Opposite!

The crime scene was located on a busy highway, of all places, and Brenda wished it had all happened about two miles further north because then she could have just called the Sheriff's Department and handed the whole thing over to them.

Provenza spotted them as they passed the tape, Elliott hot on his heels.

A young officer sat on the back of an ambulance, crying, the fire department was slicing open a car, popping the top and peeling it back like a sardine can. Taylor was there organizing traffic with the Traffic Division.

"I can barely hear myself think!" Sharon shouted over the cacophony.

My thought exactly, Brenda grumped internally. "Lieutenant!"

Provenza sidled up to them, his expression severely harassed as they walked along. "Chief!"

"What happened?!"

A helicopter chose that moment to fly over and by the looks of things, Brenda thought, it wasn't going to be the last.

"Let's talk in my Command Post!" Sharon yelled and pointed towards the big 18 wheeler parked smack in the middle of all the chaos. The foursome trekked across the scene and stepped inside. As Elliott closed the door, he effectively shut out the noise.

"What in the world is goin' on here?"

"Well, Chief...Captain, you see-"

"I think what the Lieutenant is trying to say is that this is what a high speed chase gone wrong looks like," Sharon supplied. "Did we have a helicopter on the chase?"

"Yes," Elliott said, "We're still waiting for the recording though."

"Lieutenant, why don't we ask Chief Pope to hurry this along a bit?"

"Sure thing, Chief." Provenza whipped out his phone and dialed. While he spoke, Sharon gave her a tight smile.

"Thank you, Chief." Then she turned to Elliott again, nonchalant. "What do we know so far?"

"Four units were giving chase to a vehicle that had failed to stop for a traffic violation-"

"What kind of violation?" Brenda interjected.

The tall, dark haired Sergeant startled at the tone, he wasn't used to it, what with Sharon's usually polite and even tempered manner. "Ran a stop sign."

"All this for a stop sign?"

Sharon gave her a pointed look - she apparently agreed. "The driver?"

"Alive. Barely. He rear-ended another car, which ended up in the ditch then, according to the officers involved, they boxed him in and he ran straight into the barrier."

Brenda frowned - this wasn't how she had envisioned her Saturday night. She had had a date with a bottle of Merlot and Chinese take out. "And, what exactly, is Major Crimes doin' here anyhow? Seems to me that y'all have it all covered."

"The thing is, Chief," Provenza said, phone call finished. "A body just...popped out of the trunk."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Brenda hoisted her purse up higher, huffing. "So this guy's drivin' 'round town with a body in the trunk, runs a stop sign and then-"

"No, no," Provenza interrupted. "The body was in the other car. The one in the ditch."

"Oh, for heaven's sakes," she said again. "What are the chances of that?"

"Indeed," Sharon murmured.

"Just look at it this way: if the guy hadn't ran and the officers hadn't pursued, we'd probably never even have known about the body in the first place."

Brenda found that little fact to be of no consolation whatsoever.

"However," Sharon chimed in, "this makes it much easier to determine who will take lead on this investigation which will be FID, seeing as the majority of the scene is immediately related to the chase and consequent result thereof."

Brenda blinked. "Fine," she said, surprising everyone which she found terribly amusing. "You want it, you can have it."

"Perfect!"

"Now, Lieutenant, where's the driver of our body car?"

"Still in the car, dead."

"Great."

"He wasn't a priority...until, well, the body dropped out."

"Okay, well, why don't you drag Flynn away from whichever FID personnel he's currently harassin' and have him hurry along the coroner. I want wallets, IDs, everything, from both the driver and the body in the trunk."

"You got it, Chief."

"Have Detective Gabriel run the plates on the vehicle. Is Buzz ready?"

"He should be here any minute now."

Brenda nodded then looked at Raydor. "As soon as you receive the helicopter footage, I would like to have a look at that."

"Of course."

"And have Sanchez interview the witnesses with you."

"Sergeant, take Sanchez with you, start with the responding vehicles."

Elliott nodded and headed out immediately, not one to waste time.

"Okay," Brenda sighed, getting her thoughts into some semblance of order. She glanced around the command truck and its high tech interior then at Provenza. "The car was rear-ended?"

"Uh huh."

"Then the first thing we need to figure out is whether the body was placed in the trunk, already dead or if there was a person in there that died durin' the collision."

Sharon cleared her throat. "You may have access to the chase vehicle."

"How very gracious of you, Cap'n," Brenda dead-panned. "But let's start with the body, Lieutenant." As Provenza made no move to leave, she lifted her eyebrows at him, prompting. "What is it?" Really, she thought, they didn't have time to stand around and make idle chit chat.

"Since you're both here, I'd like to have a moment to...uh...have a hypothetical, uh, conversation," he said slowly, eyes averted and hands stuffed into his pockets like a little school boy.

"How about we skip the hypothetical and you can just come out with whatever seems to be botherin' you so much."

Beside her, Sharon rolled her eyes.

"Well, Chief," he said, "what with you staying at the hotel-"

"Oooh, Detective Gabriel!"

"-and the two of you arriving together and, well, things people observed..." He shrugged.

Brenda, out of the corner of her eye, saw Sharon looking at her but the blonde refused to show a similar reaction. "What are you sayin', Lieutenant?"

"Well...I'm usually not one to meddle-" Brenda rolled her eyes at that. "-but I think it is my duty to mention that it would be a good idea if you were a bit more...discreet."

Sharon cleared her throat, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her trench coat now. She looked decidedly uncomfortable with where this was going and as much as she hated having her personal life examined, especially when it came to the more intimate details, Brenda had to know what he knew.

"In English, Lieutenant."

"I've read the notebooks," he said, "And it's plain obvious that CJ is you." He looked a tad angry. "And then I get your Sergeant in my ear about your car being at the house, again."

Right. Brenda felt her face go hot as she remembered that time he had come by to pick Sharon up and Sharon had made it plainly obvious that someone was hiding out in her bedroom.

"He passes my house on his way to his mother's," Sharon said quietly. The first thing that had come out of her mouth during this whole ordeal. "He visits her every Friday."

"When I was over for dinner last night," Brenda concluded.

"Well. I know what I know and Elliott knows what he knows," Provenza said tersely. "But people talk. Now. I don't give a damn about whatever it is you're doing but I'm running out of explanations whenever Elliott is yapping on about it."

Brenda crossed her arms and nibbled on her lip. Were they that obvious? There were a whole lot of questions she didn't dare ask. Instead she said, "Okay. Thank you, Lieutenant, for pointin' this out to us."

Provenza looked shocked at her nonchalance but, wisely, decided against saying any more. "I'll get, uh, Flynn to hurry the coroner along." He left after that.

"What? That's it?" Sharon practically screeched.

"What do you want me to do, Sharon? Put him on leave because he figured out we were sleepin' together?" What a mess. "You might wanna tell your Sergeant to stop runnin' his mouth, too-"

"Oh, great."

"Look at it this way: soon I won't be workin' with you anymore-"

"Yes," Sharon interrupted. "You get to swan off while I get to deal with the knowing looks." She stopped her outburst long enough to take a deep breath then let it out slowly as a long sigh. "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"We both made a mess of things...and we'll just have to deal with all this as and when." Brenda reached out and squeezed Sharon's hand.

"We?"

"Yes. We."

The door flew open and their hands separated. Elliott stepped in, followed by Sanchez. She saw the discomfort on Elliott's face although she had to look closely, but she knew that Sharon saw it, too.

"Captain," he said. "They took one of the officers to the hospital."

"What for?"

"Whiplash or some such thing."

"Well. Go! Take Sanchez with you, I'll interview the rest," Sharon urged.

"I'll get Gabriel to go along with you," Brenda suggested. "Detective Sanchez, you heard the Captain."

"Yes, Chief."

The pair dashed off and Brenda was left to look at Sharon again. "Okay. Alright then. Thank you, Sharon."

"Oof," Brenda collapsed onto the bed, still wearing her clothes and trench coat. Her purse landed next to her with a muffled thud. Groaning as her body throbbed pleasantly as the muscles relaxed, Brenda went in search for something, anything, edible.

She hadn't eaten since breakfast and there hadn't really been time after they had left the scene. Elliott had called her not long after returning to the Murder Room that they had received the helicopter footage.

Tao had downloaded it and she had watched it on his computer. The eyewitness accounts had been fairly accurate, at least.

As she nibbled on the granola bar she had picked up that morning and forgotten about, her phone started ringing. Sighing, she looked at the screen.

"Yes, Sharon?"

"Hi," the brunette sounded surprised. "I just wanted to...inform you that, upon Chief Pope's urging, we have released the scene."

Brenda snorted. "He was gettin' antsy 'bout the cost of closing a major highway all night."

"Every minute, Captain, is costing us my months' salary," Sharon grumped in an imitation of Will. "I had your murder car towed to the yard, by the way."

Brenda crossed her legs, rubbing her feet against each other and looked disdainfully at the granola bar. "Thanks. Whole lotta good that did us."

"Stolen?"

"Mmh hm. No ID on either body and Morales can't get to 'em 'til tomorrow mornin', which means I won't be gettin' the ten card 'til then either."

"Gosh," Sharon said airily. "Disaster!"

"I know!" She chuckled and curled up on her side. "Did I tell you 'bout Taylor and his pompous suggestions?"

"What pompous suggestions? There's too many to keep track of, quite frankly."

Brenda snorted. "Apparently my job's not good enough for him. He said that, if I end up as Assistant Chief, he don't want it. He musta heard something because he wants S.O.B."

"S.O.B.?" Sharon chuckled. "If the shoe fits..."

"That's what I thought."

"Shame his carefully laid plans will be thwarted."

Another perusal of her purse produced a lone Ding Dong which Brenda found much more palatable. "You realize, when I quit, he'll be Assistant Chief. I'm just grateful I won't be 'round to witness it." Licking some fluffy white filling off her finger, Brenda turned onto her back.

"He suggested McGinnis as my replacement..."

"Ha! You realize Pope will appoint Commander Dolan-"

"Who is completely incompetent!"

"Yes! Thank you!"

"Over my dead body," Brenda grumped.

"It won't be me at least, not over Pope's dead body...and not that I was expecting...well."

Brenda just bit her lip. "I don't even wanna think about it. My squad headed by somebody else? When I don't even know where I'm gonna be?"

"I'm sorry, Brenda."

"Yes, well, maybe something'll come up."

"I wanted to mention," Sharon said slowly. "I know it would probably involve more paperwork that you're used to...or any human being can cope with but Andrea Hobbs mentioned that they're looking for a Chief Investigator at the District Attorney's Office."

"God," Brenda groaned. "I remember that incompetent oaf, what's-his-face? Why is it that we're surrounded by incompetent oafs all over?"

"That's why I'm the women's coordinator. There's plenty of capable women who get passed over while half as competent men are awarded promotions that they don't deserve."

"Apparently I'm too loud mouthed to be passed over, or so I've been told."

Sharon laughed at that. "I can't believe somebody said that to you...albeit true."

"My supervisor...at the CIA. I got him into all sorts of trouble."

"You never talk much about that," the brunette said quietly.

"Non-disclosure agreements will do that to ya." Brenda crumpled up the Ding Dong wrapper and tossed it in the general direction of the trash.

"Do you miss it?"

"No," she said immediately. "Not ever."

"How did they recruit you? I mean, I'm sure you didn't fill out an application for CIA training in interrogation."

"I didn't. They approached me when I was at Georgetown. It was all very hush hush. I hated sayin' I worked for the State Department. But then people never asked any questions 'cause no one really knows what that even means."

"What does that mean?"

Brenda grinned. "Just a bunch 'a suits drinkin' coffee all day long."

On the other end, Sharon laughed, the sound making Brenda's toes tingle.

"So. You're sellin' the house?"

The brunette sighed. "Yes. I just can't..."

"Feel safe there?"

"Yes. I put it on the market the next day. Thank you for the clean up crew, by the way."

"Might wanna thank Pope. I made him pay for it."

"The LAPD, you mean?"

"Tomater, tomater."

"They sounded exactly the same, you realize that?"

Brenda shrugged. "As long as somebody paid for it, it don't matter how I say tomater." She dug into her bag again, searching. "Why is there nothin' to eat in there?"

"Are you back at the hotel?"

"The Hyatt. Wanna hear somethin' funny?"

"What's that?"

"It's where I lived when I first moved here. I'm sure Fritz did it on purpose."

Sharon stayed quiet and Brenda immediately felt bad, reminding herself that they weren't just friends, that Sharon had feelings for her, and that hearing about her possibly vengeful husband wasn't helping.

"I'm sorry-"

"I'm just leaving, actually-"

"You're still at the office?"

"-if you want to grab a bite? I haven't eaten either."

"Um..."

"Never mind," Sharon said quickly. "That's probably a bad idea. In fact, it's a very bad idea."

"No...no, I could eat. The bar downstairs is still serving."

She could hear the smile in the brunette's voice as she responded. "Liquid dinner?"

"Or something. They have tapas, apparently."

"Ooooh," Sharon cooed. "Now you're talking. I'll be there in about half an hour."

"Great. I'll meet you there."

Brenda made it down in just under twenty minutes. She had changed into a pair of black slacks and her feel-good cardigan.

She entered the bar, knowing Sharon couldn't have possibly made it there already and took a seat at a small bistro table. By the time she had arranged her purse, that had gotten its very own seat, and had rummaged for her cell phone, the bar tender had already poured her a glass of Merlot.

"Thanks." She gave him a winning smile. "And a glass of, um, Chardonnay, I guess. I'm-I'm expecting someone."

As he left, Brenda wondered whether having a standing order for Merlot meant that she drank too much. At least, she thought, she wasn't drinking by herself tonight. She had a friend, thank you very much.

Sharon arrived only minutes later, still in her work clothes from earlier. She smiled when she spotted Brenda yet the exhaustion was plainly visible on her features. The brunette shucked out of her trench, draping it over the back of the purse's chair and sat with a huff.

"Ooooh, wine!" She exclaimed and picked up the glass of chilled Chardonnay.

"You don't even wanna know what it is?"

Sharon grinned. "Do I look like I care?" She took a delicate sip and seemed to find it sufficient. "Today was the worst what with Pope breathing down my neck like a rabid dog and two investigations to manage and then-" She stopped and bit her lip, continuing in a much quiet voice. "And then Lieutenant Provenza's little speech."

"I know. How's Elliott? Did'y'all talk?"

Sharon nodded. "Somewhat. Vaguely." She sighed. "And that was perhaps the most awkward conversation I've ever had."

"What did you say?"

"I'd really rather not talk about it. I feel like everyone knows. I feel like...I should quit, too."

"You're not gonna quit," Brenda screeched. "And no one knows anythin'! Did you not listen to Provenza?"

"I did," Sharon replied evenly. "Did you?"

"Yes. Now, Sharon, I really, really need you to keep it together until I've quit so that all these rumors Lieutenant Provenza talked about stay just that. Once I'm gone, everyone will just forget about it all and you can just go about your business as usual."

Sharon traced the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger, sullen. "That's easy for you to say."

"It ain't. I need to find a new job before you launch into a full-blown panic attack."

"...okay. I'll keep it together as long as you promise me not to do anything stupid."

"Who? Me?" Brenda joked. "Trust me, Sharon, I can take care of myself. Too well, sometimes." The blonde looked down at her wine glass, realizing how true that actually was.

She always ended up with what she wanted and often people just stayed in the peripheral view of her narrow-minded selfishness.

"I'm sorry," Brenda said because, clearly, Sharon wasn't going to bring it up. "About last night."

"Here we go..." The brunette murmured. "I had hoped we could forget it ever happened. Quite frankly."

Blushing, Brenda averted her gaze again. "Oh."

"Yes...and I'm not trying to make excuses for you. I should have just said 'no'. Not for your benefit but for mine. By now, I know what you're like."

What I'm like? Brenda had heard that before. She had many faults, she was aware of that, but sometimes it was harder to see them from someone else's point of view. Like Fritz's...or Sharon's, of whom she had taken advantage, again.

"Just because you feel bad, Brenda, doesn't mean I'm readily available to make you feel better. To put it plainly."

"I know that," the blonde said, ashamed. "I know. And I keep makin' that mistake."

Mistake? Perhaps a stronger word would have been a better choice.

"You have feelins for me, which I maybe did know, too, and I shouldn't take-"

"For god's sake," Sharon groused. "Just because I feel more for you than friendship doesn't mean I'm completely incapable of making rational and, I admit, less rational decisions myself. Honestly, I was waiting for you to apologize for what a horrible, horrible person you are but honey, that, to me, is just plain patronizing."

Taken aback, slack jawed, Brenda could all but stare.

"Now you know. And don't get me wrong, I could actually, really kill you sometimes."

"Oh," Brenda said, contrite.

"The sad part is, I'm not even angry with you. I promised myself I wouldn't do this anymore. I hate what sleeping with you makes me and every time I let myself have this...you, have you, it takes something out of me, something so intangible yet something so profound that I can't even recognize myself in the mirror the next day."

As much as Brenda knew that feeling, she had never had it when she had gotten out of bed the next day and had looked at herself in the mirror over Sharon's bathroom sink. She had always looked different, as if she was seeing herself in a new light, clear and sharp.

"Brenda?"

The blonde's eyes shot up; she had been staring into space. "I'm sorry."

"Where did you go?"

"Oh..." Brenda blinked against the tears in her eyes, the disappointing realization that Sharon didn't feel the same. How ridiculous. "Just...I-I never felt that way about it."

Sharon studied her, her gaze piercing and hard then her eyes softened. "Oh," she cooed. "I guess we do have something in common."

"Yeah," Brenda drawled and chugged her wine like it was going out of fashion.

Sharon looked around the deserted bar then just smiled. "So. You said something about tapas..?"

As they ate, both tired, grumpy and exhausted, Brenda contemplated Sharon's words. It was true, all of it. Sharon was her own person but Brenda, sometimes, had a hard time leaving people to just themselves.

She meddled too much and, of course, her opinion was always the one that mattered most. She used people. She influenced them with strategically placed words - lies, mostly - to get what she wanted.

She did it to Fritz. And to Will; all of the time.

She had tried to do it to Sharon, too, countless times. And more often than not, all the lies blended into the truth, spreading slowly, blurring the lines.

Maybe she wasn't this big, bad person. Maybe she didn't have as much power as she thought.

Maybe Sharon did exactly what Sharon wanted.

Much like Brenda herself.

"Will? You got a minute?" Brenda entered his office, closing the door and wiped her sweaty hands down her black slacks - the last clean pair.

"Actually, no. I've got the Commissioner coming," he looked at his watch, "in twenty minutes to go over the funeral service, again, and to undoubtedly talk about the massive pile up the LAPD is suddenly responsible for." He shook his head. "How's that going, by the way?"

"Oh. Um. Cap'n Raydor's handlin' that part. I'm just lookin' into the body in the trunk. Actually," she said slowly. "I've just come from the autopsy and we're runnin' the prints as we speak."

"Great. At least I know it's getting done within 72 hours," he chuckled and dropped into his chair. "That's the last thing I need..."

"Will, I really need to talk to you."

"Can it wait?"

Brenda wanted to say yes but shook her head. "It's important." She knew she had to do this today. Fritz was waiting for some sort of action on her part and, since this was his only demand, she had to fulfill it.

It had occured to her last night, as she sat eating tapas and drinking wine with Sharon that, instead of precisely that, she should be working out a way to make things better with Fritz. She should be thinking about him and their marriage.

"Okay, but this better not be another crisis I have to handle."

"Depends how you look at it, I s'pose." Brenda smiled, suddenly feeling vulnerable and self-conscious as she sat opposite him. "It's about the promotion."

"And I told you, there's nothing I can do. It'll look entirely too-"

"I quit," Brenda said. It came out in a rush, garbled, so she said it again. "I quit, Will."

"What?!" He hit the roof, Brenda had known he would. It was understandable, really. "You're quitting because you don't want to be promoted?"

"Noooo, Will. No."

"Then why, pray tell, is the next Assistant Chief of Police quitting before she even took office?"

"I think it might be better if you didn't know why...exactly. It's more of a personal thing." He hated that, 'personal things'.

"Are you pregnant?"

"What? You can't ask me that!"

"So you're pregnant."

"I am not pregnant, Will."

"Your parents are fine?"

"Yes, yes-"

"You're not sick, are you?"

"No!" Brenda rubbed her temples; she felt nauseous again. "No, Will."

He seemed calmer now, after his outburst.

"No. I am not sick. Look, Will-"

"Then, please, please, pretty please explain to me why you think it's in your best interest to quit?"

Brenda swallowed then her mouth opened and what came out, she wished she could stuff right back in. "I had an affair, okay? I had an affair with someone I work with and now Fritz wants me to quit."

Will fell back into his chair, slack jawed. "An affair, you? With whom? Wait! No, don't answer that because if it's anyone from your squad, I'd have to report you."

"It's not anyone from Major Crimes. Okay? Nothin' has been compromised, 'cept for my marriage, so, I have to quit-"

"Oh, god, Brenda," Will rubbed his face. "What did you do?"

The blonde closed her eyes. "I've asked myself that very same question." Now that it was all out in the open, Brenda felt instantly better. Her stomach had stopped churning and her head had stopped throbbing. Was that relief? It sure felt like it. "So. I will write my resignation and hand it in tomorrow mornin'. Two weeks should be enough since you've got Taylor lined up to jump in my grave."

"What are you even going to do? Can you afford to live on Fritz's salary?"

"The DA is lookin' for a new Chief Investigator or so I've heard."

Will shook his head. "Now, don't get me wrong, but, are you crazy?"

"What?"

"That's a huge step down from Assistant Chief. Do you know what that's going to look like? For me and for you?"

Brenda scoffed. "In the big scheme of things, as you know, I don't really care much about appearances."

"Well, I do. This is going to reflect badly on me. What do you think will happen when my own vetted outside hire decides to quit just as I'm about to become Chief?"

"Oh," Brenda said, "so you're gonna throw me under the bus to make yourself look better? Is that it?"

"Conduct unbecoming. An ethics inquiry. The second time, Brenda. How about that?"

"I can't believe you'd do that to me, Will," she said quietly, tears threatening to fall. "After everything-"

"What? You've done for me?"

Her anger catapulted her out of her chair. "Exactly! After everthin', I never, ever stabbed you in the back even though I had plenty of reason to do so. I helped you when Estelle stomped into my Murder Room. I helped you when Ramos tried to dismantle everythin' you built - on my back! I helped you when you applied for Chief and treated me like some sort of traitor for tryin' to better myself and I helped you when your job was on the line."

Brenda picked up her purse and flung it over her shoulder. "What horrible thang did I ever do to you to deserve this?!"

Body shaking with nothing less but fury, Brenda was ready to waltz out of that room and never come back, never even look back.

She should have expected this, after all.

"You're right," Will said.

Now that, Brenda thought, she hadn't expected.

"Here." Will opened his drawer and pulled out a stack of papers. "This is what we're going to do."

Eyes trained firmly onto the papers, Brenda sank back into the chair. "What's that?"

"Your new job," Pope said. "With the FBI."

"My new job?"

"Yep. It's not official yet but there's a new Task Force in the making. It's a step up...at least."

Ah. So that's where Taylor had heard about it but Brenda decided to keep that little tidbit to herself, saving it for a later date. "You wanted to quit?"

Will nodded. "I was going to apply but then, well, Chief Delk, uh...you know." He shoved the papers across the desk.

"How can you be sure they'll pick me?"

"Because they were going to pick me."

All of it made little sense but Brenda picked up the application forms anyway.

"Apply. And stay, until the FBI announces their plans. That way it'll look like you left for a bigger, better office and not because of my becoming Chief, yet you were gracious enough to stick it out with us."

"And that's how we're gonna play it?" Brenda said evenly, stunned as she leafed through the application.

"That's exactly how we'll play it. It'll work out for everyone. And," he held up his finger, "it gives you time to train your replacement, aka Taylor, who will be, undoubtedly, loving you more than a kid loves candy."

"Undoubtedly." Stuffing the papers into her purse, Brenda decided that Fritz would have to just suck it up. They couldn't afford to lose more than half their income. And he couldn't afford to suggest otherwise. "Okay. But."

"But?"

"If I agree to this, I wanna...pick who's gonna head Major Crimes."

"Okay," Will shrugged as if it were of little importance to him. "I thought Dolan would-"

"Not Dolan," Brenda said firmly.

"...okay." He said and frowned.

"Yes." Brenda nodded. "And there's also a list of female officers that I'd like you to look at."

"Fine."

"And, uh, I need you to promise me to not retire Provenza."

Will snorted. "That's on your agenda?"

"It is." She nodded vigorously. "He is a valuable asset."

"Okay, fine."

Brenda nodded; she couldn't believe what she had just done. What she had just agreed to. "Oh, uh, that new job...what is it?"

Will chuckled, "Missing Persons."

"Missing Persons?"

"Yeah. Section Chief. You'll be overseeing a new Task Force comprised of Cyber, Missing Persons and Behavioral Science, headed by, uh, some psychiatrist. Never mind."

"Oh, my..."

"Hilarious, considering you'll be doing the job you don't want...just at the FBI."

Will started laughing and Brenda rolled her eyes all the way back to Major Crimes.