(no subject)
Title: Tobacco Road 6/?
Spoilers: Heavy for Red Tape
Rating: T
Pairing: Brenda/OFC, Brenda/Sharon
Summary: As the investigation into Gabriel's shooting continues, Brenda worries about her relationship with Sharon Raydor.
I often think about that summer
The sweat, the moonlight, and the lace
And I have rarely held another
When I haven’t seen her face
And every time I pass a wheat field
And watch it dancing with the wind
Although I know it isn’t real
I just can’t help but feel
Her hungry arms again
-“That Summer,” Garth Brooks
····
“Chief Johnson, wait.”
Brenda spun around, finding herself face-to-face with the Captain, who seemed much more in control of herself than she had just a few minutes before. She looks as tired as I feel, Brenda thought, watching those clear green eyes, so sincere as the woman continued to speak.
“I just wanted to say that I understand the urge to protect the people you work with, and I respect it. But I’m obligated to investigate this shooting as if it were a criminal act, and I would ask that you do nothing to jeopardize the success of my inquiry. That’s all.”
It was hard to focus on the actual words she said, and not the way she said them. Brenda was exhausted, her cat was probably dying, Gabriel had shot someone, and she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything but the way Raydor’s lips carefully articulated each word, the way her low, husky voice conveyed her devotion to the job. How strange, that this woman who had so quickly become an enemy, should also be on of the most enticing people Brenda had ever met.
And oh yes, they were enemies now. After that little spat in the office, there could be no doubt that the two of them had very different ideas about how this investigation was going to be run, and Brenda would not let anything stand in the way of her clearing Gabriel’s name. It was a shame, really; in another world, they might have been friends. The thought had crossed her mind as she watched the Captain walk away the night before.
Now, however, it seemed almost laughable. Brenda had tried so hard to convince Will, had been so certain that if nothing else she’d be able to get Pope on her side, but at the end of the meeting all he’d given her was a “play nice with the other children” lecture and sent her on her way. Raydor’s righteous anger and her 72-hour deadline had roped him in much more effectively than Brenda’s batting eyelashes.
And now, this little sermon on how Raydor needed Brenda’s cooperation. Damn her.
“You stay out of my way, Captain, and I’ll stay out of yours.” The words were out before she could stop them, and for the briefest of moments she fancied she saw a flash of sadness cross the Captain’s features. Wasn’t that what Raydor was asking for? What had the woman actually expected from her?
“Well, I tried,” Raydor said, sounding genuinely disappointed as she brushed past them and made her way down the hallway. Brenda forced herself to look Taylor in the eye, to ignore the swing of Raydor’s hips and the nagging voice in the back of her mind that said she had not handled that confrontation well.
···
Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying, she told herself, her heart sinking even further in her chest when Taylor intercepted her and informed her that Pope and Raydor were in her office. She wanted a piece of chocolate, she wanted to hold Kitty, and she wanted to never see Sharon Raydor again. These days she didn’t seem to be getting any of the things she wanted.
She was grateful when Gabriel distracted her for a moment, giving her the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and pull herself together before she faced the unwelcome visitors inside her office. The last thing she needed was for them to see her falling apart.
When Brenda opened the door it was to find Pope standing awkwardly by the wall, and Raydor perched in one of the chairs, her long legs folded neatly and a pen twisting between her fingers. Damn her, Brenda thought as she crossed the room, heading for her desk, trying not to look at Raydor. Even the woman’s hands were distracting. She listened as Raydor continued to speak, feeling the anger rising in her the longer this continued. Why was no one on her side? Why did no one else trust Sergeant Gabriel?
“I am the one with the victim,” the words exploded out of her, unable to restrain herself any longer. Damn but Raydor was infuriating, all careful explanations and smug looks over the rim of her glasses. Calling Eric a victim, when it was Gabriel whose life was on the line. “And you’re protecting the suspect from the justice system.”
Raydor’s voice was low and deadly when she spoke again, and for the briefest of moments Brenda was back in that fat man’s warehouse many years before, listening to Anna Grace. It was unnerving, really, how quickly the Captain’s voice could send Brenda’s mind reeling back through the years.
“The opposite is true here actually, Chief Johnson,” Raydor said, her eyes narrowing on the Chief, holding her in place as the older woman watched her with a raised eyebrow. That look should have irritated Brenda, or concerned her, but really, it made her want to laugh. They were so alike, couldn’t Raydor see? They each believed whole-heartedly in their cause, they were each accustomed to getting their own way, stubborn and smarter than everyone around them. Definitely smarter than Pope. Brenda wondered how much more they’d be able to accomplish if they weren’t working at cross purposes, but their current antagonism was mostly her fault, and she wasn’t about to be the first to back down.
This is going to be a long day, Brenda thought to herself.
···
It was over. Finally, after all the fear and doubt and pressure to believe otherwise, it was over, and Gabriel was cleared. He’d done nothing wrong, after all. Brenda would be lying if she said there weren’t moments when she was fairly certain he was going to lose his badge, but in the end it had all worked out.
Raydor stood stiffly off to the side while Brenda sat behind her desk. Neither woman spoke as they waited for Gabriel to arrive. Brenda could see him, just outside her office, talking to Taylor and Sanchez. Part of her wished he would hurry the hell up and end the awkward standoff in her office, and part of her wished he would take much, much longer. She wasn’t sure when she’d have the opportunity to be alone with the Captain again.
Raydor stood with her back straight, her hands clasped in front of her as though she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them. A thousand different words were on the tip of Brenda’s tongue; an apology, and accusation, an invitation, but none of them came out. They wasted away as Brenda stared at the photo of her husband on the desk and wondered why it was, exactly, that she wanted to be friends with Raydor so badly.
“I am sorry for the way this happened, Chief,” Raydor said suddenly, her voice so low that Brenda almost wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all. “It’s never easy, when a member of your own team is under investigation, and I understand your reluctance to cooperate with me.” Raydor was staring down at her very expensive shoes, avoiding Brenda’s gaze. “Although, it might have been easier if you realized that I am not your enemy.”
No, she’s not, Brenda thought, still looking straight at the picture on her desk. Raydor had apologized, had given her a way out. A way for them to move forward. She needed to speak, to parrot Raydor’s apology at the very least, but the words wouldn’t come. Her tongue stuck in her mouth and Raydor sighed, running a hand through her lush wealth of hair.
“I tried,” she murmured, and Brenda could have kicked herself, but then Gabriel was opening the door and it was too late.
The words sounded oddly formal as she explained the situation to Gabriel. She noticed that Raydor still wasn’t looking at her. When she asked the Captain if there was anything else, she hadn’t actually expected the woman to speak, but then Raydor had said yeah, there is in that same low, calm tone and Brenda found herself suddenly terrified that Raydor was going to launch into a speech about how poorly they’d all behaved during this investigation.
She didn’t.
“Sergeant Gabriel the district attorney has reviewed FID’s report and upon our recommendation is not filing charges against you. So once Behavioral Science has signed off, you are cleared for full duty.”
Gabriel was clearly struggling to keep his unpleasant feelings for the Captain at bay when he responded with a simple, “Thank you, Captain,” but then something sort of odd happened.
Brenda watched Raydor’s face carefully as the woman responded. Her answer was brief, just you’re very welcome, but there was something in her expression, in the set of her mouth and the tone of her voice that spoke of a warmth Brenda had not previously believed her capable of. Raydor really was glad that Gabriel had been cleared, that this whole mess was over; Brenda could see it written across the woman’s face. Sharon Raydor, it seemed, would never stop surprising Brenda Leigh.
···
This is ridiculous, Brenda thought to herself as she paced back and forth on Sharon Raydor’s front porch, bottle of wine clutched in her hands. Absolutely ridiculous.
The case was finally over, and although Brenda should have been relieved, she found herself plagued by a heavy feeling of guilt that did not abate until finally she snapped, grabbing the fresh bottle of Merlot off the counter and stealing out into the night without so much as a word to her husband. She had to see Raydor; she felt the need to apologize for her less than civil behavior, but she also felt the need to be close to the woman, to watch the sparks fly in the air between them until the tension became almost too much to bear. The feeling she got when Sharon Raydor was around was a high like no other, and Brenda was jonesing for a fix.
Now, however, the reality of showing up on Raydor’s doorstep at nearly 10pm on a Friday night with a bottle of wine in her hand didn’t seem like the brilliant move it had twenty minutes ago. Now it seemed like quite possibly the stupidest thing Brenda had ever done, but though she fretted on the porch, she made no move to leave.
Finally, fed up with herself and the waiting and thinking that if she had to wait there much longer she’d just open the bottle and go to town on it herself, she reached out and rang the doorbell.
“Come in!” Raydor’s voice sung out from the other side of the door, close but still muffled by the walls.
Brenda stared blankly at the door for a moment before reaching for the knob, thinking to herself that Raydor was awfully trusting for someone who’d lived in LA for any length of time at all.
The door was unlocked and Brenda pushed her way inside, immediately finding herself wrapped up in the warmth of Sharon Raydor’s home. There was music coming from somewhere, and the foyer in which Brenda now stood was painted a sunny shade of yellow, pictures of smiling people in neat wooden frames on the walls.
“Hey, baby!” Raydor’s voice called cheerily from somewhere off to Brenda’s left. “I was wondering when you were going to show up! I hope you brought the white wine, I decided to make salmon and I don’t think the red would go with it.”
Brenda flushed crimson. Evidently, whomever Raydor was expecting, it wasn’t Brenda Leigh Johnson, and the Deputy Chief felt bad for intruding. She followed the sound of Raydor’s voice, however; she’d come here for a reason, and she was going to talk to the dark-haired Captain, even if it killed her.
Brenda found the woman in the kitchen, her back turned to the doorway as she busied herself with the pots and pans on the stove in front of her, humming softly to the music. Brenda’s jaw dropped open as her eyes lighted on Raydor’s attire; the woman wore nothing but a soft pink silk negligee, the lacy hem flirting with the bottom of her ass. She wore a half-apron tied delicately around her waist to protect the expensive-looking garment as she cooked, her feet encased in sky-high black stilettos, her hair falling in mass of easy curls. She painted quite the picture.
“Baby?” Raydor said when she heard no response to her greeting, turning away from the stove and towards the doorway.
Her expression was briefly hopeful, a lovely smile painted on her face, but the Captain Raydor mask was back in place so quickly it made Brenda feel a little dizzy. The neckline of Raydor’s negligee was dangerously low, revealing the generous swell of her breasts, her hard nipples tenting the fabric and Brenda desperately tried to keep her eyes on Raydor’s face. This seemed worse, somehow, than stumbling across the Captain naked, and the level of awkward tension between them rose to an unbearable level at lightning speed.
“Chief,” Raydor said, her voice dangerously low, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, but the move only served to create a tantalizing frame for all the skin she was trying to cover up.
“C-Captain Raydor,” Brenda answered, hating the way her words stumbled out, “I’m so sorry, am I interrupting anything?”
Raydor stared at her. “Not yet,” she answered finally, turning her attention back to the food she was preparing. It smelled heavenly. “What do you need, Chief?” this last line was uttered on a small sigh, the disappointment evident in the older woman’s voice and the slight droop to her shoulders. As bad as Brenda felt for surprising her like this, she felt worse for getting the Captain’s hopes up; the woman was clearly looking forward to a visit from someone, and seeing Brenda instead of that someone appeared to have upset her.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Brenda told her, hating how foolish that sounded. Yes, she wanted to talk to the woman. She wanted to tell Raydor that she found her absolutely infuriating, that she had very nearly ruined David Gabriel’s life for no good reason, that she was a bit of bitch, and that she was the loveliest woman Brenda had ever seen in her whole life.
It was that last part that Brenda decided she should probably keep to herself since Raydor was half-naked in her kitchen and waiting for someone she called baby.
“Do you think you could talk quickly, Chief?” Raydor asked, and even though Brenda couldn’t see her it seemed that she could feel the edges of the woman’s mouth quirk up in that sideways little smile she sometimes wore when she thought no one was looking.
Brenda stared at her back, trying to keep her eyes focused on the smooth skin of her shoulders and away from her ass, swaying tantalizingly as the woman shifted from one foot to the other. What was she supposed to say now? The words she had been rehearsing in the car on the way over here drifted away from her mind, all conscious thought replaced with the vision of Sharon Raydor before her and the faint smell of tobacco that Brenda was almost certain she was only imagining.
“I wanted to apologize,” she finally managed, but before she could say any more, the trilling of Raydor’s cell phone interrupted her.
The Captain sighed.
“Do you think you could keep an eye on the vegetables while I answer that?” Raydor asked, turning slightly to catch Brenda’s eye. The Chief just nodded in reply, an answer that earned her a sunny smile. “When they’re done, just take them off the heat. Don’t let them turn brown. I’ll just be a moment.”
And then she was walking away, almost dancing towards her phone on the kitchen table. Brenda took up her post in front of the stove, staring warily down at the vegetables sautéing in the pan and prodding at them with a spoon she found resting on the edge of the stove.
“Hello?” she heard Raydor say, and then more warmly, “Hey.” She was quiet for a moment as she listened, and then, “Wait, what? I already made dinner.”
Oh dear, Brenda thought. She recognized that tone of voice well. She’d heard it from Fritz on many, many previous occasions.
“I realize it’s your birthday, that’s why I made you-“ the person on the other line had apparently cut her off, and Raydor sighed in frustration. And then, “You know what? You do whatever you want, but if you decide you’d rather go out and get drunk instead of coming here, then we’re through.”
Brenda chewed on her bottom lip, wishing she weren’t present for this conversation, and yet there was a little voice in the back of her mind that seemed to be rejoicing in the Captain’s words. If the Captain were a free agent, not tied down to someone else, then maybe, just maybe…
No, Brenda thought forcefully, jabbing at the brightly colored peppers and carrots and snap peas and she didn’t know what all else in the pan, No. Raydor is just Raydor, and this is not going anywhere.
“Fuck you, too,” she heard Raydor snap, and then there was silence. She had evidently hung up the phone. Brenda wished the radio were a little louder; there was nothing to cover up the fury she felt rolling off of Sharon in dark waves.
“Chief,” the woman said suddenly, “Do you mind if I open this bottle of wine?”
“Go right ahead,” Brenda said with a sweeping gesture towards the bottle she’d left on the kitchen table. She noticed the vegetables starting to turn color, and quickly switched off the heat underneath them. She was proud of herself, actually, for not burning them, but her pride gave way to a sense of uncomfortable uncertainty. She had nothing to do now, and Raydor was fuming and pouring herself a vey large glass of wine.
Brenda turned around just in time to watch Raydor down half the glass in a single gulp, her eyes closed and her expression set in a sort of grimace. When Raydor opened her eyes they immediately found Brenda Leigh, settling on her with a sad kind of bemusement.
The Chief didn’t know what to say. Raydor didn’t really seem to, either. She turned slightly, pulling another wine glass down from the rack behind her and offered it to Brenda. The blonde’s feet carried her forward without another thought, taking the glass from Sharon’s hand, careful not to let their fingers touch. Sharon refused to move, so Brenda stood right beside her as she poured the Merlot into her own glass.
“Chief,” Sharon said suddenly, and Brenda braced herself, waiting for the Captain to send her on her way. “I’m going to put on my robe, but after that, since you want to talk, and I have all this food, why don’t you stay and eat with me?” The words came out quickly, as if Raydor was afraid they might hurt.
Brown eyes meet green as Brenda stared at her, the shrill sound of a timer beeping calling an end to the salmon cooking, but also, it seemed, to something else.
Brenda simply nodded.
····
The food was absolutely wonderful, and the wine was better; Brenda smiled faintly as she watched Sharon sitting across the table, fingers absently toying with the sash of her white robe. They’d polished off the entire bottle of wine and were working on a second one Sharon had pulled out from somewhere, and the pleasant buzzed feeling had made them both chattier than normal.
“So, you wanna tell me who all this was for?” Brenda asked, waving a hand towards the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and Sharon sighed.
“I’m seeing- I was seeing,” she corrected quickly, “This woman, and I wanted to do something special for her birthday.”
Brenda’s mind flitted back to that first image of Sharon, in nothing but the negligee and heels, and she decided that this woman, whoever she was, was a complete moron. Who could possibly stay away from a vision like that, especially when Sharon had gone to so much trouble to make a lovely dinner after what Brenda knew had been a terrible couple of days?
“Why isn’t she eating dinner with you then?” Brenda asked pointedly. She couldn’t really identify where all this morbid curiosity was coming from; it was just there, the way it always was. Brenda always wanted to know the answers.
“She thinks I’m boring,” Sharon said quietly, staring into her wine.
Boring? Definitely not a word Brenda would use to describe Sharon Raydor.
“Because I don’t like to go to the movies,” Sharon explained, “or go dancing. I like to dance, don’t get me wrong, but she always wanted to go to these clubs and they’re so loud, and the music’s terrible, and there’s all these twenty-something kids there, and I always think, do your mothers have any idea what you’re doing right now?” Sharon sighed. “I work hard, and I like to come home and relax and have a nice meal and she thinks I’m boring.”
Brenda fought the urge to reach out and take Sharon’s hand. She was drunk, but she wasn’t that drunk. She settled instead for murmuring, “I know what you mean,” and taking another long sip of the wine.
The Captain was staring at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You know, Chief, you didn’t seem all that surprised when I told you I was seeing a woman.”
It was a statement, but a question, too, and it hung in the air between them. Brenda turned her answer over and over in her mind, trying to find a way to say what she really thought without sounding like an idiot. She hadn’t spent any time actively wondering whether Sharon preferred men or women, but when the words had come out of Sharon’s mouth it was almost as if they had come in answer to another, deeper question than just, who are you seeing. It was almost as if the realization that Sharon was, in fact, interested in women had proven to Brenda that maybe, just maybe, she had a chance with the Captain. A chance for what, she wasn’t sure, but something.
“I knew this woman,” she said, the words spilling out of her before she could stop them, spurred on by too much wine and the need to tell Sharon what she’d been thinking since the very first day they met, “Her name was Anna Grace. When I saw you for the first time, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. You reminded me so much of her.”
Sharon was watching her carefully over the rim of her glass, and Brenda struggled to get the words right.
“Not just the way you look, but the way you acted. It’s why I hated you so much in the beginning…”
Her voice trailed off and Sharon finished for her, “Because you loved her.”
Brenda nodded before she could stop herself, and Sharon just smiled sadly.
“Chief,” she said before Brenda could finishing talking, “Would you mind terribly if we took this outside? I’d really like a smoke just now.”
Brenda stared up at Sharon, who had risen to her feet, her mind thrown back to that night on Anna’s front porch and the smell of cigarette smoke too close to her face as her world came crashing down around her ears. She nodded dumbly and rose, following Sharon towards the patio beyond the kitchen. The Captain stopped for just a moment by the door, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a basket mounted on the wall there before they continued. Outside there were two heavy wooden chairs sitting on either side of a low table, facing out into the small yard beyond, and Brenda could smell the brightly colored flowers growing nearby, their pleasant scent floating on the breeze. Sharon sat down and gestured for Brenda to do the same before lighting up the cigarette, smoke wafting gently around her face and giving her an almost heavenly glow.
The Chief felt the need to continue what she’d started in the kitchen, to explain the realization she’d come to just as they were wrapping up their investigation. It had hit her all at once one night as she lay awake, tossing and turning beside her peacefully sleeping husband. Now that she understood, she had to share it.
“I said you reminded me of Anna when we first met, and that’s true,” she said, staring off into the darkness of the yard beyond because that seemed easier than looking Sharon in the eye, “But now that I know you better, I know you’re nothing like her.”
Sharon was watching her out of the corner of her eye, but she said nothing. “You’re braver than she was, Sharon, and you’re stronger. You don’t run away from the hard things. You’ve done so well for yourself, you know who you are…” her voice trailed off, unsure of whether or not Sharon was even listening, unsure of whether she should continue or just keep her mouth shut for the rest of her life.
But then Sharon was reaching out, a gentle hand finding Brenda’s in the darkness, their fingers twining together. Sharon gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but she didn’t let go.
Brenda held on for dear life.
“I used to think,” she said quietly, “That it was just Anna. It was just a one-time thing, and there was no reason to tell my parents or my friends, and when the quarterback of the football team asked me to prom I had no good reason to say no. But Sharon, I have never in my life wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her, until I met you.”
She hadn’t meant to say those words, and she regretted them the moment they left her lips. She could feel the ring on her finger, suddenly heavy as an anchor. Was that really how she felt?
Brenda chanced a sideways glance at Sharon, her regal profile, the smoke wafting around her face, her fingers still entwined with Brenda’s. She thought about the last few days, about their heated discussions, about the admiration she had developed for the other woman. It had been grudging at first, a simple admission that yes, Sharon was good at her job, and yes, more often than not, Sharon was right. She remembered Sharon’s heated outburst that morning in Pope’s office, right after they met; the passionate display was vastly different from Sharon’s usual icy calm, but it spoke of a greater depth, of a heart that felt more deeply. Brenda remembered earlier in the week, when they’d faced off in her office. She had seen the hurt in Sharon’s eyes, but also the conviction. Sharon did what she needed to in order to support her fellow officers. They may vilify her, but that was fine by Sharon so long as she was able to protect them.
And God but she was gorgeous, and Brenda had wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to taste her lips, to hear her moan, had wondered what it would look like when Sharon came undone, how it would be if she was the one allowed to touch the goddess sitting next to her.
She did want her, and the thought consumed her now as she sat quietly, waiting for the other woman to speak.
Sharon’s response was no more than a sigh. “I think you should go home, Brenda Leigh,” she said, her voice barely audible. She gave Brenda’s hand another squeeze, and then pulled away.
Spoilers: Heavy for Red Tape
Rating: T
Pairing: Brenda/OFC, Brenda/Sharon
Summary: As the investigation into Gabriel's shooting continues, Brenda worries about her relationship with Sharon Raydor.
I often think about that summer
The sweat, the moonlight, and the lace
And I have rarely held another
When I haven’t seen her face
And every time I pass a wheat field
And watch it dancing with the wind
Although I know it isn’t real
I just can’t help but feel
Her hungry arms again
-“That Summer,” Garth Brooks
····
“Chief Johnson, wait.”
Brenda spun around, finding herself face-to-face with the Captain, who seemed much more in control of herself than she had just a few minutes before. She looks as tired as I feel, Brenda thought, watching those clear green eyes, so sincere as the woman continued to speak.
“I just wanted to say that I understand the urge to protect the people you work with, and I respect it. But I’m obligated to investigate this shooting as if it were a criminal act, and I would ask that you do nothing to jeopardize the success of my inquiry. That’s all.”
It was hard to focus on the actual words she said, and not the way she said them. Brenda was exhausted, her cat was probably dying, Gabriel had shot someone, and she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything but the way Raydor’s lips carefully articulated each word, the way her low, husky voice conveyed her devotion to the job. How strange, that this woman who had so quickly become an enemy, should also be on of the most enticing people Brenda had ever met.
And oh yes, they were enemies now. After that little spat in the office, there could be no doubt that the two of them had very different ideas about how this investigation was going to be run, and Brenda would not let anything stand in the way of her clearing Gabriel’s name. It was a shame, really; in another world, they might have been friends. The thought had crossed her mind as she watched the Captain walk away the night before.
Now, however, it seemed almost laughable. Brenda had tried so hard to convince Will, had been so certain that if nothing else she’d be able to get Pope on her side, but at the end of the meeting all he’d given her was a “play nice with the other children” lecture and sent her on her way. Raydor’s righteous anger and her 72-hour deadline had roped him in much more effectively than Brenda’s batting eyelashes.
And now, this little sermon on how Raydor needed Brenda’s cooperation. Damn her.
“You stay out of my way, Captain, and I’ll stay out of yours.” The words were out before she could stop them, and for the briefest of moments she fancied she saw a flash of sadness cross the Captain’s features. Wasn’t that what Raydor was asking for? What had the woman actually expected from her?
“Well, I tried,” Raydor said, sounding genuinely disappointed as she brushed past them and made her way down the hallway. Brenda forced herself to look Taylor in the eye, to ignore the swing of Raydor’s hips and the nagging voice in the back of her mind that said she had not handled that confrontation well.
···
Stop crying, stop crying, stop crying, she told herself, her heart sinking even further in her chest when Taylor intercepted her and informed her that Pope and Raydor were in her office. She wanted a piece of chocolate, she wanted to hold Kitty, and she wanted to never see Sharon Raydor again. These days she didn’t seem to be getting any of the things she wanted.
She was grateful when Gabriel distracted her for a moment, giving her the opportunity to take a few deep breaths and pull herself together before she faced the unwelcome visitors inside her office. The last thing she needed was for them to see her falling apart.
When Brenda opened the door it was to find Pope standing awkwardly by the wall, and Raydor perched in one of the chairs, her long legs folded neatly and a pen twisting between her fingers. Damn her, Brenda thought as she crossed the room, heading for her desk, trying not to look at Raydor. Even the woman’s hands were distracting. She listened as Raydor continued to speak, feeling the anger rising in her the longer this continued. Why was no one on her side? Why did no one else trust Sergeant Gabriel?
“I am the one with the victim,” the words exploded out of her, unable to restrain herself any longer. Damn but Raydor was infuriating, all careful explanations and smug looks over the rim of her glasses. Calling Eric a victim, when it was Gabriel whose life was on the line. “And you’re protecting the suspect from the justice system.”
Raydor’s voice was low and deadly when she spoke again, and for the briefest of moments Brenda was back in that fat man’s warehouse many years before, listening to Anna Grace. It was unnerving, really, how quickly the Captain’s voice could send Brenda’s mind reeling back through the years.
“The opposite is true here actually, Chief Johnson,” Raydor said, her eyes narrowing on the Chief, holding her in place as the older woman watched her with a raised eyebrow. That look should have irritated Brenda, or concerned her, but really, it made her want to laugh. They were so alike, couldn’t Raydor see? They each believed whole-heartedly in their cause, they were each accustomed to getting their own way, stubborn and smarter than everyone around them. Definitely smarter than Pope. Brenda wondered how much more they’d be able to accomplish if they weren’t working at cross purposes, but their current antagonism was mostly her fault, and she wasn’t about to be the first to back down.
This is going to be a long day, Brenda thought to herself.
···
It was over. Finally, after all the fear and doubt and pressure to believe otherwise, it was over, and Gabriel was cleared. He’d done nothing wrong, after all. Brenda would be lying if she said there weren’t moments when she was fairly certain he was going to lose his badge, but in the end it had all worked out.
Raydor stood stiffly off to the side while Brenda sat behind her desk. Neither woman spoke as they waited for Gabriel to arrive. Brenda could see him, just outside her office, talking to Taylor and Sanchez. Part of her wished he would hurry the hell up and end the awkward standoff in her office, and part of her wished he would take much, much longer. She wasn’t sure when she’d have the opportunity to be alone with the Captain again.
Raydor stood with her back straight, her hands clasped in front of her as though she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with them. A thousand different words were on the tip of Brenda’s tongue; an apology, and accusation, an invitation, but none of them came out. They wasted away as Brenda stared at the photo of her husband on the desk and wondered why it was, exactly, that she wanted to be friends with Raydor so badly.
“I am sorry for the way this happened, Chief,” Raydor said suddenly, her voice so low that Brenda almost wasn’t sure she’d spoken at all. “It’s never easy, when a member of your own team is under investigation, and I understand your reluctance to cooperate with me.” Raydor was staring down at her very expensive shoes, avoiding Brenda’s gaze. “Although, it might have been easier if you realized that I am not your enemy.”
No, she’s not, Brenda thought, still looking straight at the picture on her desk. Raydor had apologized, had given her a way out. A way for them to move forward. She needed to speak, to parrot Raydor’s apology at the very least, but the words wouldn’t come. Her tongue stuck in her mouth and Raydor sighed, running a hand through her lush wealth of hair.
“I tried,” she murmured, and Brenda could have kicked herself, but then Gabriel was opening the door and it was too late.
The words sounded oddly formal as she explained the situation to Gabriel. She noticed that Raydor still wasn’t looking at her. When she asked the Captain if there was anything else, she hadn’t actually expected the woman to speak, but then Raydor had said yeah, there is in that same low, calm tone and Brenda found herself suddenly terrified that Raydor was going to launch into a speech about how poorly they’d all behaved during this investigation.
She didn’t.
“Sergeant Gabriel the district attorney has reviewed FID’s report and upon our recommendation is not filing charges against you. So once Behavioral Science has signed off, you are cleared for full duty.”
Gabriel was clearly struggling to keep his unpleasant feelings for the Captain at bay when he responded with a simple, “Thank you, Captain,” but then something sort of odd happened.
Brenda watched Raydor’s face carefully as the woman responded. Her answer was brief, just you’re very welcome, but there was something in her expression, in the set of her mouth and the tone of her voice that spoke of a warmth Brenda had not previously believed her capable of. Raydor really was glad that Gabriel had been cleared, that this whole mess was over; Brenda could see it written across the woman’s face. Sharon Raydor, it seemed, would never stop surprising Brenda Leigh.
···
This is ridiculous, Brenda thought to herself as she paced back and forth on Sharon Raydor’s front porch, bottle of wine clutched in her hands. Absolutely ridiculous.
The case was finally over, and although Brenda should have been relieved, she found herself plagued by a heavy feeling of guilt that did not abate until finally she snapped, grabbing the fresh bottle of Merlot off the counter and stealing out into the night without so much as a word to her husband. She had to see Raydor; she felt the need to apologize for her less than civil behavior, but she also felt the need to be close to the woman, to watch the sparks fly in the air between them until the tension became almost too much to bear. The feeling she got when Sharon Raydor was around was a high like no other, and Brenda was jonesing for a fix.
Now, however, the reality of showing up on Raydor’s doorstep at nearly 10pm on a Friday night with a bottle of wine in her hand didn’t seem like the brilliant move it had twenty minutes ago. Now it seemed like quite possibly the stupidest thing Brenda had ever done, but though she fretted on the porch, she made no move to leave.
Finally, fed up with herself and the waiting and thinking that if she had to wait there much longer she’d just open the bottle and go to town on it herself, she reached out and rang the doorbell.
“Come in!” Raydor’s voice sung out from the other side of the door, close but still muffled by the walls.
Brenda stared blankly at the door for a moment before reaching for the knob, thinking to herself that Raydor was awfully trusting for someone who’d lived in LA for any length of time at all.
The door was unlocked and Brenda pushed her way inside, immediately finding herself wrapped up in the warmth of Sharon Raydor’s home. There was music coming from somewhere, and the foyer in which Brenda now stood was painted a sunny shade of yellow, pictures of smiling people in neat wooden frames on the walls.
“Hey, baby!” Raydor’s voice called cheerily from somewhere off to Brenda’s left. “I was wondering when you were going to show up! I hope you brought the white wine, I decided to make salmon and I don’t think the red would go with it.”
Brenda flushed crimson. Evidently, whomever Raydor was expecting, it wasn’t Brenda Leigh Johnson, and the Deputy Chief felt bad for intruding. She followed the sound of Raydor’s voice, however; she’d come here for a reason, and she was going to talk to the dark-haired Captain, even if it killed her.
Brenda found the woman in the kitchen, her back turned to the doorway as she busied herself with the pots and pans on the stove in front of her, humming softly to the music. Brenda’s jaw dropped open as her eyes lighted on Raydor’s attire; the woman wore nothing but a soft pink silk negligee, the lacy hem flirting with the bottom of her ass. She wore a half-apron tied delicately around her waist to protect the expensive-looking garment as she cooked, her feet encased in sky-high black stilettos, her hair falling in mass of easy curls. She painted quite the picture.
“Baby?” Raydor said when she heard no response to her greeting, turning away from the stove and towards the doorway.
Her expression was briefly hopeful, a lovely smile painted on her face, but the Captain Raydor mask was back in place so quickly it made Brenda feel a little dizzy. The neckline of Raydor’s negligee was dangerously low, revealing the generous swell of her breasts, her hard nipples tenting the fabric and Brenda desperately tried to keep her eyes on Raydor’s face. This seemed worse, somehow, than stumbling across the Captain naked, and the level of awkward tension between them rose to an unbearable level at lightning speed.
“Chief,” Raydor said, her voice dangerously low, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, but the move only served to create a tantalizing frame for all the skin she was trying to cover up.
“C-Captain Raydor,” Brenda answered, hating the way her words stumbled out, “I’m so sorry, am I interrupting anything?”
Raydor stared at her. “Not yet,” she answered finally, turning her attention back to the food she was preparing. It smelled heavenly. “What do you need, Chief?” this last line was uttered on a small sigh, the disappointment evident in the older woman’s voice and the slight droop to her shoulders. As bad as Brenda felt for surprising her like this, she felt worse for getting the Captain’s hopes up; the woman was clearly looking forward to a visit from someone, and seeing Brenda instead of that someone appeared to have upset her.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Brenda told her, hating how foolish that sounded. Yes, she wanted to talk to the woman. She wanted to tell Raydor that she found her absolutely infuriating, that she had very nearly ruined David Gabriel’s life for no good reason, that she was a bit of bitch, and that she was the loveliest woman Brenda had ever seen in her whole life.
It was that last part that Brenda decided she should probably keep to herself since Raydor was half-naked in her kitchen and waiting for someone she called baby.
“Do you think you could talk quickly, Chief?” Raydor asked, and even though Brenda couldn’t see her it seemed that she could feel the edges of the woman’s mouth quirk up in that sideways little smile she sometimes wore when she thought no one was looking.
Brenda stared at her back, trying to keep her eyes focused on the smooth skin of her shoulders and away from her ass, swaying tantalizingly as the woman shifted from one foot to the other. What was she supposed to say now? The words she had been rehearsing in the car on the way over here drifted away from her mind, all conscious thought replaced with the vision of Sharon Raydor before her and the faint smell of tobacco that Brenda was almost certain she was only imagining.
“I wanted to apologize,” she finally managed, but before she could say any more, the trilling of Raydor’s cell phone interrupted her.
The Captain sighed.
“Do you think you could keep an eye on the vegetables while I answer that?” Raydor asked, turning slightly to catch Brenda’s eye. The Chief just nodded in reply, an answer that earned her a sunny smile. “When they’re done, just take them off the heat. Don’t let them turn brown. I’ll just be a moment.”
And then she was walking away, almost dancing towards her phone on the kitchen table. Brenda took up her post in front of the stove, staring warily down at the vegetables sautéing in the pan and prodding at them with a spoon she found resting on the edge of the stove.
“Hello?” she heard Raydor say, and then more warmly, “Hey.” She was quiet for a moment as she listened, and then, “Wait, what? I already made dinner.”
Oh dear, Brenda thought. She recognized that tone of voice well. She’d heard it from Fritz on many, many previous occasions.
“I realize it’s your birthday, that’s why I made you-“ the person on the other line had apparently cut her off, and Raydor sighed in frustration. And then, “You know what? You do whatever you want, but if you decide you’d rather go out and get drunk instead of coming here, then we’re through.”
Brenda chewed on her bottom lip, wishing she weren’t present for this conversation, and yet there was a little voice in the back of her mind that seemed to be rejoicing in the Captain’s words. If the Captain were a free agent, not tied down to someone else, then maybe, just maybe…
No, Brenda thought forcefully, jabbing at the brightly colored peppers and carrots and snap peas and she didn’t know what all else in the pan, No. Raydor is just Raydor, and this is not going anywhere.
“Fuck you, too,” she heard Raydor snap, and then there was silence. She had evidently hung up the phone. Brenda wished the radio were a little louder; there was nothing to cover up the fury she felt rolling off of Sharon in dark waves.
“Chief,” the woman said suddenly, “Do you mind if I open this bottle of wine?”
“Go right ahead,” Brenda said with a sweeping gesture towards the bottle she’d left on the kitchen table. She noticed the vegetables starting to turn color, and quickly switched off the heat underneath them. She was proud of herself, actually, for not burning them, but her pride gave way to a sense of uncomfortable uncertainty. She had nothing to do now, and Raydor was fuming and pouring herself a vey large glass of wine.
Brenda turned around just in time to watch Raydor down half the glass in a single gulp, her eyes closed and her expression set in a sort of grimace. When Raydor opened her eyes they immediately found Brenda Leigh, settling on her with a sad kind of bemusement.
The Chief didn’t know what to say. Raydor didn’t really seem to, either. She turned slightly, pulling another wine glass down from the rack behind her and offered it to Brenda. The blonde’s feet carried her forward without another thought, taking the glass from Sharon’s hand, careful not to let their fingers touch. Sharon refused to move, so Brenda stood right beside her as she poured the Merlot into her own glass.
“Chief,” Sharon said suddenly, and Brenda braced herself, waiting for the Captain to send her on her way. “I’m going to put on my robe, but after that, since you want to talk, and I have all this food, why don’t you stay and eat with me?” The words came out quickly, as if Raydor was afraid they might hurt.
Brown eyes meet green as Brenda stared at her, the shrill sound of a timer beeping calling an end to the salmon cooking, but also, it seemed, to something else.
Brenda simply nodded.
····
The food was absolutely wonderful, and the wine was better; Brenda smiled faintly as she watched Sharon sitting across the table, fingers absently toying with the sash of her white robe. They’d polished off the entire bottle of wine and were working on a second one Sharon had pulled out from somewhere, and the pleasant buzzed feeling had made them both chattier than normal.
“So, you wanna tell me who all this was for?” Brenda asked, waving a hand towards the dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and Sharon sighed.
“I’m seeing- I was seeing,” she corrected quickly, “This woman, and I wanted to do something special for her birthday.”
Brenda’s mind flitted back to that first image of Sharon, in nothing but the negligee and heels, and she decided that this woman, whoever she was, was a complete moron. Who could possibly stay away from a vision like that, especially when Sharon had gone to so much trouble to make a lovely dinner after what Brenda knew had been a terrible couple of days?
“Why isn’t she eating dinner with you then?” Brenda asked pointedly. She couldn’t really identify where all this morbid curiosity was coming from; it was just there, the way it always was. Brenda always wanted to know the answers.
“She thinks I’m boring,” Sharon said quietly, staring into her wine.
Boring? Definitely not a word Brenda would use to describe Sharon Raydor.
“Because I don’t like to go to the movies,” Sharon explained, “or go dancing. I like to dance, don’t get me wrong, but she always wanted to go to these clubs and they’re so loud, and the music’s terrible, and there’s all these twenty-something kids there, and I always think, do your mothers have any idea what you’re doing right now?” Sharon sighed. “I work hard, and I like to come home and relax and have a nice meal and she thinks I’m boring.”
Brenda fought the urge to reach out and take Sharon’s hand. She was drunk, but she wasn’t that drunk. She settled instead for murmuring, “I know what you mean,” and taking another long sip of the wine.
The Captain was staring at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You know, Chief, you didn’t seem all that surprised when I told you I was seeing a woman.”
It was a statement, but a question, too, and it hung in the air between them. Brenda turned her answer over and over in her mind, trying to find a way to say what she really thought without sounding like an idiot. She hadn’t spent any time actively wondering whether Sharon preferred men or women, but when the words had come out of Sharon’s mouth it was almost as if they had come in answer to another, deeper question than just, who are you seeing. It was almost as if the realization that Sharon was, in fact, interested in women had proven to Brenda that maybe, just maybe, she had a chance with the Captain. A chance for what, she wasn’t sure, but something.
“I knew this woman,” she said, the words spilling out of her before she could stop them, spurred on by too much wine and the need to tell Sharon what she’d been thinking since the very first day they met, “Her name was Anna Grace. When I saw you for the first time, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. You reminded me so much of her.”
Sharon was watching her carefully over the rim of her glass, and Brenda struggled to get the words right.
“Not just the way you look, but the way you acted. It’s why I hated you so much in the beginning…”
Her voice trailed off and Sharon finished for her, “Because you loved her.”
Brenda nodded before she could stop herself, and Sharon just smiled sadly.
“Chief,” she said before Brenda could finishing talking, “Would you mind terribly if we took this outside? I’d really like a smoke just now.”
Brenda stared up at Sharon, who had risen to her feet, her mind thrown back to that night on Anna’s front porch and the smell of cigarette smoke too close to her face as her world came crashing down around her ears. She nodded dumbly and rose, following Sharon towards the patio beyond the kitchen. The Captain stopped for just a moment by the door, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a basket mounted on the wall there before they continued. Outside there were two heavy wooden chairs sitting on either side of a low table, facing out into the small yard beyond, and Brenda could smell the brightly colored flowers growing nearby, their pleasant scent floating on the breeze. Sharon sat down and gestured for Brenda to do the same before lighting up the cigarette, smoke wafting gently around her face and giving her an almost heavenly glow.
The Chief felt the need to continue what she’d started in the kitchen, to explain the realization she’d come to just as they were wrapping up their investigation. It had hit her all at once one night as she lay awake, tossing and turning beside her peacefully sleeping husband. Now that she understood, she had to share it.
“I said you reminded me of Anna when we first met, and that’s true,” she said, staring off into the darkness of the yard beyond because that seemed easier than looking Sharon in the eye, “But now that I know you better, I know you’re nothing like her.”
Sharon was watching her out of the corner of her eye, but she said nothing. “You’re braver than she was, Sharon, and you’re stronger. You don’t run away from the hard things. You’ve done so well for yourself, you know who you are…” her voice trailed off, unsure of whether or not Sharon was even listening, unsure of whether she should continue or just keep her mouth shut for the rest of her life.
But then Sharon was reaching out, a gentle hand finding Brenda’s in the darkness, their fingers twining together. Sharon gave her hand a gentle squeeze, but she didn’t let go.
Brenda held on for dear life.
“I used to think,” she said quietly, “That it was just Anna. It was just a one-time thing, and there was no reason to tell my parents or my friends, and when the quarterback of the football team asked me to prom I had no good reason to say no. But Sharon, I have never in my life wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her, until I met you.”
She hadn’t meant to say those words, and she regretted them the moment they left her lips. She could feel the ring on her finger, suddenly heavy as an anchor. Was that really how she felt?
Brenda chanced a sideways glance at Sharon, her regal profile, the smoke wafting around her face, her fingers still entwined with Brenda’s. She thought about the last few days, about their heated discussions, about the admiration she had developed for the other woman. It had been grudging at first, a simple admission that yes, Sharon was good at her job, and yes, more often than not, Sharon was right. She remembered Sharon’s heated outburst that morning in Pope’s office, right after they met; the passionate display was vastly different from Sharon’s usual icy calm, but it spoke of a greater depth, of a heart that felt more deeply. Brenda remembered earlier in the week, when they’d faced off in her office. She had seen the hurt in Sharon’s eyes, but also the conviction. Sharon did what she needed to in order to support her fellow officers. They may vilify her, but that was fine by Sharon so long as she was able to protect them.
And God but she was gorgeous, and Brenda had wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to taste her lips, to hear her moan, had wondered what it would look like when Sharon came undone, how it would be if she was the one allowed to touch the goddess sitting next to her.
She did want her, and the thought consumed her now as she sat quietly, waiting for the other woman to speak.
Sharon’s response was no more than a sigh. “I think you should go home, Brenda Leigh,” she said, her voice barely audible. She gave Brenda’s hand another squeeze, and then pulled away.