A COLLISION WITH CHANCE

A/N: The Characters from The Closer do not belong to me. I'm merely depressed that series has ended, and I'm playing with them. Mary McDonnell and Kyra Sedgwick bring such life to every character they play, and it is a joy to take them out of the toybox and do with them what I will. And oh, will I do with them what I will. I own nothing. If I did, it would be a hell of a lot more R-rated :D.

Brenda Leigh Johnson squeezed her eyes shut. Bang. Bang. She felt liquid flow over her back and glass rain down, too. She barely moved, because she didn't want to get cut, but the gunshots and slosh of alcohol over her body still burned. She had to do something. She opened her eyes and rolled over to a crouched position.

"LAPD Drop your weapon!" She screamed, even as she felt glass cut into her knee. The liquor store robber looked frightened. She saw the young, African American man turn the pistol away from her, toward the store owner. She could see in his eyes that he was going to shoot the store owner. She squeezed off a shot, but liquor ran in her eyes throwing it off. Then all hell broke loose, and all she could do after getting off her shot was tuck tail, and wallow in the flood of broken whiskey bottles that surrounded her.

The shot liquor store owner shot a shotgun up in the air in the general direction of the robber, and frankly, Brenda Leigh was more afraid of his aim than that of the robber. More glass broke, and more liquor cascaded to the floor, and the Deputy Chief gripped her gun even as she sighed.

This was a bad end to a bad day.

Captain Sharon Raydor arrived at the scene, having been informed that there was an officer involved weapon discharge. She had wanted to argue that it wasn't necessary that she arrive every time an officer discharged their weapon, until she learned who it was. No one was dead, that was true. But the officer that had discharged a weapon was one Brenda Leigh Johnson, Deputy Chief. She shivered as she stepped out of her car, even though the night wasn't that cool for the desert of California.

Sharon could have lived her life without seeing someone that looked as simultaneously pitiful and pissed off as the Chief did right at that moment. She was drenched in fluid, presumably alcohol, had scratches on her knees, and was currently fighting with paramedics that were attempting to get her into an ambulance. The FID Captain could smell her before she even heard her, and the Deputy Chief was arguing loudly.

"I am just fine, gentlemen and if you would kindly take your hands off of me, I need to solve a crime!" The southern accent rang through the crime scene as Chief Johnson batted away their hands and attempts to stop her from standing. She looked ready to use her gun again. Lt. Flynn and Det. Gabriel looked actually afraid to intervene, and the brunette rolled her eyes. They always leave me to do the dirty work.

"Chief Johnson, are you refusing medical attention? Because if you are, that will cause more light to be shed on the inquiry into your weapon discharge." She said it in even tones, but knew that it would get the blond hurricane to focus on her, and possibly listen to her.

"My weapon discharge? My weapon discharge!?" The blond repeated twice, with her voice growing in volume with each word. "I was nearly killed in a liquor store when all I was doing was picking up a bottle of wine on my way home, and some idiot came in and tried to rob the place!" Brenda Leigh fumed with indignation, clearly picking up a head of steam. "They want to drag me away in a damned ambulance when I am the best witness they have, and all I have is a bloody knee. I've gotten worse trippin' into a briar patch!" The blonde waved an indignant finger then crossed her arms beneath her chest with a loud harrumph.

Sharon sized the woman up, and beneath the anger, she could see that she was trembling - with anger or fear, she wasn't certain. What she was certain was that the woman needed to get out of those clothes and out of the situation before the media came to call and Brenda (and the LAPD) got horrifically embarrassed more that she was already. She made a decision that she would likely decide was stupid later, but also decided that she could live with it. She left the huffing blonde to find Sergeant Elliot. They could handle it. Precious few had any hope of handling a pissed off, stinking Brenda Leigh Johnson. She knew that she couldn't, but she had the best shot since Fritz was in Washington.

She was, after all, every bit as stubborn as the blonde herself could ever be and in this case, while protecting both the Chief and the LAPD in a professional capacity, twice as determined. Captain Raydor was many things, but she had a protective streak a mile wide, and right now, the blonde needed someone to look out for her. Hauling the blonde by an arm, her nose wrinkling, she didn't stop until she reached the trunk of her car and yanked out a thin, shiny survival blanket. It would get the shaking blonde warm and hopefully keep the stink out of her car.

After shoving the Chief in the car, and making sure she had fastened her seat belt (while adjusting the blanket around her so her clothes wouldn't touch the seat), Sharon got in on the other side. She was thankful that the Chief had already been divested of her weapon at the scene; the bright, incandescent anger that flared in the blond woman's face at being taken away was impressive. Still, Sharon hadn't gotten where she was in life by being intimidated by anger. The woman smelled like a still and Chief Pope would never forgive Sharon if she let her go on film looking that way. She wouldn't forgive herself.

They drove to her house without words, until they were about halfway there. "Where are you takin' me?" Brenda snapped. Sharon sighed.

"I'm taking you to my house to get cleaned up, and to look at that cut on your knee. You can't get filmed for the news, which you would have most certainly done, looking like that." She said this with a note of finality, hoping the volatile blonde would see reason.

"I don't have anything to put on at your house." Brenda said, angrily. A pout formed on her lips. Once again, Sharon gave a long-suffering sigh.

"You also won't have reporters in the front yard at my house, because anything you do, Deputy Chief, is going to attract attention. This incident will have them standing on your lawn." Her tone was harsh, conveying the severity of the situation.

"I have clothes you can put on, and you can rest, which is what you should be doing." Sharon tried to deliver it in a calm, even tone but she could tell it got louder and more forceful as she spoke. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and her face was set in stone. "You could have been killed, and the last thing that you need are reporters rooting around in your life." Her voice softened.

Brenda Leigh sighed herself. It was a horrible day, but it looked like this was the best offer she was going to get of making it better. Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson did something she very rarely did. She sighed, felt a sense of gratitude that someone was doing something for her own good, even when she hated it, and then expressed it. She caught green eyes and gave what could have passed as a smile even though she felt sorrier than a scalded cat, and said quietly, "thank you, Captain."

-()-

Brenda Leigh shrugged out of her filthy, alcohol soaked clothes, and set about scrubbing every part of her body in Captain Raydor's generous shower. She washed her hair twice with the shampoo that smelled of citrus and something spicy, then ran thick conditioner through her locks. As she finally felt the adrenaline wear off, she looked at her knee. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but the cut looked nasty though not deep. She felt the high of the heat of the moment wear off, and sank down in the shower, hot water cascading over her and she cried.

Too many things were lost today, and to top it all off, she had nearly lost her life. Her tears mingled with hot water until it ran cold, her head on her knee that wasn't damaged, the other having the blood rinsed away under the spray.

A knock on the bathroom door brought her to her senses after a while. "Chief?" Sharon inquired politely, and when she didn't answer, "Brenda?" more forcefully. "I have some things for you to get into." And then she promptly opened the door and came right in. Brenda almost wanted to curse at her for her presumptuousness at intruding in the bathroom when she was in the shower when she realized it was Sharon's house.

She wiped her tears, and barely recognized her own voice when she said "I'm okay, just about to get out." Her voice sounded shaky and lost; she wouldn't have known it as her own had it not come out of her own mouth. She struggled to stand, then slipped a little with a thump on the tiles. The glass shower door was instantly opened and the water turned off. Before Brenda could react, a warm towel was flung around her shoulders, and she was pulled from the shower floor and guided to stand in the bathroom. Brenda suddenly felt helpless, vulnerable and hateful for feeling both of those things. She staggered away from the hold trying to secure her and nearly careened into the toilet.

"Steady, Chief. You are a bit light headed." Then the woman proceeded to rub her dry perfunctorily with a towel as though she was a child. That made Brenda pout even more, and the Captain even more gruff with her movements. "You are so stubborn, Chief. You nearly died today, and you can't even bear to have someone help you." It was said in a low growl, and the Captain yanked a shirt over Brenda's head. She offered a pair of panties, but suddenly the Chief got her head on straight and snatched them out of her hands. Something about having those beautiful hands touch her in such intimate places with no regard made her sad, and angry at herself for being sad.

"I think I know how to put these on Captain, seeing as I've been doing it for 47 years!" She shrieked at the brunette, who just smirked as though waiting for her to demonstrate her ability to do so. Brenda Leigh growled low in her throat and pulled them on, then held out her hand for the shorts the other woman offered her. She pulled those on, too, with a nasty smirk on her face, well aware she was being a bitch but despising the need to be taken care of by that woman in such an unfeeling way. Captain Raydor just reviewed that she was clothed, handed her another towel presumably for her hair, and exited the bathroom while closing the door behind her.

It crossed Brenda's mind briefly that she was mostly angry because the Captain hadn't reacted to seeing her body naked, and somehow, that just wasn't right. She'd seen green eyes rake her when she wasn't looking; maybe Fritz was right. She had sunk to the point where she was just too pathetic to love. Certainly she was too difficult to desire. Brenda Leigh Johnson felt the urge to sob again, as icy fingers of despair curled through her heart. She would have started crying again, but suddenly a delicious smell of hot stew crept through the door of the bathroom, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

At least Sharon Raydor cared enough to feed and clothe her before she got tired of her, too.

-()-

Sharon lay awake in her bed, ears attuned to the guest in her other bedroom. She tried, God how she tried, to not let the other woman's charms affect her. And it wasn't that she was particularly long on them, she was just so beautiful. She shook her head against the pillow. She couldn't dwell on those thoughts. Brenda was married, and she certainly wouldn't sleep with a co-worker. Her eyes shot open.

When in the hell had she started entertaining sleeping with the woman? Just because she had seen her naked earlier? Just because she had seen her vulnerable? Just because she was down the hall? She caressed her forehead with her palm. Sharon Raydor, you are losing your mind if you think for one second that THAT WOMAN could ever be attracted to you. She schooled her features to relaxed repose and sought out a meditation. It lasted about a minute before she heard a shrill cry from the guest bedroom, and Sharon bolted out of bed as though she had been struck by a reverse tazer that made her act instead of not act. Grabbing her service weapon, she hurled open the door to find Brenda Leigh's brown eyes meeting her own in fear.

Blushing, the brunette oriented her weapon to the floor, finger never touching the trigger and said softly, "I'm sorry, I heard you cry out, and was worried that..." She trailed off only to be drowned out by Brenda leaping into the conversation.

"I'm so sorry Captain, I didn't mean to awake you I was having a bad dream and I really should go home because I don't want to disturb you." The blonde finished it all in a rush, but there were tracks of tears on her face, and Sharon really wasn't going to just turn around and leave her like that. She put her service weapon on the bedside table, and sat on the side of the bed.

"Brenda, are you okay?" She asked it quietly, but so sincerely that in the quiet of the night, Chief Johnson didn't answer. Brenda Leigh did, with a shaky voice.

"No, Sharon, I don't think I am." The vulnerability of her tone clutched at the Captain's heart and she did something she never dreamed she would do. She lifted the covers and slid into bed with the gorgeous Southern woman. If she ever expected resistance when she pulled her into her arms, she got none, because Brenda Leigh Johnson just sank into her body as though she had been doing it all of her life and drifted into sleep. Captain Sharon Raydor breathed in her scent and followed her a moment later, thankful that Brenda was here after the shooting and even more glad that she was nestled with her, alive.