Burying The Hatchet
"Yes, Detective, I've heard everythin' you just said but-Will, Will, I mean, Chief Pope!" Brenda pressed her cell phone to her chest. "Yohoo, Chief, one second, Detective Gabriel."
"Yes, Deputy Chief Johnson?" Will responded glumly as the blonde caught up to him, accosting him right outside the bar.
"Oh, Will, there's been a murder-"
"I've heard."
"-and I was wonderin' if-"
"You're staying right here."
"What, why?" She almost stomped her foot - silly Tommy Delk and silly FBI bigheads making her late. "Will, are you tellin' me that I ought to send half my squad out there to investigate a murder by themselves while the other half is out partyin' with Chief Delk, is that what you're saying? I bet you that-"
"Send Provenza." Will nodded politely at another officer who entered the bar. "He's supposed to be the Incident Commander, isn't he? Not that you've given him much of a chance to earn his paycheck over the years..."
Brenda huffed, hands (and cell phone) going to her hips. "You're takin' Provenza's side?" Her gaze remained nonchalant. "Is that what you're tellin' me?"
"What I'm telling you is that Chief Delk asked for your presence specifically and I'm not about to contradict his orders." Will opened the door, smiling at Provenza and Flynn who had just caught up with Brenda. "Oh, Lieutenant, just the man I wanted to see! There's been a murder but I'm sure Chief Johnson can fill you in."
With that he entered the bar.
Brenda seethed inwardly; Will was behaving highly irrational.
"Just great," Provenza grumbled. "Great."
Flynn shrugged beside him. "Hey, Chief? Can I go, too?"
The blonde scratched her eyebrow, contemplating whether to stay or to just leave because, after all, a murder was more important than Chief Delk's mission to stroke the FBI's ego - it was big enough as it was - surely even he must see that.
"Whatever you do, Chief, don't leave," Taylor said who had slinked around the corner, newfound swing in his step. "Chief Delk is restructuring the LAPD," he quipped, "Wouldn't wanna wind up on his bad side..."
"Ooooh, I hate politics."
Taylor shrugged. "C'mon, Chief Johnson, you've got a capable squad...and Provenza. I'm sure they can take care of one little murder by themselves." He smiled and held the door open.
"You go on, Chief," Flynn reassured her while his partner glowered at Taylor. "We'll take care of it."
Brenda hesitated a moment, shifted from one foot to the other then said, "But call me as soon as you get there."
"Will do, c'mon, Flynn, let's get goin'."
"As soon as you find somethin' out, gentlemen, is that clear?"
"Yep!" Provenza took his hat off, waving it at her as they rounded the corner.
Brenda stared after them, even after they had disappeared, biting her lip anxiously as at least a thousand scenarios of how her squad could mess things up ran through her mind.
Of course she trusted them, of course! The blonde blinked. Of course.
"Chief? After you..." Taylor opened the door wider.
Brenda sighed and lifted her cell phone up to her ear. "Detective Gabriel? I will have to call you back." She hung up.
And that had been that.
"Thank you, Commander," Brenda cooed as they entered the bar. It was busy, the ballgame was on and people were cheering. The blonde took off her hat and clamped it under her arm, mindlessly scanning the crowd.
She spotted Will, who gave her a look, the meaning of which she wasn't remotely interested in. Brenda blew out a breath and decided to at least pretend she was mingling with her fellow officers but found her thoughts drifting back to the murder.
Road rage, Gabriel had said. Doesn't look like gangs, Sanchez had vowed.
Killing somebody over who has the bigger truck?
Brenda nibbled on her lower lip.
And whipped out her cell phone from her pants pocket. She hit speed dial, momentarily turning away from Will's prying eyes. "Detective," she didn't want to lose any time, "Did you check the car for a gun?"
"Uh, yeah, Chief, that's the first thing we did," Gabriel replied evenly and Brenda knew she was unnerving him a bit.
"And?"
"No gun."
"A knife?" She asked hopefully.
"No knife, Chief."
The blonde sighed. "Any weapons? At all?"
"Well," Gabriel started conversationally, "There was a bat."
"Baseball bat?" The blonde glanced at the TV for a moment.
"Yep. But there was also two gloves, uh some balls...you know, baseball gear."
"Oh, for heaven's sakes..." She took a breath and was about to ask yet another question when her cell phone suddenly disappeared. Whipping around, Brenda came face to face with Will.
"Hello, Gabriel? Yeah. Ah. Of course. Well, she'll have to call you back later. Much later."
The blonde adopted a sour expression but said nothing, knowing she was treading on thin ice with him as it was.
"Mingle." He said and handed the phone back.
Mingling wasn't really Brenda's forté. That's what she had Fritz for. He mingled, she followed. He socialized. She stayed at home. And if it weren't for him she would be a hermit.
Sighing, Brenda wandered aimlessly around the room. She pulled on the collar of her uniform, her eyes jumping from one familiar face to another as she inwardly complained about the stifling material of her Blues.
Captain Baker from Vice nodded her way, albeit reluctantly, and Brenda nodded back.
The blonde blew another breath out, curling her toes in the heavy boots she was wearing, and decided that, since everything else was sort of failing, she should get a glass of Merlot.
Surely, she could have one drink..? Everyone else seemed to.
Brenda made her way toward the bar, hoping for a seat.
She saw that the TV was on, showing the ballgame in whichever inning, Brenda couldn't care less and, she gleefully spotted it, a free chair.
The blonde bit her lip.
Wonnerful...
Making her way past a particularly tall specimen of a guy, Brenda stopped dead in her tracks.
Sergeant Elliott.
The blonde's nostrils flared as she debated whether to just sit next to him or to turn around and find somebody else to sit next to.
However, Brenda was somewhat relieved to observe, somebody did sit next to him then. A young blond officer, maybe the same age, who patted him on the back enthusiastically.
Old friends, perhaps?
Brenda made a face - probably went to the academy together...
She swerved to the left, in need of a drink, knowing who she would very likely encounter but not at all fazed by the possibility.
Sure enough, next to Elliott sat Captain Raydor, perfectly poised on her bar stool, sipping on what Brenda knew to be a dry white.
The blonde hesitated for a moment, gazing at the woman as if in a trance, strangely intrigued by their earlier meeting and the calming sensation it had left behind. Brenda had expected a lot of upset and confusion, perhaps some embarrassed looks before everything went back to normal.
After the woman had dumped her.
Which was exactly what had happened.
Not that Brenda liked to think about it; who liked to be dumped anyway?
Anything but complete indifference would have been normal but there they had been, on the elevator, exchanging pleasantries.
"It's yours if you want it?" Sharon nodded toward the chair. "I guarantee you, no one else is going to sit there."
The blonde licked her bottom lip to disguise the smirk that was about to overtake her features and slid onto the chair.
That was easy, she thought, and placed her hat on the bar top, somewhat proud at the looks she was garnering - yes, indeed, she braved the Wicked Witch.
"Drink?"
Brenda nodded and loosened her tie a bit. "Horrible thang..." She muttered under her breath and opened the top button.
"Sammy?" Sharon meanwhile called over the bar, waving subtly at a young man. "Can I get a big, tall glass of Merlot, please?"
He smiled cheekily, showing off a dimple. "Coming right up."
"Just put it on my tab."
"Thanks," the blonde released a long breath, finally able to relax now that she had found somebody to latch onto - even though it was Captain Raydor - and gave Sergeant Elliott a tight smile.
"You didn't bring Lieutenant what's-his-face?" The blonde wondered, remembering a burly man.
"Nope," Sharon picked up her glass very delicately. "Somebody's got to man the phones, haven't they?" The brunette's eyes scanned the place briefly before landing back on Brenda. "Flynn and Provenza?"
The blonde pursed her lips in displeasure and received her wine. "We picked up a murder."
"Any good?" Sharon asked over the rim of her glass.
"Dunno," Brenda commented loosely and took a sip of her own wine. "Somewhere along Sepulveda..."
"Which could practically be anywhere," the brunette interjected.
"Exactly. But instead of investigatin' this murder I'm sittin' here-"
"With me."
"-waitin' on Chief Delk."
"And California's Assistant Director of the FBI."
Brenda nodded. "And Fritz."
"I know," Sharon said evenly. "It's so unfair."
The blonde nodded then, suddenly, lifted her eyebrows. "If I'd known you'd be completely unsympathetic to my situation, we coulda sat here in silence, too." She turned her body toward the bar, away from Sharon. "You should've just said."
The brunette smirked next to her, turning toward the bar as well, leaving them shoulder to shoulder. "I'm right in the middle of hour 49 in a 72 hour reporting cycle and I'm sitting here, with you, waiting for Chief Delk-"
"And the Assistant Director of the FBI-"
"And Agent Howard," Sharon added. "While I should be out there, interviewing a potential witness." She glanced at her clock. "But if I had known that you would be so unsympathetic to my situation, we could've just sat here in silence, too, Chief."
Brenda smiled, she couldn't help it, and sipped her wine, just to disguise her expression and whatever came along with it. "My, Cap'n Raydor," she cooed, "Sounds like you've got your hands full."
"Nothing I can't handle, Chief."
The blonde toyed with the stem of her wine glass, tapping her fingernails against it, her mind slowly settling into the comfort of the woman's presence. Oddly enough, Brenda thought, she felt at ease.
They still shared a secret but, and that was the crucial factor, they weren't sleeping together anymore. Brenda felt the pressure ease somewhat, the simple matter that she did not have to hide what they were doing anymore calming her mind.
She glanced sideways at the woman's crossed legs, at the mere hint of breasts beneath the uniform, her lips, her eyelashes as she blinked...
Brenda swallowed and blinked herself, a memory surfacing at the most inopportune moment.
Whatever it was, it wasn't gone then, not completely, it lingered still yet Brenda found herself in control, she had taken back the reigns and it seemed like Sharon had done the same.
Of course she had, the blonde thought, the woman had dumped her - message received loud and clear.
"So," Sharon said, a fingertip tracing the rim of her glass. "How was your New Year's Eve, Chief Johnson? Did you celebrate?"
Brenda bit her tongue, something she hadn't been very good at in the past when in the other woman's presence - no more though, she thought, and mulled the question over in her head.
Sharon was very hard to read yet sometimes she was painfully obvious; however, Brenda concluded, today she wasn't the latter.
The blonde licked her bottom lip and decided to go with the truth, see where it led them.
"It was very nice, thank you. My parents and I spent a quiet evenin' at home, watchin' old movies..." She trailed off.
"Sounds great," Sharon meant it, Brenda could tell.
"I cooked dinner, just so my Mama could have a little break..." She trailed off again. The blonde narrowed her eyes, wondering how much she should truly reveal yet couldn't see the harm in allowing the woman at least a glimpse into her private life. "Clams..."
The brunette smiled, surprised.
"How was yours?"
Sharon adopted a musing expression, her eyes narrowed, her lips curling at the corners and then she said, to Brenda's amusement, "Very, very quiet."
"I thought you had plans?"
"They were my plans," the brunette turned back which, Brenda thought, was as much of an admittance of defeat as she was going to get and turned back around as well. "I opened a bottle of wine, listened to Tchaikovsky, cooked a wonderful dinner..."
Sharon smiled at her, pleased with herself, before she picked up her glass and tilted her head in an inviting fashion. Brenda decided to humor the woman yet couldn't help but smile back as she picked up her own glass and clinked it against Sharon's.
"To new beginnings..."
The blonde mulled the words over as Sharon drank and decided that yes, indeed, this was new. She had no idea where it was going but found herself curiously infatuated with this new way of being. "To new beginnings," she echoed and took a long sip.
"Can I talk to you for a sec?"
Both women turned around at the voice, Sharon with a more alarmed expression than Brenda, and came face to face with what the blonde assumed to be former Officer Crawley.
Sharon surveyed him for a moment, her eyes slowly creeping up his body. "I don't think that there is anything you and I have to discuss."
"Look," he wanted to step closer but Sharon slid off her chair. "Look," he started over, "I'm getting help now, alright?"
"Yet here you are, in a bar."
"Can we just talk?"
"No." Sharon picked up her glass, Brenda watched her, and made to move around the guy.
"C'mon."
"Whatever is happening to you, isn't my fault," the brunette said slowly. "You brought it all on yourself."
The blonde's eyes darted to Officer Creepy and she instinctively intervened. "Captain," she said softly, sliding off her chair as well. "I'm sure Officer Crawley was just tryin' to have a friendly conversation," she glared at him. "But obviously this is neither the time nor the place for it."
"Hey, buddy," Sergeant Elliott piped up. "How about you back off?"
"Gentlemen!" Brenda said loudly. "Please. The Chief of Police is about to roll in here and I'm sure no one wants to look like a fool when he does. So, I suggest you, Officer, go on home and visit Captain Raydor in her office next week and you sit back down because if you don't have anythin' nice to say, Sergeant, it's usually better not to say anythin' at all."
Elliott stared at her for a moment then he seemed to decide that it was better to obey what sounded like an order and planted his behind back on his bar chair.
"Officer," Brenda adopted a stern gaze. "Go. Home."
Crawley put his hands on his hips, his jaw muscles flexing, he took a look around the suddenly quiet room then took off without another word.
The blonde released a breath, her heart pounding away in her chest and turned to the Captain beside her. "Y'know, Sharon, it's sometimes beneficial not to attack a suspect as soon as they open their mouth."
"Oh, please," Sharon rolled her eyes and sat back onto her stool at the bar. "I would've loved to see him slip up in a bar full of cops."
"And put yourself in harm's way?"
"Chief-"
"She's right, Captain," Elliott said, nodding. "I'm sorry to say, but he's a lunatic."
Brenda lifted her eyebrow - told you so.
"Fine," Sharon threw her hands up and turned around on her chair, picking up her glass of wine. "But it's not like he's breaking any laws."
"Yet," Brenda mumbled under her breath. "Next time you see him, Cap'n, you should arrest him on the spot."
Elliott nodded, smirking. "Agreed."
"See? Even your Sergeant's talking sense."
The brunette rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch. "Did Agent Howard mention when the guests of honor will be arriving?" She said with a somewhat sarcastic undertone.
Brenda exchanged one last glance with Elliott, who then minded his own business, and slid back onto her chair. "No idea." She shrugged, tracing a scratch on the bar top with her finger.
"He's harmless."
"You don't know that," the blonde retorted immediately. "He's been harassin' you, he's been followin' you round, he's even showed up at your house."
"He was drunk."
"And you believe that nonsense he just spouted? That was a good helpin' of bourbon if I ever smelled one."
Sharon tapped her fingers against her wine glass, momentarily silent as her eyes swept from one bottle to another on the shelf behind the bar then slumped forward somewhat and sighed. "Fine...yes, he is out of control but there is nothing I can do about it."
Brenda watched her and wondered if Sharon was actually scared.
"Not yet anyway."
"Well, Cap'n, you don't sound very optimistic."
Sharon pursed her lips a little. "Do I ever?"
The blonde smirked. "I've heard a word of encouragement or two..." Brenda dropped the smile and swallowed - she hadn't meant it to sound that way...or had she?
Sharon merely tilted her head slightly in a mixture of 'what are you doing?' and 'did you really just go there?'
"I'm still gettin' used to this," Brenda explained, knowing Sharon understood. "Us bein' friendly, I mean."
The brunette sighed yet again and leaned her head against her palm. "Me too." She smiled slightly, "but hey, it's working a treat, don't you think?"
Brenda smiled back. "Now, see? That was very optimistic of you, Cap'n."
"Sharon."
"Hmm?" The blonde lifted her eyebrows, having heard correctly.
"Sharon," the brunette nodded to herself and held out her hand.
Smoothing her hair back into place in a somewhat embarrassed gesture, the blonde grasped the offered hand. "Brenda," she said and smiled at the warmth of Sharon's fingers and palm.
"Am I interrupting?"
Brenda did well not to snatch her hand away as Fritz suddenly appeared. "No, not at all," she exclaimed with all the calm in the world, sliding her hand smoothly out of Sharon's. "The Captain and I were just burying the hatchet."
"Ah," Fritz commented and gave Raydor a tight nod. "Captain."
"Agent Howard," the brunette seemed fine, much less ill at ease than the last time they had run into each other, Brenda thought. "Congratulations. I heard they gave you a bigger office for the occasion."
Brenda glanced at Fritz whose eyes wouldn't leave Raydor.
"They did," he said evenly. "Much nicer view, too."
Brenda chuckled and so did Sharon.
"Would you care for a drink, Agent Howard?"
"No, thanks...I'll get my own."
The blonde grimaced at the very short lived taste of peace.
"So..." Fritz leaned onto the bar top, waving for the bartender. "Your son applied for a transfer."
Brenda swallowed heavily, feeling suddenly very uncomfortable.
"Has he now?" Sharon seemed nonchalant.
But then again, Brenda thought with a raised eyebrow...
"My division, too. How about that?"
"How about that..." the brunette echoed with a slight smile.
But then again, Brenda thought, she knew Sharon better than she cared to admit and that nonchalant expression was merely a means to hide how utterly out of her element she was.
"He's been with the organized crime unit for so long...why the sudden change?"
Sharon wetted her lip a little and spoke with her most concise yet honeyed tone, "Perhaps you should ask him that, Agent Howard."
"I sure will," Fritz said and ordered himself a Ginger Ale.
Oh, well, Brenda glanced at Sharon while Sharon glanced at her - somehow she knew exactly what the brunette was thinking and vice versa, apparently.
If anything, the woman could read her, at least Brenda feared so.
She wasn't the easiest person to read.
Brenda was somewhat proud of that.
At that very moment the door opened and Chief Delk waltzed in, smiling from ear to ear, the Assistant Director of the FBI right behind him.
"I better join them for a drink," Fritz announced, "I'll be right back." He pecked Brenda on the cheek and followed the two men into the crowd.
The blonde sighed in relief and turned back toward the bar, not missing Sharon's bemused expression.
"Yeah," the brunette said, having been caught, "I wouldn't want to schmooze with them either."
"Very funny..."
"That's what I'm known for; my great sense of humor."
Brenda glared. "May I silence you with a drink?"
"I shouldn't have any more..."
"Water? Ginger Ale? A coke?"
Sharon sighed, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling. "Tonic."
Brenda looked at her for a moment then smirked, "Of course. The tartiest thang..."
"Oh, please...not everyone likes their beverage with an extra side of sugar."
The blonde pursed her lips. "I'll pretend I didn't just hear you say that, Cap'n." She waved at Sammy with a rather winning smile and ordered a Tonic, ice, one slice of lemon and a straw. Sharon didn't like ice, usually. Perhaps it made her teeth hurt.
She did like straws however. Brenda frowned as the drink arrived before her and she slid it towards Sharon who wrapped her lips around the straw in a most decadent manner, mindful of her lipstick, and took a small sip.
"Chief Johnson!"
Brenda nearly choked on her own saliva. "Chief Delk, how nice to see you!"
"Captain Raydor..." He nodded with a faint smile that Sharon returned.
"Wonderful speech, sir."
The man's chest puffed a bit. "Thank you," he cleared his throat. "It's been a very productive day. The FBI and the LAPD will undoubtedly work even closer together in the future."
"Undoubtedly," Sharon repeated.
Brenda nodded and bit her lip at the Captain's all too familiar tone.
"Well," he went on, "I will leave you to it." He lifted his bottle of Miller in a silent salute, the bottle he hadn't even taken a sip from but made him look as if he was slumming it with the rest of them. He slinked away.
The blonde watched him join the Deputy Director and Fritz, and then laugh at something. She rolled her eyes.
"I think we have fulfilled our obligation, Chief. Does that mean we can leave?"
Brenda blinked at the Captain who was innocently sipping away on her Tonic then her eyes wandered about the room.
She couldn't see Will anywhere.
Oh, to hell with it...
"I need a ride."
"And I have a car."