"Karma's a bitch, Chief," Lieutenant Provenza announced triumphantly, barely containing a smug smile as he handed his superior officer a new case file. "It seems we've got another officer-involved shooting on our hands, and guess who got a little too trigger-happy this time?"

"I don't have time for guessing games, Lieutenant," Brenda-Leigh Johnson declared dismissively, "Just bring me up to speed."

Provenza was all-too-happy to oblige. "Detective Morales from Robbery-Homicide was off-duty last night, and stopped by his local grocery store on the way home from his sister's house. Long story short; he finds himself in the middle of an armed robbery; the clerk's freaking out, the shooter's getting antsy, and he tries to contain the situation before anyone gets hurt. He identifies himself, tries to talk the guy down, but the perp doesn't take well to being reasoned with and starts firing off a few rounds. Morales fires back, takes down the shooter with a clean shot to the shoulder, but another guy gets caught in the crossfire as he's making a beeline for the door and takes a bullet to the arm."

"And how, exactly, does this concern the Major Crimes Division, Lieutenant?" Brenda demanded impatiently, "I'm sure Commander Taylor would prefer to deal with this… unfortunate incident himself, especially as it concerns one of his own officers."

"Chief, he hasn't got to the punch line yet," Lieutenant Andy Flynn interjected, crossing the room to stand besides Provenza. They shared an amused glance, but Brenda continued to look nonplussed.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I fail to see the humour in this situation."

"Oh you will, Chief. You will," Provenza assured her, determined to finish his exposition. "The shooter is claiming that Morales fired at him first, and a couple of lowlife gang-bangers who were in the store at the time are backing him up. There was no tape in the security camera, but Taylor thinks that the so-called civilian was actually the shooter's lookout, and he's trying to get him to roll. Of course, Raydor was all over this like white on rice – "

Brenda rolled her eyes heavenward, "Then Commander Taylor certainly has his work cut out for him. Lord knows, I've had enough dealings with that woman to last me a lifetime."

"Well, that's the thing, Chief," Flynn said jubilantly, "Captain Raydor thought that Taylor was clutching at straws with the connection between the shooter and the victim, so she decided to do a little investigating of her own. She'd just finished up with the vic's family in Lincoln Heights, when this guy came out of nowhere and cornered her in an alleyway. Apparently, he got a little rough with her and so…"

Flynn paused for dramatic effect, but Brenda was having none of it,

"And so what, Lieutenant?"

"She shot him, Chief. Right in the gut. It's 50/50 whether he's going to make it."

Brenda gaped at her colleague in disbelief. "You're telling me that Captain Raydor shot an unarmed man, Lieutenant Flynn?"

"Well, we're talking about gang territory here, so he was probably packing heat, but a preliminary analysis of the scene shows that there's only one casing, and it came from her ammo."

"It's OK, Chief, you can laugh," Provenza informed her, not making any effort to conceal his own delight at the developments.

Brenda appeared lost in thought for a moment, and then turned her attention to her subordinate. "Who performed the initial examination of the crime scene, Lieutenant? The FID?"

"Well, that's what we were wondering, Chief," Flynn replied, his eyes taking on a mischievous sparkle, "Usually we would share jurisdiction when it comes to investigating matters like this, but the FID are supposed to be an autonomous division with no in-house loyalties to the LAPD, so it could be - "

"A conflict of interest for them to investigate one of their own officers?" Brenda concluded, her brow furrowing.

Provenza rubbed his hands together in sweet anticipation. "Got it in one, Chief."

"Well, then, I suppose we'd better pay Captain Raydor a visit, gentleman. After all, it wouldn't be fair for her to receive preferential treatment."

Captain Sharon Raydor visibly jumped when Chief Johnson unceremoniously pulled back the partition and barged into her hospital cubicle, with Flynn and Provenza trailing her like a pair of over-eager puppy dogs. Clutching her stomach, she turned onto her side, deliberately concealing her face from view. "Chief Johnson," she murmured disdainfully, "To what do I owe this… pleasure?"

"Captain Raydor," Brenda countered, trying not to be exasperated by the fact that she couldn't see her nemesis' expression, "As you have so… graciously informed us in the past, when an officer discharges their weapon, they are duty-bound to stay at the scene until an investigating officer arrives to take their statement. Would you kindly explain to me why, then, you saw fit to leave - "

"I left the scene," Raydor interrupted, her tone dripping with condescension, "Because I required immediate medical attention."

"She looks fine to me," Provenza muttered, prompting a glare from his superior officer.

"That's enough, Lieutenant."

"And because," Raydor continued, undeterred, "I had already given a comprehensive account of events to my colleague, Captain Peterson."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I've consulted with Chief Pope, and Captain Peterson isn't dealing with this case," Brenda informed her brusquely, "I am. And I like to take my own statements, Captain. So if you wouldn't mind – "

"Oh, I would mind, Chief Johnson," Captain Raydor drew out in a measured tone, "I would mind a great deal."

"Captain, you of all people should know that speed is of the essence in dealing with these matters," Brenda admonished irritably. "Now, Chief Pope is concerned about the media fallout when it emerges that an FID officer is facing allegations of police brutality, so the sooner we clear this up, the better."

When no response was forthcoming, Brenda opened up her notebook and pulled out a pen. "Details, Captain! I need details."

"Fine," Raydor retorted, somehow managing to make the word sound as if it was eight syllables long. "A heavy-set Hispanic male - approximately 5"9 and thirty years of age - accosted me when I was leaving the Hernandez residence. He dragged me into an adjacent alleyway, and… I employed the necessary amount of force to safeguard my welfare."

Brenda didn't fail to notice the glaring omissions in Raydor's statement. "So you acted in self-defence?"

"Of course. Vigilante tactics might be acceptable in your division, Chief Johnson, but they're not in mine."

"What did this man say to you, Captain? What did he do?"

"I believe he used words to the effect of…" Raydor's tone was steeped in distaste, "'If you say another word, I'll blow your brains out, you gringa bitch.'"

"I know the feeling," Provenza muttered to Flynn, making a pitiful attempt to muffle his words, "When this guy gets out of intensive care, remind me to send him some flowers."

"So he threatened you?" Chief Johnson clarified, sending another warning glance in the duos' direction.

"That's what I inferred from the gun pressed against my temple, yes."

"Did you see the gun?"

"After the fact, yes… but at the time, no," Raydor admitted, her tone laced with sarcasm, "My peripheral vision only extends so far."

"So you couldn't say with any certainty that it was a gun, until the situation had been resolved?"

"Well, Chief Johnson, let me see. The muzzle was cold, circular, metallic, and it was pressed against my bare skin. I thought it would be unwise to give this man the benefit of the doubt, and it appears I was right."

"And what else did this man do, Captain, to make you fear for your life? What made you infer that it was his intention to kill you, and not merely threaten you, or steal your personal possessions?"

The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity.

"Captain Raydor, I am your superior officer, and I would appreciate it if you had the courtesy to look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Slowly, reluctantly, Raydor turned around, and Brenda couldn't contain a gasp of surprise when she realised that the Captain's left eye was swollen shut amidst a cluster of ugly, purple bruising.

"Ooo, now that's gotta hurt," Flynn crowed, but promptly closed his mouth when Brenda levelled him with a disapproving stare.

"This man hit you? With his fist, or another object? Did you fight back? At what point did you draw your own weapon, Captain?"

Raydor drew in a laboured breath. "There was a struggle. The alleyway was dark, my vision was limited, but I elbowed him in the stomach, hoping he would lower his guard. He doubled over, but made a quick recovery, and I was unsuccessful in my attempts to wrestle the gun from him. He struck me before I had the opportunity to unholster my own weapon, and then he – "

Raydor flinched when a young Nurse ducked her head around the corner of the partition, seeking permission to enter. After receiving a curt nod in response, she tentatively approached the Captain's bed, proffering a piece of paper to her patient.

"Ms Raydor, I have the results of your – "

"I'll take those," Brenda interjected, snatching the document out of the younger woman's hands, and appeasing her with a warm smile. "Thank you so much."

The Nurse hesitated for a moment, and then nodded, making a hasty departure. Brenda adjusted her glasses and, ignoring the angry protests of her subordinate officer, studied the document in her hands, her features becoming increasingly grave.

"Gentlemen, could you leave us alone for a moment, please?"

"But Chief – " Provenza protested, prompting his superior officer to raise a finger in warning.

"Now, Lieutenants."

Captain Raydor waited until the curtain closed in the wake of their reluctant departure, and then turned to regard her superior officer with carefully-cultivated stoicism, "And then…" she continued, seamlessly picking up from where she left off, "He said he wanted to see how I liked it when he…" Raydor cleared her throat, taking a moment to repair the cracks in her composure, "'poked his dick into my business.'"

Brenda swallowed audibly, crossing the room to sit on the edge of her subordinate's bed. "Captain, do you have reason to believe that this man was affiliated with the shooter in the Morales case?"

Raydor nodded curtly. "I do."

"Then you have my word that my team will help Commander Taylor do whatever it takes to bring these men to justice and free you – and Detective Morales - of any culpability."

Captain Raydor ducked her head obligingly, clearly surprised by her superior officer's impassioned declaration. "Thank you, Chief. "

"You said you gave a detailed statement to your colleague…" Brenda rifled through her notebook, "Captain Peterson?"

"I did."

"Then, given the circumstances, I see no reason for you to repeat yourself. I take it we will have your full co-operation if any further questions arise?"

"Of course."

Brenda hesitated, visibly torn. "Is there someone I can call for you, Captain?"

"No," Raydor said abruptly, although there was no mistaking the wistful quality of her tone, "There's no one. I'm sure that fact won't surprise your colleagues out there," she added sardonically.

"Are you staying overnight, or…?"

"No, I was just…. I was just waiting for the results of the rape kit," Raydor admitted, the words audibly sticking in her throat. "I called Chief Lattimer after the ME finished her examination, and he authorised the fast track."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Brenda apologised, hastily handing them over. "We'll need a copy for our own records, of course."

"Which is why I've already arranged for them to be cc-ed to the necessary parties," the brunette retorted, her tone gradually softening, "However, I would appreciate it if you could take the appropriate steps to prevent them from becoming public knowledge."

"I'll ensure this matter is handled with the utmost discretion," Brenda vowed, giving her subordinate a reassuring smile. "Can I offer you a ride home?"

For the first time that night, Raydor cracked a smile of her own. "Am I to understand that you're offering me a ride in your own car, Chief Johnson?"

Brenda didn't miss the flash of amusement that crossed Raydor's battered features, and she couldn't help but share in it. "Well, unless you'd prefer Lieutenant Provenza to escort you?"

Raydor shook her head, her smile rapidly fading. "Chief Johnson, I appreciate your concern, but I can call a cab."

"No, Captain, I won't hear of it," Brenda objected, shaking her head, "Now, come along, let's get you home."

Brenda wasn't expecting to feel such a potent twinge of concern as she watched her subordinate gingerly manoeuvre herself into an upright position, gather up her possessions, and limp towards the door. Raydor looked exhausted, and her infuriating air of self-importance seemed to have vanished amidst the oversized, nondescript clothing that had obviously been supplied by the hospital. Unthinkingly, Brenda reached out to support the Captain's weakened frame, looping an arm around her waist, and Raydor glanced at her sharply, before gratefully accepting the offer of a shoulder to lean on. Provenza nearly choked on his coffee when Chief Johnson rounded the corner, acting as a personal crutch for the woman who had made it her life's mission to give the MCD a collective migraine.

"Chief?" he asked, sounding truly bewildered.

"We're done for tonight, gentlemen. You can make your own way home."

"But, Chief – " Flynn protested, his concerns clearly falling on deaf ears.

"I'll see you in the morning, Lieutenant."

Brenda was perturbed by the strained silence that had settled over the car since she and Raydor had reached an awkward armistice. She glanced sideways and, seeing the Captain staring unseeingly out of her window, she felt compelled to say something to break the tension.

"I think I understand something of what you're going through, Captain."

"With all due respect, Chief Johnson, I very much doubt that."

Brenda bit her lower lip, swallowing a brusque retort of her own. "Shortly after I joined the LAPD, I was called to investigate the rape and murder of a congresswoman's daughter," Brenda informed her quietly, "I was alone in her apartment, trying to piece together the evidence, when a man appeared out of no-where and attacked me."

Raydor glanced at her superior officer, noticing the way her hands tensed against the steering wheel.

"He was wearing a ski mask, and he overpowered me as if I were nothing more than a rag doll. I tried to fight him off, but he taped my mouth shut with duct tape and bound my hands. It was clearly his intention to…" Brenda trailed off, swallowing audibly, and Raydor studied her intently.

"But he didn't succeed?"

"No, I… I eventually managed to fend him off. It transpired that he was answering a personal ad on a sadomasochistic website – if you can believe such a thing exists, and he thought… he thought he was catering to someone's warped notion of a dream date, so we couldn't prosecute him to the full extent of the law. He accused me of entrapment, Captain. I'm certainly glad I didn't have to contend with you back then. The experience alone was traumatic enough."

"You think I take pleasure in people's misery, Chief Johnson?" Raydor ventured wearily, and Brenda took some time in considering her response.

"No, I… of course not. I understand that you have a job to do and, while I don't always appreciate your methods, your… efficiency is certainly to be commended."

"And I could say the same for you."

Brenda hesitated for a moment, considering the validity of her subordinate's observation. "I'm… sorry if Lieutenants Flynn and Provenza seemed insensitive towards your situation. Obviously they didn't realise the severity of it."

"No, I understand," Raydor confessed, her lips twisting into a bitter smile, "I believe it's what they call poetic justice."

Brenda spared her colleague a fleeting look. "No one deserves this, Captain."

"Mmm," Raydor murmured noncomittally, closing her one good eye and resting her head against the window.

Brenda lapsed into silence, navigating her way through the dimly-lit streets until she reached an intersection, "I'm sorry, Captain, I'm terrible with directions. Would you like me to go left or right here?" She glanced sideways, her features softening when she realised that Raydor was fast asleep. Somewhat disconcerted by the inexplicable rush of compassion that assailed her, Brenda reached out, gently jostling her shoulder. "Captain? Right or left?"

Raydor jerked into wakefulness, looking faintly embarrassed. "Left," she confirmed, gesturing to the row of semi-detached houses ahead of her. "And if you can just pull over by that streetlight on the right…"

Brenda obliged, and Raydor didn't bother to hide her confusion when she turned off the engine.

"Let me help you to the door, Captain," Brenda offered courteously, "There are a lot of stairs..."

"Chief, really, that's not necessary - " Raydor protested, rolling her eyes when Brenda got out of the car regardless. She unbuckled her seatbelt and flinched when a rush of cold air assaulted her, staring at Chief Johnson's proffered hand for several moments before hesitantly grasping it and allowing the blonde woman to haul her to her feet.

She limped up the stairwell in silence, conscious of her superior's hand warming the small of her back, and Brenda stood aside while she clumsily unlocked the door, feeling self-conscious about the faint tremors running through her fingertips. She edged the door open gingerly, and bit back a curse when a ball of fluff came flying towards her, making a mad dash for freedom.

"It's OK, I've got him," Brenda reassured her, tossing her car keys into Raydor's hallway and scooping up the grey and white tabby cat before he could make a hasty getaway. "Well, isn't he just the sweetest thing?" she cooed, and Raydor couldn't help but smile as Brenda's lilting Southern accent became even more prominent.

"It's a she," she corrected automatically, fumbling along the wall in an effort to find the light switch before turning around to bid her colleague goodnight. She froze, her brow furrowing in confusion, when she realised that the blonde's eyes were suddenly teeming with unshed tears.

"Chief Johnson?" she ventured, her eyebrows rising in bewilderment, "What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing, I'm sorry," Brenda said tremulously, cradling the cat close to her chest. "I just… Kitty… I thought she was a he, but she was a she…" Realising that she was babbling, she mentally shook herself, shrugging her shoulders so she could wipe her eyes against the collar of her jacket. "My cat, she… passed away recently."

"Oh." Raydor's expression was inscrutable, and Brenda inwardly cursed herself for losing her composure in the presence of this unfathomable, infuriating woman. She hastily handed the cat back to her, ruffling its fur affectionately.

"Well, you take care, Captain, and I'll be sure to keep you informed of any future developments."

"Thank you, Chief," Raydor murmured softly, managing to imbue her tone with some genuine warmth. She watched the blonde make her way down the steps, and then, unable to will back the surge of emotion any longer, quietly closed the door. She sank to her knees in the middle of the hallway, clutching her stomach with one hand and covering her mouth with the other, and finally allowed the tears to fall.

Brenda reached into her pocket to retrieve her keys and, feeling like the universe was conspiring against her, realised that they weren't there. "Darn it," she muttered, remembering that she'd hastily tossed them aside in an effort to capture Raydor's cat before it escaped. The woman was going to think she was completely incompetent. Sighing to herself, she re-negotiated the stairwell and prepared to sheepishly knock on her subordinate's door, but her heart seized in her chest when she heard the muffled, broken sobs emanating from within Raydor's apartment. She stood completely still for a moment, her own eyes welling with tears when she realised the monumental effort it must have taken for the brunette to suppress that kind of emotion, and hating herself for questioning Raydor's humanity. She realised, now, that the Captain's imperviousness to the horrific experience she had just endured was a front; to help her maintain her privacy, and to safeguard her dignity. And now she was going to have to shatter the illusion.

"Yoo-hoo, Captain," she called, knocking lightly on the door. "I'm so very sorry, but I think I left my keys in your hallway… Captain Raydor?"

"Give me a minute," Raydor yelled raggedly, swiping furiously at her eyes.

It took a lot longer than that for the brunette to open the door, and when she did, it was only partially. She presented the keys to her superior officer through the tiny gap, using the bulk of the door to shield her face from view.

Instead of taking the keys, Brenda impulsively enveloped Raydor's hand with her own, giving it a tender squeeze. "Captain…"

Raydor tried to pry her hand away, but Brenda held fast, running her thumb over her colleague's clenched knuckles.

"Captain…"

The answering sob was all the invitation Brenda needed, and she gently eased the door open, finding Raydor with her face turned towards the wall and her shoulders shaking violently. She tentatively reached out, rubbing the expanse of her subordinate's back in a soothing circular motion, and remained undeterred when Raydor visibly tensed at her touch.

"There, there. It's OK. Shhh now," she murmured, "We can't be strong all of the time. No-one should have to go through something like this alone."

"I don't need your pity, Chief Johnson," Raydor snapped, abruptly pulling away. "Now, you got what you came for, so kindly leave."

"This isn't pity, Captain," Brenda reassured her. "Perhaps you and I… perhaps we aren't as dissimilar as appearances might suggest. I know we got off on the wrong foot, but maybe we could try again?"

Raydor whirled around; regarding her superior searchingly, trying to gauge the sincerity behind her words. Brenda offered her a small smile, which Raydor hesitantly returned.

"I appreciate the overture," she acknowledged graciously, "But don't think this is going to buy you any bonus points next time one of your officers decides to take the law into their own hands." Raydor spoke the words in her usual condescending drawl, but her impish expression made it clear that she was joking.

"I'll keep that in mind," Brenda assured her wryly, slightly unsettled by the admiration she was starting to develop for a woman who was clearly hell-bent on driving her to distraction, "Now, let's get some ice on that eye."

Raydor gestured towards the kitchen, sinking exhaustedly onto a stool by the breakfast bar, and Brenda searched through the sparse contents of the Captain's freezer, emerging with a packet of frozen peas. She cupped the brunette's chin, easing her head upwards, and delicately applied the makeshift icepack to her bruised cheekbone. If she noticed the way the Captain flushed a little at her proximity, or the way her own heart began thrumming when Raydor moved to intercept the icepack and their fingers met in a fleeting caress, she chose not to comment... for now.