Brenda is up before Fritz so she starts the coffee and is sitting in the kitchen when he wakes up, lured by the smell. She's got her chin resting in her hand at the table and she's just thinking things through. She'll get a briefing first thing this morning from Cooper and his team about the warehouse and the flyer she'd procured.

"Listovka," she says softly to herself, moving her mouth slowly around the word. It had been nice to slip into another language again, yesterday. Like going back in time.

"Huh?" Fritz asks from the doorway to the kitchen. She looks up from her half empty mug and shakes her head.

"Nothin'," she says. "Just thinkin' out loud."

"Did you sleep okay?" he asks, crossing the linoleum to fix his own cup.

"I guess so," she says. "Why?"

"You just seemed restless," he says. "You were mumbling in your sleep."

"I think I'm just worried," she says, giving him a tense smile, as if that might be enough to reassure him. "We don't know a lot about these people, this party, this trafficking ring… and I don't feel a hundred percent about Sharon going in there."

"Raydor's tough as nails," Fritz says, sitting across from her with his dark coffee. He'd been cutting back recently, she'd noticed. No cream in his coffee, no sweets after dinner. He'd been running more. She keeps meaning to ask him about it but something always comes up and there's absolutely nothing wrong with him wanting to take better care of himself. She's just a little curious as to why. But not enough to bring it up now.

"She's not very experienced undercover, that's all," Brenda says. "And the man yesterday, the father of the warehouse owner. He just seemed… he didn't like her, but he seemed interested."

"You think Raydor's the target?"

"I don't know," she says. "I just don't want anything to happen to her, that's all. That's the last thing I need! If she got hurt on one of my operations! Her ghost'll haunt me forever!"

"I think it's great you two are getting along," Fritz says. "She may not have spy on her resume like some people-"

"I was an analyst, not a spy."

"-but she's definitely someone who will watch your back. You need that," Fritz says. "When's the last time you had a female friend?"

She scowls into her mug, slouching a little in her seat. She gets this lecture enough from her mama and daddy, she doesn't need it from Fritz, too.

"I don't hardly have time for friends anyway," she says.

"Regardless," Fritz says, grabbing his mug and standing up. "She's good people. I'm gonna take a shower."

His words needle at her long after she hears the shower start. She knows it's because there's truth in what he'd said. Raydor is tough, she's smart and has already proven that she's got Brenda's best interests at heart. Professional interests. But Brenda had been telling the truth too. She doesn't have time for friends - she barely has time for Fritz and he's the only friend she's got that doesn't work for her.

She wanders into the bedroom, knowing she needs to start getting ready for work. She glances into the bathroom where she can see Fritz's outline through the door of the shower. He still looks pretty good, but they've settled into the marriage now and while there was a time she wouldn't have hesitated to climb in there with him, now she doesn't even consider it.

Most nights she'll choose sleep or work over intimacy and sometimes when they do make love, it feels more like maintenance than romance. Sometimes she catches her mind wandering. But he's a good man and she understands that when she'd married him, she'd be giving up on other, unfulfilled desires. That's what marriage is - deciding to do one thing and sticking with it.

In her closet, she looks around. Dresses and sweater sets, pinks and teals and powder blues. She tries to imagine what Sharon might think if she walked in here and saw the options. She'd scoff, probably, a throaty noise. She looks around. If she were Sharon, if Sharon were here, what would she pick for Brenda to wear?

Slacks, probably. She reaches toward the back, pulls out one of her few business suits. The black pinstripe - and an ivory silk blouse to go with it. The slacks are a little long when she pulls them up over her hips, she'll have to wear more than a kitten heel, but that's okay.

She's still pinning up her hair when Fritz comes out, searching for boxers.

"You have another undercover thing today?" he asks, pausing to look her over.

"No," she says. "Why?"

"You just… usually don't break out the suit, that's all," he says.

"You don't like it?" she asks, fretting. She pushes the last pin into place and turns to look at him, standing in boxers with a towel around his shoulders.

"You look amazing," he says. "Just not like yourself."

"We just have all these briefings," she says. "About what to expect. I don't want the other divisions to think I'm some dumb blonde."

"No one thinks that," Fritz says. She lets him lean in and kiss her cheek.

"Thanks," she says, but she doesn't feel certain.

When she gets to the office, she stops by her office to turn on her computer and check her email, to snag a cup of coffee before heading to SOB. They have all the fancy techy equipment so they're going to have their briefing there.

Brenda calls for the elevator and when it opens, coming down from a higher floor, Sharon is on it and she's also wearing a black suit with pinstripes.

"Seriously?" Sharon says. "Again?"

Brenda just rolls her eyes and steps on. "How many men are in this building right now that are wearing a blue or black or gray suit?"

Sharon sticks her arm out of the elevator, stopping the doors before they close and says, "Come on."

"We're gonna be late," Brenda complains, but follows her anyway saying, "Who cares if we match?"

"It might not be important to you," Sharon says, stalking through the murder room and into Brenda's office. "But I'd rather not play into the idea that there's one kind of woman that rises in the ranks of police departments."

"Cold hearted lesbians in masculine suits?" Brenda asks.

Sharon's mouth tightens.

"We both got roped into this," Brenda says. "No one is going think you're a lesbian just because you're goin' undercover as one."

"That isn't the point!" she says. "The point is I don't want anyone speculating about my personal life. It's easy for you - you're married, everyone knows Agent Howard and you have a big rock on your finger. No one whispers about you behind your back."

"Not about who I'm sleepin' with, anyway," Brenda says, slipping off her suit jacket. Sharon fights a smile, she can see it. "I thought you were married. You have kids, I thought?"

"Yes," Sharon says, taking the jacket from her hand slipping it onto the back of one of the chairs at the conference table. "I have two. And I am technically married but people know that… we're not… people know Jackson."

"I don't know him," Brenda points out, opening the cupboard and pulling out her spare sweater.

"That's because you're new," Sharon says. Brenda slips on the sweater, a dark navy. She doesn't usually put blue and black together, but she doesn't have a lot of choices and Sharon nods at her. "Better."

"Listen," Brenda says, putting her hands on her hips. "It's not because people think you're a lesbian that they don't like you, it's the job they dislike. And also your attitude. But I never once thought you were gay and even if you were, I wouldn't care."

"Well," Sharon says. "I feel so, so, so much better. Thank you, Brenda."

"That's not… that maybe came out wrong."

"Maybe," she says.

"And anyway, more joint operations like this can only be good for you. You were hard to like at first, but even I can admit you grow on a person."

"Please," Sharon says. "I don't know how many more compliments from you I can handle."

"Okay, we're already running late, we can talk this out later, Captain," she says.

"Can't wait," Sharon says.

Everyone is already in the special ops conference room when they arrive, and no one comments on their clothes because they're all professionals and it's Sharon that has gone off her rocker, in Brenda's opinion. There's one empty chair, though several people are standing. She's never seen so many women in one room in this building before.

Brenda takes the chair, Sharon melts against the wall, her arms crossed. But Brenda does spare her a glance and it's more than just a passing one. She does look good in that suit, is easily the most striking woman in a line of women along the wall, despite being at least ten years older than them all.

"You ready to start, Chief?" she hears Cooper ask. Sharon untucks long enough to twirl a finger at Brenda, telling her to turn around. She spins and sees most everyone look at her.

"Yes, by all means, please." She smiles. "Dazzle me, Lieutenant."

Between the blueprints of the warehouse they'd gotten from the city and the footage from their cameras, they have a good idea of layout. Cooper goes over all the exits, where the undercover officers will be stationed, as well as officers outside of the warehouse and the FBI van.

"Shouldn't Agent Howard be here if this is a join operation?" Sharon says from behind Brenda. This time, Brenda refuses to look at her.

"It's not," Cooper says. But we're letting them tag along in case any confession or evidence ties our kidnappings to their trafficking ring."

"Which obviously is going to happen," Brenda mutters.

It's Micki Mendoza who goes over the flyer that Brenda had procured.

"Thank you, Chief Johnson," she says. "With this, now we know that our informant has at least told us some truth. The party promotion company on this flyer is owned by none other than Iosif Sokolav, son of Marat Sokolav, this lovely fellow." She points to the screen where a still from Brenda's bodycam shows the man from the warehouse.

"Three of the last five girls have been taken from parties hosted by Iosif Sokolav's company," says Cooper.

"The warehouse is currently owned by a company owned by… wait for it…" Micki says, pulling up a new picture. "This man. Pasha Sokolov. Marat's brother."

"Wait, that's…" Will snaps.

"We know him as Peter Stewart," Cooper says. "He Americanized his name for business dealings. Peter Stewart is who our informant implicated as a big fish in this trafficking ring. If we get a member of the Sokolav family, we can turn them over to the FBI and throw a real wrench into their operation."

"So our goal is stop the kidnappings on our soil but for the actual sex trafficking we're just, what? Hoping for the best?" Sharon asks.

"Captain-" Will says, his voice a dangerous tone.

"She's right," Brenda jumps in. She knows better than to let Will hit his stride. "I mean, you're asking us to go out and twist like a worm on a hook, I don't think it's askin' too much to bring in the FBI to make this a real joint operation so we can do more good than we're doin'."

"Chief Johnson," Will says.

"It's no use poolin' all these resources to kill one roach when there's a whole hive somewhere else," she argues. "If we're gonna this, we ought to do it once and do it right."

"An intrusion," Sharon says.

Now everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" says Brenda.

"A group of cockroaches is called an intrusion, not a hive," she says.

"Yes, thank you, Sharon," she says.

"Hey, I want to bring down the bad guys as much as the rest of you, but we have two days and not a lot of time, so if you ask me, I'd rather catch someone than lose everyone all together," Cooper says. "But you have the ear of the FBI, Chief Johnson, so if you think you can secure us more help then by all means."

"I'll see if they can give us any more than a van," Brenda says.

"Now," Micki says. "Marat Sokolov knows Chief Johnson and Captain Raydor so there's no sense in them trying to blend in but the rest of us…"

And she launches into some long winded talk about dress code and the buddy system, about the kind of gear they'll be wearing and what to expect should someone disappear, what kind of information to try to gather should the kidnapping fail to go down.

"Chief Johnson, Captain Raydor," Will says when everyone is dismissed. "Stay for a moment."

And then it's just Will and Taylor, Cooper, Brenda and Sharon. And Micki Mendoza who looks supremely uncomfortable.

"Why don't you two take Detective Mendoza out to lunch," Pope says before turning on his heel and leaving.

Brenda glances at Sharon who looks equally perplexed. Cooper claps Mendoza on the shoulder and heads for the door, Taylor following him out.

"Um," Micki says. "So, I'm supposed to brief you two separately."

"No lunch?" Brenda asks.

"I mean… I thought that was just…"

"This will go better if we feed her," Sharon says.

"Yes, ma'am," Micki says. "Ma'ams."

Again, Brenda defers to Sharon, but she doesn't take them far. They just ride the elevator down to street level and cross the street to one of the sandwich shops. Micki gets a turkey sandwich, Sharon orders a salad. Brenda splits the difference and gets a wrap and insists on paying for it all. It'll be helpful to have these women like her at least until this operation is over. Even she can manage a temporary cease fire, she thinks. Despite Sharon's snide, insubordinate tone and general disdain for whatever Brenda is wearing, they have been getting along fairly well. For them.

"Detective Mendoza," Sharon says after a few moments of awkward silence. "Why don't you go ahead and tell us what you need to tell us."

"I think we both can tell you're gettin' orders from above, here," Brenda adds. Sharon nods encouragingly.

"It's about the party," Micki says. "I wasn't kidding when I said it would be better if you guys stood out a little."

"We can do that," Brenda says. "It's easier, really, then blending in."

"I've been to these sorts of parties before," Micki says and then hesitates, colors. "Not always as an undercover cop."

"Ah," Sharon says.

"Chief Pope wants me to help you, uh… look the part."

Micki shoves a bite of sandwich into her mouth.

"I swear I have never talked about clothes as much as I have this week," Brenda says, leaning back.

"Not that your mean librarian and REI employee looks weren't nice," Micki says. "But if you want to get noticed at a warehouse rave, probably we need to go flashier."

Brenda snorts, stops only when Sharon levels her a look over her glasses. Mean librarian indeed. Brenda doesn't feel slandered by the dig at her own outfit - those clothes weren't hers. They're still in her hamper, however. She'll have to wash them, give them back. Maybe she can send Buzz up to FID with them and wash her hands of the whole situation. That'll be nice, once this is all said and done.

"Okay," Sharon says. "What should we wear."

"Um, tight?" Micki says. "Lots of skin? Bright things, things that will catch the light. Things you can move in, dance. You're gonna have to dance."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Brenda mutters. She hasn't danced at a club in over ten years.

"Skirts only if they're short. Vests are always good. Maybe for you, Captain. Chief, I think you're too well endowed for a vest." Micki looks like she's horrified with herself for saying it but Brenda just elbows Sharon in the arm.

"Told you."

Micki doesn't ask.

"Write up some guidelines, find some pictures of appropriate pieces and email it to me," Sharon says. "I'll make sure we're prepared."

"It'll be tempting to dress younger, but I don't think these guys are looking for that." Micki hesitates.

"What?" Brenda presses, worry curling down low in her stomach.

"It's just the age of these women. When really young girls get taken and sold into sexual slavery, it's easy to keep them in that life but women who are in their thirties and forties and fifties? They'd fight back, you know? They'd be more resourceful. I just don't think these women are surviving very long."

"Raped and killed," Brenda says.

Micki nods. "Like maybe the killing is part of the package. I don't know. I don't have any evidence, just my instinct."

"You could be exactly right," Brenda says.

"Excuse me ladies," Sharon says. They watch her walk across the restaurant toward the back where the restrooms were.

Brenda leans in a little and says, "Detective Mendoza, I want you to keep a close eye on Captain Raydor for the duration of this op."

"Of course, Ma'am," Micki says.

"It's not that I plan on leavin' her side but I don't like the way Marat Sokolov was sizing her up and if he's already got her in mind as the target, I want to definitely make sure that she doesn't get hurt or worse."

"I can brief the rest of the team," Micki says.

"No, no, she'll hate that. She'll find out and she'll know I'm behind it. Just keep someone on her all night. If we get split up, god forbid, I just want to know that someone else has eyes on her."

"You two are going to be well covered," Micki promises. "One more thing, Chief Johnson."

Brenda nods.

"If it starts getting late and there's no sign of activity, you two might have to… amp things up a little. Find a corner. Look, uh, occupied?"

Brenda feels her eyebrows crawl up her head.

"It makes you seem like an easier target. If you're, um. Distracted."

"I understand," Brenda says. "I don't know how I got to this place, but I understand."

Micki smiles. "It's not all bad, Chief. And the Captain is… well I've had worse partners for ops."

"Like Julio Sanchez?" Brenda says and Micki grins.

"Yeah! Like, why they always gotta put the latinos together?"

Sharon's heels on the floor signal her return and Brenda leans back in her chair.

"You ready?" she asks. Brenda nods.

oooo

Sharon comes over after work, like they have to study for an exam, or something. It feels so strange to open up the door and see her standing there. Joel leaps from the back of the sofa upon seeing a stranger and skitters down the hall into the bedroom, to hide under the bed.

"Fritz isn't home yet," Brenda says, though why she isn't sure. She's just nervous, maybe, about Sharon being in her home, about her conversation with Detective Mendoza earlier. Sharon is holding two large shopping bags and manages a tense smile.

"Okay," she says. "Good to know."

"What's that? What's in there?" Brenda asks, pointing to the bags.

"Do you think I could come in, Chief?" she asks.

"Yes, of course, sorry," Brenda says, stepping aside. "And Brenda, it's Brenda. We gotta practice."

"Brenda," Sharon says. "I brought some things over. I thought maybe between your wardrobe and mine we can probably find something that works within Detective Mendoza's guidelines."

"Trampy but not too young," Brenda says. "Hard to picture any of that comin' out of your well tailored closet."

"Thank you," Sharon says. "For that unexpected compliment."

Brenda rolls her eyes the moment Sharon's back is turned.

"How about somethin' to drink," Brenda says. "We have, um, wine?"

"Oh, that could help things along," she says. "Where do you want me to put these?"

"Down the hall, on the right is the bedroom. That's where I keep my clothes," Brenda says only slightly sarcastically.

"You don't say," Sharon voice says from down the hall.

There's a half empty bottle of wine on the counter by window and she looks at her reflection in the window. It's not exactly dark yet but dark enough to see her own, tired face. She's surprised to see that she looks nervous. And maybe she is, truth be told, about the whole ordeal. This isn't how her cases usually go. She likes to call the shots, yes, but not to be at the center of things quite like this. It won't do. She forces her expression into something more neutral and reaches for two wine glasses. Pours the glasses to slightly less than half full and goes down the hall to find Sharon standing awkwardly in her bedroom, shopping bags at her feet.

God, they did not think this through.

"Okay, here, take it, take it," Brenda says. Sharon does, sniffing the dark red liquid before touching her lips to the glass and sipping it.

"Thank you," she says.

"So what did Detective Mendoza say?" Brenda asks. "I'm gonna guess my sweaters are probably off the table."

"May I?" Sharon asks, pointing to closet.

And Brenda is struck with the strangest sense of deja vu. It was only this morning she was standing there wondering what Sharon would think if she saw the closet and now Sharon is in here, right in her bedroom, and it's like Brenda dreamed a dream that is coming true. Like she's some sort of prophet.

"Yeah," Brenda says. "Go on, then."

Sharon laughs after a moment and says, "It's like the Barbie aisle at Toys R Us."

Brenda peers into one of the shopping bags that Sharon has left behind but everything looks black and she can't make anything out.

And then the key in the door and Fritz saying, "Hi honey!"

Maybe Sharon doesn't hear him from the closet, maybe she freezes, but Fritz comes into the bedroom, kisses her and tugs at his tie.

"I'm beat," he says. "Turns out suddenly I have to work a joint case with the LAPD. Can you believe that?"

"Uh," Brenda says.

And then Sharon, leaning against the closet door, holding her wine.

Fritz doesn't jump, which she gives him credit for. But he does go very still.

"Captain Raydor," he says.

"Agent Howard," she returns.

"Honey, Captain Raydor is in our closet," he says, glancing at her.

"Yeah, we're prepping for tomorrow," Brenda says. "We shouldn't be long."

"Hope you don't mind if I borrow your wife," Sharon says, smirking just a little.

"As long as you return her how you found her," he says, matching the light tone. "I brought take out. You'll stay for dinner, won't you Captain?"

Sharon does glance at Brenda now, looking for what? Permission? Brenda feels too strange about it all, that she doesn't offer Sharon an out or anything. Just stands there.

"Oh," Sharon says. "I couldn't."

"No, I insist," Fritz says. "You finish up in here. I'll set the table."

Brenda watches him leave and then turns back to Sharon. Her cheeks are a little rosy, but all in all she looks the same.

"Brenda," she says. "Do you have anything backless?"

So they're just going to push through and pretend that didn't happen. Brenda can work with that. Brenda's built a whole life around that.

"Some dresses," she says.

"Pull those, pull any skirts above the knee, pull anything that will reflect light. Beads or sequins or metallics."

"Okay," Brenda says.

"We'll just bring it all and let Mendoza have the final say," Sharon says. "Then I don't have to stay, I can just get out of your hair-"

"You do have to stay," Brenda says. "Fritz just told you to stay."

"So?" Sharon says.

"So stay!" Brenda says. "It'll be fine. He likes you, Fritz likes you."

"I don't care," Sharon says. "We're not friends, this is odd."

"We have to be for a few days at least," Brenda says. "Come on, drink your wine. We'll eat. Then you can go."

Sharon scowls at her.

"Show me what's in your bags," Brenda says. "Because it looks like you're going undercover to a funeral."

"I don't do color," Sharon says, and takes a big drink of wine.

"That's not true! I've seen you in color. You have that very pretty purple jacket. That color is great on you!" Brenda says. "And for some reason you bought it in blue, too, but the purple is good."

"That was almost nice," Sharon says. "You got so close."

Brenda picks up one of the bags and just dumps it onto the bed. Starts pawing through it. Black pants, black skirt, the black vest of a three piece suit, a sleeveless blouse that is probably technically gray but is so dark it may as well be black. One red dress.

"I've never seen you wear this," Brenda says, holding it up. "This is pretty. Not for tomorrow, but you could wear this to work!"

"It's kind of flashy for work," Sharon says uneasily.

"So?"

"So," Sharon says. "So there."

"You could put a sweater over it, I guess, or a blazer, but Sharon, hell, I'd wear this."

"You can have it," Sharon says crossly.

"Why did you even come here if you were going to fight against the entire activity?" Brenda says. She looks at the tag but it's a size too big and not petite so the hem would fall all wrong on her, not that she's really gonna keep it.

"I don't know," Sharon says. "I just think maybe if we do well with this I could… never mind." She shakes her head. "Come on, let's go eat."

Brenda watches her head back toward the big dining room, curious and confused.

There's something that Sharon Raydor wants and Brenda is going to find out what it is.

oooo

Brenda comes into work late - but already Sharon and Micki Mendoza are in her office, clothes spread out around them. She tosses her own shopping bag to the floor and says, "Make yourselves at home."

"Thanks, Chief," Micki says, taking the bag that had skidded to her feet. She looks through it for a moment and pulls out exactly what Brenda knew she would - a teeny, tiny black cocktail dress. It's not flashy, but it's certainly small. "For you," she says, handing it Brenda. "That was easy."

Sharon makes a disgruntled sound.

"For the Captain though," Micki says. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I think with the wire and the cam it'll be easiest to go with the first choice."

"I'm not-"

"Show me," Brenda says.

"Absolutely not-" Sharon sputters. But they both ignore her protests and Micki picks up a pair of dark, dark jeans and the black vest from the three piece suit. Holds them up. Brenda waits for Micki to grab something else, but she doesn't.

Brenda turns her wide eyes to Sharon who is red all over again and looks furious.

"That's not that… not that bad," Brenda says. "Nothin' bedazzled! And black, your signature color."

"Put her in that, I'll take the dress," Sharon demands.

"Now Sharon," Brenda says. "We both know I don't have the figure for that."

Sharon's mouth has become a hard line.

"Thank you for your help, Detective. We'll see you this evenin'," Brenda says. Micki takes the hint and leaves. Brenda turns to Sharon. "I'll put it on for you."

"What?"

"I'll show you what I'll look like in that and you can see for yourself why it has to be you."

"Brenda can we not talk about your boobs for one conversation? Please?" Sharon asks, rubbing her forehead.

"It's going to be okay," Brenda says. "It won't be you. People know it's not the real you. And think of those women we'll be helpin'."

"I'm going to go get some work done," Sharon says. "Can I leave all this here?"

"Of course," Brenda says, though her office looks like a dressing room at the end of a sale weekend already. "Cooper wants us back here and suited up by seven."

"I know," she says, going out the door closest to the elevator.

Brenda is surprised with how nervous she is on Sharon's behalf. She's never seen the woman so openly uncomfortable before. Brenda doesn't mind undercover work, finds it relieving to be someone else for a few hours, but she supposes being nervous over Sharon is better than being nervous for herself.

The day passes all too quickly for how quiet it is with most of her division loaned out and everyone getting ready for tonight's operation. Julio is there manning the phones and a case that would have gone to Major Crimes ordinarily - two men killed at a hotel in the middle of a convention - gets shunted to Robbery Homicide. They might pick it up anyway, after tonight. If things go well.

The sun starts to sink and Mendoza shows up first, then Cooper. They have footage of the warehouse from throughout the day. Trucks coming and going, bringing in booze, lights, chairs, stereo equipments. A few glimpses of Iosif Sokolav with a cell phone to his ear.

When Sharon finally appears, a purse on her shoulder and a Starbucks cup in her hand, Brenda tells Cooper that he can keep using her office and picks up the bag she'd put their clothes in.

Sharon follows her uneasily to the ladies room.

"I brought shoes, and makeup," Sharon says.

"Good," Brenda says. "Why don't you do that first, then. Save the clothes for last."

Brenda changes in the stall while Sharon leans over the sinks, peering into the mirror, laying on the eyeliner thick. The black dress is her own and she doesn't feel too strange, though it's shorter than what she generally wears to the office. She pads barefoot out of the stall, her work clothes balled up in her chest. She drops her clothes into the bag and glances up to the mirror. Meets Sharon's eye.

She's got on more eye makeup than Brenda's ever seen. Dark and smoky and her eyes a pale green.

"You should do that thing where you pull your bangs up into a little bump," Brenda says. "I've always found that real flatterin' on you."

Sharon looks away, picks up a tube of lipstick. "All right."

Brenda's shoes are silver platform heels but she thinks Sharon will still be a little taller when all is said and done.

Brenda's own makeup is in the office and she didn't think, really about bringing extra from home. She keeps the basics here. A few tubes of lipstick, mascara, concealer.

"Here," Sharon says, handing her a gold eyeshadow. "This will be good with your skin."

"Oh," Brenda says. "Thanks."

Sharon takes her outfit, locks herself into the handicapped stall.

Brenda adds the eyeshadow on with her pinky finger, uses Sharon's mascara to coat her lashes an extra time. It's a true black - Brenda tends to buy brown in deference to her lighter hair but she likes how everything seems to pop. She'll leave her hair down.

"God," Sharon says from behind the metal door. "I don't know."

"Let's see it," Brenda says.

Sharon comes out. The jeans are tight and the vest doesn't quite reach the top of the jeans so she can see a little hipbone, some cleavage up above. Not too much, just a glimpse of a curve. Sharon's dark eyes, her shiny hair. Her dark red lips.

"Uh," Brenda says.

"This is too much, way too much," Sharon says.

"If you want to be noticed, it's perfect," Brenda says. "Sharon, you look beautiful!"

"I look like a tart!"

"Maybe, but it's hot. It works. It's good for the op." Brenda smiles. "I'll go get you my trench to wear out of here."

Sharon reaches out and stops just short of touching Brenda's bare arm.

"Thanks, Chief," she says.

oooo

Sharon looks like a soccer mom in Brenda's pink trench coat but wisely, no one says anything. Not about Sharon and her borrowed coat, about Brenda tugging down on her hemline, about Micki Mendoza in tiny shorts and combat boots, about Irene Daniels in a tube top, her skin covered in glitter.

They get wired up - Buzz won't look at her in the eye as she reaches down between her breasts to feed the line and she has to get Irene to help her secure the microphone pack beneath the band of her bra. Ann McGinnis has on jeans and heels and a t-shirt and has her hair in a ponytail.

"How come you get to still look like a cop?" Brenda complains to her and Ann only smiles.

"I'm not the worm on the hook, Chief," she says.

Brenda glances at Sharon who has her hand up her little vest, taping the wire against her skin. She stares up at the ceiling, perhaps pretending she's anywhere but here and she looks nervous. She'd looked nervous at the warehouse, she'd looked nervous in the bathroom and she looks nervous now.

Brenda chews the inside of her lip and makes a choice. Turns to Ann. "Tell Cooper that I borrowed Captain Raydor for a moment, tell him to start the debrief and we'll be back in a jiffy."

"Sure, Chief," she says.

She walks over to Sharon and says, "Come with me, Captain."

"We're about to start," she complains, glancing at Buzz who looks into his laptop for a moment and then gives her the thumbs up.

"It'll just be a moment," she says, and then turns to Buzz. "Remember you work for me, not them, you got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he says.

"Keep my secrets," she says. He nods.

Sharon follows her out, to the elevator, tying the ribbon sash of Brenda's jacket around her waist. The jacket is a little tight in the shoulders on Sharon so it doesn't completely cover her - Brenda can see skin between her collarbones, just the very top of her cleavage.

They take the elevator up to the murder room. There are a few people still in the office, but no one says anything when Brenda walks over to Provenza's desk and pulls open a drawer. Fishes out a bottle. Carries it into her office.

"What are we doing?" Sharon asks.

"You," Brenda says, "have got to relax."

"We're still wired!" Sharon hisses.

"Buzz won't tell," Brenda says. "And I can't have you like this, I can't have it."

"I'm not… I just have never…"

Brenda unscrews the bottle of whiskey as Sharon stutters, coloring just a hint in the cheeks. She's embarrassed and she's been embarrassed for the whole duration of this case but Brenda has only just now sussed out that it's exactly embarrassment and not just nerves. She takes the empty coffee mug on her desk, already washed, and pours about a shot and a half in.

Sharon takes it, peers down into the mug as if it were full of snakes, not booze.

"I'm not much for brown liquor," Sharon says uneasily.

"You've nothin' to be ashamed of," Brenda says. "You look beautiful and all you have to do is follow my lead. Go where I go, do what I do. If we get separated, you make sure you can see another officer and if you can't, break cover and scream into that microphone and we'll get you help."

"You're scaring me," Sharon says.

"I'm preparing you."

Sharon stares a moment and then says, "You think they're going to try to take me?"

No sense lying when she'd basically just asked for Sharon to trust her. So she nods. "I do."

"Maybe I should stay out of it then," Sharon says but then shakes her head. "No, if we actually want to stop these men, then I can't."

"Right," Brenda says softly.

Sharon brings the mug to her lips and tilts her head back. Swallows everything Brenda poured her.

It feels almost obscene to watch her drink. When she tilts her head back, her neck is a long column, creamy white and Brenda watches the muscles in her throat work to swallow with parted lips. It'd been a lot easier to ignore Sharon's beauty when she used up all her energy hating her, but working this case with her has made Sharon seem very human. And that makes it hard to hate her and when she's not hating her, Brenda can see clearly things like the elegant line of her neck, the hair framing her face, the bright green eyes.

Shit, Brenda thinks.

"Better?" Brenda asks.

"Disgusting, actually," Sharon says.

"Well," Brenda says, screwing the lid back on. "Provenza."

"Yeah," Sharon says. "Can we go back now?"

Down in the briefing, they slip in not quite unnoticed. Will is there, gives them a dirty look. Fritz is there too and smirks when he sees her in her skimpiest black dress, dolled up like she's fifteen years younger than she really is. She doesn't get a chance to talk to him before the FBI leaves to get into position. It's too early for the undercover officers to go to the party, but everyone else leaves to make sure everything is set up for when they arrive.

The undercover beat cops will go in first, and then the seasoned officers like Irene and Kate and Ann and the overly enthusiastic Amy Sykes from SIS in heels that makes her quite possibly twice as tall as Brenda herself.

Then, last, Sharon and Brenda.

She thinks about what Ann said - Brenda isn't used to being the worm on the hook and she doesn't like the idea of dangling Sharon either, but if they can catch the Sokolav family in the act, they can save lives and that's what she hangs onto as they all troop down to the parking garage.

"My feet already hurt," she says to Sharon because they're both too quiet. "How you feelin'?"

"A little better," Sharon admits. "Thanks."

"It's all gonna be over before we know it," she promises.

But it still seems to take forever. They park, they wait in the van. Buzz tests their equipment again just to be sure. Sharon complains she has nowhere to hide her gun and then is fussy when Brenda tells her she can't have one.

"May as well just clip your badge to your jeans," Brenda mutters. But truth be told, she doesn't like going in unarmed either. It's what all the undercover officers are for, to keep an eye on them, to let them draw out the evil and then step out of the way.

Finally, Sharon has to shed the borrowed coat and does so reluctantly. Brenda can't help but stare at the sharp hip bones on display and her long, bare arms. Sharon puts on fresh lipstick in the side mirror of the van. Brenda tucks her driver's licence into her bra and hands Sharon a few twenty dollar bills.

"For the cover," she says.

"How come I have to-"

"Because I don't have pockets," Brenda says. Sharon takes the money and shoves it in her back pocket. "Okay. You ready?"

Sharon nods, though even that simple gesture is unconvincing. Brenda reaches out, snags her fingers. She feels Sharon stiffen and for a moment start to pull away, though she doesn't.

"We're just going to go take a look around, get a drink, dance. Keep an eye out for any of the Sokolavs, keep an eye on Irene and Ann. And stay with me, okay?"

Sharon nods and says, "Okay."

And she squeezes Brenda's fingers.

Brenda squeezes back.