A/N: This may not be quite the ending you expected, but honestly- where else could I take this? LOL. When it gets into nothing but the day-to-day minutiae, it's time to let the characters take their bows and ring the curtain down. But I was still itching to have someone on the MC crew confront Goldman the rat fink. LOL. Hope you enjoy the finale, as anticlimactic as it may be. I think I tied up all the loose ends. If not, let me know and I'll do an epilogue. Thanks to all those who took the time to review this long thing. It started as a one-shot. Sheesh! Anyway, please R&R here, too.

Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Closer."

Chapter 23: Life, etc.

"Brenda, of all the people I see, you have to be one of the most – interesting," Phlippa said. Brenda, Andy and Provenza had gotten back from Baja without incident, to Brenda's great relief, and the realtor had paid the men each an extra $500 for the issues they had to deal with.

"He should have paid me $1,500 for putting up with those two," Brenda had told Buzz, who could always be counted on to lend a sympathetic ear.

But now, Brenda was in Philippa's office, and had explained to her that she and Joel were now living with Andy, until her new house was move-in ready. Philippa shook her head. "I advised you to keep it platonic for six months, but instead, in six months, you've moved in with him. Aren't you the one who talked about how hesitant you were to let Fritz move in, to set a wedding date, to even look for another house? And now, you've just chucked it all and moved into an apartment with a lieutenant from your squad, and bought a house where you'd like him to live with you?" She sighed. "You're a riddle wrapped in an enigma sometimes, Brenda."

"I haven't chucked it all. I put all my things in storage. I never liked that furniture anyway, so I'll be glad to buy new stuff."

"Have you ever considered this might be what's known as the geographical cure? That is, you move somewhere, thinking you'll find happiness there?" Philippa asked.

Brenda looked puzzled. "Never thought about it, but I don't think so. Honestly, Fritzie is the one who liked the house so well. Not me."

"Yet you resisted when he suggested getting a bigger place."

"We never could find one that was convenient to work. This place is."

"All right. So how's your relationship with Andy?"

Brenda smiled. "We're doing better. I read over those suggestions you gave me every single day, and they really do help me keep from picking fights with him, and to discuss issues in a healthy way. He's happy about it."

"I imagine so. Walking on eggshells isn't fun, Brenda."

"I know and I try to keep that in mind, always. And I've found that mostly, when I've wanted to get into it with Andy is when he's not doing something I want him to do. Or not the way I think it ought to be done."

Philippa grinned at Brenda. "Was this such a revelation for you?"

"In a way. I mean, I've always immediately put blame on the other person. But now I'm seeing why I do some of the things I do." She sighed. "I'm just a mess, I suppose. I can't believe Andy puts up with me."

"He loves you, and don't you ever take that for granted, Brenda. So tell me how you're working it out living together."

"Fritz used to get irritated with me because I left dirty dishes on the table, or in the den. He would just take them to the sink and tell me he wished I'd put them away."

"Do you still leave dirty dishes all over Andy's place?"

Brenda grinned ruefully. "Not nearly as often anymore."

"Why not? What does Andy say?"

"Not a word. He just piles all my dishes up on my side of the bed and they don't get moved until I move them to the sink."

"And how did that go over?"

"Not well, I admit. Not at first. It made me so mad I slept on the sofa, and he slept in the bed with those dishes on the other side. For two nights, yet. And then, I tried to make it up with him and after he went to bed, I tried to get in the bed with him. He picked me up and dumped me on the sofa. He said he'd either sleep with me or my dishes, but not both."

Philippa started laughing at this and Brenda thought she never would stop. "Oh, my, Brenda!" Philippa exclaimed. "That is wonderful! Andy really knows how to get you right where you live. See, he's very good at picking his battles. And you know he's right. You're in his house. You shouldn't do that."

"I know, but I just don't even think about it. It's not deliberate."

"I'm sure, but having to sleep on the sofa while Andy slept with the dishes got your attention, didn't it?"

"It did," Brenda admitted.

"So it was effective."

"You could say that."

"And long term? What are your plans? Have you talked about it?"

Brenda shrugged. "Not so much, not really. A little, sort of out there kind of thinking, but he hasn't asked me to marry him, if that's what you're getting at."

"Have you asked him?"

"Me? Isn't that kind of his responsibility?"

"All depends on your relationship, but I suspect Andy would rather do the asking. He may be waiting until you're in your other house, and things have settled down."

"Could be," Brenda agreed. "But Philippa, we've both got two marriages behind us, and mine with Fritz wasn't in great shape when he died. I know he's a little gun shy, and I probably am, too."

Philippa leaned back in her chair. "You know Brenda, people have lived together without being married for years. It can be done. Some people are just opposed to the idea and say 'it's just a piece of paper.' In some ways, yes, but it's also a symbol of commitment. If a couple wants to keep company for years without actually getting married, I always wonder about their level of real commitment. Will they hang in there when times are bad? It's always a consideration."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that moving in together should always be thought of as a step toward marriage, if you're doing it in that order. You should do it with an eye toward getting married fairly soon. How long did you and Fritz live together before you got married?"

"Oh, two, two and a half years? Something like that, I think."

"So he always wanted to get married, and you wanted to keep company, right?"

Brenda thought about this. "I was scared to get married. Just scared of the whole marriage – thing. Fritz was a wonderful man. I was scared I couldn't love him as much as he deserved. And I don't think I really did."

"And that bothers you?"

"A lot."

Philippa nodded. "Do you think you can love Andy as much as he deserves? With your whole heart?"

"Andy, well, he understands me in a way I don't think Fritz ever did. I always felt like I was a puzzle to Fritz. But Andy gets me. Sometimes he knows what I'm going to do before I know. He just understands me at a level Fritz never did. Because of that, maybe I trust Andy more with my whole heart."

"That's a wise observation. So you need to work at trusting Andy even more than you already do. I think he's more than earned it. And you're getting better at setting appropriate boundaries. So you're making progress, Brenda. You're in a better place now than you were when we started talking."

Brenda smiled. "Well, it's a comfort to know I'm improving, anyway."

"You are. Really. So for next time, let's talk about this whole trust thing in more detail, and I want you to work on putting Andy before your job. I know that was also an issue with you and Fritz. It doesn't need to be an issue with you and Andy, all right? I know he understands, and he's willing to allow you to do it to a certain extent, but you've got to learn to leave things in your team's hands. They know how to work a case. Let them do their jobs and stop trying to micromanage every detail. Everyone will benefit, I promise."

"I'll do it, Philippa. Or I'll do the best I can," Brenda promised.

When she got home, Andy was in his recliner and Joel was lying on his chest. Both were asleep. Joel did look up and chirrup at her, but made no move to greet her, otherwise. Much as he had been Fritzie's cat, he was obviously now Andy's cat.

Brenda looked at Andy. He was so handsome, and in sleep, his face was almost boyish. She leaned over to give him a kiss on his forehead. His eyes opened lazily. "Hey babe. Me and Joel were just taking it easy."

"You go ahead. I learned a new recipe in my cooking class and I want to try it, so I went to the grocery store for the stuff."

"What's the recipe?"

"Mushroom and shrimp risotto."

"Sounds great," he said, sleepily.

"I think it will be. So you two go ahead and snooze, and I'll take care of dinner."

"Good plan" Andy murmured, before he dozed off again.

Some while later, a delicious fragrance coming from the kitchen woke Andy up and he eased out of the recliner and went into the kitchen, where Brenda was diligently stirring a pot of risotto.

"That smells wonderful, babe," he said. "Need a hand stirring?"

Brenda answered, "Oh, would you? My arm is starting to ache. But it's nearly done!"

Andy took over the task and Brenda watched as he stirred with practiced ease. "You've done that before," she said.

"Once or twice," he answered. "Grandma had arthritis, so when she cooked risotto, she drafted one of us to stir it. The advantage was we got the first serving out of the pot." He chuckled at the memory.

"Mama really tried to teach me to cook, but I never had the patience for it," Brenda said. "I wish I'd picked up more then, but I just never did. Like I never paid any attention when Daddy was fixing a car. Wish I'd done that, too. Maybe I wouldn't be such a dunce where automobiles are concerned."

Andy grinned as he stirred. "Well, you have other talents."

"You think so, huh?" she said.

"Yeah."

"I talked to my realtor today. She said our house will definitely be ready by November first."

Andy nodded. "That's good to know. I guess I need to start packing up, then."

"Guess so. But you know, Joel and I have been very happy here." Brenda leaned her elbows on the counter.

"I'm glad. It's not a bad place for a single guy."

"No, not at all. Aren't you looking forward to having more room, though?"

"I am. You know, we haven't seen Charlie around since she stopped by before you moved out."

Brenda laughed. "We won't, either. She pledged a sorority, and all her time is taken up with that. Fortunately, as awful as it sounds."

Andy gave her a sympathetic sidelong glance and taking a spoon, tasted the risotto. "It's done. And it's delicious," he said, moving the pan off the burner. "You did a good job, hon."

"Thank you, sugar," she answered.

Andy took the salad bowl from Brenda and put his arms around her. "Babe, are you planning on this being a long-term thing?"

"What?"

"Us."

"Of course I am! Why would you ask?" Brenda was puzzled.

"Just making sure. Because, before we move into that house together, I think we need to be more than just shacked up."

"More, how?" Was he getting around to asking what she thought he was?

Andy picked up Brenda's left hand. "This kind of more," he answered, and kissed her ring finger.

"I want to Andy, but what about our jobs? Will is only tolerating us together, now. I don't know if he will countenance us being married."

"So, we go to San Diego, get married at the courthouse, have a weekend at Roselands, come back and act like nothing happened. I'll still get my mail at my post office box, so I don't even have to change my address, except with personnel."

"And not tell anyone?"

"Not a soul. Well, I guess you'll need to tell Philippa, but other than that, nobody. Not for a while, anyway."

Brenda could feel a little bubble of happiness start to expand inside her. "When?"

"Whenever."

Brenda kissed Andy softly. "Yes, Andy. Absolutely. Yes."

February 2012

It was a dreary day in Los Angeles. The temperature was unusually chilly and it had drizzled all day. The crew knew about Peter Goldman's federal case against Brenda, and the mood had been somber for several weeks. Andy had lost count of the times he had held Brenda while she sobbed in his arms after work.

He was doing paperwork, as usual, when he heard Provenza growl, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Andy looked up to see Peter Goldman standing in the murder room, briefcase in hand.

"I would appreciate it if Deputy Chief Johnson had a moment to see me," he said.

"Short answer: no," Provenza snapped. "She's in Atlanta, visiting her family." Andy had accompanied her over the weekend, but had come back early. Brenda needed the time away.

"Oh, I see. Well, I had a little proposal I wanted to talk over with her."

"You can contact her attorney and ask him. His name is Gavin Q. Baker," Provenza snarled.

"Or, if I could speak with some of you, perhaps…"

"Get out of here, Goldman," Sanchez said.

"Now, you're just being uncooperative," Goldman said. "I merely wanted to see if Chief Johnson might be amenable to talking about this situation."

"With her attorney present," Andy said, standing up.

Now this, Goldman didn't like. He could outrun Provenza. But he knew about Lieutenant Flynn and Detective Sanchez. If these men were sufficiently pissed off, either was capable of inflicting serious mayhem.

"Lieutenant Flynn, I merely wish to speak with Chief Johnson."

"Mr. Goldman, she isn't here. She's in Atlanta. Now, if you don't mind, we have jobs to do that don't include you. Time for you to leave." Andy's tone was firm, but not threatening. Somehow, that was even more chilling.

"Well, tell her that I'll be back to speak with her. I know she'll be interested in what I have to say."

"Mr. Goldman, a word of advice: do not contact my – Chief Johnson, period. Contact her attorney." Now, Andy sounded threatening.

"I have every right to speak with Chief Johnson, if I have a legitimate proposal to offer her."

Andy gave the man a look that, Goldman had to admit, made him more than a little nervous. "In the Chief's office. Now."

"Lieutenant, I really don't think…"

"Now, Goldman, or I'm having four uniforms walk you out of here the hard way."

He looked around and the stony faces of Brenda's squad told him no help was to be had. So, he shrugged and went into Brenda's office. Andy closed the door and the blinds.

Andy turned to Goldman. "All right, you dirty little worm, here's the deal. You don't talk to Chief Johnson. You don't come in this murder room. You don't call her. You don't speak to her if you see her on the street. I can and will get a restraining order on you if I have to. There's not a judge in this county who wouldn't grant one, and you know it. When you come in here, you're keeping her from conducting business in the interests of public safety."

Goldman interrupted, "The public isn't safe with that woman…" he began, and found himself against the wall of Brenda's office, with a completely pissed-off Andy Flynn standing in front of him, a hand on the wall on either side of him.

"I repeat myself. Stay away from the Chief. Unless you're speaking with her attorney, or in the courtroom, she does not exist for you! And believe me, I'll be happy to call Baker and tell him about your little visit here today. I'm sure any judge would be very interested to hear the plaintiff in a federal case is attempting to harass the defendant. Don't you think so?"

"This is not harassment, Lieutenant Flynn. But what you're doing right now is intimidation."

"Says who? I haven't threatened you. I've told you what I will do legally: I'll contact her attorney and I'll urge her to take out a restraining and no-contact order on you. You don't come back into this murder room. Period. If you need to serve papers, hire somebody. But you don't come back. Are we clear on that point?"

Goldman looked into Andy's eyes. They were cold and deadly. "Very," he croaked.

"Then get the hell out." Andy stepped away from him.

The man looked at Andy and decided leaving immediately would be an excellent idea.

Andy let Goldman get out of the room before he left Brenda's office. When he got back to his desk, he growled, "The world would be a better place if that douchebag got hit by a bus!"

"Amen," Provenza intoned.

July 2012

Brenda watched Andy knot his tie as he got ready for work.

"Did I do the right thing? Did I?"

"Gavin said you did, so you know you did, babe," he said, turning to her. "You resign, get a huge severance package, and Goldman drops the suit and agrees never to file anything on you in any court, anywhere, for any reason. And I told you that one of the universities would jump at the chance to have you as a professor. Now I don't have to worry about you. Not much trouble you can get into as a criminal justice and psychology professor at UCLA. And if you teach those kids how to be half as good at investigations as you are, then the bad guys in LA are in for a hell of a time when your students get hired. Plus, we still get to call you in as a 'consultant.' I'd say it worked out pretty well for everybody."

Brenda nodded. "I guess. At least I don't have to worry about Philip Stroh anymore." Stroh had finally attacked the wrong woman and she shot him to death.

"Nope. That dirtbag's shoveling coal in hell, right where he belongs." He went to sit next to her on the bed and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Andy, I didn't want this to happen. I love police work. You know I do. And maybe I didn't handle some of those cases strictly by the book, but those people aren't on the street anymore! Doesn't that mean anything?"

He put his cheek on the top of her head. "It means everything to the victims' families. That little rat turd Goldman can say whatever the hell he wants to. And sure, the accused have rights. But so did the victims. They had the right to live their lives without some creep coming in and shooting them, or whatever. And these wastes of space have the right to a fair trial. You didn't deny them that right. If their stupid lawyers couldn't get them a better deal because you got them to confess, that's not your fault. Brenda, you never sent an innocent person to prison. You want to know if you did the right thing, then think about that. Every single case you closed while you were with Major Crimes, closed with a guilty, with no doubt. All these people you turned over to the D.A.? Guilty as sin."

"So the end justifies the means?"

"Not necessarily. But, has a single one of those idiots been released because of bad police work, or a confession you got illegally? Nope. They held up in front of a judge and jury. So you hold your head up, too. Because of you, a lot of really bad people got what they deserved, and their victims' families got justice. Can you do any better than that? I don't think so."

Brenda looked up at her husband and sighed. "Andy, you always know just what to say to me. I think the first time I saw you, I knew I was in trouble."

Andy chuckled and held her closer. "And then you got to know me and found out how much trouble I really am."

"I'm more, that's for sure. Way more. But the first time you touched my hand, I fell right past the point of rescue. It just took me a while to figure it out. I love you so much, Andy."

He kissed her in reply.