Sharon slipped into bed. This, in and of itself was a rare event, usually preferring to fall asleep on the couch. By the time she made it home it had been almost one and between the drink and the conversation she was feeling optimistic enough to hope she could fall asleep in her own, empty bed.
The problem was once the lights were off and the blankets pulled up, she couldn't fall asleep. It wasn't her usual bout of insomnia but something entirely forgotten and familiar. It would only lead to trouble, but it didn't matter. For one night, Sharon Raydor decided with a small smile, she wouldn't worry about it. She would enjoy every excruciating moment until she fell asleep - when she woke up, it would be a new day.
She turned on her side and gazed out the window. The full moon shone through the branches of the lemon trees outside and the wind rustled their leaves. She remembered when they had planted the trees, how small they were. Her kids refused to believe it'd grow but they had, both the trees and her children.
Brenda had complicated things.
Tonight Brenda had been sweet and she had been charming, and she had been kind. If she hadn't been southern, Sharon would've been convinced the blond had been flirting with her. Sharon had been perfectly happy ignoring her growing attraction to co-worker. Or, if she wanted to be accurate, her boss. Brenda was higher ranked, and given her growing involvement with Major Crimes, her immediate superior. These were the things she wouldn't worry about until tomorrow.
A sigh escaped Sharon's lips and rang out in the empty room. She could imagine it sliding out of the room, floating down the stairs and out the windows to be carried off by the same wind that ruffled the leaves, or her hair as she stood out beside Brenda by their cars.
Brenda Leigh Johnson always filled her with a feeling of uncertainty - as if the axis on which her life could stop at any moment - they had both, surprisingly, enjoyed spending time together. If asked, Sharon wasn't sure she could even remember what they spoke about - but she could remember the sound of their laughter, or the smile that reached all the way to the Chief's brown eyes.
She could remember the way Brenda had placed a hand on the small of her back as she followed her through the tight path between the tables, and how she kept it there until they made it to the front door. She could tell you about the breeze that blew past them, mussing hair and Brenda's skirt.
She could tell you about the hesitation she felt as they stood between their cars about to say goodnight. She could tell you about the distinct suspicion she had that neither of them really wanted the night to end, so they stood there, in the breeze talking until there was nothing left to talk about.
She could tell you about how she had turned around to unlock her door and how she had felt Brenda slide her shaking hand into hers - suddenly time seemed to stop for Sharon, all noise and movement and thought froze as she felt the contact of skin on skin and the spark of electricity pass between them. Before she could turn around, she felt Brenda drop her hand with a gasp. As quick as she could, the other woman muttered a hasty goodbye and got into her car, driving off before she even buckled her seatbelt, leaving Sharon to wonder just what happened.
What just happened? Brenda asked herself for the umpteenth time this evening. She was still in her car. She pulled into her parking lot ... She looked at the clock on the dash ... Two hours ago and hadn't left. She had just sat there, her hands folded calmly in her lap, and tried to examine the chain of events that brought her life to that very point. What had caused her to move to L.A.? To marry Fritz? To watch as Fritz walked away? To ask Sharon Raydor out to dinner? What caused her to slip her hand in the other woman's? It wasn't just that she had reached out - that could be reasoned away. What concerned Brenda was the lingering thoughts that couldn't be reasoned away.
She could still smell the gin on Sharon Raydor, which was odd as she'd only had the one drink. Brenda had decided right there and then that she she liked it. The crisp, clean smell suited her. It had a bite and a softness that met in very curious ways. It reminded her of the juniper bushes their neighbors had in Georgia. Summer nights smelled of juniper, of Sharon Raydor.
Brenda leaned her head back on the head rest of her seat and tried to have a rational conversation with herself. She was a grown woman, who's husband had (understandably) just left her and she reached out to a coworker. It didn't sound so bad when she put it that way, she thought. Her parents were always telling her she needed more friends, weren't they? The logical side of Brenda had trouble believing it - Sharon Raydor was many things, but a friend wasn't one of them. She was rude, assertive, underhanded and manipulative, not to mention completely devoid of charm or manners.
She was also damn good at her job.
And attractive.
And funny.
Brenda closed her eyes tightly and willed herself to stop thinking of the positive attributes of Captain Raydor. Like the fact that she was manipulative for good reason, and believed in her, and had been the harbinger of cake, sweet, sweet chocolate cake. There was more to life than chocolate cake, Brenda thought to herself, and sometimes a thought was just a thought - like her thought about kissing Sharon Raydor tonight. It was just a thought. Something that popped into her head as she stood there between the cars with the other woman. It was a simple craving - no different than when she would sit at her desk, look up and realize she really wanted gummy bears.
Except this time it wasn't at her desk.
And it wasn't gummy bears. She didn't understand where it came from - she had never found other women attractive in that sense. She could appreciate when other women were well dressed, or well put together as her mother would say - but she'd never wanted to kiss them, and she never reached out to hold their hand like that. Tonight however, she did want to kiss Sharon Raydor, dear lord how she wanted to reach out and kiss her. She supposed she should be thankful that she had just reached out and grabbed the other woman's hand instead of kissing her, she had found herself doing quite a lot of unexpected things around her. She could only imagine the look of sheer confusion that would be on that woman's face if she had kissed her. Because Sharon Raydor may be...whatever... but she certainly wasn't interested in her.
In the least.
Brenda was happy about it because she fairly certain she wasn't interested in her either.
Tonight was just a fluke. She was feeling lonely, and the other woman was kind enough to accept the invitation to dinner (while Sharon pretended to be surprised when hearing about Fritz, she knew it was old news in the rumor mill). Seeing Sharon with the other woman must have put ... thoughts ... into her mind. Yes! Brenda thought, latching onto that train of thought. It was Sharon Raydor and her ex's fault for being so... the thought escaped her and left her alone in her car.
Alone.
Thinking about another woman.
She was pathetic. She briefly wondered if she had always been this pathetic, or if it was middle age that brought out the pathetic in her. There was hundreds of other, more positive ways she could be spending her Friday night instead of sitting in her car. She could be sitting in a bar. Or her apartment. She could be driving by Fritz's apartment to see if he was home. She could invite herself over the the poker game the guys had started, she could go stock up on candy and cheap wine and fall asleep to Home & Garden television. The more her life started falling apart, the more she found herself watching that channel, with all those happy little people with their happy little houses and happy little gardens. Brenda reached out to grab her keys - and found herself turning the car on instead.
Nononononononononono! She thought to herself as she reversed out of her spot and got drove down the street. It seems her car knew where she was going - although so did she. She soon found herself driving down a quiet side street. It was nice and dark, filled with expensive houses and beautiful lawns - people lived here. People here had lives - they had husbands and wives and children and mistresses and pool boys and gardeners - and they were all asleep.
Like she should be.
Like Sharon would be.
Brenda pulled over by the curb and turned off her car. She was here, now what? She prayed the other woman was asleep and wouldn't peek out of her window to find a neurotic blond sitting in her car, hoping that this was all a bad dream. She pinched herself firmly on the back of her hand and waited. Nothing happened. She grabbed her keys and got out, slamming the door loudly, as if it was her car's fault for bringing her here. Brenda knew, after all these years of living with herself, what would happen next. She had done the same thing every time she had to make a big decision - she would know what she should do, but would spend hours going to and fro about it until finally she got too sick of hearing herself think and would just do what she knew she would do anyways. She had done it when she had worn lipstick for the first time, had sex for the first time, applied to Georgetown, slept with Will... the list went on and on and brought here here. Knocking on Sharon Raydor's doorstep at ... she glanced down at her watch ... two thirty.
This was insanity, Brenda thought, pacing up and down the porch. What was she going to do? What was she going to say? How do you justify showing up uninvited on the doorsteps of a woman who could barely tolerate you in the middle of the night? She should just leave n- the door swung open and Brenda forgot what she was thinking of. Standing in the dark hallway was a sleepy but unsurprised Sharon Raydor.
"Chief." She greeted, wrapping her thin robe tighter around herself.
"Sharon. Hi." Brenda could hear how loud and awkward she was sounded. "I hope I didn't wake you?" She asked, her eyes darting around to anywhere but the woman who stood in front of her. She remembered wondering once what the other woman would look like undone, without her suits or her make up - part of her wanted to hate the other woman for looking so well-dressed in her simple cream nightgown and robe.
"Not at all, I was just thinking..."
"About?" Brenda asked, not really listening for the answer. She could feel the nervous energy coursing through her and all she could hear was the blood rushing through her body. This was madness - there was no way she could recover from this. "Sharon - I - oh I don't know!" Brenda just gave up, flung her hands in the air and stepped forward towards the other woman and pressed their lips together. She doesn't know why she did it, in fact, she doesn't know why she's done a lot of what she's done when it comes to Sharon Raydor lately. All she knows is that right now she is kissing another woman. As far as first kisses go, it's good but not great. In the back of her head, the small part not busy panicking, she remembers her first ever kiss, it was with Billy Parsons. This one is better.
And then, as suddenly as it began, she steps back onto the porch. She can breathe now. She can think now. Her mind, free from the distraction of Sharon Raydor, is returned to its normal state of controlled chaos. "Thank you, Captain. Good night." Brenda smiles, taking in a lungful of cool night air and then turns around and makes her way back to her car. As she pulls away from the curb, she sees the other woman still standing in her doorway.
The last thought Sharon remembers before she fell asleep was that if she had a last breath to take, she would gladly take if from Brenda Leigh Johnson's kiss.