Sharon Raydor took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she stood from her desk and gathered her things to head home. It was almost midnight and she and her team had just finished an intense 72-hr reporting cycle.
On her way out, she remembered she'd received a message from Buzz informing her that one of Lt. Provenza's crossword puzzles was missing. It was one from the previous Sunday that he hadn't finished yet. Buzz sounded like he was trying to be diplomatic about it, but Lt. Provenza could be heard in the background blustering about her stealing it from him (just like she had the Chief's coffee) and about people not touching things on his desk.
While Sharon had certainly not stolen his beloved crossword puzzle, one had appeared in the middle of a stack of papers on her desk. The discovery was a bit of a surprise until she recalled her hurried exit from Priority Homicide earlier in the week. They had all been gathered in the murder room for a debrief meeting with Chief Pope when she got the call about another Officer Involved Shooting. She had quickly gathered up her things, turned, and excused herself, still on the phone as she'd headed out the door.
Thinking back on the briefing, Sharon did vaguely remember the Lieutenant throwing the puzzle down in annoyance at something Chief Pope had said. She was in such a rush to leave that she had accidentally swept it up with her papers and then was so busy with her investigation, she hadn't even noticed it until days later.
She chuckled to herself recalling the message and Lt. Provenza griping in the background. But there was also a little pang of…something else...when he brought up her taking the coffee meant for the Chief from the Command tent at their recent crime scene. The rest of the squad hadn't seemed to notice at the time, so the Chief must have been irritated enough to bring it up after the fact.
Sharon thought she would feel more pleased to have gotten under Chief Johnson's skin so easily, but instead it was laced with a little…what was that…guilt? Upon further reflection, she conceded that it had been a rather unkind thing to do, but her rivalry with the Chief was nothing new and "you snooze, you lose" seemed to be the name of the game. It's not like the cup had said "Reserved for Chief Johnson" on it, and Sharon really had needed the caffeine that day. Besides, it was just coffee…so why was she starting to feel bad about it?
Shaking her head, she brought her focus back to the present. She walked back over to her desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out the carefully-folded newspaper. She couldn't leave something like that just sitting out on her desk, but she also hadn't wanted to throw it away, so she had tucked it in her drawer for safekeeping, planning to say something about it when she had a chance–which she hadn't, thanks to this latest OIS.
She had half expected the Lieutenant to march up to her office himself to reclaim it, but then again, he had spent enough time in her office involuntarily, it was a bit difficult to imagine him choosing to visit FID, even if it was to retrieve his precious puzzle. Sharon stopped now to take a look at the partially-completed puzzle.
She noticed one area had been filled in and erased several times. It wouldn't hurt to help him out a bit, would it? She read a clue and then grabbed a pen rather than a pencil and wrote in the answer. The hint of a smirk danced at the corner of her mouth as she thought about the Lieutenant's face when he discovered her…contribution. Crossword puzzle in hand, she grabbed her bag, draped her coat over her arm, switched off the light, and exited her office. She would stop by Priority Homicide on her way out to drop it off.
A glance from the doorway let Sharon know the squad had been sent home for the night, the murder room empty. But as she approached Lt. Provenza's desk to deposit his beloved puzzle, she noticed the light was still on in the Chief's office. She could just see through a crack where one of the vertical blinds had caught the edge of another and was stuck.
The Chief was poring over papers spread out on her desk. Sharon watched as she leaned back and removed her glasses, tossing them down onto the papers in front of her with a frustrated sigh. Rubbing her furrowed brow with one hand, Brenda's other hand reached out blindly for the not-so-secret stash of chocolate in her desk drawer.
Sharon had heard they'd picked up a case and it seemed like the Chief was certainly up to her eyeballs, despite having sent the rest of her team home to get some rest. At that thought, Sharon yawned, her own fatigue catching up with her, and she quietly turned and left.
The next morning, Sharon arrived at Parker Center and was almost bowled over by the Priority Homicide team as they spilled out of the elevator and into the parking garage, racing to their vehicles. It seemed they had a break in the case. Even with the few hours rest and the adrenaline boost of pursuing a fresh lead, Sharon could see the exhaustion on the team's faces.
The Chief managed a half-hearted "'scuse me" as she ran into Sharon's shoulder, but it barely registered, and she didn't stop or even look up to see who she had hit. Has she been there all night? Sharon tried to recall what the Chief had been wearing when she'd glimpsed her through the blinds the night before, but she had been so focused on Brenda's fatigue and frustration, she hadn't registered what the blonde was wearing. Not that it really mattered, most of them–Sharon included–kept an extra change of clothes on hand in case of emergencies.
Sharon missed her elevator in all the commotion, so she continued to stand and watch while waiting for the next one to arrive. With the rest of the team already gone, the Chief's movements slowed, her steps appearing uncharacteristically heavy as she made her way to her car. The door seemed to weigh 1000 pounds as she struggled to wrench it open, tossing her handbag in without even looking and then plopping unceremoniously into the driver's seat. The blonde ran her hands through her hair and sighed deeply once, then a second time before starting the car and pulling out to join the team. The dark shadows Sharon noticed under Brenda's eyes this morning definitely weren't just from the bad lighting in the parking garage…Brenda? When had she started thinking of Chief Johnson as Brenda?
She stared at the Chief's receding tail lights until she heard a ding signaling the next elevator had arrived. Then she turned and strode not toward the opening doors, but back out into the parking garage to her car. She had wrapped up her reporting cycle the night before and thankfully no new calls had come in just yet. She knew she had a little extra time before her first meeting.
Before she knew it, Sharon found herself back in her neighborhood pulling up outside a familiar coffee shop. Her favorite little place. Situated a few blocks off the main roads, it was a hidden gem and she liked it that way. It was a mix of rich, dark wood and plush seats balanced with large windows that let in plenty of natural light, but without the feeling of being exposed or on display to passersby.
There were a few tables out in the open, but this wasn't the place for quick, casual meetings or business networking. Most of the space was configured into little nooks where people could tuck themselves away to escape into a book, work on their latest sketch, delve into a deep conversation with a confident, or just sit quietly, lost in thought. Classy, intimate. And the drinks were exquisite; hand-crafted from expensive ingredients and each one a work of art as much as a beverage. Sharon loved this place. It was where she came when she needed to slow down, to ground herself, a respite from the stress and intensity of her work.
It wasn't normally somewhere she stopped for a to-go order, but today it felt right. She wasn't quite sure why, maybe it was a lot of things. Partly the nagging guilt at having ok, yes, stolen the Chief's coffee at the crime scene. Partly the juxtaposition of her own almost-full night of sleep with the exhaustion clearly painted across Brenda's drawn face this morning. Sharon knew that feeling well having just come off a particularly brutal 72-hour reporting cycle herself. Maybe this was part celebration, a treat for herself for making it through, but more than that, she wanted to do something for the Chief–for Brenda.
Something had shifted, cracked open a little. In those tiny moments last night and this morning, Sharon had gotten a glimpse of Brenda the person; tired and vulnerable, holding herself together by one last, fraying thread. Sharon knew that place–those feelings. She hid it well enough, but she understood. And what Sharon wouldn't have given in those instances for a small act of kindness. A look, a gesture, anything to let her know she wasn't alone when things seemed impossible and dark.
She approached the counter and the barista smiled at her warmly in recognition, reaching for a beautiful pottery mug she knew was one of Sharon's favorites. Sharon shook her head and indicated this would be a to-go order. The woman's eyebrows raised slightly, but she shifted smoothly and started to make Sharon's usual. But there was no hiding her surprise when she heard the second part of the order.
The barista's flowing movements came to a complete halt and she almost knocked a stack of cups onto the floor. Sharon was a regular, predictable. She ordered the same thing every time before finding a quiet nook to retire to for a while. She didn't always come alone, but her guests usually joined her at the counter to ask questions and place their own orders. Looking around, the barista saw no one else nearby. Was there a name for this second to-go order?
Sharon shook her head slightly again and shrugged one shoulder. The barista made a silly face, laughing at herself for her clumsiness before averting her eyes in embarrassment as she headed over to the area of the counter containing an assortment of expensive chocolates.
Sharon watched with interest as the barista scanned the options and then removed several larger hunks of differing types, carefully chipping and shaving off small portions of each before replacing the larger chunks in their bins. When she was satisfied, she then transferred the mixture into a small double-boiler to melt before adding it into the second beverage. The mysterious extra to-go cup with no name. Sharon smiled again and thanked her, taking the two piping hot beverages and carefully heading to her car.
Traffic was worse than expected on the way back to Parker Center and she hoped she still had time before Brenda and her squad got back from wherever they had sped off to earlier. Sharon hovered in the doorway and surveyed the room–which appeared to be empty–waiting an extra beat, then another just to make sure. She made a beeline for the Chief's office and set the coffee right in the middle of her desk, careful not to spill anything on the papers that were spread out there. She hovered for a moment debating whether to leave a note, then turned around and exited the room as quickly as she had entered, making her way back to her office.
Brenda and the team spilled back into the murder room about 15 minutes later. It had been a long morning already and it wasn't even 9am yet. She had fallen asleep at her desk the night before and never made it home, but so far no one on the team had commented on the fact that she was still wearing the same outfit. At least it was black this time and not a more colorful and memorable floral print. She really needed to remember to bring in another backup outfit!
She headed straight for her office and stopped in her tracks just inside the door as her eyes registered a to-go cup sitting on her desk. That definitely hadn't been there when they'd rolled out this morning, and she hadn't seen anyone from the team carrying coffee when they returned. Turning and closing the door, Brenda slowly approached the desk, eyes fixed on the offending object, assessing it from every angle.
The cup itself was a deep shade of green with an unfamiliar logo emblazoned on the side in brown. She brushed her thumb across the logo, feeling its smooth, raised contours. It was embossed, not just printed on the surface of the cup. She wondered, fleetingly, if this was some kind of prank. She'd certainly pissed off a lot of people lately…
Carefully, she lifted the lid and was met with the rich aroma of coffee mixed with dark chocolate and just a hint of some spice she couldn't put her finger on. It smelled amazing. She inhaled once more, trying to decide whether to drink it or not when her body involuntarily produced a yawn so big it made her jaw hurt and her eyes water. Brenda was so tired she decided she didn't care if it was poisoned and she ended up dead. Then someone else could come and deal with the headache of investigating her murder.
Tentatively, she took a sip. It was a bit cool, but delicious. It tasted like she was drinking an expensive dessert. She closed her eyes and took another sip, letting out an audible "Mmmm" before she could help herself. Brenda's eyes bolted open–thank heavens she'd had enough sense to close her door! She wanted to take her time, to slowly savor the full, rich, chocolatey flavor of her mystery coffee, but there was no time. She needed the caffeine to kick in ASAP. She gulped it down greedily, sending a silent prayer of gratitude to whomever had left it there for her.
A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and when she responded, Lt. Flynn popped his head in to let her know they had something. She wanted to figure out who her coffee benefactor was, but there was no time for that now. She downed the last sip and carefully tucked the cup behind her oversized handbag on the floor next to her desk. That was something to investigate later…