"So what do you want me to do about that?"
Brenda heard the words leaving Sharon's mouth but they were just a mere echo against the roar of emotions that pounded through her. Unjust, unfair, Will had sold her out. And she was doing all she could do to keep herself from shaking, from drowning under the overwhelming emotions that demanded her attention. But when she heard the words what do you want me to do about that, the only thought that she could muster was hold me, shocking herself with the almost second-nature reaction. She took in a shaky breath before asking the Captain to order protection for Goldman. She then thanked the Captain, the words leaving her mouth of their own volition, and she found herself walking to her office and closing the curtains. She would have to lick her wounds by herself.
Sharon just watched as Brenda stalked away. She wanted, no she needed, to reach out and comfort Brenda. Being a bystander to the pain of her loved ones was almost unbearable; there was nothing she could do to quell the helplessness, nothing she could do to chase away the pain. As Sharon ordered the protection detail for Goldman, she felt the resurgence of conflicting emotions that often came with her job – the duty of upholding her oath as an officer but being unable to stomp away the feeling that maybe some people didn't deserve the protection of the law, that maybe some people had done so much to break the social contract that it no longer applied to them.
After putting the final touches on the protection detail, she returned the receiver to its place with a light click. The chief needed comfort, and she needed to give the chief comfort. She walked over to the chief's office, and as she raised her hand to knock, she heard the yell.
"I CAN'T believe you could say that Fritzy. I know the settlement doesn't cost us anything, but what about my reputation? My name? Does my integrity mean nothing to you?"
Swallowing her hesitation, resigning to deal with the consequences later, Sharon knocked swiftly before opening the door. The chief was sitting at her desk, with her head in her hands, her shoulders signaling more than anything else that the woman had finally understood defeat.
"Chief," Sharon whispered tentatively. When she saw no change in Brenda, she closed the door behind her before walking slowly to Brenda's desk, quietly repeating, but with more determination, "Chief."
Brenda finally registered the voice of someone else in the room, and she looked up, not removing her hands from her face.
"Yes, Captain, was there something else you needed?"
Sharon should have answered. She should have come up with a reason for intruding on the chief like this. But the only answer that came to mind was that she needed to comfort Brenda, she needed to absorb some of Brenda's pain and make it even just a tiny fraction more bearable for her. So she walked around her desk and slowly pulled Brenda's chair back, Brenda's eyes widening in surprise.
"Stand up, Chief," Sharon ordered.
"What?"
"Chief, I need you to stand up," Sharon said.
"Wait, why?" Brenda asked.
"Because, Brenda," she said, placing quiet emphasis on her name, "I am going to hug you. You are hurting, and nobody should have to deal with this alone," Sharon said, taking one of Brenda's hands in her own. "Brenda, stand up."
Before Brenda's mind had the opportunity to register what was happening, she felt herself being pulled up by her hands as Sharon drew her into an embrace. And in that embrace, Brenda finally safe enough to be weak, to be vulnerable, to allow herself to feel the crushing weight of disappointment. She knew that in Sharon's embrace, she could fall apart and shatter, and Sharon would hold her together.
And so Brenda cried. The tears fell as Sharon held her, her hand coming up to stroke the back of blonde's head, signaling to her that if she let go, Sharon would catch her.
They stood like this for several minutes, Brenda crying in Sharon's shoulder, feeling pain but also wonder, wonder at how right this felt. When had Sharon become the person who made her feel safe? When had Sharon's embrace become home for her? When had she fallen in love with Sharon? The tears subsided, but neither woman felt the desire to let go. Brenda felt her breathing even out, and she took one final gulp of air before whispering quiet words of gratitude in Sharon's ear. Sharon had been her constant; she had been the only true ally she had through the entire trial. Sharon had fought for her when everyone else had given up, and Brenda felt a new wave of tears stinging her eyes as all of the feelings she had for Sharon, feelings that had been building for months, came crashing down over the wall she had built to protect herself and her marriage. She willed herself to stop the tears as she pulled back, still wrapped in Sharon's arms, but now face to face with her.
"Sharon," she whispered again, afraid that the position she now found herself in, in Sharon's arms, was a dream from which she would awaken if she spoke too loudly.
"Sharon, why are you so good to me?" was all she could muster. She had been nothing but difficult, and yet, Sharon was still here, comforting her when her own husband had refused to understand her pain.
Sharon merely brought a hand up to Brenda's cheek. What could she say. Because I love you? Because despite the fact that you drive me crazy, you are one of the smartest and most admirable people I have ever met? Because you belong to another and the only way I can express my love is by protecting you? No, all of those things would be inappropriate to say. Brenda was not hers to have, not hers to love. But when Brenda felt Sharon's hand cup her cheek, when she saw her own emotions reflected back in Sharon's eyes, she did the only sensible thing she could do. She leaned forward, breathing in the final remnants of Sharon's perfume before pressing her lips against Sharon's. The kiss was over before Sharon had time to process what had just happened. Brenda had kissed her. And now Brenda was leaning her forehead against hers as they shared the same breath.
They were in trouble.