Oh, fair and flighty love
My aerolite above
The only dove I see
Could you love me more
If by the sun and moon I swore
That I would never flee?

I still taste you on my lips
Lovely bitter water
The terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue
And I know I shouldn't love you
I know I shouldn't love you, but I do

(…)

I am not a fool entire
No, I know what is coming
You'll bury me beneath the tree
I climbed
When I was a child

I know I shouldn't love you
I know I shouldn't love you.
But I do.
Act I;

Bitter Water by The Oh Hellos

Given how Brenda Leigh's own father was, mostly, absent, being an army Captain, but was a stern, imposing figure in her life when he was — with some softness for his Wife, daughter and sons, only — it was no wonder that William Pope was an attractive figure to her when she was first liaising to the department.

Will made sure he complimented her on her work. He thought she was brilliant. She fell head over heels for his doting ways and the little gifts he left her. He looked at her legs in the skirts she wore when he needed her to liaison. She loved his attention. But more importantly she loved her success rate, the adrenaline they induced together from getting confessions, the euphoria of solving cases, the rush of being good.

Letting Will into her heart was easy. Falling into bed with Will was easier. She was a young, ex-CIA field operative, now liaison to the D.C Metro Department. She was eager to forget the things she had done. She wasn't as idealistic as she was before; she was ready for a new part of life.

She came to work for him and their relationship developed further. Brenda was enamored by him and his charming words, the tender way he held her when they had sex, how he used sweet words to get himself out of trouble. And given that they worked together, he frequently did something to agitate her. It just made the rush of being together more pleasurable.

And then, it turned out Pope was married, and he hadn't told her. She had to find out because Brenda was sitting on his desk, inspecting her nails, waiting for him to show up for lunch and his wife walked in, intending to surprise him, and both of them were surprised to see the other.

Brenda politely apologized and introduced herself as his coworker, put her sweater firmly on over her almost-not-appropriate-blouse, leaving the room as fast as humanly possible. This was before she could have sat with this woman, chatted with her, made her comfortable, and waited for Will to make an appearance.

This was when she was vulnerable, her heart small and crumbling under the force of William Pope and his carelessness with such a fragile thing, made of glass, already damaged from her time at the CIA.

Oh, how her heart was broken. At first, he begged her for time, and she naively believed him. She waited, and waited, and waited on him. She kept meeting him in illicit places.

Eventually, she realized he was never going to leave his wife, after too long of waiting for him to choose her, and she hopped ship to Atlanta, back home, to heal.

It was funny, she thought, while watching an old movie with her Mama. She had wanted a fairytale romance and she got it.

Shallow and undeveloped. Selfish and fast. Will Pope liked her when she did things for him — whether that was in the office or in his bed. When she got home, she moped around for months. Her Daddy wanted to go 'have a strong word' with 'whoever this Will character is', and she appreciated his protective nature, but it wasn't necessary. And it wouldn't change anything, anyway. Will chose his wife, chose the easy way out, chose himself.

Didn't choose her.

All of the words he told her, the lies he sold her, the things he said late at night in bed or looking up at the stars or the dates he took her on — oh, Brenda felt so stupid.

Did he not believe in them? Even if the divorce would have been hard, she thought they could have gotten through it. She would have stuck by him. She would stick by him, when he asked her to; she would go on to take the fall several times, without question.

It was unfortunate that this was not a lesson she would learn for quite some time. But she was just a stupid, stupid girl, who still lived with her head in her heart for many, many, many years to come.