The Enemy Within

Sharon took a deep, deep breath to steel herself then lifted her arm and rapped on the door. It opened only seconds later, as if she were an expected visitor. Agent Howard looked at her, seemingly stunned, and before she could even say anything, he turned away.

"It's for you!" He yelled and walked away.

Sharon bit her lip. She hated coming here, and she hated even seeing the man. It wasn't his fault, obviously, he was entitled to his dislike of her after all, but a single look of his turned Sharon's stomach upside down with guilt.

You kissed my wife and I don't like you.

Good thing he didn't know about all the rest. Sharon frowned; sometimes she fantasized about telling him everything.

"Who's-oh."

"Brenda, I mean, Chief," Sharon said uneasily, aware that Fritz was loitering in the living room. "I need your help."

Brenda's eyebrows shot up then she glanced at the file folders she was holding, and then said, "Come on in, Sharon."

Sharon, not Captain.

She nodded and stepped into the house, files pressed against her chest. She realized Brenda was out of her work clothes - no floral patterns, swishy skirts or vintage blazers. A t-shirt, jeans and barefoot instead. They went into the kitchen, away from the blaring sports news Fritz was watching.

"I only just got in myself," Brenda said. "Was gonna run to the store but now that you're here, I've got a good enough excuse not to go."

"I'm sorry," Sharon checked her watch almost as an afterthought. "I didn't realize the time."

"It's fine..." Brenda seemed ill at ease but, Sharon realized, it wasn't the fact that Fritz sat on the sofa, barely out of earshot, but the fact that she hadn't yet said what she needed help with.

"It's about the Tolliver thing."

Brenda slouched. "You know I can't talk to you about that," she lamented, her voice nasal and annoying.

"This is important." Sharon dropped the files on the kitchen table. "I think," she said slowly, dreading what was about to be said. "I think there's a leak...in my division."

"What makes you think it's yours and not Narcotics'?" Brenda asked immediately, her face blank.

"Because..." Sharon shrugged, the words not coming to her.

"Have you even slept? Or eaten?"

"Brenda-"

"I'm orderin' Chinese." She picked up her phone.

"Brenda..."

"You like Happy Family?"

Protest dying on her lips, Sharon practically fell onto the nearest chair. "How about Italian?"

Brenda looked at her, wide eyed, then shrugged - she had managed to surprise the blonde. "...sure."

"There's a nice Italian not far from my house. I'm sure you're still in the delivery zone." Sharon flicked through her contacts. "There's this new tapas and wine place, they deliver but I haven't tried it yet."

"We should go," Brenda said casually.

Pressing the phone against her ear, Sharon just hummed, avoiding having to answer. She ordered the clam linguine for Brenda without even asking, and the crab ravioli for herself.

"Garlic bread," Brenda mouthed.

"And garlic bread, please. Hang on," she covered the phone. "Agent Howard want anything?" It felt strange asking but her manners dictated she had to.

"He's eaten..."

With the food ordered, Sharon hoped they'd get down to business but Brenda had wandered off. When she came back, she was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other.

"Before you say it, one teensy tiny glass won't kill anyone."

With that choice taken away from her as well, Sharon merely took the glass wordlessly and sipped. It was lovely, actually. She had made fun of Brenda a great many times but in all honesty, her taste in wine wasn't all that bad. Neither was her taste in food, if you didn't take the excessive sugar consumption into consideration.

Brenda wasn't a particularly exciting eater, nor was she picky, exactly, but rather discerning. She didn't just eat for the sake of eating, contrary to what people thought.

"Right. Wanna tell me who exactly told you where Prince and Tolliver would be meetin'?"

Sharon rolled her eyes - an educated guess, maybe? "I have a CI. He's helped me on a case about a year ago. Prostitute. When I heard Prince was running a prostitution ring, I figured he might be able to help."

"And he knew about this meetin'?"

"Yes." Sharon opened a file. "This is him. JJ. Turned out he knew all about Prince. Apparently he'd even slept with him a few times."

"My..." Brenda breathed. "That explains the nice suits."

Sharon snorted. "That was entirely inappropriate."

"So. What then?"

"Elliott and I were looking for him for three days, then we hauled him in on a solicitation charge. We talked, he agreed to see what he could find out and we, in exchange, dropped the charges. See where the next cook would be, who was feeding information, how Prince and Tolliver were communicating, who else was involved. Anything, really."

"And he came back with what you thought was the grand prize."

"Well..." Sharon bit her lip.

"You know what just about baffles me?"

"What?"

"Why, after findin' out all of this, you thought this was something FID had to investigate when this matter would've been far better suited for IAB or, say, Major Crimes?"

Sharon bit down on her initial response then said, carefully, "At that point I had realized that Narcotics had failed to adhere to proper procedure-"

"You were in over your head!"

"I was not. I was trying to get ahead of this before-"

"What?" Brenda said, hands on her hips. "Pope found out?"

It was true, Sharon admitted to herself - before Pope found out and humiliated her by giving the case to Major Crimes. "I am more than capable of conducting an investigation such as this one."

"And now look where we ended up," the blonde said, off-handedly, then shook her head and looked at her - she was exhausted, Sharon could tell. "That was uncalled for a-and I'm sorry. I just wish you'd asked me to help you. And, I have to say, I'm a little disappointed that you didn't, quite frankly."

"I know," Sharon said quietly and sighed. "We just don't get along at work." She tried a smile even though she was sure Brenda must see the truth in that statement as well.

"So." Brenda sat with her at the table, her mood seemingly improved. "The reason you're so adamant that the leak's in your division is the fact that no one knew about JJ or the meetin' until you told them, what, the day of?"

"Two hours prior."

"Coulda been a whole lotta people still. Two hours is a big enough window."

"I know that, and trust me, I'd rather it wasn't any of my people."

"But?" Brenda prodded and leaned across the table a bit.

"But...my gut just tells me that something isn't right."

The blonde looked at her for a long time then nodded, mind made up. "Has it ever occurred to you that the reason why Oseida really, really wanted you to investigate this was because she knew someone in your division was leakin' like a rusty bucket?"

Sharon felt her heart constrict within her chest - she hadn't. "Oh, god...do you think she's dirty?"

Brenda shrugged. "Either that, or she's very, very clever."

"Now what?"

"Well, we'll have to make absolutely sure first."

"Okay."

"You have to trust me."

"I will. I do."

Brenda gave her a tight smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Where's your CI?"

"Elliott has him in a motel." Sharon traced the rim of her wine glass to hide the relief she felt. "I worried that, if the leak is in my house, something would happen to him."

"Like it did to Tolliver."

"Yes. Prince killed him because he wasn't useful anymore."

"We're still runnin' ballistics on the bullet we found between his eyes, see if it turns up anything."

Sharon snorted. "Probably a waste of time."

"Probably," Brenda agreed. "You trust Elliott?"

Sharon didn't have to think twice. "I do."

"Call him. Tell him to bring JJ in."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"I have a plan," Brenda said just as the doorbell rang. With a mysterious grin on her face, the blonde grabbed some cash for a tip and disappeared.

While the blonde dealt with the delivery, Sharon mulled things over. She wasn't entirely sure what Brenda had planned but, apparently, it would at least provide a corner piece of the puzzle.

In the living room, the TV switched off.

"I'll just get us some plates," Brenda said as she came back and handed Sharon the plastic bag containing their food. All she could smell was garlic, not unpleasant though, and Sharon only then realized how incredibly hungry she was.

"Here."

Plates appeared, and silverware.

"I am starvin'!" Brenda declared, dumping the clam linguine onto her plate. "Tomorrow mornin'," she mumbled around a mouthful, "I'm comin' up to FID."

"And do what?"

"I need you to do, y'know, your thang."

"What thing?"

Brenda's cheeks turned rosy, her eyes firmly trained on her food. "Darth Raydor...the Wicked Witch..."

"Oh," Sharon said and chuckled at the absurdity. "Okay, I can do that."

"You'll hate my guts."

"I will?" Sharon asked, mouth watering at the delicious scent emanating from her food.

"Oh, yes," Brenda vowed. "And I'll need to bring in Provenza. I need somebody to know what we're doin'."

Provenza? Sharon wanted to gag. "Ugh," she said uncharacteristically. "He's going to be unbearable over this."

"And Flynn."

"Double ugh."

"Sharon," Brenda said with a stern gaze. "They know what they're doin'...at least most of the time, and I need them to work your case so it won't look like I am."

"Okay, fine. What do I do?"

"You just go to work and look pretty."

"I hate you," Sharon said, then stared down at her ravioli. She heard Brenda sigh beside her then the blonde patted her knee. "This is such a mess."

"We'll straighten it out, you'll see."

"Will 'we'?"

Brenda had the good decency to look a little guilty, her lips thinning. It was a look Sharon had seen plenty of times. "I'll have Flynn set the whole thing up. And by tomorrow, we'll hopefully know more. Now," Brenda sounded all business then, "have your Sergeant bring in this JJ character on some bogus charge first thing and don't tell anyone. I'll be coming up at noon."

"Okay. Got it."

"We'll speak after. Meet me at the Italian we've been to that time."

Sharon swallowed; she remembered the place, then she remembered that Brenda's husband was just in the next room.

"He's gone to bed," Brenda said.

It shouldn't relieve her that much and, coming back to her earlier thought, Sharon wished he was still there to hear all the details of their supposed friendship. "Okay. Late lunch. 2 o'clock."

"In the meantime, I need you to get a warrant together for all of Narcotics' phones."

Sharon shook her head. "On what grounds? We don't have anything."

"That don't matter," Brenda refilled her wine glass and grinned nonchalantly. "Just make sure everyone knows about it."

"Ah," Sharon caught on. "To see if it gets back to them."

"And to dial the pressure up a notch. If it's anyone sittin' in your bullpen, it's our way of lettin' them know that we know."

"That's set, then," Sharon said, the ravioli suddenly tasting much nicer. "This is good. I didn't realize how hungry I was." With Fritz in bed, Sharon felt much more at ease. Looking at Brenda, she couldn't help but smile; it felt strange being 'friendly' yet, somehow, it made being in the woman's presence more than bearable.

Perhaps, Sharon thought, sex had, sadly, ruined things between them for a long time.

They could have been friends, Brenda had said so herself, once.

"Maybe, when all this is over, we can go."

"Go where?"

Sharon shrugged, her eyes dancing all over the kitchen. A nervous tick, she knew that just as much as Brenda did. "The tapas place."

But Brenda smiled at her as she twirled her fork around her plate. "I think that's an excellent idea..."