AN: This fits between Chapters 3 and 4 of 5 Ways - before the dust up with Pope.
Sharon Raydor was hiding. She wasn't in the morgue or in any of the break rooms or in Tompkins's office. And she had to be in the building, because her purse, phone and keys were sitting on her desk like she had thrown them down and rushed out somewhere. Brenda pursed her lips. Sharon never went anywhere without that phone - she'd even tuck it in her bra if she didn't have a pocket or waistband - a fact that never failed to make Brenda giggle.
She wasn't giggling today, though, because this morning her lover had caught a bitch of a case: a child, a little girl, caught in the crossfire and killed by an LAPD bullet. The officer who had fired the bullet was currently in surgery having buckshot removed from her back and buttocks - injuries sustained after she had thrown herself on the child she had accidentally shot while trying to defend herself from the shotgun wielding stepfather.
Thank god some prescient desk sergeant or dispatch officer had sent two black and whites to follow up on what should have been a routine noise complaint, because the flanking officers had managed to taser the man from behind before he could kill Officer Torres. Thank god she didn't have any dead cops on her murder board today. Thank god she was free to take care of sweet, sensitive Sharon, who was probably somewhere crying because she really couldn't handle the young ones. Trying to school her face into a semblance of pleasant helpfulness, she scooped up Sharon's purse and phone, and headed back out into the bullpen, where about a couple of FID officers were working diligently. Sharon's second in command, Lieutenant Elliot, moved to block her path to the door.
"Chief Johnson, I can't let you walk out of here with Captain Raydor's purse." He put his hands on his hips, as if his larger mass would intimidate her.
"Lieutenant," she purred dangerously, "the nice thing about being Chief is that I don't have to explain myself to anyone with fewer than two stars on their collar, but the Captain asked me to bring her things to her because she got caught up elsewhere. Now, if you'll excuse me…" The man scowled at her, suspicion written in every muscle of his body, but he moved out of her way.
She was almost to the elevator banks, contemplating where to look next, when someone called out: "Chief!" It was one of Sharon's Sergeants. Markham. She was a petite ebony skinned woman, and Brenda's only impression of her was that she was as professional and fastidious as all the officers that worked in FID.
"Detective Markham? Is there something you needed?" Brenda didn't think she'd ever exchanged two words with the woman before now. Markham, after performing a cursory check of the hallway for anyone who might be around, listening, stepped closer to Brenda to ensure that their conversation would be private.
"I apologize for Elliot - he's a little dense. But you might want to check in the west stairwell, for the Captain, I mean." Brenda lifted an eyebrow at the shorter woman, but Markham only smiled. "She just finished up with Morales on the autopsy of that little girl. We don't usually get truly blameless victims in FID, Chief. And the Captain…Well, you know." Brenda didn't know, not first hand, what such a victim could do to her Captain, but she could imagine. She looked at the little detective appraisingly and cocked her head. Markham didn't flinch under the scrutiny or look away.
"Thanks for the tip, Detective," Brenda offered congenially, looping Sharon's bag over her shoulder and rummaging in her own purse for her card case. She handed one to Markham. "I think that maybe you could put this to good use, if you catch my meaning."
Markham flashed her a wry grin and laid a finger along the side of her nose. "Sure, Chief." She pocketed the card. "If the Captain asks, everything is well in hand. There isn't much more to be done until Torres is out of recovery and can give a full statement." Brenda gave a nod, and turned towards the west stairwell door at the end of the hallway. When her back was turned, she smiled. Who knew?
Sharon was tucked away on the landing between the 7th and 8th floors, perched awkwardly on a narrow windowsill. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, and it appeared to Brenda as though all the confidence, all the swagger, that carried Sharon through her working day had melted away, leaving behind a small, fragile woman who might break apart at any moment. Brenda loved her.
Sharon's head shot up at the sound of Brenda's heels on the cement stairs. She managed a wavering smile that amounted to a brief lift of the corners of her mouth. Dropping the purses to the floor, Brenda seated herself on a step. She patted the empty space next to her. Sharon unfolded from her perch and slumped down next to Brenda, graceless and full of edges, allowing Brenda to claim one of her hands, kissing the knuckles before cradling it in her lap. With a strangled noise that might have been a sob, Sharon let her head fall on to Brenda's shoulder.
They were silent until a phone pinged. Sharon sighed and lifted her head. "I guess it's time to get back to the real world." Her voice was rough and slightly unsteady.
"You don't have to. Sergeant Markham told me to tell you that until Officer Torres is available to give a full statement, there isn't much else to do. Everyone in your office looked to be dottin' I's and crossin' t's on the interviews you all conducted earlier." Sharon shot Brenda a look that managed to be fond and reproachful at the same time.
"I should be angry that you brazened your way into my office and past my people. And I should be even angrier that Sergeant Markham was not only keeping track of me, but told you where I was, but I'm too relieved you're here to care very much."
"I'm glad I could at least be here for you." Brenda tucked a lock of Sharon's silky hair behind her ear. "I'll come whenever you need me, Shari." Sharon nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. Brenda wiped away the first one to fall with a thumb across Sharon's cheek.
"I know it's hard to ask for support, but Sharon," Brenda said, her voice cracking just a little, "I love you, I want to be here for you if you need me." Sharon chuckled a watery chuckle.
"That was a low blow, Brenda Leigh. Pulling out the 'I love you' card for the first time in a situation like this." Then she slung an arm around an anxious and fidgeting Brenda. "Oh, honey, it's ok." She gripped Brenda tighter. "I love you, too." Brenda turned to face the woman that had come to mean more to her than she ever thought possible. Their mouths met gently, with affection and the frisson of desire that undercut their every touch.