Welcome Her Home with Red Roses (T Rated Version)

by Labyrinth01

After spending a month in Atlanta, Brenda is reunited with Fritz and prepares to start a new chapter in her life. This is the final story in the "Welcome Home" series. (There is also an M-rated version of this story.) THIS STORY IS ON HOLD. I just got so tired begging for reviews that it doesn't seem worth it anymore.

5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes: I borrow bits and pieces of storyline from Major Crimes, like a little Closer magpie. Clearly things I take from this season's Major Crimes is completely out of sync with when this story takes place, but it's all good. You can do that stuff in fanfic. Of note, I got the idea for Rios's backstory from an interview with Nadine Velazquez in which she talks about the content of a delete scene from Major Crimes.

I want to thank everyone who has reviewed this story—you give me a gift each time you pause and put something in that square at the end of a chapter with your kind and/or honest words. In particular I want to thank a Guest who has left some really lovely reviews. Mr./Ms. Guest, per your suggestion, I'd love to write a Closer book, as long as someone pays me to do it! Then again, this story is so long, it will rival War and Peace by the time it's finished.

I must give deep thanks to Kate Rosen for editing this chapter. Without her careful review, the chapter would look like a person who got dressed in the dark: blouse buttoned wrong, mismatched socks, rumpled pants, bedhead. Kate takes my work, makes it stand up straight, combs its hair, sews up the gaping holes, and helps me to bring it to you in the most coherent manner possible. I'm grateful for her attention to detail, her honesty, and her sense of humor, and most of all, her patience with me.

Special thanks go to Manateemamma for lending me her character of DA Steve Corning. If you haven't read MM's fabulous Closer fics, well, for heaven's sake, get cracking! She is as prolific as she is entertaining, and a blessing to us Closer-starved folk.

Since it's been awhile since we started this journey, I thought I'd do a quick summary of the story so far, so you know exactly where this chapter picks up:

Fritz picked Brenda up at the airport after she had spent a month in Atlanta caring for her mourning father and going through a lot of personal growth and grief of her own (read "Thirteen Days", and "The Second Daughter" for more details). Fritz treated Brenda to a romantic evening at a fancy hotel, where really hot sex ensued, and the next day he showed her the house he had found, with the help of Sharon Raydor, while she was in Atlanta. Brenda was pleased with the little bungalow and thrilled to move. Once back at the duplex Brenda tried to settle in to her week off before starting her new job, but was plagued with the nightmares of Philip Stroh's attack. Through a flashback we learn that the nightmares were so severe in Atlanta that Clay Johnson called Fritz to find out what was wrong with Brenda, and Brenda was forced to tell her father about Stroh. Brenda and Fritz had dinner with their new friends they met at the airport, Lily and her granddaughter Alexis, and Lily gave Fritz some herbal tea to help with her nightmares. After meeting resistance about taking the tea, Fritz confronted Brenda about how her PTSD symptoms were tearing him apart, Brenda acquiesced, and Chapter 4 ended with Fritz waking up after a peaceful night, feeling full of hope. This chapter starts the next morning.

---

Fritz looked over at Brenda, who was sipping coffee and frowning at something she was reading in the paper. Her hair was pulled into a sloppy pony tail that listed to the right side of her head, and her glasses were askew. She was utterly adorable, bed-rumpled and sugar-fed. He had bought her warm cinnamon buns when out running, and her smile was well worth the mile detour he was forced to take. What Fritz noticed the most, though, was what he didn't see: telltale signs of a difficult night's sleep. There were no circles under her eyes, no wrinkles on her forehead, and no heaviness to her thought and speech. Her skin was smooth, she looked well-rested, and despite the small frown on her lips induced by a challenging clue in the crossword puzzle, perhaps, or a letter to the editor she didn't agree with, she looked happy.

But he had to tell her.

Brenda would be starting her new job at the DA's office tomorrow, and a week after that they will be in their new house. It will seem, on the surface, that all things Phillip Stroh were very far away. That illusion will be broken the second DDA Emma Rios storms in and shatters what reserves Brenda has built back up since the attack. And he had to warn her. He had to let her know that it won't take long before a controlling DA she's never had the pleasure of intimidating as Deputy Chief of Major Crimes will be barreling through her office and riding roughshod over her fresh wounds. The more prepared Brenda was, the better she'd handle the inevitable assault. He just didn't want to ruin her peaceful mood.

"You gonna just stare at me all morning, or are you gonna share what's on your mind?" Brenda said, interrupting his thoughts. She had one eyebrow cocked at him. "Somehow I don't think you're lookin' at me because I've got crumbs on my chin."

He reached out and brushed her face. "Matter of fact, you do have crumbs on your chin."

She slapped his hand away, then took it in hers. "Stop it! What's up, Fritz? You have that worried look on your face, and I have no idea why. I slept like a log last night, we have the whole day together, we got these great cinnamon rolls…hey, you gonna eat that last one?" Her hand started reaching toward the bakery bag, her attention diverted.

He pulled the bag out of reach, and she looked at him, surprised. "You already had two!" he said." This last one is mine!"

She looked at him, her lower lip jutting out slightly, and she was so pathetic that he pushed the bag toward her. "You play me like a fiddle, Brenda. Split the last one in half."

Her face broke into a smile. "Thank you, honey. I need the extra fuel. After all, I'm startin' a new job tomorrow." She cut the roll in half and took the bigger piece, her eyes closing in pleasure as she took a bite.

He cleared his throat. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Hmmm?" Her attention had wandered back to the paper.

"Brenda, I want to talk to you about something. So you are fully prepared."

Now he had her attention. She put down what was left of the roll and looked at him. "Prepared? Prepared for what?"

"Well," he started, wishing he didn't have to drag Stroh back into the kitchen on this beautiful Sunday morning, "I think I told you they assigned a DA to Major Crimes. They want someone involved from the very beginning of every investigation."

Brenda nodded impatiently. "Yea, Fritzy, I know. They were forcin' this down my throat when I was there. Sounds like they took advantage of me leavin' to make it official."

"They did. And unfortunately, even though Andrea has some involvement, the main DA isn't Hobbs. It's a new woman named Emma Rios."

Brenda took a sip of coffee. "I imagine I'll be meetin' her some time this week. What's she like?"

"A nightmare," Fritz said.

"What do you mean by that?"

"She's a pain in the ass, Brenda. She gets up in Raydor's face and is pretty obnoxious, and doesn't listen to anyone on the squad. I guess Sanchez lost it a couple of weeks ago and told her to stop treating him like he was a waiter."

"Oh my," Brenda said, popping the last of her roll in her mouth. "Good thing I won't have to deal with her for a long time. My investigators are mainly on cases goin' to trial, and since she's got her hand in fresh murders, that won't be for awhile."

And now I have to ruin her day. Fritz reached out and put his hand on Brenda's. "Unfortunately, Brenda, that's not going to be the case." He paused, expecting her to ask him why, but the look in her eyes told him she knew already. Fear, he thought. I can't stand to see fear on my girl.

"She's trying the Stroh case, Brenda," he got out finally. "And she's not wasting any time getting to work."

15 Days ago

Fritz found himself in the Murder Room of Major Crimes since Brenda left for Atlanta far more frequently than he really needed to be. It reminded him of Brenda, and as he walked the halls and heard the familiar cantankerous complaints of Provenza interspersed with Flynn's liberal use of the F-bomb, he expected to see her any second, flustered and pretty, her long blonde hair piled on top of her head and her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. When she saw him in the midst of a chaotic day she usually let out a small "oh" of confusion, as if unsure how to react to a six-foot tall reminder that she had a personal life. Over time the look of surprise and slight annoyance was replaced by a reserved smile and look that told him she was pleased to see him, and that morphed into unabashed pleasure when he appeared. Come to think of it, it's been months since I've seen her smile at work, he thought A sign of how bad things have been.

He was so lost in his melancholy that he didn't notice he was walking a well-worn path to Brenda's office until he heard mutterings from within. He was yanked out of his reverie by an unusual sight: the normally unflappable Sharon Raydor pacing the office, her blouse half pulled out of her skirt and her long locks in need of a comb. Raydor's arms were crossed in front of her, and whenever a mumbled word became audible, it was of the four-letter variety. I don't know what I've stumbled into, he thought, and slowly turned around to retreat down the hall, berating himself for daydreaming too much.

"Fritz!" he heard Raydor say. He turned around and saw Sharon with both hands on her hips, glasses slightly askew, looking at him. "Do you need something?"

She's clearly having a bad day, he thought. "No, ah, I was just, well—" she looked at him with those scary green eyes "this is embarrassing, Sharon. I was up here, and I think my feet took me to Brenda's, I mean your, office out of habit. I' m sorry I bothered you."

She laughed, high-pitched and harsh. "Oh no, you didn't interrupt me. I'm just planning a homicide, that's all." She resumed her pacing.

Fritz walked into the room. What did Provenza do now? "Sharon," he said with concern, "are you okay?"

She turned around and fixed him with a steely gaze. "Sit down," she said softly, a bit more in control.

"Okay, but why? You seem really upset. Is there something I can help you with?"

Raydor let out a long puff of air and hung her head. "I don't know how much you can help, although it would be really nice to vent to a grownup for a change." She glanced towards the murder room. "But I should share something with you, since I have a feeling it's going to be a problem for the Chief."

At her urging, he took a seat, and she told him about her first few interactions with the new DA who was assigned to Major Crimes, Emma Rios. Fritz listened, horrified, as Sharon described Emma's verbal attack on Rusty the first time they'd met. As Sharon talked, her face became redder and redder, and a vein at the base of her throat began to visibly bound.

Before she was done, Fritz felt a considerable rise in his own blood pressure. "This Emma Rios called Rusty a 'whorephan?' You have got to be kidding me!" Rusty wasn't the defendant, just a kid with a sad story who got caught in a murderer's crosshairs.

"Oh, I wish I were, Fritz, I wish I were. Rusty is finally getting settled in my house, treating me a little nicer ever since he started talking to Brenda on the phone regularly, and I'm trying to get him into the Catholic school my kids attended. I want to give him a chance at a normal life. And here this egotistical DA comes along and makes him feel like shit. You should have seen the look on his face." Her voice got rough and she looked away, then shook her head as if to ground herself.

"I'm so sorry, Sharon. Is she serious about taking Rusty out of your care? And does she have any power to do so?"

"Not at all. Rios and Taylor are on some shared power trip, thinking they can order Child Services to change Rusty's placement. I was on the phone with Rusty's Social Worker as soon as the bi—the woman left my office. I explained the situation, and she assured me that neither the LAPD nor the DA's office has any power over foster care. Those decisions come from a judge."

"Well thank god for that," Fritz said.

Sharon nodded her head and stood up, smoothing her blouse and pulling her hair back from her face. "I am going to make sure nothing happens to Rusty, no matter what Rios wants," she said, steel in her voice. "But I did want to give you a heads up, for Brenda's sake."

"Yea, I can't believe that they've gotten a DA working on Stroh's case already. He was just—" "in my house attacking my wife" he finish in his head.. Out loud, "arrested a few weeks ago, and I'm sure the trial won't be for another year. Why so fast?"

"Thanks to your wife's careful surveillance of Stroh," she said, with an ironic emphasis on the word "surveillance," "we know he is very smart and highly skilled at getting himself out of tricky situations. The DA's office wants this case to be as tight as possible."

Fritz nodded mutely. He had been horrified when he had heard the extent of Brenda's fascination with Stroh and seriously worried about how it would ultimately affect both her career and her mental health. On confrontation, she promised she would stop, and because he didn't know what else to do, he pretended to believe her.

"And that's why I wanted to give you a head's up, Fritz. I'm sure Rios will be approaching Brenda in the near future, and if she was as rude to Brenda as she was to Rusty…" Sharon let her words fade away. "I think it's pretty much a given that Rios and Brenda are not going to get along. I don't even think Brenda becoming a bigwig at the DA's office is going to protect her. Rios doesn't seem to respect anyone."

Fritz felt a sudden hot lick of anger flash through him. "Christ, Sharon, Brenda just got attacked less than a month ago. Now this woman is going to be sniffing around Brenda, asking her to recount events she can barely talk about?" Fritz knew Brenda would be furious is she found out he had exposed her trauma to Sharon Raydor, but he didn't care. He just wanted to protect her.

Sharon sat down next to him. "I couldn't agree more, but I don't think we can do anything about it. Right after I called Rusty's Child Services Social Worker, I called the DA himself and complained about Rios. I got all this crap from Corning about how she spent eight years in the San Francisco DA's office and had an extremely high conviction rate, and if she believes something needs to be done a certain way, we should listen to her." Sharon growled, low in her throat. "I always really respected Steve Corning until that conversation. Now I'm wondering if he's screwing Rios."

Despite himself, Fritz laughed. "I'm surprised he'd defend that kind of behavior from one of his DA's. She must be really good at getting convictions."

Raydor have snorted, half coughed. "You haven't seen her yet. She's really good at—looking good."

---

A week later, Fritz was providing information to the squad from the FBI's gang Intelligence Unit to help on a case of an apparent drive-by. He had seen Raydor with a man he thought was the suspect's lawyer; he was handsome , over a decade older than Fritz, and judging by the subtle spark between them, he wondered if they were dating. A few minutes later he walked out and heard the sound of raised voices, one of them being Sharon Raydor. Sharon was getting taken to task by a stunningly beautiful woman, Latina with long dark hair and brown eyes that contrasted delicately with pale skin. And what a figure, Fritz thought to himself, admiring the feminine curves of Sharon's adversary.

The spell was broken when the pretty woman turned heals and spat out what was clearly her parting barb: "Let me go and interview this Pedro person to make sure he didn't see anything. Unless, of course, he's your gardener."

Sharon looked a lot like she had a few days earlier in her office, red and trembling with anger. Fritz came and stood next to her. "Was that Emma Rios?" he said, nodding his head at the retreating form.

"Very good, Agent Howard. You are one of the rare males who still has enough blood left in his head to be able to think when around her." The bitter edge was back in her voice.

Fritz waited for it. Sharon Raydor may be tough, but she wasn't rude. "I'm sorry Fritz, that was an awful thing to say. She just has a way of getting under my skin. And yes, that was the infamous Emma Rios."

"She reminds me of the Tasmanian devil from the cartoons I used to watch on Saturday mornings."

"Except not as cuddly." Sharon regarded Fritz for a moment, as if trying to decide something, and then said softly. "Listen, I am going to make a suggestion, and in no way do I mean to recommend that you act in a duplicitous manner." She turned and walked toward her office, and Fritz followed, curious. When they got there she closed the door behind them.

"Sharon," Fritz said gently, since it was clear she was upset about something, "We're off the record. I think with all you have helped Brenda and me through, the formalities can be lessened a bit."

Sharon leaned against her desk and took off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Yes, but I do try to hold on to the tatters of professionalism together whenever I can, especially around here. It's in such short supply." A small smile was tugging at her face, still red from whatever clash he had walked in on.

"I'm pleading the fifth on that," he said. "What is it you wanted to tell me?"

"It's about the Tasmanian Devil, also known as Emma Rios. That argument out there"—she gestured toward the murder room—"was because she blew a gasket when she realized that the defendant's lawyer is my husband."

Fritz raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were divorced."

Sharon shook her head slowly. "Oh, but I wish I were. I've been separated for 20 years, but we never got divorced. Please don't ask me to explain why; it's a long story."

"And none of my business," Fritz said. But he was surprised such a bright, attractive woman as Sharon Raydor would find two decades of relationship stasis an acceptable way to live.

"I didn't mean that. It's just a complicated situation. Jack is on the list of court-appointed attorneys, and I asked him to represent this defendant and…" she trailed off and shook her head. "It might not have been one of my better ideas."

Fritz silently agreed.

"When I saw you come in during Emma's rant, something occurred to me." She sighed. "Rios has big issues with personal relationships between Major Crimes and witnesses interfering with her cases. I told you how she wants to have Rusty placed somewhere else for foster care so his testimony won't be 'tainted' by being my foster son."

Fritz shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"And you saw her reaction to learning my husband was working on a case with me, albeit on the opposite side. And it occurred to me that she might have a problem with her star witness in the Stroh case being married to the FBI's liaison to the LAPD."

Fritz was incredulous. "Really?"

"I could be wrong, but I think she will. Brenda doesn't work here anymore, which Rios said is a huge help, but knowing that you have frequent contact with Major Crimes, well, that will piss her off."

Fritz leaned against the wall. "I could care less about pissing off that woman. She seems like a nasty piece of work."

Sharon nodded. "I understand. The problem is, the person who's going to be berated for these supposed threats to her case isn't you or me, it's Brenda. Being married to the FBI liaison will give Rios one more reason to give Brenda a very difficult time during the next year of discovery and trial prep. And that is going to be on top off all the interrogation Rios is going to conduct over Brenda's near stalking of Stroh. Calling his employers, sending flowers and such."

"Oh, that," he said wearily.

"Yes, that," Raydor said. "Being married to you is going to be low on Rios' reasons for being hard on Brenda, but it is there. So I was just going to suggest that you take advantage of the fact that you two have different last names and not mention to Emma that Brenda is your wife. And tell Brenda the same."

"The squad is always asking about her, every time I'm here," Fritz said.

"I will casually mention my concern to Provenza, and he will handle it, I'm sure," she said. "For all his faults, of which there are many, he is very loyal to your wife. He will let everyone know to watch what they say to you when Emma is around."

I appreciate that, but she's going to find out eventually."

Sharon made an impatient noise. "Of course she will. But my guess is that one less thing for Emma to bust Brenda's chops over is a positive. Three months from now, when Rios bursts into Brenda's office at the DA's and demands you two get a divorce, the Chief will be in a much better place to laugh her off than she is right now, when everything is so…fresh. Am I right?"

Fritz nodded his head slowly, grateful that Sharon Raydor had their backs. "I think you are very right. And please, stop calling her 'the Chief.' She's 'Brenda' to you."

"And pretty soon, I can call her neighbor." A small smile broke free from her serious face. "Did you ever think you would see the day, the two of us, neighbors? The LAPD wasn't big enough to hold us."

"I'm not sure a neighborhood is big enough to hold the two of you, but I can hardly wait and see."

---

"She called Rusty a what?" Brenda's coffee cup was pushed aside and the newspaper slipped to the ground as she listened intently to Fritz as he recounted his interactions with Sharon Raydor. Her eyes had grown dark, the way they did when she was really angry.

"I'm not going to repeat it, it's too offensive," Fritz said.

"How could she treat Rusty like that? That boy did nothin' wrong. He was a hustler because his mama abandoned him, and he nearly got killed by Phillip Stroh, twice. Who treats an innocent kid like that?"

Fritz could think of many instances when Brenda ran roughshod over someone who was just a witness in order to get the information she wanted, but he wisely kept his mouth closed.

"You met this witch in person yet?" Brenda asked.

Fritz nodded. "On Friday. I was talking to Tao, and she just came up and interrupted our conversation, then started bombarding Mike with questions like I wasn't even there. When he pointed out he was speaking to someone, and she turned around and looked at me, like I was a bug, and said, 'So who exactly are you?' She was so rude."

"I'll say. Did you settle her wagon when you said you were from the FBI?"

Fritz snorted. "I've learned not to expect and ounce of respect at the LAPD." Brenda raised her eyebrow at him. "Ok, the DA's occasionally give us our props. But not Rios. After I said who I was, she didn't introduce herself, she just started demanding to know what cases I had in Major Crimes."

Brenda snickered. "Tell me you didn't stand for that."

"When she finally shut up, I reached in my pocket and handed her my card. I told her she clearly was a very important person, using my subtly sarcastic voice, and so she should call me and set up a meeting. And I just walked away."

"Your 'subtly sarcastic' voice?" Brenda had picked up her mug and was smiling over the edge of it.

"Yes, it's one I perfected in dealing with you. It was amazing how easily little barbs slid right past you."

She shook her head. "Oh honey, nothin' gets past me. I just chose to ignore those little comments of yours. For the sake of marital harmony." She reached out and interlaced her fingers with his.

He tugged at her hand. "I can think of something else that's good for marital harmony." He raised his eyebrows.

Brenda laughed. "You gonna seduce me with your bedroom voice this early in the mornin', Fritz? I don't think so."

"Okay, I'll take a different approach. Get over here right now, woman." Fritz gave their conjoined hands a firm tug. Brenda, giggling, stood up and came over to his side of the table. He grabbed her around her waist and brought her down to straddle his lap.

"Mmmm," she purred. "I like it when you go all caveman. It makes me hot."

Fritz pulled her closer and nipped at her neck. "I can club you over the head and drag you into the bedroom, if you like."

Brenda looked in his eyes and said, without hesitation, "no, I think I'm in the mood for a quickie right here in the kitchen."

She wore a smirk on her face, "challenge" written on every feature, her eyes dark. She was playing him, making him hot without even touching him.

A low growl started in Fritz's throat as his hand snaked up her back under her pajamas and slid over the soft planes of her skin. She took his face in her hands and kissed him, hard, breaking to nip his ear and whisper, "Take me."

He took

---

Fritz was pretty sure by the time the afterglow wore off, six months had passed. It was so damn good he didn't want to open his eyes and return to reality. Ever. It was Brenda's butterfly kisses over his forehead and cheeks that brought him back, and even then, he stubbornly refused to open his eyes. Brenda finally pried one open.

"Did I lose you forever, honey?"

Reluctantly, he opened the other eye and looked at Brenda. "I didn't want to come back from that one."

"Yea, I don't think I need to ask if that was good for you. I'm surprised the neighbor didn't call the police."

"She's used to the noise," Fritz said, becoming aware of how uncomfortable the kitchen floor was.

"Ha ha," Brenda said.

He sat up, a little dizzy. "I have an idea," he said, words still hard to form. "Us. Afterglow. Bedroom."

Brenda nodded and sat up next to him. "I'll clean up the broken mug and spilled coffee and be right in, honey."

He stood up and turned to see his FBI mug in pieces on the ground. He couldn't care less.

"Next time we fool around in the kitchen,, Fritz, we should clear the table first," Brenda said, then got to work.

---

Fritz made a simple dinner of spaghetti and meatballs later on Sunday night. Cooking was becoming increasingly difficult, since most of their kitchen was packed up for the move.

"You all set for tomorrow?" he asked. After their sexy morning, they had spent the day cleaning, doing laundry, buying a few groceries, and doing bills, so Brenda's first week would be unfettered with domestic chores.

She took a sip of Merlot and nodded. "I just have to pick out an outfit tonight is all. I thought you could help me."

That will be hours of torture, he thought. "Sure, honey," he said.

"I'm not sure you could sound less enthused, Fritz," Brenda said, kicking him under the table. "I just want everythin' ready to go in the mornin' so we can go runnin.' And I want to make a good first impression."

Fritz put down his garlic bread and picked up her hand. "I wanted to talk to you about that," he said softly.

"Oh no," Brenda said, groaning. "Are you gonna give me a lecture?"

"No," he said, trying not get mad. "But are you serious about how you live your life, Brenda, or was that just talk?" He had challenged her.

She yanked back her hand and crossed her arms. "No, it wasn't just talk, Fritz. So go ahead and give me your speech." She was pouting.

"Only if you give me your respect and stop acting like a spoiled child." That caught her attention. She opened her mouth and he just looked at her, eyebrow raised. And for once, he stopped her in her tracks.

Brenda unfolded her arms. "Okay, I'm sorry, Fritz. I do need you to help to navigate the land of the livin'. You are so much better at it than I am. What is it you wanted to say?"

He took a deep breath, hoping he chose his words correctly. "You talked about first impressions, which is important. You are walking into the DA's office with a reputation of being fierce and brilliant, so you have that going for you. It's not like when you showed up at the LAPD seven years ago and had to bust some balls so people wouldn't' walk all over you."

"Uh huh," she said. "And the DA's all hate me."

"We talked about that, and it's not true. But remember, you haven't met the investigators who will be working for you."

"Yea?"

"So think about what kind of impression you want to make. You used to complain that everyone hated you, the FBI, other divisions, DA's…but you never exactly knocked yourself out to be a diplomat."

"I don't get paid to be agreeable," she said crossly.

"I disagree," Fritz said. "You are going to be running a large division, so you are going to be the boss of more than just six people. It's going to be your job to assure everyone gets along with each other, and with outside agencies. The whole point of having Gabriel come with you is to create a bridge to the LAPD, so you have a great start with that. So instead of barreling in and pissing everyone off, why don't you try a diplomatic approach this time?"

Fritz had to give her credit: he could tell she was trying to control her temper. Brenda took a couple of deep, slow breaths, and said with pursed lips, "so you are tellin' me to not be such a bitch?"

"No. I'm telling you that you don't have anything to prove like you did seven years ago, so just try and play nice, at least to start."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Fritz put his hand on hers, grateful she didn't jerk away again. "Then you release the patent Brenda Leigh Johnson ball-shrinking can of whoop ass."

She cracked a smile. "I can live with that."

---

Poke. "Fritz."

He rolled over and groaned, hoping to avoid the annoying stimuli. No luck.

"Fritzy! Wake up!"

He struggled to wakefulness. He knew this wasn't Brenda having a nightmare; they usually didn't give him a heads up. He tried to speak. "Mrrrpphh" was all he could get out.

He heard Brenda's patent impatient sigh. "Honey, wake up! I wanna go runnin'!"

With great effort, he opened his eyes. The bedroom was dark, and he could barely make out Brenda perched on the edge of the bed, dressed in running clothes. Fritz glanced at the clock and groaned.

"Brenda, it's 5:15 in the morning! What the hell are you doing up?"

She bounced up and down. "I'm anxious about startin' work today, and you promised to go runnin' with me. So let's go."

He closed his eyes. "You're nuts. Too early. Wake me up at 6:45. And not a second earlier."

He rolled over and fell immediately back to sleep, despite her protests.

Fritz woke up an hour later to the sounds of clanking coming from the living room. He rubbed his hand over his face, and lay in bed for a few minutes listening to Brenda trying to work off her nervous energy.

It wasn't uncommon for her to get up in the middle of the night when working on a tough case, and, unable to sleep, start cleaning the house like a whirling dervish. She did her best to keep quiet, and Fritz couldn't complain, because he welcomed any assistance from Brenda in doing housework he could get. It used to worry him, though, to wake up to a sparkling house and a sleep deprived Brenda, bags under her eyes and an air of stress about her.

He stumbled out of bed and saw her dusting the coffee table. A mountain of folded laundry sat on the couch. She smiled when she saw him.

"Sorry I woke you up so early," she said, her speech rapid. "I guess I'm just jumpin' out of my skin today. I mopped the kitchen floor and finished all the towels, and I'm finishin' up the dustin' now. You finally up to runnin'? I got coffee goin', I could get you a cup—"

He silenced her. "Too…early…for…cleaning…" he said, punctuating each word with a kiss.

She pushed him away, laughing. "Yuk, mornin' breath!"

Fritz reached to grab her around the waist, but she dodged him. She pointed a hand toward the bedroom door. "The only way you're gonna get physical with me is by goin' runnin', Now am I gonna have to drag you into your shorts or what?"

He had to laugh at her, the woman who he used to have to force out of bed to go running with him, and was only successful about once a week. It was like dragging a reluctant toddler into day care. He turned and headed into the bedroom. "You win, Sexy," he said. "But if you change your mind about the form of physical activity, just let me know."

She smirked. "Nice try. Now go."

After a high-octane five mile run, where Fritz had to work to keep up with Brenda's anxiety-fueled pace, they took a long shower together, taking turns to lathering each other up. To his disappointment, the run took Brenda down a few notches, and she resisted his attempt at seduction. "I gotta dry off and straighten my hair. It takes a long time."

"You're turning down sex with me to do your hair? I'm hurt."

She patted him on the cheek. "My heart's breakin', Fritz. You get more sex than any other man around, and you know it."

He looked at her shapely backside as she stepped out of the shower, water dripping down and pooling at the small of her back. He did know it. And he was damn grateful.

---

Fritz handed Brenda her cup of coffee and noticed she was picking at the scrambled eggs he had made for her.

"Eat, honey. Busy day today." He took a long sip of his own java. Ahh, perfection.

She waived her hand. "Orientation starts at nine, and they will probably have breakfast there."

" What's on the agenda for the rest of the day?"

She took a bite of eggs. "I'm meetin' with DA Corning for lunch, and then Sargent Gabriel is gonna take me around the rest of the afternoon and make introductions. Basically I'm just gettin' settled today. David has scheduled a bunch of meetin's the rest of the week, but today is pretty laid back."

"Good. It's nice to be able to ease into a job. And I must say, you look gorgeous." Brenda had straightened her hair, and her makeup was work-light but perfect, a fresh coat of her signature bright lipstick on her lips. She had on a lightweight grey suit on, a new purchase. The blazer had tiny buttons that hugged her figure into a perfect hourglass. After much deliberation last night, Brenda chose a vee-neck red silk shell to wear underneath. Combined with her new black and white Jimmy Choos Fritz had bought her on Rodeo Drive, she looked every bit the high-powered accomplished LA woman she was.

Brenda gave up eating and dumped the rest of her breakfast down the drain, leaving her plate in the sink. "I think I'm gonna head in now, honey, and beat the traffic. David told me where to park and all, but you know me, I might still get lost." She rubbed her palm nervously on her skirt.

Fritz abandoned his own breakfast and pulled her toward him in a tight hug. He could feel the stiffness in her spine, and didn't let go until she relaxed. "You are going to do great today, Brenda," he whispered in her ear.

She pulled back and looked at him. "You mean, if I don't act like a dragon lady."

He released her and tapped her on the nose. "Only act a little bit like a dragon lady. And don't forget to ask Andrea Hobbs out for lunch, okay?"

Brenda made a noise of impatience. "This isn't my first job, you know," she said.

"No, it's not, but it's the first job in this phase of your life. Dedication to the living, remember?"

Brenda sighed, some of her nervousness previously drained from jogging coming back. "Dedication to the livin.'" She reached over and grabbed her huge purse and keys. Fritz glanced at the clock. She was going to get to the DA's office ridiculously early.

"Hey," he caught her by the arm before she could walk out the door, "Text me today and let me know how it's going, and know I'm thinking about you."

She smiled, biting her lip. "You always are, aren't you Fritz? And I'm grateful for that." She grabbed him and gave him a peck on the lips, then was out the door.

He stared at the space she had occupied for a few minutes, then heated up his chilled eggs and finished them slowly. He couldn't help it, he was worried about her. If he had his way, Brenda would have a nice, long time to recover after Stroh attacked her, not start a brand new job a month later, her only "vacation" spent in mourning for her dead mother. Sure, it is vastly better than returning to Major Crimes, but still, starting a new job, especially one with this level of responsibility, was a huge stressor. He wondered if this might trigger more nightmares. Two drama-free nights in a row had been a gift. He didn't know if it was Lily's tea or just luck, but he was grateful for whatever peace they got. He made a mental note to send Lily an e-mail thanking her for the tea and to let her know that it seemed to be helping.

Fritz put his dishes in the dishwasher, along with Brenda's. I'm surprised I don't have more grey hairs, he thought. I can worry with the best of them.

---

Fritz came through the door at 6:30, thrilled to see Brenda's car out front. He put the bag of Thai food on the table and called her name.

She emerged from the bedroom, packing tape in hand. She had already changed out of her work clothes and was wearing a pink sundress. She jogged up to him and gave him a voracious kiss.

"Whoa, you seem to be in a good mood!" Fritz laughed, pulling back from her and looking at her pretty face. "And home by 6:30, I can't believe it!"

She released him and walked into the kitchen, chatting nonstop. "David almost bodily threw me out at 5:30, sayin' things are gonna get busy soon, so I might as well enjoy it now. Which was fine cuz I just had a little bit more packin' to finish. Takes forever, packin' does, doesn't it?" She poured herself a glass of Merlot and him a glass of water, and put plates down on the table.

He looked at the table longingly, thinking about their quickie the previous morning.

Brenda snapped her fingers in front of his face. "I can tell by the look on your face you are not thinkin' about curry, are you, Fritz?" She had her naughty face on.

"Nope," he said, taking off his jacket and sitting down. "I'm thinking of something much spicier going down at this table."

She snorted and helped herself to pad thai.

"So, tell me about your first day." Fritz had gotten a text from her around 2:30 saying all was going well, but no details. "You seem to be in a good mood."

"Oh, it went very well." The way she said it made him a little nervous. It was the tone of voice she used when she rubbed someone's face in their mistake, or got the better of them somehow.

"Brenda…."

A curtain of innocence fell over her face. "What? I was perfectly well-behaved, Fritz. Before you start lecturin' me, let me at least go over my day with you, okay?"

"Okay."

"Orientation was borin,' all about benefits and doin' paperwork and crap like that. I got up to the Investigations Bureau around 12:30, and David showed me to my new office."

"How is it?"

"Smaller than my old one for sure, but a lot nicer. The desk is wood with matchin' filin' cabinets. And I have a great view. I'm gonna bring a few things in tomorrow, but I'll wait until after we move to put up pictures and the like. Oh, and David has his own office too. It's tiny, but it's right next to mine."

"Good. And I assume you found the perfect desk drawer for your chocolate stach?"

"That's what I'm gonna bring in! I saved all the candy the squad gave me in my new purse, and I'm gonna use that to start my new candy drawer."

"I'll tell that to the guys next time I see them."

"Or don't. Rios might overhear you. I got an earful about her today, but I'll talk to you about that later."

"Okay. What did you do in the afternoon?"

"Well, like I said, I had lunch with the DA Corning. He had Italian food brought in, and we ate with the other Division heads. And before you ask, I was very well mannered. Mama would have been proud."

"I have no doubt."

Anyways, DA Corning, Steve, is real nice. The DA's may hate me but he really seems to like me for some reason."

Fritz felt a shiver of jealousy. He knew how attracted to Brenda men were, and he couldn't help himself. "He really likes, you, huh?"

Brenda put down her fork. "You are not gonna get all jealous on me, Fritz, for heaven's sake! I really hate that side of you. I understand where that came from with Will Pope, but are you gonna act like a crazy jealous husband with all my bosses?" She was frowning at him.

He hung his head. "Consider me chastised. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a jerk."

He could tell she was struggling with whether or not to throw a fit. She picked up her spring roll and picked at it.

He decided to get back in her good graces with humor. "Besides, I've seen DA Corning. I'm younger and much better looking."

She glared at him. "You want to hear the rest of my story or what?"

He nodded, glad they were moving on from his spout of insecurity. "As I was sayin," she said, giving him stink eye, " we had lunch in Steve's conference room, and then he took me around the office, introducin' me to everyone and showin' me where things were." She paused dramatically and took a swig of her wine.

"So we're walking down the hall toward the break room, and I hear this horrible screechin' sound. I almost had to cover my ears." Her lips were twisted in a smile.

Here we go, he thought.

"And that would be…"

"Remember Clair Baldwin? That really mean DA I worked with on that case where the two guys were druggin and rapin' women in a hotel room?"

The case where you met up with Stroh again, but you can't stand to say his name. "Yea, I remember. Let me guess, you ran into her."

Brenda shook her head. "Let me finish!"

He sighed and nodded. I don't have a good feeling about this.

"So I hear Baldwin's nails-on-a-chalkboard voice, and she's rantin' and ravin' at top volume about—guess who? Yup, me. It was all, 'I can't believe they hired that bitch, she's crazy,' and 'what the hell was Corning thinkin'?' I don't think I've been called a bitch that much since I was married the first time.'"

"Oh Brenda," he groaned.

She ignored him. "And then I realize she's talking to Andrea, who told Baldwin she was the one who suggested I get offered the job as head of Investigations, and then Baldwin starts in on her, askin' her how she could be so stupid, I was gonna make life miserable for all the DA's, and on and on. I have to hand it to her, Andrea kept her cool."

"Did you?"

"Oh, as cool as a cucumber!" she said lightly, helping herself to more massaman curry. "Steve wasn't, though. His face was bright red and he looked like he was gonna have a stroke. And it was clear he didn't know what to do or say, because it wasn't like he could pretend we didn't hear that, could he? So I just walked past him into the break room."

"You didn't." He knew she did.

"And there was Baldwin, lookin' as pissed off as Steve, all up in Andrea's face. When she turned and saw me, she practically choked. It was like somebody hit the mute button on her big fat mouth. And the best, oh the best was when the DA walked in behind me." Brenda laughed. "Baldwin looked ready to faint, and Steve was about to burst a blood vessel, and Andrea was just leanin' back in her chair, takin' it all in."

"Get to the worst of it, Brenda. What did you say to her?"

Brenda looked deeply offended. "I can't believe, Fritz, that after you gave me that talkin' to last night about bein' a good girl, you would think I'd go and somethin' rude on my first day at work. On the contrary, I was my best, sweet-as-molasses Southern self. I walked over to Baldwin and picked up her hand and told her how very very pleased I was to be seein' her again, and that I really looked forward to workin' closely together. I did some more gushin' about how welcomin' everyone in the DA's office has been to me, and I knew I was really gonna like it here. I said I really wanted to get to know the attorneys better on a personal level, and then I turned and asked Andrea if we could go out to lunch some time this week. She gave me this huge smile and said she'd love to." She looked like the cat who swallowed the canary.

"What did Baldwin say?"

"Nothin.' Not one single word. I'm tellin' you, Fritz, she had a look of horror frozen on her face. She knew Corning and I had heard every word she said."

"You made sure she knew you and Steve heard every word she said."

"In a very subtle way. I'm good at that, you know."

"DA Corning must have been mortified. What did he do?"

"Well, first he escorted me out of the room, and I saw him linger and say a few words to Claire that looked like 'I want you in my office.' Andrea confirmed later Baldwin got completely chewed out. Karma can be a bitch, right? Anyways, he started to apologize, but I just turned the charm back on and told him it didn't matter, let's keep on with the tour."

Fritz shook his head. "You couldn't have gone in there and pretended you didn't hear a word, could you?"

Brenda rubbed her chin, as if thinking. "No, I really couldn't have. But I could have gone in and eviscerated her for calling me all those names, and I didn't. It really was the kinder, gentler me." She reached out and tapped his hand. "In fact, I think I grew a little today," she said smugly.

"Smart-ass," Fritz said. He couldn't help but crack a smile. He really wanted Brenda to not come on a strong as she usually did, to allow the chance for relationships to form at work, but he couldn't blame her for what she did. And it was very classic Brenda cocktail: Southern Comfort with a venom twist.

"But movin' on. Andrea stopped by my office later on with a cup of coffee. She pulled up a chair and gave me the low down on some of the DA politics. .She said she's just gettin' started, and the conversation will be continued over lunch tomorrow. I like her, Fritz. You're right, I'm gonna focus on the fact that I have allies at the DA's office. Gabriel is already there, and people love him. Andrea likes me. Steve Corning thinks I walk on water."

Fritz loved what he was hearing. Brenda was looking at her job not just for the number of bad guys she could crush…but at the good guys she can call allies. This was progress.

"I think you walk on water too."

"Oh stop. Let me tell you about what Andrea said about Emma Rios."

"Did you ask or did she volunteer?"

"I think her name came up in conversation, when we were talking about Major Crimes. Andrea really likes working with us, er, them, but then Rios got hired, and I guess part of her job description is that she is gonna be on the ground with all the big cases. Andrea will still handle some, but she essentially got pretty much squeezed out, and she's not happy about it."

"Neither is anyone else. Provenza said he's been wanting her to come in and replace Rios on cases, but it's not going to happen."

"I said—quite diplomatically I might add—that I heard Rios was challenging to work with. And Andrea just went off. I guess everyone hates her, and she just started a few months ago. Like you said, she was a star prosecutor in San Francisco, but just got divorced from this really rich fatcat attorney up there, and came to LA to be near her family. Andrea said she drives a late model BMW, so she must have made out pretty good in that divorce settlement."

"The guy probably paid her to go away," Fritz said uncharitably.

Brenda shrugged. "Don't know. But it sounds like at the rate she's goin', the criminals are gonna like her more than her co-workers."

Fritz found Brenda sitting a couple of hours later in the semi darkness in the living room, nursing a glass of Merlot. Her elation while recounting her first day atwork over dinner seemed to have deflated. He sat down next to her on the couch and put his arm around her.

"You okay? Just tired from your first day?" He twisted a strand of her blonde hair around his finger.

She looked down at her glass, and the aura of sadness that had surrounded her for the past couple of months was thicker than it had been since her return. He instantly went on alert.

"Hey honey, what's going on? You seem blue all of a sudden." He reached out and caressed her cheek.

She raised her eyes and looked at him. "I was just thinkin', " she said softly.

"Thinking is good. Care to share what has gotten you down?"

She cleared her throat and placed her wine glass on the coffee table, then turned to smile weakly at him. "It's gonna sound silly."

He picked up her hands in his. "Brenda, nothing you share with me is silly. Please don't ever think that, not for a second."

She nodded. "It's something you said when we were talkin' about Emma Rios, how mean she is and all. I told you what her story was, that she just got divorced from some rich guy in San Francisco, and you kidded that he probably paid her to get away from him."

He had no idea where she was going with this, but it was clear that what he had said bothered her. "That was crass. She may be unpleasant, but I shouldn't be laughing over her private life, which is none of my business."

"No, it's okay Fritzy, you are the nicest guy I know, and you we were just kiddin' around. I was the one who was bein' the gossip, not you. That's not what has me upset." She shook her head. "It's just that it got me thinkin', about how you told me to try and be nicer in my new job, and you're right, you're completely right about that. But it got me to thinkin' about all the times when I wasn't so nice, all the times when I acted like Emma Rios and people thought I was pretty evil. And I was hard on the people I worked with, but that side of me was hardest on you. Wasn't it?"

She looked at him expectantly, her eyes wet.

"You can be difficult, but so can I. It's nothing to stew over, Brenda, really. It's in the past."

"But I don't want to be like that anymore!" she said emphatically. "I mean, I don't really care that much what people at work think about me, although you're right, I'm gonna try and get on with people better now, but I do care that I treat you the way you deserve to be treated. And I guess that's why your little joke about Emma got my head spinnin." She took his hands in his. "I don't ever want to lose you, Fritz. It would tear me to pieces. "

"I'm not going anywhere, honey," he said. He had a feeling where this might be leading.

"You say that, but I want to learn from my past mistakes to guarantee it. Fritz, I need to know somethin', and I need to you to be completely honest with me. Promise?"

"Brenda, we don't' need to—"

"Promise me!" She squeezed his hands.

"Alright, I will. I just don't want to hurt you."

"Truth hurts, but it's the cure for what ails me."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded.

"Fritzy," Brenda said, after taking a deep breath, "did you ever seriously consider leavin' me?"

He silently groaned, not understanding why she felt she had to torture herself about this now. But before he could protest, she said, "honest, Fritz. You promised to be honest."

She was looking at him so earnestly, and she was right: the truth was something she ran away from for so long, so he shouldn't hold now that she finally wanted to stand in one place.

Before he spoke, he had to break her earnest gaze, or the words would cut like barbed wire coming out of his mouth. "Yes. I almost left you once. But you already knew that, Brenda. You just convinced yourself it never happened."

Five Years Ago

Fritz pulled his car close to the curb and cut the engine and stared up at the small brick apartment building. Light spilled into the night through the occasional window, but the place was mostly dark. He glanced at the dashboard clock. 3:00AM. Everyone was asleep. One of the illuminated windows came from his old condo. It had been a great space: not terribly large, but comfortable enough for one person. It made him sad to sell it when he'd moved in with Brenda.

Tonight, he wished he hadn't.

Fritz looked at the small bodega across the street where he used to get milk sometimes, and there was a nice little park that had a good jogging path for his morning runs. His old neighborhood was close to work, closer than the duplex is, and it was the perfect combination of affordable rent and low crime. Yes, he thought. I'll try and move back here.

That thought reached out and slapped him across the face. Had he made a decision? He didn't remember consciously making a decision. But what flitted through his mind, well, if that wasn't a decision, he didn't know what was.

Fritz lowered his head onto the steering wheel, the bounding in his temple becoming too much for him. His eyes were gritty, his head hurt from lack of sleep, and his stomach was tight from a mixture of anxiety, anger, and the horrible sinking feeling one gets when everything is falling apart. I want to sleep for a decade and wake up and find that this has all been a bad dream, he thought. Brenda didn't betray me and I'm not planning on leaving her.

One of the things that bothered Fritz the most, and oh, there were so many things that bothered him about what Brenda had done—was that she had the chance to give his career the boost he had always given hers. All the murders he had worked on with her over the past four years, the favors he had called in, and the extra hours and misuse of Bureau resources, just so she could close a case...whatever she wanted, he helped her with it. He never hesitated. And here was an opportunity for Brenda to help Fritz out with his biggest case, his three year long stint on the Drug Task Force. Ben Masters' killer could have been a vital confidential informant inside of el Jeffe's cartel, and if Fritz was the one to catch him, the professional rewards would have been great. And all she had to do was give him the right address, nothing more…but she intentionally screwed him over. Intentionally. It wasn't one of those times when she forgot he was alive because she was too focused on her case, no, it wasn't her benign neglect. She knew what she was doing. And besides the obvious issues of love, trust, the basic tenant of a relationship being you don't screw over your significant other, he couldn't get past that Brenda so easily could have helped his career without lifting a finger. Yet she chose to go to great efforts to sabotage it.

Fritz rubbed his weary face, the familiar ache of unleashed tears returning to his eyes. His mouth was dry and without turning his head, he blindly felt around for the water bottle next to him. He drained it in a few gulps, the lukewarm water doing nothing for his fatigue. Instead of thinking about their fight that morning, the defiant tilt to her chin and her refusal to admit that what she did was very, very wrong, he thought of furniture. I still have some in storage from when I moved into her bungalow. I'll have to buy a new bed, but that's okay. That leather couch is mine. She will just have to buy a new one. I'll take half the dishes, she never cooks anyways. In his mind's eye he was flipping through his own little "House Beautiful," picturing his future apartment, neat as a pin and a respite from the talons of Brenda Leigh Johnson. Curtains. I gave away all my curtains. Where do you go to buy curtains?

He jerked upwards so fast he hit his head on the back of the seat. He was planning on breaking up with his fiancée, the love of his life, and he was thinking about curtains.

Just pouring myself a mental drink, he thought. All day long he fought off the desperate desire for a real one. His world was crumbling, and all we wanted was to be numb, to chase the pain away for awhile. After going to two straight AA meetings, he reluctantly went into a noon meeting at the Bureau in which he had gotten his ass handed to him. Fritz had felt so miserable walking in there that he didn't have far to fall, although some of the choice names his boss had used for Brenda bothered him, but not all that much. Jerry was, to his surprise, also angry at him. He had expected a little backup from his best friend, but what he had gotten was entirely different. "I've been telling you for four years, Fritz, to dump that woman. She treats you like dirt and you just stand there and take it, which, as awful as it is to watch, if that's how you want to live your life, fine, that's your choice. But the crap she pulled affected all of us on that stakeout last night, not just you." Jerry eventually calmed down, but by then Fritz had signed out for the rest of the day. He called his sponsor Jonas and met him at his house at five. His wife made the two men dinner and let them eat in private. Jonas kept him until he felt Fritz wasn't going to drive straight to a bar. At midnight, he climbed into his car, but the closer he got the duplex, the more he dreaded facing Brenda again. Going to Jerry's for the night was out of the question. Intending to stay at a motel, he drove around for awhile, and by the time he mentally tuned in again, it was the middle of the night. Now he didn't know what to do.

There was a slight vibrating sound on the passenger's seat, and Fritz had to resist the urge to roll down the window and chuck out his cell phone. Brenda had left numerous messages and a couple dozen texts. He didn't read or listen to any of them, just like he had no intention of answering the phone now. He had nothing to say to her. He was too tired even to yell.

He did the math. It was the middle of the month, so if he went apartment hunting immediately, he could get something for the first of next month. He would just have to find somewhere else to live for a couple of weeks, no big deal. Jonas had offered his guest room to Fritz for the night, but Fritz had declined, which at the moment he deeply regretted. Jonas had a big house and a kind wife, so maybe he would offer to host Fritz for the duration of breakup limbo. If Jerry offered, well, Fritz would pay a high price for that hospitality, seeing how Jerry felt about Brenda. One thing at a time, he told himself. Find apartment. Move out. Move in. Buy curtains. It was easy.

And there he was again, in that land of denial. In all his planning for his exit, picturing his new apartment and the perfect curtains, hadn't thought about Brenda's reaction. Because right now I really don't give a shit, he thought. He almost laughed, a nervous, exhaustion-induced, near hysterical laugh. Maybe she won't give a shit. Maybe she'll come home one day and half the stuff in the apartment will be gone, and as long as there is a wine glass and a bottle of Merlot, it won't bother her one bit. He could see it in his mind's eye, the Theatre of the Absurd, Brenda coming home night after night at 11PM, not noticing Fritz was gone until there were no more Ho-Hos and she ran out of clean underwear.

Can I really just walk out on her like that? Hand over my key, tell her she makes enough to handle the rent on her own, ask for the Tiffany ring back, and move on with my life? Yes, he knew he could. He was a strong man. He had survived a rough childhood and had lived through his fair shares of adult struggles. He could extricate himself from this relationship if he had to.

Fritz just wasn't sure he wanted to. There was a part of him, that nice-guy part of him that he held on to, that he nurtured into being and flourished into a reliable, stable man in his four years with Brenda, that wanted to be fair to her, although he didn't believe she deserved it.

"I can't just walk out," he said out loud, startling himself, the harsh edge to his voice cutting though the silence of the car and jarring his frayed nerves He had to talk to her and tell her he couldn't do this, he couldn't do them, anymore. And if she asked why, he'd tell her, sparing her no details. He had no idea how she would respond. What she did from thereon out, and if it would chang the course of things, he didn't know. He doubted she could do anything to explain herself and her behavior, or convince him that she really did love him.

He had to go home. The clock read 3:15, too late to check into a hotel. He hoped Brenda was out on a case so he could slip in, shower and collapse into bed in peace. A quick glimpse of his cell showed her most recent calls were from the land line, so she wasn't on a case. Maybe she'll be sound asleep. I can't handle anymore drama tonight.

He shook his head to wake himself and reluctantly started the engine.

…

Brenda was at his car before he even had the chance to put it in park. As soon as Fritz pulled up in front of the apartment, he saw a curtain rustling, and Brenda sprinted out. Her feet were bare, and she was wearing wrinkled sweatpants. She clearly hadn't been asleep as he had hoped. She smacked on the driver's side window, calling his name.

So much for slipping in, he thought. If she's in the mood to fight, I just can't do it. He opened the car, and Brenda quickly moved so the door wouldn't hit her. She lunged for him, arms outstretched. He grabbed her by the forearm to stop her, surprised by the attempted hug, and certainly not welcoming it. She didn't seem shocked by his reaction, and quickly pulled back, wrapping her arms around her.

"Fritz, I was so worried about you! I didn't know where you were. I called and called and you weren't answering. I was so afraid, I was so afraid…" her voice drifted off, and she leaned close to him, taking a not so subtle whiff.

If Fritz weren't in such bad shape, he would have laughed. "If you are trying to find of if I've been out drinking, I haven't." He brushed past her and headed to the back door. Brenda followed him closely and entered the kitchen right behind him.

He turned to look at her, taking in her appearance. Brenda's face was pasty white, a contrast to her red eyes and smudged mascara. Her lower lip had been chewed bloody. Her hair was out of control, frizzy and wild, as if she had been running her hands though it all night. She was a mess.

"I was callin' emergency rooms when you pulled up," she said, her voice small. " I was so worried, Fritz. I thought you would be at Jerry's but when he said he hadn't seen you since this afternoon, all kinds of crazy things went through my head…" she drifted off, staring at him earnestly.

"Wait, you called Jerry?" he barked. He was miffed his friend got dragged into this drama.

She nodded. "Don't be mad, Fritz. I called him around midnight, when it was clear you weren't comin' home. I thought for sure you were bunkin' with him but I wanted to check, but when you weren't there, Jerry got real worried too. Said he called your cell a bunch of times and didn't get an answer, just like me. I know you don't want to talk to me, but when Jerry called back and said he couldn't reach you either, I really started to panic." Brenda's voice was shaky, and he knew her control was tenuous.

Fritz pulled out his cell and sent Jerry a quick text: "Home safe and sober. Sorry for the worry." A minute later, Jerry texted back, "Thank god. B was going nuts. Don't pull that shit again. TTY 2rrow." Fritz felt a pang of guilt. Of course everyone would think he was getting drunk. A stressful event and then not answering his cell for hours…he'd be calling hospitals too.

He put down his phone and looked at Brenda, shaking slightly in her brown comfort sweater, eyes brimming with tears. He opened his mouth to tell her he was going to bed, but she spoke first.

"Oh Fritzy, I'm so sorry about everythin'. About lyin' about the stakeout. About bein' such a jerk this mornin' I'm really sorry for all of it." She sounded desperate.

He squinted at her, took in her disheveled appearance, her nails bitten to the quick. Gone was the defiance, the hardness about her eyes she adapted when she was challenged. In its place was her rarely seen vulnerable side, and something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Contrition?

"Why are you apologizing now?" he said harshly. "This morning everything you did was because of your crusade for justice. Are you acting like this because you thought I was dead in a ditch somewhere?"

She lowered her eyes and shook her head slightly. "N-no, Fritz. I had someone point out how pigheaded I was bein'."

"Who?" He wondered if Jerry lit into her.

"Mama," she said softly.

He was surprised. Brenda kept so many secrets from her parents, he didn't think she would turn to her mother in the middle of the worst fight of their relationship.

"You told your mother what happened?"

Brenda pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, gesturing for Fritz to do the same. He remained standing. Brenda looked embarrassed.

"Mama called tonight," she started, staring at her hands "And the only reason I answered was cuz I thought it might be you, and I grabbed the phone without checkin' the Caller ID. I tried to sound like everythin' is fine, but you know how Mama is, she has some kind of sixth sense for these kind of things. Of course, I did answer the phone yellin' 'Fritz!' instead of hello, so that might have tipped her off. So she wheedled the story out of me." Brenda rubbed her eyes.

Fritz believed it. Willie Rae was much more subtle than Brenda, but the woman could milk anyone for information almost as well as her CIA-trained daughter. He remembered when Brenda came home with a SWAT detail after getting shot at. Willie Rae quickly assessed the situation and was able to get details from the two lunkhead SWAT boys within five minutes. It was impressive.

Brenda continued. "I was just too stressed out from worryin' about you to fend her off, you know? Well, when I told her—" her voice faltered— "what I did, she started yellin', and Mama's not a yeller. We've had plenty of fights, and she likes to make her point all cold and deadly. But she sure was hollerin' at me tonight." Brenda half-laughed, half sobbed.

Fritz was curious. "What did she say?"

Brenda waved her hand in the air. "All kinds of awful things. I'm selfish and I treat you like crap. That she and Daddy didn't raise me to be this kind of person, and what the heck was wrong with me. She said you deserve someone who treats you better than I do." Her brimming eyes spilled over.

Fritz couldn't disagree with most of what Willie Rae said. "That's what made you apologize?" he asked.

Brenda used a napkin to wipe her wet face. "No, she said somthin' else. When she was startin' to calm down, she told me she's watched me keep people at arm's length my entire life. She thinks me messin' up your case was one last chance to push you away before we got married." She grabbed another napkin and buried her face in it, silently crying.

He watched her dispassionately. Brenda was a great actress, no doubt, but she seemed genuinely distressed. "Is she right, Brenda? Is that why you lied to me and set me up? So I'd leave you?"

She shook her head violently, her face still covered by the napkin. "I don't know, I just don't know, Fritz. And I couldn't spend any time delvin' my innermost self tonight to figure it out. I was too busy worryin' about you and figurin' out if you had fallen off the wagon cuz of me." She took a shuttering breath and blew her nose, and finally looked at him. "Are you gonna leave me, Fritz? Was my Mama right?"

He was too tired to lie, too exhausted to put his filter in place to protect her feelings. It's not like she cares a lot about mine. "I think I am, Brenda. But not tonight." He turned, his body feeling like the blood in his veins had been replaced with concrete. Without meaning to, he looked back at her. She was frozen in place, a still life, her features a mixture of shock and fear. Fritz couldn't even tell is she was breathing, but at that moment, he didn't care to check. All he cared about was falling asleep. He kept walking toward the back of the apartment.

"I'm taking our bed," he called over his shoulder. "You get the guest room."

…

Fritz didn't wake up until close to 1PM the next afternoon. His limbs felt heavy and that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach was still there, and he knew he needed to take a run to get his body and mind going. He learned from his drinking days that if he didn't stop himself when depression and stress threatened to envelop him, he spiraled down very quickly.

He walked through the kitchen on the way to the back door, hoping that there might be some coffee left over from Brenda's breakfast. He was so fixated on finding some caffeine and then hitting the road that he almost didn't notice her sitting at the table. She was wearing the exact same outfit as the night before, more wrinkled now and a little stained. Her face was puffy and blotchy, her eyes blood red. She had pulled her hair back, which might have contributed to her looking so fragile to him. He had never seen her look worse. Stranger still was she didn't speak when he walked into the room.

"Brenda, have you been sitting here since I last saw you?" It was impossible not to be worried.

She shook her head, seemingly unwilling to speak.

"Did you sleep at all?"

She look toward the living room and nodded her head, and Fritz surmised she had slept on the couch.

"Are you okay?" Stupid question.

She shook her head again. "You're leavin' me," she croaked, her voice harsh and thick.

"Right now I'm going out running." He was impatient. He wanted out of that kitchen, away from this broken form of Brenda, and into the wide, clean world. He needed to take deep gulps of clean air to purge his body of the misery that oozed from every pore.

"Then you're comin' back and leavin' me," she said, not meeting his eyes.

A flash of anger crackled through him. Why did she get to play the broken one, when he was the one betrayed? She deserves to feel this bad.

For the second time in 12 hours, he turned away from her pain, too mired in his own to care. He gave up on finding coffee and opened the back door. "I'm coming back and showering, Brenda, that's what I'm doing. Beyond that I don't know." He jerked the door shut and started to walk away from the duplex, but the image of her haunted eyes snagged at his conscience. He opened the door again and stuck his head through.

"Take a shower, Brenda," he said, more gently. "And eat something. You look terrible. We will talk when I get back." Before she could answer, he was off, unstretched and stiff but he didn't care. He felt free.

…

An hour later he returned, tee shirt drenched with sweat despite the cool down, and his hair soaking wet. Once he had warmed up he ran hard, losing himself in the purifying sensations of blood pumping through muscles, lungs filling with air and then exhaling, only to breathe deep again, sweat dripping down his back and face, all to the clop-clop-clop cadence of his feet on the pavement. Brenda was waiting for him in the kitchen, dressed now in a faded pair of jeans and a lavender sweater, clearly having taken his advice. Her wet hair was drying in ringlets around her face, and she had even put on a little makeup. She attempted a weak smile when he came in.

"I'll make lunch," she said, getting up and going to the fridge.

"Good, " he nodded, then, when he couldn't think of anything else to say, he walked to the bathroom, stripped, and got in the shower.

Is this what it feels like when a relationship ends? he thought. There's no yelling and screaming, just a cold, awkward silence that engulfs two people who don't have anything to say to each other, their relationship swallowed by a vacuum where love used to be. I'd prefer shouting to this. He dried off and threw on some clothes, and went to find Brenda.

She had set out sandwiches for them on the dining room table, along with sliced fruit and iced tea. She was waiting for him, leaning against the wall, her cheeks wet. She wiped her face when she saw him and sat down, waiting for him to do the same.

But he had something to say first. "I don't know if I'm leaving or not. What you did shook my faith in you to the core, but even more than that, it made me question if you really love me at all." She started to interrupt him and he waved her off. "But I made a decision last night that I couldn't just announce I was moving out, not without letting you know exactly how angry and hurt I am, and why I'm not sure if I can stay in this relationship." Her eyes filled up when he said that. "So here I am, and I promise I'm not going to storm out of here, not without us talking about it for a good long while. I'm here, but I need space, Brenda. I need to be able to talk to you, but for once, it needs to be on my time table, not yours. Can you live with that, or do you want me to stay somewhere else while I figure all of this out?"

"No, no Fritzy, please stay here. I'll give you all the space in the world. I'll stay in the guest room. We can talk whenever you want, however you want. Just please stay." She covered her mouth and the look of fear he saw in her eyes the previous night gave him pause. She's terrified of losing me, he thought. Good.

Fritz sat down at the table, and despite his less than caring internal monologue, took her small hand in his. Brenda jumped at his touch, then looked profoundly grateful. "I need a few days, Brenda. I need to figure out if we are worth saving." His throat closed when he said this, the reality of the weight of this decision hitting him. "I need time to sift through the wreckage of what happened this week."

"Take what you need, Fritz," her childlike voice came from behind her hand. But please know-" with great effort she uncovered her mouth and looked him directly in the eye—"that I love you."

They spent a week in Limbo, living separate lives in the same house. He wasn't ready for the huge fight they needed, so he mostly kept to himself. Brenda looked like a skittish colt, all big eyes and heightened senses, afraid anything she said or did might make him grab a suitcase and go. It was uncomfortable for a man who preferred to confront problems head on, but he had deep wounds to lick, and time was what he needed. He caught Brenda staring at him on numerous occasions, her expression so full of pathos it made his angry heart ache. Both of them were slowly dying.

On the sixth night, Fritz woke up alone in the master bedroom when he heard a sound outside the door. He opened his eyes and saw Brenda in a filmy white nightgown standing in the just inside the bedroom, watching him intently. When he said her name, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Jesus Christ Fritz, you nearly scared me half to death," she said, putting her hand over heart. He could hear her panting. "I had no idea you were awake."

"Obviously," he said groggily. "What are you doing in here, watching me sleep? It's kind of creepy."

She was quiet for a minute. "Since all of this started, I wake up a few times a night and come in to make sure you're still here."

"Where else would I be?"

"Gone. Left me."

"In the middle of the night?"

She shrugged and said nothing. She turned to leave, but Fritz called out her name. "Are you getting any sleep at all? You look terrible."

She faced him and smiled slightly. "That's the second time you've said that. And no, not much sleep." She played nervously with the sleeve of her gown.

Impulsively, he threw back the covers to her side of the bed and patted it. "It's okay, Brenda. Come sleep in here."

She hesitated and started to back up, as if it were a trap. "You said you need space…"

"And now I need you in our bed, so both of us can get a decent night's sleep." He pulled the covered back even further in invitation, and slowly Brenda came forward, as if she expected him to change his mind at any minute. She slid in the bed and pulled the covers up, but huddled close to the edge.

Fritz rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but the tension in Brenda's body was interfering with his ability to relax. After a few minutes of listening to her stilted breathing, he rolled over and put his arms around her. They almost ached on contact: he didn't' realize how much he missed holding her.

"Why are you doin' this?" she said, her body sill ramrod straight.

"Because I guess I missed you," he said softly, recognizing the truth is his words. A chunk of his resentment and bitter anger broke loose and floated away the second she admitted she got up every night to make sure he hadn't left.

He pulled her tighter to him, and she finally released her muscles. She went limp in his arms, and a few seconds later, her face was buried in his neck. "I'm so sorry, so sorry," she whispered, grabbing at him so strongly it was as if she was trying to pull him into her. He felt her tears, heavy and hot, roll down his neck.

He knew then he wouldn't leave her. Wouldn't or couldn't, it didn't matter. For all her faults, for all their problems, Brenda meant too much to him.

"Easy honey," he whispered in her ear, stroking her back. "Easy. Just go to sleep, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Her breath hitched and she pulled from him enough to speak. "Tonight, you mean. You mean you aren't goin' anywhere just for tonight." Her voice quivered.

Fritz sighed and kissed the top of her head. "No Brenda. I mean I'm not leaving. Ever."

Brenda let out a great deep sigh, like the release of air from a hot air balloon, and she melded herself against him, her body trembling. She said nothing, but Fritz could almost feel the toxic mix of fear and worry drain from her small body as she cried. They fell asleep that way, Brenda silently sobbing and Fritz stroking her hair, wondering where they would go from here.

Dawn had just made its impending presence known and lightened the darkness in the room from black to grey when the phone rang. Fritz reached out and grabbed it on the second ring, barely able .to reach it because Brenda was so entwined with him. It was Sergeant Gabriel, who apologized for calling on the house phone, but he had tried Brenda's cell several times and couldn't reach her. It occurred to Fritz that her cell was probably next to the bed in the guest room, since her relocation last night was unexpected. Gabriel said they picked up a double homicide in the Hollywood Hills, and the Chief was needed.

Perfect timing, Fritz grumbled to himself. We're finally at the point where we're ready to talk and she's going to disappear. He shook her a bit harder than he needed to, and her eyes popped open, confused. When she looked at him she smiled, tentatively, then frowned when she saw the phone in his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, " she mumbled, taking the phone from him. Fritz lay back down on the pillow and fumed. He knew the timing wasn't her fault, but he was still angry.

He barely heard her hang up the phone, and nearly jumped when she placed her hand on his arm. "Fritzy?"

"A case. You're leaving. Got it." He rolled away from her.

Silence for a beat. "We need to talk, Fritz. I'll be home as soon as I can, I'm sorry…"

He put the pillow over his head. He didn't want to hear her apologize any more.

….

He had been going to AA Meetings every night for the extra support ever since this crisis with Brenda had started, and tonight was no different. He picked up Kung Pao Chicken for one, and got home around 8:00. He came in through the back door, flipping through the mail, and almost ran straight into Brenda.

"Whoa! I've got somethin' hot here, be careful Fritz!" she cried.

She was wearing one of her 1950's aprons, and her hair was pulled up in a sloppy bun. If he wasn't mad at her he would have swept her up in a kiss.

"What in the world are you doing home, Brenda?" he asked, looking around. The kitchen was a disaster, and there was the warm homey scent of dinner in the air. "You caught a case this morning. I didn't think I'd see you for days."

Brenda put the meatloaf she was holding down on a hot pad and brushed the hair off her face. "We got the guy. Flynn and Provenza arrested him a couple of hours ago and Gabriel and I interviewed a witness and we figured out who it was pretty quick. He lawyered up immediately so I'm not gonna bother with him until tomorrow. The rest of the squad is searchin' his house right now, and will let me know what they found in the mornin'." She turned and walked over the stove to tend to the potatoes.

Fritz was stunned. Brenda had a fresh suspect sitting at Parker Center while she's making meatloaf? Since when doesn't she pounce on a perp, no matter what they've said about wanting a lawyer? And waiting until tomorrow to find out what was found during a search… He shook his head.

"You mean to tell me you basically left Provenza in charge of a murder investigation? Who are you and what have you done with my fiancée?"

Brenda turned around, took off her oven mitts, and crossed her arms over her chest. "We need to talk, Fritz. And I was very afraid that the progress we made last night would go away if I disappeared in a murder investigation, and I'd come home to an empty apartment." She cleared her throat, uncrossed her arms, straightened her back, and looked him square in the eye. "I am not goin' to lose you, Fritz Howard," she said, her voice firm, the first sighting of the tough, brash Brenda he had seen in days. "And I am not givin' up on us without a fight. I know what I did was very wrong and I'm ownin' up to that. But you don't think I love you as much as I do, and I'm sure you're pretty mad at me still, so I think we have some things to talk about. So let's talk, and fight, and get everythin' out, as ugly as it might be, cuz I believe with my whole heart we have somethin' worth goin' to the mat for."

" So you delegated so we could talk?"

She nodded. "I had Sargent Gabriel drop me off after our last interview, so that's why my car isn't here. I couldn't get groceries, so I made do with what he had here. I don't think we should be fightin' on an empty stomach, do you?"

Something about that made him smile. "I guess not. Need help?"

"Set the table, please. Just don't use the good plates. If we start throwin' things, I don't want those to get broken."

….

That night they talked, yelled, fought for hours. Fritz didn't hold back. He said everything he needed to say to Brenda, showed her the wound left by her betrayal , turned out the pockets of his soul and revealed all his insecurities borne of her neglect, of putting him a distant second to her job. He told her what it felt like, night after night, to be alone in the house, his calls unreturned, wondering if she even remembered she had a fiancé. And he wondered out loud if he could possibly tolerate a lifetime of this loneliness.

Fritz had to give her a lot of credit. Brenda listened to him without interrupting, closing her eyes at times from the harshness of his words, but refrained from her usual barrage of defensiveness. When he was done, she wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, and asked if it was her turn.

And then Brenda told him how hard every day was for her, how she knew every single male eye at the LAPD, hell, the city, was on her, waiting for her to screw up. She had to be better than the best, tougher than the meanest beat cop to earn the tiniest scrap of respect. She was one lost case, she told him, one unsolved murder away from losing her job. The vultures were always circling, and all her accomplishments would be forgotten instantly if one of her cases got botched. Pope could only protect her so much, and she felt like she walked around with the weight of the universe on her shoulders. She acknowledged her neglectfulness and apologized, promised to do better, but said, "Fritz, it's like when you're treadin' water for ten hours, you're just tryin' to get a breath, and wavin' at the lifeguard seems almost impossible."

Fritz was about to ask her if he were the lifeguard in this scenario, but she continued talking.

And then she got down to the root of it all. Why did she lie to him and send him on a fake stakeout? He watched her eyes well up for the countless time that week, but this time, she wiped them and continued talking, her voice never wavering. Her mother was right, she said. She was terrified of getting married. And getting hurt. Because she loves Fritz so hard it scares the hell out of her. But nothing scared her more than the idea of losing him.

He saw honesty in her eyes, a pure vulnerability he had never seen before, and he held his arms open for her. She collapsed into him, and he let the tears he had held back the entire week fall down his cheeks. She loved him. Somehow they could work out the rest, they could patch together a marriage that would work, as long as she loved him.

They talked until there was nothing more to say, but so much to feel. He took her to bed and they made love for hours, the taste and feel of her skin both familiar and new at the same time. I'm home, he thought sleepily as he drifted off, mentally and physically drained. I'm home and I'm never leaving.

Brenda looked like she had been slapped. "Oh, of course. That time."

"Yes, Brenda. That time. That really really awful week where we lived together but I had basically decided to leave you. Remember now?"

She paled and reached out and placed a hand on his knee. "I remember, Fritz. I just like to conveniently shove things in the back of my mind so I don' have to think about them, like you do to clothes you don't like in a closet. I'm sorry. That's one thing I wanna stop doin'." She shook her head. "God, that was one of the worst weeks of my entire life."

"Me too, honey." The misery of that time came flooding back to him.

"That's why I asked. Besides—that awful time—was there any other time you were plottin' an escape?"

"Brenda, are you a glutton for punishment?"

"No, but like I said, I need a little truth. So was there?"

He bit back a smile. "Well, there was one other time I wanted to leave. But the urge only lasted an hour."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "An hour? What did I do to set you off, and what changed your mind?"

7 Years Ago

Fritz stood in the living room on the phone, rivulets of sweat running down his back, muscles aching from carrying all his things into Brenda's house without the help he had expected. Before she called, his ire at her taking off that morning was all but forgotten, and he was dreaming of a cool shower and making a simple dinner for the two of them on a their first official night living together. And now this.

He knew what she wanted the second her tone turned sickly sweet and she mentioned her mother was coming to town for a surprise visit. Fritz pulled the phone away and took some deep cleansing breaths, lest some of the unpleasant thoughts bounding through is mind fell out his lips and into Brenda's ears.

Reluctantly Fritz offered to repack and remove his newly imprinted presence from her home, but before Brenda could start gushing gratefully, he added one condition: he'd be stopping by for dinner the next night to be properly introduced to Brenda's mother, or it was over. If she in any way hemmed or hawed at this, Fritz silently swore he would not only leave everything as is, but he'd greet Willie Rae Johnson in Brenda's house wearing nothing but his underwear.

He hung up his cell and looked around the small house at the boxes he had just brought in, and the few items he had unpacked before she called. His eyes landed on his baseball pyramid, something he felt was necessary to have in the living room if the house was truly going to be theirs, and not just hers. He loved that pyramid. He had been collecting signed balls for it since he was a little boy. It made the perfect centerpiece for the coffee table.

Looking at his beloved toy, Fritz felt a wave of fury pass through him. He had been trying so hard, for over a year, to fit in somewhere besides the very periphery of Brenda Leigh Johnson's life. But just when he thought he had finally gotten there and was as central as that pyramid was to the coffee table…he was packed up and sent away. And he had had enough.

His anger propelled him through her house, throwing things in boxes, carrying out the ones he hadn't opened yet out to the U-Haul, sealing up the ones that had been breached.. Fritz wasn't hurrying because Brenda wanted him to. He was rushing because he was so angry he could barely contain himself. Yes, he would definitely be gone when Brenda got home with her mother.

But he wasn't coming back.

His real estate agent hadn't scheduled the open house for his condo until the following weekend, so as soon as the boxes were back on the truck, he'd give her a call and tell her to cancel everything. He would move back into his place, and that would be that-an end to this roller coaster that was life with Brenda.

After an hour, there was only one box left sitting on the coffee table, the one he was working on when Brenda called. It had held the pyramid and a few other things.

He sat down on the couch, his adrenaline dipping, and pulled the box toward him. He removed the newspaper and bubble wrap out to make way for his beloved baseball holder, when he noticed what he was unwrapping when Brenda had called. He pulled it the rest of the way out of its confines and looked at it.

A few months ago, Fritz had taken Brenda to a Dodgers game for the first time. He had bought her a baseball hat for the occasion, and to his surprise, she wore it without complaint. She looked utterly adorable. He asked a stranger to take a picture of them, and Brenda had it enlarged and put in a Dodger's frame as a gift for his birthday. Fritz debated whether or not to put the picture in his office or his condo, but his condo won out. He liked to stare at it on nights where they couldn't be together. Baseball and Brenda: his two greatest loves.

Fritz looked closer at the photo. Brenda was smiling, one of her rare, carefree, million watt smiles that melted his heart. His arm was draped over her shoulder and hers was snaked around his waist, and she was pulling him against her. She looked young in her ponytail and ballcap, her brown eyes wide and laughing, as if murder and human cruelty were foreign to her. The way Brenda's head was turned, and the way his was inclined toward her, made it look like she had reluctantly looked away from Fritz to pose. He studied the picture again and took it all in: the beautiful carefree woman who was hugging a man close to her, whom she didn't want to take her eyes off of…

And then it hit Fritz. She loves me. There was no mistaking it. Brenda loved him. It was in the picture, as clear as day. No wonder this was the one, of all the framed pictures he had, that he chose to keep next to his bed. He let his fingertips trace over her beautiful features, marveling how its true message never spoke itself until today. In the nick of time.

Fritz gingerly put the picture back in bubble wrap and taped up the box. He picked it up and headed toward the door, intent on calling Jerry to see if he could stay on his couch for a few nights once he loaded this last box on the U-Haul. The baseball pyramid caught his eye, and he cursed his own stupidity: he had just sealed up the box it was supposed to go back into.

He stood there for a minute, thinking, and then walked out of the house, locking the door behind him. He had received a message from Brenda today though that picture, a message of love, and he was going to send her one too. His beloved baseball pyramid, left on the coffee table for Brenda and Mrs. Johnson to see, said very clearly, "I won't be forgotten."

"You left that pyramid behind on purpose?" Brenda was incensed.

"You seriously never figured that out? Aren't you supposed to be some kind of great detective or something?" He tried to put his arm around her but she pushed away.

"Fritz, that was mean! That stupid baseball thingie is how my Mama figured out you were livin' with me, for heaven' sake! Why did you do that?"

"I can't believe you are getting mad over something I did years ago. I think your mother would have figured out I was moving in from my mail and the way your closet was organized. Don't blame my baseballs. Besides, the way I see it, I did you a favor."

"What do you mean, you did me a favor? I was horrified when Mama guessed you were movin' in!"

He was getting irritated. "Wasn't it better that she learned about your new living arrangements on that visit rather than both your mom and dad finding out about me at the same time when I accidently answered your dad's phone call a year later?"

She was silent. "Well, yea, Mama did run a lot of interference between me and Daddy over that. But still Fritz, leavin' clues you had moved in to get me in trouble was not nice at all."

"And me moving all my stuff out an hour after I just unloaded it was incredibly generous, and above and beyond what most boyfriends would do," he shot back. "Are we seriously going to fight about this, after we've been happily married for five years? This is something to laugh about, Brenda."

She huffed and threw herself back against the couch, turning her head away from him. I can't believe her. One minute she's contrite about her past behavior, and the next she's having a temper tantrum. She makes my head spin.

A minute later, she turned around and looked at him, her lips twisted in a suppressed smile. "I am mad at you," she said, her tone, to his relief, now teasing.

"Okay," he said, wary of her mood change. "Why?"

"Because," she said, scooting close to him, "that was something I would do, so I have to begrudgingly admire you against my will. Didn't know you had it in you, Fritz."

He scooped her into his lap. "What," he said. "You don't think I have layers?"

---

Fritz looked at his watch as he filled his travel mug with hot coffee. Damn, he was running late for his breakfast meeting. He had hit the snooze button one too many times. Who schedules a meeting at 7:30 in the morning anyway? It was going to be a long day.

He grabbed his suitcase and turned to look at his wife. "Brenda, don't forget…"

"Ooff porf hemaf sachs!" she said through a mouthful of cereal. At Fritz's raised eyebrow, she took a gulp of coffee and swallowed. "Let me try that again. For heaven's sake, Fritz! You've reminded me a dozen times. Do you really think I'd forget we're closin' on our house today? I can hardly wait to move out of here." She looked around the kitchen of her nightmares, and her eyes narrowed.

"I know you won't forget, honey, I'm just reminding you when you need to be there so you can plan your day."

"4:30 sharp at our lawyer's office. It is burned into my brain. I even have transportation figured out, I'm that on top of things. His buildin' is three blocks from mine, so I'm just gonna walk, which will take exactly 16 minutes." She smirked and poured herself a second bowl of Lucky Charms.

How can she eat that surgery crap? he thought. Walking…it's three long blocks. She could drive faster. It was LA, after all. "Honey…"

"Okay, that's it, Fritz." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "You are makin' yourself late for an important meetin' to stand here and nag me about showin' up on time to close on our house because you don't think I'm reliable. You have taken Mother Hennin' to a whole new level."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted. "Hush!" She put one hand on her hip and pointed at the door with the other. "Out, Mister! Go to work! Leave me be!"

Fritz grabbed his briefcase and keys, unable to suppress a smile. He opened the back door and turned to look at her, now standing with both arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him. He couldn't resist.

"You know, you're really beautiful when you're mad." He then shut the door quickly behind him, lest a bowl of cereal come flying across the room.

---

The closing was a blur of papers covered in big, scary numbers with dollar signs in front of them. Fritz signed, then Brenda signed, then Eric Spetman signed… repeated at nauseam. After an hour, it was finally over. Eric handed them the keys, and they wished him well.

"Thanks, dude," he said, looking both relieved and happy. "I sold everything in the house on Craigslist except for the patio furniture, and I'm flying to New York tomorrow with nothing but my suitcases. And Carly's engagement ring. So thank you, thank you for buying my house." He reached out and pumped Fritz's hand enthusiastically, and in a move that clearly startled her, reached out and gave Brenda a hug.

"Good luck," Fritz said sincerely. "I'm sure your girlfriend will say yes." He put his arm around Brenda. "Nothing's better than being married to the right woman."

Eric gave him a thumbs up and they went their separate ways.

Standing in front of the lawyer's office, Fritz stopped to appreciate the beauty of the early evening, as a slight breeze cut through the August heat. Suddenly Brenda stood on her toes, put both of her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. Brenda was never one for PDA, so he was pleasantly surprised. He was happy, he was relieved, and he felt triumphant: he got his girl a house. He was getting her away from the place that held so many bad memories. Fritz pulled back and looked at her lovely face, which was shining.

"You happy?" he asked.

"Thrilled. I just wish we didn't have to wait until Monday to move." Brenda stuck her lower lip out a bit.

"Brenda, I told you why we had to wait. I have guys coming to do the floors tomorrow, which will take two days. Then the house needs to air out a couple of days before we move in, because the fumes from the stain can be toxic to Joel."

"Oh that's right, I'm awful for forgettin' that. I'm just eager to get the move over with. And movin' on a Monday, well, that's so awkward."

He kissed her nose. "You don't need to worry about a thing. I'm taking Monday off of work, so you will leave the duplex for work in the morning, and come home to a house in the evening. The movers are coming early so hopefully I'll at least have the bed set up and a dish or two unpacked before you get home."

"Ugh, that kitchen! Those orange and green teapots, yuk!"

"As soon as we get the rest of the house painted and the bathrooms redone, we can see how much the kitchen will cost. I just don't want to do everything at once. Not so much because of money, but because of the chaos factor. Let's get settled in, take a breather, and then rip out the most vital part of the house, okay?"

Brenda pulled out of his arms and took his hand. "I'm fine with minimizin' chaos. And don't look so surprised. It's a new me, remember? But right now, I think we should go out and celebrate, don't you think?"

"I absolutely agree."

"Great!" Brenda said, "I have a place in mind for cocktails, and another one for dinner."

"You have given this a great deal of thought, I can tell."

"Damn straight. I've been dreamin' of the day we buy a house for quite awhile now. And there's no better way to celebrate than with Merlot and chocolate."

Fritz made a mental note that another recipient of chocolate was going to be Sharon Raydor, who found their new house in the first place.

He took her hand and pulled her toward his car parked on the street. "Merlot and chocolate it is," he said. "Anything for you."

---

Brenda was delightfully tipsy when they left the Thai restaurant. Besides her usual wine, she ordered a Mai Thai with dinner, and added to the Appletini she had at the bar before they ate, she was feeling no pain.

"Whoopsy!" she said, stumbling into Fritz as they walked out to the valet.. He caught her by the arm and held it.

"Too much drinking for you, young lady," he said, in a mock stern voice.

"You aren't upset at me, Fritzy? I had a little more than normal, but I'm not drunk. I'm just really—happy." She squeezed his arm.

Fritz noticed the young valet checking Brenda out and frowned at him, which sent him scurrying for their car. "No worries, we're celebrating tonight."

"Yup," she said. "We have a house! After all these years, we finally have a house!"

He wanted to remind her that when they lived at the bungalow he thought of that house as "theirs" though only her name was on the deed, but he let it slide. "Long time coming, honey, long time coming."

Fritz helped her into the passenger's side and made sure she was belted before he drove off. Before long he felt her warm little hand on his thigh.

You know, that's distracting."

She didn't remove her hand; instead, she leaned as close to him as her seatbelt would allow. "Hey Fritzy," she whispered.

"Hey what, Brenda?" He could feel her hot breath on the side of his neck.

"You know what we haven't done in a long time?" She giggled the cute way she did, her hand over her mouth.

"Hmmmm?" He thought he knew where this was headed, and he liked it.

She pushed up from her seat so she could lean closer to him. "Fooled around in the car," she said in a stage whisper. Oh yes.

"It has been awhile," he replied, trying to play it cool. "Why do you mention it?"

"I mention it, my sexy husband, because I can't think of a better way to thank you for all your hard work in pickin' this house out for us than indulgin' in your favorite fetish."

It was a fetish. Truth be told, it probably started from all the times he had sex in cars back in high school, where he became an expert at removing clothing in small spaces. As he got older, fooling around in a car brought him back to those times of being young and daring. Luckily, Brenda was always happy to oblige his fantasy.

"I really like…oooh Brenda!" Her hand was on the move again, and he jumped. Fritz reached down and pulled it off his thigh. "Brenda, not when I'm driving, you know that. I can't risk another moving violation on my record." He was a little pissed. She knew better to distract him like that when he was behind the wheel.

"Sorry," she said, subdued. "I'm just a little hot and bothered and got carried away." Hot and bothered? Okay, not pissed off any more.

"You are, huh? And I haven't even touched you. I'd love to pull off the road and find out just how hot you are."

"You'll be impressed. Very." Shoot. Concentrate, you're driving.

"I know a good place five minutes from here," he said. "While I'm driving there, why don't you tell me how you got to be in your, er, current condition?"

"Oh but Fritz, I'll distract you while you're driving," she said, trying to sound innocent.

Don't be coy. "You can talk, just not touch. You know the rules. So tell me, Brenda, what's gotten you turned on?"

"Well," she said slowly, "so many things. I'm real happy about the house. I just had great food and some very strong drinks.. And I'm with the most handsome man in LA, and that's a really good start."

"A good start?"

"Yea, because I'm looking at you, and you are so damn gorgeous, and we get in the car and I think there's no way I can wait until we get home to make love to you, you're too delicious. And then I start thinkin' all kinds of naughty things…"

"What things?" he interrupted, his pulse picking up.

"Oh, you know…" She slowly twisted a long blonde strand around her finger, as if she were considering the question deeply. "The things you do to me that turn me to mush. Those kinds of things."

"Whoa," was all Fritz could think to say. He knew exactly what type of things she was talking about.

"And I was thinkin' about car sex, about how much it gets you goin', so I thought it was the perfect endin' to the evening."

He pulled off the highway. "I couldn't agree with you more." He drove down several streets off the exit and came to a construction area where several new houses were half-built. It was pitch dark.

"How do you know about this place, Fritz?" Brenda asked.

The gods have smiled upon me, he thought. "Kevin from work is buying one of these houses. I was out with him one day in this area, and he drove me here to take a look." He pulled over near a temporary builder's shed and shut off the car. He undid his seatbelt, pulled off his blazer and his tie and tossed both in the back seat. "Now get over here, woman," he growled.

Fritz reclined the seat and slid it back as far as it could go. He put his hands on Brenda's waist to guide her as she climbed over the console. Once on his lap, she grabbed onto his shoulders for support and straddled his thighs. Brenda had also taken off her blazer and wore a thin sleeveless white blouse. She smelled like pineapple and coconut.

"Why hello there," he said, and he pulled her closer. He could feel her heat through their clothes. Brenda pulled herself tightly against him and giggled.

"I think I just found out how turned on you are."

"This is what you do to me, baby." Her lips came down on his, mouth open, and he returned her fiery kiss, sighing into her mouth. I have a house, I have Brenda, and I'm getting car sex. What a day, he thought hazily. As their tongues tasted each other, one hand slipped between them to unbutton her blouse, and the other slid up her thigh.

She licked his neck and gently nipped it while removing his shirt halfway and lightly scraping his sculptured chest with her nails. "God I love you," he grunted.

"Feeling is very mutual." She scooted back and reached down between them and started to unbuckle his belt. From that moment on it was a blur of heat and touch and Brenda surrounding him, just like it was every time they made love, but with the dash of excitement he loved so much when they got to play like this. Why did the illicit always add a little spice to sex?

"Comfy?" he panted. The steering wheel in her back couldn't be fun.

."I couldn't feel better than this," she said huskily. You were born to make love to me, Fritz."

"My sweet Brenda," he mumbled, "I want to kiss you everywhere-"

BAM BAM BAM! Three loud bangs came from the driver's side of the car. Brenda startled so badly she hit the steering wheel and the tooted the horn. Their connection was immediately lost, all passion gone, because Fritz knew what made that sound, and he guessed Brenda did too..

It had to be an LAPD standard-issue Mag light.

"Police!" a man yelled, confirming his suspicions.

"Holy shit!" Brenda hissed, yanking down her blouse and crawling over the console to the passenger's seat. Fritz reached out to steady her, afraid she'd knock off the parking break. With Brenda out of his lap, Fritz fumbled to get his zipper up. He didn't even attempt to fasten his belt.

Three more loud knocks. "I said, police. Now roll down your window!"

I can't believe this. Fritz lowered the window as instructed and was instantly blinded by a flashlight shining in his eyes. Amateur, he thought with distain. Or serial killer pretending he's a cop. But when the guy moved the beam to Brenda's face, he could see his uniform and badge. He was the real deal. If given the choice, Fritz would have gone with the serial killer.

"License and registration," the cop growled. Fritz tapped Brenda on the arm and pointed to the glove compartment. With shaky hands, she got out his registration and give it to him. Fritz pulled out his driver's license and gave both to the cop.

"I want your ID too, ma'am," he said, but Brenda didn't move. He knew what she was thinking: this would be the cop gossip of the year. Former Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson caught having sex in a car… no one would care if it was with her husband. It sounded trashy, and she still had plenty of enemies at the LAPD who would delight in sullying her reputation, as such gossip would have a very short trip to travel to the DA's office.

"I said, give me your ID, lady, or I'm gonna drag you outta the car and handcuff you." Fritz could tell Brenda had just crossed over from humiliated to angry. She had spent the past dozen years of her life bossing asshole cops like this guy around. He could tell it was killing her to just sit there and take it. Reluctantly she found what she needed in the cavernous black purse and handed it to Fritz who gave it to the officer..

The cop looked at their driver's licenses. "You two a little long in the tooth to be screwing in a car, aren't you?" the cop sneered. "Let's see, yup, just as I thought, different last names and—" he flashed the light at both Brenda and Fritz again—" wearing wedding rings. You both stepping out on your spouse, huh? Classy."

Fritz's face was bright red. He wanted to correct the man, but had the feeling that silence was the best way to go.

He heard footsteps outside. "Jenkins, what are you yelling about? You got a problem?"

"No, but they do. Trespassing on private property, and just like we thought, messing around, but they're not teenagers, they're middle aged! Cheating on their husband and wife, nice people we got here."

The woman sighed. "This isn't the Bible Belt, Jenkins. We don't pass moral judgment on people. Let me see." Silence for a beat. "Okay, Ms. John—" She stopped, her voice rising in surprise at the end. Crap, she knows Brenda.

The female officer continued. "Jenkins, I just heard dispatch come in through with a call. Can you go check the radio? I'll handle this."

"I didn't hear a thing," the other cop argued, sounding angry.

"I don't give a crap what you did or didn't hear. I'm your superior officer, and I'm telling you to go to the cruiser and check out the radio and let me handle this. Now!"

Fritz heard the male cop stalk away, and was sure he heard the word "bitch" amidst his mumbling.

The female officer bent down and put her arms on the open window, tilting her flashlight at an angle so no one was blinded, and looked over at Brenda. "Chief Johnson? That you?"

Brenda, who had been trying to hide her face behind her hair, turned to look at the other woman. "Detective Mendoza?" she said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Mickie laughed. "Chief, I should be asking you what you're doing here. But I guess that's pretty obvious." She eyed Fritz's half open shirt and unbelted pants and winked. "Hey, way to spice up your marriage! I saw the windows fogged up and I thought it was a couple of kids going at it. But two people your age, that's actually pretty hot."

Who is this woman? Fritz thought.

As if on cue, Mickie reached her hand through the door and offered it to Fritz. "I'm Detective Mickie Mendoza, Mr. Howard. I've been lucky enough to have worked with your wife a few times over the years. You're the FBI liaison, right? I heard you and the Chief here were hitched. I'll tell ya, you are married to a wonderful lady." Fritz took her pro-offered hand and shook it, wondering if things could get any stranger. Please let us go, he begged silently.

"Mickie, why are you in uniform? Aren't you with SIS anymore?" Brenda asked, her cheeks pink. Fritz glared at her. It wasn't the time for reunions.

"Taylor," Mickie shrugged, as if that one word explained everything. "He thinks SIS sits around too much, so we get farmed out to Central whenever things get slow, the hell with rank. " She jerked her thumb out behind her. "Tonight I got stuck with this idiot. He just moved her from Tennessee and doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Keeps hitting on me even though I told him I was a lesbian. Maybe they don't have those in the South."

"I can assure you they do," Brenda said. " Mickie, if people find out about this, rumors are gonna fly, and I'm although I'm not at the LAPD anymore, my work still overlaps, and like you said, Fritz is the liaison—"

"Relax, Chief," Mickie said, smiling, as she handed Fritz his license and registration back. She walked around the car to the passenger's side and had Brenda roll down her window to give her ID back, leaning into the window as she did so. Is this woman coming on to my wife?

"There's no way I'm gonna say a word to anyone, I swear," she said. "I know how crappy it is to be a woman on the force. Even though you aren't on the job anymore, you'll still be around, and you don't need that crap." She looked over at Fritz. "Although all the guys who have the hots for your wife would be high-fiving you in the hallway!"

Fritz had absolutely no idea what to say to that.

"Nothing got called in, there's not gonna be a report or citation, and Jenkins has only been on the job here for two weeks and doesn't recognize your names. So no harm, no foul." She looked over her shoulder to where Fritz assumed the cruiser was parked. "I gotta go, he isn't gonna be distracted forever."

"Mickie, thank you so much." Brenda patted the other woman's hand. "I owe you one."

Mickie looked like she had just been touched by a rock star. "Oh, uh, no problem, Chief. So sorry you aren't running Major Crimes any more, but I wish you luck at the DA's office. And you two—" she looked at Fritz—"keep things hot and heavy, you hear?" She winked and was gone.

Fritz wasted no time starting up the car and pulling out. He looked in his rear-view mirror and saw Jenkins pointing toward him and gesticulating wildly to Mickie, who adapted the same pose Brenda had that morning: hands on her hips and a "don't mess with me" expression. That must be LAPD standard issue, too.

---

Brenda didn't say a word on the drive home. He didn't know if it was embarrassment or anger that kept her silent, but he knew when she got in a quiet mood, it was best to let her simmer for awhile before approaching her.

On his part, he couldn't remember the last time he had been so embarrassed. He was also profoundly grateful to Mickie Whatever-her-last-name-was for stepping in and sparing them, but after her casual teasing about Brenda and his sex life, he was going to run and hide if he saw her at the LAPD. And—was she flirting with Brenda? Not that he cared, it was actually kind of sexy, but…what a strange night.

As he drove, he was mildly annoyed at his own libido The cops could have arrested them for "Engaging in Lewd Conduct in Public," a misdemeanor, but it would still cause a great deal of problems for him at work if the judge didn't dismiss the charges. He and Brenda had barely missed a world full of professional and personal headaches, thanks to Mickie. But he couldn't help thinking… will this mean Brenda will never have sex with me in a car again? He shook his head. I'm almost 50 and I think like a teenager sometimes.

Brenda dashed out of the car without a word as soon as they pulled up in front of the duplex. He found her a few minutes later, standing in the middle of the bedroom, staring at a stack of boxes.

"Brenda, you okay?" he said softly.

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure what I feel." She turned around. "We could have gotten in a heap of trouble, Fritz, if Mickie wasn't there."

"I know. My office doesn't take too well to agents having criminal records. But most likely, Brenda, a judge would dismiss any charges against us. We were nowhere near where anyone could see us."

"You don't know that," she snapped. "Judges have bad days and like to make examples out of people. You can't ever count on a judge to be reasonable." She turned her back to him again.

He walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. "But we don't need to worry about judges," he said softly. "We got lucky and nothing happened tonight, thanks to your friend."

She was still for a moment, then tensed up and began to shake. His stomach flopped.

"Hey, Brenda, don't cry," he said, pulling her tighter. "It's okay. I know it's been a stressful week, but hey, we got our house today! Don't let tonight ruin a great day, okay?" Her shoulders still shook.

Brenda pulled away from Fritz and turned around to look at him. He dreaded seeing her in tears once again, and was shocked to see—she was laughing.

"Oh Fritz, crying…over…this…no!" She could barely get the words out. She wiped her eyes and put a hand on her belly. "It's just so funny…we're havin' sex half naked…really goin' at it…next thing…I'm flyin' over the console…boobs hangin' out…" Brenda walked over to the bed and collapsed on it.

She's completely lost her mind.

"I didn't think—oh lord I can't stop laughin'-I didn't think you could get your pants zipped fast enough…" Several second passed by while she tried to calm down enough to breathe, face red with exertion. By this time Fritz had started to see the absurdity in it all.

"And saved by Mickie…she has a crush on me you know…should have left my top open as a thank you…" at this Fritz crumbled and joined her in bed, the two of them laughing like lunatics. One of them would finally stop and then look at the other, and a fresh round of guffaws would start. He had never laughed this hard with Brenda before, and it felt wonderful.

By the time they calmed down, his sides ached. "Oh, I needed that," Brenda gasped. "Can't remember the last time I had a good belly laugh like that."

Fritz pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at her. "I'm so glad you could see the humor of the situation, honey. I thought I was going to die from mortification."

She rolled on her side to face him. "I gotta have perspective. After the year I've had, with all the terrible crap I've gone through, a near arrest for screwin' my husband's brains out in the car just doesn't seem to be that big of a deal."

That started a new simultaneous round of the giggles, and when they both calmed down again, their cheeks were wet. "Ohh, stop it Brenda, I seriously think I pulled something in my side."

"Speaking of your body," her voice grew deep and serious, "we have some unfinished business to take care of. And you know how much I hate loose ends." She pushed him on his back and crawled on top of him.

"That you do, that you do," Fritz said, burying his hands in her hair.

"I say we celebrate in style," she said, kissing down his jaw to the delicate flesh of his neck. "And toast the new house."

"To the new house," he breathed, and then started his own assault on her neck. "And to us. Always to us."

END CHAPTER 5

My plea is thus: a chapter like this takes weeks to write, edit, have someone else edit, re-edit, make two separate versions of (T and M), and post 3 different places. I get paid for this in the wages of reviews. Please donate to the cause. Thanks!

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