Sail On! Sail On!

The next morning, Sergeant Elliott nodded at her knowingly.

The plan was about to be set into motion. Sharon took a deep breath for what felt like the hundredth time that day and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. She had picked out the Armani ensemble, it made her feel good - confident even - and she had spent extra time on her hair and make up.

She was ready to hate Brenda's guts today even though her insides felt as if they were about ready to drop right out of her. They had finalized their plan over dinner but Sharon would have preferred a rehearsal of some description; she hated going into things blind.

But then Brenda had been right - it had to look natural.

It was by 11:39 that she heard the commotion. She had refrained from staring in the direction of the door mostly successfully but as soon as Brenda came into view, Sharon couldn't help but spring out of her chair.

The Chief wore a grave expression, her big tote swinging violently back and forth, while Provenza trailed after her, red faced.

"Cap'n Raydor, you have somethin' I need," the blonde barreled before she had even come into her office. "JJ Medina. I need him, and I need him now."

"I'm sorry, Chief," Sharon said calmly. "Who?"

"Cap'n, I order you-"

"Do not use that tone with me."

Brenda's lips thinned. "Cap'n, all I'm tryin' to do here is figure out the mess y'all dropped yourselves into. So, if y'all could just hand over Mr. Medina-"

"We had to let him go," she interrupted while Brenda dropped her purse noisily onto a chair.

Provenza cringed.

"Now why in the world would you do that?" The blonde asked in her most petulant voice.

"He was my informant, we had a deal. This is me upholding said deal."

"Oh, for heaven's sakes!"

"I'm sure, Chief Johnson, that with seasoned investigators such as Lieutenant Provenza here, you won't have any trouble finding JJ Medina yourself." Sharon smirked; she used to love using that tone with Brenda, it always got her hackles up, and for a brief moment she reveled in the antagonized contortion that was Chief Johnson's face.

Picking up her purse, Brenda gave her one last scathing look. "Lieutenant, with me!" The blonde tore out the door and through the bullpen.

"Ooooh, that woman!" She hissed, then she was gone.

Sharon just stood there for a moment, hands in her jacket pockets.

Well.

"Sergeant Elliott!" She called into the deathly silent room. "Please, release JJ Medina."

"But...uh..."

"Now," Sharon reiterated with a tiny smirk.

Sharon almost expected to have to wait but when she entered the restaurant, Brenda was already there, waving at her from across the room.

"Hi," the blonde said around a mouthful of bread. It looked like she had attacked the bread basket for the better part of fifteen minutes - only one roll left.

"So?"

"I think I'm havin' a salad...less carbs."

"A salad?" Sharon squinted. "I'm talking about the case. Also," she added with a condescending look, "I think it's a little late for that salad anyway."

Brenda pouted at the jab and disappeared behind a menu. "My seasoned investigator, Lieutenant Provenza, is following Mr. Medina to his apartment as we speak." The blonde glanced at her over the rim of her reading glasses. "Did you have to call him that?"

"Just trying to keep in character, is all."

"Very funny."

The waiter came and Brenda indeed ordered a Caesar salad.

"The same for me," Sharon said. "And a jug of tap water, please." When he left, she looked at Brenda, eyebrows raised.

"Flynn is going over the phone records still, maybe that'll turn up somethin'. And ballistics came back. 9mm, Tao is runnin' it now."

"Perfect. Although, the phone records proved to be useless. All we got was three burner cells that led absolutely nowhere."

"Well," Brenda said airily. "Can't hurt."

Sharon wanted to roll her eyes but refrained from doing so, then the blonde grabbed the last roll and took a huge bite. "What? You didn't want that, did you?"

"Nope, you go ahead."

Brenda smiled. "This is nice," she said, surprising them both. "I mean-um, it's nice. Us. Talkin'. This mornin' reminded me of how much I don't miss being...enemies."

"Enemies?" Sharon let out a laugh. "I never thought of you as my enemy, Brenda."

"Nemesis?"

"Ha! That I like," she chuckled. "But, yes. I don't miss it either."

Later, when Sharon was about to leave because she couldn't justify another minute at the office, her phone vibrated with a text message.

'Found the gun. Been wiped but found print on magazine. Waiting for comparison.'

Biting her lip against the wave of anxiety, and perhaps a little bit of trepidation, even though this was good news, Sharon put on her jacket and grabbed her briefcase. Out in the bullpen, which was mostly deserted, except for the lone figure of Sergeant Elliott, Sharon stopped.

"Sergeant, time to go."

Startled, the young man looked up to her. "I was just going over the phone records, is all. See if we missed anything."

"Still. Time to go."

His handsome features transformed into a smile. "Sure thing, Captain."

She smiled back at him then left.

Sharon paced the length of her kitchen for the third time, waiting for the microwave to ding. She couldn't believe she resorted to frozen lasagna but the past few days had left little opportunity to shop.

Glancing at her watch again, Sharon decided to call the woman herself. How long could it take to compare a set of prints?

It had been two hours already!

The microwave dinged.

But Sharon reached for her phone instead. As she picked it off the kitchen counter, it began to ring in her hand.

Brenda Johnson.

"Yes?" She pressed the phone tightly against her ear, anxious.

"Prints came back to a Hector Martinez. Ring any bells?"

"He's Prince's right hand man."

Brenda sighed on the other end. "We picked him up an hour ago."

An hour ago? Sharon squinted at her watch. "Wait. How-"

"We need to talk."

Face to face, Sharon figured. "Okay. Where are you?" There was a knock on her door, timed perfectly. She bit her lip then hung up the phone.

Here goes nothing, Sharon thought to herself. Heart beating its way out of her chest, she approached her front door. Somewhere, in her gut, she knew that her world would fall to pieces. Somewhere in her gut she knew what Brenda was about to say to her.

"Sharon," Brenda said, and Sharon could tell from the look on her face, that her worst fears were about to come true.

The blonde closed the door behind herself, her big brown eyes betraying her guilt.

"Just tell me."

Brenda nibbled on her lip then sighed and dropped her purse onto the side table next to the door. "Hector tried to kill JJ."

Sharon released a mighty breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding. "So, there is a leak...in my division." Saying it out loud felt cruel, and Sharon couldn't stand to hear it. She turned away and went into the kitchen, her eyes stinging with tears.

Brenda followed her, her heels clacking across the hardwood and then the tiles in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Sharon."

"It's not your fault."

"I need to ask you..."

She mustered up the courage to turn around and face the other woman. "What is it?"

"Who went over the phone records?"

For a moment Sharon felt confused, then she said, "Sergeant Elliott. Wait-Oh, no. You're wrong."

"There was a fourth burner cell," Brenda said. "Untraceable, of course. But if we found it, we could-"

"But why would he hide it? Why, if it's untraceable?"

Brenda shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he was worried that, if we found it-"

"Maybe it's all a big mistake," Sharon argued. "We should just talk to him. Ask him. If you arrest him, his career will be over."

"We're not arrestin' him. We don't have any evidence yet. In the meantime Lieutenant Provenza is puttin' together a search warrant-"

"Brenda, I'm telling you, you are wrong."

The blonde studied her and Sharon hoped the woman could see how much she believed what she had said, hoping it would change her mind too.

"What do you want me to do, Sharon?"

"Let me talk to him."

"You know I can't let you do that."

"Then let's do it together."

"Sharon..."

"Please," she begged with wide eyes and trembling lips. "Please."

Brenda hesitated. As a last resort, Sharon reached out and took the blonde's hand in her own. It was slightly clammy and cold but the hand squeezed back. She saw Brenda blush a rosy pink, her brown eyes averted at first then looking at their intertwined fingers.

Teeth bit down onto a plump lip then their gazes met.

A loud noise interrupted the moment. "What was that?" Sharon wondered out loud.

Brenda didn't answer but dropped her hand. With quick steps, the blonde went into the foyer and reached into her tote. She pulled out her gun and opened the door. Sharon was right behind her, hand resting on Brenda's shoulder as they stepped outside.

It was dark but Sharon could immediately see what had made the sound. Her driver's side car window was smashed.

Brenda lowered her gun as they detected no immediate threat.

"Great," Sharon said as they stepped closer. "After the paint job, the tire and now this, they'll think I'm completely unfit to own a car."

They both leaned in and looked inside. "Anything stolen?"

"Nothing in there to steal." Sharon opened the door from the inside. "You think this is a coincidence?" She looked back at Brenda who frowned at the shattered glass.

"Coincidence? I think someone really hates your car...or your guts."

Sharon slammed the door angrily, leaned against the car with a thud and then promptly burst into tears. First she felt embarrassed then utterly mortified, and then Brenda's arms enveloping her. She tucked her face into the blonde's neck and breathed hotly against the soft skin.

"We'll figure it out..." Brenda cooed and Sharon tried to remember, in all the time that she had known the woman, in all the time they had slept together, whether Brenda had ever hugged her.

"Now, pull yourself together, Raydor."

"Okay," Sharon hiccuped. "I am." She sucked in a series of deep breaths, fisting Brenda's poly blend top. It was then that Sharon felt 'not alright', that she missed their intimacy, that she missed Brenda, and she vowed that once this was over, she would go out to dinner with her.

"I'm fine now," Sharon said and drew back a little to look Brenda in the eye. "This isn't even worth calling in."

"You and I both know who did this and I think you should report it."

"Brenda..."

"Fine, fine," the blonde said dramatically, "I won't pester."

Sharon shook her head then looked back at her car. "I can't deal with this now," she said, finally.

"You'll have to let me look into Crawley when all this is over."

"That's hardly efficient use of Major Crimes' time, or yours."

Brenda just shrugged. "I'll have Provenza do it."

Rolling her eyes, Sharon trudged back into the house. "Fine. You have my permission, although I doubt it would've made a difference...knowing you." Inside, she slipped into a pair of heels.

"Where are you goin'?"

"With you," Sharon said and held up Brenda's purse. The blonde frowned but dropped her gun in it anyway. "Are you going to interview that Martinez character or what?"

"I was just on my way there," the blonde replied contritely. "What about Sergeant Elliott?"

What about him? Sharon gave it all of two seconds of introspection. "Do you trust me?"

"Sure. Of course I do." The answer was immediate, genuine, as far as Sharon could tell, and somewhere, deep down, it pleased her immensely.

"Then trust me to handle this." It was a lot to ask, especially of Brenda who, for the most part, seemed to only trust herself.

The blonde though nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "Let's do this, Cap'n."