"Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we'll never get used to it."

- Richard Siken, Scheherazade

Lights flashing and sirens on Brenda pulled into the crime scene and practically screeched to a stop. This was going to be a make it or break it case and she could still feel Will - Chief Pope blowing up her phone for updates and she wasn't even there yet.

Flynn opened her door before Brenda could and she nodded her thanks to the Lieutenant as she exited the car and he shut the door behind her.

"Evening, Chief," Gabriel says, approaching from the side as the pair walked up. "Two paramedics… responding to a 911 call on their way to the hospital, when the guy became combative. Four minutes later, backup arrived, then found both of them dead from multiple gunshot wounds.

"Any witnesses?" she tries to convince herself that maybe there might be, but doesn't count on it.

Still, it's hard not to purse her lips in frustration when Gabriel replies, "None."

"Air support was overhead in five minutes, and saw no one within a mile radius; it's like the guy just disappeared."

Flynn, who had been standing there patiently, spoke up now. "The fire battalion chief told me, Chief, that the paramedics use only one route from Elysian Park to the E.R., if the killer wasn't just some transient, and he really planned this out, it's possible he had an accomplice here waiting to drive him off."

Brenda bit her lip. "That accomplice could have been our 911 caller."

Flynn nods. "We're looking for him now,"

"Oh, uh, anything taken from the ambulance?" she remembers, turning to the scene that Gabriel and Flynn seemed to have… conveniently placed and angled themselves in front of her sight of…

Gabriel stops her, "No, both victims still had their wallets and I inventoried the vehicle with an E.M.T; he says the only things that were missing were some towels that the killer apparently used to wipe down the crime scene."

"So… someone posing as a sick man kills two paramedics, takes nothing, cleans up after himself, and then vanishes?"

Her Detectives had no answers for her, just the leads they found - that didn't add together in any way that made sense. Whoever did this was thorough.

Detective Sanchez doesn't smile often, but the closest he gets is when talking with the Chief or certain times, some of the squad. His face is more relaxed when he greets her. "Good evening, Chief. S.I.D. couldn't pick up any good prints-"

He saw her face fall and held up the bagged evidence, "-But I found six casings."

Brenda exhaled, relieved. "Thank you, Detective. Would you run these over to NIBIN, please?"

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Sanchez takes off at a jog. Tao calls out from across the street, approaching at a speed walk. "Chief!"

Brenda walks to meet him. "Chief, this is the run sheet the paramedics used to record everything before they pulled over. It says here they performed a G.S. - a Georgia Street Lift."

She makes some version of a frown at that. "A what?"

"Please?" Tao says to Flynn, handing him the evidence. "Gabriel, could you get her legs…?"

Brenda started to feel like this was one of those moments she should probably put a stop to things. "My legs?"

Gabriel seemed confused too, though he went along with it. "Her legs?"

Tao was patient with them both, instructing them through it. Flynn just stood back and watched, amused. And amazed. The Chief is guarded and doesn't let people touch her very often.

Flynn feels affection and almost gags at the irony of it. How much he himself hated her at first, but now would lay down his life for her, and how she would do the same for him or any of their squad. How she had literally saved his job.

He watches, a little more softly, as Tao instructs Gabriel and gently reassures the Chief that it's safe to lean back.

"Turn around and lean back on me," he says, and though slowly, she does, seeming to relax after a moment. Gabriel grabbed her legs when Tao lifted her by the waist gently and she gasped, reflexively putting her hands over Tao's, not expecting to be so far off the ground.

"Oh, for heaven's sakes. Okay. Thank you," she said, tapping his hands. Gabriel put her feet back on the ground and Tao didn't release her until she was safely upright.

And then she turned right to the ambulance, like a hunter stalking its prey.

"Chief, there's something I need to tell you," Commander Taylor said urgently, appearing in her peripheral vision as she approached the ambulance like a woman on a mission. "Chief, before you-"

Brenda flings open the doors of the back of the ambulance, not going to be delayed any longer.

"Who removed the bodies?!"

He gives her a flat, unimpressed look. "That's what I was trying to tell you. The fire department took them before we arrived. L.A.F.D. won't let their people lie out dead-" he gave her a look, "-same as us, out of respect."

Brenda pursed her lips and gestured to the empty ambulance. "That respect might have just cost us the investigation!"

Taylor threw his hands up. "Okay! The bodies are at Good Samaritan. Where do you want them?"

"Taken immediately to our morgue and I'll let you know exactly how I want them brought in!" Brenda snapped, her heels clicking away fast on the pavement. "Detective!"

"All right," Taylor replied, running to catch up with her.

Gabriel, Brenda, Terrence and another morgue attendant push the gurney into the correct position.

"Just as you asked," Gabriel says, unnecessarily, because if this body wasn't as she asked, Brenda would have words with whoever prepared them for transport. She was practically depending on prints from them to make this case work.

Together, she and Gabriel pull the sheet back off of the first paramedic and pull the paper bags off of her still blue gloved hands. When Dr. Morales turns around to look at the victim, he pauses, and then he looks closer. He exhales sharply, looks between the body and Brenda.

"Oh God. Oh God," he looks nauseous, walking over to the counter. "Anna Vargas."

Brenda looks up. "You knew her?"

"We're friends," Morales replies hoarsely, pacing for a few moments before coming closer. "Good friends."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Doctor," she says softly.

"Who did this?"

"I don't-I don't know. You-you don't have to do the autopsy now, I'm only interested in the fingerprints."

He nodded, in a bit of a daze in his grief. His voice was nasally now. "Uh, should I… take their gloves off?"

"No, no, no, no." she shakes her hand out in front of his and her head. "I want the gloves exactly as they are, please, thank you. Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Tao steps forward and she pulls the glove taut for him.

Morales snaps his gloves off and takes off his cap, running a hand through his hair roughly. Brenda looks at him, briefly, wishing there was more she could do besides offering him platitudes and knows that all she can do is find who did this.

And she will.

"See, the killer's fingerprints were on her glove," Brenda said triumphantly. "This is why we don't move bodies."

"The killer's name is Kevin Mason," Gabriel says, handing her a packet of papers. "And those are the fingerprints he submitted when he applied to the L.A.F.D."

Buzz scoffed, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I sure hope he was rejected."

Gabriel nods, pointing to the records. "Yeah, he was, four times - the last time was in 2007, which is when he seems to fall off the map."

Brenda lets the papers fall back to the front. "Okay. Thank you, Detective Gabriel. Please run down all of Mr. Mason's known addresses. Let's see if we can find him."

"Chief, the 911 cell phone? Turns out it's a prepaid, but it was only used for the first time tonight," Sanchez reports, coming up short with Flynn in tow.

Flynn adds on, "Not only that, but it's got an FBI flag on it because it was purchased along with another phone that was used in an unsolved bombing attempt two years back."

Brenda looks at Chief Pope accusingly. He sighs. "A few years ago, a bomb was left at an I.R.S. office on Olympic. L.A.P.D. Counter-terrorism investigated, Tommy Delk turned it over to the FBI."

"Chief?" Tao calls, sitting at his desk. He clicks play as she and the group approach, volume loud enough that everyone will hear the 911 Call.

911, what's your emergency?

I'm in Elysian Park, a-a-and this guy's having a-a epileptic fit or something. You should send somebody, right away.

There's a pause, and heavy breathing.

He's uh-He's up on Stadium Way.

"It sounds like he's having trouble catching his breath, just like the guy the paramedics picked up," Provenza comments and Brenda mentally praises the sharp mind of her Detectives.

"Our 911 caller could be our killer," she turns around to Chief Pope again. "Oh, so, how are these murders connected to an attempted bombing of an I.R.S. building?"

The squad watches as Chief Pope and Chief Johnson walk into her office to talk. "If these were typical homicides, I would be happy to have you pursue them on your own."

She stares at him while she figures out what he really means. "Oh, you're not really suggesting I hand this case over to someone else?"

He sighs. "Brenda, these murders are connected to an ongoing investigation between the FBI and our own counterterrorism bureau led by Tommy Delk. Please note the use of the words 'terrorism' and 'Tommy Delk'."

"What kind of middle-aged man calls himself Tommy," she mutters. Will just makes a face.

A light bulb practically appears above her head. "Oh! He's on the shortlist for chief. That's why you want me to deal with him!"

He startles, caught. "No! T-T-This is good police work. And the FBI has already flagged that number, which means they're gonna be showing up here. My advice is to put out the welcome mat."

"I-I'd rather wait until I have something to trade."

"You have fingerprints and a name, what else do you need? Listen, I'll arrange a sit down with Delk. And he's got a little bit of an ego on him, but he's not unreasonable."

"Only if he understands that until I talk to him, he is not to speak to the FBI," Brenda warns, pointing at him.

"Believe me, if these cases are connected, he's gonna be a huge help," Will promises.

"If I find this 911 caller I won't need his help," she rolls her eyes.

You Have (1) New Message

Captain Raydor

Brenda debates on whether or not to answer it, but she clicks on the message anyway.

Captain Raydor: Lunch?

She snorts. Surprised she hasn't heard about the rollout she got, considering it was two L.A.F.D. members. Sends back, I probably won't have time for lunch myself, sorry. Crazy rollout. Rain check?

The buzz she gets back is near immediate - Sharon must have been waiting.

Captain Raydor: Haven't had time to catch up on the recent insanity that is Major Crimes, it's been a hectic week in F.I.D. as well. Rain check it is. Good luck with your case

Brenda smiled down at her phone. Good luck with yours too.

She lifts her head up and drops her phone in her purse, picks up the run sheet the paramedics filled out.

"Lieutenant Tao," she says, and he hmms. "I get how someone pretends to be disoriented, or mimics a seizure, but everything else recorded here - accelerated heart beat, depressed respiration, dilated pupils - how do you fake those?"

Tao thought for a moment before shaking his head. "You can't."

"According to the paramedics' run sheet, those are the symptoms he presented…"

"While I'm waiting for the phone to ping, I'll look into it," he promises.

Provenza walks to the whiteboard, marker in hand. "Here's my question. Where is Kevin Mason hiding for three years without being noticed?"

"I don't know, Lieutenant," Brenda sighed, staring at the murder board. "But we better find him before he disappears again."

Brenda's up and out of the house that morning. She doesn't want to wait to hear Fritz ask her to play nice with the FBI or tell her about how the announcement for Chief is just around the corner and really, she doesn't have to push so hard. She just wants to get there for the meeting with Pope and Delk.

Commander Taylor startles her when the elevator doors open. "Oh! Good morning, Commander."

"Good morning. Just thought you should know, because the paramedics memorial is now scheduled for Monday, the announcement for Chief," he points at her and she tries not to grimace uncomfortably, "will be delayed until Tuesday. Also, uh- Oh, I got it," he swipes his keycard and opens the door for them.

"Thank you," Brenda says, waiting for him to get to what he's edging around.

"Also, uh, Chief Pope has Delk waiting for you in his office-"

"Very good, thank you," she smiles, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, uh… yes," Taylor lingers behind her, twiddling his thumbs.

"What is it, Commander?"

"Well, look…" he clears his throat and looks down, then looks right at Brenda. "Look, Delk will have his own ideas for investigating the deaths of Silva and Vargas… and you might want to keep that in mind when collaborating with him."

"You want me to play nicely with Tommy Delk in case he becomes Chief of Police," she deciphers.

"All I'm saying is that in addition to your two victims, there are still living people still counting on you," he says seriously.

Brenda looks up at him. "Well… thank you for the vote of confidence, Commander."

They nod to each other and Taylor leaves, and she turns to face Pope's door. Brenda knocks and Pope calls 'come in.'

"Chief Johnson, I believe you've met," he says.

"Tommy Delk, good to see you again," Delk greets, extending his hand.

"And you," she says, shaking it. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Okay," Delk said slowly, sharing a look with Chief Pope as they both followed Brenda's lead and sat.

"Two years ago today —September 24th — a stolen pickup was left outside a federal office on Olympic. The flatbed contained a small explosive, and a barrel filled with fertilizer and diesel fuel. The explosive ignited, but failed to set off the larger bomb. And a phone wired to the barrel as a backup detonator also failed because the battery had lost its charge."

"Well, that's lucky," Brenda mutters.

"Yeah, for everyone. If that bomb had exploded it would have taken down half the I.R.S building," Pope says pointedly.

"Unfortunately, as far as evidence went, everything was untraceable, including the truck. Though we did recover footage of the suspect buying two prepaid phones, one of which was the backup detonator. But the video's poor quality made it impossible to identify him." Delk finishes.

"I'd very much like to view that footage," Brenda requests.

"The FBI has already made it available to you, including the rest of its findings."

"I-I'm sorry, you've already contacted the FBI? I-I specifically requested that you not discuss anything with them until we had spoken," Brenda says haltingly, struggling through diplomacy and to not make this blow up in either her or Pope's face, who is looking away from her accusing gaze, tapping his thumbs together.

Delk nods slowly, his mouth closing from the shocked shape it had been in when he looked at the Chief and the Chief stared back at him. "Chief Pope… mentioned that," he said, giving her the distinct impression he had not, in fact, mentioned it, "You understand I'm in constant communication with the feds and couldn't consider doing anything that would make me less than trustworthy."

She scoffed. "As you may know, Chief Delk, I'm somewhat connected to the FBI myself-"

"Yeah, or, if I could just," Pope tries, anticipating that he may have created more of a problem for himself than he could diplomacy himself out of.

Brenda raises her voice, "I don't know what you've shared with the FBI, but I need to examine the materials connected to that previous bombing case, immediately."

"Sure, and I'll tell you what you'll find: jack. We had the case for three months, and we found jack. The FBI had it for 21 months and they found jack."

She smirked, "Well, you and the FBI may not have found jack, but I did, and his name isn't Jack!"

"Really? Y-y-you've found him?" Delk asks, bordering incredulous and a little pissed off.

"Which means that I've had this case for less than eight hours and I'm already farther along than you or the FBI after two years."

Chief Delk adjusts himself in his seat but Chief Pope interjects. "To be fair, you did have the benefit of new fingerprints."

"Not that the L.A.F.D. didn't jeopardize that," she mutters.

"I'd be curious how much farther you'll get in the next three hours," Delk says, a hand on his chin and looking strangely serene.

"Three hours?" She looks at Pope, who won't meet her eye.

"Because that's how long the FBI has agreed to share their material before they take over their case; that's what's been arranged."

"Excuse me? I did not agree to that!"

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not taking orders from you," Delk snipes.

"Yeah, believe it or not, I'm actually in charge here. At least, for the next few days. And since this case seems to be more serious than we first imagined, Chief Johnson, I'm sure you would like the FBI to have the benefit of your analysis?"

Neither Brenda or Chief Delk speak. "And I would like the two of you to work together. Amicably. You'll inform the FBI about Kevin Mason, and we will proceed as arranged with Chief Delk present while Major Crimes examines the files and then in three hours, it's the FBIs case. Is that clear to everyone?"

"Sir," Delk nods.

"Yes," Brenda says.

"Thank you."

Brenda and Tommy Delk - she still has yet to come to terms with that, really, what grown man professionally calls himself Tommy - have been reviewing the evidence since they returned to her conference room. Mostly in silence. She's still pissed about how Will ambushed the both of them. She doesn't like Delk's attitude. She doesn't like that she can't text Captain Raydor and ask for advice because dammit she's a big girl capable of interdepartmental diplomacy with more than one department!

"Now you said when the small explosive ignited in front of the I.R.S. Building, responding firemen came from a nearby station?" Brenda asks almost offhandedly, holding pictures of the explosive.

Delk lays out a map of the area and points out the fire station that responded. "Firehouse number 59. It's right there."

Brenda looked down, and scoffed incredulously. "That's not nearby - that's practically across the street!"

Delk gives her a strange look. "Which is why it was put out so quickly."

"And this happened at six-thirty-three-am?" She starts rifling through papers, and then stands there with her hands on her hips.

"Yes?"

Brenda removes her glasses. "Okay. So, let's review the facts here, from my understandin'. The FBI thinks some guy is smart enough to build a bomb with untraceable parts, but sloppy enough to leave it across the street from a firehouse?"

"... Maybe he didn't notice?" Delk suggests slowly.

"I'm beginning to think this guy notices everything," she says. Delk's face falls. "All L.A.F.D. stations change shifts at six-thirty am. Thirty firefighters; two full crews could have responded to that first explosive."

"Woah. Well, wait," Delk starts, coming around to face her fully, "are you suggesting that whoever left the truck wasn't aiming at the I.R.S.?"

"No. No, it wasn't," she says, encouraged by his understanding. "A-And I don't believe that the small explosion was a detonator for a larger bomb - I think it was bait to attract first responders."

Delk sank heavily into a chair. "So you think… The failed cellphone was the primary, not the backup."

"This person was looking to kill as many firemen as possible," Brenda says.

"Assuming that Kevin Mason engineered the first September 24th attack, why would he resurface only to kill two firemen, when he previously aimed to kill dozens?"

Brenda frowns. "Maybe… Maybe shooting Silva and Vargas was the inciting incident, this time. The smaller explosion leading to a larger one."

There's a knock on the door and then Fritz enters, followed by two FBI Agents.

"Brenda," he greets informally, irritating her a little bit. He straightens a bit when he notices Delk, and nods at him. "Chief Delk. Good to see you both."

"And to you, Agent Howard," she replies, a hand firmly on the box of files she's supposed to be handing over.

"As previously agreed, our people are here to take this investigation off your hands," Fritz says.

"Well, as it so happens, Chief Delk and I have made a breakthrough with the case and we both think-"

Delk interrupted, "-That we should keep our arrangement with the FBI and our end of the bargain."

Brenda's mouth just about dropped open. Did she just watch this man basically give everything to the FBI? She could have gotten them out of that! She just needed a little time! I bet him and Sharon get along real well, she thinks spitefully. With a rulebook stuck up his-

"Your files," he says, and she could've fallen to the floor in exasperation.

Fritz looks far too smug about someone from her own building being so willing to roll on her like that and she wants to… what she wants to do is stomp her feet and kick things but she knows that isn't an option.

"There were bullet casings," Fritz says, but it's more a question than a statement.

"NIBINS got them," Delk replies, and oh if she couldn't have strangled him herself. "It takes six hours for every year they go back. As soon as they record a hit, I'll forward the findings."

"Thank you," Fritz smiles at Delk, nods at Brenda and makes a call me gesture as he turns, and the FBI carries away their casefiles on Kevin Mason and leaves Chief Delk alone with Brenda Leigh Johnson.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, Chief, I thought we were on the same page," she remarked sarcastically when the door shut.

Delk sighed. "For two years, the FBI has been investigating a federal attack on an I.R.S. building. Even if you were right and Mason was aiming at the firemen; they'd be too embarrassed to admit they were on the wrong track for so long."

Brenda scoffed. "So what, we just give the case back to 'em?"

"You couldn't have said anything to change what just happened," Delk reasons. "But now, the FBI can do what they do best," Brenda looks at him questioningly. He looks at her, "Find the missing fugitive. While we use the resources of our combined divisions to investigate your crazy idea that the murdered paramedics were just the first casualties of a larger…" he walks around to the glass, watching the FBI leave. "Assault."

The reality of what was happening here was beginning to dawn on her. "So… you... don't want to tell the FBI that Mason was aiming for the fire department?"

"It's an untested hypothesis," Delk shakes his head. "We wouldn't want to confuse them. We wouldn't want to send the FBI on a, say, wild goose chase?" He looks at her expectantly.

"Oh, no, no no. We wouldn't. Not at all," she smirks. Maybe Tommy Delk and I will get along more than I anticipated.

"There's a standard set of questions we ask all applicants and the inappropriateness of Mr. Mason's responses was immediately apparent," the therapist they brought in starts.

Chief Delk tilted his head. "Can you be more specific?"

The therapist pursed his lips. "When I ask someone, 'what's your idea of the perfect day?' Most people say, 'going to the beach with a loved one' or something like that."

"And Mr. Mason's perfect day?" Brenda asked.

"It involved discovering a threat to a local suspension bridge; him showing up and saving thousands of lives," the therapist replies. Brenda and Chief Delk blink. "My diagnosis, without having him as a clinical patient, would be narcissistic tendencies. There's numerous criteria that Mason fits, like excessive feelings of entitlement or fantasies of power. I was just one object in a system he felt was stacked against him because, get this, he's white. Mr. Mason was convinced that's why he was repeatedly rejected by the fire department."

"And how do you handle someone like this?"

"Carefully. This is someone who doesn't believe he makes mistakes. So, whatever you think he might do? Think bigger."

Brenda and Delk share a look.

Tao is waiting for them once they step out of the interview. "Chief, I just did an internet search and September 24th is the day in 1965 when President Johnson," he grinned in that goofy, charming way all of her boys could and just melted her stress right away, "signed his executive order directing government contractors to enforce affirmative action."

Brenda murmured, "September 24th… Affirmative Action Day."

"So Mr. Mason is a man with a gripe," Delk says, unhelpfully.

"Chief, we got a hit on the casings," Gabriel points to Sanchez.

"Fourteen years ago, Mr. Russel Owens of Sherman Oaks took a shot at an intruder with his .45," Sanchez reports to Brenda.

"And where's Mr. Owens today?"

"Well, he was seventy-one years old then, Chief, we don't even know if he's still alive. Neighbors said he was kind of a grouch. Moved away maybe ten years ago."

Flynn says, "if Owens collects social security we can find where he's getting his checks."

"Good idea," she says dismissively, turning to Delk, on the phone. "Umm, excuse me, who are you callin'?"

"We have to let the FBI know about the casings," he replies.

Brenda smirked. "I happen to know the FBI is asleep right now, and there's no point in calling until we verify this — remember, we don't wanna send them on a wild goose chase?"

Delk points at her and nods, and then closes his phone in a hurry to end the call. Brenda takes off down the hallway.

You Have (1) New Message

Captain Raydor

Captain Raydor: Now I know what you meant by crazy roll out. Hope you've gotten some sleep.

Brenda rolled her eyes. Always texting her during work. She didn't mind though - anything to distract her from Delk.

B: Here and there. Are you going to the memorial?

Captain Raydor: Yes.

She worried her lip between her teeth.

Her desk phone rang at that moment. "Lieutenant Flynn?"

"Chief, we're at the Assisted Living Center and we found Russel Owens. He's dead. You'll never guess who the attendant taking care of him was."

"Kevin Mason," Brenda correctly guesses. "Did you find 'im? Did you make an arrest?"

"No, no, not yet," Brenda shakes her head to Delk, who had looked up in interest. "But we have a recent I.D photo of him. Oh, hold on."

Provenza's voice comes through the phone now. "Chief, yeah, I've got an M1911 colt .45 semi-automatic. Pretty sure it was used to shoot the paramedics."

She hears someone say something in the background. "Uh… Tao says he has… he's got… he's got some… he's got cholera… or what you'd say?" Brenda jerks back from the phone to look at it and wonders, briefly, if this case has made her Detective's lose their minds. She hears hold on, hold on, and then Tao's voice is coming through the phone.

"Chief? Chief, I found about twenty bottles of oxybutynin, it's a bladder control medication."

"And that's important because…?"

"In higher doses, the side effects of oxybutynin are increased heart rate, depressed respiration, dilated pupils…"

"All the symptoms Mason had when our victims picked him up," Brenda realized. "Why would he need twenty bottles of oxy-whatever to fool the paramedics?"

Tao hummed on the other line, still on speaker. "I don't know, but it looks like he stole a bottle from every patient in the place. And you know what… It looks like a few oxygen tanks are missing too."

Brenda blinks. "Wait a minute. Is Kevin Mason there, or not?"

"Chief, Bob Gills aka Kevin Mason clocked out two hours ago," Flynn spoke into the phone.

"Yeah, Chief," there's shuffling sounds as Gabriel is passed Flynn's phone, "Mason has access to a van that's currently missing."

"Okay, scan and release his I.D, run the plates on the vehicle he stole. He's up to somethin'," she muttered the last part, rubbing her forehead.

It wasn't Gabriel who replied now. "I'm sorry Chief, but the Nurses are wondering when we're going to be done with Mr. Owen's body. I guess they're already thinking about his funeral."

Brenda stopped and had a horrible, gut wrenching realization. "His funeral…" she pulled the phone away from her ear. "The memorial for the paramedics, when is it?" She asks Delk.

He checks his watch. "About four hours from now. Why?"

"That's the bigger event," she closed her eyes as she felt herself get nauseous. "He killed the paramedics in order to bomb their funeral."

Right before Delk and her go down to tell Will what they think, she sends Sharon one more text.

B: Don't.

Sharon doesn't come find her until she's finished interviewing all of the squad who saw it happen. And then she's stalking down the hall into her office, a file in her hand. Brenda is sitting at her desk, but she's not really looking at or doing anything. She keeps replaying the events of the afternoon in her mind over and over again. She wouldn't change it, she wouldn't.

She stands, clearing her throat at Captain Raydor. "Um… Sorry, it's a bit of a mess."

"God, Brenda," Sharon whispered hoarsely, a hand over her mouth. She pulled the other woman into a hug, wrapping her hand into her hair and one around her waist.

Brenda stiffened at first, but relaxed into it, wrapping her arms around Sharon's torso and pressing her hands against her back and shoulder blades.

"I—"

"Why didn't you let someone else take the shot?"

Brenda replied, "I did what I needed to do—"

"Bullshit. You can give everyone else that, but don't… don't."

"Sharon—"

"You sabotaged your candidacy," Sharon whispers, "and you risked your life for it."

"He had sarin gas," Brenda enunciates exasperatedly, "sar-in gas. I didn't care about my candidacy, I cared about getting him off the streets."

And there was a quieter part of her that did sabotage her candidacy, yes, but she also didn't like when her squad had to discharge their weapons.

Brenda remembers every person she's killed. Knows they remember each of their own, too. It doesn't leave you.

She tried as often as possible to be the "officer involved", in an officer involved shooting so that her squad didn't have to. She would never say this out loud. A secret between her and God.

"You could have let anyone else take the shot. You know they could have," Sharon's voice breaks. She slams a file down on the messy desk. "Do you want to know what that is?"

"What is it?" Brenda asks needlessly. They both know what it is, or at least, Brenda suspects.

"This is a file, with the appropriate parts redacted, of the transcripts of my interviews with every single member of your squad who was at this incident, who all indicated that someone else could have taken the shot - and that you chose to!"

Brenda just stands there now, seemingly lifeless. "What do you want me to say, Sharon? I'm sorry I killed the man who was going to kill us with poison gas?"

Sharon shakes her head. "You are so… and it's hard to be mad at you because God you almost died tonight."

Sharon steps closer again and threads her fingers through Brenda's hair, and tips her chin up with the other. Brenda doesn't resist. In fact, her cheeks darken, her tongue darts out to wet her lips, which are slightly parted.

She wants this too, they both thought. Their eyes met at the same time, wide with realizing mutual attraction.

They both leaned in, lips meeting in a soft but intense kiss, fueled by passion and build up. Brenda's hands moved slowly up and down Sharon's back while they kissed, and when their tongues met she moaned.

That was when Sharon broke the kiss, breathing heavily, glasses fogged and askew. "I…I have to go."

"Sharon?"

Sharon practically snatched her file from the desk and made a retreat. "I'll send Sergeant Elliot up to take your statement about the shooting," she blurts out over her shoulder, her lips still kiss-red and swollen, and her lipstick no doubt smudged.

She held a hand over her mouth as she exited the office and muttered "goodnight, Brenda," as she fled the confused woman's office. Brenda touched her lips, trying to figure out if the last few minutes just happened.

Sharon trembled on her way down the elevator. Oh my God. I kissed her.

While she was calming down, putting her key in her ignition, she thought, she kissed me back.

She pushed Brenda and her lips and the apparent gloss she wears over her lipstick - it tasted like peaches and Sharon tries to forget the hint of it still in her mouth - and the way she felt under her hands far out of her mind and then completely forgot about her for the drive home. Spent so much time happy she wasn't thinking about her that she realized—

Shit, she dropped her head on her head rest after she parked and took the key out of the ignition. That is thinking about her.

She felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and knew who it would be. Sharon sighed deeply before exiting the car and going inside, ignoring the buzzing.

chapter title from my mistake by nico collins