Driving to the station, Brenda wondered about Sharon's actions in the hospital. Rules, more than almost anything, defined Sharon. So had she compromised herself because she thought it would soften Brenda's ire? That seemed unlikely. So there had to be something else, but Brenda couldn't pin it down in the short distance between the hospital and the department. Entering her office, she walked past the coat rack and tossed her bag and blazer on the table, then flopped into her chair. She reached for a file on the corner of her desk, and thumbed it open, pressing her fingers to her temple as she read.
The sound of her door opening, accompanied by a soft knock had her glancing up and smiling, expecting Sharon. Her face fell a bit, as Fritz stepped over the threshold into her office.
"Fritz. I'm in the middle of something right now." She hoped to head him off.
"I know, I heard about Andy. I'm glad he's basically okay, all things considered."
"Mmm. Thanks. What can I do for you?"
"Have you heard anything about the restructuring that Delk is considering?"
"Have I heard about…no! The man just got appointed yesterday. What on earth could he have decided in 24 hours?"
"Word around the coffee machine is, Pope is out, and you're in as assistant Chief." Fritz grinned broadly.
"What?! That's just… That's ridiculous, Fritz. Pope is much more politically minded, he's excellent at his job, and I won't be the one to take it from him."
"Technically, that's true. Delk would be taking it from him, and giving it to you."
"Well, I'll return it. I'm happy right here in Major Crimes."
"Really? Because it seems to me that you sent me to DC because you wanted to be Chief of the entire department, Brenda Leigh."
"I thought I owed it to female officers to give it a shot. But if I had to pick, I'd rather stay just where I am."
"Owed it to…that doesn't sound like you at all. That sounds like Captain Raydor. Is she the one who put the idea in your head?" The smile finally slipped off of Fritz's face.
"You know what? I do not have time for this right now. I have to go talk to my squad." She shoved her chair back with more force than was strictly necessary, and stalked to the door. "And I'll have you know, I am a big girl, Fritz, and I make my own choices. I chose to end our marriage, I chose to apply for Chief of the LAPD, and I chose to shoot a man the day before the selection was to be announced. I make my own choices. I stand by my choices. They're choices, Fritzi, but they haven't been mistakes. If you'll excuse me, now." She pushed past him, and waved at Provenza, giving him the nod to start preparing for the briefing. She heard the soft thuds of Fritz's loafers as he strode down the hall, towards Pope's office. Shrugging her shoulders to shake away the tension, she turned her focus on Provenza, and the case at hand.
That evening, Brenda sat at her desk, staring at the files that had closed this case for her. Witness tampering. Of all the ridiculous ideas. And Sharon hadn't bothered to let her in on this, either, just like she'd chosen not to tell Brenda about Andy's late night phone call. On the other hand, she had given Andy the chance to defer identifying his attacker. And they'd agreed, sort of, to keep their work separate from what they were doing outside of the job. Still, Brenda couldn't help the tendril of frustration that curled through her stomach as she glared at Rick Zuman's file. Maybe she'd just go home tonight, and give herself a break from Sharon, and from Fritz. They'd been awfully chummy during the bust at the bus station. Brenda rolled her eyes. That was all she needed, those two commiserating about how hard she was to be with. She shoved her chair back, and grabbed her bag, fishing her keys out as she stalked towards the elevators.
She let herself in the house, kicking off her heels with a groan. Joel wrapped himself around her ankles, mewing piteously.
"I know, kitty. I'm going to feed you in a minute." She leaned down, and scratched his head. In the kitchen, she poured some dry food into his dish, and a tall glass of merlot for herself. She gave the fridge a baleful glance, as her stomach rumbled. She pulled open the door, and peered at the contents. There was a wilted head of lettuce, and some yogurt long past it's prime. She yanked open the freezer, and pulled out a pint of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. She wandered back into the living room, setting down her spoils, and reached back, unhooking her bra, and pulling it off through her sleeve. She plopped down on the sofa, and turned on the TV. It was tuned to the news station Fritz watched in the mornings, he must've had it on this morning. She watched as a cheery blonde recounted the amazing cooperation between the FBI and the LAPD in cracking a remarkable case full of mystery and intrigue! Brenda snorted, and spooned up some ice cream.
At 8:30, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and saw Sharon's name flashing. She hit the ignore button. A moment later, the phone rang again. Sharon, again. She hit ignore, again. Then, her doorbell rang. She raised an eyebrow, and padded to the door, pulling it open, revealing a scowling Captain on her doorstep.
"I assume your phone is off, and that's why I'm getting your voicemail."
"Sharon. I just…today was such a long day. And I needed some time to process." Brenda stepped back, allowing Sharon some space to enter.
"Is this about last night? About me not waking you? Because I thought I'd explained myself quite clearly." Sharon moved into the entryway.
"You did, about that. It doesn't mean I like having decisions made for me. But I understand it. I don't like it. I also don't like being surprised at work. I know that you have rules in FID, but Sharon, the witness tampering investigation against Andy…that knocked me for another loop." Brenda shut the door behind Sharon, and headed back to the sofa, tucking her feet beneath her.
"Brenda. We spoke about this, at length the other night. I can't compromise my investigations. Rather, I won't. And I'd hope that you wouldn't ask me to." Sharon perched at the edge of a cushion.
"Of course I wouldn't ask you to compromise your investigations, for heaven's sake! But some sort of head's up would have been nice. I hate not knowing things, Sharon. You know that. It just all sort of hit me, and then that awful Tommy Delk, talking about giving me Pope's job. I needed some time, is all." Brenda sipped her wine, and straightened her skirt.
"I'll go, then. I just wanted…to make sure you were all right. With Fritz being back, and everything, I wasn't sure…" Sharon trailed off, and stood.
"Wait. Wait. Sit back down a bit. Let me get you a glass of wine, or something." Brenda laid her hand on Sharon's arm, pulling her back to the couch.
"It's fine, Brenda. I'll just be on my way. You're tired, I'm tired, and I haven't been home yet. So I'll see you tomorrow."
Brenda set her glass down on the table, and threw a leg over Sharon's lap, pinning her to the cushion. She wriggled herself into position, straddling the infuriating Captain, and stopped the conversation with a kiss. Sharon responded slowly, and Brenda let her hands trail the length of Sharon's arms, tangling their hands together. The softness of Sharon's lips was Brenda's undoing, and all the irritation of the day flowed away, as she traced their contours with her tongue. Sharon opened to her, and the touch was electric, sending jolts through Brenda's body as Sharon mapped Brenda's mouth. Reluctantly, Brenda pulled back from the kiss.
"Stay with me tonight?"
"If you're sure, Brenda." Sharon's voice was low with arousal.
"I'm sure." Brenda replied, bringing their lips together once more.
**author's note**
So, it's been 8 months. Not in the least because I am a terriblely attention deficit person. But also because I couldn't find a transcript of Old Money. And I'm too lazy to do my own transcription. So this chapter is just yanking the story along, so that I can move into the better territory of the Christmas episodes. And of course, moar smexytiemz.