The Consequences of Pie

"I can't believe you had to double park for ten minutes just for this," Sharon said as they reached her front door.

"Just this? It's the best pie you'll ever have, I swear, Sharon. It was worth it."

The brunette rolled her eyes before she could help it and stuck the key in the lock. True to her word, Brenda had ordered a bottle of wine - and had made her drink most of it.

Sharon's head spun as they entered her house. Looking anywhere but straight ahead was out of the question. "I'm not even sure I can eat another bite."

"Course you can," Brenda insisted and closed the door behind them. "You ordered, could've left out the pork."

"Ugh," Sharon groaned. "But it all sounded sooo good!"

"I wouldn't know," the blonde grumped, "As the menu was all in Spanish."

"You've lived here for nearly seven years, I assumed somebody like you would at least pick up the basics."

"Not fair!" Brenda dumped her bag next to the table in the hall, pie carefully cradled in her arms. "Next time I'll take you to a Russian place, or German...or even Czech. Languages I actually do know how to order in."

"Ha! You know, the Department offers free language courses. Shouldn't be too difficult for someone who speaks Russian, German and Czech."

Brenda shrugged. "It's just what was useful at the time..."

"Never mind." Sharon sighed and took her jacket off.

"What's that?"

The brunette squinted through her glasses at the pile of letters next to Brenda's giant tote. Then rolled her eyes. "The mail."

"I can see that," the blonde drawled nasally. "But this. It don't have a post stamp on it."

Indeed it didn't. Sharon tried to remember when she had brought that letter in - yesterday, probably. It was on the very top of the pile. Why hadn't she noticed?

Perhaps with everything that had been going on - Peck being questioned and subsequently arrested, his desk and everything on it declared evidence, and Brenda waltzing in, disseminating sensitive information - well, with all that, maybe Sharon had paid no attention to the letter.

The blonde, meanwhile, rummaged around in her bag until she produced a pair of gloves.

"What are you doing? You realize it's actually illegal to open somebody else's mail."

"For heaven's sakes, Sharon," Brenda grumped and picked up the letter. The typeface on the front was fairly nondescript. Black. Printed.

All it said was 'S. Raydor'. Brenda then proceeded to open the letter, carefully, and pulled out a white, folded sheet of paper. Inside, it said, in big bold letters: 'I SAW YOU'.

"Saw you where?" The blonde asked immediately.

Sharon shrugged, wracking her brain. "I have no idea." Then remembered. "I drove by his house once."

"Oooh, Sharon!" Brenda whined. "Whatever did you do that for?"

"I don't know...it was stupid, I wanted to see where he lived. I just thought...Christ."

The blonde folded the letter again and put it back into the envelope. She produced an evidence bag from her bottomless purse and put the letter in it.

"Do you always carry evidence bags around with you? And gloves?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

Why wouldn't she - Sharon repeated in her head, wishing she hadn't had the bottle of wine nearly to herself. "Okay," she then said, resignation settling into the pit of her stomach. "I've had enough. You win."

"Win?"

"Get it printed, swabbed for DNA, anything. I've had it with this guy."

Brenda nodded and pulled the gloves off. "I'll get it done."

"I'm sick of looking over my shoulder, of worrying-" Sharon tried to suck in a deep breath but found that she couldn't. "Oh, god!"

"Hey," Brenda said from somewhere far, far away. "Sharon." Then her hands were gripping her shoulders. "Calm down. Calm down."

"Okay," Sharon said, more to herself than Brenda. "Okay, okay."

"Good."

She looked up and found Brenda's big, brown eyes staring right back at her, gaze stern and hard.

"I promise, Sharon."

"Okay," the brunette said again and reached out for the blonde's arms, holding onto them as her hands were holding onto Sharon's shoulders, grounding and safe.

Brenda's eyes turned harder. "I'll bury him."

The worry in her belly vanished and was instead replaced by a feeling of calm, of purpose because, for all the uncertainty Brenda had inspired in her before and afterwards, nothing had ever been uncertain when they had been together.

Sharon had always grasped for that feeling, flailing helplessly in her marriage, her life...until, well.

She leaned forward into Brenda's arms until the blonde bumped into the door and then further still, until their lips met.

Sharon kissed the blonde, selfishly holding onto that calm, that purpose, because it was all she had ever wanted, really. And Brenda kissed her back, hands in her hair, sucking on her lower lip, strung out and desperate.

Maybe it wasn't all in her head, Sharon thought, maybe she could allow herself to hope that-

But she couldn't. Because Brenda was married. Because Brenda was selfish and loved Fritz.

Sharon turned away, her fingers delicately touching her own lips. Had this really just happened? The brunette slammed her eyes shut and shook her head. "What are we doing?" She looked at Brenda, still slumped against the door, her own lipstick smeared onto the blonde's face.

"I am so sorry," Sharon said. "I've-I've had too much to drink, and I, uh..." She trailed off and wiped at her own, undoubtedly smeared lipstick.

"You know I'd never say no to you," Brenda murmured quietly.

Sharon did know that, sadly. "And I have to. Say no, that is."

And Brenda knew that, too.

"Okay," the brunette sucked a breath in anew and nodded to herself. "Maybe, if you find his prints on this, we can lock him up. He's not supposed to make any contact with me."

"Right," Brenda said. "I'll just-" She looked upset, Sharon could tell even though the blonde was usually difficult to read. Then Brenda brushed past her, into the bathroom and locked the door.

Her eyes fell onto the cherry pie sitting neatly atop her unopened mail.

Well, she thought. Well...

Brenda called her the next day, late at night, after Sharon had just about gotten over the awkward car ride that morning. She was still waiting for Elliott who had promised to drop off his finished report on his way home.

He worked too much and Sharon had begun to wonder if there was something bothering him. The whole ordeal with Peck had stung, especially since Elliott had sat right next to him for the better part of four years.

Maybe they could talk tonight.

"We found his prints all over the envelope and the letter itself."

"Okay," Sharon said slowly. "That was incredibly stupid of him."

"Well." Brenda breathed into the phone for a long moment then said, "The interestin' part is what's not on it. Which is your fingerprints."

"What do you mean? I picked up the mail, I brought it in myself."

"That's why I suggested to Chief Pope that we post a black and white outside your house until we find Crawley and arrest him."

"Oh, god," she mumbled. "When will they be here?" Sharon stood on her toes and glanced out of the kitchen window, unable to help herself.

"Half an hour. D'you want me to come over?"

"Uh." Yes, was the answer but Sharon, after what had happened last night, thought it better if they didn't see each other again. "No. Sergeant Elliott should be here any minute."

"Okay."

The brunette exhaled and wandered into her bedroom, checking for her gun. "Oh, god, he was in my house." The gun laid in her drawer, where she had left it but Sharon checked it nonetheless. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

"He wasn't at his house but we have an APB on him and his car."

Sharon opened her underwear drawer, just to be sure it hadn't been messed with but found everything in order.

"Sharon?"

Then there was a knock on the door and Sharon flooded with relief. "Elliott's here."

"Okay. Have him stay 'til the patrol car pulls up."

"I will. Thank you, Brenda."