Title taken from Shakespeare's Macbeth.

Laughter and chatter filled the murder room, dozens of people milling around the Halloween decorations, carved pumpkins, and tables of food. Sharon stood off to one side, as close to the exit as she could be without it being obvious. One hand held her cup of punch close and the other fiddled with her dress, her eyes continually scanning the room in search of her husband. Normally, she wouldn't expect Jack to show up to something like this; normally she wouldn't either, but he had seemed so excited when she mentioned it and agreed on their couple's costume. He had gotten her hopes up again and she'd probably return to an empty condo once again.

Sighing, she gulped down the rest of her drink and tossed the cup in the trash as she walked by, using her now-free hand to pluck the pirate's hat off her head and let it loosely dangle from her fingers. She left the room, not even bothering to make sure no one noticed—she knew very few people in the room really cared for her anyway—and started down the hallway, her boots clicking loudly against the tile.

Halfway to the bathroom, the betrayal overwhelmed her. She stopped and leaned against the wall, burying her face in her hat while she tried to take deep breaths. A few tears leaked out and she carefully wiped them away, jumping when she heard the door to the party open. The hallway was filled with diluted music, but she ignored it and turned around to find somewhere to hide; there's no way she would let any member of the LAPD see her cry for any reason, let alone her worthless and absent husband.

She found an unlocked closet and quickly stepped inside, allowing the door to mostly close behind her. She fumbled for the light and then thought better, instead blindly feeling around for a safe place to lean. Before she could get comfortable, the door to the closet opened. She held her breath and pressed back into the darkness, fingers tightly clutching her hat and praying that whoever it was found what they were looking for and left without knowing she was there.

"Captain Raydor?" Her eyes squeezed closed at her name and she tightened her grip on her hat until her knuckles went white, hoping it was somehow a mistake, someone who was looking for her for some odd reason. "Sharon, I know you're in here." The door opened further and she watched as the light spread until it hit her feet, her legs, and all the way up to her face.

She swallowed and cleared her throat, reluctantly stepping further into the light and silently cursing when she came face to face with Lieutenant Flynn. "Can I help you?"

"I saw you rush in here. Worried something was wrong." He raised an eyebrow and flipped the light on, giving him a full few of her tearstained face. "And something's clearly wrong."

"It's nothing. Fine." She shrugged and patted down her hair before she put her hat back on and settled it into place. He was blocking her exit and she sighed audibly. "It's been a long day, Lieutenant, and I'm not much in the mood for a party full of people who dislike me." She started to push past him, but the sound of the murder room door opening again stopped her shirt.

"Walk out now and there's bound to be rumors." Flynn stepped out of her way, but gave her a pointed look.

"What do you suggest then?" She raised an eyebrow and rested her hands on her hips.

Footsteps approached the closet they stood in and both reacted instantly. Sharon's fingers went for the light switch while Flynn shut the door, encasing them in complete darkness save for the strip of light shining under the door. Neither moved and they barely breathed as they listened to the footsteps gradually grow louder and then fade away. They waited a few more moments before he fumbled for the door and tried to open it.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked, reaching for the handle before he could even respond.

"It won't open…"

She didn't reply, quickly finding out for herself when the handle barely moved. She tried harder, pushing and pulling against the door, but to no avail. She kept trying for several moments until Flynn pushed her hand away.

"It's locked and jiggling it isn't going to do any good."

"Oh my god. Just what this stupid, awful day needs." She groaned and pressed her hands against her face.

Flynn was quiet, watching her silhouette as his eyes started adjusting to the darkness. He didn't want to make the situation worse by adding that it was unlikely they'd get out without rumors spreading. She turned around and after a moment, sat down on a large bucket in the corner. He became aware of how small the closet really was with both of them inside and the door shut. Sighing, he leaned against the door and let his own hat fall to the ground.

"My husband was supposed to be here," she murmured after what felt like minutes of tense silence. "He came home last week. He didn't ask for money or anything, he just came home…"

He had heard so many horror stories about Jackson Raydor, both drunk and sober, and his heart went out to the woman married to that. A woman very similar to his own ex-wife. It also helped him understand a little more about why Captain Raydor was like she was and that didn't help the strange feelings he already had for her.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this. You don't like me." Her voice softened and he couldn't tell if she was crying or not.

He wasn't sure if it was the punch or the dark closet, but he knelt down in front of her, ignoring how his knees protested at the hard tile.

"Captain Raydor… Sharon…" He sighed and looked down for a moment. "You are… an amazing woman." He stopped, knowing he was getting into very dangerous territory. But he had never seen her break so much as a sweat and wondered if the lines between safe and dangerous even existed in this dark closet.

She sniffled, but kept her head in her hands.

"You are one of the highest ranking women in the LAPD, a damn good shot, and a damn good cop. I don't know anything about you as a wife or a mother, but I've seen your kids, I've heard about them, and they seem like they were raised by a great woman."

Her head raised enough for her to look at him, their eyes adjusted enough to make out each other's expression. "You don't… need to do this. We can just sit quietly until someone gets us out and we deal with whatever happens then…" Her voice broke, put she pushed on and swallowed.

"You think I'm saying this to get on your good side?"

"I don't know why you're doing this… How much of that punch did you drink?"

"None, it was spiked." He allowed a small smile to cross his lips and shifted, deciding to just sit on the ground in front of her. "I don't know why I'm saying this, but I mean every word of it. You don't deserve someone who runs out on you…"

She let out a quiet but bitter laugh and shook her head. "I committed to this relationship, this marriage, when I was 19 years old… I think I'm getting exactly what I deserve. An empty house, an absent husband, a job where everyone loathes me…"

Her voice grew shaky and she stood up, but Andy's close proximity threw her off balance. She started to fall over, but he managed to rise to his knees and grab her, holding her up. Only after she was stabilized did he realize that one of his hands rested on her waist and the other on her thigh underneath her dress. He quickly pulled his hands back and clenched them into fists by his side, thanking the darkness for hiding any embarrassing reactions he might start feeling.

"Shit, I'm sorry… I didn't mean… I just… You fell…" He cleared his throat and carefully stood up, brushing his hand through his hair and definitely hating how thin his costume pants were.

She waved her hand and he felt the brief movement of air from how close they were. "Just so we're in agreement… Everything that's happened in here is staying in here. I'll write you up and send you to so many sensitivity trainings…." Her voice held a note of warning, but it was almost overshadowed by her pleading tone.

He held his hands up and shook his head. "I wouldn't dream of it." He paused. "No one would believe me, anyway."

"No, I suppose not." She started to sit down again, but stopped with the unmistakable sound of ripping fabric. She immediately groaned and threw her head back. "God, I could use just one break today. One thing to go in my favor." She tried to move again, but Andy could tell she was stuck.

"Hang on, I'll help." He carefully reached around her, trying not to touch her too much but needing to feel for where her costume was stuck.

He found the tense fabric and followed it to the shelf it was caught on. He stepped closer and gently worked it free, feeling the tear to try to determine how bad it was.

"It doesn't seem too bad…" he murmured, looking down at her and realizing how close they stood.

She looked up and let out a soft breath. "Thank you…"

"Sometimes we all need… a helping hand. Or someone to listen. A friend."

"And if we need… want… something more?" She quickly shook her head and looked down.

"Everything stays in this room?" She returned her gaze to him, her expression filled with confusion.

"Yes…"

He gave a short nod and moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him or protest. His hand cupped her cheek and gently drew her face to his, their lips connecting ever so softly. She returned the kiss, her hands slowly coming up to rest against his chest and her fingers tangling in the loose folds of his shirt. She let out a soft gasp, and then it all ended in a flash of light.

The door was yanked open, blinding light filling the room. Sharon, her back to the wall, instinctively turned away from the doorway while Andy took several steps back.

"I'm grabbin' a mop, calm down in there!" Brenda's thick accent filled the room, followed by her gasp and she finally looked in to find it occupied by Sharon and Andy. "O-Oh…"

"Chief, it's not what it looks like," Andy immediately spoke up, gesturing between him and Sharon. "We…"

"Bathroom was out of paper towels," Sharon interjected. "Lieutenant Flynn couldn't figure out where to get more and in the interest of cleanliness, I showed him the closet."

"The door shut behind us and locked us in," he finished.

Brenda raised an eyebrow and looked between them, a mixture of confusion and disbelief flickering across her face. "I see… Listen, I don't care what ya'll do, just keep it outta work. And don't break any rules." She shook her head and held her hand out for the mop by Sharon.

Sharon handed her the mop with a soft scoff. "You're one to talk about not breaking the rules."

The other woman rolled her eyes and walked away without another word, leaving Sharon and Andy alone once again. Sharon hesitated a moment and then stepped out of the closet, glancing back to make sure the rip really wasn't that bad.

"Sharon…"

"Goodnight, Lieutenant. I… have an empty condo to return to."

He watched her, taking a moment to appreciate how much more revealing her pirate captain outfit was compared to her usual clothes. "If you ever need a friend," he made sure to emphasize the word as he watched her.

She smiled a little, but turned and walked away without replying. Andy sighed and watched her go, waiting until she was out of sight before he shut the closet door behind him. He knew there was no chance of anything happening with Sharon, even if she left her asshole husband. They worked together and that was one line he knew she'd never cross.