Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson

The phone wasn't ringing. No way was the phone ringing. Not now. Not at- she rolled over, glanced at the clock, and groaned- 2 o'clock in the morning. She was debating not answering the phone at all, or perhaps throwing it out the window if she could somehow muster the energy, when Fritz nudged her shoulder.

"Answer the phone, Brenda," he slurred, not even bothering to open his eyes.

She admitted to herself that her cell phone was, in fact, ringing, and she did have to answer.

"Deputy Chief Johnson," she said, not even attempting to keep the displeasure out of her voice.

"Brenda, it's Chief Pope," as if Brenda didn't immediately recognize the voice. She also recognized his tone; he was worried. "I need you to get your squad together and get down to Captain Raydor's house, now."

"Raydor?" she asked, not entirely sure she'd heard right. "What in the hell is going on?"

"It seems the Captain disturbed a burglar in her home, and she shot him. I need you down there, right away. I'll text you the address. And Brenda?"

She was already out of bed and halfway dressed. "What?"

"Be nice."

He hung up just as Brenda was about to grumble something about how it was Raydor who needed to be nice, after all that woman was the one who shot a man in her own home; Brenda was just trying to sleep, having for once gone to bed at a decent hour. Brenda hadn't bothered asking why her squad was investigating instead of Raydor's; FID couldn't investigate their own boss without appearing biased. Which is not to say that Major Crimes could investigate without bias, just that it looked better on paper. She sighed, turned on the coffee pot and began calling her team, starting with Flynn.

When she heard his voice on the other end of the line, she smiled. At least she wasn't the only one who'd been fast asleep this Friday night.

"Lieutenant, I need you to get your things together and meet me down at Captain Raydor's house as quickly as possible."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Brenda assumed Andy was trying to convince himself he wasn't dreaming, just as she had been moments before, so she continued, "She interrupted a burglar in her home and… Lieutenant?" she looked down at her phone in surprise. He'd hung up! She tried calling him back, but the phone rang several times before she heard his familiar, if slightly sarcastic, voicemail. She hung up in a huff, and continued calling the rest of her team.

Upon pulling up in front of Sharon Raydor's home, Brenda had one thought: Fritz would love this place. The house was large, larger than Brenda had expected, with an immaculately kept (and disturbingly green) lawn, a wide porch, and more planters, pots and hanging baskets of flowers than Brenda had ever seen in her life. The flowers were the part that surprised her the most; Brenda had a hard time reconciling her image of that woman, that frosty bitch, with the bright and beautiful flowers that covered nearly every available inch of space in the yard.

The next thing Brenda noticed was much less off-putting: Will Pope, in uniform, pacing in the driveway in front of the house. Brenda found a space to park between the black-and-whites and her squad's own vehicles, got out of her car, straightened her dress, and approached him with as much confidence as she could muster.

"Good morning, Chief Pope," she said, with a little smile as she watched Lieutenants Provenza and Tao, Sergeant Gabriel, Detective Sanchez and Buzz all broke from their huddle a few feet away and begin walking in her direction. "Gentlemen," she nodded. "Where's Lieutenant Flynn?" she asked, looking around. She was beginning to worry he'd had a heart attack or something equally catastrophic. He hadn't answered any of her calls.

"He's inside with Captain Raydor," Pope said, with no small amount of chagrin.

"How on earth did he get here so fast?" Brenda asked, surprised. She hadn't even told him the address!

Pope, on the other hand, had other things on his mind. "If we could all please turn our attention to the fact that Captain Raydor, the head of the Force Investigation Division, killed a man in her home tonight-"

"Killed? You didn't say killed. You said shot. She killed him?" Brenda asked, unsure of whether she should be mortified for Raydor or overjoyed at the irony. Provenza had clearly made up his mind, his smirk was dangerously close to becoming a full-fledged smile.

"Yes, she did, and I would remind you that her children were home at the time, so please, please, for the love of all things holy, try to remember that this is a fellow officer we're talking about here. I don't want this investigation tainted by your little… whatever it is you have going on with Raydor."

"I appreciate your confidence in my professionalism, Chief. Now, where's the body? Where are my witnesses?"

"Inside. This way." And with that Pope turned on one very shiny heel and headed off towards the house, Brenda and her team following behind. Down the sidewalk, up three brick stairs, across the wide, wooden porch, through the red-painted front door and finally there, in the hardwood-floored, yellow-walled foyer, at the foot of a sweeping flight stairs and to the left of a wide, plushly furnished living room lay the body of a man with scruffy hair and dark clothes, and several holes in his chest. The door had obviously been forced open, and Brenda had no doubt that the muscular man at her feet would have been capable of breaking down the door. Other, less savory deeds he might have been capable of flashed in her mind, but they disappeared as quickly as they came.

"Alright, any idea who he is?" she asked the coroner's assistant and forensics personnel gathered around the corpse.

"No ID, nothing in his pockets, but he was carrying this," the coroner's assistant answered, rising up off the floor and holding a handgun out to Brenda. She pulled her gloves out of her purse, tugged them and accepted the gun.

".45 caliber. Nice gun," she mused, turning it over in her hands before passing it to Lieutenant Tao. She didn't need to tell him what to do.

"I'll run it through the lab, see if maybe our guy used it in another robbery," Tao said quickly.

Brenda gave the dead man in the foyer one last look before she moved towards the rest of the house. She opened her mouth to ask where she could find Captain Raydor as she entered the living room, but before she could get the words out she discovered the Ice Queen herself, sitting on a couch surrounded by her children, and Andy Flynn kneeling in the floor in front of her, talking to Raydor in a voice too low for Brenda to hear.

There were many things in that living room that surprised Brenda Leigh Johnson, but it seemed tonight would be a night for surprises.

First there was the room itself, the walls painted the same warm shade of yellow as the hallway, pictures on every table top, paintings of bridges and mountain vistas on the walls. There were backpacks and toys and shoes scattered in the corners of the room, and the bookshelves housed crime noir novels next to chapter books and containers of play-doh. It wasn't exactly the immaculate, plastic-covered chamber Brenda had pictured; it truly was a living room, a place the whole family laid claim to.

The family surprised Brenda, too. Raydor was sitting in the middle of the couch, her arms slung wide to accommodate her three teenage daughters, who, despite being tanner than Brenda expected, could each pass for carbon-copies of their mother. Most surprising was a little boy, barely more than a toddler, still small enough to fit on his mother's lap, his arms slung around her neck and a blue blanket clutched in his hands. Brenda hadn't realized that any of Raydor's children were that young, and she certainly hadn't expected to find four of them. The children were still in their pajamas, and they clung to as much of Sharon as they could reach, four sets of dark brown eyes watching their mother and the police officers milling around their home with apprehension and fear.

Raydor herself looked different; her long brown hair hung down in unruly curls, she wore sweatpants and a white tank top, no make-up, her feet bare on the carpet. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and her green eyes were watching Flynn intently.

Most of her squad dispersed throughout the house, knowing from many, many previous crime scenes exactly what their boss wanted. Provenza, on the other hand, stayed close to the Deputy Chief, searching for his partner. The reality of a dead man in Raydor's home had made him decidedly less gleeful, and he treated the house with respect, making none of his usual quips.

For her part, Brenda didn't waste time feeling uncomfortable intruding on Raydor's home; she cleared her throat to get the Captain's attention. In unison the four brunette Raydor girls, and Lieutenant Flynn on the floor, snapped their heads up and turned in her direction. The little boy continued to cling to his mother. There was no animosity on Sharon Raydor's face, just exhaustion, and something that looked remarkably like sadness. Flynn jumped to his feet and stepped away from the couch, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking almost as if he felt guilty for having been caught behaving kindly towards Raydor.

"Captain," Brenda said, trying to sound as polite and understanding as she could at 3 o'clock in the morning.

"Chief Johnson," she sighed in reply, "I suppose you'll be wanting to take my statement."

Brenda nodded and opened her mouth to ask if the Captain might prefer to tell her story in private, but Sharon Raydor beat her to the punch. Raydor slipped to her feet, and deposited her son in her oldest daughter's lap. She kissed all four of the children on their foreheads before turning to Brenda.

"Perhaps we should speak in the kitchen." Raydor didn't wait for a response before she headed off in the direction of the kitchen in back of the house.

Brenda nodded, and motioned for Flynn and Provenza, who was still hanging around, to follow her. The three of them together beat a path across the well worn carpet and into the kitchen, a wide open room with a large center island, lots of windows, and two French doors that opened out onto a patio and a spacious backyard. Brenda had to wonder where Raydor got the money for a place like this.

"Would you like some coffee?" Sharon asked, not expecting them to say yes.

"No, thank you, Captain. If you don't mind, why don't we jump right in here with your statement," Brenda answered, slightly put off by the idea of Raydor in a domestic situation. Provenza started to ask her for a cup when Flynn elbowed him hard in the ribs.

Sharon nodded, closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and began. "Earlier this evening, around 1:30 am I was sitting out there" –she pointed her finger to the chairs on the other side of the French doors- "on the patio with my daughter Emma when we heard someone attempting to come in through the front door. We came back into the kitchen, I told Emma to get down behind the island and not to move, I retrieved my weapon-"

"Wait a minute; where was your gun?" Brenda interrupted. She wasn't surprised at Raydor's statement thus far; it had been as emotionless and precise as that woman always was.

Raydor pointed, "In the liquor cabinet, above the refrigerator. I can't even get to it without standing on a chair, and the children know not to touch it. Ever."

Brenda nodded, and motioned for the Captain to continue.

"So, I retrieved my weapon, and I heard the intruder break down the door. I entered the hallway, and announced myself. I told him I was an LAPD officer. I found him halfway up the stairs. I announced myself a second time, and instructed him to put down his weapon. He did not. He turned and pointed his weapon at me, and I shot him. My children sleep upstairs, Chief Johnson," she added, as if she really needed to say it out loud. There was a look in Sharon Raydor's eyes that told Brenda this woman would quite literally kill to protect her kids.

"And you have no idea who this man is? What were you and your daughter doing up so late?" Brenda had a lot more questions, like why the hell Raydor kept her gun in her liquor cabinet and where was the father of all those dark-haired children in the living room? She had never seen Raydor wear a wedding ring, and she suddenly found herself a great deal more interested in the Captain's private life than she had ever been previously.

"Emma had just come home, she'd been out with some friends. She's 19," Raydor added, when she saw the look on Brenda's face. "I was still awake, because I was waiting for her-"

"No, you were awake because you're always awake. You haven't slept more than three hours a night in a year." The four of them turned to face the intruder, and found Raydor's oldest daughter in the door way, still wearing a sparkling silver dress, her hair still up and her make-up still on. She looked like she'd stepped out of club only moments before, but her dark eyes were stormy as she watched her mother.

"You having trouble sleeping, Captain?" Brenda asked, wondering if perhaps this wasn't a random break-in. If Raydor had a case that was keeping her up at night, maybe it had something to do with the dead man in the hallway.

Raydor wasn't happy about the turn of events. "That's really none of your business, Chief," she answered frostily.

"She hasn't slept all the way through the night since dad died," Emma said, suddenly looking much older, and much sadder than she had any right to.

"Jack died?" Provenza and Brenda turned to Flynn, more than a little shocked. They were the first words he'd said since being discovered in the living room. He looked devastated at the news. "Sharon, I'm so sorry."

"Oh, as if you care, Andy!" Raydor exploded suddenly, and Brenda found herself grateful they hadn't asked for coffee. She didn't want Raydor to have any ammunition should she decide to start throwing things. "Don't think I don't know what you call me behind my back. 'The Wicked Witch', 'the Snow Queen', Jesus, Andy you were the worst of all because I trusted you the most and now you're right there with them! No, I haven't been sleeping! I find myself surrounded by people who hate me at work, I've lost my husband and I have four children to take care of on my own so excuse me if I find it difficult to tuck myself in and have pleasant dreams at night." She disappeared through the French doors and onto the patio before anyone could say another word, and Flynn tore off after her without an explanation.

Brenda was momentarily distracted by a rustling sound in the entryway of the living room, and turned to see Sharon's son, droopy-eyed and wobbly on his feet, dragging his blanket. Emma bent and scooped the child up into her arms, carrying him back to the couch without another word. Brenda looked at Provenza, who simply shrugged. It was going to be a long night.