Shot Fired – Chapter 3 – Political Animals

A/N: The OIG is the Office of the Inspector General, and while they nor the Police Commission may actually get involved in this situation in real life, Imma use 'em anyway. Apologies for any typos - didn't have a lot of time to edit.

"Are you trying to get me fired?"

The air in the office of the Chief of Police is thick with stress. Brenda felt it as soon as she entered the room. Now Will stands behind his desk, somewhere between seething and pouting.

A petulant, little boy with grey hair and a uniform, Brenda thinks. She'd laugh if she weren't so pissed off. Being called to his office like a schoolchild, while she's in the middle of an investigation, is far from the highlight of her day. She stays silent in her chair, arms crossed.

"I have the Board of Commissioners jumping down my throat because the OIG received a letter from one of our staff. A letter from a certain, high-ranking, female officer about a perceived issue of "disrespect" towards Captain Raydor."

"What can I say? I produced some good readin' material. Thought a few people should see it. And Inspector General Perez agreed with me. See, she understands what being a woman in the LAPD means, and how difficult it can be to deal with so many impediments to one's duty."

Will doesn't miss a beat. He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a familiar sheet of official LAPD letterhead, tossing it on the desk towards her.

"You don't have to recite it back to me, Brenda. The Commission sent your tirade to me last week. Asked me for an explanation. I didn't know a damn thing about it! The smallest professional courtesy would have been giving me a warning before you opened fire on this office!"

Brenda smirks a little and narrows her eyes at him. "You don't know a thing ab't it. So you didn't go down to FID just last year when you personally asked Captain Raydor to monitor Major Crimes? You didn't step into the very office I was talkin' about and see for yourself just how ridiculous the conditions are where she's workin'? Because I did my research, Will. I asked the entire division, not to mention your own secretary, and they all said you'd been down there. More than once. So don't stand here and tell me you had no idea."

Pope laughs like he can't believe any of this is real. "Why in God's name are you doing this?! You don't even like Raydor!"

Brenda's face turns stony. She stands from her seat and leans across Pope's desk. The movement is slow, predatorial. Her voice escapes like a growl.

"My personal feelings towards the Captain, whatever they may be, don't come close to my impatience for the contemptuous, uncivil treatment of any officer of the law. The behaviour towards FID of this department - including that of my own unit and of myself - has been inexcusable. You'll notice I told the Inspector General that too. The attitude of the LAPD needs an adjustment and this is jus' one small symptom of that."

Pope doesn't flinch. Instead, his face fills with a sort of understanding. He smirks maddeningly. "Oh, I get it. This is because of the shooting, isn't it? Feeling indebted to the Captain? Maybe she mentioned that you somehow "owe" her and this is your idea of a repayment?"

"Jesus Christ, Will! It just kills you to see me stick up f'r someone that ain't you. Or maybe it's seein' the two of us get along for once." Brenda pauses, smiles to herself. "Or maybe it's just that I pointed out that you may not be doin' your job like you're s'posed to and now yer feelin' a touch inadequate. Well all I have to say, Chief, is: you're welcome. Now you know how it feels."

Brenda shoots one last glare at his reddening face before she whips around and heads for the door. She slams it as she leaves.

She's like a whippoorwill out of hell as she bursts in and then out of the elevator at her floor, heading straight for her office. She holds up a hand to Provenza's face as he starts to update her.

"Not now, Lieutenant."

Provenza backs off immediately. "Yes ma'am."

She flies into her office, landing her back against the door as she shuts it behind her and feels about ready to scream. Instead, she notices a set of curious green eyes studying her.

"What are you doing here?" The question sounds more like an accusation than anything and Raydor shifts in the space where she is standing.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to come at a bad time. Your team said you were on your way back to your office…" She trails off and looks like she'd flee if only Brenda weren't standing guard at the door.

Brenda's shoulders drop. She takes a breath, steadies herself. "I just had the pleasure of a one-on-one meeting with our illustrious Chief." She says before stepping all the way into the office and rounding her desk. She sits in a heap.

"Ah." Raydor says. Her posture relaxes. "And I imagine he sends his warmest regards?"

Brenda scoffs. "Not quite." Brenda licks her lips, refocusing her attention on the Captain, who she notices still hasn't taken a seat across from her. "What can I help you with?"

Raydor smiles. It isn't one of her godawful, self-satisfied smirks. Or even one of her tight-lipped, forced smiles. This one is warm and genuine and Brenda is light-headed at the sight.

"You've already helped me more than I could have hoped, Chief. Really." Raydor takes a moment to breathe. She's still standing there and it's clear she feels exposed. She puts her hands in her pockets and her gaze wanders the windows and walls, anywhere but Brenda. "It might seem like a small thing – getting an office that isn't essentially a storage closet – but it's more than that. Having the attention and support of the OIG, the Commission…" Raydor trails off, her gaze slowly finding it's way back to the befuddled blonde. Raydor's eyes are catching the light of mid-afternoon and they disarm her. "And of a certain superior officer."

Brenda's face feels hot. She's glad her blinds are closed so her team can't spy on her grinning like an idiot.

Raydor's smile widens for a moment. She nods to herself, confirming what she's about to say. "It's heartening. It feels like what I'm doing isn't disregarded or unwanted. It feels like my work is appreciated. I stopped looking for any kind of positive reinforcement or respect from my peers a long time ago. It just doesn't happen in IA. But what you did…" Sharon's hands clench in her pockets. It's as if she's stopping herself, rewriting the lines she's practised before she can speak them. "Thank you, Chief." She hesitates then adds, "Thank you. Brenda."

The Captain looks like she's on the verge of tears. Brenda is dumbstruck. She doesn't know what to do. If they were friends, it would be an opportunity for her to reach out to the woman, to embrace and comfort her, to let her know physically that she is here for her.

But they're not friends. Not quite. And Brenda feels her heart trying to leap past her ribcage in response, as if trying to beat out the words, "WHAT NOW?"

And of course she knows what she wants to do. She wants to step from behind the safety of her desk and give the woman a goddamn hug. She wants to offer her support. She believes in that support

The problem is that she's also terrified. The only time she's with people this vulnerable, she's causing it. Manipulating the emotions of some unwilling suspect in an effort to draw something out that they didn't mean or want to divulge.

But Sharon isn't being manipulated. She's offering her vulnerability. Freely. It makes her more human and more accessible than she's ever seemed and it's simply terrifying to be let in like that by someone she once despised.

Sharon seems to be held in the moment too, waiting. Waiting for something to happen.

It doesn't. The moment passes and Sharon's smile falters.

"You're very welcome." Brenda hears herself say. The sound of her voice is almost robotic, strained by the tenseness of her posture and her rapidly whirring brain.

Sharon's eyes have lost the light. She avoids Brenda's gaze and nods again, falling back into a professional mode. She looks disappointed but unsurprised. Brenda's heart hurts.

"Just wanted to come by and say it in person. Have a good day, Chief." Sharon, removes her hands from her pockets, turns, and begins her walk to the door.

Brenda's brain and heart and lungs and every other bit that earns a voice scream at her in unison. Oh, fer heaven's sakes! She thinks to herself in exasperation. She bounds out of her seat and before the Captain can leave, Brenda lays a hand on her shoulder.

"Sharon," she says and when Sharon turns to look at her, shock evident in her face, Brenda puts her arms around the woman, giving her a firm hug that would make any good Southerner proud.

Sharon's arms are a bit slow to respond, but when they do, Brenda knows she's made the right decision. She tightens her grip on her a little and even lets her eyes fall shut. She picks up the scent of her shampoo – lavender maybe? – and underneath, a whiff of chlorine. In her arms, she feels how slight the woman is, but strong too.

Brenda opens her eyes and lets go a little reluctantly, taking a step back.

"You're more than worth the respect and support, Sharon. I'm just sorry it took this long for me to stop bein' so childish. To realize that I could help somehow."

Sharon's warm smile returns. Brenda is close enough to see the little lines in her lips and the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes. It's hard to reconcile this woman with the one she met only a few years ago: the one that had her dead-to-rights within a few seconds of conversation. But she likes the contradiction. She likes that Sharon Raydor is a complex woman, a woman who hides more than she reveals. It's always been more satisfying to Brenda to work for something. Makes the prize that much more rewarding.

"I think we've both had our moments of immaturity. But I'm hoping that part of our relationship is over. For the most part, at least." Her voice is a devastating purr at this range. Low and soothing and powerful. Brenda licks her lips and tries not to think about the word, "relationship."

"I'd like to think it is." Brenda says.

"Will you come down and see me sometime? In my new surroundings? I'm moving into the new spot next week and it only seems right that you see the fruits of your labour."

"I'd like that." Brenda says. And means it.

Brenda rolls her shoulders and drops her purse at the front door. This day has been long. And while she does not regret for a moment the decision to stand up for Raydor - the Captain's visit was an unexpected and oddly delightful reward - she is a little bit regretting the consequences. She never goes too long from the world of petty, police politics, but this latest escapade seems to eclipse her past forays.

Pope (and his audibly uncomfortable assistant) have been leaving passive aggressive messages on her cell. Which maybe she could report him for, but then he's careful not to say what he really wants to, using thinly-veiled orders and requests of the department instead. If she has to hear his voice one more time today, she thinks she'll scream. So instead, she underhand tosses her phone at the couch as she enters the sitting room.

"Ouch!" Fritz flinches and deflects the phone, but it still hits him in the chest before it falls onto the couch cushions.

Brenda's hands fly to her mouth. "Oh! Oh my gosh! Fritzy, I'm so sorry!" Then she blinks a little. "Why're you sittin' in the dark?"

"I was trying to have a little evening nap, but I didn't realize the idea bothered you so much." He stands, making his way over to her to drop a kiss on her head.

"I'm sorry. Work today was just... well it was complicated." Brenda drags herself to the couch and falls into it dramatically. "Pope dragged me into his office this mornin' so he could have a dyin' duck fit with my undivided attention. And then he proceeds to get halfway up my backside while 'm tryin' to close a case."Though the Cap'n did come by to say thanks. Was real gracious about it." She pauses to consider. "I guess I just never realized how tedious a little bit of the written word could be."

She finally looks up at Fritz. He looks like he's been blindsided by a tractor.

"I'm sorry, honey. How w's your day?"

Fritz chuckles and leaves the room. "Comparatively boring." He calls from the kitchen. She yanks herself free of the couch and follows him.

He's unpacking various containers of take-out and assembling a couple of plates of food. He finishes one and sticks it in the microwave, slamming the door shut with a little more force than necessary.

Brenda's mouth hangs open for a moment. "Oh. Shit, I forgot."

Fritz glances up at her a little while he continues to stack food on the second plate. "Forgot what, Brenda?" He mutters dimly.

"Fritzy, I meant to be home on time, honestly. I - oh hell, I didn't ev'n get you anything."

Fritz shakes his head a little. "It's not a big deal. Not like we made much of a stink last year either. It's an anniversary, not the end of the world." The microwave beeps and Fritz removes the first plate and slides the second in.

"At least let me help," Brenda reaches for the takeout containers, trying to pack things up.

But Fritz pushes her hand away as soon as it reaches. "Don't." He says firmly, a little too firmly. He swallows at the roughness in his tone and corrects it. "Just pour yourself a glass of wine, sit down, and relax. It's not a big deal."

Somehow saying that "it isn't a big deal" twice doesn't reassure either of them.

"I don't need the wine." Brenda says a little curtly before she sits down at the table, feeling a little like an admonished child.

"I know." Fritz says, more apology in his voice than bitterness.

He brings both plates to the table and pours them each some water. They both eat in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why defend Raydor like that? Why the change of heart?"

Brenda chews and shrugs. "I jus' started feeling bad, I guess. She puts up with a lot. And I realized I could do something about it. It doesn't make up for how I treated her department before, but it's something."

Fritz has stopped chewing. He stares at his wife with his eyebrows raised.

"What?" Brenda asks.

It's Frtiz's turn to shrug. "Nothing. I'm just impressed. Shows a level of maturity I never realized you were capable of." He's trying to suppress a smirk.

Brenda kicks him under the table but can't help but smile. "Mr. Howard, how dare you sass me!"

Fritz turns his full grin on her. "Why, Miss Brenda Leigh, it's my favourite thing to do."

A/N: Next time: Brenda visits Sharon in her new office. And possibly a party. Stay tuned! (Sorry it's taken me so long. Can't guarantee speedy updates while I'm working full time.) Reviews are love!