Brenda walked into the house, and gently laid her purse on the table, stepping out of her heels. She saw Fritz, asleep sitting up on the couch, his face relaxed as he dozed. She looked at him, wondering how it had come to this. She crept past him, and quietly went upstairs, climbing into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the lingering scent of citrus, wanting to be able to talk to Fritz with a clear head. Stepping out of the shower, she dried her body, and then wrapped her long blond hair in the towel, twisting it up turban style, before slipping on a pair of old sweatpants, and an LAPD ACADEMY tee shirt. She went back downstairs, and found Fritz awake.
"Brenda." His voice was rough with sleep, and he stood, moving to her and wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him back, tightly, knowing she was going to break his heart, and hoping to hold him together.
"Fritzi. We need to talk." Her voice sounded muffled, as she spoke against his chest. She closed her eyes, hoping he'd understand.
He moved his hands to the tops of her arms, and held her back, looking intently at her face.
"Brenda Leigh. I almost lost you tonight. I don't think we need to talk anymore." He folded her against him again, tucking her head beneath his chin.
"Yes, we do Fritz. Or at least, I need to talk." She pressed the flat of her palms against his chest, creating a little space between them.
"Okay. Let's do it over dinner, then. How bout that little Italian place?" He suggested, smiling.
"No. We have leftovers, let's eat here. I'd rather not go out." Brenda frowned, hoping he wouldn't push the issue.
"Of course. Of course. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, Bren, I'm sorry." Fritz started walking towards the kitchen, and Brenda followed close behind.
They moved awkwardly around one another, their movements never quite syncing up, and eventually, Brenda just sat down and let Fritz to the prep work, afraid of creating a hostile atmosphere before she'd said the difficult things she needed to say. She watched him, his movements all tight efficiency. He wasted no energy as he gathered the plates and cups, the silverware and napkins. He portioned out food, his keen sniper's eye apparently lent itself well to equitable distribution, and as he laid the table out, she wondered how she'd never noticed this before.
They ate quietly for a while, Brenda mostly moved the food around her plate, not really having the appetite she should have, after the day she'd had, and the evening she had yet to begin. Finally, she decided it was best to get it over with sooner, rather than later, because she still had work in the morning.
"Fritz. About your promotion," she began, pushing her plate away."I think you should take it."
His eyes widened, as he stared at her.
"You think I should take the promotion?" He repeated, incredulously.
"Yes. I think it's a great move for you, and you deserve it. You're a brilliant agent, the FBI knows that, and it's high time they put your brilliance to a better use than being my nanny at the LAPD, right? So yes. I think you should take it." She replied, nodding. Then she looked down, adding, "But I won't be coming with you."
"What?" He cried, his hands falling to his lap with a soft thump. "You can't be serious? I saw my life tonight, I saw the idea of it without you, and it almost killed me, Brenda Leigh. Seeing you, in front of that lunatic? It set my priorities. And you want me to just, what, ignore that? Put my career ahead of you, and we'll have a long distance relationship? See each other every few months? That's insanity, Brenda, and you know it!" His voice was thick with anger.
"No, Fritz. I don't want you to put your career ahead of me. Look, I had a chance to realize my priorities as well. And when you shot that man, I know you saved me. By all rights, I owe you my life, but Fritz, I can't give you my life. I won't. I also won't hold you back from yours. I won't ask you to give your life to me, so that I can stay here and live my dreams, while you ignore yours. I love you, Fritz, I do. But tonight...you said to me, that I could never do that again. I assume you meant put myself in danger, put myself in a situation where I might get myself killed. But I'm a police officer, and that's my job. I can't make that promise. I put myself in danger every day, but it just so happened that tonight, you were there, because I needed your FBI credentials. That wasn't fair to you. I know how...protective you feel towards me. I shouldn't have put you in a situation where you'd have to take a life to save mine, and I'm so, so sorry." Brenda trailed off, feeling unsure of how to continue.
"Brenda. I love you. I want to be with you. I don't want to go away from you." Fritz said simply.
"Fritz, I...," Brenda hesitated, not wanting to make it about feelings, not wanting to hurt him any more than she had to. She took a deep breath. "I can't be the reason you wake up miserable in 5 years, hating your job, and cursing your life. I won't be that reason. I know how much you want this promotion. I have the broken tea cup to prove it, and I won't stand in your way. I can't go with you, though. Because I don't want you to be the reason I wake up 5 years from now, hating my life." She jumped up, and ran into the living room, leaving him sitting stunned behind her. A moment later, she was back, carrying a manila folder. She laid it next to his plate, and sat down again.
"What's this?" He asked hollowly, not looking at it.
"It's an application." She answered honestly, then continued. "For Chief of the LAPD. That's apparently why the last few days have given me the pleasure of so much of Capt'n Raydor's company. They want a strong female candidate in the mix. And I'm the highest ranking female officer right now, so...they want me to throw my hat in the ring." She sat back, picking up her glass of water, and taking a sip.
"The Chief. Of the Los Angeles Police Department?" Fritz looked at Brenda, the folder held loosely in his hand. He flipped it open, as if to verify the contents, to make sure she wasn't teasing him with some wretched joke.
"This isn't your handwriting." He said flatly, looking at the paper.
"No, Sh—ahh, Captain Raydor filled it out before she gave it to me. All I have to do is sign it, and turn it in within the next 2 weeks." Brenda kicked herself for almost slipping and calling the Captain by her first name.
"Sharon, now, is it?" Fritz raised an eyebrow, wondering when the animosity between the two women had become a first name basis.
"Well, she's been around a lot, lately." Brenda replied defensively, cursing his FBI awareness.
"Mmm." He murmured, noncommittally, still looking at the application. "Why did she fill it out for you?"
"Uh, well. It may be common knowledge around the Department, how much I loathe paperwork." Brenda chuckled mirthlessly.
"So you really want to be the Chief of Police? Meet with the Mayor, shake hands, play politics all day?" Fritz looked skeptical.
"I really want to try. I think I owe it to myself, and to the women of the LAPD, to at least give it a fair shake. I don't want to look back and wonder." She ran her finger absently around the rim of her glass.
"Aren't you worried," Fritz's voice broke, and he cleared his throat before continuing, "that you'll look back and wonder about us, if I go? Or does our marriage mean so little in comparison?" His gaze was fixed on a point beyond Brenda's shoulder, unblinking.
"Fritz. I love you. Our time together? These last few years have been, wonderful. Everything I could've asked for in a marriage. But I'm not just a wife. I'm an officer, and I realized tonight, on the scene, that I'm an officer first, Fritz, and I don't think you and I will ever get past that, because you want me to be your wife first. Maybe if we'd met when I was younger, I could've thrown myself into marriage the way I threw myself into the job. But I know my own mind Fritz, and tonight, I realized, I can't possibly be the woman you want me to be. I don't want to be the mother of your children, I don't want to move to Washington DC and hobnob with FBI elites. I want to stay in the city that I love, in a job that I love, and protect and serve like I swore to do. I wish I could do both. I wish that my feelings for you were what you deserve. But I just can't be that woman. I can't. And you deserve a chance to find someone who can." Finally the tears spilled over, and Brenda sniffed furiously, wiping them away with her sleeve.
"So that's it. I save your life, realize I can't live without you, and you realize you can't live with me. I gotta say, this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I took the Liaison position with your Department, Brenda Leigh. " Fritz snorted, no humor in his eyes.
"Don't be like that, Fritz. That's not how it was. I just—I have to do what's best for all of us, don't I?" Brenda bit her lip, looking down.
"All of us, meaning, you? Because you seem to be making some pretty fierce assumptions on me, and what I want out of life." Fritz's voice took on a bitter edge. "Or maybe now you're the mind reader."
"That's not fair, and you know it. You've said yourself you want a family. You've made it clear that you'd like to settle into a nice, suburban routine. I can't give you that. I cannot. I don't want what you want Fritz, and I'm not sure I ever did. You were so kind to me, such a gentleman. I needed that, and I let myself think that it didn't matter that we wanted different things, because as long as we loved each other, that'd be enough. But it's not. I saw that this morning, I saw it in your eyes, and I saw it shattered on the floor. We can't fix this. And if we try, we're only going to end up bleeding." Brenda got up, and walked to the sink, unable to face him as she lied.
"Okay. Okay. You win. I'll go stay at a motel tonight, and I'll be out of here by the time you're due home from work tomorrow. We'll give being separated a shot. You can see how much a part of you I've become, by seeing the holes where I should be." Fritz shoved his chair back from the table, and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving Brenda leaning against the sink, watching her tears fall on the breakfast dishes.
A while later, Brenda had lost track of time, she heard the front door slam, then heard the sound of Fritz's SUV pulling out of the driveway. She looked at the dishes on the table, and decided she'd clean the up tomorrow. She dragged herself up the stairs, and stopped. Turning away from the bedroom she'd shared with Fritz, she walked into the guest bedroom, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She stared at the pattern on the rug until her eyes swam, and then she curled up on top of the covers, and tried to sleep. His angry words, the hurt in his eyes, they swirled around in her brain, a miasma of guilt. She knew that this was for the best, that it would hurt him less if he thought it was her job that had come between them, rather than another person. A woman.
Brenda rolled over, pulling the edge of the comforter around her shoulders. She couldn't possibly have it all. If she became Chief of Police, having an affair with a subordinate officer would be completely out of the question. Sharon had to know that. But still, even after everything, she'd given Brenda the application. Did that mean she'd rather have Brenda as a boss, than as...whatever they were doing? A possible lover? Brenda blinked. She glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table, and was surprised to find it was only 10 pm. It felt so much later. The conversation with Fritz had only taken an hour, though it had seemed to go on for much longer, Brenda realized. She stood up, and flipped the covers back, and climbed into the bed, burrowing deep under the blankets. She sighed, knowing that sleep was hours away, but not wanting to spend time prowling the house that now felt too empty, she was reticent to get out of bed. She knew she should feel more sadness about the end of her marriage. Fritz could call it a separation if he wanted, but she knew it was over. She'd seen the flat black of his eyes as he'd strode out of the kitchen, his legs stiff. He'd never forgive her for this. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't fix things. She smiled wryly. It was fortunate, then, that she didn't want to fix things.
An hour later, according to the glowing red numbers that mocked her, Brenda got up, and went into the bathroom where she'd taken her shower. She flipped open the hamper, and grabbed the blouse she'd been wearing. She held it to her nose, and took a small sniff. Immediately, the scent of oranges filled her nose. Brenda grinned, and wandered back to the guest room. She crawled underneath the covers, and held the shirt against her, letting the citrus perfume envelop her. She thought of Sharon, and how twice, she'd thought Brenda was giving her the brush off. Clearly, though it seemed to Brenda that her feelings may as well have been scrawled in day-glo marker across her forehead, she was doing a better job at controlling herself than she realized. She chuckled inwardly at that. Because kissing a subordinate officer in the stairway, after groping them outside of a suspects house was a fine example of control. She wondered what she'd have to do to make it obvious to Sharon, without giving it away to the entire department. She wondered what she'd do if Sharon didn't love her back. Brenda blinked at that thought, then laughed out loud. Loved her back. Because, apparently, Brenda, at some point unbeknownst to herself, had fallen in love with that woman. Of all the ridiculous, ironic plot twists. Burying her face in the shirt, she breathed in the Captain's scent, and grinned. Brenda Leigh Johnson was in love with Sharon Raydor.