"Officer down. Officer down. Request immediate medical assistance." She could still hear the words clearly, shouted out by Andy into his radio, but what had happened after was just a blur of images and noises. Flashes of the sirens, people running about frantically, seemingly without a real purpose and amidst it all, one perfectly still element, completely quiet, pale, bloody, clutching her stomach with Andy Flynn leaning over her, barely breathing as she lay in the backyard of a now dead young man, desperate and guilty enough to fire at the police.

It was chaos, complete and utter chaos. Brenda couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus. She had always prided herself on thinking clearly during a crisis, but when she lay eyes on the officer, a sudden panic set in that she simply couldn't get rid, as if an icy hand had wrapped its fingers around her heart and squeezed so tightly it became impossible to breathe. It was a fear that she couldn't recall having ever felt before.

Brenda watched as they lifted the injured Captain onto the stretcher, her expression one of discomfort and pain, but Brenda breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that at least the woman's eyes were still open, she was still alive, despite what appeared to be a rather destructive gunshot wound to her abdomen. She was breathing, she was alive and Brenda didn't want to leave her alone.

Snapping into action, she snatched Sharon's broken glasses from the ground and followed the stretcher into the ambulance, ignoring the looks she received from her team or the hint of surprise in Sharon's eyes when she noticed that the blonde had joined her in the ambulance. The EMT's slammed the doors shut behind her, sealing the fact that Brenda would accompany the Internal Affairs Captain to the hospital.

"Chief," Sharon managed weakly as the EMT's unceremoniously tore open her blazer and blouse before paying attention to her wound. Brenda briefly looked at the blood covering Sharon's skin, still oozing out of body at a steady pace. It looked horrible, but Brenda hoped that it merely looked horrible and wasn't anything more than a flesh wound. Biting her bottom lip she reached out and clumsily placed her hand on Sharon's leg.

"Ssh. It's gonna be fine. Don't talk," she said, giving Sharon's leg a reassuring squeeze. She was missing one of her shoes, probably still back at the scene. It was a disarming sight to see the immaculate Captain Raydor without her perfect armor. Her torn clothes, the missing stiletto, her trembling hands, the scrapes on her calf, her blood that seemed to be everywhere, it chilled Brenda's blood. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Shouldn't leave the scene. My team will have questions. You shouldn't…procedure…" Sharon's words were slurred as she started to slip out of consciousness. Brenda smiled through her fear. Even when there was a bullet stuck in her body, she still set on following the rules. Her smile quickly disappeared when Sharon started coughing, the terrifying cough that seemed to shake her entire body, that left blood on her lips.

"My children…call them please." Her words were laced with desperation and fear, causing Brenda to forget how to breathe for a moment, before Sharon's eyes closed and she lost consciousness. It had sounded like a last request, as if Sharon already knew that she wasn't going to make it. Brenda leaned back to let the EMT's do their work undisturbed, trying to calm herself, her fingers curled tightly around Sharon's glasses.

"Captain Raydor led the Force Investigation Division successfully for over a decade. She was an officer of integrity…" The Lieutenant droned on with his carefully prepared speech, but Brenda stopped listening to him. Even if he were someone that had worked closely with Sharon for a long time, he didn't sound like he actually knew her. Brenda didn't want to hear a eulogy that was purely professional. Someone like Sharon deserved more, a lot more, but official burials were not the place for emotions, save for the family.

Brenda looked at the seated civilians in the front row, Sharon's friends and family. Brenda had recognized Gavin and few other attorneys and DDA's. Sharon's children were seated in the center. Brenda had already met Sharon's son in the hospital. He had his mother's eyes, the same shade of green. Brenda thought she had spotted her daughter as well who looked exactly like her mother, but appeared to be slightly taller. Sharon's elusive somewhat ex-husband appeared to be absent.

Her gaze drifted away from Sharon's children to the coffin, covered with the flag. She had to squint against the harsh reflection of the white stripes. It was a beautiful day, warm, sunny, blue sky. Too warm to be wearing a uniform, but still beautiful, different from the day she had died. The sky had been grey and there had been stiff wind. This was better. It suited Sharon.

Brenda glanced down the line of officers, half expecting to see Sharon standing there, hair pulled back into a tight bun, back straight, black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, those same glasses that were still in her purse, the thought of removing them too painful, but she only saw blank-faced officers, staring ahead. They hadn't been in the ambulance, they hadn't felt their hearts stop when Sharon flat-lined, nor had they watch the EMT's bring her back, shocking her heart back to life for a few more hours.

They hadn't waited in the hospital while she underwent surgery. They hadn't been there when the doctor had told Richard Raydor that his mother had passed away.

Too much internal damage, too much bleeding. The bullet had torn through her organs, hit a few important arteries. She could have had the best surgeons in the country working on her and it wouldn't have made a difference. Brenda had just felt numb as the doctor droned on and gave his condolences as Sharon's son had crumbled in front of her eyes, the support from his girlfriend being the only thing that stopped from him from collapsing.

He now had his arm thrown around his sister's shoulders, holding her close as she cried into his shoulder. Brenda blinked away her own tears. She had cried in the hospital, she had cried at home when Fritz hadn't been there. She wouldn't cry here, no matter how much it physically pained her to look at Sharon's coffin, no matter how much the lack of Sharon made her feel empty inside, she couldn't break down.

"Chief, we just got a call for a double homicide. His Holiness the Pope wants us to take it," Andy said, walking into the murder room, phone in hand. Brenda looked away from the white board and frowned. Another double homicide? Was Will trying to swamp her with murders and paperwork just because he could? She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Okay, call Captain Raydor and give her the…" She faltered when she realized her mistake. Her team fell completely silent staring at her with wide eyes. Brenda could feel her heart practically beating its way out of her chest. Captain Raydor. She hadn't said her name since the funeral and just for one short moment she had forgotten that Sharon was dead. One short perfect moment. "I mean, Lieutenant Grant, call him and give him the address."

Her team answered her with a 'Yes, Chief" before they all started moving towards the exit, giving Brenda a moment to collect herself. Captain Raydor. Where had that come from? It had been two weeks since Sharon's death and now she screwed up by somehow forgetting that the woman was dead? She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes.

As much as she had cursed the Captain's constant presence in her murder room, the way that woman had looked over her shoulder as if she were some incompetent toddler, she missed her now. She missed the rhythmic clacking of Sharon's heels on the linoleum, her soft, controlled tones as she spoke, the subtle scent of her perfume that lingered even after she had sauntered away. She missed having someone who had her back and protected her from both Pope and Goldman.

Brenda hadn't needed to be protected, but now that she was lacking the Captain's support, she missed it. She missed entertaining the notion that Sharon was her friend, her only friend. Forced onto her by Will, somewhere in between the animosity and the constant difference of work ethic and opinions, they managed to bond against all odds to the point where Brenda actually felt comfortable having her around, where she missed Sharon when she was assigned to an OIS and not to Major Crimes.

Sometimes she still expected Sharon to turn up at a crime scene, shadowing her every move. Instead she was stuck with Sharon's successor. He wasn't as bad as Brenda wanted him to be, but he wasn't Sharon. He truly was a hall monitor. He didn't have her back, he didn't come into her office offering a few supporting words and a warm smile that surprised Brenda every time she saw it on Sharon's face. He was just an observer and Brenda made sure that he was.

Sharon had complained that she had been nothing but a hall monitor, but she almost always took an active part in the investigation. Which is what had gotten her killed in the end. She shouldn't have been a part of Brenda's team, advancing on a suspect with her gun drawn. Brenda knew it was ridiculous to blame herself and yet every time she thought of the fearless Captain Raydor, she felt guilty. As if she could have saved her somehow.

"Chief? You coming?" Andy asked, his voice breaking through her thoughts. Brenda looked up at him and nodded. She had to get Sharon out of her head. It was bad enough that her face plagued Brenda while she slept. She didn't want to be haunted by her during the day as well. She wouldn't be able to handle it.

She trailed her fingers over the broken glass, over the perfect starburst crack in the right glass, over the bent leg. A skilled person could probably repair the glasses, return them to their former glory, but Brenda didn't want them to be perfect again. It was a reminder like this, a reminder of someone that shouldn't have died the way she did when she did. A painful reminder that she couldn't let go off. She didn't want to. It was the only tangible thing she had of Sharon. It was precious. Maybe just a little too precious.

It had been exactly two months, three days and seventeen hours since Sharon had been shot. She had expected for the pain, the grief to lessen. She wasn't a woman who liked to linger in her those emotions. They weighed her down and she shed them generally quite easily, but she couldn't get rid of Sharon's ghost. She was with her constantly. She was haunted by her memory. Every minute she lasted without thinking about her was a victory.

She hadn't even realized how much a constant presence Sharon Raydor had been in her thoughts until the woman wasn't there anymore, but the thoughts remained, leaving her feeling empty and miserable. She just missed Sharon so much, it hurt her. She cried until she couldn't anymore, she had screamed into her pillow until she had become hoarse, she had shot at paper targets until her arms were numb and yet the loss still hurt as much as it had before, if not more.

Love.

That was what it was; love. As ridiculously idiotic as it sounded, she loved Sharon Raydor. She was in love with a dead woman, someone she had barely appreciated when she was still alive, simply blind to the fact of how much she really meant to her, burying it underneath misplaced feelings of anger and resentment, not wanting to believe what was clearly the truth. It had taken a bullet and a life for her to finally acknowledge what she felt.

She shook her head as she tightly held onto Sharon's glasses. She was married, happily so until two months ago. This whole realization was slowly ruining her and her marriage. She had to physically stop herself from pulling away whenever Fritz kissed her. She didn't want her own husband to touch her anymore. Instead she pathetically craved the touch of someone who wasn't even alive anymore. She wanted the late Sharon Raydor to kiss her every night and every morning.

She didn't know what to do. She couldn't leave her husband for someone who was dead. The mere notion was preposterous. But she couldn't stay with him either when she didn't love him anymore the way she used to, when she truly loved someone else, even if that person was dead. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes glued to the broken glasses in her hand. She could easily picture Sharon's green eyes, her somewhat haughty smirk, her power suits, her long legs as if she had only seen her yesterday.

She had to do something. But she wasn't ready yet.