Disclaimer: I still do not own the lovely Brenda Leigh and her Sharon. Or The Closer. Or Major Crimes.
AN: This story is set years back when Brenda was still working in DC. Her affair with Pope has just ended and she happens to meet Sharon in a chocolate infused surrounding.


She feels an unfamiliar sting at the back of her weary eyes; she likes to blame it on the third glass of deep red wine she is currently finding herself lost into. The lights were much brighter at the bar the blonde was leaning on, leaving the liquid to look almost scarlet. It is the vibrant red colour that hurts her eyes, she tells herself again before she takes one last swig, draining the glass as she lets the fine Merlot sway through her rather petite figure.

Leaving enough notes on the bar to take care of her very own hour of self-indulgence in one of the most high end bars of Washington D.C., the blonde makes an attempt to leave, careful not to let her expensive black dress linger longer on the dark velvet of the bar stool than necessary. As she reaches down for a giant black purse that was slightly out of proportion compared to her small frame, her aching eyes take in the sea of couples scattered around a variety of dimly lit tables.

She leaves the bar on a lonesome dark cloud surrounded by the laughter and whispers between lovers. A hint of bitterness lingers on her tongue but she once again blames it on the wine. It isn't until she is faced with the surprisingly crowded street that the tears that she had been gathering up since that afternoon are threatening to spill all over her rosy cheeks.

It was a good thing then that working for the CIA for seven years had taught Brenda Leigh Johnson not to feel threatened by anything, not even her very own tears. Guided by nothing but the streetlights, the blonde waltzes through the city, narrowing her brown eyes, crinkling her tiny nose and pouting her unmistakable full lips along the way.

All of a sudden the pout grows stronger as her eyes shift to a darker shade of brown the second she lets her nose lead the way to a vintage diner across the street. "Chocolate-cherry pie!" rolls happily from the blonde's lips as she pushes the glass door open. The small place is loaded with a wide variety of people and Brenda immediately notes with a certain satisfaction that this time, couples are more an exception than a rule.

Unfortunately, that also meant that there are no more coffee and pie loving seats available at the bar. The blonde stands fidgeting by the jukebox, her eyes scanning the diner, her pout growing stronger every second as she realizes that in addition to the packed bar, all of the red leather booths are occupied as well. She inwardly curses the families, deciding in her own selfish way that those children couldn't possibly be craving coffee and chocolate as much as she did.

As if on cue, two dark-haired teenagers bolt up from one of the booths to make their way towards the door, followed by a smart yet rough looking man of fifty-something who keeps on looking over his shoulder. The two teens come to a stop aside Brenda, waiting patiently for the man to catch up with them. As the man holds the door open for the youngest of the two, a handsome boy with a strong jaw and pale features, Brenda can't help but overhear him mutter to what she assumes are his children: "Don't worry about your mother, Ricky, she will come to her senses, she always does."

The blonde couldn't care less about the man, his children and their issues with the mother; she was on a mission. A resolute look gracing her face, Brenda walks over to the booth she had claimed all hers the second their previous occupants had passed right by her. Right as she is about to slide into the red leather seat, she notices that there is still someone sitting on the opposite side of the booth. A chestnut curtain of luxurious hair prohibits Brenda Leigh from studying the woman's face, much to the blonde's dismay.

She is this close to a delicious piece of pie – or maybe two - and this woman with Hollywood hair is not going to keep her from getting what she wants. Brenda coughs politely, trying to get the woman's attention, but the small figure didn't even flinch. Narrowing her eyes for the umpteenth time that evening, the blonde leans closer to the dark brown tresses: "Scuse me ma'am. Are you finished here?"

Brenda didn't know what she had been expecting when she addressed the woman, but she certainly hadn't counted on the two piercing eyes of the most beautiful shade of green that looked up from behind the curtain of hair. The blonde's immediate reaction is to stop breathing as she takes in the gorgeous pale face that is only centimeters away from her own. The owner of the green orbs is older than the blonde, but the latter feels her cheeks flush red as she realizes that she is at least ten times more beautiful than her young years were. As she studies the woman's impressive jaw, Brenda thinks to herself that she looks vaguely familiar.

A monotone, almost robotic "I'd like to finish my pancakes before I leave" ends the blonde's daze. Brenda Leigh recovers within seconds, sending her green eyed opponent the poutiest of all pouts, before cheerily responding: "Well then, would you mind some company? This place is awfully packed for a Wednesday night!" Before the chestnut haired woman could answer, Brenda was already reaching for the menu, whilst waving her hand in the air for a waiter to come get her order.

Her attention divided between the chocolate-cherry pie and chocolate-apricot pie on the menu, the blonde isn't exactly sure but she can almost swear she heard the brunette mutter in that same flat voice: "Doesn't seem like I have a choice now, do I?" A young girl in a red and white uniform dress prevents the chocolate craving woman from rewarding her companion with a grim reply. "Good evening miss! Welcome to Lita's! Can I take your order?"

"Hi! Yes, I.., I would like a piece of chocolate-cherry pie and a large coffee please." Brenda Leigh looks up at the waitress with sparkling brown eyes, her hands clasped in her lap, feeling her whole being relax for the first time that day. As the waitress nods and makes an attempt at clearing the empty plates off the table, the blonde notices that the other woman still hasn't touched her pancakes. With a voice sweet as sugar, she addresses the brunette once again: "Would you like another coffee to wash those down?"

For the second time that evening, Brenda feels those bright green eyes pierce right through her, but this time she thinks she can detect some warmth in them that was definitely lacking a few minutes prior. The waitress looks expectantly at the brunette until the latter flatly utters: "Another coffee, please." Brenda looks pleased with herself, somehow attributing it to her presence that the stoic woman was ordering another drink. Before the waitress can walk away, the blonde softly taps her elbow: "I think I'd like an extra piece of pie, thank you. Chocolate-apricot if you please, thank you!"