Sharon was oblivious to the stares and whispers, as she held the younger woman tightly in her arms. Leaning her head down, she whispered into Brenda's ear.
"Come on. Let's let the CS people process this, and get you out of here for now." She kept an arm around Brenda's shaking shoulders, as she steered her towards the elevators.
Gabriel watched the scene unfold from his ground-level vantage point, and it was only the imminent threat of death that prevented him from throwing his hands in the air and cheering, as the two women walked out. He craned his neck, taking in the expressions on the faces of his coworkers. Pope looked flummoxed, his head tilted to the side, as if perhaps he was having a hard time hearing something. Delk's jaw was tight, his eyes narrow as he followed their exit with his gaze, and Gabriel felt the beginnings of a knot of concern bloom in his gut. Flynn didn't appear to have noticed, his focus on their clasped hands was laser-like. Tao was equally preoccupied, still holding the canister full of nerve gas. Provenza was leaned against a far wall, Sanchez next to him. Both men were inscrutable, but Gabriel was pretty sure they were aware of more than they were letting on. He breathed a sigh of relief. So far, only Delk looked to be a problem. He just hoped that the Mayor saw the political currency in appointing a hero, and that Brenda accepted the job. If Delk became their boss, he foresaw things getting very, very complicated.
Brenda kept her focus on the ground, woodenly putting one foot in front of the other. She was grateful for Sharon, for the warmth and the solid presence of her body. For the silence that didn't feel oppressive, or resentful. Her mouth was so dry, and she wondered if she'd be able to pry her tongue from the roof of her mouth to say anything, not that she knew what to say. Her bag hung heavy on her shoulder, and as she walked, she could hear the plastic clank of the manifesto disc against the butt of her gun. She knew she should turn around, and give it to the CS team. She knew that, in all likelihood, if Sharon knew she had it, she'd take it back for her. But the thought of that lunatic on every news station, his hateful rhetoric the subject of analysis, like it had merit…her stomach flipped at the idea. No, she thought. Best to take it home, then. She was dimly aware of Sharon herding her into the dark sedan, but once the door was closed, the contact between them broken, she began to shiver again. She pressed her knuckles into her eyes, hoping to drive away the ever-looping visual of the dark wound blooming on Masen's temple, the violent red spray across Gabriel's surprised face, the rapidly widening pool of blood beneath their bodies.
Sharon slid into the driver's seat, and pulled Brenda close, pressing her lips to the blond woman's slightly clammy forehead. She ran her hands down Brenda's back, feeling the reassuring expansion and contraction of the ribs, the proof that they were both alive, and mostly okay.
"You okay if I drive?" She whispered, her cheek resting on Brenda's tousled hair.
"Yeah. I just need…can we go…I don't want to be alone tonight, Sharon. If that's all right with you." Brenda knew she sounded weak, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
"I wasn't planning on letting you out of my sight." Sharon replied softly, tilting Brenda's chin up, laying a gentle kiss on her lips.
"They say it gets easier. But it doesn't. It gets worse. Because you start to know what to expect," Brenda leaned back in the seat, closing her eyes as Sharon eased the car into traffic. "You know that if it's a head shot, the crime scene will smell sort of like raw hamburger and gun powder. You can predict the way a body will fall as it dies. You get accustomed to causing death, in a way. I'm supposed to solve murders, not commit them. This is number four, for me. Have you ever killed anyone?" She asked, plaintively.
Sharon reached over, and grasped Brenda's hand tightly, lacing their fingers together.
"I was in the Army, Brenda. And then I was a police officer. We've all had to make that terrible split second decision. And you're right. It doesn't get easier. But you can't second guess yourself. That man was poised to kill thousands of people. Not only that, but he was going to do it the same way the Nazi's did. You saved all of them. You, and your team. Keep that in mind as well." She answered, squeezing Brenda's hand gently.
"He thought he was doing the right thing, too. Who's to say I'm not as crazy as he was?" Brenda whispered roughly.
"Behavioral Sciences." Sharon replied lightly, hoping to curb the spiral into despair that Brenda seemed to be on. It worked, and Brenda giggled.
"That hasn't gone so well for me before. I got declared unfit, because I wasn't upset about it. Guess that won't be a problem this time." Here, she snorted derisively. "I think I'm getting soft in my old age, Cap'n."
Sharon cut her eyes at Brenda, and chose to ignore the easy comeback, instead bringing their joined hands up, and kissing Brenda's knuckles, before untangling their fingers so she could shift the vehicle into park. They got out of the car, and Brenda blinked, realizing they were outside of her home. She started up the walk, fumbling for her keys. The third time she tried to fit the key into the lock, Sharon's hands closed over hers.
"Let me." She murmured, twisting the key, and pushing the door open.
"Thanks. Thank you…for being here. I don't really…this is a terrible third date, I think." Brenda smiled weakly.
Sharon walked into the entry hall, and snapped on the lamp on the table, dropping the keys in the dish. Brenda watched as the dark haired woman moved comfortably through her house, arching a brow as Sharon walked into the kitchen, flipping on that light as well. She heard glassware tinkling, and then Sharon poked her head through the doorway.
"Are you going to stand there? Or are you going to come into your own house, and take off your shoes, and act like you live here?" She admonished, with a small grin.
Brenda stepped out of her heels, wincing as the shoe rubbed against a blister on her tendon, and walked in stocking feet into the kitchen. Sharon turned, as she entered the room, and handed her a generously poured glass of Merlot. Brenda felt the spike of tears behind her eyelids, and she quickly raised the glass to her lips, hoping to compose herself. Sharon moved to stand next to her, her hand resting lightly on Brenda's back.
"Come on, bring that upstairs." She said, guiding Brenda to the staircase, and steering her up the steps. She settled Brenda on the bed, then went into the en suite, and ran the water for a bath, groaning as she scanned the shelves for something resembling bath salts, or even one of those infernal bath bombs that fizzed, that her daughter had been so enamored with. Spying an apothecary jar on the toilet tank, she grinned in relief, as the familiar shape of bath bombs in various colors stood out in stark relief against the white. She selected a purple one, hoping it was lavender, and tossed it into the water.
While the tub filled, she walked back out, to where Brenda sat, sipping her wine, in exactly the spot Sharon had left her. She pursed her lips, watching the younger woman, hating the sudden silences, and the smallness of her voice when she did speak. Sharon understood, probably better than Brenda knew, how she was feeling, but she also knew, that to dwell on it was madness. So she knelt in front of Brenda, trailing her fingers up her leg, pressing a kiss against the cap of her knee, before pulling her into a standing position. She reached beneath the dress, and hooked her fingers into the waistband of Brenda's nylons, and slowly rolled them down. She felt the other woman's slender hand on her shoulder for balance, as she lifted one foot, and then the other, kicking the panty hose aside. Sharon stood, and turned Brenda to face away from her, laying gentle kisses on the curves of her shoulders, as she unzipped the salmon dress, and slid it down over her lean frame. Finally, she unhooked the bra, slipping it down over Brenda's arms, and then gently slid her panties off. Brenda wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Sharon pulled Brenda back against her, wrapping her arms over Brenda's, holding the woman close. She began to walk them into the bath, helping Brenda into the tub.
"Where do you keep your washcloths?" She asked, keeping her voice low.
"Uh, they're behind that cabinet, there, on the third shelf up. " Brenda replied, sinking into the water, feeling the tingle of tiny bubbles as they clung to her skin, before popping. The air was steamy with the scent of lavender, and the water was hot. Brenda felt so cold. She leaned her head back against the curve of the tub, and closed her eyes. Flashes of light and color exploded on her eyelids, each one starting out a vibrant white, or orange, and then fading to the dull red, taking on the shape of the pool of blood beneath Kevin Masen's head. She could feel the tears leaking, trailing from the corners of her eyes, down the indentation of her temple, soaking the fine hairs there.
Sharon dipped the cloth into the water, and picked up Brenda's right arm, methodically wiping her hands, cleaning away the gunshot residue first. As she passed the cloth over Brenda's trigger finger, she paused, tracing her thumb over the callus on the topmost knuckle.
"Look." Sharon whispered, putting her hand over Brenda's, fitting their fingers together. "I have one too." She ran her thumb over both of their calluses. "I know."
She continued to dip the cloth into the water, scrubbing Brenda's arms, and belly, her back and her legs, and finally her face, wiping the salty tracks away. Glancing around, she found a plastic tumbler, some amusement park logo splashed across it in garish lime green.
"Is this clean?" She asked, holding it up.
"Yeah. I used to use that to rinse Kitty off, when she got too sick to groom properly."
"Okay. I'm just going to get your hair wet, and then we'll shampoo it, all right?"
"Okay." Brenda was boneless in the heat of the water, the firm strokes of Sharon's hands and the washcloth had taken all of the knots out of her muscles, leaving her feeling rather like a jellyfish, or a noodle.
Sharon poured water over Brenda's hair, making sure to keep it off of her face, the movement coming naturally after raising two children. She quickly spotted the freesia shampoo, and snagged the bottle, squirting a dollop into her hands. She smoothed the lather over Brenda's hair, letting her fingers massage her scalp. She smiled as Brenda let out a sigh that sounded relaxed for the first time since the woman had thrown herself into Sharon's arms in the parking garage. Rinsing the suds away, she laughed softly. Brenda opened one eye, peering up at her.
"Something funny?" She mumbled.
"Just…are you a lather, rinse, repeat kind of girl? Or do you just lather and rinse?" Sharon couldn't keep the hint of mirth out of her voice as she parroted Brenda's words from their shower back at her.
To her relief, Brenda laughed, replying, "Tonight, I just lather and rinse."
Sharon nodded, pulling the plug from the drain, and stood, cringing as her knees cracked audibly. She reached for the enormous peach bath towel, then extended a hand to Brenda, who accepted, and stood with a little help. Sharon wrapped the towel around Brenda, then helped her step out of the tub. She dried her body, taking care not to let her touches linger, to arouse. Turning, she pulled the terry cloth robe from its hook on the door, and held it open, as Brenda shrugged into it. Sharon tied it at the waist, and then pushed Brenda to sit on the closed toilet, wrapping the towel gently around blond locks, squeezing the moisture out.
"Blow dryer?" She questioned, as she wicked as much moisture up with the towel as possible.
Brenda shook her head, leaning back into Sharon's hands. "I'm tired." She answered.
Sharon took the hint, and pulled Brenda to her feet, herding her back into the bedroom. She looked around, at a loss for the first time since she'd taken charge, opening the door for Brenda.
"I am hesitant, to go rooting through your dresser drawers. Perhaps you could point me in the direction of pajamas, or nightgowns?"
"I usually wear a big tee shirt. And they're in the second drawer down, over there." Brenda answered, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
Sharon walked over to the bureau, and fetched a shirt that had…the Dixie Chicks? And one that featured.. the Budwiser frogs. Frowning, she gave a cursory second look through the drawer, but the remaining choices weren't much better.
"Annoying twangy women, or frogs?" She asked, holding both up in front of Brenda.
"Frogs. But this better be the only time you bring other women to bed with us." Brenda replied, finally smiling , a real smile.
Sharon laughed, shucking her clothing, and pulling the tee shirt over her head. They climbed into bed, and Sharon pulled Brenda tight against her, tangling her fingers in still damp curls.
"Things will look better in the morning, sweetheart. I promise." She reached over, and snapped off the light, staring up into the darkness, until the moonlight softened its edges. "I promise."
Brenda's only response was a soft sigh. She was already asleep.