The captain knew, kept it quiet. But really, it was just a matter of time until the news about her brief acting career broke. And, oh boy, when it broke, it broke. She had a good thing going – Dan and her had just informed HR on the recent changes in their relationship and while work was exhausting and devastating at times, it was rewarding above all.

The day started out bad already. Although she slept through her alarm, her reliable internal clock woke her up just in time to have a quick shower and completely ruin her uniform in the process of hastily slurping some very needed caffeine. Wilma, her old and very nosey neighbour, caught up to her just as she was about to enter the cruiser. No doubt having pressed her ear to the door, ready to pounce on her like an elderly, grey tiger. With the hair curlers frantically bobbing up and down, Wilma started complaining in a tone far too high-pitched and loud about having heard some strange, moaning noises coming from her apartment last night.

"Miss Decker! I was so worried! At first I thought I'd need to call the police with all the banging going on, but then I heard you kids-" She blushed, pulling her dressing gown a little closer. "All I'm saying is, maybe you should think about the company you keep. Once you earn that kind of reputation, you don't get rid of it so easy, young lady. The whole neighbourhood could hear it! And some of us need a little more sleep."

This wasn't her neighbours first attempt at subtly questioning her life choices. Because apparently having a sex life with her boyfriend was a crime now. Date nights would have to end at Dan's place. Though, his bed was the worst. A sacrifice she was willing to make if it meant Wilma would drop the matter.

"Miss Russo, I'm really-"

"Its Mrs. Russo, honey. There is a difference."

Chloe suppressed the need to roll her eyes. She was already late, fighting this would only lead to being stuck in LA rush-hour.

"Mrs. Russo, I'm very sorry we disturbed you last night. It won't happen again." Ignoring the offended huffing noises coming from her elderly neighbour, Chloe managed to slide into the driver's seat. Maybe she could smooth things out with some baked goods and gossip. She didn't put it past the woman to request a unit to her apartment for having sex.

L.A. traffic was bad on a good day. On a bad day, it was hell. With a lot of cursing and nervous glances at the clock in the dashboard, she eventually made it to the station, although far too late. She'd have to stay longer and take some paperwork home tonight.

Chloe blamed it on having to rush this morning, but she was a cop – she should've noticed it immediately. Something was off. Half the cops in proximity were staring and whispering, the others were trying just a little too hard to look busy. She looked down on herself – she had changed the uniform, the spilled coffee from this morning long gone.

"… John's kid? Are you sure?"

"Yup. Used a different name, Chloe Dancer. Tits out. John must've been so fucking embarrassed. Imagine your own daughter-"

Shit. A matter of time, she knew that. Men will be men, boys will be boys, a topless hot tub scene will always be a topless hot tub scene. Fuck.

Dan was pissed. Pissed at the guy making the oh-so-subtle connection of an ash-blonde, topless Chloe Dancer, pissed at Chloe, generally just pissed. The "Look, Chlo, we'll fix this. Talk to Monroe, maybe take some days off, just until this blows over." turned into "Do you think this is easy for me? The whole station has seen my girlfriend naked." The giddy excitement from dating a "movie star", his words, turned into embarrassment far too quickly.

After the initial stomach drop, the rest of the day was a blur. Her partner, Molly Rogers, had been more than understanding. Since returning from maternity leave a few months ago, Molly and her had been on most patrols together. She was easy going, kind and considerate. Always took the route of de-escalation, always understanding. If half the cops in the force had been a little more like her, it might've even been a decent organisation.

Chloe's insistence on being fine and not needing to take the day off had been met with little resistance from Molly, a slightly raised eyebrow if even. Only thing worse than your male-dominated workplace having seen your best assets was appearing weak in front of them, a lesson both of them had learned quickly. But she shouldn't have let Chloe drive. They just left a DV scene when the dispatch came in. A shooting, all hands-on deck. She shouldn't have been in the driver's seat. She shouldn't have told Molly to read Dans texts to her. She shouldn't have run that light before turning on the siren.

If anyone would ask, she could describe how the strong rumble of the engine of her cruiser felt. How the air was heavy and hot and too much. The smell of the warm leather of the steering wheel, which she was gripping just a little too tightly. She could describe the gentle look on Molly's face when she read Dan's latest text back to her. Chloe couldn't have named the model of the car that hit them. It was big. It might've been black. Maybe dark blue or grey. The unnamed-dark car had the right of way. She didn't. She hadn't flicked her siren on just yet, but her foot had hit the pedal in anticipation of it already.

The world was upside down briefly, then dark.