Los Angeles, June 2005

Sharon

Sharon stretched languidly, naked against the softness of her sheets. She rarely allowed herself the pleasure of sleeping naked; with three children in the house it always seemed like playing Russian roulette with a loaded gun, and Sharon didn't like to take the risk. Tonight, however, all three of the kids were gone; Garrett was out with friends, and Ethan and Lily were both away at sleepovers. She hadn't planned on seeing Andy tonight, and the call he'd made earlier in the evening to tell her that he'd caught a case had only confirmed that she would be spending the night alone. That thought had made her almost deliriously happy. She'd taken a long bath and settled on the couch with a glass of wine and a good book, but she found that the wine only made her tired, and the book only made her sad. She put them both aside and slid into bed, hoping that sleep would claim her quickly and that she wouldn't wake again until the morning when she actually had something to do. Sharon found that after eighteen years of motherhood she wasn't very good at doing nothing.

She had very nearly fallen asleep when the sound of the lock turning on the front door broke through the silence. The clock on her bedside cheerily proclaimed the time to be just after 11, too early for Garrett- who was 18 and whose curfew was set for 1 am- to be coming home. Only one person outside the family had a key to her home, and she found herself grateful for the change of plans. A night alone had turned out to be less exciting than she imagined it would be, and the thought of sharing her bed with Andy was more welcome than it had been several hours before. She did not rise, opting instead to wait for him to come to her. She smiled when she thought about how he might react to finding her naked in her bed, waiting for him.

The bedroom door opened and there he was, his suit slightly wrinkled and his face set in the kind of expression that let her know he was pissed off about something. Whatever it was, she hoped he'd get over it quickly. Sharon had no interest in spending this night dealing with any more shit from the cops at Parker Center. She had long since grown used to the distrust from her fellow officers, but she remained grateful for Andy's friendship. Even on the days when she was convinced everyone in the world hated her guts, Andy Flynn was there with a kind word and a shoulder to lean on.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting up and not bothering to draw the blanket over her nakedness. Let him look; he might forget whatever had pissed him off.

"Hey," he answered her, shucking off his suit jacket and tugging his tie over his head.

"Didn't think I was going to see you tonight," she said, running her fingers through her thick hair. She'd let it grow out in the years she'd been here in LA, and she knew Andy loved it like this, long and loose and just a touch messy.

"Neither did I," he told her, and though his tone indicated that he was still upset, his face had softened at the sight of her. He stumbled slightly as he tried to remove his pants and shoes at the same time, and they laughed together. Once he was down to just his boxers he slid into bed beside her and she went to him immediately, draping her body over his and resting her head on his chest so she could hear the comforting thrum of his heartbeat.

"What happened?" she asked, and she felt his muscles tense reflexively around her.

"What else?" he answered in a tone dripping with disdain. "Miss Atlanta."

Sharon sighed and turned her head slightly, dropping a kiss on his chest. She had heard nothing but complaints about the new Deputy Chief for the last two weeks. She was an outsider, she was rude, she didn't know the first damn thing about running a department. Sharon had not yet had the pleasure of meeting the woman, and she was glad of that fact, though she imagined that it was only a matter of time.

"What did she do this time?" Sharon asked, trying to disguise her yawn. She was mildly curious, and she had the feeling that if she didn't ask, Andy would simply fume over it for the rest of the night, and that man thought louder than anyone else she had ever met.

"She sent me away," he said bitterly. "Busted into the middle of my investigation with her holier-than-thou bullshit, stopped a perfectly valid search and sent me home like a god damn child."

Sharon sighed and tilted her chin up so she could see his face. "Don't worry about it, baby," she said. "This woman may be teacher's pet for now, but Pope's not an idiot. He'll see that an outsider can't just walk in here like she owns the place. Once all the noise over the evidence tampering dies down, he'll put Taylor back in charge."

"Maybe," Andy said, "But in the mean time I'm stuck with Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh."

Sharon's whole body went tense, strung taut as a bow, her heart beating so fast she felt as though it might burst out of her chest. Brenda Leigh… what were the chances? She forced herself to relax, hoping Andy hadn't sensed the fear that washed over her now.

"What was her name?" she asked, shocked by how even her voice sounded.

"Brenda Leigh Johnson," Andy said, mocking the familiar southern drawl that Sharon remembered so well from all those years before.

Sharon knew she was shaking now, and she only hoped she could blame it on being cold. Brenda Leigh… all Sharon could see was long blonde hair and slender hands and big dark eyes watching her sadly, all she could think about was the sound of Brenda's voice calling out her name the night she left. Brenda Leigh… it must have been Pope's doing. Old friends from the agency had gossiped to Sharon about Brenda's disastrous affair with the man back in D.C. Sharon had not met Pope then and had not taken the time to tell him that she knew of him from before. That they shared the unique bond of having fucked the same woman. Sharon had no doubt that Brenda Leigh had fallen into Will Pope's bed immediately after Sharon's abrupt departure from the agency; in true Brenda style she had rushed right into the arms of another married lover. And now she had followed him here. Those same friends had told Sharon of Brenda's marriage, and she couldn't help but wonder if the mysterious husband was here as well. Having Brenda in the city would be intolerable enough, having her in the same department would be torture. Seeing her every day, happy, with a gold band on her hand where Sharon's own was bare would be more than she could bear. LA had become Sharon's safe haven, an escape from her old life, a place where no one knew who she'd been or what she'd done. And now? Now Brenda was here, and the life Sharon had carefully constructed for herself was about to come crumbling down.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, and she shrugged, offering her face up for a kiss.

"Just thinking about you. You should be Deputy Chief," she lied and he laughed as he leaned down to capture her lips in a slow, familiar kiss.

"No, thank you," he said, his hand drifting down the slope of Sharon's back, coming to rest on the swell of her ass, squeezing gently. "I'm happy here," he added, and she knew he meant more than just Robbery Homicide. He was happy here with her, and Brenda Leigh could go to hell because Sharon was happy here with him, too. She kissed him harder, hooking a leg over his hip and losing herself in the warmth of his touch.

Yes, she decided, Brenda Leigh could go to hell.

Brenda

She flopped on the bed in her hotel room, ding-dong in hand and a smile on her face. She'd closed her first case, and the rest of them could all go to hell, because she'd done it. Brenda had proven to them that she could do this job, and she had proven to herself that she deserved to be here. She tried to lose herself in the chocolate, but found that she couldn't stop replaying the events of the last few days in her mind.

Brenda was trying to like this city, she really was. She hated having to rely on Gabriel to drive her around, she hated living in a hotel, she hated having to constantly remind everyone that she went first, she hated having to rely on Pope to uphold her authority, and she really, really hated how out of place she felt here. She would try to make the best of it, however; she'd gotten divorced and sold her house and moved to the other side of the country, and it was far too late to go back. She'd made her choice, and now she'd have to live with it.

This investigation had proven to her that she was going to be all right, but it had also turned out to be more than she was expecting to deal with on her first case in LA. Discovering Ellen's secret had brought up some unsettling memories, of her time spent with Sharon and all the questions that had filled her when she found herself attracted to a woman. She could still hear Provenza's voice in her head; are you saying she's a murderer and a lesbo? She'd found herself filled with a kind of righteous anger in that moment, but had tried to hold it back, threatening him with sensitivity training but trying not to let her own feelings show. She shook her head in hopes of stopping this train of thought. Sharon had been gone for almost eight years, and there was no need to focus on her now. Even if there were still some nights when Brenda missed the warmth of Sharon beside her, missed the softness of her hands and the tenderness of her voice. Missed the way she felt when she had someone who understood her, truly, every part of her. No one had taken hold of her the way Sharon had, no one had made a mark on her soul like the one that Sharon's love had left.

And she had no idea where Sharon had gone. Of course, she hadn't tried particularly hard to find her; Brenda had come into work the day after Sharon left only to hear that the woman had quit, and by the time Brenda had worked up the nerve (or perhaps had simply become desperate enough) to drive by Sharon's home, she found it empty, cars gone from the drive, toys gone from the front yard, windows black and cold. The pain of losing Sharon this way had almost been more than Brenda could stand; the thought that Sharon cared so little for her that she had come to Brenda for one last fuck before disappearing forever had left the little blonde reeling. She had come to hate Sharon in a way after that, and thoughts of tracking her down lost out against that hatred. Why should she try to find the woman who had used her and thrown her away? Why waste her time on someone who clearly didn't care enough to even say good-bye?

Even if Sharon haunted her still. It was Sharon, more than anything else, that ruined Brenda's marriage, almost before it had even begun. It was losing Sharon that had thrown Brenda into Will Pope's arms. She had been so lost, so in need of someone to tell her that she deserved better, and Will Pope had filled that role admirably. And then of course it had been realizing that she had no future with Pope that had sent her bouncing on to Daniel.

God, what a mistake that had been.

She had been foolish enough to trust him, to think that they could stay together. And in the first year of their marriage when she felt safe and thought that maybe, just maybe, he actually loved her, she had told him about Sharon. That had been the wrong move; he'd never looked at her the same way after that, and he never, ever, let her forget what she'd told him. He watched her interactions with every single female member of her squad as though he feared that she was fucking them all in her office during business hours. He complained bitterly, constantly, about the hours she had to work, and in the end, he had grown to hate her in a way. The shouting wasn't the worst part; the worst part was the quiet insults, the knowledge that even in peaceful moments when they had nothing to disagree about he was still cruel to her. She had tried, really tried, to keep it together, not because she wanted to stay with him but because she wanted to stay married. She wanted it for her parents' sake. She wanted it for her own sake, wanted the knowledge that she was not unlovable, but in the end, she had been unable to stand it. The ethics inquiry had been too much; all brought on by Daniel, making wild accusations. The fact that he had done that, jeopardized her career and her reputation on nothing but a petty whim, had not surprised her. What had surprised her was that he had chosen a male officer in her squad, and not one of the women. She thought he would have taken extra pleasure in that, in outing her.

He hadn't, though.

So she divorced him and accepted Will's offer to move out here. The job she'd been offered at Homeland Security might have been more her speed, but she was tired of the East Coast, she was tired of terrorists, and she was ready for a change. Perhaps it was naïve, to think that moving across the country would solve all her problems, but she had done it, and that was that.

And damn Sharon Raydor, because in the end this all traced back to her. If Sharon had never left, if Brenda had never had an affair with Pope, if Brenda had never married Daniel… the ifs swirled around her mind, killing the euphoria that chocolate usually gave her and leaving her feeling bitter and drained. Damn Sharon Raydor.

Stop it, she chided herself, rolling over on the bed as though Sharon were actually there, as though she could turn her back on the auburn haired woman. Her mind traveled back to Provenza, and to the rest of her squad. For the most part they seemed to be on her side, though she worried about Andy Flynn. He might have offered some grudging respect after her success in this case, but he was dangerous. He was too well-connected, too smart, and too distrusting of her to be discounted as a threat. Flynn wanted her gone, that much was certain. He was loyal to Taylor, and Taylor viewed Brenda's very presence in the department as a personal affront.

These men! It was always men in these places, always puffed up assholes in cheap suits telling her what to do, expecting her to be submissive and quiet and responding vindictively when they found her otherwise. Flynn rubbed her the wrong way, but evidently the feeling was mutual. Brenda wondered how far he might go; he wasn't a member of her department, but Robbery Homicide and the Priority Murder Squad would almost certainly be crossing paths again, and she knew she couldn't count on his cooperation.

Andy Flynn. What a horrible man.