A lull had settled over the murder room. DDA Hobbs was in an interrogation room, finalizing a deal with the murderer in their latest case. Paperwork had been easier than many of their cases of late, and they were all watching the clock to see when they could leave for the day.
Flynn was the first to rise. He stood, adjusted his tie, then went to knock on the Captain's door.
"Come in" she called, smiling without looking up. "Something I can do for you, Andy?"
"How'd you know it was me?"
"Who else would come and talk to me this close to the end of the day, probably making an argument for an early departure?" Sharon glanced up with him, her eyes dancing in mirth.
"Ya got me," Andy grinned his easy grin, and moved over to sit in the chair facing Sharon's desk. "You could use an early exit too. When was the last time you got out of here and the sun was still up?"
"Andy, I don't work that late."
"Yeah, right," he snorted.
Sharon couldn't help laugh at his reaction, he knew her too well.
Out in the murder room, attentions shifted from the work on their desk to the conversation in the Captain's office. Laughter was hard to miss, as was the way the Captain and Lieutenant leaned into each other.
...
Amy Sykes loved being a part of Major Crimes. She also loved watching her commanding officer handle cases and personalities with ease. Sharon Raydor had a way of being both harsh and malleable, both soft and tough as nails. She understood how to encourage people into the direction she wanted without making them feel they were being manipulated.
It was with an eye of admiration that Amy looked to the office. She had seen the Captain laugh before. She'd seen all of Raydor's emotions on display, truth be told, but she couldn't remember seeing her Captain look so carefree. There was something in the way she flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned in a little closer. Something in the way her hands moved as she punctuated her sentences.
Amy grasped for the word, and then it came to her - intimacy. There was an intimacy in the conversation she was observing. An unspoken understanding that provided the base for what was being said aloud. She felt a momentary sense of envy that Lt. Flynn could bring that out of the Captain, while her conversations were still work related. She hoped someday that her talks with the Captain would be that easy.
...
Julio Sanchez saw Andy's smirk as he got up from his desk and adjusted his tie. Andy always was a smooth operator, and while Julio knew he respected the Captain, he also knew Andy wasn't above trying any angle to get what he wanted. Given the hour of the day and the monotony of the work on their desks, it didn't take much imagination to see what was going on.
From his angle he couldn't see anything. The door blocked his view completely so he had to rely on the reactions of the people in the room and his own imagination to figure out what the Lieutenant and Captain were discussing. Whatever it was, his co-workers were keenly interested. Julio imagined that the Captain was sitting at her desk, arms crossed to create an additional barrier to the Lieutenant's suggestions. She would indulge him, Julio knew, because she indulged Andy more than the rest of them put together. She would smile politely while Andy was gesticulating about something, trying every way he could think of to bring an end to his work day.
Julio made a point of keeping his opinions to himself and his interest in his co-workers to a minimum. He was there for the job. Whenever they needed an extra piece of muscle, he was the man. He wasn't the smartest of the group. He wasn't the fastest, or the most experienced. But he held the bottom line in any situation and he knew they needed him. It was that sense of responsibility that made him think Andy a damned fool. Why would he waste the last half hour of the day trying to convince the Captain to let them go, when he could have his paperwork finished and leave on his own terms.
The longer the door stayed closed, the more Julio prayed that the Captain would flatten the Lieutenant, and the rest of them would get a good laugh in the end. Do the job. Don't look for favours.
...
Assistant Chief Taylor was experiencing the four PM crash, and wanted desperately to leave for home. The only thing standing in his way was Captain Raydor's final report on her current case. He needed to see if anything was necessary for the evening news, and hoped there wasn't. The last thing he wanted was to explain away a second murder that month. So far the press hadn't smelled blood, and he was hoping that would continue.
He knew something was off when he entered the murder room and instead of looking at their desks or the evidence board, the squad was captivated by the goings on in the Captain's office. Trying to keep his presence hidden, he moved against the wall, away from the rest of the occupants. Hiding behind a coat tree he watched like the others.
Interesting, was his first thought. Whatever Raydor and Flynn were discussing, it was quite involved and distracting. She hadn't looked up once to see what the rest of her squad was doing, at least not while he watched. There was something in her look that unnerved him slightly. He'd seen that look before but was having trouble placing it. Usually Raydor's face was a mask and he knew he wasn't one of the lucky ones to see when she took the mask off. That privilege she reserved for those immediately under her, and no one else. Perhaps that was the look he was trying to place, but he could't think when he would have been invited into her private time with her team.
No... no, it was something else. What was going on between the two, he wondered. The irony of their easy conversation wasn't lost on him. Raydor was known throughout the LAPD as someone who didn't take guff from anyone and would bust an officer who wasn't given their all to the job. Flynn, on the other hand, had the reputation of the LAPD troublemaker. Usually when Flynn was involved, something bad had to follow. It was like watching opposites collide. Every instinct in his body said there was something not quite right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
Deciding he would have to mull it over, he walked quietly over to Provenza. "How are we doing?" he asked.
"Join Buzz in Electronics, and then you'll see for yourself," came the answer.
Taylor was in no mood to throw his weight around, so he went to watch the monitors. If Raydor wasn't observing the proceedings, perhaps he could relax as well, and enjoy his evening. He hoped that was the case.
...
Mike Tao saw Andy stand and go into the Captain's office. Once the door closed he couldn't see a thing, so he turned back to his desk and contemplated what to do. He had finished his reports and wanted to play with some of his other projects.
One of those projects was working with the FBI phone surveillance system he had requested. After seeing it in action when they were hunting Rusty's stalker, he had suggested to the Captain that it was technology they could use. He knew she was trying to figure out ways to afford it without blowing the budget, and one of the ways she came up with was to get a beta version for Tao, and use their squad to populate his information. The seven of them had signed wavers allowing Tao to follow their phone's movements. He was looking for patterns and spikes, anything that could justify purchasing the program outright.
Once Andy had entered the Captain's office, Tao saw that Andy's phone and the Captain's phone were causing an inaudible higher frequency. It wasn't enough to be concerned, but it did make him wonder how close the squad had to be to each other to get that level of feedback.
Mike tapped a few keys and produced a chart showing all of their interactions. Everyone had similar frequency levels. During the day the levels were higher while they were in the office, while in the evenings when they were not working, the levels dropped to almost non-existent. The exception was the Captain's and Andy's. There was something odd going on, he realized.
Tapping a few more keys he cross referenced their frequency levels with work schedules. As with the other members of the squad, daytime frequencies and late night cases were higher. However there was a disparity when Tao looked at their off hours. In some cases there was no registered frequency, just like the others. But at least twice a week, the frequencies were as high or higher than they had been at work.
Mike sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers against his mouth as he thought. There were a few explanations for the disparity. One, the FBI beta could have flaws that he was not apprised of. He would have to follow up with Agent Howard to see what he could learn. A second option was that there was something wrong with either the Captain's phone, or Andy's or both. Perhaps another type of frequency was interacting with their phones, which in turn made his data inaccurate.
Both could be true, but he knew a third option was much more likely. He wouldn't believe it if he didn't see it with his own computerized data... Oh who was he kidding, he wasn't blind. Of course he would believe it. Staring him right in the face was proof positive that the Captain and her Lieutenant didn't keep things in the office. He'd have to think about this, and make sure his data was scrubbed before he returned anything to the FBI. Still, he smiled, it was nice being the one who knew the secrets.
...
Provenza rubbed his face a few times, and then once more for good measure. Anything that would erase the image from his mind, and more so from his imagination. It was a disaster in the making.
He had tried, oh how he had tried. He had stepped up his presence by the Captain's side to discourage Flynn from hanging around. He made plans with Rusty and kept adjusting them so the Captain couldn't make solid plans of her own. He had told Flynn what an idiot he was on more than a few occasions. Flynn... acting dumb as always.
Oh god... he couldn't believe she was actually playing with her hair. Really? He didn't know she did that. And Flynn's gestures just kept getting wider. Well, at least Taylor had moved on and wasn't witnessing this disgraceful behaviour. It didn't take a genius to see what was going on between the two of them. He needed a drink.
Quickly he surveyed the room to see that only he and Sykes were giving the pair in the office any attention. "You done yet, Sykes?" he growled, making her turn back to her desk.
"Ah, yes sir. Well, almost. Just another page or two."
Provenza nodded, then turned to the others "Sanchez? Tao?"
"I'm done," Tao called, not taking his eyes from his computer.
Sanchez put his hand up, "Another page or two, Sir."
"Well I'm done," Provenza announced. "I can't think about this anymore. Let's go everyone. Fresh eyes will give us the last couple of pages in the morning."
"Shouldn't we ask the Captain?" Sykes said, looking uncertain.
Provenza glowered, "It's 4:30 and we've been here since 7:00 this morning. We've done our time, and this isn't grade school. I said let's go!"
"Ah, yes Sir."
Sykes quickly gathered her belongings and headed towards the door.
"What about Flynn, Sir?" Sanchez asked.
Provenza took one more look at the closed office door and the conversation he could see through the window, and shook his head slightly. "That kiss-ass is on his own."
...
A knock on the door startled both Sharon and Andy.
"Come in..."
Andrea poked her head in, "I wasn't sure anyone was still around."
They were confused and looked into the murder room. "It's empty," Flynn announced needlessly. All the chairs had been pushed into the desks neatly, computers were shut off, and the entire room aside from Andy's desk, looked finished for the day.
"Ah.. yes..." Sharon tried to look in command of the situation, wondering why everyone left without giving her their reports. "I take it you've finished with the suspect and you need our report to complete your files?"
"Yes. I'll file these papers tomorrow, and it will be a done deal before our murderer can even start breaking in his prison orange."
"Okay, just let me finish up here then, so you can have everything."
"Captain, it's after hours and our guy is already on his way to jail. The paperwork can wait 'til tomorrow. You should go home."
"I..." Sharon looked between Andrea, Andy and her desk.
"She's leaving," Andy broke his silence.
Sharon turned her head and they looked at each other.
...
Andrea watched the silent communication between Raydor and Flynn. It was amusing to see the thoughts play across their faces, the power brokering and the final acquiescence to the dominating male. She doubted they realized what they were doing, and knew that both would be embarrassed if they did.
It was a dance she was becoming used to observing. It had started the year before when Raydor needed support and Flynn had stepped up to be that person. He was always by her side, making sure everyone from the squad to whatever suspect they had detained, knew she wasn't an easy target. Then it became comical, with the eye rolls and quick sarcastic smiles. After that she watched it shift to vulnerable as both started shedding their armor and leaned on each other. She had heard the stories of the Captain running to call 911 and grabbing the first aid kit when Flynn fainted, frantic to get him back on his feet. Her tap dance for HR must have been something to behold. In most situations Flynn would have been assigned desk duty, but Raydor made sure he didn't miss a beat on the front line.
Somewhere along the way, she had missed it becoming personal. The shift happened when she wasn't around, and being someone who liked to have the whole story in front of her, Andrea found it frustrating. She always liked Flynn with his too easy charm, quick mind and even quicker temper. And she had come to respect and admire Ryador for her gentle touch, encouragement and ability to cut through the bull. Neither one was comfortable throwing around their weight unless the situation called for it. Both knew how to take a back seat and let others shine.
Perhaps that was what startled her the most, the way they both rose and fell back for each other, like the tide hitting against the shores. On the surface they seemed the most unlikely of friends, but underneath they were both the same kind of people. Watching them play out their personal drama, she wondered how deep the friendship ran.
...
Buzz was a film maker, a story teller. He had a keen eye for detail and tried every day to keep his natural instincts as a narrator from overshadowing the unvarnished truth that was needed in police investigations. He had witnessed the truly grotesque, the unconscionable destruction of human life, the hate and depravity of the human imagination. Looking at the negative was something he was used to, or as used to as any rational being could assume to be. Motive was something he fought hard to ignore, because to understand someone's motive created relatability, and relatability encouraged sympathy. He could not afford to find sympathy with suspects or victims. Being cold and meticulous in his assessments was the only way he could survive in his job. It was more than a professional strategy, it was a personal necessity.
So it was with the jaded eye of one who tried not to feel or emote that he watched the interactions of his Captain and her Lieutenant. It wasn't any one thing but a thousand things all in one moment. It was the way they looked at each other. He had seen that look before. They were Hepburn and Tracy in Look Who's Coming to Dinner. They were Andrews and Plummer in The Sound of Music. They were Bergman and Bogart in Casablanca. They were O'Hara and The Duke in Rio Grande.
In the back of his mind a film score started to play, it was grand with full orchestra, heavy on the violins. He wished he had a camera in his hand. And then the moment faded as quickly as it had emerged. They were turning off lights and walking towards the door. They didn't seem to realize he was there. He didn't feel offended, though, he felt like he alone had the privilege of seeing the end credits.
Tomorrow he would start filming the sequel, but for now he felt it appropriate that it faded to black.