Fic: Conflict of Interest (Raydor/Hobbs)
Title: Conflict of Interest
Pairing: Sharon Raydor/Andrea Hobbs
Rating: T
Word count: 1200
A/N: Written for defyingnormalcy, who was also kind enough to provide betatorial services.
“I see. Goodbye.” The phone slammed down into the receiver, a clash of plastic molding against irritating news.
Sharon didn’t see, but she couldn’t tell the District Attorney that.
One of her hard-negotiated plea deals was being disregarded by the prosecutor’s office.
Prosecutorial discretion, my ass.
She hadn't felt so put-off since those first awkward days taking over the helm of her new division. She'd quickly earned respect by getting results--not in the same manner as her predecessor, to be sure, but she'd done pretty well so far at securing convictions on the cheap.
Today was the first blemish on that track record.
Jim Laine had confessed to killing the prostitute-- Melodie Richards, an internal voice sounding an awful lot like Andy Flynn’s reminded her; the victim had a name. After she had conferred with the Deputy District Attorney and determined that, without being able to prove intent, a third-degree murder charge would be about the best they could hope for, she’d gotten him to accept the deal on the table of murder three, minimum fifteen years, and gone into her office congratulating herself for a solid day's work.
Now she had to face the prospect of gearing up her team for a trial that wouldn’t happen for at least a year (though there’d almost certainly be hours and hours of evidentiary hearings that would take up valuable police time). Not to mention her ire at the DDA for fucking this up.
Had she let her judgment get clouded? Was Andrea just trying to please her, without sufficient regard to her duties or her supervisor, when she’d signed off on the deal Sharon suggested?
She was about to find out, she thought grimly as she shouldered her bag and headed home to confront the culprit. Whatever was going to happen, she was glad Rusty had told her he’d be spending the night at a friend’s house. He’d had enough drama in his life; he didn’t need to see his foster mother fighting with her girlfriend.
* * *
Sharon entered her condo quietly, not wanting to be caught wrong-footed. Unfortunately, the open floorplan gave her no cover.
Andrea was in the kitchen, stirring a large pot. She noticed Sharon standing in the doorway and a guilty look immediately came over her features before she schooled them into something more neutral.
“Hello,” Sharon said, toeing out of her pumps. She picked them up and headed for the bedroom to change.
Andrea appeared in the bedroom a few minutes later, leaning against the doorframe of the walk-in closet as Sharon pulled on a pair of yoga pants.
“I take it you heard from the DA,” Andrea said.
Sharon just nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“You know it’s unusual for him to ignore the recommendation of the DDA assigned to the case.”
“Never had it happen before,” Sharon snapped.
“I tried, Sharon. He just wasn’t comfortable with murder three.”
“Murder two’s not gonna get him much longer than the fifteen-to-twenty that we worked out,” Sharon said. “And it’ll cost the city five times as much to try him and go through the appeals process than to just lock him up now and let him serve his time.”
Andrea moved closer, reaching a hand out to Sharon’s shoulder. “That’s on the DA, and the mayor, who, incidentally, I’m pretty sure is the reason my boss rejected the deal. It’s not on you.”
“Isn’t it?” Sharon asked bitterly. “Were we both being objective at our jobs today? We thought we were on the same page with that guy, but it didn’t hold up.”
“Sharon, come on.” Andrea let Sharon finish tugging on a plain white v-neck tee shirt, then gently led her to the bed by the elbow. They both sat down, Sharon still stiff and tense. “Baby,” Andrea started.
Sharon’s glare cut that sentiment short.
“The deal was fine,” Andrea tried again. “I’m telling you, it’s a weird one-off. Something else is going on, but I swear it has nothing to do with you and me.”
“Does your boss know about us?” Sharon asked pointedly. No one at Major Crimes had any idea that Sharon had started dating the strawberry-blond prosecutor months before Chief Johnson’s departure, or that Andie had a key to her house, and she preferred to keep it that way, for now. But she had no way of knowing whether Andrea had been as circumspect.
Andrea shook her head. “I don’t think so, and if he does, he certainly didn’t say anything that would make me think he was shooting down the deal just because of you.”
"I just worry...not about other people knowing about us, but whether it's a problem given how closely together we work." Sharon's green eyes bored into her lover's blue ones. "People's lives are in the balance, Andie. Justice, the rule of law."
"What are you saying?" Andrea leaned closer to Sharon and tentatively placed a light hand at her back, not wanting to make things worse.
Sharon flopped back, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know. Maybe we need to not work the same cases anymore." She reached out to stroke Andrea's hip.
Andrea took that as an invitation to ease back, too, and propped herself up on her elbow so she could face Sharon. “Don’t you know by now that if I disagree with you on something--anything-- that I have no problem letting you know?”
“Yeah,” Sharon admitted. “I suppose.”
“The day that I’m not able to be objective in how we deal with criminals, whether in your office or mine, is the day that I’ll call this--” she gestured between them “-- a conflict of interest.” She leaned in and placed a kiss to the corner of Sharon’s mouth. “But today is not that day.”
Sharon rolled closer toward Andrea and buried her face in the crook of Andrea’s neck. “You’ve convinced me, counselor,” she said before trailing her tongue over the space beneath her ear.
“Uh-uh,” Andrea chided when Sharon’s hand moved to cover her breast. “Later, certainly. But we’ve got carbonara to eat first.”
Sharon sat up, delighted, all thoughts of pawing at her lover pushed aside for the moment. “You made my favorite?” she sighed. “You evil, evil woman.”
Standing up, Andrea reached out a hand to help Sharon from the bed as well, and led her into the kitchen, where a still-steaming platter of creamy white pasta and a bowl of dark leafy greens sat between two place settings.
“You see,” Andrea said, pulling out Sharon’s chair for her, “I knew we’d need our energy for the making up we still have to do.”
“Oh, honey,” Sharon said. “We already have.” She reached over and served Andrea some of the pasta before placing a heaping serving on her own plate. She twirled some fettuccine around her fork, and somehow smirked as she slurped up the noodles. “That’s not to say I won’t still let you try.”
Pairing: Sharon Raydor/Andrea Hobbs
Rating: T
Word count: 1200
A/N: Written for defyingnormalcy, who was also kind enough to provide betatorial services.
“I see. Goodbye.” The phone slammed down into the receiver, a clash of plastic molding against irritating news.
Sharon didn’t see, but she couldn’t tell the District Attorney that.
One of her hard-negotiated plea deals was being disregarded by the prosecutor’s office.
Prosecutorial discretion, my ass.
She hadn't felt so put-off since those first awkward days taking over the helm of her new division. She'd quickly earned respect by getting results--not in the same manner as her predecessor, to be sure, but she'd done pretty well so far at securing convictions on the cheap.
Today was the first blemish on that track record.
Jim Laine had confessed to killing the prostitute-- Melodie Richards, an internal voice sounding an awful lot like Andy Flynn’s reminded her; the victim had a name. After she had conferred with the Deputy District Attorney and determined that, without being able to prove intent, a third-degree murder charge would be about the best they could hope for, she’d gotten him to accept the deal on the table of murder three, minimum fifteen years, and gone into her office congratulating herself for a solid day's work.
Now she had to face the prospect of gearing up her team for a trial that wouldn’t happen for at least a year (though there’d almost certainly be hours and hours of evidentiary hearings that would take up valuable police time). Not to mention her ire at the DDA for fucking this up.
Had she let her judgment get clouded? Was Andrea just trying to please her, without sufficient regard to her duties or her supervisor, when she’d signed off on the deal Sharon suggested?
She was about to find out, she thought grimly as she shouldered her bag and headed home to confront the culprit. Whatever was going to happen, she was glad Rusty had told her he’d be spending the night at a friend’s house. He’d had enough drama in his life; he didn’t need to see his foster mother fighting with her girlfriend.
* * *
Sharon entered her condo quietly, not wanting to be caught wrong-footed. Unfortunately, the open floorplan gave her no cover.
Andrea was in the kitchen, stirring a large pot. She noticed Sharon standing in the doorway and a guilty look immediately came over her features before she schooled them into something more neutral.
“Hello,” Sharon said, toeing out of her pumps. She picked them up and headed for the bedroom to change.
Andrea appeared in the bedroom a few minutes later, leaning against the doorframe of the walk-in closet as Sharon pulled on a pair of yoga pants.
“I take it you heard from the DA,” Andrea said.
Sharon just nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“You know it’s unusual for him to ignore the recommendation of the DDA assigned to the case.”
“Never had it happen before,” Sharon snapped.
“I tried, Sharon. He just wasn’t comfortable with murder three.”
“Murder two’s not gonna get him much longer than the fifteen-to-twenty that we worked out,” Sharon said. “And it’ll cost the city five times as much to try him and go through the appeals process than to just lock him up now and let him serve his time.”
Andrea moved closer, reaching a hand out to Sharon’s shoulder. “That’s on the DA, and the mayor, who, incidentally, I’m pretty sure is the reason my boss rejected the deal. It’s not on you.”
“Isn’t it?” Sharon asked bitterly. “Were we both being objective at our jobs today? We thought we were on the same page with that guy, but it didn’t hold up.”
“Sharon, come on.” Andrea let Sharon finish tugging on a plain white v-neck tee shirt, then gently led her to the bed by the elbow. They both sat down, Sharon still stiff and tense. “Baby,” Andrea started.
Sharon’s glare cut that sentiment short.
“The deal was fine,” Andrea tried again. “I’m telling you, it’s a weird one-off. Something else is going on, but I swear it has nothing to do with you and me.”
“Does your boss know about us?” Sharon asked pointedly. No one at Major Crimes had any idea that Sharon had started dating the strawberry-blond prosecutor months before Chief Johnson’s departure, or that Andie had a key to her house, and she preferred to keep it that way, for now. But she had no way of knowing whether Andrea had been as circumspect.
Andrea shook her head. “I don’t think so, and if he does, he certainly didn’t say anything that would make me think he was shooting down the deal just because of you.”
"I just worry...not about other people knowing about us, but whether it's a problem given how closely together we work." Sharon's green eyes bored into her lover's blue ones. "People's lives are in the balance, Andie. Justice, the rule of law."
"What are you saying?" Andrea leaned closer to Sharon and tentatively placed a light hand at her back, not wanting to make things worse.
Sharon flopped back, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know. Maybe we need to not work the same cases anymore." She reached out to stroke Andrea's hip.
Andrea took that as an invitation to ease back, too, and propped herself up on her elbow so she could face Sharon. “Don’t you know by now that if I disagree with you on something--anything-- that I have no problem letting you know?”
“Yeah,” Sharon admitted. “I suppose.”
“The day that I’m not able to be objective in how we deal with criminals, whether in your office or mine, is the day that I’ll call this--” she gestured between them “-- a conflict of interest.” She leaned in and placed a kiss to the corner of Sharon’s mouth. “But today is not that day.”
Sharon rolled closer toward Andrea and buried her face in the crook of Andrea’s neck. “You’ve convinced me, counselor,” she said before trailing her tongue over the space beneath her ear.
“Uh-uh,” Andrea chided when Sharon’s hand moved to cover her breast. “Later, certainly. But we’ve got carbonara to eat first.”
Sharon sat up, delighted, all thoughts of pawing at her lover pushed aside for the moment. “You made my favorite?” she sighed. “You evil, evil woman.”
Standing up, Andrea reached out a hand to help Sharon from the bed as well, and led her into the kitchen, where a still-steaming platter of creamy white pasta and a bowl of dark leafy greens sat between two place settings.
“You see,” Andrea said, pulling out Sharon’s chair for her, “I knew we’d need our energy for the making up we still have to do.”
“Oh, honey,” Sharon said. “We already have.” She reached over and served Andrea some of the pasta before placing a heaping serving on her own plate. She twirled some fettuccine around her fork, and somehow smirked as she slurped up the noodles. “That’s not to say I won’t still let you try.”