Tinker, Taylor, Soldier, Sailor

On her way up in the elevator, Brenda began to regret her choice in outfit. It was too bright for the day after Chief Delk had keeled over and dropped dead.

They probably all thought she had known and had picked this outfit deliberately when all she had intended was to distract everyone long enough to not ask why she looked like death warmed over.

She also regretted going to the hotel so readily - that was just an admission of guilt, and she didn't even know what Fritz knew.

If she had stayed and argued her case, perhaps she would still be sleeping in her own bed.

Or perhaps it was time to stop lying.

"Chief?"

"Yes, Detective?"

"It's just..." He looked around. "What do you want me to tell the others?"

Brenda glanced down the hall and adjusted her purse. "Nothin'."

"Nothing?"

The blonde lifted an eyebrow. "Or is there anything you feel the need to say, Detective?"

Gabriel just looked back at her and then at his feet, shaking his head. "Nope."

The blonde nodded to herself as they split ways. Will would be mad, she just knew it. He had called six times earlier that morning. Her phone beeped as she stood in front of the vending machine - she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday but couldn't bring herself to choose anything.

She'd throw it straight back up, Brenda suspected, and she didn't want to associate any of these chocolate bars with that.

Instead she pulled out her phone and opened the text message. It was from Sharon. Brenda's tummy fluttered.

'Sorry, did not feel like talking to anybody. Good luck with the Pope.'

Brenda nibbled her lip. Should she even text back? What with...well, Fritz and everything. She would have to warn Sharon. Would Fritz confront her?

Or worse, report them for conduct unbecoming?

Brenda felt like heaving, again, and rubbed her tummy.

"Ah, finally," Will said from behind her and grabbed her arm like a brute. "In my office. Now."

They hurried down the hall.

"I've called you, Gabriel's called you. Provenza called you-"

"I know, I know," Brenda interrupted as the door slammed shut behind her. "I'm sorry. I just-" I just, what? The blonde breathed out slowly and stared at the big, stuffy chair behind the desk.

This would be her office in a month.

If she still had a job by then.

Brenda dropped her purse, flopped into the visitors' chair and stuck her head between her knees.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," she mumbled. "I know what you're gonna say and I just-I just don't think I can deal with it. Right now." When she looked up, Will was staring at her, confused. "So. They're makin' you Chief of Police."

"After the funeral. Which is how long you've got to get used to the idea of having to move office."

Brenda rubbed her temples. "Isn't there anyone else?"

"What? You want to report to Taylor?"

"Taylor," Brenda breathed, nauseated by the mere thought.

"Besides," Will said as he sat. "It has to be you. What's it going to look like if I promote Taylor over my own outside hire, who, may I remind you, was in the running for Chief herself."

And what a farce that had been, Brenda thought sullenly.

"Look. I realize you never wanted this job and I know you did your best to keep me behind my desk, I'm appreciative, but this is gonna happen, Brenda. Whether you like it or not."

The blonde picked up her discarded purse, suddenly woozy - low blood sugar, she told herself. She rummaged for a mint and then, out of nowhere, everything crept up on her again.

"If I still have a job by then," she said what she'd thought earlier out loud. "Or a husband."

"What?"

"Nothing. I mean, I may have made a...mistake. I dunno. It's not important." She glanced at her phone again and wiped at her eyes.

"Seriously, you need to get it together."

"I am, I will." She took a deep breath.

"Oh, and there's another thing. Speaking of Fritz. I got a call earlier this morning. Apparently the FBI pulled the evidence in Raydor's shooting. Know anything about that?"

Well, Brenda thought as her face drained of all color, now he knew everything.

"Fritz," she said, voice steady. "I know you told me not to call but...but I want to explain. So, I'll just keep on callin' 'til you pick up." She hung up the phone and squinted at the screen.

She didn't do the whole texting thing much. She texted Charlie sometimes and that was about it. She preferred talking yet she didn't feel like talking to Sharon at all.

Having to explain to the woman that her career might suddenly end, and that there was a ton of humiliation coming her way, wasn't something she could stomach.

So Brenda texted, her reading glasses perched low on her nose.

'We need to talk.'

She realized it sounded somewhat ominous once she had sent it but shrugged it off - she didn't have time for niceties.

By the end of the day Brenda hadn't heard from either Fritz or Sharon. She had left over 15 messages for him. So she stayed late at work until Gabriel poked his head in.

"Chief? You ready to go soon?"

"Oh, I completely forgot!" Brenda gathered her things immediately. "I'm so sorry, Detective."

"It's okay, Chief. Uh, do you need help with that?" He pointed at the giant stack of files she had gathered, paperwork mostly - she needed to keep busy.

"No, no, I'm fine." She picked the stack up and slung her purse over her shoulder.

In the car she said, "Just the hotel's fine." She glanced at Gabriel. "My car. It's still there."

David just drove. He knew she was lying. A tiny part of Brenda wished he'd just ask and she could tell him all about how she was screwing up her perfectly good life for no apparent reason. At the hotel she thanked him and went straight inside, not even keeping up the pretense.

She stopped at the restaurant and ate by herself, pouring over an old case file.

She called her Mama, making idle chit chat - her brother was selling the house to get something bigger, Charlie was doing real well, Daddy still loved the wrenches she got for him.

Then, as it was pitch black outside, Brenda prayed for a dead body.

Did that make her a bad person?

She laid on her side and cried into the pillow over her lost morals, her failed marriages and the confusing tendency towards sleeping with Sharon Raydor.

It was three days later when Fritz finally picked up the phone. Brenda could barely believe her luck.

"Hi," she said dumbly, her mouth suddenly dry. "Hi, Fritz." She didn't know what else to say or how to say it. Fritz was quiet for the longest time, all she could hear was his steady breathing.

"Brenda," he said. "I can't talk right now."

"Okay, um," she said slowly, "b-but when?"

"I can't. I don't know what I'll do...or say, I'm that angry."

Brenda sucked in a breath. "I want to explain, Fritzi, please."

"I'm not sure I want you to." He sighed on the other end and Brenda could make out the sounds of ringing phones and voices then he said, "Saturday. Come by the house on Saturday evening."

"Okay," Brenda nodded to herself. "I'll be there by six. And Fritzi, I-I really-"

"I can't do this right now. Just...just stop calling me."

He hung up. Brenda stared at the phone then buried her face in her hands. It was all getting a bit too much - she realized she was drowning in things she had zero control over. A job that she didn't want, forced on her, a marriage that probably wasn't even remotely salvageable-

What did he know, exactly? It drove her insane; not knowing just drove her crazy, and a small part of her wondered whether Fritz was keeping her in the dark on purpose.

He knew her, after all, perhaps better than anyone.

"Chief? A minute?" Taylor stood in her doorway, frowning.

"Oh, uh, sure, sure. Come on in, Commander."

Taylor entered, a thin folder in his hand. "I pulled the missing persons case file you asked for." He held it out to her and as she took it with a quiet 'thanks' he proceeded to sit down.

What now, Brenda thought. "Anything else, Commander?"

"It's about Chief Delk. The service is on Sunday, next week."

"Oh, good," Brenda opened her drawer and reached in blindly for a Twizzler.

"I realize that, maybe, it seems a little premature but I was, well, wondering if you had any idea who Chief Pope and, uh, you might pick to run your squad?"

The blonde chomped down on the Twizzler then threw it in the bin. "Certainly premature, Commander considerin' Chief Delk's not even in the ground yet."

Taylor didn't move. "I know it may seem insensitive but, Chief, I was just wondering." He shrugged and gave her one of his smiles that he usually reserved for the press. Then he turned serious. "The thing is, I've had about thirty years of public servitude, and I, quite frankly-"

"Had enough?" Brenda interrupted.

"Your words, not mine." He shrugged casually and adjusted his brightly colored tie. "What with Delk lifting the promotion freeze, and you moving up the ladder, the department's short a Deputy Chief," he said, pragmatic. "I also realize that, to run this division, I don't have to be promoted..."

"So, what you're sayin' is, you don't want my job if there's no promotion in it." Brenda pulled out a packet of M&Ms and proceeded to tear it open.

"What I'm saying is that if you decided not to, uh, take the promotion, that I'd be more than happy to and that I was hoping for your support, seeing as I have supported you, vigorously, in your bid to become Chief of Police."

Ah. Brenda spilled the M&Ms across her desk. "And report to you?" It came out a bit more sarcastic than she had meant but it was the truth - she'd be damned if he ever outranked her.

"Look," he said smoothly. "We all know you don't want to be Assistant Chief. But if you decided to stay with the department, all I'm askin' is that you think of me because I've earned," he stressed that, "Earned! A promotion. Deputy Chief. Maybe the new Special Operations task force Delk's been putting together, hm?"

"S.O.B.?"

"Exactly."

Brenda sighed. "Commander..."

"Just think about it. I mean, Commander McGinnis would make a good replacement."

"McGinnis?"

"Well," Taylor said as he got up. "I've taken up enough of your time." He smiled again then stopped at the door. "Oh, uh, by the way. If you decided to...explore other avenues, I heard the FBI's looking."

"The FBI?"

"Mmhm. Section Chief. Some sort of task force, you know how it is...dime a dozen."