"I wish I wrote the way I thought;
Obsessively,
Incessantly,
With maddening hunger.
I'd write to the point of suffocation.
I'd write myself into nervous breakdowns,
Manuscripts spiraling out like tentacles into abysmal nothing.
And I'd write about you a lot more
than I should." — Benedict Smith, I Wish I Wrote The Way I thought
Brenda thought it would get easier to function once they got it out of their systems the first time. But if anything, all she thought about was Sharon now. Her hands. Her perfume. She began wearing clothes wondering if Sharon would happen to see her on the elevator or come to her floor by chance. She found herself considering options and wondering if Sharon would like them. The boys thought she was just getting her second wind, coming into herself.
But if she was, it was Sharon. Sharon was her second wind, the means of which she used to drive and inspire herself. She tries not to think about what that means too deeply.
Mama and Daddy were coming for Christmas, so she had to get her head on straight. That's ironic, she thinks, looking at Christmas gifts for Fritz. Without thinking much about it, she wandered from cologne to perfume, finding scents that reminded her of Sharon, and that's when she gave up, went back to colognes and chose the first one that even vaguely reminded her of Fritz, and went home.
She had to get Sharon out of her head for at least until after Christmas.
(New Years and on… they'll see.)
Everything was so festive this time of year, but the temperature barely changes here except for at night. It always threw her off - as it was, Christmas was barely anything more than an obligation at this point in her life. Something lauded over her head by her parents, and Fritz.
It wasn't that she didn't want to celebrate it at all. She did - she's always loved Christmas. It was just that she didn't appreciate now that she was an adult, having her shortcomings held in front of her or being made to feel like it's her fault when a case comes up right before or on the holidays and gets passed off to her squad - she's Deputy Chief of Major Crimes. What about 'Major' did they not get?
It was just easier not to care about Christmas at all; to not get her hopes up, to not be moved by the festive lights and colors and idea of coming together. She's become quite neutral to it, now, after years of curbing her disappointment, so as not to be when inevitably her feelings are hurt.
And thoughts about what Captain Raydor did for Christmas were a dangerous road, too domestic for what they were, but something in her stomach wanted to know. She just bets Sharon goes all out. That her home is warm, and inviting, and decorated in red-and-green. With gold-blue-and-silver.
Ironically, it's the day before Christmas Eve that Major Crimes and F.I.D. get called into the office. Fritz complains at her all the way out the door; about leaving him to probably meet her parents upon arrival again, about Pope and about how 'unfairly he's assigning cases' - without regarding her own feelings on it, or accounting for his own jealousy - and about her caring more about work than him or her family.
Brenda wants to snap at him. She wants to tear into him, ask if he even likes her parents all that much - she knows he doesn't, that the Southern charm wore off a while ago, but really, they aren't here much anyway - and tell him to shut his mouth and mind his business. She loves her family, she does.
What she can't understand is how all these people claim to love her so much but can't see her. How anyone could claim to love her and not know her. There just isn't enough time in the world for her to get justice for the dead and spend time with the living sometimes, and it's a shame.
Fritz's biting voice rings in her head all the way to the office and doesn't stop, not even while she's on the phone hearing the rundown about the situation on her way there. She doesn't even have time to prepare herself for seeing Sharon again.
Fritz always fights with her about this near and during the holidays; her selfishness and how he thought she'd change. She thought he knew who he married. They were both wrong.
All she knew is she felt like she was quickly drowning with no land in sight and work was a welcome distraction for her as opposed to her coworkers, who all had plans to get to; things and people they all desperately wanted to spend time with, that wanted to spend time with them.
Her and Sharon are a little bit on edge when they stand beside the body inside the morgue, Detective Sanchez and Sergeant Detective Gabriel looking a little more than uncomfortable.
Brenda's immediately a little drawn to how Sharon's outfit moves with how she puts her hands on her hips, and she tries not to be obvious about it, averting her eyes to the wall.
"What a shame, two grown men getting into a knife fight in front of holiday shoppers and handing you an attempted murder case the day before Christmas—"
"Oh, Captain, the attempted part is over," Brenda smiles, but it's all teeth. It's meant to say please back off, but Sharon is far too well versed in workplace political mechanisms for that to work on her. "The intended victim is getting medical treatment for the wound on his hand and the would-be killer is…" she gestures to the covered man on the gurney, "dead, hit by a patrol car, which makes this use of force investigation—"
Sharon interrupts her, " —the patrol car was city property which make it a Major Crime—"
"City property? They were driving way too fast! Major Crime? When pigs fly!"
"They were responding to a 911 call!—"
"Excuse me! Excuse me," Gabriel says, hands out warily, and both women turn to look at him sharply. "Maybe we could call this a… traffic… accident?"
Captain Raydor just grumbles, "No, that leaves us wide open to a lawsuit from the victims family."
Detective Sanchez pipes up from behind Raydor, "We don't even know if he has a family - no wallet and no ID were found."
"Look - Captain Raydor, my entire division has holiday plans and my parents are visiting for Christmas," Brenda pouts, hoping it'll move Sharon in some way, but the other woman doesn't budge.
"Chief, I sympathize," her eyes are soft, for a brief moment, but her stance doesn't waver, and not unreasonably. "But I'm leaving tomorrow to be with my parents and my kids in Park City - and my Dad is not feeling well, and this very well might be his last Christmas."
"… I'm sure we can wrap this up by tonight," Brenda says, on the edge of a promise. "Detective Sanchez, find Doctor Morales, please, wherever he might be?" Detective Sanchez nods and practically bolts from the room. "And you get the dash cam from the patrol car, and interview the officers—"
"—And I'll get the guy who was attacked in an interview room right away," Gabriel decides, leaving the room practically at a jog as well.
"And we'll take his statement together," Brenda says to Sharon, who looks at her with a pinched expression that turns into something understanding.
They've never done this well, playing in the sandbox nicely, but she can do it. She wants Sharon to make her holiday plans, contrary to what everyone else may think. She's trying, and she hopes that counts for something.
They smile at each other - privately, tentatively, and if Brenda softly brushes her hand down Sharon's arm as she turns around to leave, then it's between them.
And if Sharon watches her go with more fondness than she'll admit to, then that's for Sharon to know.
Once Mr. Marku excuses himself, Brenda leaves the interview room to greet Gabriel, Sharon a few steps behind her, both wondering what the holy hell they just unwrapped for themselves.
"So, how'd it go?"
"The assailant turned out to be the victims father-" Gabriel tried to curb his own exasperation, but failed to not release a noise under his breath while Brenda relayed the information. "-his name was Shariq Marku - let's find out where he lived and if he has any relatives, please and thank you."
"So this is a Major Crimes case then?"
Brenda purses her lips.
"I'm just asking because my parents are taking me to Italy for Christmas, and we're supposed to leave tomorrow night," he pauses, and then he emphasizes with his hands for good measure, "Italy. Italia."
Sharon sidles up to them, squinting at her phone and clearly displeased. "The airline wants seven hundred dollars to change my ticket—"
Brenda throws her hands up. "You know what? Let's go ask Chief Pope! Let him decide who's case this is."
David and Sharon sputter as she takes off down the hall, but ultimately neither argue with her. "The faster you make that notification the better for everyone," she reminds David, and he scoffs but goes back to the Murder Room.
Detective Sanchez comes out of the Murder Room at a brisk pace the same time David goes in at one, now wearing a festive green elf hat, joining the two department heads as they travel down the hall.
Captain Raydor does a double take behind the both of them Brenda fights to keep her expression neutral. Well, I guess that's what we're doing now.
"Excuse me Chief, here's a summary of the witness statements, they all say the same thing; the old man was trying to stab a Christmas shopper when the police ran him over."
He hands her the file and puts his hands behind his back. She feels a flash of affection for him as she always does, that love that spreads throughout her tiny heart - the one she thinks is only about 'this' big. Sometimes she still believes that Fritz is the only one who can love a heart like that - and sometimes she thinks no one, not even Fritz, can.
"Thank you, Detective Sanchez. Nice hat. See, I told you, this won't take longer than seventy-two hours," Brenda opened and glanced at the file before handing it back to her Detective and taking off down the hallway again.
"Also, your parents are in the Murder Room," Detective Sanchez blurts to her retreating back.
If she had cartoon sound effects, she would've stopped on her breaks, dust kicking up all around her. "What? They are?" Her direction changed back down the hallway at a speed walk.
"Chief, wait!" Sharon calls after her, panicked, but it's no use. Brenda is a woman on a mission, and news of her parents in the Murder Room - or in the vicinity - is certainly not news she wants to hear.
"Hey, less yakkin, more wrappin'!"
Oh goodness, what has she done? Brenda thinks of her mother as she turns the door handle.
Turned her Murder Room into a wrapping station and employed her Detective's as elves, that's what. She looks to her right and does a double take. Does that say…
"Mama! Daddy!" She hugs her mother tightly, followed by her father.
"Brenda Leigh!"
"Oh Daddy, I'm sorry I wasn't able to meet you when y'all got in when you first got into town, you traveled all this way—"
"Catch your breath, catch your breath honey, we're not anxious at all are we?" Clay looks at his wife with a smile that can't mean anything good, but truthfully she's so put off by their mere presence so soon that she can't catch a break to put more thought into it.
Sharon followed in behind her, slowing her pace as she came up on the Johnson's, taking in the alien landscape that the normally sedate office became with barely any time in Brenda's parents' presence. Elf Dept? Tao in a Christmas Beanie? Is that Commander Taylor?
When Sharon had briefly wondered who and where Brenda had hatched from, she didn't and couldn't have ever imagined this. How did these people make… Brenda Leigh Johnson? Sharon avoided her eyes from Brenda's mothers vest upon realizing it was covered in snowmen. It wasn't hideous, she forced herself to think, just… a little gaudy.
"No, everybody has made us feel right at home like always," her mother replied, still smiling at Brenda like she had a secret, and now Sharon was beginning to get the strangely ominous feeling that Brenda was about to be blindsided very soon.
She briefly noted the way Agent Howard stood like a shadow behind Chief Johnson's parents, neither with them or apart from them, but clearly not happy.
"I just wish we could all watch Lieutenant Provenza put on his Santa Suit and give these toys to the needy children!"
Sharon makes sure her jaw doesn't run away from her. I have to be dreaming.
Regardless, they need to get to Chief Pope's office and sort this. Sharon clear's her throat. "Um, Chief Johnson…"
"Oh, um, I'm sorry," she looks apologetically at Sharon, and then turns back to her can't leave without introducing Sharon; it would be rude. "Mama, Daddy, this is my— er…Captain Raydor."
Fritz, Captain Raydor, and her parents all stare back at her. Confusion etched on their faces, a little bit of mortification in Sharon's eyes, a tiny bit of suspicion in Fritz's, and Brenda forces her brain to kickstart again and give her mouth something to work with. She almost wishes she hadn't introduced her and endured her Mama's ribbing about her manners when she introduced them later, on steadier ground.
Before something else could happen; like god forbid Fritz got a hold of his wits and opened his mouth with, "your Captain Raydor?", Brenda stutters out,
"I-I mean, my friend, Captain Sharon—"
Behind Fritz and her parents, Taylor and Flynn now each individually look up and make faces at her fumbling. Buzz and Tao pause in their gift wrapping and look over questioningly, too. They all knew that the two of them had become friendlier in the past couple of months, certainly, perhaps over the last year, even, but friends? None of them thought so, on the professional side of things. If she didn't get a handle on this soon it would be very, very ugly.
Brenda regains herself and states, "I mean, Mama, Daddy, this is my friend, Sharon Raydor."
There's a moment of silence before her Daddy steps forward and grabs Sharon's hand. The expression on her face is somewhere between complete horror and help me save me what do I do.
"Friend? We've been waitin' to meet one of Brenda Leigh's friends since she graduated high school!"
She practically shrieks, "Daddy!" It was followed by a mumbled, "I'm friends with my squad, too…"
Sharon recovers herself and shakes her dad's hand, nodding enthusiastically with each word. "Well, here I am!"
"Excuse me," Willie-Rae says, "Wait a minute Clay; Brenda Leigh, did you say Captain?"
Sharon nodded with a smile she hoped didn't look superficially fake, but damn Brenda for putting her on the spot like this. "Yes, that's right Mrs. Johnson."
"You hear that, Clay? Her friend works here," Mama said, also coming to greet Sharon with Clay the way they greet everyone - a vigorous handshake and a hug. "Please call me Willie Rae. Brenda's friends are my friends, too."
"Okay," Sharon smiled.
Brenda wrapped up her introductions, "Sharon, this is Clay and Willie Rae Johnson; my parents."
Fritz placed a hand on each of his in-laws' shoulders as they moved back to stand in front of him. "Your parents have something to tell you, Brenda Leigh," nearly everyone - the squad, Captain Raydor and even Brenda herself - had to school their expressions at the emphasis. He never called her Brenda Leigh; it was very unusual indeed, and sounded rather mocking… or menacing in this case. "Very exciting news."
"Is that right? What is it?"
A door behind them opens and shuts, Gabriel re-entering the Murder Room. "Excuse me! I found the father's place. It's just west of here, who do you want to send with me?"
Brenda smirks. "Lieutenant Provenza, can you spare an elf?"
Provenza and Tao say in unison, "Flynn!"
"What? Why me?" Flynn asked innocently, with a piece of tape as long as his arm pulled taut in the air and Buzz looking in despair at the disastrous present he was helping him wrap.
Before Brenda can reply, Buzz says, "You're better at your real job!"
"Oh yeah, here!" Flynn wraps the tape around, to Buzz's dismay.
Brenda talks around their bickering. "Make sure to look for a suicide note or anything that shows intent to stab his son to death."
Wille Rae's expression pinches up unhappily and Fritz places comforting hands on her shoulders.
"Hey Chief! I emailed the witness statements to Chief Pope," Sanchez calls from his desk.
"Oh, thank you!" Brenda replies. Sharon nods encouragingly at Brenda, who turns to her parents apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mama, Daddy, Captain Raydor and I need to- I mean Sharon and I need to-"
"It's alright, little girl. You are your… friend, run along and do your job," Clay replies.
"... Y'all aren't irritated?" Brenda asks, pleasantly surprised.
"No, no no," her Mama says, her and her Daddy's smiles unsettlingly huge, "we're gonna have all the time in the world to catch up, honey."
"All the time in the world," Fritz repeated ominously behind them.
Brenda was trying to solve the puzzle being handed to her when Sharon cleared her throat from the door. With both Fritz's and her Mama's words permanently stuck in her head now, they left for Chief Pope's office.
As soon as they were far enough down the hallway, Sharon hissed, "what the hell was that?"
Brenda colored all over, and tears sprang to her eyes. She lowered her voice. "I don't know, I don't know! I didn't expect them to be there, and I always get all flustered with my parents around!"
"The CIA trained interrogator can't come up with a lie in front of her parents…" Sharon mutters half to herself. "The irony. And my luck."
Brenda thought, oh, if only she knew how much I lie to them about, and took a deep breath before replying.
"I wanted to introduce you as my friend but figured it might be better to just introduce you as Captain Raydor and it all got jumbled. I can't think straight right now, I'm just trying to make sure everyone makes their plans, and now my parents are here and-"
Sharon pulled Brenda aside into a corner where the cameras couldn't see. "Brenda. Take a deep breath."
Brenda forced heaving, shuddering breaths in and out, suddenly on the verge of an anxiety attack. Her vision was tunneled and slowly clearing, the only thing grounding her being Sharon holding her hands gently in her own.
"I'm sorry," is the first thing she says. "I haven't… that hasn't happened in a long time."
"I think it could be said that Southern parents micromanage to the point that some develop anxiety," Sharon replies wisely, her voice quiet. "If this hasn't happened in a long time, I'd say that can be triggered - and you already explained they make you 'flustered'. Now, no one knows anything, okay? We haven't gotten along in the office which is good for us in this case."
She takes another steadying breath and nods wordlessly, curls moving over her shoulders. "You're right; you're always right. I'm sorry, again, for the-"
"It's alright, and I'm sorry I snapped at you," Sharon says earnestly. "I shouldn't have."
"No worries, Sharon," Brenda smiles. "Now, let's hope that our Pope is in a good mood to dole out blessings this holiday season, hm?"
"There was a murder attempt in progress and our heroic officers intervened. Where's the problem?"
Pope was not at all caring about Sharon's plight to get out as soon as possible. It kind of infuriated Brenda how dismissive he was, but she couldn't afford to make an enemy out of him, so she just huffed and nodded along.
Brenda hated how nearsighted Will could be sometimes. She wished she could yank the stick out of his ass but unfortunately since Estelle it's been there nearly permanently. Well, every other weekend and every other holiday, anyway.
"If we call it a use of force, it'll go on our end of year stats, and Chief Delk won't like that," Sharon emphasizes.
"Chief Delk left this morning on vacation, you're speaking with acting Chief Pope and neither of us wants Major Crimes racking up Christmas pay when F.I.D. could handle this with one or two people… Don't make a big deal out of it."
Though she had an enormously hard time not rolling her eyes, she's lived through a long time of his ego. Sharon however doesn't even bother, and she doesn't have to turn to know that, she can just feel that she rolled her eyes at his turned back. That was harder to not giggle at, but Brenda managed to keep a straight face.
"And I'm sure Chief Johnson will help you as much as she can." Will added expectantly, expecting cooperation.
Brenda nodded. "I will, I will!"
Sharon sighed, looking down at her phone. "Okay, fine. I'll be cataloging 911 tapes right after I disappoint my children and my sick father with the news of my delayed departure," she says the last part pointedly before stepping out.
"Sorry you have to work the holidays," Brenda says.
"My kids are with their Mother, anyway, so what do I care?" Pope shrugs.
Well, explains the stick up his ass about F.I.D. then, Brenda thinks.
"And it's only temporary until Chief Delk gets back… at which point he'll finish with his reorganization and fire me!"
"You don't know that," Brenda replies, her heart racing at the idea. If Delk fired Pope, she already knows who he wants to put in his place. She needs him there. "And for now, you get to be acting Chief."
"Yeah, living the dream," he quips dryly. "Would you just please make sure that Captain Raydor gets the hell out of town in the spirit of the season and all?"
"Lieutenant Tao, would you help Captain Raydor collate those 911 calls?"
"Sure thing, Chief," he replies, his expression wavering. "Um, we are going to finish tonight, right? Because the condo I rented in Maui is… non-refundable."
"Yes, don't worry, Lieutenant Tao, I want to make sure-," she steps forward only to step on tape, and pulls it off, "I want to make sure everyone makes their travel plans."
Fritz steps out of her office. "Brenda, remember - parents? Big surprise? You are gonna want to hear it."
Brenda takes a deep breath and turns to her colleagues. No rest for the wicked. "My parents always give me something special for Christmas…"
"Anyone know what's going on with her?" Tao asked the people left in the room.
Buzz and Sanchez shrugged.
"Weird. Very weird," he shook his head.
They're waiting for her with Fritz in her office when she enters. "You didn't steal our thunder, did you, son?"
"No, sir, absolutely not," Fritz replies. Brenda knows him well enough by now that he is not pleased by whatever this news is going to be.
"I'm… I'm so excited, what could it be?"
"We know how much your work means to you, dear, and how hard it is for you to get away to Atlanta. So, your Daddy and I were thinkin', since none of us is gettin' any younger-"
"We're movin' to LA!"
Her Mama half-heartedly swats at him for jumping the gun. "Clay!"
"You're what?"
"They're moving here, they're looking for a house in our neighborhood, isn't that exciting?"
"I can't believe it! I-Is that true?"
"So true," Fritz says, sounding like he's in agony.
"We're keeping the house in Atlanta, you know, for memories. But we've talked to a realtor here, and with the economy the way it is, the prices are not getting any lower-"
Brenda's phone starts going off right then, and she puts up a finger to pause him, rifling through her purse frantically, thinking that if there's a God then He's finally come through for her in her time of need. "Oh Daddy I'm so sorry, just one second, that's great news, and I want to hear all about it, I just need to get this… Deputy Chief Johnson, help me- I mean, how can I help you?"
Flynn pulls his phone away from his ear and looks at it for a moment, wishing he was a fly on the wall in the Chief's general surroundings just to know what prompted her to answer like that, but he returns the phone to his ear and answers, "Chief, we're inside Shariq's apartment, and we think he was pretty angry today."
"Oh, really, what makes you say that?" She moves away to the window for space.
"We found his daughter, Anila Markou, but she ain't talkin'."
Brenda furrowed her brows. "Why not?"
"Because her throat was cut."
Sharon entered the morgue in a rush. "Excuse me, what are you-" she was cut short by the addition of another body and Major Crimes detectives. "You're supposed to be working on my victim." God help them if Major Crimes picked up another case on the day before Christmas Eve.
Gabriel replies, "this is his daughter."
"You're kidding," Sharon mutters, looking at the two.
Brenda gestures, "Meet Anila Markou; it seems her father was intent on killing all his children today. So now I'll be investigating your victim for murder, and you can leave."
Sharon waved a hand, leaning on one hip. "I already paid to change my ticket."
"Oh, I don't have a ticket, because I'm driving to Palm Springs for Christmas. I appreciate you special requesting me all the time, Chief, but I'm resigned to missing you for a week, starting tomorrow." Morales interrupts, coming around the table.
"I understand, Doctor, but there's a child involved here, and we have to find out who killed his mother."
"God, that's terrible. In fact, it's stories just like that that I'm going to be completely forgetting in Palm Springs. So, this man got mowed over by the police car? Sitting right next to his spinal column was an old bullet."
"How old?" Brenda asked.
"Hard to say… several years, at least."
"Can you dig it out for us?" Sharon asks next.
"Are you planning on having him delivered poolside?"
Brenda sighed. "Doctor, I need to know the origin of that bullet."
"Where are these people from?" Morales asks.
"Kosovo?"
"Then it's probably from there," Sharon and Brenda share exasperated looks. "I mean, it's a troubled part of the world. Take this poor woman for example. Having her jugular cut was not great, but a lot less traumatic than her past."
Brenda feels her stomach begin to turn at that. She knows the things that instability, war, and foreign government operations can do to places and their people. Her time in Europe exposed her to the remnants of war and trauma, and in some cases the very real, ongoing creation of it. The road to destabilization; handing people over who sometimes their only crime really was breaking unjust laws.
So when Morales pulls up the sheet to reveal the extensive sexual assault and trauma to Anila Markou, she feels herself retreat to behind that wall she made for herself. To feel the disgust, the anger, the pain of the case later, and simply observe now.
"These burns? It looks like torture to me," Brenda feels Sharon looking over her shoulder, and she wants to tell her maybe she shouldn't, that they're always the same, that Sharon has never done well with their rape cases or their assault cases, but she doesn't. Just looks on with the same cool clarity she always falls into. "Maybe a heated knife blade? And that distension there? Too long to say, but probable rape? Horribly cruel."
She feels rather than sees Sharon's reactions, the flinching and the sharp inhales and exhales.
"I assume you want DNA on both of them?" Morales asks Brenda.
Sharon answers, "Yes, two samples off each person, please-"
Brenda's phone starts going off and she sighs, tiredly excusing herself to the side. "Yes, Commander, what is it?"
Brenda just wanted to get home and eat dinner and spend time with her parents. This day had worn on her… the day before Christmas Eve and so much blood. She's rubbing her temple with two fingers, trying to stave off a migraine when there's two knocks on her door.
Whoever was knocking wasn't actually asking, because they entered anyway. But Brenda looked up to see Sharon closing the door behind her.
"Hey," she says, surprised. She thought she went home hours ago.
Brenda's been here, settling things with the boy for the night and hopefully they'll bring him home tomorrow. She just hasn't gone home yet because… she's honestly so tired she doesn't want to get up from her chair right now. Tomorrow the case will close with the kid going home with his uncle, and everyone will get to their intended destinations.
She hopes.
Sharon leans against the door, one hand in her suit pocket and the other dangling. Brenda bites her lip, feeling a shiver overcome her. Christ.
"I did… and then one of your employees informed me that your husband was calling them, asking where you were."
"Ah," Brenda chuckles, leaning back and stretching languidly, but her back cracks and her shoulders pop. "Here to round me up?"
"No," Sharon replies, going a little pink. Sharon? Embarrassed? "Here to indulge you, if you really want to avoid going home."
She holds up a bag she had been hiding behind her legs in her dangling hand, which seems to contain… a variety of things.
Brenda's eyes sparkle. "Well, what are you waiting for, Captain? Bring it here!"
Sharon placed in front of her:
Two Ding-Dongs (one for each of them)
A bottle of sparkling cider
And a neatly wrapped gift with a card.
Brenda flustered. "Sharon, you didn't have to, I—"
"Brenda, it's okay if you didn't—"
Brenda looks away, and then stands up, opening the cabinet behind her desk. Inside it is the gift she had picked out for Sharon while Christmas shopping weeks before.
She turns back and extends it towards her. "I know we won't have any other time to do this, so… Merry Christmas, Sharon Raydor."
Sharon suddenly looked like she had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling when she murmured, "Merry Christmas, Brenda Leigh Johnson."
Brenda wrinkled her nose. "It's weird when y'all say my last name too. Just Brenda Leigh."
"Brenda Leigh," Sharon tried it out, and Brenda shivered. Oh, it's sinful how good that sounded on her tongue.
"Perfect," Brenda replied. "Now, let me get us some cups for the cider and you pour."
"My, Chief Johnson, you're bossy." Sharon teased, a smile on her lips.
"And you have no problem with that," Brenda raised an eyebrow. "Presents later. Ding-Dongs and cider first."
"Are you doing alright?" Sharon asks once they've sat down with their snacks and their cider, reaching out tentatively to place a hand over Brenda's. "With this case, I mean. Right before Christmas…"
Brenda sighed. "There's always hard cases… and Christmas, I mean… It's not like Mama and Daddy haven't been holdin' it over my head every year since I went off to work for the State anyway, and with Fritz guiltin' me I almost want to sleep in the office some years."
Sharon's expression softened into something else entirely, and Brenda takes a drink. "How are you doing? With the case? I know Anila's autopsy report wasn't easy. You never do well with cases like that."
"I didn't know you noticed," Sharon replied, leaning back a bit.
Brenda shrugged, averting her eyes. "It's hard not to, once you've learned how to save the feelings for later. It's hard for you, I noticed it the first time, with Adrianna."
Sharon nods slowly. "I just have such a difficult time… the violence against those who already had what we would call the short stick, and not by their own choice. Adrianna was an immigrant, naturalized, yes; but she still would have had a significantly harder time finding work than someone who was born here. Add that to misogyny she would have had to deal with as a woman, and the needless cruelty and racism… I find myself angry with the system that we ourselves work for that hides and allows people like Agent Meyers to even operate… Yes, those cases are difficult for me. She was a young woman and her life was cut short when she was fighting for a chance in a place that systemically works against her."
Brenda just inclined her head. She's seen a lot during her work experience, so Anila isn't actually all that surprising to her. But she doesn't say that to Sharon. She does, however, internalize and begin to process the things Sharon said and is surprised to find that they think the same way. That the system they work for has begun to wear on them, that they're tired of how people like that slip through and are protected, can hide in it, and be allowed to commit atrocities for so long until they're weeded out, but by then they've done so much damage to those who could not afford it - in some cases, they've taken their lives. Sometimes Brenda wonders how much is too much to the 'Powers That Be' as she refers to them, the Governments, the Big Men In Charge, but she knows that the answer is nothing is too much if it gets them to their end goal. She learned that in the CIA and turned back.
She had turned to the police because she thought she could do some good. She thought that she had been this whole time. But these past few years in LA have opened her up to a host of new perspectives, the grind of her work, the relentless wear and tear, well, wearing and tearing. Sometimes she has to wonder.
"I understand," Brenda finally said after several moments of quiet contemplation. "For a long time I believed turning to police work would make a difference in what I found. But I found just as much, if not more, trauma here. There's just too much. I don't think they get easier. I think you just find one day you break even on your emotional reserves… and give up. Find new ways to do good."
Sharon grabbed on to Brenda's hand tightly and Brenda grabbed hers back. "That's incredibly profound from Miss Atlanta," she smiled a little shyly, but Brenda thought it was the sweetest thing.
"I have my moments," Brenda smiled back. "I would love to stay here all night, but I really do have to get home before my parents move into my house."
"Oh?"
Brenda puts her head on the desk. "My parents are moving to Los Angeles," she mutters into the desk.
"Oh!" Sharon says. "Is… is this good?"
"Yes? No? I don't know," the blonde bemoans, sitting up and sitting back in her chair. She separates their hands to run her hands through her hair. "They just sprung it on me. They want to move into our neighborhood. Fritz ain't happy."
When is Fritz ever happy, Sharon thinks, but doesn't say. "I think we should give each other our gifts so you can get home," she suggests.
"Perfect."
They exchange the gifts and immediately engage in a staring contest for who will open theirs first.
"I'm surprised, Brenda Leigh, you don't seem like the type who can endure a surprise for very long," Sharon teased.
Brenda twitched. "I'm not, so open yours first so I can open mine!"
Sharon laughed. "Bossy," but she did begin opening hers.
Inside was a handcrafted leather journal and a bottle of perfume, alongside a handwritten card from Brenda, who was blushing when Sharon looked up with her mouth open.
"Do you like it? I thought you'd be the type to like journals, and I remembered a friend of mine is a leatherworker back home, and his Mama knows how to sew books—"
"It's sewn in?" Sharon flips through, checking the binding in awe.
"Yeah… so, you like it? It's okay?" Brenda asks nervously.
Sharon stands and walks around the side of the desk, pulling Brenda abruptly from her chair into a hug. "I love it. It's a beautifully personal gift, Brenda. Thank you."
Brenda melted into the embrace. "You're welcome, Sharon. I hope you like the perfume, too. It reminded me of you, I couldn't help myself."
Sharon opens the cap and takes a small whiff. "Oh! It's lovely."
"I'm so glad you like it!" Brenda clapped her hands together happily. "Read the card later. At home. It's long."
Sharon nodded and put it in her purse. "I would say the same for you, but… read it in your car."
Brenda nodded, biting her lip as she carefully unwrapped her present. Sharon is practically sitting on the edge of her seat waiting for her to open it.
A bright pink cashmere sweater with floral designs on it. Brenda gasps with delight when she sees it. "Oh, Sharon, it's beautiful!"
"You really like it—oh, Brenda!"
Sharon once again rushed to the other side of the desk to crush Brenda in a comforting hug while she wiped her - albeit tears of joy - tears away. "Crying means you like it, right?"
Brenda laughed tearily and swatted the other woman jokingly. "I do, I do, it's just… so sweet and thoughtful and I didn't think you liked my floral things… Oh, I just feel like no one gets me sometimes, and then you say or do something and it makes me all… like this!"
Sharon, presses her face into Brenda's neck, risking placing a kiss there. "I like you in anything… but mostly in nothing."
"Oh, Sharon Raydor!" Brenda gasped playfully, "who knew you were such a cad!"
Sharon pulled back and smirked, one of her hands cupped around Brenda's neck. "No one but you knows, now."
Brenda pushed up onto her tippy-toes to kiss her and Sharon pulled her in as deeply as she could. They didn't part for several long moments, until Sharon's glasses were fogged up and both of their lipsticks were messy.
"Goodnight, Brenda Leigh," Sharon murmured, kissing the side of her lips one last time. "And Merry Christmas Eve."
"Goodnight Sharon, and Merry Christmas Eve," Brenda replied softly, watching her leave and wishing, if her parents weren't here for the holiday, somehow, that she and Sharon could spend theirs together.
But then, how would that work? It wouldn't. She's getting ahead of herself. Too selfish. Too much. Sharon has offered so much of herself, much more than Brenda deserves in her own opinion - even thinking about wanting more is selfish; to everyone.
But she can dream.
chapter title from cardiac arrest by bad suns
I want to be clear about some stuff I have Brenda & Sharon talking about - it's very clearly my own prerogative speaking through and trying to dismantle, in a way that makes sense for the characters mindset, the propaganda that permeates a lot of crime television, including the show. Like, I love the show, and am of the opinion it's more than likely it was meant to be a commentary on a bunch of political things happening at the time of it's running + with characters and a cohesive, interesting plot and good actors than it was actually meant to be unfiltered raw propaganda with no criticisms, but in a flawed, unequal system everything becomes copaganda and The Closer/Major Crimes is no different, I find myself catching and removing small portions of it every now and then all the time.
I'm really not interested in entertaining the idea that The Closer/Major Crimes are anything other than ideals that I play around with, because that's what they are - ideals. I enjoy the show, the isolated work place and situations I get to write, and the characters specifically. But real life doesn't work like this, and 'America' like anywhere else is corrupt and built on inequality. If you want to "find new ways to do good" in your own communities, I'm gonna attach a reading on abolition & decolonization, because I am a staunch supporter of community activism, community crowdfunding, abolition, and de-escalating and problem solving without the police. Your communities need you! (i had a bunch of links here, but I have OCD/autism among my bag of tricks (aka my bag of mental illness/neurodivergence) and I couldn't keep it there looking the way it looked. So I'll offer instead if anyone wants twitter, tumblr or instagram accounts to follow to keep up with these types of things, (or book or paper recommendations!) I'm happy to give those.
Anyway, hopping off my soap box. Love y'all and thanks for the support :)
read/on-police-abolition-decolonization-is-the-only-way
And this I just think is something everyone should read,
"We Are Not A historically Underserved Community. We are Historically Resilient": p/CNz9NRbjzZ7/?utm_medium=copy_link