Author's Note: Well, it's one day late but I blame the Jubilations and the insane cooking/baking/grilling/drinking that was going on in this house. Anyway, thank you guys for your lovely comments! I truly appreciate them!

Chapter Thirty-Six:

...and Senseless Acts of Beauty.

It was a faintly familiar sound that woke Brenda eventually. She realized, as she pried an eye open, that the room wasn't completely dark, that there was a brightness coming in from a window.

She realized that she wasn't at home.

She was in a bed.

The noise was the ringing of a phone.

And what had actually awoken her was Sharon, who had gotten out of bed at the ever louder getting ringing coming from the hallway.

"Captain Raydor speaking..." She said in a hushed voice, standing in the doorway, checking up on her. She hadn't realized Brenda was awake. "What is it, Sergeant?"

The woman turned, disappearing from view.

Brenda sighed and relaxed for a moment. The clock on the bedside table read 5:26 in bold, red letters.

Wrapping the blanket around herself, Brenda decided to try to find her clothes, hoping she wouldn't see much of the Captain, wherever the heck she was, and get out of there fairly unnoticed.

Her shoes were clearly visible, laying in the dim light provided by the window. Her dress was at the end of the bed.

Her panties had never come off but her bra was missing.

Raydor had flung it somewhere.

She did find the Captain's though...

Brenda sat down on the bed, staring at the woman's bra.

Perhaps it had somehow managed to get underneath.

The blonde bent over the edge of the bed.

"What are you doing?"

Brenda shot up, Sharon's bra clutched to her chest.

"That's mine...again." She wandered across the room, wearing a robe, and picked up Brenda's bra from the floor with her mere pinky. "That was Sergeant Elliott on the phone," she explained as she approached. "I have to go."

The blonde nodded slowly, "Did somethin' happen?" She wondered, appearing only mildly interested.

"Nothing you have to get involved in." Sharon replied curtly, handing over the bra. "I have to shower, Sergeant Elliott is going to pick-"

"Somebody get shot?"

"No," Sharon almost rolled her eyes. "Sergeant Elliott is going to be here any minute and your car-"

"Somebody die?"

"No. Listen. You have to get dressed-"

"You throwin' me out?" Brenda asked, scandalized.

Sharon groaned. "Alright. Stay. Wait till we've left. You can shower but don't touch anything."

Brenda blinked.

"You're confined to this room."

She scoffed. "No need to be so controllin', Cap'n. So, what did Sergeant Elliott say on the phone?"

"I'll be in the shower." Sharon turned on her heel.

Brenda pouted to herself and fell back onto the bed, wondering if there had been a murder...or a shooting...or...what exactly did her Captain do most of the time?

She didn't have the faintest clue.

The blonde shot off the bed - where was her phone?

"Where's-" The shower went off. Brilliant. Brenda swallowed and walked towards the door. All the lights were switched off in the hallway and, judging from the proximity of the sound, the bathroom was right across the hall.

Well then, Brenda thought with a defiant expression, and went in search of her phone. It couldn't be far, most likely in her purse that she had left by the door. She rooted around in it, shifting papers, the smaller purse she had worn for their dinner, a pair of panties that she had packed (just in case) and decided to wear immediately.

She pulled down the ones she was wearing, clutching the sheet to her body. As she pulled the new panties up her legs, she heard the distinct sound of a car.

It sounded closer than it should if it were merely passing the house.

"Shoot!" Brenda hobbled to the left, into the next room and peered through the curtains.

Sergeant Elliott was getting out of his car that he had parked on the driveway as if he had done it a hundred times before.

"Shoot, shoot, shoot!"

He did, to her utter horror, look intently at her silver Crown Vic.

Brenda made a beeline for the bedroom, slamming the door and falling onto the bed, purse and all.

The doorbell rang.

Just...wonderful!

"Hello? Captain?"

Brenda's eyes almost rolled back in her head - he was in the house?

"One minute!" Sharon yelled.

What was he doing here? How did he get here so quickly? Brenda's mind reeled as her eyes landed on the Captain's cell phone.

Perhaps he had been calling for the past half hour.

Sharon burst through the door then, her hair wet at the tips and tied back in an unfashionable display. She yanked the door to her closet open and went through the rack of power suits.

Brenda smirked gleefully as a black dress came flying her way.

Then the woman raided the underwear drawer, pulling a bra from it and matching panties.

She dropped the robe and stood there, naked.

Brenda inhaled slowly, letting her eyes wander across the woman's body as she frantically pulled the panties up her legs and slipped into the bra, fastening the clasp as she advanced on Brenda and the dress.

They made brief eye contact as the Captain pulled the dress up.

It was modest and rather proper, knee length of course but Brenda couldn't help but admire her elegant, slim form.

"Zip!" Sharon ordered quietly and presented her back.

Brenda zipped, smirking.

Then Raydor was at the door, poking her head out. "Why aren't you getting yourself a coffee, Sergeant?"

Elliott was apparently still standing in the hallway.

"Uh," he said, "I thought...the car..."

Sharon, without meaning to give herself away, did just that by turning to look at Brenda. "Oh, uh...I'll be right there!"

The blonde rolled her eyes and dropped the sheet unceremoniously to get dressed.

"You may use the shower, if you feel that you have to," the brunette said, fussing with her hair and implying that she would rather have Brenda not use it. "I'll lock the door when-"

"How am I supposed to get out?"

"Shh!" Sharon shushed her then her expression changed suddenly. "Through the garage."

"What?"

"It has a switch...on the inside..."

"No, no, no," Brenda said with finality, having climbed out a window or two back in the day when Will had still been in the picture and one thing was for sure, she was not going back there.

"I'm leavin' through the front door," she said.

"You can't do that."

"Why not?"

Appropriately at that very moment, they heard a drawer bang somewhere in the house.

"You know," Brenda started, an undignified expression on her face, "You should get a new lock. It's not safe."

Sharon sighed and rubbed her forehead. "There's a spare key by the door and don't forget to lock it when you leave."

"Promise," the blonde grinned. "You better take care of whatever Sergeant Elliott came here for or he might dismantle your kitchen."

"Yes, thank you," Sharon drawled and put on a very dashing looking jacket.

"How come he can just walk in here whenever he wants?"

The brunette lifted her eyebrows and met Brenda's gaze with cool, yet sparkling eyes. "And here I thought you weren't into all that sharing and getting to know each other business."

"Well," Brenda drawled slowly but didn't know what else to say.

"You're just nosy," she concluded and gave her a kiss. "I have to go." She glanced at her watch. "And remember: don't touch anything."

Brenda massaged in the conditioner.

It said something about luscious curls.

And it smelled of her Captain.

She used the shower gel as well, lots of it, slathering it on and rubbing her arms, her stomach, her breasts.

Once she felt clean and sufficiently covered in her Captain, she stepped out of the shower and used a towel carefully folded over a rack. She took a deep breath as she dried her face, breathing in the detergent.

And left it on the bedroom floor.

She dressed and searched her purse for her phone.

There was a message; Brenda's heart missed a beat.

'Tried you at home. Call me when you get this.'

The blonde bit her lip, her brain not wasting any time in trying to conjure up a story to tell him. She left the bedroom and walked down the hall. She found the kitchen, in the sink was Sergeant Elliott's coffee cup.

Brenda leaned against the counter and sighed.

Good thing the department wasn't into vanity plates or else the Sergeant might have figured which cop exactly his Captain was trying to hide in the bedroom.

Brenda hated close calls like this - for her it wasn't about the possibility of getting caught, she rather enjoyed operating undetected.

She had missed Fritz's call. She hoped he hadn't tried work. Was this his way of testing her? Things weren't the best when they had parted but, Brenda had to remind herself, he loved her, and he wouldn't knowingly sabotage their marriage.

Or would he?

Brenda opened a cupboard, the one above the coffee maker, in search for a mug.

The lovely Sergeant Elliott had left some coffee in the pot.

The blonde poured herself a generous cup.

Sugar. Where would Raydor keep that?

Brenda held her breath for a moment as she went in search, conscious of her phone still sitting there.

She did find sugar after the third cupboard she had opened and put three whole tea spoons in. She stirred, took a sip and picked up her phone.

Wandering back towards the bedroom, phone pressed to her ear, Brenda was suddenly aware that she felt rather displaced again, like she always did after having spent the night with her Captain.

There was an eerie calm within her that she couldn't explain, a detachedness from reality, a distance between herself and her own life. It always worried her but she couldn't bring herself to end this, to walk out and go back to how things were before she had met the woman.

But there was no going back, at least she felt like it, Raydor was there and she wouldn't go away anytime soon.

If anything, Brenda thought with a self-satisfactory smirk, if anything, Raydor would be around a lot more often.

"Hey, Brenda..."

The blonde was startled by the voice on the other end. "Hi, Fritzy." She recovered her composure and immediately launched into her explanation with her best pitiful yet whiney voice. "I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner, it's just been terrible at work."

"Yeah, I thought as much."

"And is it impossible to get decent coffee in this town?" She stared into her mug, wishing she had thought of milk because that Sergeant Elliott didn't have the faintest clue how to brew a proper pot.

"You should try our coffee maker at home."

"Very funny..." She took a large sip as she swept into the bedroom and nearly tripped over the towel she had so thoughtlessly disposed of. "So, when are you comin' home?"

"Ah," Fritz was apparently slurping his own coffee. "That's why I'm calling..."

"Don't tell me they want you to move there," Brenda ask, scandalized.

"No, of course not! It's just that, if I left tomorrow-"

Tomorrow?

"-Morgan would have to stay an extra four days."

"So you thought you'd help her out a little," the blonde finished contritely, walking across the room to the window. She stared out at the backyard, hand on her hip, tapping her foot and fully prepared to lay it on thick.

Because even though this was nice, having her time with Raydor whenever she wanted, she did miss Fritz.

He was the most important person in her life.

Not Raydor.

And that was when she realized that perhaps Brenda Leigh Johnson was the most important person in her life, seeing as how much she already missed her time with the Captain.

No matter, Brenda argued, this was about Fritz.

And just a year ago he would have rather come home to her.

"You think that after all that's happened..." She trailed off, eying up the walk in closet. "You think that's a good idea?"

"Honey," Fritz said empathetically, the first indication that whatever was about to leave his mouth was utter bullshit. "This is my job. You know better than anyone how it can get in the way of life. Besides, Morgan and I are making progress here."

Right. He was using her work against her now.

Brenda took a deep breath, her hand resting against the door. This wasn't the time and the place to be childish.

She had to calm the heck down.

"Fine. If y'all are havin' such a great time in San Diego, why don't y'all stay there."

She hung up.

Ugh!

What had come over her? She was insanely jealous of the woman for no apparent reason. She was gay with a gay wife and a dog.

For heaven's sakes!

Her phone rang and for a moment she wasn't entirely sure whether to be scared or happy about it.

"Yes?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Brenda?"

Yes, what was wrong with her?

Brenda leaned against the doorframe of the closet, eyes tightly shut.

"I don't know," she said feebly. "Things are all over the place...and I miss you..."

"Well," Fritz said calmly, "Maybe that's not such a bad thing."

"What is?"

"You. Missing me," he clarified.

Brenda's jaw dropped. "How is that a good thing?"

"Listen," Fritz sighed, dropping the subject. "I'll be home soon then we can talk."

The blonde stepped into the closet, absentmindedly letting her fingers glide over the woman's clothes. "Alright," she said eventually, quite relieved that this whole conversation was over. "Well...I should go home and get some coffee then."

"Sounds good," Fritzy smiled. "Say hi to Joel from me."

"Will do..."

"Okay." He paused. "I'll talk to you soon, Brenda. I love you."

"I love you too...bye."

"Bye."

"Bye now." She hung up and took a deep breath which reminded her where she was.

In Raydor's closet amongst masses of suits and skirts and blouses and dresses.

Trying to forget about the phone call, Brenda found herself drawn to a particularly flattering piece of clothing that hung between blacks, grays, purples and charcoals.

A red dress.

The blonde sucked her lower lip in as she stared at it with a mischievous expression.

She shouldn't, really.

Brenda picked it up by the hanger and trailed her fingertips over the material, curious, almost marvelous then she held the dress against her body and paraded it in front of the mirror.

It was gorgeous, she thought and wished she could stuff it in her handbag and take it home with her.

But then again, Brenda mused contemplatively, head tilted to the side as she studied her reflection, but then again, this dress would be wasted on her.

On Sharon however it would be stunning.

Mindblowingly sexy even.

Brenda swallowed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment, picturing it purposefully and knowing full well that it would put her in a state but unable to keep herself from doing it.

Sharon Raydor in that dress. It clung to her, showed off that absolutely fabulous chest that Brenda was sure everyone would appreciate the sight of if the woman decided not to hide it away anymore.

And those legs.

Brenda smirked and inhaled the scent of the garment; she had never really understood that appreciation for legs Lieutenant Flynn had proclaimed on numerous occasions but now she knew - Sharon Raydor's legs were amazing.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes..." She chastised herself and put the dress back rather hastily.

Panting slightly as she emerged from the closet, and shutting the door behind herself with more force than was necessary, Brenda surveyed the room one more time.

She picked up her towel and folded it.

The blonde suddenly felt the need to erase all trace of her presence and made to straighten out the rumpled sheets. Raydor would strip the bed when she got home tonight, no doubt, they smelled of sex but she couldn't help but clean up after herself.

Picking up the folded towel, Brenda ended up back in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror.

Her Captain had warned her not to touch anything but her hair was an utter mess and there was the brush - Brenda figured, she might as well.

Going through the cabinets in search of a hair band to tie her hair back with, Brenda concluded that her Captain was a rather organized woman and that she owned nice things.

Like expensive lipstick for example.

Brenda applied an even coat of dark, maroonish red and pursed her lips.

She did love her Captain's lips.

The way she kissed with them, the way they felt - never too dry, never too moist - against Brenda's own lips. They never seemed pliant or particularly luscious, which Brenda suspected was caused by what was coming out of the woman's mouth, every sharp little syllable, but once they kissed those lips felt warm and full and soft.

Women's lips, Brenda suspected, were just that.

Warm and full and soft.

The blonde stared at herself, the rather unfitting color on her lips and dabbed away at it to make it seem at least a bit lighter.

There.

She smiled.

Time to go home.

Joel had greeted her with a meow, slinking around her legs and schmoozing with her ankles, to hopefully soften her up enough to go straight to his food bowl.

She had picked him up and kissed his little head before she had left the house again, wearing clean clothes, to go to work.

Brenda realized she was a bit early but her mind had already been on the tasks at hand. She had managed to delegate and share her responsibilities, namely the paperwork, with Lieutenant Provenza, her second in command.

It was perhaps the only 'responsibility' that she truly managed to delegate.

When she had started, Brenda remembered nostalgically, she had had to do everything by herself.

Nothing got done.

At least not without backstabbing.

She felt a bit like that with Raydor.

In the beginning.

Because they had gotten nothing done without backstabbing and looks that could melt the polar ice caps.

But, much like the relationship between Brenda and her squad, they had sort of, kind of, maybe grown on each other a little bit.

Raydor was just so hard to get used to, the blonde thought, an acquired taste, really, unlike herself of course - Brenda considered herself just a tad eccentric and perhaps, even though she wouldn't say it out loud, somewhat quicker than most.

She had merely been born with a good helping of common sense which, she found, was clouded by silly things such as politics and feelings in pretty much every other person on earth.

Not that she suffered any delusions of grandeur.

However, Brenda thought as she stepped onto the elevator, the CIA picked its people carefully. She wasn't entirely sure why they had picked her of all people though.

She had wondered about that a lot once upon a time, she had wondered if she was actually enough of a sociopath to make a living out of lying.

Well, Brenda reminded herself, she was here now, in Los Angeles as a Deputy Chief of the police, fighting the good fight.

It wasn't really about that though, was it?

Murder just was addictive, no matter whether you committed it or solved it.

"Good morning, Chief."

Brenda spun around, nearly tripping over her own feet and spotted Provenza, coffee cup in hand, approaching from the break room.

"Lieutenant," the blonde was rather surprised to see him. "My, aren't you an early bird?"

"Never really left," Provenza announced and pulled his jacket from the back of his chair. "Was just on my way out when I get a call from little Sergeant Elliott to report an incident on the Witch's behalf."

"I really wish you wouldn't call her that, Lieutenant." Brenda chastised then realized what he had just said. "Hold on, what incident?"

"Eh," Provenza waved her off and grabbed a file off his desk. "Some idiot threw a chair through her office window."

"What?"

"Yeah. Stupid. He's locked up, lost his job too," Provenza rambled, handing her the folder. "Apparently he's got a bad temper but as Sergeant Elliott so dutifully informed me, that has to have no impact on my report...which is this, t's crossed and i's dotted."

Brenda glanced over the paperwork until it was snatched from her hands.

"And I was just about to deliver copies to the Pope and the Witch."

"Lieutenant!"

"Fine," he said lamely. "Captain Raydor."

Brenda scoffed and relieved him of the folder again. "You go on home, Lieutenant. No one wants to see you when you're in that kind of mood."

Provenza smirked and nodded tiredly. "Thank you, Chief."

But Brenda wasn't really paying attention anymore. She hoisted her purse further up on her shoulder and marched along, straight for the elevator.