that night in bed that Sharon finally lets it all out. She settles in for the night—for once, sleeping on the side of the bed that used to be Brenda’s—and cries. Cries for her employee, cries for herself, and cries over Brenda. It’s not supposed to hurt this much five years later; the logical part of her knows that, but every altercation with Brenda just seems to open old wounds and bring out the worst in her as a result.
Maybe she was wrong to think Brenda would help her. Maybe she should have had the nerve to ask Brenda for help herself; maybe that would have ebbed the tension. She can’t know any of that for sure, but what she does know is that this needs to come to an end. The way they’re acting isn’t fair to anyone.
Sharon sobs harder at the realization that she really was the one wrong in this situation. Yes, she won that round, but at what cost? Regret eats away at her as thinks back to bringing up that awful incident the night she and Brenda first met and using it against her.
Who am I? she thinks. What’s happened to me?
Except she knows what’s happened. It’s Brenda. It’s the fact that Brenda hurt her so much. It’s the fact that despite it all, she’s still just so in love with her.
The admission pains her, brings about a new wave of tears—and that’s how she eventually falls asleep.
But her sleep that night is cut short. Her phone is ringing; it’s Pope. He’s calling to inform her that she now has a case: Shawn Moore has just been the victim of an officer-involved shooting.
It takes everything in her to keep her emotions in check, but through it all, she can’t help but think that this is all Brenda’s fault.
That’s enough to lose a point, isn’t it? Sharon sure thinks so, making it Brenda: 3, Sharon: 3—there’s no point to be gained here; this isn’t a win for anyone, only losses.
* * *
Brenda really is amazed at Sharon’s ability to handle Keith.
He has another fit in the car, shouting, “Where am I?!” repeatedly.
“Uh, you’re in Sharon’s car,” Brenda tries.
“Where am I?!”
“At the police station.”
“Where am I?!”
“Uh, in Los Angeles?” Brenda can feel her patience wavering. Obviously Sharon does, too, because the next thing she feels is a gentle hand on her thigh.
“Where am I?!”
“I-I-I don’t know!”
“Brenda, honey, you need to keep calm.”
“How am I supposed to do that, Sharon? He won’t stop.”
“Where am I?!” Keith is frantically pointing towards the dashboard now.
Sharon, realizing what he’s pointing to, turns on the GPS. “Is this what you want?” she asks, and Brenda really can’t understand how she can still be so soft, still be so patient.
Keith nods. “Where am I?”
Sharon turns on the GPS. “150 North Los Angeles Street,” she says.
Keith finally calms. “1-5-0 North Los Angeles Street, Los Angeles, California, 90012.” He sits back with a sigh. “I’m going to be late for my piano lesson.”
“We’ll get you there, sweetie, don’t worry,” Sharon says as she begins driving.
“Yeah,” Brenda agrees, her hand sliding into the one Sharon has resting on her thigh. “What Sharon said.”
Sharon offers her a small smile and brings their joined hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of Brenda’s. “Just relax, Brenda Leigh,” she whispers. “We’re all doing our best.”
* * *
Brenda enters her murder room the next morning only to find an angry Chief Pope waiting for her and demanding she join him in her office. She follows him in, nervous and unsure of what’s awaiting her.
He’s even more angry when they’re alone. And, annoyingly, he sounds like Sharon when he questions her conduct in working this case.
“Did Captain Raydor call you?” she asks.
“No, I spoke with her in person. At the crime scene.”
That throws Brenda for a loop. “What crime scene?”
“At approximately 1am this morning, a 911 call was put out from Detective Moore’s residence. When the responding officer arrived, her husband, Shawn, fired at him with her weapon. The officer returned fire, killing him.”
“Oh,” Brenda says, relieved. “So Ally isn’t dead?”
“But the husband is—going on eight hours now. FID was sent to the scene because it’s an officer-involved shooting which Captain Raydor believes is a direct result of your not taking Detective Moore’s problem seriously enough, and I’m inclined to agree with her. Your failure to interview the husband endangered the lives of two LAPD officers.”
“Let me be clear about this,” Brenda defends, “Detective Moore would not file charges, and you insisted on discretion—‘tread lightly’—which is exactly how I proceeded.”
“If this had been a murder, you would have been here all night.”
“In a murder case, I don’t need a criminal complaint—there’s a dead body.”
“Yeah? Well you got one of those now! You happy?!”
No, she’s not happy. She’s not happy at all. Because he’s right. Even worse—Sharon is right. She did let her mixed up feelings about Sharon get in the way. And as bad as she’s feeling right now, she knows Sharon must be feeling infinitely worse. Crap.
She lets Pope continue to give it to her; she deserves it, after all. This is her fault; she admits it—at least to herself. In the end, Pope demands she remain on the case. Brenda doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She knows one thing, though: she’s going to have to face Sharon—soon.
So yeah, she definitely agrees that she does lose a point for this one, solidifying the score as Brenda: 3, Sharon: 3.
* * *
Sharon’s been called to an FID case, so after his piano lesson, Brenda is left alone with Keith. She has more patience now, though; Sharon has taught her that. Sharon picked up on Keith’s quirks fairly easily and always explained them to Brenda so she’d have an easier time handling him on her own.
She brings Keith to her apartment and offers him some food. It’s not much—only a granola bar—but, “It’s all I had that was…fresh,” she tells him. “Sharon’s better at this stuff than me.” She really wishes Sharon had been able to be here to help her with this.
“You and Sharon…” Keith says.
“What about us?”
“You’re like…my mom and dad used to be?”
Brenda smiles at that. She likes that thought—the idea of being married to Sharon one day. “Yes, Keith, we are.”
Keith just nods and takes a bite of his food. “My dad is late,” he says.
It sparks a whole conversation Brenda didn’t know this kid was even capable of having. A conversation about death. Clearly Keith understands a lot more than his mother realizes.
When he asks, “Where is dead?” Brenda wishes even more that Sharon were here to field that one.
She says all she can, “I don’t know.” Then she hurries to get them back to the police station. She’s got work to do.
* * *
Of course Sharon is already at the crime scene—still at the crime scene? Has Sharon slept at all? Maybe she should bring her a coffee—Brenda’s rambling thoughts are interrupted by the woman herself, telling her to leave.
But Pope has ordered her to be here and, truth be told, well, Brenda wants to be here—she wants to help Sharon with this. Really what this has all shown her is that she’s still in love with Sharon and that…well, that’s a lot to unpack for a later date, but at the very least, it means she wants to help her now.
More than that, she hates the way Sharon is looking at her right now. She remembers the look of love in those green eyes, the smile on that beautiful mouth. This isn’t the Sharon she wants to see; this isn’t the Sharon she wants to deserve. She’s going to do better by her—she has to do better by her.
But Sharon’s not making it easy. She takes every jab she can at Brenda while explaining the situation and refuses Brenda access to Sergeant Dunn, the officer involved in the shooting, and, as far as Brenda is concerned, forces her to once again play the rank card to get what she needs—which, in this case, is for Taylor to interview that Sergeant.
Unfortunately, Sharon sums up the result of that interview best, “Well, I think that we can all agree that as it regards to your domestic abuse investigation, this interview is damaging.”
“Yes, Captain,” Brenda has to agree. “It is.”
The disappointment hits Brenda in waves. As usual, Sharon is right, and on top of it, here she goes again: disappointing Sharon.
Brenda: 3, Sharon: 4.
* * *
Brenda has the killer in her office within a few hours. There’d been a whole ordeal with Keith’s mother, but Brenda had handled that. Just like, shortly after, she’d handled setting up arrests and charges for both the killer and the one who’d hired him—Keith’s mother.
It means Keith will be going to a group home that specializes in children with special needs, but Brenda wasn’t expecting that to happen so soon. She’s barely even finished her arrests when she walks into her murder room and hears Keith panicking.
“Where am I?! Where am I?! Where am I?!”
“Where are you taking him?” Brenda asks. She’s grown fond of this kid over the past day. She cares what happens to him. She cares that he be around people who know how to keep his panic at bay—know to tell him exactly where he is.
“They’re taking him to the Sloane House, Brenda,” Pope tells her. “Like we agreed.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes.”
She pulls away from Pope and goes straight to Keith.
He’s still panicking, “Where am I? Where am I?” When he sees Brenda, he pauses for a moment, looks her in the eye, and much more calmly asks, “Where am I?”
Brenda takes a deep breath. “You’re back at the Police Station, Keith. 150 North Los Angeles Street, Los Angeles, California, 90012.”
Keith remains calm and repeats after her, “1-5-0 North Los Angeles Street, Los Angeles, California, 90012. Okay.”
The two representatives from the Sloane House look at Brenda, impressed.
“He likes to know exactly where he is,” she says. “Every time you get somewhere, you tell him where he is.”
They both nod and escort Keith out of the murder room. Brenda rushes to her office, shuts, and locks the door, and closes the blinds. She takes a deep breath to keep her tears at bay. Then sits at her desk and picks up the phone.
* * *
Unsurprisingly, their next meeting brings another dispute: who’s going to interview Ally Moore? It’s Taylor who makes the suggestion, “If you really want to lessen the burden on Detective Moore, you…you two, um, should interview her together.”
And that’s how Brenda finds herself sitting beside Sharon in an interview room, directly across from Ally Moore.
The care Sharon shows for Ally is almost startling to Brenda. It’s nothing like the romantic care she’d always shown Brenda, but it bears resemblance; it reminds her of the Sharon she really knows—the Sharon she loves.
It reminds Brenda of the night they met. Sharon handles Ally the same way she did Brenda that night—gentle, understanding, helpful. It kills Brenda to have to scold her for answering too many questions for Ally instead of letting the Detective answer for herself, but she has an ongoing investigation, too, and Sharon isn’t exactly helping that by…coddling.
Sharon responds to that surprisingly well, though, letting Brenda take the lead and continue to ask questions. When Brenda asks how Detective Moore’s husband got her gun, that’s when things go south. She feels Sharon next to her having the same thoughts; it’s only confirmed when they talk after the interview is over.
“Chief Johnson, I have some concerns about Sergeant Dunn’s original statement,” Sharon says immediately.
“Why, Captain? Because of everything he accomplished in the very short amount of time before backup arrived? Or is it the contradictory physical evidence from the morgue? Or could it be the placement of Detective Moore’s gun?”
“Well, I am curious also why Detective Moore and Sergeant Dunn’s statement regarding her weapon are so drastically different.”
“It’s the one question they didn’t expect us to ask.”
“So you do believe they knew each other prior to this incident.”
“Oh, yes, Captain, I do.”
This is the kind of moment with Brenda that Sharon remembers best—also that she tries hardest to forget. For all the ways they know how to bring each other down, they complement each other even more. They’re in sync—almost always have been. They can read each other better than anyone, and they think alike.
It’s why their relationship had worked so well. Somehow, they’ve always just understood each other.
This is the Brenda she remembers; this is the Brenda she still loses sleep over losing. This is the Brenda that makes her question her own actions five years ago, making this a stalemate for sure.
* * *
As for Sharon’s day, earlier, an officer shot a suspect on the run. It’s more of a headache than she wants, but that’s the job.
She’s been tasked with taking the offending officer’s partner’s statement. Which is what she’s on her way to do, walking down a hall of the Police Station just three floors above Brenda, when her cell rings.
“Raydor,” she answers brusquely.
Hearing Sharon’s voice makes Brenda lose all her resolve. “Baby, I need you,” she says, tears finally falling.
It stops Sharon in her tracks and has her quickly slipping into the nearest ladies room. “Brenda Leigh, honey, I’m here. I’m here.”
Brenda only cries harder; can’t find the words right now.
“Honey, what happened?”
“It was his mother,” Brenda says.
Sharon takes a deep breath. The mother in her experiences great heartache; the cop in her feels angry; the girlfriend in her has the desperate need to help Brenda through this. It’s the girlfriend that wins out. “So what happens now?”
“They took him.”
“Who did?”
“The Sloane House—for special needs children. They took him already.”
It breaks Sharon’s heart. “Honey, I’m sure it will be good for him—”
“They don’t know him, Sharon! He kept askin’ where he was and they wouldn’t answer him!”
“They didn’t know, honey—”
“But they shoulda! They shoulda known—you knew!”
“I had to figure it out, Brenda Leigh, just like they do. It takes time. It takes time to figure it all out.”
“They shoulda just known.”
“He’s going to be okay, Brenda Leigh.”
“I told them,” she says, tears subsiding just slightly. “He asked me where he was, so I told him—I told him the address. And then I told them why.”
“So, honey, now they know. And they’ll keep learning what he needs. It just takes time—”
“How did you do it by yourself?”
“What?”
One of Sharon’s fellow detectives opens the door to the ladies room. “Lieutenant Raydor, they’re waiting for you—”
Sharon holds the phone away from her for a moment. “I’ll just be another moment,” she says.
The detective nods and leaves.
Sharon brings the phone back up to her ear. “Say that again?”
“You’re busy,” Brenda says, feeling guilty. “You have a case, I—”
“I have a few more minutes,” Sharon says. “Tell me what you said.”
“How did you raise two kids all by yourself?”
Sharon sighs. “Well, neither of my kids have special needs, so it’s quite a bit different—”
“But still—it’s gotta be so hard.”
“It was. But I didn’t have a choice. And I love them so much. They’re what made it all worth it.”
“You know that’s how she tried to justify havin’ him killed? For Keith’s sake,” Brenda says with disgust. “Screw that! If she really cared for him, she would’ve done better by him—for him.”
Sharon doesn’t really know what to say to that. She’d had emotional moments after Jack first left—abandoning her children—about having him killed, too. Caring for your child is a different kind of love and protectiveness. Of course she’d been rational and not let those thoughts get the best of her, but in another world, had Jack been worse and done unspeakable things…she’s not so sure. But she can’t admit that to Brenda right now.
Brenda talks again before she comes up with anything anyway. “You should get back, Sharon. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I-I’m fine.”
“I don’t know how late I’ll be, but—if I’m not here all night—can I come over?”
“Oh, god yes,” Brenda says, feeling relief already. “Please. I would love that.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sharon promises. “Try to get some sleep honey, okay?”
“I will.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, Brenda Leigh.”
“Sharon?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re a remarkable woman, Sharon Raydor. I’m so lucky to have you.”
“The feeling is mutual, honey. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I am now,” Brenda assures. “Thank you, Sharon.”
“Anytime.”
* * *
Sharon is the one who proves they’re right about Detective Moore and Sergeant Dunn. She finds the file on Detective Dunn’s previous officer-involved shooting, and it proves that he and Detective Moore knew each other. But more than that, the ballistics from that report give Brenda what she needs to close both of their cases.
Once again, it’s clear how well they complement each other. Brenda has Detective Moore and Sergeant Dunn meet them at the morgue, and together, they close the case and prove that Ally Moore faked the whole thing to murder her husband.
They’re the perfect tag-team, finishing each other’s thoughts and proving their point effortlessly. It’s so seamless, you’d think it was rehearsed, but it isn’t. It’s just…them. And it marks another pleasant stalemate.
* * *
“Dontcha think it’s time?” Brenda asks one night—a few months later—over Chinese in the living room. She’s fully living with Sharon now; has been for about a month. “I-I’m not sayin’ we tell everyone, but just…I’d like for you to be able to visit Priority Homicide without my whole squad havin’ a heart attack and throwin’ names.”
Sharon tenses at that. “Well, then maybe you should teach your squad better etiquette when it comes to fellow officers.”
“I’m not saying that you’re wrong on that, but, Sharon, don’t you wanna be able to have lunch together? I could bring takeout to your office—hell, I could send you flowers on Valentine’s Day—”
“I don’t need that, Brenda Leigh.” She gently takes her hand. “I know what I mean to you.”
“Exactly! You mean so much to me—and I wanna be able to share that.”
“I’m just not ready.”
“But, baby—”
Sharon cuts her off with a kiss, slow and sensual. Brenda gives into it, kisses Sharon like it’s the only thing she ever wants from the world.
“Isn’t this enough?” Sharon asks. “Aren’t we enough?”
“Of course we are, baby, but—”
Sharon kisses her again. “Then please. Please let this go for now.”
Brenda pouts and Sharon kisses it away, kisses her like she’s the only thing that matters.
“I love you,” Sharon says.
“I love you, too. That’s why I wanna tell people—”
Sharon’s sigh of disappointment stops her. She really doesn’t want to fight—especially when she’s just off a murder case that’s kept her from coming home and sleeping in the same bed as Sharon for three days.
“Okay,” Brenda relents. “Okay, we can drop it.”
“The time will come, honey; I promise. I’m just not ready yet.”
“Okay,” she says again. “I’ll respect that.”
* * *
The end of their work day finds them both in Brenda’s office. Brenda is reviewing Shawn Moore’s case file when Sharon enters, closing the door behind her, and saying, “You are not gonna believe why Ally Moore wanted to kill her husband.”
“You mean there’s a better reason than the affair she was having with Sergeant Dunn?”
“Well, that all depends on how you feel about real estate. Ally and Shawn Moore had an interest-only loan on their house that was about to reset, and they were going to lose their home unless—”
“Unless one of them died and the mortgage insurance kicked in. Well, it is awfully hard to refinance these days.”
There’s a moment of silence between them, which Sharon takes to seat herself across from Brenda. “Brenda, I just…I wanted to apologize—”
“Sharon, you don’t have to—”
“I do, actually. You were right. I was out of line.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the one who pushed you over it.”
“But I still believe that if you had talked to the husband earlier that he might—”
“He might still be alive. Yes, I’ve thought about that—and about how I might have resisted talking to him because—”
“Because I suggested it.”
“It’s possible.”
“I knew it!” Sharon exclaims.
And just like that, Brenda senses this has taken a turn for the worst. “Sharon, look—”
“No, you admit it! You sabotaged this case to hurt me—”
“No—”
“—Again!”
“That is not fair—”
“Just like with Fritz. You haven’t changed at all. You’re still the same selfish person who walked out on me—”
And there it is. And finally, Brenda has had enough. They’ve been dancing around it—all of it—for too long. If Sharon wants to talk about this now, then fine. They’re going to talk about it. Because Brenda’s ready now. She’s ready to make her admissions.
“You’re right!” Brenda says—yells, even. “I haven’t changed at all.” She shrinks a little then, makes herself smaller. It's barely a whisper when she confesses, “I’m still in love with you.”
It takes Sharon’s breath away. Those words on Brenda’s lips have her heartbeat hastening and send butterflies to her stomach. But there’s so much more involved here than just love, and Sharon remembers how hurtful their breakup was, how she still carries as much heartbreak as she does love for Brenda Leigh. And she’s seen the result of this case; she knows how horrible things can go between them—and not just for them, but for innocent casualties as well. So she makes a choice. She hardens herself, hardens her heart, and icily says, “Try telling that to your husband.”
Brenda’s face hardens in return, her voice filled with venom as she says, “At least I wasn’t married when we were together.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“I’ll tell ya what, Sharon, I’ll make you a deal—a promise. I’ll swear it on anything you want—whatever it’ll take to make you believe it.” She has Sharon’s attention; she knows it. “I’ll divorce my husband when you divorce yours.”
“It is not the same and you know that.” Sharon has gotten up at some point and is close to Brenda now—so close and so enraged that Brenda isn’t sure if she’s more likely to kiss her or slap her. She hopes it’s the former. “You knew—”
She doesn’t give Sharon the chance to make the decision herself. She brings her hands to cup Sharon’s cheeks and pulls her into a desperate kiss.
Sharon responds immediately, lips moving easily with Brenda’s, mouth opening instinctively to let Brenda in deeper, hands grasping at Brenda’s hips.
They part only when the need for air is too great to ignore, breath heavy and foreheads pressed together.
“I wanted to marry you,” Brenda admits. “I knew I couldn’t, but that didn’t make me stop dreamin’ about it.”
Then she feels the immediate loss of Sharon’s presence in her own personal space. There's too much distance between them. Brenda wants to break it, wants to pull Sharon into her arms again, but when she reaches for her, Sharon only steps further away.
“You don’t get to do this,” Sharon says. “You don’t get to do what you did and then tell me you still love me—while married—without even apologizing—”
“You think I’m not sorry? If you’d answered just one of my calls, Sharon, you would know how sorry I am. But you didn’t. You ignored me. You shut me out—”
“Because you walked out! ”
“I was upset—”
“There are other ways of handling that.”
“You’re right…again.” It’s never been the easiest thing for Brenda to admit; she can feel Sharon softening at it. “I don’t know how you always do it, but you’re almost always right. You always have been.”
“Well if it helps, I wasn’t right about you.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?”
“Sharon—”
“You walked away, Brenda. And then you got married. You’re still married—happily from what I hear—”
“Yeah, well don’t believe everything you hear—”
“What do you want from me, Brenda Leigh?”
Sharon sounds exasperated, but even still, hearing Sharon say her name like that brings a smile to Brenda’s face.
One so out of place for the moment, that Sharon can’t help but ask, “What?”
“You said ‘Brenda Leigh,’” Brenda says softly. “I haven’t heard you call me that in—”
“What do you want from me, Brenda?”
It stings. It’s meant to, and it does. But Brenda has to push through. “I miss you.”
“That doesn’t answer my question—”
“I don’t know!” Brenda exclaims. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re doing; I don’t know what we should do. I do know that I meant it; I’ll get divorced if you will—”
“That’s ridiculous—”
“Then nothin’, Sharon! Nothin’! I want nothin’ from you, okay? We finished this case, so you can go back to your life and I’ll stay here in mine. Just…I’ll try to keep my guys from shootin’ anyone so you’ll never have to see my face again, and we can pretend like none of this ever happened—keep pretendin’ like we never happened—”
“That is not what I’m—”
“Isn’t it? Sharon, you clearly don’t want what I want, and I can’t make you—”
“I am not the one who walked out on us—”
“No, but you are the one who wouldn’t let me come back—who wouldn’t even hear me out—”
“Well I’m sorry, but I expected the woman who claimed to love me to do more than simply walk away when things got tough—”
“Sharon, your husband came back and expected to just waltz right back into your life—and you let him! You told him to stay with you—in our home—you let him believe he was welcome and he still had a chance, you—”
“What was I supposed to do? Tell him about us?”
“Yes!”
“It’s not that simple—”
“I lived there, Sharon! Wasn’t he going to find out soon enough anyway?”
“I couldn’t tell him, and you know it—”
“You didn’t want to because you’re afraid of who you are—”
“That’s not—”
“You’re afraid of lovin’ me—even though you do—and I just wanted to be with you! But imagine my shock when I come home one night and find your husband sleepin’ on our couch. So yes, Sharon, I walked out that night and I needed the next day to think about things, but I tried every day after for months to talk to you, and you wouldn’t talk to me—”
“Why should I have? It’s not like you stood around waiting for me. Wasn’t long before you were out with Fritz—”
“That was a misunderstanding, Sharon; it always has been—”
“You married him, Brenda!”
“Because I couldn’t marry you! What do I want from you, Sharon? I want you; I’ve always wanted you. But I won’t be a dirty little secret, and I won’t be with someone who’s ashamed to love me—”
“I am not ashamed to love you, Brenda Leigh.” Her hand reaches out for Brenda’s, intertwines their fingers.
This time it’s Brenda who tries to pull away, looks at the ground instead of at Sharon, “Well you coulda fooled me—”
But Sharon stops her, squeezing her hand and tugging her closer. She takes her free hand and runs it through blonde curls. “Look at me, honey,” she says softly.
Brenda’s breath hitches at the term of endearment, heart beating out of her chest, but she still won’t look at Sharon.
“Brenda Leigh,” Sharon says, running her hand down Brenda’s face to lift her chin, bringing tearful brown eyes to meet her own green. “Honey, look at me.” Brenda looks so small, so scared, but there’s hope in her eyes that thrills and terrifies Sharon all in one. Sharon isn’t sure what she wants here; she doesn’t know what will happen, but she does know that she needs to get this one point through to Brenda no matter what happens next. “I am not ashamed to love you, Brenda Leigh. I never was. I promise you that.”
“But—”
“I know I was scared and I-I do understand what that could have looked like, but honey, that had nothing to do with you.” Brenda still looks so small, so unsure that it breaks Sharon’s heart all over again. So Sharon does the only thing she can think of: she caresses Brenda’s face and leans in, softly guides Brenda closer and closer until their mouths are barely apart. “May I?” she asks, voice shaky, but determined.
Her answer comes with the smallest nod from Brenda, and then their lips touch. It’s different than before; this isn’t the passionate pull of a heated moment, but instead a promise—a confession. One that doesn’t need words, but is crystal clear simply through the press of Sharon’s lips against hers, Sharon’s hands in her hair, Sharon’s tongue against her lips and then in her mouth. This kiss is an admission of a love that runs so deep it exhilarates and frightens them both.
Brenda is the one who moves first, her hand at the small of Sharon’s back, letting it drift under her blouse and caress bare skin. Sharon is warm to the touch and so soft and Brenda needs to feel more. She lets her hand travel against Sharon’s side, to her stomach, feeling her abs twitch under her touch. She lets her hand slide higher and higher, until she’s got fingers toying with the lace at the bottom of Sharon’s bra. “Can I?” she asks.
Sharon pulls Brenda closer, twirls blonde hair in her fingers just the way Brenda likes, takes one hand and brings it to Brenda’s, guiding her to the clasp of her bra. It’s all the answer Brenda needs. She unclasps Sharon’s bra and ghosts her fingers over her naked breast.
Sharon gasps into her mouth, separating only for a moment to remove her own blouse and bra completely. She’s topless in Brenda’s office, and it’s the most beautiful sight Brenda has ever seen. It’s been five years since they’ve seen each other like this, and Sharon back then would never risk something like office sex.
Brenda notices the subtle differences in Sharon’s body, the little signs of aging: the way her breasts hang just the tiniest bit lower, the way the skin at her neck has thinned out just slightly, even the circles under her eyes that have only grown darker with the responsibility that comes with heading up a police division. She’s beautiful, Brenda thinks. Aging gracefully like fine wine, she’s somehow more beautiful now than five years ago. She wants to tell her that, but she doesn’t get the chance. Sharon’s lips are back on hers, Sharon’s tongue is back in her mouth, and Brenda decides she can tell Sharon how beautiful she is without words anyway. So she brings both hands to cup Sharon’s breasts, feeling their weight in her hands and reveling in the sound it elicits from Sharon. She lets her thumbs graze already hard nipples and feels Sharon’s gasp in her mouth, feels Sharon pull her hair in the most glorious way.
She wants to do more, wants to let her fingers drift lower, to feel the softness of Sharon’s sensitive inner thighs, feel the wetness she knows is waiting for her—just for her—but she also knows that she’d said something earlier that she’d meant: I won’t be a dirty little secret. And more than that, she’ll never make Sharon hers; Sharon deserves so much more than that. So Brenda lets her hands fall from Sharon’s breasts and feels the sigh of disappointment breathed into her own mouth. She kisses Sharon with all the love she has, conveying everything, holding nothing back, and then she pulls away. The hardest thing is seeing Sharon lean in for more and having to deny her. It only gets worse when she sees the look in Sharon’s eyes after; when she watches Sharon cross her arms in an idle attempt at modesty.
“We’re more than this, Sharon,” Brenda says, gently taking one of Sharon’s hands and tangling their fingers together. “I won’t make you the other woman.” She brings Sharon’s hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back. “I love you too much.”
She feels Sharon tense. “You’re saying I didn’t—”
“No, that’s not what I…you’re right, Sharon. It’s different. Your marriage and mine, it’s…it’s different.”
“So what now?” Sharon reaches down to grab her shirt and bra. Brenda lets her disentangle their hands to redress and is pleased when Sharon reaches for her again once she’s covered.
“I don’t know, baby.”
Sharon’s eyes close and she bites her lip at the nickname. It’s been so long. When she finally opens her eyes, she knows her own are baring her soul. But she can see Brenda’s soul in her eyes, too, and if she doesn’t say this now she knows she’ll regret it, “I love you.”
Tears fall from Brenda’s eyes and she pulls Sharon to her, pressing their lips together. It’s chaste for them, but it’s enough.
When they part, Sharon has tears running down her cheeks. Brenda kisses them away as best she can.
“I don’t know what to do,” Sharon cries.
Brenda pulls Sharon to her, holds her close, lets Sharon bury her face in her neck and sob.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby.” Brenda kisses the top of Sharon’s head. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out.”
Is it another stalemate? A point for them both? If this is it, if this is what finally brings them back together, then it definitely has to be a point for them both—more than that, a win for them both.
Then again, does it even matter anymore? With Sharon in her arms, Brenda finds that it really doesn’t, at least not to her, and Sharon’s not even thinking about the score anymore at all.
* * *
“There’s something I have to tell you,” Sharon says.
They’re at her condo tonight, in bed already. It’s been three months, and still she’s surprised every night that their sleeping arrangements haven’t changed.
Jack used to spoon Sharon, and after the first few years, she’d only felt suffocated by it. She’d thought maybe that feeling would carry over, but with Brenda it’s different. They hold each other each night. Brenda typically lays on her back with Sharon curled into her, head resting against her chest. They both keep an arm across the other’s hip. Sometimes throughout the night, Brenda will shift on her side, but it’s always facing Sharon; Sharon always wakes up to Brenda’s beautiful face just an inch away from hers and always ready for a kiss.
Brenda’s arm around Sharon tightens. “Should I be worried?”
“I should’ve told you sooner, but I—”
Sharon is shaking now; Brenda can feel it. “Baby, it’s okay.” She presses a kiss to Sharon’s hair. “Just tell me.”
“I’m still technically married.” She can feel Brenda stiffen, so before she can leave, she continues, “We’ve been separated for over a decade; I haven’t even seen him in years. I just…never got divorced.” She can feel Brenda relax a little. That’s a good sign. “Say something—please?”
Brenda takes a moment. Then, “Why?”
“He ran off,” Sharon says. "Had a drinking problem, a gambling problem, a sleeping around problem; at first I didn’t know where he’d gone. I had two young kids and no interest in dating and then…it just never mattered.”
“It never mattered? Sharon—”
“There were financial issues, religious issues, and…maybe I’ve let him in again once or twice over the years when he did decide to come back and I was feeling vulnerable and alone.”
She feels Brenda squeeze her gently, comfortingly. “Sharon—”
“And I’m a Catholic,” she says wearily, weakly, as if it just explains it all. “I go to church, my parents are Catholic—divorce just isn’t done; especially when children are involved. It was just…easier this way.”
Brenda takes that in and says, “I do know a bit about how that works, and I-I can’t help but ask…if you’re not okay with gettin’ divorced, how are you okay with datin’ a woman?”
“This is new for me; you know that—”
“Yeah, but, Sharon—”
“Brenda Leigh, there are some things I just can’t explain.” It’s not a sufficient answer, she knows that, but Brenda is still here, holding her, caressing her. “I don’t know how this all works,” she admits. “I don’t know how we go about this.” She looks up into Brenda’s eyes, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I do know that I love you, Brenda Leigh.”
Brenda’s breath hitches at the admission. “Sharon—”
“You don’t have to say it back; I know I just dropped a bomb on you—”
She’s cut off by Brenda’s lips against hers; Brenda’s tongue demanding entrance into her mouth. The kiss is sloppy and passionate and Brenda pulls Sharon on top of her. “I love you, too, baby,” Brenda says, pulling her down for another kiss. “So much.”
Brenda lifts up a thigh and presses it just right between Sharon’s legs.
“Oh, honey,” Sharon moans, trailing kisses from Brenda’s mouth down her neck, across her chest.
They’ve already gone a round tonight, so there are no clothes to remove; Brenda’s breasts are ready and waiting for her attention. When she takes a nipple into her mouth, Brenda moans and arches her back, presses her thigh more firmly against Sharon.
A phone ringing causes them both to jump.
“Nooo,” Brenda whines, “No, no, no.”
Sharon reluctantly rolls off Brenda and picks a phone up off the nightstand. She holds it out for Brenda. “Yours, honey.”
Brenda dramatically throws an arm across her face as she answers, “Chief Johnson…Uh huh…Uh huh…Yes, Will, I got it…Yeah…I’ll be there soon.”
By the time Brenda hangs up, Sharon is already in her closet, pulling out some of the clothes Brenda keeps there for nights like this.
Brenda comes over and wraps her arms around her from behind; she kisses Sharon’s bare shoulder. “Can I wear somethin’ of yours?” she asks.
At first Sharon doesn’t know what to say.
Brenda takes the silence as reason to continue, “I’m not saying we out ourselves—especially through clothing—just something subtle. I wanna feel close to you tonight.”
“Take your pick,” Sharon says.
Brenda takes a moment, going through the clothes Sharon already pulled out for her. She decides wearing one of her own dresses is easiest—she goes with the longer, quarter sleeve, pink floral one and pairs it with one of Sharon’s black blazers. It’s plain and still her style, but smells like Sharon and gives Brenda the comfort she wishes she could have in bed right now.
“How do I look?” Brenda asks, once dressed.
Sharon—still naked, making it even harder for Brenda to focus on anything else—comes closer and pulls Brenda into a kiss. “Mmm, you look good in my clothes,” she says. “Are you coming back here after?”
Brenda looks up hesitantly from grabbing her purse. “Is that okay?”
“Of course it is. My home is your home.”
Brenda’s response is a quick kiss before she checks her makeup in the mirror.
“It really could be, you know,” Sharon says, her voice gone soft.
“What, baby?”
“I mean…you could live here…if you wanted—”
She’s cut off by a deep kiss. “Sharon Raydor, are you askin’ me to move in with you?” Brenda’s voice is southern and flirty and it really makes Sharon wish Brenda wasn’t on her way out the door right now.
“I am.”
Brenda’s smile is bright and big. “Then my answer is yes,” she says before a kiss. “I could stay here and kiss you all night, baby, but I really have to go.”
Sharon gives her a quick kiss. “Go be brilliant,” she says. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
Brenda tries the word out, “Home.” It sounds amazing in reference to Sharon and the condo. She gives Sharon a final peck. “Love you. See ya later.”
As she walks through the condo, to the door, she hears Sharon say, “Love you, too, honey. Be safe.”
* * *
Sharon arrives home that night and immediately opens a bottle of Chardonnay. It’s a bottle of her favorite—one she’s been saving for a special occasion. Tonight, she decides, qualifies. With so much on her mind and so much to unpack, she damn right deserves her favorite wine.
Because she’d kissed Brenda Leigh again tonight. So much more than that, they’d laid it all out on the table for each other—their past hurt, their present feelings, and the implications of their hope for a future. There’s so much still to consider, but her heart flutters even at the thought of just the possibility of their reconciliation.
After their admissions, Brenda had held her until they’d been interrupted by Sergeant Gabriel, there to tell Brenda that Major Crimes had landed a case.
They’d looked at each other then, makeup ruined, tears staining both their cheeks, and they’d burst into laughter that turned into more tears that ended in a kiss.
Luckily Brenda keeps makeup in her office, and she’d done her best to quickly clean them both up, make them both presentable again. Sharon doesn’t know why exactly, but there was something so intimate about having Brenda apply her makeup; about sitting still for Brenda on her desk as she leaned in close and used her own products on Sharon’s face with care.
Then she’d left with an, “I love you,” that Brenda returned, a chaste kiss, and another promise from Brenda that they’d figure this out.
Sharon settles herself on her couch. Brenda Leigh still loves her. That thought keeps replaying itself in her mind. She knows Brenda is married, she knows she’s still married herself, but Brenda had been so upfront: I’ll divorce my husband when you divorce yours.
She has to admit, she’s never even considered divorcing Jack. Especially not after things ended with Brenda. But now? It’s been over 15 years since they’ve been together; she hasn’t seen him since he left that night five years ago. If it means she and Brenda get another chance together? Then yes—yes, she’ll divorce her husband.
As thrilled as she is at this prospect of her and Brenda Leigh, she also does understand the gravity of it. She can’t—won’t—play it the same as last time. For the rest of time now, Sharon will remember the moment Brenda admitted to thinking Sharon was ashamed to love her. It’s a memory that will haunt her forever; will be one of her lowest moments in life. She’ll never forgive herself for making Brenda feel that way.
Which means she has to do things differently this time. They have to be open about their relationship. When all is said and done, they’ll have to go public. It’s a terrifying prospect, but not as terrifying as the thought of never getting this second chance with Brenda Leigh.
Which brings about its own set of complications—especially when, ever since the announcement of the need for a new Chief of Police, she’s had this unrelenting, nagging idea that Brenda should apply. It’s crazy, she knows, but Sharon had been so impressed with Brenda on the OIS case Gabriel had been involved in, and she’s been secretly keeping professional tabs on her since. Brenda really is an impressive Police Officer. And she would make a wonderful Chief.
Her only concern had been herself—would Brenda be too biased to be her boss? This Ally Moore case had given her reason to initially think the answer might be yes, but she doesn’t think that anymore. Regardless of how their personal lives play out, Sharon does believe Brenda capable of being impartial towards her—once they sort this all out.
She’s not sure Brenda will even want to be Chief of Police, but god the LAPD would benefit so much from her. The process is moving fast already with Pope turning out to be a top contender. She knows the timing is weird, but she can’t pass this opportunity up. She’s going to have to bring it up to Brenda sooner rather than later.
She falls asleep on the couch that night, dreaming of Brenda Leigh. Actually, it’s a text from none other than Brenda herself that wakes her up the next morning.
Just checking in.
It makes Sharon feel smitten like a schoolgirl, responding immediately, I’m all right. How are you, Brenda Leigh?
It’s a moment before she gets an answer; Brenda has clearly typed, deleted, and retyped her response, Busy, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Another text comes in, I want to take you dinner. A quick pause before, No strings. Just to talk. I think we should talk.
Sharon doesn’t even need to think about it, I’d like that.
Tonight?
Don’t you have a case?
I’m hoping to have it closed by then.
Okay then.
Brenda smiles at the response. I’ll tell you the time later? Once I have a better idea how long I’ll be here?
That sounds good.
Good. Talk to you later, Sharon. Have a good day.
You too, Brenda Leigh.
It’s still so easy with Brenda that Sharon almost can’t believe it. How is that nothing has really changed between them in five years apart? She can’t fully understand it, but she’s also not going to question it too much. They’re going to dinner, and she’s looking forward to it.
She’ll admit that she’s still preparing for a cancellation—not because she doesn’t trust Brenda or because she thinks Brenda isn’t going to prioritize her, but because it’s prone to happen in their line of work whether either of them likes it or not. Murders and shootings don’t stop just because they have dinner plans; they’ve both always understood that.
Even still, Sharon goes about getting ready for her day with an air of excitement. She’s got a good feeling about this.
* * *
It’s not uncommon for Sharon to be awakened by the sound of a ringing phone these days, but what is a little unusual is that the phone is hers, not Brenda’s.
“Yours or mine?” Brenda asks, barely conscious.
“Mine,” Sharon says.
Brenda hums and closes her eyes again.
Sharon sleepily presses a kiss to Brenda’s chest and gently pushes at her waist, trying to roll out of her arms. It’s no use; Brenda’s hold on her only tightens instinctively, curling Sharon closer into her side.
Sharon kisses the corner of her mouth. Then whispers in her ear, “Honey, I have to get that.”
Still mostly asleep, Brenda groans, but releases her hold on Sharon.
Sharon finally rolls free and grabs her still ringing phone off the bedside table. “Raydor,” she says, voice still sleep-filled. But what’s said on the other line is like a splash of cold water and has her sitting up, ready to listen. “What did you just say?…Are you certain?…No! No, of course I’ll handle it…Just—don’t do anything until I get there…I’m on my way.”
One of the things Sharon still finds endearing about Brenda is her ability to fall back asleep so quickly. She’s barely even off the phone, but when she turns to tell Brenda she has to go, the blonde is soundly asleep, the early morning sun shining golden on her pale skin.
Sharon leans over to press a kiss against her hair. Brenda stirs, but only for a moment, her hand reaching out for Sharon. “I have to go, honey,” Sharon says softly.
Brenda only hums, still sleeping.
“I’ll take care of this,” she says. “I promise.” She presses another kiss to Brenda’s hair. Then to her lips. “I love you.”
Still mostly asleep, Brenda mumbles, “Mmm, love you, too, baby.”
Reluctantly, Sharon gets out of bed and readies herself for work. It’s going to be a long day.
* * *
Brenda’s case keeps her out all night—all for the better anyway, she thinks. She’s not sure she could have gone home and gone to sleep in the same bed as Fritz after kissing Sharon tonight anyway.
A body’s been found tangled in some electrical wires outside his apartment building. Local police had held the scene and the woman sleeping in the man’s apartment until Brenda and Major Crimes arrived. Turns out the woman has been having an affair with the victim—who was her and her husband’s contractor.
It’s around lunchtime when Brenda finds herself with a spare half an hour at best while she waits for results from the morgue. Assignments given to her squad, Brenda closes herself in her office. It’s her first time sitting down since she texted Sharon this morning.
Now that she finally has a moment to herself, Brenda can’t help but notice the irony. Of course she lands an infidelity case today—just after she and Sharon had…whatever you want to call it. Just the thought of Sharon sends butterflies to Brenda’s stomach.
Sharon. Sharon with her gorgeous green eyes and soft touches. Sharon with her confessions of love and her ability to drive Brenda more mad than anyone else ever has—about work and about their relationship. Sharon with her wet tears and her face vulnerable. Sharon who had been topless in her office looking more beautiful than anything Brenda has ever seen.
Brenda doesn’t know exactly what happens now, but she does know one thing—something that has her picking up her phone and dialing a number she doesn’t use frequently.
“Hi, DDA Hobbs, this is Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson.”
“No, uh, this isn’t about any case actually, it’s just I, well, I have a favor to ask you…No, no, no. This is more of a personal nature…Well, you see, I was wonderin’ if you could give me the name of a, well, of a—a divorce attorney…No, nothin’ happened exactly, just, well, it’s just somethin’ I need to do.”
Brenda grabs a pen and flips over a random piece of paper on her desk.
“Uh huh…Kristina Weiss…Okay…Okay.” She writes a number down as Andrea tells it to her. “Okay. Thank you so, so much…And DDA Hobbs? Do you think, well, do you think maybe we could keep this discussion between us?…Thank you…Bye now.”
Brenda hangs up the phone and looks down at the number she scrawled. This is it. Another divorce. Her parents will be devastated—especially when they learn she left her husband for a woman; maybe she can leave that part out.
She’s getting ahead of herself maybe; she is aware of that. But if Sharon wants her back, then she’ll have her; Brenda doesn’t want to have a husband standing in the way of that. And even if Sharon won’t take her back, she knows now she still can’t stay married to Fritz. Not when she’s in love with Sharon.
And just like that, she knows she’s made the right decision. She can wait for Sharon; honestly, she’s been waiting for Sharon all these years anyway.
With that thought, she dials the number Andrea gave her. She gets the woman’s voicemail, so she leaves a message.
“Hi Miss Weiss, my name is Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson, LAPD. DDA Andrea Hobbs gave me your number. I seem to be in need of a divorce attorney, and I was hoping you could help me. Give me a call back when you can. Thank you so much. Bye.”
It’s a heavy weight on Brenda’s shoulders, this impending divorce, but it’s what she needs to do; it’s what she wants.
* * *
It’s not long before Sharon finds herself sitting across from Pope in his office.
“You need to do something about this,” he demands, slamming paperwork down in front of her.
Sharon doesn’t need to look at it; she already knows what it says, has already read it a million times. It’s a complaint about Brenda—an “anonymous” complaint of “conduct unbecoming of an officer”.
“My hands are tied,” Sharon says. “Someone within the LAPD lodged this complaint and, as you well know, Internal Affairs now must investigate it.”
“You’ve met Chief Johnson, you know this is unprompted—”
Sharon speaks carefully—one wrong move and she gives their relationship away and gets herself taken off this case; she can’t allow that. “What I know is that a complaint has been filed and I must take it seriously.”
“What if I told you I know who it’s from?”
“And you think I don’t? But it doesn’t matter—you can’t tamper with an anonymous complaint; you know that.”
Pope sighs and sits with defeat. “What do you have to do?”
“I’d like to speak with everyone on Chief Johnson’s team. Let’s see what they think about her conduct.”
“The complaint isn’t about her internal conduct, but with the DA’s Office and the FBI.”
“Right. And who better to speak to that conduct than the officers who work under her every day—who have seen her interact with other branches of law enforcement?” Sharon stands to leave, but Pope stops her.
“There’s been some…tension,” he says, “Within Chief Johnson’s squad.”
Sharon almost laughs at that. She knows all about Brenda’s squad and its issues, but she also knows how much Brenda cares for them. Knowing her girlfriend the way she does, she has the utmost faith that that care is reciprocated—whether Brenda’s squad is typically willing to admit to it or not.
“If the allegations are false, then you—and Chief Johnson—have nothing to worry about.” And with that, Sharon takes her leave, directly on her way to Brenda’s office.
* * *
Regretfully, Brenda’s case is still very much up in the air and she’s not sure she’s going to be able to make dinner. She’s pleasantly surprised that when she calls to tell Sharon this, her response is, “Why don’t you just come over whenever you have the time? You can wake me up; I don’t care how late it is.” Brenda asks multiple times if Sharon is sure—she doesn’t want to disturb her, but Sharon insists on it. Apparently she wants to see Brenda as much as Brenda wants to see her. That can’t be a bad sign.
So hours later, just after midnight, after sending her squad home for a few hours rest before continuing this case tomorrow, Brenda texts Sharon as she’s leaving the precinct to make sure she’s still up for the visit. Sharon’s response is immediate, and tells her to drive safe on her way over.
She’s never been more grateful than she is now for the fact that she’d started keeping spare clothes in her office a few years ago. She doesn’t have much, but she does have a pink floral dress—the one she wore the night Sharon first told her she loves her. It’s perfect. All that’s missing is Sharon’s blazer to wear over it. Maybe, depending on how things go, she’ll be able to take it with her when she leaves. She quickly throws it on and drives to Sharon’s condo.
Sharon still lives in the same place—the place they’d lived together. It’s weird being there for the first time in so long, but she’s also excited. She’s excited to see Sharon. She knocks on the door and Sharon opens it instantly, sans makeup and clad in a pair of black yoga pants, an old red top, and a grey cashmere cardigan. The sight takes Brenda’s breath away. She hasn’t seen Sharon like this—so…domestic—in years.
“Baby, you look beautiful,” she says.
Sharon laughs and looks down, embarrassed. “I look old and tired.”
Brenda shakes her head. “No, you look like you.”
That makes Sharon blush. So she turns the tables and looks Brenda over. “I remember this dress,” she says; Brenda swoons. “You clean up well, Brenda Leigh,” she says, mirth in her eyes. “I was expecting the same clothes from last night.”
“I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. I keep clothes in my office now.”
Sharon leans in close, lips brushing Brenda’s ear as she speaks, “Wouldn’t have mattered what you wore, honey, you’re always beautiful to me.” Then she presses a kiss to Brenda’s cheek.
She starts to pull back, but Brenda stops her with a gentle hand on her waist. “Can I kiss you?”
Sharon’s beautiful smile is answer enough, so Brenda leans in, pressing her lips to Sharon’s.
“Come on,” Sharon whispers against her lips. “I made you dinner.”
Sharon takes her by the hand and leads her to the couch where she sees a plate of spaghetti and a small glass of Merlot—enough that she won’t have to worry about being too tipsy to work if something comes in urgently.
“This is too much, Sharon.”
“You need to eat, Brenda Leigh, and I did want us to talk.”
They make idle small talk at first, just enjoying each other’s company while Brenda eats. Sharon asks about Brenda’s case, but Brenda asks if they can put a pin in that for now; she’d rather not have the more serious conversations through mouthfuls of pasta.
So they talk about Brenda’s parents and Sharon’s children and the new personal joys they’ve each discovered in the last five years.
Once Brenda sets her plate down on the coffee table, Sharon broaches the elephant in the room. “So where would you like to start, Brenda Leigh?” she asks. “With work or with us?”
Brenda reaches beside her to hold Sharon’s hand. They’re sitting close, but not touching—until now. “I meant what I said yesterday, Sharon: I’m still in love with you. I never stopped.” They both instinctively turn to face each other more directly then. Brenda can see her words affect Sharon; can see the way her eyes grow wet and her breath gets shaky; she feels Sharon squeeze her hand. “And if it’s what you want, too, then I want us to be together again.”
Sharon lets out a sob, brings her free hand to cover her mouth.
“No, baby, please don’t cry, I—”
She’s cut off by Sharon quickly leaning forward and kissing her—hard and passionate and unyielding. Then, as quickly as it started, Sharon goes back to her side of the couch to look Brenda in the eyes as she says, “Yes,” voice hoarse with emotion. There are tears on her cheeks, but she’s smiling. “Yes, Brenda Leigh, I want to be back together.”
It’s Brenda’s turn to cry now, wiping her eyes with her sleeve to keep from completely ruining her makeup. She takes a moment to compose herself, then says, “My victim was sleepin’ with a married woman.” She sees Sharon tense. “My best suspect right now is her husband. I don’t-I don’t want anythin’ like that for us, you know? So I…I left a message for a divorce attorney today.”
Sharon gasps in surprise; she squeezes Brenda’s hand.
“I’m not makin’ you the other woman, baby. I’m gettin’ divorced. I’m gonna tell Fritz soon; I just need to figure out how, and—”
Sharon cuts her off with a kiss. “I’ve thought about it a lot, too, and,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m going to get divorced as well.”
“You don’t have to do that—”
“No, I want to. You were right all those years ago, and you were right yesterday. I’ve always been afraid. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, honey. I just want you.”
There are tears in Brenda’s eyes as she looks at Sharon, gently rubs her thumb against her hand. “Well all right then.”
“Now that that’s settled,” Sharon says, “You’re case—tell me about it.”
That’s how Brenda finds herself cuddled on the couch with Sharon, eyes closed and curled into Sharon’s side while soft fingers toy with her hair.
“You’ve been having an affair how long?” Sharon asks gently.
“Less than a month,” Brenda responds, wrapping an arm across Sharon’s stomach. “But I sort of fell into it because you’ve been away a lot.”
“So I want to kill you?”
“Not me—my boyfriend.”
Sharon smirks. “You mean your husband.”
Brenda looks up to give her a glare; it’s soothed by the gentle scratch of fingertips against her scalp.
“Why not the both of you?”
“We were on the roof for a while, but you waited until my boyfriend was alone to shoot him.”
“And you’re sure my motive is jealousy?”
“Well if you wanted to kill me, you would have. You don’t wanna kill me, you wanna kill my boyfriend.”
“Mmm. Yes I do.”
Brenda playfully pokes Sharon’s side. “Be serious, baby.”
“So if I don’t blame you for the affair, I have to blame the man who seduced you.”
“That’s right.” Brenda looks up at Sharon, batting her eyelashes. “But just so you know, I’d never blame the other woman.”
“Flatterer,” Sharon teases, pressing a kiss to Brenda’s hair. “Jealousy can provoke a crime of passion, but it can also arrive in stages. Like grief…”
“Shock…denial…rage…”
“Followed by gunshots to the head.”
“From a sniper rifle I still can’t find.”
“Which indicates planning on my part—and that I’m hoping to get away with it. So how did I react when you first told me about the affair? Was I cool, calm, and collected? Am I a crime of passion kind of woman, or cold and calculating?—How did I know your victim was going to be up on the roof alone at that time?”
Brenda takes a moment on that one. “Because somehow you knew what Mr. Beebe was going to be looking at through his telescope.”
“So how did I know that?” Sharon asks. “If I’m married to you, then why do I know what the man you’re having an affair with is up there to see?”
Brenda sits up, leans over, and kisses Sharon hard. “You’re brilliant, baby.” She kisses her again. “Absolutely brilliant.” Then she’s up and grabbing her things. “I gotta go. Love you!” she says on her way to the door. “Ooh—wait!” she exclaims, turning back around and rushing into Sharon’s bedroom.
Sharon looks on curiously until Brenda reappears with Sharon’s black blazer in her hands.
“Can I?” she asks softly.
Sharon smiles. “Of course you can.”
Brenda throws the blazer on, leans down to give Sharon a kiss, and rushes to the door. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, honey,” Sharon says.
And then Brenda’s gone, off to close her case.
* * *
Brenda leaves to work on a case of her own not long after Sharon. She’d been called out late last night to the scene of a movie producer dead in his hot tub. They’d done all they could for the night, and then she’d come home to Sharon—only for Sharon to roll out just a few hours later.
Her team is gathered in the murder room going over the evidence. She’s got a good team here and she knows it. It’s why she puts up with things like Provenza mocking her at the crime scene last night. They’re rough around the edges, but so is she. And they always do get the job done.
She’s in the middle of talking when Gabriel suspiciously walks out of the room. It only takes her a moment to see that Pope is waiting for him—has probably summoned him.
She wants to follow up on that, but she’s still in the middle of going over the evidence and giving out her orders, so she lets it go for now. But she’s not the only one who’s noticed how strange it is.
Gabriel isn’t back by the time she’s giving out immediate assignments, so she sends everyone else on their way and heads into her office. The only time she’ll have for herself is as long as it takes Lieutenant Flynn to bring the victim’s girlfriend in. She’ll use that time to go over everything even more on her own.
* * *
Brenda closes her case on the architect the next night—and is quickly called to another. It leaves little time for her to see, let alone talk to Sharon; less time for her to see or talk to Fritz.
It’s a blessing and a curse. She’s so busy, that she and Fritz are running opposite schedules—which is helpful in that she hasn’t had to worry about explaining to Fritz why she won’t sleep in the same bed as him; it’s unhelpful in the fact that she hasn’t found the time yet to tell him that she wants a divorce.
It takes nearly a week for an altercation to finally happen—and it definitely doesn’t go as planned. Brenda returns home from dinner with Sharon late. Very late. 2am late. She’d taken Sharon to an Italian restaurant in Malibu and they’d stayed until close at midnight. Then they’d gone for a short walk on the beach, holding hands, confessing love, and sharing chaste kisses.
When Brenda had driven Sharon home, they’d gotten a little distracted, spending another half hour in the car making out like teenagers before Sharon finally said goodbye and went up to her condo.
They haven’t slept together again yet. Brenda won’t until she’s officially separated. She won’t let their reconciliation be tainted by her marriage. She’s going to do this right by Sharon. But that doesn’t mean she’s opposed to a makeout session in her car.
So when Brenda gets home, she is exhausted. And she is in no mood to face her husband. He’s probably asleep anyway, Brenda thinks. So she goes into the kitchen, pours herself a glass of merlot, gets herself a bowl of popcorn, and heads to the living room couch. She places some paperwork on the coffee table for good measure, turns on the tv, and curls up on the couch. As she flips through the channels, she finds an old black and white movie on. It reminds her of Sharon—those movies are always her favorite—so that's what she watches until she falls asleep.
Which is how Fritz finds her the next morning. It’s him clearing his throat loudly, deliberately, that awakens Brenda.
“What?” she asks, bolting upright.
“Didn’t want to come to bed last night?” Fritz asks.
Brenda looks to the coffee table to confirm she actually did remember to splay out papers last night for show. “I’m sorry, Fritzi,” she says. “It’s this case we’re finishin’ up,” she lies.
“I get it,” Fritz says, raising his hands in defense. “Such a big case you forgot to call. Again.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Really? You couldn’t call, but I can tell exactly what you did when you got home. Poured a glass of wine,” he says, coming over to pick up her glass still on the coffee table for emphasis. “Had some popcorn…” He does the same with the bowl on the table. “Kept working on your case…” Again, he picks up the object in reference to prove his point. Then he points to her, “And fell asleep watching the tv—” He picks up the remote and places it back in its rightful home. “—Without even coming to tell me you were home.”
“It was late, Fritz—”
But Fritz isn’t listening. He’s too busy walking over to Brenda’s heels from last night—in the middle of the living room. “Oh. Let me ask you a question: are your shoes afraid of the dark?”
Brenda finally stands now, still in yesterday’s outfit. “No?”
He hands her the shoes. “Then could you put them in the closet please?” Then he walks away.
Brenda rolls her eyes, leaving the shoes on the table for now while she follows him into the kitchen to deal with…whatever this is.
“And is it too much to ask to at least put your dirty dishes in the sink after you use them?”
“I worked a 14 hour day yesterday; I was really tired when I got home. I’ll straighten up now. Why are you so mad?”
“I just told you,” he sighs, loudly and aggressively getting ready for work. “The house is a mess.”
Brenda scoffs. “But you seem extra upset.”
He doesn’t even give her an answer; he just huffs and walks out the door, slamming it behind him.
Brenda sighs as she sits herself back down on the couch. Well, maybe him being so mad at her isn’t the worst thing anyway. It’ll only make her asking for a divorce easier. Hopefully she’ll get the chance to do that next time before he walks out again.
* * *
“God, what now?” Provenza whines as Sharon enters the murder room.
“Hello, Lieutenant,” she says calmly. “Is Chief Johnson in?”
“She’s busy. Got a case.”
But Sharon is already making her way past him once he’s confirmed Brenda’s presence. She knocks lightly on the door.
It takes a moment, but Brenda opens the door with a snarled, “This better be good.” But then she sees Sharon, and her whole demeanor changes. “Lieutenant Raydor,” she says much gentler. “Please come in.”
As Sharon follows her inside, she hears Provenza behind her, asking the squad, “What in the hell was that?”
Brenda’s blinds are open, so they’re not fully in private, but it’s enough for Brenda to smile for a moment before admitting, “I’m really busy, baby, this case—”
“Brenda Leigh, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Brenda’s breath catches in her throat. “Last time you said that, you told me you’re married. If this is anything like that—”
“There’s been a complaint,” Sharon says calmly, not letting Brenda go any further on her spiraling train of thought.
Brenda looks relieved only for a moment. Then she’s confused.
“About you, honey.” Everything in Sharon wants to move closer to her, take Brenda’s hand in hers and squeeze tightly, comfortingly; take Brenda in her arms and kiss away this mess, but they’re not alone. “Someone put in an anonymous complaint about you.”
Brenda sighs and sits behind her desk. “Wh-what did it say?”
“Conduct unbecoming of an officer—in regards to the DA’s Office and the FBI.”
“But that’s—”
“Not our department; I know. But the complaint was placed by a member of the LAPD, so Internal Affairs must investigate it. Chief Pope specifically requested me.”
“What? Why?”
“I believe because he knows we know each other.”
Brenda laughs mirthlessly. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse. My own girlfriend—my secret girlfriend—investigatin’ me for poor conduct.”
“It’s better,” Sharon assures.
“I know you, baby, you won’t break the rules, not even for me.”
“No, but I know you, too, Brenda Leigh, and I know these accusations are petty and unwarranted. I’m going to prove it.” She walks around the left side of Brenda’s desk and opens her drawer.
Brenda looks down at her candy drawer; it’s not enticing enough. Not even her treasured chocolate can help now.
Still, Sharon reaches in, picks up a ding dong, and breaks it in half. “Share it with me?”
“I don’t share chocolate,” Brenda pouts.
Sharon tilts her head so they’re eye level. “Not even with me?” She’s got a little pout on her lips and if Brenda wasn’t so concerned about all this, she would tell Sharon that right now, she’s just about the cutest thing she’s ever seen.
Instead, Brenda throws up her hands in distress. “Well that’s not fair! There’s this whole thing and you’re you and-and—”
Sharon takes Brenda’s hand and forces half the ding dong into it. Then she reluctantly lets go. It’s the closest she can get right now to holding Brenda’s hand in comfort; she hopes it gets her point across. “Take a deep breath, Brenda Leigh, and take a bite of that. It’s all going to be okay.”
“But Sharon—”
“Do you trust me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then let me take care of this.” She takes a bite of her half the ding dong, gesturing for Brenda to do the same.
She does, and has to admit she does immediately feel at least a little better.
“I need to interview your detectives,” Sharon says.
Brenda’s eyes widen. “Baby, I don’t know that that’s such a good—”
Sharon takes a quick look around and then, as fast and discreetly as she can, she takes Brenda’s hand off her desk and positions their now joined hands out of sight, under the desk. She intertwines their fingers. “I know what I’m doing,” Sharon assures.
Brenda sighs and nods. She gently squeezes Sharon’s fingers. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, honey. I’ve got this. I promise.”
* * *
When Brenda arrives at work, the first thing she notices is Provenza staring at her suspiciously. “Can I help you, Lieutenant Provenza?” she asks.
“What’s she doing here?” Provenza asks.
“Who?”
He nods towards Brenda’s office. Through the open blinds, Brenda sees Sharon, standing in front of her desk, holding two cups of coffee.
Brenda can’t help the sappy smile that crosses her face.
“Well?” Provenza demands.
Brenda turns back to him. “Well, I-I’m not sure. Let me go find out.” And just like that, she’s on her way to her office.
“Well that was weird,” Flynn says.
“Weren’t they friends once?” Gabriel asks.
Provenza sighs dramatically, “Oh, no, not this again…”
Once inside her office, Brenda closes the door behind her and moves to shut the blinds.
“Good morning,” Sharon says, almost shy.
Once she has the blinds fully closed, Brenda walks over to Sharon and gives her a quick peck on the lips. “Mornin’, baby,” she says sweetly. “What are you doin’ here?” She sits down at her desk; Sharon sits across from her.
“I stopped for coffee on my way in, and I know how you love a mocha in the morning,” Sharon says, sliding one of the cups across the desk.
“You’re too good to me.”
“I just…I was thinking about you.”
Brenda reaches out to hold Sharon’s hand. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you, too, baby.”
“I do also have some official business I need to tend to,” Sharon says hesitantly.
“With me?”
“Yes.”
“‘Course. Whatever you need,” Brenda says easily. Then hesitates a moment before adding, “What exactly do you need?”
“Just to ask you some questions, that’s all.”
“Okaaay,” Brenda draws out the word, asking more than actually answering.
So Sharon starts asking questions. Questions Brenda knows she already knows a lot of the answers to. Questions about her employment history, about Major Crimes, about her relationship with Pope—that’s when she finally realizes what this is all about.
“Ohhh, you’re here investigatin’ Pope. I get it now. For the Chief position.”
“...Something like that. And Chief Pope created Major Crimes specifically to bring you to Los Angeles—”
“Major Crimes was just another name for a division that had been in operation for an entire year before I even arrived,” Brenda says. It’s a stretch; they both know it. Still she continues, “It was, um, not created specifically for me. It was designed to prevent the department from suffering through another crisis like it had with the OJ and Rampart investigations. And to Chief Pope’s credit, the division is performing exactly as designed.”
“That’s very diplomatic of you.”
Brenda takes a sip of coffee. “What else am I supposed to say, baby?”
Sharon ignores that question. “I’d like to see it in action.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Brenda Leigh, I know the timing for this is awkward, but there is something bigger at work here. In order to complete my objective, I need to see Major Crimes at work. I’d like to accompany you on your next investigation.”
“Sharon, I don’t know that—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then please trust me. Just for your next investigation—until tonight hopefully; then we can hit the pause button because I was hoping we could find time to do dinner tonight, but until then—I need us to be Captain Raydor and Deputy Chief Johnson, not Sharon and Brenda Leigh.”
“All right,” Brenda agrees. Reluctantly, she untwines her fingers from Sharon’s. “I don’t have a case right now, Captain Raydor, but I’ll let you know when I do. And I’d love to do dinner.”
“Thank you, Chief.” Sharon stands to leave, but Brenda stops her before she can get too far.
“Can we maybe take a pause now, too, Captain?” she asks. “I’d like to kiss you goodbye.”
Sharon walks back over to Brenda. Then leans down to kiss her. “I’ll see you later, honey.” Another kiss and a soft hand running through Brenda’s hair. “Thank you.” She starts to leave, but Brenda pulls her back in for one more kiss.
“Bye, baby,” Brenda says. Then she watches Sharon leave, unable to keep herself from admiring certain assets as she goes.
* * *
“Sergeant Gabriel, thank you for meeting with me,” Sharon says, sitting across from the Sergeant in her office.
“Of course, Lieutenant Raydor. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about Chief Johnson.”
Gabriel stiffens. “If this is about the complaint, I didn’t—”
“So you know about the complaint already?”
Gabriel sighs. “Chief Pope informed me about it.”
“And I suspect he told you Internal Affairs would be looking into it.”
“He did say that, yes.”
“Then tell me please, Sergeant, as someone who has worked with Chief Johnson since her arrival at the LAPD, what is your opinion on her conduct and on these allegations?”
“You’re right—I’ve observed Deputy Chief Johnson on every case that she’s worked, and I think the charges against her are small-minded, petty, and malicious. I’m ashamed of whoever may have filed them. Deputy Chief Johnson’s conduct produces results and solves cases. It is not unbecoming of an officer. That is my honest opinion, Ma’am.”
Sharon internally melts with relief. She was right; Brenda’s squad would protect her. “Thank you so much, Sergeant, for your statement. You’re free to go.”
“Is Chief Johnson still in trouble?”
“I have not yet closed the investigation, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Is there…is there anything else I can do?”
Sharon smiles at him—a real, true Sharon Raydor smile that most people at work are not privy to. But this man just spoke so highly of her girlfriend, and she is so grateful that he’s who Brenda has as her right-hand man. “Sergeant, you have done plenty. Really—thank you. I’ll handle the rest.”
* * *
Sharon is sitting in her office filling out the paperwork for Brenda’s Chief of Police application when there’s a knock on her door.
“Come in,” she says.
Sergeant Elliot peeks his head in. “Deputy Chief Johnson is here to see you, Captain.”
Sharon quickly throws some folders over the application. “Oh good! Send her in.”
Elliot nods and leaves.
A moment later, Brend enters. “He seemed less than thrilled to see me,” she notes.
“Mmm, now you’ve gotten a taste for what it feels like being me,” Sharon quips. “Come in.”
Brenda shuts the door behind her and comes further in. “I can’t kiss you,” she pouts. Sharon’s blinds are open, and closing them might look suspicious.
Sharon only smiles. “Captain Raydor and Chief Johnson until tonight, remember?”
“About that—that’s actually why I’m here. Caught a case. The guys are already on their way over.”
“I’ll grab my things,” Sharon says, already getting up.
In no time, they’re on their way out of FID and heading to their destination.
“Now, how exactly does tracking down someone’s nanny qualify as a major crime?” Sharon asks on the drive over once Brenda’s filled her in on the case.
“How exactly do you want me to answer that, Sharon? As Chief Johnson or as Brenda Leigh?”
Sharon takes a moment. “I’d like the truth.”
Brenda sighs. “The Diskens are friends of the Mayor. Chief Pope thinks getting on top of this early will be best for…all involved.”
“I see. Thank you, Chief, for being honest with me.”
* * *
All day, Brenda notices her squad acting suspicious—and Gabriel seems to be at the helm of it. Little powwows in the corner and everyone going silent when she enters the room. Everyone must know at this point, she realizes. She really does hope that Sharon is right about this and knows what she’s doing.
She’s already gone at it with Pope over this—how dare he not tell her? It only makes her more grateful for Sharon, who made sure to come and tell her and reassure her that it will all be okay. She’s still not completely sure it will be, but she does trust Sharon more than anything.
Still, she’s concerned when Pope approaches her with his new idea to make it all go away: for her to apologize.
She agrees to the meeting he proposes, but she’s still not certain what exactly she’ll do there. Honestly, she’s having a very difficult time with all this.
So much so, that when she’s alone with Gabriel she can’t help but ask, “Have I been a difficult boss? Have I offended you in some way without knowing it?”
He’s quick to answer, “No. Well, at first, you know? I don’t know, I guess I’ve kind of gotten used to you. You did pay me a compliment once.”
Brenda cringes. “Once?”
“Yeah. Yeah, a couple weeks ago you said, ‘Good work.’ Look, I know this is a mess now, but you’ll find your way through it. Eventually. I know you will. I know you will.”
Brenda nods as Gabriel starts the car.
“You’ve got people looking out for you, Chief,” he adds. “Even in…unexpected places.”
She rests just a bit easier at those words. She knows he’s talking about Sharon.
Still, she takes his comments to heart—has she really only ever complimented him once?
It’s later that evening, when they’re wrapping up for the night, that she turns to them all. “Uh, I…I just wanna say that, uh, there’s been a complaint lodged against me—an anonymous complaint with Internal Affairs—and there’s a meetin’ about it tomorrow, and I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She takes a moment, calming her nerves as best she can, looking around at her squad. “Interrogatin’ people, gettin’ to the truth, and, uh, knowing the right thing to do politically are two very different things. In fact, to do either of them very well, you have to pretty much ignore one of them altogether—which is what I’ve done. So, now, like through, um, most of my life, my career—which is the best argument for reincarnation I can think of—I’m in trouble again. And, um, I don’t know if I’ll even be here tomorrow evening. And if I’m not, I just wanted…to tell you all, uh, how much I’ve enjoyed working with you. Y’all are just…just really great people.” She wishes there was more to say, but she’s never been good at this part of interpersonal relationships. She can tell they’ve heard her, though; they’ve taken in what she’s just said. That has to be enough. “Okay. I’ll see y'all in the morning then.”
She leaves quickly after that. She feels near tears, and she won’t cry in front of her squad. She’ll save that for home, safely in Sharon’s arms. She owes Sharon some kind words, too; she knows that. She also knows that somehow, everything is easier and comes more naturally with Sharon.
* * *
Watching Brenda at work only makes Sharon fall more in love with her. She’s brilliant at what she does.
They start at the Diskens’ residence, asking the family the usual kinds of questions for the circumstances. But Brenda has a finesse about it that gets people talking differently, gets people talking more.
Soon enough, they’re on their way to Adriana’s apartment. Again, Sharon is impressed. One of the things she’s always loved most about Brenda is her ability to push the boundaries of rules without breaking them. She knows the rulebook almost as well as Sharon does, but instead of simply adhering to it, she finds ways to use it that allow her to make the moves she wants—even if they’re out of the ordinary.
When Adriana isn’t answering the door and her landlord is hours away, Brenda quickly moves to jimmy the lock.
“Chief,” Sharon warns.
“Yes, Captain, what is it?” Brenda asks sweetly, like she’s doing nothing wrong.
“Are you going to enter a private residence without a search warrant?”
“No, I’m doing a public safety check. Regardless of…everything else, Chief Pope has declared this a critical missing, and it is my duty to enter the premises if I suspect that a member of the public is not safe.”
And just like that, Brenda has the door unlocked. Sharon can’t help but smile with pride: that’s her girlfriend.
* * *
Sharon has every intention of beating Brenda home today—of cooking her dinner and opening a bottle of her favorite Merlot and holding her close and covering her in kisses so she never forgets that she always has someone on her side.
Instead, just as she’s about to leave for the day, she gets a call from Sergeant Gabriel, asking her to meet him in Brenda’s murder room.
When she arrives, Brenda’s entire squad is there waiting for her. She already knows Brenda is on her way home—she’d gotten a text confirming as much just ten minutes ago—so why is her squad all still here?
“These are for Pope,” Provenza says, tossing a pile of papers in front of her.
Sharon looks them over thoroughly, tears forming behind her eyes as she realizes what’s going on. She has to hide it, though. These people don’t know what Brenda really is to her, and they can’t yet. But oh, she wishes she could properly thank them each for this and really tell them how much it means to her—to them both.
“I thought you should know,” Gabriel says. “Might help with your investigation.”
“And we’d all like to give statements,” Flynn says. “Chief Johnson is…well, she can be a pain in the ass, but she does good work. She, uh, she’s one of the good ones.”
“One of the good ones,” Sharon says. “I think I’ll leave it at that, if it’s all the same to you.”
They all laugh as Flynn nods.
“I want to thank you all for your honesty,” Sharon says after taking statements from the rest of them. “I believe this investigation will soon be closed.” She stands to leave, but stops as she’s walking through the door. “Does Chief Johnson know about this?”
“No,” Gabriel says.
“Thought it would make a helluva surprise,” Provenza adds.
Sharon smiles. “I’m sure it will.”
* * *
In an unfortunate turn of events, Adriana is found brutally murdered in her apartment. It takes everything in Sharon not to reach out for Brenda at the sight. She sees a lot in FID, but never anything like this. She really doesn’t know how Brenda always does it all the time.
Soon enough, they learn from Morales that Adriana wasn’t just murdered, but also brutally raped. Again, in the morgue, Sharon has to use all her inner strength to keep from wrapping herself in Brenda’s arms and sobbing.
Brenda can feel Sharon’s distress, but knows she can’t do anything about it immediately—not here, not right now, not with witnesses. It’s only after she sends Gabriel off to notify the family that she discreetly leads Sharon into the nearest ladies room and locks the door behind them.
“I know,” Brenda soothes, pulling Sharon into her arms and gently combing fingers through her hair. “I know, baby, I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Sharon cries.
“You don’t ever apologize for havin’ feelings during a case,” Brenda says. “Especially one like this.”
Sharon only nods, keeping her face buried in Brenda’s neck as she cries. They stay like that for a little while, until Brenda reluctantly says, “I have to go talk to the family soon.” She’s still gently stroking Sharon’s hair with one hand, rubbing her back with the other.
“What family?” Sharon asks, and Brenda can hear the heartbreak in her voice.
“The one that cared about her,” Brenda says gently. “She may not have had blood family, but she did have people. Adriana and those people deserve justice for this. That’s the only way to get through it, baby: you do what you can to bring them to justice. That’s how you keep coming back every day.”
Sharon finally looks up at Brenda, green eyes meeting brown. “I love you,” she says. “And I am so proud of you and the work that you do.”
Brenda can feel her sincerity, feel the love radiating off her. “I love you, too, baby.” She presses a kiss to Sharon’s lips and uses gentle fingertips to wipe the mascara streaks from her eyes. Then she takes her hand and leads her to the door.
It’s with a final kiss to the back of Sharon’s hand that Brenda unlocks the door and they step back out into the world, both hoping the day comes soon where they can do it with hands still entwined.
* * *
“Honey, I brought—” Sharon starts as she enters their condo, but stops short when she sees Brenda sitting on the couch, gesturing for Sharon to be quiet with a finger to her lips.
“No, Mama, it’s just the tv.”
Understanding the situation, Sharon puts the takeout down and sits beside Brenda as quietly as she can. Immediately, Brenda curls herself into Sharon’s side.
“I should let y’all go to sleep there,” Brenda says into the phone. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” She gently rests a hand against Sharon’s stomach, drawing idle patterns. “Okay, I love you, too…Bye bye…Bye.” Brenda hangs up and turns further into Sharon, resting her head on her shoulder, and leaning up for a kiss.
Sharon wraps both arms around Brenda, holding her close. “What did your parents say?”
“My daddy wants to fly here and punch somebody.”
“Understandable, but what if it doesn’t come to that?”
Brenda scoffs. “Pope wants me to apologize—to DDA Powell and the FBI and Captain Taylor. He set up a meetin’ for me to do it and everything.”
“I know,” Sharon admits. “I’ve been invited to be there as well.”
Brenda sighs. “Of course you have.”
“And that is one option,” Sharon muses, fingers tangling in blonde curls. “Or there’s another.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Brenda Leigh, I closed my investigation tonight.”
Brenda shoots up to look at Sharon. “Wh-what?”
Sharon presses a kiss to Brenda’s hair before getting up and retrieving some files from her bag. “I was held up at work this evening because your squad wanted to meet with me and give me these.” She hands Brenda a manila envelope with the papers Provenza gave her earlier.
Brenda reads through them with tears in her eyes. “These are—”
Sharon reaches out to hold Brenda’s hand. “Resignations from every single member of your squad—effective immediately—if you are transferred or put on leave in regard to any disciplinary action relating to this anonymous complaint.”
Tears are falling from Brenda’s eyes now. “Sharon—”
“And I’ve collected statements from each of them—all detailing how wonderful you are at your job and how your professional conduct produces results.” Sharon sits back down next to Brenda, handing her another manila envelope, this one containing said statements. “‘I could only be so lucky to one day perfect the same professional conduct as Deputy Chief Johnson,’” Sharon recites. “That one was Daniels. Given that, and the other statements from your squad, I have found that these allegations against you are completely unfounded. It is not required that Police Officers be kind and yielding, Brenda Leigh. You may carry a harshness to your conduct, but anyone with a squad who has only such high compliments to pay you, and is willing to resign if you go down for this, clearly does not possess conduct unbecoming of an officer. You’re cleared, honey. Pope was gone for the day before I could officially tell him, but the paperwork is all filled out and filed. I’ll notify him first thing in the morning.”
Brenda puts the papers down and crawls into Sharon’s lap, wrapping her arms around her and showering her with kisses—her lips, her face, her neck; everywhere she can reach.
“You’re cleared,” Sharon whispers against Brenda’s hair. “You go into that meeting tomorrow, and you show them all who you really are. And I’ll be there cheering you on the entire time.”
Sharon’s words only make Brenda cry harder; make her kiss Sharon harder. “Thank you, baby. Thank you so much.”
* * *
When they meet with the family, Brenda can still feel Sharon’s uneasiness—even as she takes notes upon notes on…well, Brenda’s honestly not sure what exactly Sharon is taking notes on throughout this case; she won’t tell her, no matter how many times she asks.
Brenda gets as much as she can from them without it seeming like she’s suspicious. Her next move is to instruct her squad to retrace all the steps they know of Adriana’s last day. Until then, they’ve each got their own assignments to be working on for the case. While they’re all busy with that, she pulls Sharon into her office.
“Maybe you should check in with FID,” she gently suggests.
“Trying to get rid of me already?”
Brenda reaches out to take Sharon’s hand, but then quickly lets go; her blinds are still open. “I know how hard this is for you. It’s different in FID; you’re not used to Major Crimes cases.”
“I can handle myself just fine—”
Brenda double checks to make sure the blinds are open—they still are. “It’s not fair that I can’t just kiss you quiet,” she pouts.
It has the desired effect; it does shut Sharon up for the moment.
“I’m not sayin’ you can’t handle it. I’m just sayin’ that I’m sure your department is missin’ you, and there’s nothing exciting goin’ on here at the moment. I promise I’ll call you if there is.”
Sharon takes a second. Then admits, “I do have some things to finish up.”
“You’re not missin’ anything here; I promise. I’ll call you with any updates, otherwise I’ll meet you upstairs to go to dinner later?”
“You still think you’ll have time?”
“For you? I’ll make the time.”
“Brenda Leigh—”
“They can’t retrace her day until the morning anyway. Our hands are kinda tied.”
“Speaking of, I’d very much like to accompany your division on their field trip tomorrow if you have no objections.”
“Anything you want, Captain.”
Sharon nods. “I’ll see you later then, Chief.”
Sharon leaves, and Brenda only has a few minutes alone before another knock at her door.
It’s Pope, there to check in on her case. He’s as surprised as she is that Sharon has been joining her all day, but to him it’s a good sign to have Internal Affairs looking into his greatest accomplishment on the force: Major Crimes.
“I know you won’t miss Raydor snooping around, but this,” he says, gesturing out to her murder room, “I think you’re gonna miss,” Pope says.
Brenda has no idea what he’s talking about. “Miss what?”
“This team you’ve created, these people.”
“Will, what on earth are you talking about?”
He sighs. “You’re moving back to DC, right?”
She’s even more confused now than a few moments ago.
“Look, I know about Fritz’s promotion.”
“What promotion?”
“Oh, uh, maybe I’m wrong. Uh, yeah, you know what? I’m–I’m–I think I’m wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
“Okay, somebody at DOJ told me that Fritz had been offered command of the FBI’s Critical Incident Response Team.”
“I know nothin’ about this—nothin’!” Her initial reaction is anger, but then it sets in. “Wait, wait, wait—Fritz has a job offer that good? Out of state?”
“I–I believe so, yes.”
“He’s got a job offer outta state,” Brenda says again, this time sounding like she’s just solved a murder.
Pope is clearly confused at her reaction. He draws out the word, “Yes.”
“Well that’s…that’s just—I have to go!”
Just as quickly as they entered her office, Brenda is on her way out.
“Brenda—wait!” Pope calls.
“Not now, Will!” she calls back.
* * *
When Brenda enters Pope’s office for her meeting, she finds herself faced with Pope, Taylor, DDA Powell, Special Agent Jackson, and Sharon.
She smiles briefly and discreetly with Sharon, placates the rest with small talk, and then gets down to business.
“I’d like to start with you, Ms. Powell. I’d like to say how sorry I am that I was unable to ignore your general level of incompetence in the wrongly obtained conviction in the case of Bill Croelick, and I’m sorry if you feel hurt and defensive about putting a man on death row for the wrong crime, and I certainly hope that that will never, ever happen again.”
She can see Sharon stifle a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and disguising it with a little cough. It eggs her on. “Agent Jackson, I deeply regret that the FBI handed over 2 million dollars to a man on the terrorist watch list without the capacity to trace it or manage to follow him for months without knowing his wife was having an affair with the doctor—and I hope you do much better in the future.”
This time Sharon hides her amusement in a sip of coffee, covering her secret delight in watching her girlfriend tear these people to shreds. Serves them right.
“Captain Taylor, I suppose I should apologize to you for not being born in Los Angeles, but having seen your work up close now for several months, I can honestly say that try as I might, I can’t think of any fair and reasonable system on earth where I wouldn’t outrank you.”
Sharon almost spits out her coffee at that one, and Brenda can’t help but shoot her a smile. “Oh, and, uh, Lieutenant Raydor, I’m sorry that you’ve had to waste your time here and that you are not higher ranked yourself. Your dedication is recognized and appreciated.”
There are shocked looks around the room—no one understanding why Sharon is getting a compliment amidst this mess.
And then Brenda concludes, “There. I hope that clears everything up. Well, excuse me. I mean, uh, I have to go. Thank you very much. Thank you.”
Brenda leaves and everyone turns to Pope, who can’t help but laugh. “Well…she did say she was sorry.”
“Without reason, I might add,” Sharon says. “I have thoroughly looked into this ‘anonymous’ compliant,” she says, looking deliberately at Taylor, “I have interviewed every member of Priority Homicide and heard their accounts of Chief Johnson’s procedural conduct, and I have found no reason to pursue disciplinary action.”
“But—” Taylor argues, but Sharon cuts him off.
She aggressively places the folder of resignations on the table in front of Taylor. “You should only be so lucky, Captain, to have a squad that believes so strongly in your work that they all submit resignations effective immediately if their Chief is removed because of some petty complaint like this.” She turns to Pope and places another folder in front of him. “My report,” she says. “It’s already been filed with Internal Affairs. Chief Johnson is officially cleared of these allegations and my work here is done. Thank you.”
* * *
Around the time they should be going to dinner, Brenda. makes her way over to FID—to Sharon’s office. The blinds are closed so she can’t see inside, but she assumes Sharon is in there, so she walks right past her squad—all trying in vain to stop her—and lets herself into Sharon’s office.
Sharon looks up, pleasantly surprised. “Is it that time already?”
Brenda closes and locks the door behind her. Then walks over to Sharon, throws her hands in her hair and kisses her. It’s not a chaste kiss; Brenda’s tongue begs for entrance immediately, which Sharon grants. One of Brenda’s hands stays tangled in Sharon’s hair while the other caresses her face, her neck—all the skin she can reach.
Sharon, still sitting at her desk, guides Brenda to sit in her lap. Sharon has one hand in Brenda's hair and the other rubbing soft circles at the small of her back.
They only break apart when the need for air becomes too much to ignore.
Foreheads pressed together, Sharon says, “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”
“Fritz got a promotion.”
Sharon is obviously confused, “Your husband got a promotion, so you came to kiss me?”
“In DC, baby—it’s in DC. Don’t you see what that means? The divorce’ll be easy! That’s why he’s been so pissy lately! He wants to move to DC, but he knows I won’t. Now he can go without me!”
“Honey—”
“I’ve gotta tell him! I’m gonna tell him tonight.”
“Honey, I’m not sure it’s that simple—”
“This is a good thing, Sharon. This is gonna make it easier for us.” She kisses Sharon. “Tonight—after I tell him—can I come over? Can I stay over?”
Sharon’s heart aches at how vulnerable Brenda sounds asking that—like she’s not sure the answer will be yes. She presses her lips against Brenda’s. “Stay forever, Brenda Leigh.”
“You really mean that?”
“I really do.”
“We’re not…movin’ too quickly?”
“We can slow down if you’d like, but not much has changed on my end. It’s still me,” Sharon says, running her hand through Brenda’s hair. “Still Sharon—and I still want to spend my life with you.”
Brenda kisses her. “I guess I haven’t changed that much, either. I just have one condition.”
“Oh?”
“Can we get another cat?”
Sharon laughs at that and wraps her arms around Brenda. “Yes, honey, we can get a cat.” She presses a kiss to Brenda’s hair.
“I get to be the favorite this time,” Brenda mumbles into Sharon’s neck, and the laugh Sharon gives in return is the most beautiful sound she has ever heard.
* * *
Later, when their case is closed and Brenda thanks her squad for all their hard work not just in this case, but in saving her job, she says, "I think it might be appropriate...well, Chief Pope tells me that sometimes at the conclusion of a successful case, y'all gather at O'Malley's to celebrate, and I thought, under the circumstances, I'd...I'd, like to buy y'all drinks...if you're available and would like."
They all agree, somewhat to Brenda's surprise, but really, after these resignations, she really isn't all that surprised after all.
"I'd also like to, uh, invite Lieutenant Raydor," Brenda says, and immediately she sees the hesitance on her squad's faces. "If y'all don't mind. I just...well, she did such a great job protectin' my job that it only feels right."
Gabriel is the first to speak up. "I think that's a great idea," he says.
It has the rest of her squad nodding along reluctantly.
Which is how Brenda and Sharon end up at an Irish pub down the street with the whole Priority Homicide squad.
Sharon has found herself in a conversation with Lieutenant Flynn while Brenda talks with Gabriel and Provenza, and Sanchez, Tao, and Daniels have their own conversation.
"Think he'll take her home?" Provenza asks, gesturing to Sharon and Flynn.
Brenda nearly spits out her Merlot. "What?"
"What? She's got great legs," Provenza says; clearly he's had a bit too much to drink. "He's always had a little thing for her."
Brenda's attention is back on Sharon: the way she keeps her distance from Flynn, keeps that terse smile on her face, withholding her true, beaming smile. She's clearly giving all the signs of someone only interested in conversation.
Gabriel must notice it, too, because he's the one who says, "Doesn't look like Raydor's too interested."
"No, it doesn't," Brenda agrees.
Meanwhile, "Care for another drink, Sharon?" Andy asks, gesturing to Sharon's nearly empty glass.
Sharon straightens her posture at his use of her first name. "No, Lieutenant, this will do for the night, thank you. I'll be driving home soon."
Flynn takes that as his opportunity, leaning closer to Sharon, who only angles her body further away, instinctively more towards Brenda.
"Look, look, look; he's going for it!" Provenza exclaims.
"Twenty bucks says it's a no," Gabriel says.
"I'll raise that bet to 100," Brenda adds.
"You're on!" Provenza says, reaching out to shake Brenda's hand, then Gabriel's in agreement.
"You know," Flynn says, "The best part about going drinking with someone sober, is you always have a DD. I'll drive you home."
"Thank you for the offer, Lieutenant, but really, this is my last glass. Excuse me," she says, then comes over to take the empty barstool next to Brenda.
"Pay up, Provenza," Gabriel says, hand outstretched.
Provenza sighs. "Fine, fine." He pulls out his wallet and hands a hundred dollar bill to Gabriel. Then offers one to Brenda. Sharon looks on curiously.
"$100 said you wouldn't take Lieutenant Flynn up on his offer to take you home," Brenda explains.
Sharon gapes in shock, trying to hide her blush. Then tries to change the subject. "To you, Chief Johnson," she says, raising her glass. "Los Angeles is lucky to have you looking out for it."
"Here, here!" the squad agrees, all clinking glasses.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Brenda says, though her eyes say more. Brenda downs the rest of her glass, then hops off her barstool. "Well, y'all, I think it's time to call it a night. Y'all really are a great team, I mean it. I'm grateful for every single one of y'all."
"How about a ride home, Chief?" Sharon asks.
Brenda gives Sharon her biggest southern smile. "Why thank you, Lieutenant." Then she turns back to her squad. "See y'all in the mornin'!"
"Goodnight," Sharon tells them all.
And then they're on their way out of the pub.
"What was that about?" Flynn asks, ego obviously bruised by Sharon's rejection.
"I think they're...friends," Provenza says with a shudder.
"Oh, they definitely are," Gabriel agrees.
"Good for them," Daniels says. "Two high ranking female police officers? They deserve a friend in the force."
"Yeah, but Raydor?" Provenza asks. "That means the wicked witch will be hanging around more."
"Eh, there are worse things," Flynn says.
"You just want another shot at her," Tao says, and Flynn can't deny it.
Meanwhile Sharon and Brenda walk back across the street to Sharon's car in the precinct parking garage.
"That was fun," Brenda says.
Once she's certain they're alone, Sharon reaches over to take Brenda's hand in hers. "Yes, it was. Thank you for inviting me."
"Always," Brenda promises. She presses a kiss to Sharon's cheek. "Though I have to say, I did hate watching Lieutenant Flynn hit on you."
Sharon laughs, "Don't worry, Brenda Leigh, I only have eyes for you."
"And one day they'll know that?" Brenda asks, voice soft and vulnerable. "One day he'll know he can't hit on you because you're mine?"
Sharon squeezes Brenda's hand. "Yes, honey. One day."
* * *
When Brenda finally comes home that night, Fritz is angrily sorting through the fridge.
“Hi,” she says tentatively.
“Hey,” he replies.
“What are you doing?”
“You were taking a long time to get home. I was looking for something to snack on, but everything in here is spoiled.” He finally turns to look at her and sees the takeout bag in her hand. “Is that from the Cuban chicken place?”
“Yeah. There was a line, so it-it took longer than I thought it would.” She doesn’t mention that there’s only one bag—which is a lot less than there usually is for the two of them. She’s nervous. She hadn’t been earlier, hadn’t been when she’d decided to do this today, and hadn’t been when she was talking to Sharon about it, but now she’s nervous. She’s ending her marriage. She’s telling her husband she wants a divorce. She’s hoping not to tell him about Sharon, but she’s not entirely sure that’s avoidable at this point; she’ll have to play that one by ear. She takes a deep breath. “Why-why didn’t you tell me about the promotion you were offered?”
“Why didn’t I tell you? You want to move back to DC?”
Brenda looks down, her answer clear.
“That’s what I thought. Plus, we’d have to give up 2/3 of our income. Plus, you’d have to find another job—”
“Fritz, this is a great opportunity for you.”
“But it’s not what you want.”
“No, it’s not.”
“So that leaves us here. With me keeping my job and you keeping yours.”
“I don’t…I don’t want to hold you back, Fritz.”
“And maybe that’s why I’ve been irritable—about just the idea of asking you to choose between me and your career because I figured which one you’d choose.”
Brenda takes a deep, steadying breath. “I think you should take the promotion.”
Fritz is clearly confused. “But you don’t want to move to DC.”
“No. I don’t.”
“I don’t think I understand—”
“I want a divorce, Fritz.”
Fritz stares at her, face blank.
So Brenda continues—rambles. “I want a divorce and I want to stay here and keep my job and I think you should take that promotion in DC and not be held back by me.”
Fritz speaks slowly, as if trying to understand something that makes no sense, “So I decide not to take a promotion because I’d rather be with you, and you decide you want a divorce?”
“I’ve been tryin’ to find the best way to tell you this for a little while now, but I was always workin’ or you were workin’ and it just never came up, but now—you have this great opportunity, and I want you to be able to take it—”
“You mean you want me out of your hair?”
“No, no, I—”
“You want me to move and make this easier on you; let you look like the good guy here—the martyr wife who gave up her marriage so her husband could follow his dreams—”
“That’s not what I—”
“I don’t understand; I thought things were fine—”
“They were.”
“Then what happened? What is this?”
“Fine isn’t good enough, Fritz. Not anymore. It never should’ve been in the first place.”
“So—what? You regret marrying me?”
Brenda takes a moment. Then she tells the truth, “I had just broken up with someone when you and I started. I shouldn’t have jumped in so quickly; that’s my fault—”
“And you just woke up today and realized all this? You woke up and decided that I was your—what, rebound?—and you regret it and want a divorce? That doesn’t—” Fritz stops; Brenda can see the anger spreading through him and the wheels turning in his head as he realizes, “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
“Fritz—”
“You’ve been cheating on me?!”
“It’s not—it’s not like that, not exactly.”
“Then what exactly would you call it?”
“We hadn’t seen each other in five years,” Brenda says, treading lightly. “I never thought we’d…but it all just came flooding back, and…Fritz, I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Who is it?”
Brenda shakes her head frantically. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does; I want to know.”
“Knowing who it is won’t change anything. It doesn’t matter—”
“You’re already back together with him—I’ll find out sooner or later—”
“Yes you will, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell you right now—because I’m not.” She takes a moment, then states matter of factly, “What I’m tellin’ you now is that I want a divorce. I’ve got someplace to stay, so you can have the house for now. Just…just tell me when I can come pick up my things.” Brenda picks up her purse and heads for the door. “That’s your favorite from the Cuban chicken place. Didn’t want you to have to worry about dinner on top of all this. I’ve got a lawyer drawing up papers, so you should receive them soon. I didn’t want that to be a surprise; I wanted to tell you first.” She turns back to look at him one more time, remorse evident in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Fritz, I really am. But this is somethin’ I have to do.” And with that, Brenda leaves the apartment and leaves her life with Fritz once and for all.
* * *
Sharon is asleep alone in their condo. It’s just after 3am, and Brenda still isn’t home yet. She’d rolled out around 9 and called an hour later saying she wasn’t sure how late she’d be, but Sharon shouldn’t wait up.
So, as usual when Brenda is working late, Sharon preps a plate of dinner and a chocolate dessert in the fridge for her and goes to bed hoping that soon enough, the light dip in the bed and then a soft, warm body pressed against hers will wake her up and let her know her girlfriend is home safe.
Instead of those expected sensations, it’s loud thumps and bumps coming from the kitchen that awaken her. They’ve been living together for months; Sharon knows Brenda’s footfalls, and she knows what it sounds like when her girlfriend comes home—this is not it. Someone else is in their home, and it’s not Brenda. She’s certain of that.
She gets up quickly and quietly, grabs her gun, and slowly stalks through the hallway, through the living room, and out into the kitchen.
She can see the light on and hear the shuffling around through the fridge. “Damn, this looks good,” she hears, and though the man’s voice is a shock, she does relax just slightly because it’s a voice that she knows: her husband’s.
Still, she wants to scare him, wants to make it clear that this is not okay. So, gun still raised, she kicks the refrigerator door closed and scares the crap out of him. For a moment, at least. Once he sees it’s her, even with her gun pointed at him, he smiles that stupid smile she regrets ever falling for, raises his free hand, and says, “I surrender.”
Finally, Sharon lowers her gun. “Jack, what are you doing here?”
“I have a key, remember?”
“Jack, what are you doing here at 3am without calling me?”
“Who calls at 3am?”
Suddenly, Sharon sees the plate of food he’s holding—Brenda’s plate of food—and forcefully grabs it out of his hand. “That is not for you.”
Jack raises his hands in surrender again. “Sorry, sorry. I saw it while I was putting my food in the fridge—uh, my, uh, almond milk, soy milk—”
“What, are you moving in or something?” Sharon jokes mirthlessly.
Jack’s initial silence is not a good sign. Neither is his hesitant, “Well—”
It takes Sharon less than half a second to interrupt him with an aggressive, “No. No. ”
“I, uh, got myself on the court-appointed attorneys list here.”
“You did?”
“Uh huh.”
“You are moving back to LA?”
“It’s hard to be gluten-free in Nevada, and I thought that I might bunk with you for a few nights until I find my own place.”
Sharon thinks for a moment. “You can stay on the couch for the two nights I usually give you.”
“Oh, well, uh, ‘a few’ usually means three—”
“No.”
“—Or more, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Okay, okay.” He tries to pout at her, and he really thinks it’ll work, too. But he’s got no effect on her; Sharon only falls for one pout now, and it’s the one that belongs to one Brenda Leigh Johnson. When he realizes he’s getting nowhere he asks, almost incredulously, “The couch? Really?”
“Goodnight, Jack,” Sharon says, and to prove it’s the end of their discussion, she simply retreats back to her and Brenda’s bedroom. “And don’t even think about that chocolate cake,” she calls behind her.
For once, Sharon is glad Brenda has a late case and is unlikely to be home soon. She has no idea how she’s going to explain this—to either of them.
* * *
Sharon is asleep on the couch when a faint knock on the door wakes her up. “It’s open, honey,” she calls out sleepily.
Brenda enters, locking the door behind her. She wants to chastise Sharon for leaving her door unlocked, but any reprimanding words are lost the second she sees the other woman still curled up on the couch with a throw blanket wrapped around her. Sharon starts to get up, but Brenda stops her.
“No, baby, stay,” she says, walking over to her. She kneels down in front of her and presses a kiss to her lips. Then runs a hand through Sharon’s hair. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”
“Mmm, never apologize for coming home to me.”
Sharon is still soft and sleepy; Brenda can’t help but kiss her again.
“I told him,” Brenda says.
Sharon takes a moment to absorb that. “How did it go?”
“He’s mad,” Brenda admits. “Really mad, but…he knows now.” She presses a kiss to Sharon’s forehead. “You know what that means now, dontcha?” Sharon looks up at her adoringly, so Brenda continues, “I’m all yours—if you’ll have me?”
There’s a vulnerability to Brenda’s voice that still shocks Sharon—because doesn’t Brenda know by now? It makes Sharon even more determined to ensure Brenda has no doubts after tonight. “Brenda Leigh, I love you,” she says. “I have loved you…honestly, I think since the first night we met. I will have you for as long as you’ll have me—for forever if you’ll let me.”
Brenda is crying now, and it has tears forming in Sharon’s eyes, too.
“Forever,” Brenda promises, and seals it with a kiss.
“Let’s go to bed, honey,” Sharon says. “Our bed in our home—back where we’re supposed to be.”
It’s only when Sharon takes the blanket off herself and stands that Brenda sees what she’s wearing…or not really wearing. Brenda’s eyes widen and her jaw drops at the sight of Sharon in a tiny black lace teddy.
It’s both amusing and endearing, and it does great things for Sharon’s ego to still receive such a reaction so close to 60. “Cat got your tongue, Brenda Leigh?”
All Brenda can do is stutter, “I…you…” before she pulls Sharon into her arms for a desperate kiss. Her hands touch everywhere they can reach—so much soft skin that Brenda just can’t get enough of. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Sharon says against Brenda’s lips, leading her to the bedroom, mouths still glued together. “Let me show you how much.”
Brenda moans into the kiss, allows Sharon to remove her blazer and unzip her dress. She feels the cold air against her skin as Sharon peels the dress off her. Then she feels the warm sensation of Sharon’s lips pressed against her skin, following the dress’ path. When she’s just in her bra and panties—plain ones, she realizes regretfully, wishing she’d worn something nice to surprise Sharon, but she hadn’t known this is where tonight would end when she’d started her day this morning—she feels Sharon’s eyes on her, taking in every inch of skin they can see.
“You haven’t changed at all,” Sharon whispers, running a hand from Brenda’s neck, down her chest, past her rib cage, and landing on a hip. “You’re still perfect.”
Sharon's soft touch and gaze are wonderful, but they’re not enough. “Please, baby,” Brenda begs. “Please touch me.”
And Sharon does. She grabs Brenda by the hips and pulls their bodies flush against each other, mouths meeting in a heated kiss. She trails kisses from Brenda’s mouth, down her neck and shoulder until finally she reaches her chest, kissing the swell of her breast.
So lost in the sensation, Brenda doesn’t even realize her bra has been removed until she feels Sharon’s lips on her nipple. “Oh—Sharon,” she moans, hand flying to Sharon’s hair, keeping her mouth in place.
With her tongue teasing a nipple, Sharon lets her hands wander Brenda’s body freely—one squeezing Brenda’s other breast and the other coming to gently touch between pale thighs.
Brenda bucks her hips into the touch, craving more. “Off,” she demands. “Please.”
Sharon kisses her way to Brenda’s other nipple as she draws Brenda’s panties down her legs and finally settles her on the bed.
Brenda looks up at her through hooded eyes. “You look so beautiful,” she says, “But I wanna see you. All of you.”
Sharon takes the hint and slowly, teasingly pulls the teddy over her head. She’s naked underneath; Brenda’s mouth waters. But Sharon doesn’t give her much time to stare; she’s right back to work.
She teases at first, fingers only ghosting over Brenda’s clit. Then she slips a single finger inside her, moaning at the feeling, before removing it and bringing it to her lips. “Mmhmm,” she says with satisfaction. “Still tastes the same.”
“Sharon, I swear to god, if you don’t touch me already, I’m movin’ out again.”
It earns her another finger thrust inside—only for a moment. Then a flick against her clit.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Still, Sharon acquiesces, and this time thrusts two fingers into Brenda’s dripping entrance. She peppers kisses down her body until her face is finally between her legs, and takes a long lick at Brenda’s pussy, earning her a strangled groan.
When she wraps her lips around Brenda’s clit, she feels the woman beneath her shudder, feels the moment Brenda comes undone with a scream of Sharon’s name and repeated confessions of love.
Sharon only pulls out when Brenda’s arched back relaxes back on the bed and she goes completely still. She brings her fingers up to her lips and licks them clean, tasting all she can of Brenda.
“Up here, baby,” Brenda says, breath heavy. “Now.”
It’s been five years, but Sharon still knows what that means; she still remembers that Brenda’s favorite way to pleasure her—and one of her own favorite ways to be pleasured—is for Sharon to straddle her face.
So she does. She leans down and kisses Brenda, letting the woman taste herself on her lips, and then slowly crawls up her body until her knees are on either side of Brenda’s head.
Brenda stares at her lustily, wantonly. “God, I’ve missed you,” she says, warm breath teasing Sharon’s pussy and making her squirm.
“Honey, please,” Sharon pleads, and she doesn’t have to ask twice.
Brenda leans forward and buries herself in all that is Sharon. She wraps her arms around her thighs and licks the path from her entrance to her clit. She can feel Sharon shaking above her, feel Sharon’s hands threading in her hair.
It doesn’t take long. Brenda focuses her tongue on Sharon’s clit, and knows by the pressure of Sharon’s fingers in her hair holding her in place that she’s chosen the right spot. She knows Sharon is close when, at the same time she wraps her lips around Sharon’s clit, she thrusts two fingers inside her, and Sharon moans like it’s the best thing she’s ever felt, losing some of her self-control and dropping her hips, bringing her even closer to Brenda’s mouth. It makes Brenda moan into her pussy, causing the most wonderful vibrating sensation for Sharon.
It’s with Brenda’s deepest thrust yet and flick of her tongue against Sharon’s clit that Sharon reaches for Brenda’s free hand, needing to feel that connection, and finally comes undone.
She rides Brenda’s face until the pleasure is too much—she’s too sensitive—but when she tries to pull away, Brenda only holds her thighs tighter and says, “Again, baby, I know you can.”
It makes Sharon gasp in anticipation, and once again she surrenders herself to Brenda, allows Brenda to touch her in all the right places. Brenda’s mouth has always been her favorite thing, and it doesn’t take long before Brenda has her screaming again, head thrown back with abandon as she comes a second time, riding out the waves of pleasure against Brenda’s mouth.
This time, Brenda slows when she feels Sharon come down, and guides her to lay next to her.
Immediately, Sharon rolls onto her side, facing Brenda, and kisses her. It’s a mix of both their tastes, and it’s deep and languorous and it’s everything they both know they’ll ever need.
Brenda wraps her arm around Sharon’s waist, and pulls her to her. Sharon snuggles right up, resting her head on Brenda’s chest and pressing a kiss against her heart.
“Welcome home, honey,” she says, tears of joy in her eyes.
Brenda strokes her hair and leans down to kiss her. This is it; this is total bliss. This is where they both belong.
* * *
It’s nearly 4:30am when Brenda quietly enters the condo. She doesn’t expect to be met with the sight of a strange man sleeping on her couch and a sleeping, but very uncomfortable looking Sharon on a chair.
Slowly, carefully, Brenda tiptoes over to Sharon and touches a gentle hand to her cheek. “Sharon?” she whispers, fear starting to get the best of her.
All she gets in response is a soft hum.
“Sharon, baby, wake up.” She sounds frantic.
“Brenda Leigh?” Sharon asks, groggy, eyes still closed and instinctively leaning in for a kiss.
Brenda indulges her only with a quick peck. “Yeah, baby, it’s me—why are you sleepin’ out here and why is there a man on our couch?”
Sharon sighs as it all comes back to her. As she slowly awakens fully and gets herself up, she takes Brenda’s hand and leads her to their bedroom. “I can explain,” she says carefully.
“Please do.”
Once they’re safely in the bedroom, away from any potentially prying ears, Sharon squeezes Brenda’s hand and admits, “Honey, that’s Jack…my husband.”
Brenda feels her whole world shatter.
* * *
Sharon wakes up nestled in Brenda’s arms and she lets out a sigh of relief. Last night actually happened; it’s real.
She rolls over to check the time, but Brenda’s arms tighten around her, unwilling to let her go.
“It’s too early,” Brenda mumbles.
Sharon laughs softly. “How do you know?”
“No alarm yet.” Her hold on Sharon tightens. “Back to sleep.”
Sharon smiles, allowing herself to close her eyes and surrender to Brenda’s desire to stay in bed a little longer. She’s right after all, if it was actually time to get up, her alarm would be going off. They’ve still got some time.
Not enough, unfortunately. It’s only an hour later that Sharon’s alarm sounds. When she reaches over to grab it, she feels Brenda roll with her, whining a cranky, “Nooooo.”
“Honey, we have to get up,” Sharon says gently. “You have a case, and I’m observing it.”
“But I just got you back,” Brenda pouts.
“And you’ll have me right here, in bed with you, again tonight—and every night.
Brenda groans, unable to argue with that, and buries her face in Sharon’s shoulder.
Sharon laughs lovingly and runs a hand through rumpled blonde hair. “Come on, honey. The world awaits us.” When Brenda is still reluctant to let go, Sharon adds sweetly, “I’ll make you breakfast.”
That grabs Brenda’s attention. “You will?”
“Mmm. How’s…chocolate chip pancakes?”
Brenda’s eyes light up with delight. “Sharon Raydor, you are still the very best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Sharon leans in for a kiss, and almost regrets it—because it still tastes like sex, and god does she want Brenda again, but she knows there isn’t time now. Reluctantly she pulls away and looks Brenda in the eyes, runs a hand through her hair. “You have no idea just how much I feel the same.” Another kiss—this time she’s sure to keep it just at a peck. “Go shower; breakfast will be ready when you get out.”
Sharon gets up, then, and grabs a silk purple robe to put on. She grabs a second robe—this one black silk—and places it on the bed for Brenda.
“You know,” Brenda says conspicuously, “You could always shower with me.”
Sharon just turns around and smirks at her, “Nice try, honey.”
Then she’s off to the kitchen, and Brenda finally gets out of bed.
Later, makeup on and hair done, Brenda, still in Sharon’s robe, realizes, “I have nothing to wear.”
“What?” Sharon asks.
“I didn’t bring anything with me last night,” she says. “What am I gonna wear to work?”
Sharon sighs, but there’s an obvious fondness to it. “Come on,” she says, taking Brenda by the hand and leading her to her closet. “The world is your oyster,” she says, gesturing about.
“Anything?” Brenda asks, slightly skeptical.
“Anything,” Sharon agrees. “If someone figures it out, they figure it out.”
Brenda can’t help but kiss her at that. She lands on Sharon’s pinstripe suit—it’s always been her favorite and she’s secretly always wanted to try it on—with a hot pink silk shirt underneath.
Sharon blushes when she sees it; there’s something so intimate about seeing Brenda in her clothes. “I can’t say I’ve ever worn those together,” Sharon says. “But it suits you.”
They decide to drive to work together. Sharon is still hanging out with Major Crimes for this case anyway; it only makes sense. Sharon drives with Brenda happily in the passenger seat holding her hand. They are still keeping things between them publicly quiet for now, so Brenda enters the precinct first, Sharon following behind a few minutes later.
Sharon accompanies Provenza, Sanchez, and Flynn on their field trip and is impressed with their work. Brenda runs a tight ship and it shows; her detectives are great at their job.
By the time they return, the results from Adriana’s rape kit are in: there are two other victims. They follow the lead on one of them: Lupe Nava, another nanny who worked in the same neighborhood as Adriana. They question her former employer together, and once again, both Brenda and Sharon are reminded of how much they complement each other in every way imaginable.
* * *
The first night Sharon sleeps alone again is the hardest. She’s known Brenda for just over two years and they’ve been dating for nearly 3/4 of that time. She’s gotten used to being held at night; she’s gotten used to soft, warm skin surrounding her and falling asleep listening to the beating of Brenda’s heart.
Jack is gone—good riddance—but her problems are not. He might still come back, though she really, really hopes he doesn’t, and Brenda still might not come back, though she really, really hopes she does.
She sighs and rolls onto her side. Of course, she’s only met then with a photo of them framed on the nightstand. Brenda had taken it on one of their date nights. She’d taken Sharon to a movie in the park, and while they’d been cuddled close, Sharon sleepy-eyed and slightly drifting off, Brenda had pulled out her phone, pressed a kiss to Sharon’s cheek, and clicked the camera. Sharon looks tired and in love, and Brenda looks completely lovestruck; it’s Sharon’s favorite picture of them. She takes it and turns it upside down. No, she can’t look at that right now. Not when Brenda isn’t in bed beside her and she’s not certain that she’s actually coming back.
* * *
They’re back in the murder room reviewing their information.
“I got no hits at the morgue for Lupe Nava or any Juanita Doe who matches her description—which is good news,” Provenza says.
“Well she couldn’t have just disappeared,” Brenda says.”
“Maybe the FBI can locate her from the federal immigration rolls,” Flynn suggests. “Why don’t you ask your husband?”
Sharon tries not to visibly flinch; she’s only vaguely successful.
Brenda is even less successful. “I…uh…well…”
“Chief,” she’s luckily interrupted by Gabriel, “We found the, uh, third rape victim. Her name is Marisol Gutierrez.”
“In the morgue?” Sanchez asks.
“No, actually. She’s in the interview room with Lieutenant Tao. I was finally able to get her address from Santa Monica PD and, um, she’s a nanny.”
“Well,” Sharon says. She’s nervous, but only Brenda can tell that. “It seems Chief Johnson has a victim to talk to. Maybe you should try calling Agent Howard yourself, Lieutenant Flynn.” She can feel both the relief and fear flood Brenda.
Flynn looks to his Chief for an answer; she nods. “Uh, sure,” he says.
Flynn heads to his desk to make the call, and everyone else starts moving all at once: Brenda to the interview room and Sharon, Provenza, Sanchez, and Buzz to electronics to watch.
Brenda handles Marisol with care that brings tears to Sharon’s eyes as she watches on. It’s one thing to catch a criminal and get confessions; it’s another to show such empathy and softness. It’s a marvel that Brenda can do both so well—so authentically.
After the interview, Brenda sends her squad off with tasks and leads Sharon to her office. She closes the blinds and locks the door, giving them complete privacy. Brenda sits at her desk and Sharon comes up behind her, gently rubbing the tension out of her shoulders.
“I’m so proud of you,” Sharon says gently.
“I didn’t do anything,” Brenda says, confused.
Sharon leans in to kiss her cheek. “You showed her mercy; you showed her care.”
Brenda is about to respond when there’s a knock at the door. Brenda moves to get up, but Sharon stops her with a gentle pressure on her shoulders. “I’ll get it,” she whispers. She places a kiss against Brenda’s cheek and moves to open the door.
It’s Lieutenant Flynn, with Fritz standing out of sight beside him.
“Oh, uh, hi, Captain,” Flynn says.
“What do you need, Lieutenant?” Brenda asks.
“Agent Howard is here,” he says.
Brenda stiffens and straightens up in her chair. Sharon clenches her fists.
“He’s got our information, but wants to speak to you in private.”
“Well all right then,” Brenda says. “Send him in.”
Flynn steps aside and lets Fritz enter. He glares at Brenda; looks curiously at Sharon.
Brenda turns her attention to Sharon, “Thank you for your help, Captain,” she says. “I’ll be in touch when we have more information.”
Sharon nods. “Whatever you need, Chief.”
They stare at each other a little longer than appropriate, communicating in their own way, before Sharon exits, Flynn following her and closing the door behind them.
“So you’ve got something?” Brenda asks Fritz.
“Not so fast,” he says, coming to stand beside her
“Fritz, I don’t have time for this; I’m working an important case. Either you’ve got something helpful to say, or you don’t.”
“There are 234 Lupes, Guadalupes, and Lupitas with the last name Nava living in Los Angeles county.”
“Oh, great.”
“Fortunately for you, only five of them fit the description of your rape victim. If you have a picture of her, I can probably find the match.”
Brenda reaches into her bag, searching for the picture.
“But,” Fritz says, “Not until you give me a name.”
Brenda shakes her head. “I told you last night—”
“That was before you needed something from me. Now you do—and I need something from you, too. I want to know who you’ve been cheating on me with.”
“I haven’t been cheatin’, Fritz; I told you that—”
“That’s not what you said last night—”
“What I said was that there’s someone else—not that we’ve been cheatin’— ”
“Fine then!” He exclaims, getting angry now. “I don’t care what you want to call it. There’s another man in the picture, and I want to know who he is.”
“Why does it matter so much?”
“Because it does, Brenda!”
Fritz yells that one so loud, they can hear it from the murder room.
“Jeez,” Andy says. “Wonder what’s got him so uptight.”
“He shouldn’t be yelling at her like that,” Sharon says.
“Bets on what they’re fighting about?” Flynn asks, looking around. “Anyone?”
Provenza looks ready to respond, but Sharon stops him with a glare and a pointed, “Don’t you dare.”
“Dammit, Brenda!” they hear from inside her office just before the clear sound of someone slamming on the desk.
It makes Flynn flinch and Sharon go into action. “Why don’t you all head into the break room,” she says, her tone clearly not up for discussion, and all of Major Crimes listens, abandoning the murder room.
Once they’re gone, Sharon approaches Brenda’s office and lets herself inside without even a knock. “Is everything all right in here?”
Brenda visibly relaxes at her presence; even Fritz notices it.
“Yeah, Sharon,” Brenda says tensely. It’s obviously not true, but she can’t say otherwise. Still, she smiles just slightly at Sharon, her eyes softening.
Fritz looks between them for a moment, then, “Oh my god!”
Sensing where this is going, Sharon closes the door behind her. Thank god she sent everyone else away.
“It’s you, isn’t it?!” His accusation is loud and he’s walking towards her aggressively.
Sharon stands her ground, though, unmoving even as Brenda is quick out of her seat to try and stand between them.
“Fritz, stop.” Brenda says.
“Raydor is why you’re leaving me?!”
He’s still stalking towards Sharon, maneuvering himself around Brenda trying her best to keep them apart. Sharon still stands tall, unwavering. She gives Brenda a subtle nod—yes, you can admit it; I’m ready for someone to know about us.
“Yes,” Brenda admits softly, but strongly. “Yes, it’s Sharon. Now give me those files and get out.”
Fritz looks at Sharon, who shows no sign of shame or embarrassment or even remorse. She simply stands there, stoic. Then he looks to Brenda, who only spares him a glare. He takes the files in his hand and throws them on her desk. “Fine!” he says. “Have your information and have your little affair. I’m done,” he says. “We’re done. Call someone else when you need a favor from the FBI, and don’t come crawling back to me when whatever… this,” he gestures wildly between them, “Is fizzles out.” And then he leaves, slamming the door behind him.
It’s Sharon who moves first then, seating herself on the visitor’s side of Brenda’s desk and looking at Fritz’s FBI file. It only takes a moment for Brenda to follow suit, sitting across from her.
“This is it,” Sharon says, holding up a piece of paper with a clear photo of the Lupe Nava they’re looking for. “This is her.” Sharon sighs as she reads further, “And it looks like she was deported a month and a half ago.”
“Sharon—”
“Not now, Brenda Leigh,” Sharon says softly, her hand reaching out to touch Brenda’s. “I can’t…” she sighs, not knowing exactly what to say. “These women need us. There’s time for us later; I promise—at home.”
And it’s all the reassurance Brenda needs.
* * *
Brenda enters her murder room to see Flynn and Provenza readying to leave. It’s the middle of the day and they’re not on a case at the moment, so it’s just a little bit suspicious. Especially with Flynn holding a box of chocolates.
“Where are you two off to?” Brenda asks.
“Party up on the 5th floor,” Flynn says.
“What for?”
“Didn’t you hear?” Provenza asks. “That wicked witch Raydor got promoted.”
“Captain Raydor now,” Flynn says.
“Son of a bitch, too,” Provenza complains. “That damn woman outranks me now.”
“Shar-Sharon Raydor got promoted?”
“Apparently,” Provenza pouts.
“Which means there’s cake upstairs.” Flynn says.
“The only upside,” Provenza adds.
But Brenda’s not listening, not really. It’s been three years, and somehow she and Sharon have never again crossed paths. She can’t even remember the last time she heard someone mention Sharon’s name—she does remember the last dream she had about her, though, and she hates herself for it just a little bit for how recent and how explicit it had been.
“Hey Chief,” Flynn calls, breaking Brenda out of her reverie. “You coming or what?”
“I-I think I’ll pass on this one.”
“If it’s chocolate cake, we’ll bring you back a slice,” Flynn says.
And then they’re gone. And Brenda makes her way into her office.
She wishes a case would come along—something, anything, to get her mind off Sharon. But apparently today is the day all of Los Angeles has decided to be well-behaved.
It’s less than an hour before she’s on her computer looking at different flower arrangements. Nothing catches her eye, though. Sharon loves white roses, but sending just those feels too intimate. So she adds her favorite: sunflowers. Which feels even more intimate, but the combination sounds so beautiful that she can’t bring herself to talk herself out of it.
It’s a large arrangement she orders—large and beautiful enough to cost her $200—but she can’t imagine anything less for Captain Sharon Raydor. She’s about to finalize the order when it prompts her to add a message for the card attached.
She hadn’t thought of this part. What even is there for her to say at this point? I miss you? I’m sorry? I love you? I’m seeing someone?
She types out, “Congratulations,” but that just feels like it falls too short. So she deletes it. And leaves it blank. No card, no message, no name. Just the flowers.
Part of her hopes Sharon will know they’re from her anyway. Another part prays she never finds out. When she never hears from Sharon afterwards, she assumes it’s the latter.
* * *
Their next stop is the Department of Homeland Security. Brenda brings Sharon in place of a member of her squad—which turns a few heads, but no one questions it outright.
Agent Meyers, the agent who deported Lupe, is…less than helpful. Brenda and Sharon quickly learn that he ignored Lupe’s rape claim, assuming she was lying to stay in the country. It’s only later in their conversation that he has the moment of realization, “Don’t tell me—she was telling the truth? She really was raped?”
“Along with two others that we know about,” Brenda says, taking out photos of her other victims. “Marisol Gutierrez and Adriana Gomez, who we found murdered.”
“You have to understand,” Meyers says, “If she pushed this, I would have gotten an investigator down here right away. She could have fought this.”
“Let me ask you,” Sharon begins, “How did Lupe wind up in front of you in the first place?”
“She, uh, she was reported by her employer, Jeffrey Walters.”
It shocks them both—they spoke to Walters; how could they have missed this? Which brings them back to his house with Sanchez, Gabriel, and a warrant to search the place.
Walters claims innocence and Brenda isn’t exactly sure how to play her next move until the man’s son comes into the room. She has Sanchez escort him to a different room and then sends Gabriel to keep the father occupied.
“Honey, your suspect went that way,” Sharon whispers when Brenda starts off in the direction of Walters’ son and not the man himself.
“Children know more about their nannies than anyone,” Brenda replies.
In talking with Walters’ son Leo, they learn that Lupe and Adriana took the children they cared for to the same park—which is probably how the two cases are related. Both Leo Walters and Avery Disken mentioned knowing a boy named Ruben, who it’s now their mission to find.
Brenda has Detective Sanchez call Agent Meyers to see if he has any mention of a kid named Ruben in any of his files. In the meantime, they circle back to Avery Disken. He shows them Ruben’s Facebook page, which is where they learn that Ruben’s father is none other than Agent Meyers.
“Detective Sanchez, were you able to contact Agent Meyers about Ruben?” Brenda asks.
“He wasn’t in the office. I left a message on his cell,” Sanchez replies. “Do you want me to try his house?”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Sharon says.
Brenda turns to her and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Me too.” Then turns to her squad, “Let’s go.”
When they arrive at Agent Meyers’ house, they find Ruben under the bed, clearly beaten. When they ask him if he knows where his dad is, he answers, “No, he took the van from work. He’s gone.”
Brenda turns to Sanchez, “Detective Sanchez, stay here until paramedics arrive.”
“Uh, Chief,” Flynn says as Brenda rushes out of the room, “Meyers is not here.”
“Of course not,” Brenda says. Oh! I told him everything I know about the case. Think think think think think think think. Where did he go? Where did he go? Meyers was targeting illegal aliens—”
“But Adriana was an American citizen,” Sharon says.
Brenda turns to face her, ready for them to brainstorm together. “That’s why he killed her: he couldn’t threaten her with deportation.” Realization hits her and Sharon at the same time, she can tell. “Oh my god.”
“He’s going after Marisol,” Sharon says with dread.
“Why would he bother? We have his DNA,” Flynn asks.
Brenda is already rushing out the door, Sharon not far behind her, but Sharon does answer Flynn, “That’s the one thing we didn’t tell him.”
* * *
Sharon hears about it through the grapevine—of course she does. Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson and Special Agent Fritz Howard are engaged.
Sharon picks up and crumbles the piece of paper in front of her. Then she sighs and turns to her computer to reprint the document—it’s a paper she actually needs.
She tries to let the news go, but it’s stuck in her brain on repeat: Brenda is getting married, Brenda is getting married, Brenda is getting married. It sends an ache through her heart every time. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
Fritz was supposed to be a rebound, and they were supposed to find their way back to each other; that’s what she’d always allowed herself to believe.
Apparently she’d been wrong.
She wants to say it’s her own fault for keeping hope, but Brenda is the one who sent her flowers for her promotion. Yes, the beautiful, clearly expensive arrangement had come unsigned, but she wasn’t born yesterday, and she knows Brenda well enough to know the woman’s work. White roses are her favorite; sunflowers are Brenda’s. No one else would have sent that combination; Brenda had reached out.
Sharon kicks herself now for not responding, but how was she supposed to know that she was supposed to? Brenda hadn’t left a note, hadn't even left her name—how was Sharon supposed to know that she was supposed to respond?
She sighs. Too late now, she supposes. Because Brenda is engaged, and Sharon’s heart is broken.
* * *
Brenda speeds to her destination with Sharon in the passenger seat beside her, hands entwined.
“This time of night, it’s gonna take SWAT an hour to get here,” Brenda says. “And that’s assuming we make it in time.”
“We will,” Sharon says, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “We will.” She bring’s Brenda’s hand to her lips to place a quick kiss.
“There’s his van!” Brenda exclaims.
Sharon grabs the car’s walkie, “All right—Tao, Flynn, box him in. Box him in now.”
The officers do as they’re told and box the van in. Brenda immediately rushes towards Marisol’s apartment—where Meyers is forcefully dragging her out the gate with a gun to her head.
“Back away!” Meyers yells. “Back away!”
Marisol is horrified and crying. Brenda hears Gabriel from behind her yelling at Meyers to drop his weapon. She looks around quickly—she’s lost track of Sharon, but as much as she wants to rectify that, she has to put this scene in front of her first; Sharon will understand.
“Okay, okay, okay. Let’s not do anything stupid,” Brenda says.
“I am serious. Move your cars now!”
“Let her go, and then we can talk, okay?”
“I’m not standing around waiting for SWAT. Move your cars or I will put a bullet in her head.”
“Chief, back up!” Flynn yells.
“Look, look, look, let’s just keep our cool, okay?” Brenda tries.
“You move your car right now, or I will blow her brains all over the sidewalk!” Meyers turns to a still sobbing Marisol, “Shut up!”
Again Brenda hears her squad warn her to back up; she doesn’t listen—she can’t. “A-Agent Meyers, let’s just calm down. Let’s just keep our cool and we can walk away peacefully.”
“Just move your cars and back away now. Back away!”
“There’s only one way for all of us to get out of here alive, and that is for you to drop your weapon and come with me.”
“I will let her go when I am out of here.”
“This is not a negotiation, Agent Meyers. You shoot her, we will kill you. If you run, we will kill you. If you do not drop your weapon, we will kill you. Let her go, and get down on the ground now!”
It all happens so fast from there. Brenda sees a flash of movement behind Meyers. It shocks her only for a moment until she realizes who it is: Sharon. She has no idea how, but somehow, throughout this ordeal, Sharon has gotten herself a clear shot.
Meyers yells at Marisol again, “Shut up!”
It only makes Marisol sob harder.
Brenda makes eye contact with Sharon and warns Meyers, “This is your last chance—let her go!”
Then there’s the sound of a helicopter from above, the telltale sign of SWAT arriving. Meyers looks up, pressing the gun firmer against Marisol’s head. Then he changes his mind, points his weapon at Brenda instead.
“Bitch—” he starts to say, but doesn’t even get the word fully out—a bullet straight to the head stops him midway.
His grip loosens on Marisol, who takes that opportunity to run away, as his body falls to the ground.
Brenda makes eye contact with Sharon and instinctively starts to run towards her, but Sharon shakes her head and gestures in the direction of Marisol. She can wait; this girl can’t.
It’s only once Gabriel has Marisol safely in a police car that Brenda makes her way over to Sharon, flinging herself in her arms and pulling her into a crushing kiss. Sharon holds her tight, kissing back like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.
When they part, foreheads pressed together, panting for breath, Brenda looks into green eyes adoringly. “Baby—”
She’s interrupted by Sanchez yelling, “Chief!”
Brenda turns to look his way. Then looks back at Sharon.
Sharon presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Go,” she says.
“But—”
Another kiss, and Sharon says it again, “Go. I’m here; I’m not going anywhere.”
Brenda looks at her for a moment. Then nods and runs to Sanchez, standing in front of the van.
Inside is one of most horrible sights she’s ever seen: women chained up, assumedly prepped for deportation.
“Oh,” Brenda says in shock, taking a step back. She isn’t expecting the feel of a soft body behind her, but she relaxes into it immediately, knowing it’s Sharon. She reaches back for Sharon’s hand, wrapping it around her waist. Still leaning into Sharon’s warmth, she turns to her squad and relays orders for dealing with the situation. Once they’re all off to do as ordered and she finally has a moment alone with Sharon, Brenda turns to face her.
“You saved my life,” she says. When she looks into Sharon’s eyes this time, she sees the tears start to fall. “Oh, baby,” she soothes, pulling Sharon into her arms.
Sharon buries her face in Brenda’s neck and cries, sobs wracking her entire body.
“I’m here, baby,” Brenda assures, running a hand through Sharon’s hair. “I’m right here. I’m right here, Sharon.” She kisses the top of her head. “I love you so much.”
It only makes Sharon sob harder, gasping out as best as she can through tears, “Love you, too. So much.”
“Come on, let’s go home baby.” Brenda tries to lead Sharon to the car, but Sharon won’t let her.
“I shot someone,” Sharon says. “FID needs to come.”
Somehow, it makes Brenda laugh. “My eternal rule follower,” she says, pressing a kiss to Sharon’s hair. “God, I love you.”
It doesn’t even cross either of their minds yet that they’ve just outed themselves to all of Major Crimes, whoever arrived from SWAT, and god knows who else that’s shown up to the scene of the crime.
* * *
Sharon wishes she didn’t think about Brenda as much as she does. She thought as time went on, she’d forget at least the little things: like the way Brenda’s hair felt against her cheek when they laid together or the taste of Merlot on Brenda’s soft lips, but still, five years later, she remembers it all too well.
Brenda is officially married now; she’d heard when that happened through the grapevine, too. Following Brenda’s lead, Sharon had sent congratulatory flowers, too. A lot more subtle—only a single white rose and a single sunflower.
Brenda never said a word about it. Not that their paths had ever crossed exactly, but they do still work in the same building just as they always have.
She’s at home one night, watching an old Cary Grant movie when she gets the call about an officer-involved shooting involving one Sergeant Gabriel of Major Crimes.
“I can take point,” Sergeant Elliot offers over the phone. He remains the only one who’d figured them out upon the breakup, and his loyalty to Sharon meant he’d never said a word to anyone about it.
Sharon takes a moment to answer that. Her mind wanders to Brenda again—of course it does. What it might be like to see her again, to cross paths finally. She hates to admit how much she still longs to see her; she knows she’s only asking for even more heartbreak, but she just can’t stop herself from saying, “Thank you, Sergeant, but I’d like to handle this one myself.”
He’s silent for a moment before saying, “Of course, Ma’am.”
“Send me the address and I’ll meet you there.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Elliot hangs up then, and Sharon readies herself for the inevitable. She’s going to see Brenda Leigh again tonight—for better or for worse.
* * *
Gabriel drops them off at the condo—very kindly without any questions or comments on their joint destination or their displays of affection.
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Brenda says once he’s parked in front of their building. “We’ve got it from here.”
She and Sharon are in the backseat together, cuddled close. It’s been hours since the incident and though Brenda has been able to keep it mostly together, Sharon looks worse for the wear. She has tear streaks staining her cheeks, more tears still flowing every so often. Her eyes are currently closed, and Brenda isn’t sure she hasn’t actually fallen asleep from exhaustion.
“Baby?” she whispers, gently shaking Sharon’s arm and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
Sharon hums in response, eyes still closed.
“Sharon, baby, we’re home.”
Sharon slowly opens her eyes and lets Brenda lead her out of the car. “Thank you, Sergeant Gabriel.”
“My pleasure, Ma’am,” he replies. “Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you up?”
“No, we’re fine, Sergeant,” Brenda says. “Thank you.”
Brenda leads Sharon into the condo and walks her straight into the bathroom. Sharon lets herself be led, lets Brenda undress her and get her settled underneath steaming hot water in the shower. Then Brenda undresses herself and joins her, both of them coming together immediately, wrapping their arms around each other.
“I’m here,” Brenda whispers repeatedly, stroking Sharon’s hair, caressing her back. “I’m right here with you, baby.”
Sharon can’t help but laugh. “You’re the one who almost died, yet I’m the one who can’t stop crying.”
“You watched someone point a gun at me, baby, and you shot a man protectin’ me. You’re allowed to react to that.”
“I could’ve lost you.”
“But you didn’t. You didn’t lose me. I’m right here, and I’m all yours—always.”
Together, they clean the awful day away from their spent bodies. Brenda carefully washes Sharon’s hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she does. She washes Sharon’s body, softly caressing wet, slick bare skin. Eventually, she slips a hand between Sharon’s thighs, met with a different kind of wetness and a very welcoming warmth.
She lets her lips drift down Sharon’s throat and lower, her destination clear, but Sharon tangles a hand in her hair and pulls gently, bringing their eyes to meet.
“Stay up here with me,” Sharon pleads.
Brenda understands Sharon’s need and traces kisses back up her body, to her lips, allowing two fingers to gently slip inside her. Sharon moans into her mouth as her own fingers drift between Brenda’s legs, mirroring Brenda’s movements.
It takes Brenda by surprise and has her gasping into Sharon’s mouth, thrusting her own fingers harder, deeper. Sharon does the same. They work each other’s bodies like magic, instinctively anticipating and matching the other’s movements. When they come, it’s simultaneous, both of them convulsing under the spray of hot water, skin against skin, and kissing with fervor.
“Marry me,” Brenda says when they’ve both come down, still clinging to each other.
“What?”
“I know you’re still married—and I’m not divorced yet—but…I wanna know that once we get all that settled, you’ll marry me.”
Sharon looks at Brenda, making sure to make direct eye contact, and says, “Yes.” Then she kisses her. “Yes, Brenda Leigh, I’ll marry you.”
It’s the water going cold that eventually causes them to leave the comfort of the shower. They settle on the couch, cuddled under a blanket with soft instrumental music on in the background. It’s something that’s always soothed Sharon, and Brenda had learned to love it by association. There’s something about just sitting together quietly and holding each other that feels right tonight.
Sharon, however, has something she finally wants to tell Brenda. They’ve been sitting for a while, Brenda gently combing her fingers through Sharon’s hair, when Sharon says, “By the way, I think you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve completed my investigation.”
Brenda looks at her curiously, surprised she’s chosen right now to bring this up. “Oh? You finished your background on Chief Pope?”
“I didn’t say I was doing a background check on Chief Pope.”
That has Brenda even more curious.
“As the LAPD's women's coordinator, I am on the search committee for our new boss. The Mayor and the Police Commission want a strong female candidate in the mix.”
Brenda’s face starts to pale as she understands what Sharon is saying.
“You are the highest-ranking woman in the department now, so…” Sharon leans over and reaches into her bag, pulling out a file and handing it to Brenda.
“What’s this?”
“It’s an application,” Sharon says, reaching for Brenda’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “For the Chief of the LAPD.”
Brenda is clearly in shock, mouth agape as she stares at Sharon.
“All candidates need to get one in within the next two weeks.”
Brenda opens it carefully with awe on her face; she’s still having trouble processing this. “I see it’s…already been filled out for me.”
“All it needs is your signature, honey.”
“But—”
“You showed great bravery today, Brenda Leigh, and you do every day. You lead your squad beautifully and you make such a difference in this city. The LAPD needs you.” Sharon turns slightly so their eyes meet. “Just like I need you.”
“I-I couldn’t possibly—”
“Yes, honey, you can.”
Brenda takes a moment. On a professional level, she…well, she supposes she does understand where Sharon is coming from. But on a personal one— “But they’ll…they’ll look into my personal life, Sharon—our personal life. They’ll find out that we’re—”
Sharon quiets her with a kiss. Then she brushes some hair out of her face. “Honey, we’ve already outed ourselves twice today—at the crime scene and to Fritz—”
Brenda shudders just at the sound of his name.
“—And I’ve been planning for this long before that.” She takes Brenda’s hands in her own. “I’m not afraid, Brenda Leigh, and I’m not ashamed of you. I am proud to be your lover—to love you—and I will accept any scrutiny anyone has to give us for it. When they come asking questions, we tell the truth. If they don’t like it, well, that’s their decision, but I for one, am tired of hiding. And I’m tired of not being with you—of not being able to show the world that I’m with you. I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
Somewhere in Sharon’s confession of love, Brenda starts crying—tears of joy, tears of regret, tears of relief.
“What do you say, honey?”
“Ch-Chief of Police?” Brenda asks.
Sharon nods. “Brenda Leigh Johnson, Chief of Police. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Brenda only nods, eyes not leaving Sharon’s.
“Sign it then?”
Again, Brenda only nods, accepting the pen Sharon offers her. She turns to the last page of the application, takes a deep breath, takes a look into Sharon’s eyes, and signs the page.
Sharon rewards her for it with a kiss. “I’m so proud of you,” she says.
Brenda pulls her in for a deeper kiss. “I don’t know how I ever lived without you, Sharon Raydor.”
Sharon smiles, leans in for a kiss. “You’ll never have to again. I promise.”
They’ve both stopped keeping score long ago—the ultimate win for them both had been getting back together, after all, finding their way back to each other. Still, in the back of her mind, Brenda is always aware that Sharon holds the lead. Now, though, she knows the score is tied—or maybe she’s even one up because getting to spend the rest of her life with Sharon? That’s got to be two points in her favor at the very least—maybe even more.
Then again, Sharon would probably argue that this is her win, too.
Ultimately it doesn’t matter at all. They’ve set the score even; they’re ending up exactly as they should and exactly how they want to: together.
* * *
Epilogue
The upside of their relationship being publicly out at the precinct is that no one is ever surprised anymore to see Sharon in Major Crimes. So really, it’s no shock to anyone when, on the day of Brenda’s scheduled interview for Chief of Police, Sharon storms through the murder room, sights set on Brenda’s office, threatening, “Brenda Leigh, if you are not dressed and ready for your interview, I swear to god I am going to—” She stops dead in her tracks when she enters the office and sees her girlfriend.
Brenda is a vision, wearing the bright red dress with white accents that Sharon distinctly remembers from the night of their first “date”, the first night they slept together. She’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, changing into fancier heels.
“Honey, you look—” she stops herself this time when she sees Brenda fidgeting nervously in the mirror, adjusting her hair with a dissatisfied pout. She comes up behind Brenda, wrapping her arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “May I ask you a question.”
“Sure,” Brenda huffs, “Why not?”
“Do you really not want to be Chief of Police?”
“Sharon—”
“I know,” Sharon says gently. “I know we’ve talked about it, but honey—”
“I know,” Brenda interrupts. “I know, too. I know it’s my responsibility as a woman to pave the way for others, blah, blah, blah. Baby, we’ve been through this before—”
“Exactly, Brenda Leigh, we’ve been through this before, and I still don’t understand.”
“I love my job,” Brenda says. “And I love you. We’ve managed to make all this work…maybe I don’t want that to change.”
“But honey, change doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
“I’m happy, Sharon. Really, really happy.”
“And I love that you are, but honey, you have the chance to change the way women move up in rank, the chances women can have—”
Brenda sighs. “I know, baby, I know. You want me to take the job whether I want it or not.”
“I want you to want it, Brenda Leigh, but honestly? Yes. Please make the oh so terrible sacrifice of accepting a promotion that offers you more money, prestige, and power than any other job in the city. And if it will help you with the suffering, you’ll not only be a positive role model for little girls all over this country, but I personally will feel very…” She looks at Brenda through the mirror, making sure their eyes meet. But no, that’s not good enough, she gently turns Brenda around in her arms so they’re face to face. “I will feel very proud to have a Chief that I can truly admire.”
Tears well up behind Brenda’s eyes and she has to look away from Sharon. “That’s not fair, baby, you can’t make me cry before my interview; you’ll ruin my makeup.”
Sharon laughs, pulling Brenda into a hug and kissing the top of her head. “And no matter what happens, Brenda Leigh, I am always proud to call you mine. I love you.”
Brenda looks up to meet Sharon’s gaze. “I love you, too, baby. Thank you.”
“Now, may I escort you across the street to your interview?” Sharon asks.
“Just one more thing,” Brenda says. She walks to her desk and reaches into her bag, pulling out a small, elegant alligator print purse that Sharon clearly recognizes as her own. “Didn’t think you’d mind if I borrowed it,” Brenda says cheekily.
“Not at all.” Sharon offers Brenda her hand. “Shall we?”
Brenda looks at the outstretched hand in wonder. Yes, they’ve come out as a couple to pretty much all of the LAPD, but they’ve never distinctly walked through the building holding hands before. It’s something she knows Sharon five years ago would’ve been horrified of, but here she is, extending the offer with only pride and love in her eyes; there’s no fear. Brenda entwines her own hand with Sharon’s, letting the soft touch soothe her worries about this interview and the prospect of the Chief of Police job in general.
“You and me against the world, baby,” Brenda says as they exit her office.
They’re in the murder room—directly in front of all Brenda’s subordinates and even Chief Pope, who has come to ensure she makes it out of the office and to this interview—when Sharon brings their joined hands to her lips and presses a kiss against Brenda’s. It’s their first real public display of affection since that night Sharon shot fire when Brenda had a gun pointed at her head. It warms Brenda’s heart.
Then Sharon promises, “Always,” and just like that, Brenda knows that no matter what happens in the Mayor’s office today, everything is going to be alright—because she has Sharon and they’re back together again and the score has finally been set.