A/N- Sooorrryyyyy, I'm just struggling with Stroh, thank GOD it's over. FYI, I guess THE videos don't exist here. I didn't even think about it until I was almost done with this chapter. . . sooo, fuck it. "Fuck it" is the going theme for this chapter, haha. I left Gus out of the final showdown, because. . . Why the fuck was he there anyway? Sorry again for the wait, and thanks for being so patient.

Qua resurget ex favilla / Judicandus homo reus

(When from the ashes shall arise / The guilty man to be judged)

-Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Sharon had finally managed to leave her detail when they all passed through the security in the lobby. It had taken a great deal of effort, but she convinced them to cut her loose. She texted Andy in the elevator, despite knowing that it was unlikely he'd get the message before she arrived.

The text only took a second, and she tapped the photo app on her phone, swiping through the images. There were dozens from the last two weeks. Andy had taken a few, but Emily had taken most of them and then sent the pictures to herself and her siblings. And her grandparents, Andy, her aunt, and both uncles. Sharon hadn't been particularly thrilled, but she understood on some level; the photos were Emily's last hold on her mother, in the case things had gone poorly. The majority of the photos weren't great by any means. They were tired, gritty images of her with her children and her husband, strain visible on everyone's faces. There were a few great shots, though, Sharon had to admit, and they were the only ones with all of her family in them, as the wedding photos hadn't come in yet.

She found the picture she was looking for. It was an earlier one, from the first day in the step down unit. Someone from the medical staff must have taken it: Sharon was in the middle, surrounded by her family, everyone wreathed by balloons and flowers. The flowers almost overpowered everything else in the image, but Sharon liked it for its vibrancy. She tapped the screen a few more times and set the photo as her backdrop, just as the elevator reached the ninth floor.

She stepped out into the marigold hallway. The afternoon sun was lighting it up, casting orange-y warmth around her. The tiled floor didn't echo the flats she was wearing the same way it did her usual heels, and a wave of nostalgia swept over her. She pulled her sweater tighter and headed for the warren of offices that were her home.

Her key card was still active, so she let herself into the murder room, just as a resounding bang rang out over the speakers. There was a loud, high scream, and Provenza's gravelly voice on top of it all.

"Now you've done it, Mike."

"Yep." Tao's voice came over both the speakers and the radio sitting at the front of the room. "Hey," he was now calling for someone near him, not anyone in the murder room. "Can we get paramedics in here? Got a suspect down. And someone call FID, we've got an OIS."

There was another high whimper, then Julio's voice. "Shut up unless you're gonna help us."

Andy finally noticed his wife. "Sharon!"

"Hi." She walked around the little half-height temporary wall and circled back to Andy and Provenza. She drew the chair out from Julio's desk and sat quietly. Quite a bit of action was still continuing on screen, and she didn't want to distract from it.

The camera- she assumed it was a live feed from Buzz- was jolting around in a dark room, making it hard for her to tell what was going on.

"Ella! Where's Ella? Ell-llaaaaa!"

On-screen, Julio knelt next to a young blonde man. "We can help her sooner if you tell us where she is."

"How do I know you're going to help her?" The words were high pitched and closely strung together.

"We're in a much better position to help her than you are." Julio's voice sounded lower than usual in comparison to the other man's. Sharon frowned. It was hard to tell with the poor lighting and the odd angle, but she was fairly sure the man was Carl, the neighbor she had interviewed so long ago.

"Yeah, yeah, okay." He rattled off an address, and Julio looked up.

"Got that?"

"Yeah." It was Amy. "Um, Coop, you want to bring someone and come with me and Julio? I don't think Stroh is going to stick around, but. . ."

"Yeah, sure."

The camera swung wildly, and flashed past Buzz' face before it was turned off. The radios continued to crackle with updates. Sharon realized there were multiple radios in the room, running on different channels for each different agency.

"Command, Sykes."

"Go ahead, Sykes."

"Sykes, Sanchez, Cooper, and Whitman are continuing to Ella Goldberg's address. We will be strike team one from here out on this channel."

"Strike one, tac three. Copy that."

"Strike one out."

"Dispatch, this is AMR two-oh-five, on scene with a 26 year old male, GSW to left shoulder, all vitals within normal range. . ."

Provenza reached for the far radio and turned it down, effectively silencing the chatter.

"How are you, Commander?"

"Good, thank you." She didn't feel much like the Commander. Even on her most casual days, she'd been several steps up from her current jeans and sweatshirt. She had also been more than mildly embarrassed when the staff manning the lobby security hadn't recognized her until she pulled out her badge for them. It wasn't a big deal, but she had forgotten what it was like to walk into a room without everyone knowing who she was. "What's going on?"

Provenza quickly gave her what she suspected was a very abbreviated summary, and rounded it out with a subtle jab at FID when she asked who had shot a civilian.

"He's a perp, Commander," Provenza said with affectionate annoyance. "Not even a suspect at this point. He gave Mike some code word to tap into his system with, and there's a whole dossier on Stroh downloading to our computers now." He gestured to the Smartboard, where, sure enough, a download bar was glowing over the desktop.

"Either way. We've got to-"

"Do this by the rules." He and Andy said in sync.

"I'm only reminding you of that fact because I love you."

Provenza cleared his throat loudly as he turned his the radios. "I'll assume that doesn't apply to me."

"Oh, Lieutenant-" One hand fluttered toward him.

"I'm cutting you off there, Commander." Provenza kept his face away from her as he smiled to himself. "Tao, command."

"This is Tao, go ahead."

"Mike, have you come up with anything?"

"Ah-" The man sounded preoccupied. "Ah, our friend Dylan pointed me to a folder. There is a whole load. . ." he trailed off, keyboard clicking.

"Mike."

"Uh, yeah, it looks like there's- holy crap!"

Sharon leaned forward in her seat, gripping the chair tightly. "Lieutenant Tao, what did you find?" She raised her voice to carry across the room.

"Commander! How-"

"Tao." Provenza cut him off sharply.

"Oh, right, I think this is a flight plan. Looks like a charter flight out of Bob Hope-Burbank for- holy crap, this afternoon."

"Tao, are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah." There was more frantic clicking. "As far as I can tell, this is legitimate, the ticket is set up under a pseudonym, but there's a scan of a driver's license for a William A. Burke, and the photo is Stroh."

"Shit!" Provenza pounded his fist on the desk. He stared at Andy, lost in thought. "Tao is stuck with FID, Sykes and Sanchez are getting that poor girl. Buzz is. . . Buzz." He straightened. "Flynn, I need you to meet Buzz and tactical back-up at that airport."

Sharon pushed to her feet. "Lieutenant-"

"Sharon, I'm cleared." Her husband raised his hands. "I'm cleared for field work, Provenza signed off."

She made a soft noise and frowned. She didn't like the feeling of watching someone she loved dive head-first into danger. Rusty's involvement with Wade Weller so many years ago had been the last time she'd felt that way. She had hoped to never feel that way again.

"Mrs. Bechdal, this is Rusty Beck, again, and I'd really appreciate a call back." Her boy walked around the corner himself with his sharp suit and satchel. He froze in the doorway, realizing he'd walked in on something. "Hi, Mom."

"Hey, honey." She turned her attention back to Andy and ran her hands over his lapels, straightening them, then smoothing his tie. "Go," she whispered.

"Sharon."

"I know. This is your job, and you need to see this through." She looked down, eyes watering. "Be safe."

He nodded fiercely. "I will." He tilted her chin up, and stared at her, memorizing her. Her face was too pale and pinched for his liking, and her eyelashes were suddenly sparkling with moisture. "I'll see you tonight." It was more than a promise.

"Tonight," she agreed. She pulled his lapels once more, then pushed him away. "Go."

He snatched his radio from his desk and left the room at a quick pace, glancing back at her once.

"What's going on?"

Provenza didn't even try to distract Rusty. "We've got a solid lead on Phillip Stroh. He's headed out for an airport. Chartered flight."

Rusty's jaw dropped. "Oh my God, seriously?"

"Yeah," Provenza said slowly. He turned back to look at the files open on the computer screen. "I feel like we're missing something. This just seems. . ."

"Too straight forward," Sharon finished. "I know." She chewed her lip as she watched Provenza maneuver through the dossier files. "Wait! Wait, stop!" She stepped forward and pointed at the screen. "What are these?"

"Uh, bank statements from Gwendoline Stroh's account."

"We presume these orders were placed by Phillip, not Mrs. Stroh?"

"Yeah."

Her finger traced over the words. "He's ordered bulk amounts of pre-packaged food, bottled water."

Rusty moved to stand behind her. "That's not the kind of stuff you'd put on an airplane, is it?"

"No." She looked to Provenza. "What. . .?"

He shook his head, mystified. "Another red herring?"

"No," Rusty cut in. "No, this is the kind of stuff you get if you're going off the grid and not moving around. You can't easily move that much shit of and on a plane."

"Language," Sharon said softly, not focused on the word. "You're thinking-"

"Yeah, and Tammy Bechtal isn't picking up her phone. I've called her, like, twenty times, and it feels wrong. I don't know. But she lives at that marina, and she's Stroh's step-dad's wife."

"You think that Stroh is going to get on a boat," Sharon said flatly as she turned the thought over in her mind. "And kill Mrs. Bechtal to get one."

"Yes."

She sighed. "I don't know."

They listened to the radio chatter in silence. There were high, female screams that subsided with confirmation of the rescue of Ella Goldberg. Andy began organizing how to stage an offensive at the airport and quietly lock it down.

"The kid might be right, Sharon," Provenza finally offered. "I think it's a viable option. I wouldn't say it's not a red herring, but I can't fully rule it in, either."

"We're stretched too thin."

"Tayl-" Provenza shook his head. "Mason can't authorize any more officers for us."

"No one?" Both men could hear the disbelief in her voice.

"No. We've already got SOB and SWAT in on this, from multiple divisions, patrol was pulled in to help with the girlfriend."

"Dammit!"

Provenza circled his desk and gently pushed Sharon down, onto his chair. "Calm down, calm down. You aren't supposed to-"

She rolled her eyes almost violently. "I am perfectly fine-"

"Sharon-"

"Mom-"

She glared at them and amended her statement. "I am fine to sit here. It is fine for me to, to sit here and be angry." Her expression shifted and she bit her lip again. "I cannot, however, help you in the field."

Provenza thought about it for a minute. Technically, she was out on medical leave. She wasn't really supposed to be in the room. Yet no one had rescinded her security clearance while she was gone, so she was still technically an officer, unlike detectives put on mandated leave.

"Sharon, uh- Commander?"

"Yes?"

"Could you run command?"

She frowned, confused. "You mean the communications here?"

"Yes."

"What are you planning?"

"Burbank is on the way to the marina. I'm going to stop by, pick up a couple people from that task force, and go to the marina. I don't want to leave any stones unturned." He looked at her grimly and knew they shared an understanding. "We can't leave any loopholes this time. This is long overdue and very, very personal."

"I can run communications." She pushed herself out of his chair and moved over to the radios, familiarizing herself with the channels and Provenza's organization. She nodded to herself before facing him. "Be careful. He's smart, and I think he's cocky, but I think he knows how to keep himself in check."

Provenza snorted. "Yeah, he's really been working on checks and balances since he came back stateside. I understand," he added.

"Lieutenant," Rusty cut in. "I want to go with."

"Absolutely not." The words were out of Sharon's mouth before she could even process them.

"Mom. I really think Tammy Bechtal might be dead."

"Because she's not picking up the phone?" When her son nodded, she continued. "Then it's a matter for the LAPD."

"I'll stay in the car."

"Mmhmm." She clearly didn't believe him. "Rusty, I can't-"

"Keep me safe, I know. I know, but I can take care of myself." His expression twisted as he spoke. He could remember telling her that so many years before, when he was in emergency care and still calling her Captain Raydor. "This is just. . . It's really important to me. I need to see it through, and I've come this far on it." He waved a hand towards the notes and photos he'd added to her squad's work. He wasn't a cop or anything, but he felt drawn to see the conclusion. The case had lasted nearly half his lifetime, and had been the discerning factor for him. What happened six years before was bad, sure, but what had followed had been the best years of his life. He'd found a mother and a father, lost them both, found his mom, graduated, found a family, graduated college, and found a purpose. "Please, Mom."

Sharon let out an exasperated breath.

"Commander." Provenza had his jacket on and was ready to leave. "We're running out of time."

She groaned quietly. This was the endgame. She couldn't shelter Rusty under her wings forever, but nor could she let him blindly fall out of the nest. She opened her eyes and caught Provenza's gaze. "Bring my son back to me."

There was a moment of silence, then he saluted her with two fingers. "Ma'am."

She turned to the boy. "Be safe. That gun is your last resort. You are not an officer. Do not pull that trigger unless it is the last option. Okay?"

"Yes, Mom."

"Okay."

He watched her lips tighten, and knew it wasn't what she wanted to do. "I love you."

"I know. Listen to Lieutenant Provenza. I'll see you tonight."

He nodded and jogged over to join Provenza as the old detective started away.

Sharon watched them go and finally returned her attention to the radios. They were clearly a quick fix, hastily set up. Usually, a command station would have a computer that would interface between all the radios, allowing her to speak to any and all with one microphone and one headset. At least, that was how her mobile command had been in FID. She began organizing Provenza's system, making a mental note to begin budgeting for- if nothing else- a better radio system for Major Crimes.

The channels were relatively quiet as various units began reorganizing. Sykes' team followed the girl they rescued to the hospital, leaving Cooper and the patrolman to stay with her and the young man Tao had shot.

Tao himself was running through the computer files while he worked with Sharon's old team. He kept an open mic to speak with her as he verified the dossier's contents. She was pleased to note that now-Lieutenant Ellis was doing his best to accommodate her by allowing Tao to double-task. Ellis was quietly asking questions and occasionally helping Mike with the computer. Sharon had forgotten how good her old sergeant had been with electronics, but he was rapidly proving himself again.

She had thought Andy was going to explode when she announced her presence and command over the radios. He had only been a few minutes away from Burbank when she did it, so he'd had to contain his anger and muster his officers. He'd sounded tense, and she knew there would be fallout later.

Provenza checked in with her when he, Buzz, and Rusty arrived at the marina, and she tried to keep her worry at bay, choosing to focus on Amy's arrival at the Burbank airport.

So far, nothing had happened. Andy seemed to be maintaining control well, but she could tell they were all jumpy. Nothing had happened, but all the messages coming in and out of the airport were snappy and short.

"Uh, Command, Provenza."

Sharon reached for the microphone button and toggled it. "Provenza, continue."

"Yeah, we need a bus out here, uh, suspicions confirmed." He was mincing his words, but she understood. There were rules about what could and couldn't be said over a radio, as well as the ever-present threat of news agencies listening in.

"Damn." The word echoed in the empty room. She toggled the button again. "I'll get that rolling. Do you need back-up?"

There was a long pause. "That might be good, yeah. Send Sanchez and Sykes."

"Copy that." She called in to the airport first, prioritizing her live people over yet another she couldn't save. Amy and Julio were fast and good in high-stress situations. If Provenza wanted them, it was likely that he'd found some indication of Stroh, that the epicenter was moving from Burbank to the coast.

Her phone rang a minute later, and she drew it out of her pocket. Provenza again. She frowned, drawing her finger across the screen.

"Lieutenant?"

"I know this is unorthodox, but I have a feeling we might be in over our heads."

"What-?"

"We're in the Bechtals' house. The wife is dead in her closet, few hours, I'd guess."

"What about that is screaming Stroh to you?"

Provenza spoke quietly. "The kid came up with a good idea. There's a photo of this yacht on the wall, a Ms. Bechtal, and I can't imagine Stroh would find anything as. . . pleasing as making off in that boat."

"Scot-free with his step-father's boat. Yes, I could see that, especially with all those supplies we saw in the dossier. The boat is at the marina?"

"Yeah, I haven't gone down to it, Rusty said he can see it out the window. Of the car," he added hurriedly.

"It's alright," she sighed. "Amy and Julio are coming to you, lights and sirens, but they're probably still ten minutes out."

"Aw, hell."

"I know."

"I want to go out to that boat."

"That's not procedure!" The words slipped out, and Provenza groaned.

"Commander, you and the rules!"

"No, Louie," her voice dropped. "It's just you, and no back-up."

"I've got Buzz."

"Buzz is a reservist."

"Sharon, if he's on that boat and he gets away. . . I'd rather give my life stopping him here and now, than stick around and die in another ten or twenty years not knowing he's been on Morales' table."

Her throat tightened, and she tilted her head back. "I can't stop you."

"No."

"I'll tell Amy to drive faster."

There was another momentary silence. "Mute your end of the phone. I'll keep the call going. If we're going to even try vaguely observing your rules, we need a record of what happens."

"Okay." Before she muted her phone, she added one more comment. "Good hunting." She crossed to Mike's desk and pulled his recorder out of the drawer. For whatever reason, he'd always kept one there. She set it up next to her phone's speaker and sat back down in her chair. A moment later, she radioed her husband again and diverted more of his force to the marina. She placed a second call to dispatch and requested an ambulance be staged near the marina. Whatever happened, she was sure someone would be bleeding. She had never prayed for harm to befall someone, as much as she has sometimes wanted, but she prayed that the paramedics would be for Stroh, exclusively.

There wasn't much noise now, except the background sirens whenever anyone got on the radios to talk. She could hear soft creaks and rustles from her phone, and she tapped her feet against the tiled floor nervously.

"We're almost there," Amy said suddenly. "I'm just going to park in front of the dock gate. Commander, did the Lieutenant say where the boat is?"

"Dock M. It's called Ms. Bechtal."

"Bechtal, copy."

There was another agonizing silence, and Sharon lunged out of her chair when it broke.

"Hell," Provenza whispered.

Sharon rested her hands on either side of the phone, resisting the urge to unmute it and ask what was wrong. He hadn't yelled, hadn't called for help, so she had to trust him.

"We're here," Amy announced tersely. There were a series of bangs as she and Sanchez left the car, and Sharon could hear the sirens wailing, pitch dropping as Amy presumably rounded the car and began jogging down to the docks.

"Freeze, asshole!" The words came from the phone this time, and Sharon closed her eyes in consternation. She reached into her pocket, as she had for so many years, and ran her fingers over her rosary.

"Sancte Michael Archangele," she whispered. Saint Michael the Archangel, patron saint of policemen. Once again, she was powerless. There was nothing she could do but hope for the best. "Defende nos in proelio." Defend us in battle. Please, Amy, hurry. Please, Julio.

There was a metallic clatter, too light to be a falling sidearm.

"Set the knife down, and put the handcuffs on." Provenza's tone was low and steady, not betraying any emotion. "Easy does it."

"Lieutenant Provenza, what an unpleasant surprise."

Sharon tensed at the oily tone. She could have gone the rest of her life without hearing it again.

"Handcuffs on, stop screwing around."

"I know Brenda's been out of the job for a while now, but I was expecting to see your Captain. Oh, that's right, she's been quite ill recently, hasn't she? Something about a heart attack, I heard?"

One of the radios crackled to life, and Sharon jumped at the noise.

There was heavy breathing and a rhythmic pounding. "At the docks, ma'am." It was Sanchez. "We're almost there. I can see-"

"What the fuck?" Uncharacteristically, Amy swore somewhere in the background, and the radio connection dropped.

"Kick the knife away." Provenza's side of the story resumed.

"Pity she made it past that, I would have enjoyed watching her funeral on the news. I'd imagine they'd cover that. Highest ranked woman in the one of the largest police departments in the country, yeah, that'd be news."

"Final warning."

Sharon grimaced. As tough as he was playing, the lieutenant was starting to feel the pressure. She was, too. Whatever Amy and Julio had seen was happening on-shore, and if Stroh was with Provenza. . .

"Okay, okay, just thought we could have a little chat, catch up. . ."

There was another long quiet, punctuated by the sound of what Sharon presumed was Stroh's knife skittering across the floor.

"Easy does it. . ."

Sharon grabbed the radio to Andy. "Andy, Provenza has Stroh at the marina. I'm requesting all your non-necessary personnel relocate-" She could hear the pitch of her voice rising in a panic.

"Yes, ma'am. Sharon, deep breath."

"Stop!" It was a loud shriek, higher than Provenza, but a masculine tone nonetheless.

The radio slipped from Sharon's hand. "Rusty."

"Russell Beck, we meet again."

The words froze her on the spot.

"Lieutenant," Rusty's voice was shaking slightly. "He's got a gun in his sock."

"Not even going to talk to me, Rusty?"

"Straighten up, Stroh," Provenza said roughly.

"Stop, down, up. . . Make up your mind, old man. That's what we all have to do right now. Shoot, don't shoot. Stop, start, come. . . go."

Go.

Sharon screamed as a gunshot echoed through her phone and Amy's radio squawked to life again.

"I've got shots fired! Requesting back-up!"

Sharon reached for her phone, suddenly aware that she was on her knees before Provenza's desk.

"Lieutenant!" She unmuted the line as she spoke. "Lieutenant Provenza!"

There was a scuffling noise, and a low moan.

"He's okay, Sharon. He's okay." Provenza sounded slightly out of breath.

She sank back on her heels and pressed one hand to her heart, feeling her pulse pounding in her throat.

"Oh my God."

There was more pounding and indistinct shouting, and then Sharon could hear both Amy and Julio.

"I got it, Rusty. I got it." Amy's words were followed by a thump and a sharp gasp from whoever had moaned a minute before. "I gotta put pressure on your wound, sir. Can't have you die on us here."

"Rusty, come here. Yeah, just put that down, he's not going anywhere." A pause, then Julio added "Nice shot."

"Rusty!"

Provenza couldn't tell if his boss sounded more outraged or shocked as she finally put the pieces together. "He's fine, Commander," he said gently. "It's okay. Stroh went for that gun, and Rusty got him clean through the shoulder. Bastard's going to be fine. It was a good shot. Takes after his mother." She made a strangled noise that may have been a laugh, but he wasn't really sure. "Are you okay, Sharon?" he added quietly, turning away from the scene before him.

"Mm." She took a deep breath. "Rusty's okay?"

"Yep. A little shaken, but he's fine."

"You're okay?"

Provenza chuckled. "I feel wonderful, Commander. I've been waiting for this day to come."

"Okay. Okay. Uhm, I'll get FID to your location. They're probably done with Mike, at least at the scene. There'll be more paperwork, and the 72-hour-"

She was rambling, and he cut her off. "Hey. Sit yourself down, and just," he shrugged reflexively, knowing she couldn't see him. "Make a cup of tea. Breathe. Everyone is fine. As soon as we're cleared off the scene, I'll bring the kid to you myself." He lowered his voice further. "He did the right thing, Sharon. I know you didn't want this, but it was a good call. I didn't have as good a line of sight as he did, and he caught the gun a second earlier than I did. Probably saved at least one of our lives, maybe both of us."

"Okay." She was overwhelmed.

"I'm going to hang up, call Flynn, and tell him to get his ass back to the office. Howard is at the airport, too, so he can take charge."

"Okay. That would be good."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll see you soon."

"See you soon," she echoed.

A/N- I should have the next chapter out soon. I was just really struggling with how to end all that balogna. Anyways. I still feel like Sharon is going to be pissed AF once she gets over the initial adrenaline haha. . . You've got that to look forward to (;