Brenda went home that night, and sat across from a distracted Fritz, trying to make sense of the days events. She knew what had happened in the car. That overwhelming spark of desire had driven her hands over the Captain's leg. She wasn't used to the sensation of this lust yet, but at least it made sense, on some level. Physically, some people were more compatible, and sometimes chemistry just blossomed without any help, and sometimes, in spite of constant antagonism. But those moments against the railing? Brenda had no name for that. In all her years of Police work, discovering a deceased victim never got any easier. Brenda always felt the loss personally. She like to think that was what made her so good at her job. People fed her platitudes, and suggested that she should thicken her skin, and toughen up before the job ate her alive, but Brenda always needed that few minutes after a discovery, to get her mind right. Nobody had ever, ever understood that. Certainly, nobody had been able to offer such wordless support. Brenda rubbed her hand along her arm, tracing the lingering outline of the Captain's warmth. It still felt warm, even hours later. It seemed to glow beneath her sleeve. Not Will. Not Fritz. Sharon. Brenda couldn't think anymore. Climbing the stairs to her bed, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, her hand still on her arm.
Sharon sat alone at her table. She'd been scheduled to go out with a friend, a woman who made it clear that she felt more than a platonic affection for her, but she'd canceled on the way home from the office. She couldn't stop thinking about the Chief. She tried to focus on the carnal aspects of the day, the burning gaze, those scorching hands touching her in ways she hadn't been touched in far too long. But she kept coming back to the hunched figure of the blond woman, leaning against the railing after they found the nanny. Brenda had seemed broken, then, as though she'd known the victim. Of course Sharon knew that wasn't the case, but seeing the Chief with such raw grief on her face had changed the Captain's approach. For the rest of the day, she kept it strictly professional, trying to be as helpful as she could. She still felt Brenda's eyes on her, still felt the air change when the Chief entered a room. But she wanted to leave her with the memory of the railing. She wanted to be left with the memory of the railing. Somehow, it seemed more real than any of their privately stolen moments. Sharon was only sure of one thing. Her tenuous balance on the knife's edge was seriously compromised. She stood, and put her wine glass into the sink, padding up the stairs to her bed. She too, fell into a deep sleep, but her dreams were filled with the Chief, beautiful and haunted.
The following day, Brenda hurried into the Division, running slightly behind. She pulled up short when she saw the Captain sitting in the same chair as the day before. Regaining her composure, she nodded, tossed her trench coat on the table, and asked Sgt. Gabriel for an update.
"I ran her, Chief, and she's clear. No collars, no records, not even a ticket." Sgt. Gabriel replied, spinning his chair to face her.
"Okay. Detective Sanchez, what's the gang activity like in the area?" Brenda faced the detective, but took in the Captain's elegant pantsuit,from the corner of her eye.
"None, boss. Hardworking women. This isn't gangland chief." Detective Sanchez looked as rough around the edges as Brenda felt. She knew he was taking the case hard.
"Plus, this wasn't a home invasion, or robbery. Or if it was, Adrianna must've let her attacker in, because there's no sign of forced entry." Gabriel piped up.
"Okay. You guys see what you can find out about her personal life. I'm going to go see what Adrianna has to tell me." Brenda turned to head for the morgue. She heard the unmistakable clack of heels following her. She slowed her pace, allowing Sharon to catch up. They walked to the bank of elevators in silence, Brenda pressing the button to call the lift. As the doors slid open, Sharon stepped aside, gesturing Brenda in, smiling a bit.
"I believe it's your turn to go first, Chief." She said, chuckling at the blush that flooded Brenda's face.
Brenda stepped into the elevator, holding the door so the Captain could follow. She waited until she saw the Sharon reach for the button, and press it, and then she raised her own hand, catching the dark haired woman's fingers in hers. Sharon's eyes widened a bit, and her breath caught. She didn't pull away, however.
"Listen. Cap'n. I just wanted to say that, yesterday, you gave me something nobody has ever given me before. And I don't know what else we're doing, or where this is going, or what's going to happen, and to be honest, I'm not sure I want to know. But your support after we found Adrianna, that meant the world to me, and I'd be remiss if I didn't express my gratitude. So thank you." Brenda finished breathlessly, squeezing the Captain's hand, before releasing it.
Sharon turned, then, and saw the Chief staring down at the carpet. Suddenly, she needed to see her eyes.
"Chief. Look at me?" She requested, slipping her hand back into Brenda's.
Brenda didn't respond, but shifted her gaze to their now joined hands.
"Chief. Give me your eyes. Please?" Sharon waited a beat, before bringing her other hand up to catch the blond woman's chin, tipping her face to meet her gaze. "You're welcome. It was my pleasure." She stared into Brenda's eyes, emphasizing her words with her flashing green stare.
Brenda was mesmerized by those eyes. So green. So open. There were no secrets in that gaze. No pretense. Just Sharon Raydor, staring back at her. Brenda was tempted to step forward, and brush her lips against the Captain's, just once. Nothing urgent, just a soft, sweet gesture of thanks. It felt at once terrible and intimate, to want that. Brenda knew she was coming up to a line. That maybe she'd crossed the line, and was on her way to a precipice. She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving Sharon's. The Captain's breath hitched, and she stepped forward, lowering her head. She aimed slightly to the right, and let her lips come to rest at the corner of the Chief's mouth. She lingered there for a moment, inhaling the sweet magnolia scent of the blond woman, before whispering in to her ear.
"Not yet, Chief. You're still hurting." Sharon stepped back, rubbing the pad of her thumb across the back of Brenda's hand. A testament. A promise. The elevator doors opened.