Author's Note: This is a missing scene from "Man Hunt" just after Chief Johnson gets her man. What reaction did the other men in her life have upon hearing her call for backup?

"Chief?" "Chief!" Provenza yelled into the phone. He could hear grunts and muffled sounds of movement, but nothing more specific after the sudden cry from his boss as she asked for backup. And then the unmistakable sound: Boom!...Boom! Boom! Boom! Provenza's heart dropped. Hands shaking, he grabbed his radio, keeping the cell phone close to his ear to catch any sound of her voice.

"Shots fired! Officer needs assistance," he shouted into the radio. "Request backup at…" he paused to look at his notebook, "at 37401 E. Pacific Street. Repeat, shots fired. Officer needs help." Provenza turned and ran for his car in the parking lot. Grunting, he tried to listen as best as he could to his cell phone. Surely, she was O.K. Dear God, please let her be O.K. Stopping to catch his breath, he repeated into the phone, "Chief? Chief, are you all right?" Over the sound of his own heavy breathing, Provenza thought he heard a high-pitched voice, muffled in the background. He started walking fast to his car, cursing Flynn for not making him go to the gym more often. He'd be in better shape now to reach his boss if he had. If anything happened to Brenda, Willie Rae would never forgive him. He'd never forgive himself. Another "Boom!" and then silence. Provenza broke into a run.

Reaching the car, he used one hand to support himself, breath ragged, while the other one opened the car door. He listened to the sound of police traffic on the radio. Dispatchers directed officers to the marina. Sirens sounded in the background as units responded. Provenza closed his eyes as he leaned against the car door, willing his breathing to slow down so he could hear for any signs of movement over the cell phone. He focused and thought he heard faint clattering sounds of objects moving across the floor.

"Brenda Lee?" he whispered, willing her to answer. Muffled sounds became louder. "Dear God, let it be her," he pleaded silently. Suddenly, a cry of victory sounded, and then sobs. Gentle first, and then louder. He heard sirens in the background. Provenza wasn't sure if they were coming from the police radio or the cell phone. "Chief?" he asked again. "Is that you? Are you O.K.?" A break in the sobs, followed by a deep breath sounded over the phone.

"Yes, Lieutenant, it's me," he finally heard her voice. Relief swept over him as he sat down quickly onto the car seat. He heard shouts of "Police! Hands up! Drop your weapon!" and knew she had been found. Alive. Provenza pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped sweat from his forehead. His breathing was ragged from exertion. Damn, he never runs.

"Shots fired. Officer requests assistance." As the address was broadcast over the radio, Lt. Andy Flynn exclaimed "Shit!" and simultaneously executed a sharp U-turn at the intersection, prompting cars to brake suddenly, horns blaring. Oblivious to the commotion he'd caused, Flynn tightened his grip on the wheel and switched on his squad lights. Weaving through traffic, his teeth clenched, Flynn muttered "Go, go, go!" The dock address was the chief's next stop to interview Tammy Reynold's ex-husband. And she had gone there alone. Damn it! He should have insisted on going with her. The chief was still clearly not feeling well and off her game. The words 'shots fired' kept replaying over again in his mind. He pounded the steering wheel, willing the squealing tires to spin faster. Deftly maneuvering around traffic, Flynn glimpsed the harbor past the next set of street lights. Heart racing, he swung the car around the corner of the building and screeched to a halt next to Chief Johnson's car. In one fluid motion he opened the door, drew his gun, and advanced towards the building. A sideways glance showed no other LAPD cars on scene, although sirens indicated their approach. Gun out in front of his body, he ducked under the window as he approached the door. No one in view yet. Protocol said he should wait for backup. Not a chance. Brenda was inside, alone, with a potential serial killer. "Stop and listen," he cautioned himself as he came up to the workshop's door. Sirens sounded nearby, the crunch of tires on gravel, a slamming door. Then, from the workshop's interior, he heard a small cry. Whirling, Flynn aimed his gun at the door and stepped in full view of the occupants.

"Police! Hands up! Drop your weapon!" he ordered, eyes adjusting to the gloom. A sob reached his ears as he saw her body crouched on the floor, gun pointed in his direction, wavering in her hand. As the chief recognized her lieutenant, the gun slowly dropped to her side. Relief washed over Flynn as he quickly scanned her body and saw she wasn't outwardly hurt, then stared in disbelief at the form slumped at his feet, blood oozing from the bullet wounds in his chest. His eyes met hers. Forcing herself to breathe slower, Brenda let go of her weapon without breaking his gaze. "I am so glad to see you, Lieutenant," she spoke at last, her voice quavering.

Sergeant Gabriel stood protectively next to where Brenda sat at the back of the ambulance while paramedics took her vitals. Usually one to loudly protest any fuss made over her on the job, the chief quietly sat with her eyes closed. She didn't have the energy to stop them. Squad cars with lights flashing blocked the drive to the docks and surrounded the building. Robbery/Homicide officers were sweeping the area for evidence. A body covered in a white sheet still lay on the floor of the workshop, blood seeping through the sheet. Sanchez and Tao assisted in collecting evidence. Her chest & back hurt where the cattle prod had zapped her. Brenda shivered. She could still see the look in the man's eyes as he approached her where she'd fallen from the impact, narrowing in on her with an intensity that left no doubt what he would do next. Her shivering intensified.

"Chief?" She opened her eyes and looked up at the young man who hadn't left her side since arriving on scene. Concern showed in every aspect of his face. The paramedics asked Brenda to lie down on a stretcher but she shook her head "no," even though the exhaustion washing through her like a wave took all of her energy just to sit upright. Emotions from the day's events danced around the edge of her consciousness: the doctor's words describing her diagnosis, the diamond ring, Fritz's loving proposal, the seemingly endless weight of exhaustion that dragged her down with every step, the images of the women's bodies ravaged by a demonic killer, the sudden realization of her own danger when she saw the box of batteries, the white hot *zap* of the cattle prod against her chest, hurtling her backwards and knocking the phone from her hand, the sound of the gun…..deafening. Echoes of the shots reverberating off the walls of the workshop's small space created an effect that felt like waves bouncing against objects and coming back to her, now coming from all directions, spinning….the room was spinning. Brenda shook her head to break the feeling. Nausea swelled up and she began to breathe faster. She sensed the paramedics observing her closely. She put her hands to her head, fingers massaging her temples. She focused on breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Where was Fritz? She needed to feel his strong arms encircling her, pulling her in tightly to his chest, feeling his mouth against her hair murmuring that everything would be O.K., that she was safe. Tears springing to her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her body and hugged herself tightly. She couldn't stop the shaking.

"Chief?" she heard again. This time, Gabriel's face was at her level as he crouched down next to her. Through her blurred gaze, she could read his concern and eagerness to help. Brenda tried to smile.

"Sergeant, my phone must be in my purse. Would you get it and call Fritz for me please? Tell him where we are and ask him to meet me here?" Brenda didn't trust herself to talk to Fritz. The moment she would hear his voice, she knew she'd fall apart. That couldn't happen in front of her squad. She willed herself to remain strong, with every last bit of energy she had left.

Sounds of car doors slamming broke her inner resolve. "Where is she?" demanded a male voice she knew intimately. Looking up, she saw Assistant Chief Will Pope rushing towards the ambulance, shoving officers out of the way in his hurry. Just as quickly, Brenda closed her eyes, lowered her head, and leaned forward, trying to keep her nausea at bay.

"Chief?" Sergeant David Gabriel's face revealed his concern as he knelt next to his boss. He'd never seen her look so vulnerable before. By the time Gabriel had arrived on scene with Detective Sanchez and Lieutenant Tao, multiple squad cars and an ambulance had blocked off Pacific Street. Uniformed officers were putting up yellow crime scene tape while Robbery/Homicide detectives placed numbered evidence cards around the boat maintenance workshop. Four to five cards marked shell casings, another marked a cattle prod next to the body. Gabriel stared at the unseeing eyes of the man lying slumped against the wall, anger welling up in his chest. No one had covered the body yet but all had seen the multiple gunshot wounds in the chest. Blood ceased to flow out of the wounds but the red stains on the white wife-beater tank continued to spread. Despite his growing anger, Gabriel appreciated the tight grouping of the bullet holes. Damn, the chief drilled him good. The bastard. Having rushed into the building upon his arrival, the detective looked around for Chief Johnson. She wasn't there. He returned to the street and saw Commander Taylor and Lt. Flynn near the ambulance. Gabriel hastened quickly to join them. Ever since the call came through about an officer requiring backup with shots fired, adrenaline had been coursing through his body. So much, in fact, that he barely recalled the fast drive over to Pacific Street.

Now she was asking him to call her boyfriend instead of making the call herself. Gabriel knew Brenda Lee Johnson to be guarded with the squad about her personal life, working hard to keep the two separate. Except when she needed professional help from the FBI with one of her cases, of course. Sergeant Gabriel looked questioningly at his boss. She smiled weakly and nodded her head. "Please," she whispered, then glanced toward the commotion coming from behind the ambulance. Frowning, she leaned forward and put her head down to her knees.

"Where is she?" Gabriel heard him shout from behind the officers congregated near the ambulance. Rising, he saw Assistant Chief Pope striding towards the ambulance. Gabriel met his eyes and stepped forward, shielding Chief Johnson's body from direct view. Pope stopped abruptly and asked, "Is she all right?" Worry showed in every line of his face.

"Yes, sir," Gabriel replied quietly. Pope looked around him and saw Brenda sitting on the ambulance step, head down on her knees. He brushed past the sergeant abruptly, disregarding any attempt to cover up the emotion on his face. Gabriel watched for a moment as Pope knelt next to Brenda. She was shaking her head but not looking at her boss. Tight-lipped, Gabriel left the area to look for Chief Johnson's purse and cell phone. Walking over to Lt. Flynn and Commander Taylor, Gabriel asked if either of them had seen the chief's purse.

"She had it with her when I helped her out of the workshop," Flynn commented, moving a toothpick around with his tongue and watching the scene at the ambulance. Sergeant Gabriel waited a moment to see if either man would be more helpful, then sighed and returned to the ambulance. One of the paramedics found Chief Johnson's purse sitting just under the rig out-of-sight. Gabriel thanked the woman and stepped away from the crowd to search for the phone. When he found it, Gabriel scrolled through the chief's contact list and found the name "Fritzy." He smiled at the affectionate nickname, then hit the call button. Fritz answered on the third ring.

"Hi love, are you ready for that romantic dinner I promised you?" Fritz asked, obviously expecting to be talking to Brenda. Gabriel cleared his throat.

"Uh, no sir, this is Sergeant Gabriel," he said, quickly adding "Chief Johnson asked me to call you. There's been an incident down at the harbor and she'd like you to meet her here."

"An incident?" Fritz asked sharply. He knew the case. He also knew his fiancé would not ask Sergeant Gabriel to call him if she could have called herself. "Is Brenda all right?" he demanded quickly.

"Yes, sir," Sgt. Gabriel hastened to say. "Well, not exactly, sir. She was involved in an incident with the suspect and, well, she killed him."

"Give me the address, Sergeant. I'm on my way."

The only parking Provenza could find outside of the condoned off crime scene was a block away. The officer guarding the crime scene denied him access, saying the small area was overrun with cars. Muttering under his breath, he flashed his badge to the officer assigned entry and walked towards the commotion. He'd have been here sooner and beat the crowd, he told himself, if he hadn't felt the need to calm his racing heartbeat after reaching his car earlier. Flynn had called him as soon as he'd secured the crime scene, describing the situation he'd found with the Chief and the dead guy. Now, as Provenza walked with his characteristic gait towards the hub of activity, another car pulled up to the entry officer. The woman in the car showed her credentials and Lt. Provenza overheard the officer say "Yes, ma'am, Captain," and direct her to drive through.

"Hey!" Provenza yelled at the younger officer. The man glanced towards him. "That should have been me!" The guard shook his head slightly and gave the older man a dismissive look. "Why you young dog," Provenza grumbled, glaring back at the officer. Then he turned and watched the previous driver's car park near the small crowd of officers surrounding the ambulance. The woman got out of the car and immediately the crowd parted ways as Chief Pope and Commander Taylor approached her to talk. No sign of the Chief, Provenza noticed. Flynn had said she showed no outward sign of injury, such as a bullet wound, which explained why he didn't feel a sense of urgency coming from the people near the ambulance. That was a relief.

"Lt., sir," a quiet voice spoke next to him. Started, Provenza turned to see Detective Sanchez and Lt. Tao standing nearby. They had exited the boat maintenance workshop to his right. Tao was scribbling notes onto his notepad, no doubt some forensics details to look up later.

"Catch me up to date," Provenza ordered, as the three walked towards the others.

"Well, sir," began Detective Sanchez, "Chief Johnson called for assistance…"

"No, that was me," interrupted the lieutenant. "She called me to ask for backup and gave me the address." Sanchez' eyebrows raised as he looked at Lt. Tao. Then he started over.

"So you called in back up for the chief. We were all in the office calling women clients of The Verge to warn them about dating anyone with a sailboat."

"Flynn wasn't there," Lt. Tao broke in quickly. "Apparently he was already en route. He was first on scene."

"Yeah, how did that happen?" Provenza wondered. They had approached the ambulance by now. Pope & Taylor were still talking to the woman, who Lt. Provenza recognized now as an investigative officer with Internal Affairs. All officer-involved shootings fell under IA's jurisdiction. Lt. Flynn stood off to the side looking towards the ambulance while Sgt. Gabriel talked on his cell phone a short distance away.

"Hey Flynn!" called out Lt. Provenza. Flynn stepped aside to make room for the others as they approached. "How's the chief?"

"See for yourself," Flynn replied, nodding towards the ambulance. Chief Johnson was still sitting & listening quietly to the paramedics' questions. She briefly nodded as her eyes wandered around the crowd, searching. For a moment, her gaze met Lt. Provenza's, then just as quickly left to scan the crowd again. With a sigh, she leaned against the door frame. She looked like a ghost, Provenza thought: pale, tired, subdued. Not at all like the sassy take-charge woman he worked with.

"What had you out on the streets earlier than the rest of us?" Lt. Tao was asking Flynn, catching Provenza's attention.

"Well, you know how she wanted us to call all the 2,000 women on The Verge's client list and discretely warn them not to date any perverts they meet until we found this guy? Well, I hit pay dirt. My ninth call I talked with a woman named Melinda Trent. She told me she had a date tomorrow night with a guy she'd just met. He invited her to go sailing for a sunset tour of the bay, a romantic cruise. I was on my way to interview her with a photo of Robert Reynolds, when I heard the call on the radio. I recognized the address I'd given Chief for Tammy Reynold's ex. So I got here first." He shrugged.

"Robert Reynolds looks a lot different from his photo now," Provenza mumbled and told the others about finding Reynolds' decapitated body. "At least we got this psycho before he got to Victim Number III." As a group, they all looked towards their boss, recognizing her determination to save the next woman before she fell prey to the PCH Killer and realizing how close Brenda had been to being the victim herself.

Brenda felt numb. Once Will Pope was reassured she was O.K., he moved into damage-control mode. The media had arrived with cameras and reporters. "Good news travels fast," Brenda though. "Bad news travels faster." Sgt. Gabriel had told her Fritz was on his way. She wished he travelled faster than bad news. The paramedics had finally quit buzzing around her like a bothersome fly she couldn't swat away. She felt drained of energy and couldn't get the sound of the gunshots out of her head. At least Will had finally left her alone. She needed Fritz. Tears started welling up in her eyes, and she dashed them away angrily with the back of her hand. Her cell phone rang. Hoping it was Fritz, she answered it without her characteristic "Assistant Deputy Chief Brenda Lee Johnson." Instead, she said hopefully, "Fritz?"

"No honey, it's your momma," came across the line. The tears in her eyes welled up faster. How did her mother always know?

"Brenda Lee? Honey, is everything all right?" Hearing her mother's comforting southern accent made Brenda's voice catch in her throat. All right? I'm in early onset menopause, I'm engaged, and I killed a man….all in the same day. No momma, I'm not all right, she thought. But she couldn't tell her mother that over the phone.

"Yes, Momma, I'm all right. I'm just….it's just….there's just a lot of things going on right now. It's not a good time to talk." Brenda hoped beyond hope that her fragility didn't telegraph itself over the phone. "I'll call you back later, Momma, when I have a minute and things aren't so hectic." Brenda gazed around at the scene of officers & reporters and wondered when that would be.

"All right, honey. We'll talk tonight," her mother promised. "I need to give you the flight information for our visit. And I'd love to make some plans. Daddy & I are so excited to get a tour of LA, and of course, he needs to meet Fritz….." Brenda stopped listening to her mother's excited chatter. Why did everything seem to be going in slow motion? She felt dizzy again and laid her head down on her knees. She didn't remember saying goodbye to her mother. She just hugged her knees and quietly wept, not caring who saw or heard her now.

And then she heard his voice. Over the sounds of the crime scene, she heard another car approach with squealing tires as it braked suddenly. Sounds of a car door slamming and then the steady stride she knew so well walking towards her. Brenda lifted her head, hope lighting up her face, as Fritz approached her through the crowd. Her vision narrowed until she only saw his face. Reaching her side, Fritz immediately & quickly scanned her body to reassure himself she wasn't hurt. The he knelt and took her in his arms, resting his chin on her hair, cradling her head against his shoulder, arms wrapped protectively around her. Tears showed in his eyes as he gently rocked Brenda, soothingly rubbing her back. Brenda's arms tightened around Fritz's waist. She didn't even try to stop the sobs that came forth.

"It's O.K., everything's going to be O.K.," he whispered. "You're safe."

As soon as Agent Fritz Howard arrived, the men of Priority Homicide made a semi-circle with their backs to the intimate scene at the ambulance, feet spread apart, hands behind their backs, blocking the view from public eyes.