F*@&ed Up 8/10
Title: F*@&ked Up
Part: 8/10
Author: outuendo_11, with a little help from my friend!
Rating: MA
Warnings: Contains graphic, dark material. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Pairings: Sharon Raydor/Brenda Leigh Johnson, Sharon Raydor/OC, Brenda Leigh Johnson/Fritz Howard
Summary: Sharon Raydor's life is not as put together as it appears.
A/N: I find it comical that you ladies commented on the shorter, not sex chapter more than commented on the sex chapter. I guess in this story, the sex isn't even that important. :P Just kidding, here is more. And I must warn that there are dark things to come soon. Anyway, please review! I really appreciate your reviews a whole lot. And I promised another chapter of "Through the Music..." so you can be excited for that tomorrow, but for now, read this and review. Let me know what you think. :) Thank you all!
Chapter 8
It took Brenda a day and a half to re-acclimate to working. She would have thought she could walk right in and get right back to business, but the shock of the shooting seemed to stay with her. She was cautious, preferring to stick to the office when she could. Luckily for her, Major Crimes was pinned with mindless cases which included a few interviews, nothing too intense.
Brenda found she was comfortable riding suspects, her confidence growing with each person she questioned.
She was feeling empowered by the end of the second day, and instead of going home to celebrate with Fritzy, she found herself driving down Sharon’s road.
The lights were on inside her bungalow. She was home.
Brenda parked her car and stepped out, her body tingling with want. It had been two days since they’d seen one another, since the last time they’d talked in person. Of course there had been the sporadic texts now and again, but Brenda missed Sharon’s physical presence.
Knowing she was about to see the woman face to face made her heart beat faster, her chest to tighten in a most pleasurable way.
She rang the doorbell and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. She was much more nervous than she had been the first time she’d been in Sharon’s home. This second time meant it was more than a onetime slip-up, this was deliberate, this was cheating on Fritz, this was acknowledging that she wanted Sharon Raydor.
She heard footsteps padding towards the door, the lock sliding open, the smell of cigarette smoke escaping as the door opened - just as it had all played out several nights before. But as the door came open to reveal Sharon, Brenda sensed something was different.
The woman before her was in a button-up men’s shirt, her hair was messy a top her head, her make-up smeared, her feet and legs bare, her cheeks were flushed.
“What are you doing here?” Sharon’s brow creased, her arms moving to wrap the shirt tightly around her small frame.
“What are…” Sharon tried to block the entrance to her home, but Brenda pushed her way inside, glancing in to the living room.
He was standing there. Naked. With a pillow pressed to his mid-section.
“You’re…you’re sleepin’ with him?” Brenda was baffled. She had thought…she hadn’t…but then she supposed she’d known. Of course. Of course she was.
Sharon grabbed her arm, pushing her against the wall. “It’s not like that, Brenda Leigh.” Her voice was low, green eyes searching, trying to get Brenda to look at her. “It’s not like that.”
“It certainly looks like you’re…you’re fuckin’ him.” Brenda twisted out of Sharon’s grasp. “Get off-a me.” Brenda felt tears burning at the back of eyes. “How could you…how could…but he’s an asshole!” Brenda spat, her eyes finally meeting Sharon’s.
“It’s fucking messed up, but please…I didn’t want you to…I didn’t mean for you…shit, shit, shit.” Sharon pressed herself against the hallway wall, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Oh come on Sharon, aren’t you going to fight for her a little harder than that?” Mitchell had pulled on a pair of shorts and was lighting up a cigarette. He seemed unphased by Brenda’s presence. “Is this the woman you’ve been fucking?”
Sharon closed her eyes and looked away from him.
“I see, and nice to see you again, Brenda.” He coolly smiled at her, keeping a considerable distance from the two women. “I guess you can see Sharon’s true colors now. She’s not so nice, is she?” He puffed on the cigarette.
“Shit,” Sharon just kept cursing, unable to look at Mitchell or Brenda.
Brenda felt glued to the spot. She wanted to punch Mitchell. He was being a complete asshole, but she also wanted to shake Sharon. This made no sense. She’d lost her sense.
“I…I think I should go.” Brenda wiped at her cheeks and turned.
Sharon caught her arm. “Please, don’t…please don’t go. Brenda…please.”
Brenda shrugged her off and stepped out the front door. She couldn’t make sense of the situation; she couldn’t understand how Sharon could possibly be sleeping with that horrible, horrible man.
Brenda got in to her car and wiped furiously at her eyes. This was not how she’d envisioned her evening going. Now she was supposed to go home and pretend as if nothing happened. How was she going to do that?
…
Sharon collapsed against the wall, sliding down in to a seated position. There were no tears. It was the strangest thing, but she seemed unable to cry in front of people.
“That was pathetic.” Mitchell had returned from the kitchen with a beer in hand.
“I want you to leave.” Her voice was shaky, not her own. She was surprised by how hollow it sounded.
“Oh come on, you don’t want to fuck your superior officer. She’s married, isn’t she? To that Agent Howard?” Mitchell took a drag of his cigarette and moved closer to Sharon, kicking her leg.
“Ouch,” she glared up at him. “I told you to leave.”
“I don’t think you really want me to leave. Come on; let’s finish what we were doing before that annoying blonde showed up.” He reached out for her, but she just curled herself tighter in to a ball.
“Get the fuck out of my house.” She repeated.
“What, are you gonna call the cops on me? I’m a fucking DA. Like they’d listen to you.” He arrogantly shrugged.
“I will call the cops if you don’t get out of my fucking house.” Sharon’s voice was growing in intensity. She found her feet again, using the wall to pull herself up.
“I’d think about the way you’re talking to me,” Mitchell stepped threateningly close to her, pinning her against the wall.
“Get away.” Sharon pushed at him, but he didn’t move. “I swear to God, Mitchell, I have a gun.”
“Oh, you’re going to shoot me? That’d go over real well in court, wouldn’t it?” But he stepped away.
“Get out of my house.” Sharon reached for the open door, pulling it open wider. She reached for his keys that were on the table in the entry way. She tossed them out the door, took the beer and cigarette from him, and then shoved him towards the door.
He grabbed her wrists, causing the beer to spill all over the front entryway. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” Sharon hit at him. “Get the fuck out!”
“I don’t get my clothes? Oh come on,” but she had him half way out the door. “Fuck you, Sharon.”
She closed and locked the door behind him and then looked down to find that her foot was bleeding from running in to the glass of the beer bottle. “Fuck.”
She sat down on the ground in a clear spot and picked up her foot, inspecting it for shards of glass. She picked the pieces out and then crawled to the bathroom in her entryway, pulling a wad of toilet paper in to her hands. She wrapped her feet in the paper, rummaging through the drawers of the bathroom for some spare band-aids.
Her life was a fucking mess.
As soon as her foot was bandaged, she limped her way in to the kitchen and grabbed her cell phone. She knew she couldn’t go after Brenda because she knew she would have gone home. Home meant she would be with Fritz. All Sharon could do was call her.
And that was exactly what she did. She called her. The first time she was unsurprised to find that the call went straight to voicemail.
The second call went to voicemail.
The third, the fourth, the fifth.
Climbing on to her couch, Sharon felt the onset of her tears beginning. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” She kept cursing, redialing Brenda’s number over and over again.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there dialing Brenda’s number, but sometime after eleven she finally gave up.
“I’m…so…fucked up.” She breathed in to the receiver after the beep of the message machine. “I’m so sorry…I’m so fucked up.” Her tears choked her up and she simply hung up the phone, throwing it across the room.
Cuddling in to a ball on her couch, Sharon cried in to her throw pillow, feeling sick to her stomach.
…
Brenda was beginning to feel awkward. Each time the phone rang, Fritz would glance over at her. “Sorry,” she sheepishly whispered, sending the call to voicemail. “I keep gettin’ work e-mails. I must’ve missed a lot when I was gone.” She shrugged, and then turned back to the movie they were trying to watch. Except her mind was not on the movie. Not at all. Her mind was stuck back in Sharon Raydor’s house, back to when Sharon had actually grabbed her and begged her not to leave.
“That’s a lot of e-mails, Brenda Leigh,” Fritz simply sipped his nightly cup of tea, and leaned back against the couch.
“I know it, Fritzy.” She felt the phone vibrating again and quickly sent it to voicemail, pretending to check it as if it were an e-mail.
“Seriously, what is going on?” He glanced over at her.
“It’s nothin’ Fritz.” Brenda innocently shrugged, glancing over at him. “It’s nothin’. I can just…silence it.” She powered her phone down and sat it on the coffee table, moving to snuggle in to Fritz’s side. She could feel tears clouding her vision, but she fought very hard to keep them from falling.
“Are you okay?” He asked, his strong hand sliding up and down her side.
She nodded against his stomach, not trusting her own voice.
“Are you doing okay with work?” He ran his fingers through her hair and she wanted to bat his hand away, she didn’t want him to be touching her like Sharon did. But what could she have with Sharon? This was so fucked up.
Swallowing she nodded. “It’s…it’s good. I’m doin’ fine.”
“That’s good.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Brenda?”
“Hmm?” She tried to make herself sound happy.
“I think we need to reconnect.” He whispered, his hand trailing up her side.
She felt disgusting. “How would we…do you…”
“Sleep with me.” He let his hand wrap around her stomach.
She bit her lip. Sleeping with Fritz was the last thing she wanted to do. “I…I can’t tonight, Fritzy. Please…I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow night?”
She felt his body stiffen against her.
His response came several minutes later. “I think I’m going to bed.”
She nodded and moved away from him so that he could get up. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, but he didn’t respond as he made his way to the bedroom.
The tears came rolling down her cheeks then. Why couldn’t she let him love her? Why were her thoughts perpetually stuck on the brunette who was only causing her pain?
Curiosity overtook her. She picked up her phone and powered it back on. She wondered if Fritz had seen who it really was. She wondered if he was at all suspicious of her behavior, of what had been happening. She felt horrible. She didn’t want him involved in this horrible situation, yet he was.
She found she only had one voice message. It had been left at 11:16 PM.
She was weary of this message, weary of what Sharon might have said.
She almost wanted to just erase it. She didn’t want to hear from the woman. She wasn’t sure she could handle hearing her voice, hearing her broken, or upset, or begging. Her stomach churned, but she figured the sooner she got through it, the sooner she could delete it. Perhaps she could delete the message and then delete Sharon Raydor completely from her mind. If she could just forget her, perhaps she could salvage her once perfect, pristine marriage.
She wiped at her tears, pressing her phone to her ear.
“I’m so fucked up…I’m sorry…I’m so fucked up.”
Muffled sobs could be heard before the phone went dead.
Brenda took in a shaky breath. Her heart constricted, worry, pain, want clenched her chest.
She wanted to strangle the woman, but at the same time she wanted to run to her, to hug her, to hold her, to tell her she didn’t need Mitchell. But Brenda knew, almost better than anyone, that people were unchangeable. Sharon would have to get out of this mess on her own. It was probably better if Brenda stayed out of it.
Yet, all Brenda wanted to do was curl herself around the brunette and hold her until the sun came up. These horribly conflicting thoughts drove Brenda to reach for a pillow on the couch, curl her arms around it, and fall asleep teary eyed.
Part: 8/10
Author: outuendo_11, with a little help from my friend!
Rating: MA
Warnings: Contains graphic, dark material. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Pairings: Sharon Raydor/Brenda Leigh Johnson, Sharon Raydor/OC, Brenda Leigh Johnson/Fritz Howard
Summary: Sharon Raydor's life is not as put together as it appears.
A/N: I find it comical that you ladies commented on the shorter, not sex chapter more than commented on the sex chapter. I guess in this story, the sex isn't even that important. :P Just kidding, here is more. And I must warn that there are dark things to come soon. Anyway, please review! I really appreciate your reviews a whole lot. And I promised another chapter of "Through the Music..." so you can be excited for that tomorrow, but for now, read this and review. Let me know what you think. :) Thank you all!
Chapter 8
It took Brenda a day and a half to re-acclimate to working. She would have thought she could walk right in and get right back to business, but the shock of the shooting seemed to stay with her. She was cautious, preferring to stick to the office when she could. Luckily for her, Major Crimes was pinned with mindless cases which included a few interviews, nothing too intense.
Brenda found she was comfortable riding suspects, her confidence growing with each person she questioned.
She was feeling empowered by the end of the second day, and instead of going home to celebrate with Fritzy, she found herself driving down Sharon’s road.
The lights were on inside her bungalow. She was home.
Brenda parked her car and stepped out, her body tingling with want. It had been two days since they’d seen one another, since the last time they’d talked in person. Of course there had been the sporadic texts now and again, but Brenda missed Sharon’s physical presence.
Knowing she was about to see the woman face to face made her heart beat faster, her chest to tighten in a most pleasurable way.
She rang the doorbell and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. She was much more nervous than she had been the first time she’d been in Sharon’s home. This second time meant it was more than a onetime slip-up, this was deliberate, this was cheating on Fritz, this was acknowledging that she wanted Sharon Raydor.
She heard footsteps padding towards the door, the lock sliding open, the smell of cigarette smoke escaping as the door opened - just as it had all played out several nights before. But as the door came open to reveal Sharon, Brenda sensed something was different.
The woman before her was in a button-up men’s shirt, her hair was messy a top her head, her make-up smeared, her feet and legs bare, her cheeks were flushed.
“What are you doing here?” Sharon’s brow creased, her arms moving to wrap the shirt tightly around her small frame.
“What are…” Sharon tried to block the entrance to her home, but Brenda pushed her way inside, glancing in to the living room.
He was standing there. Naked. With a pillow pressed to his mid-section.
“You’re…you’re sleepin’ with him?” Brenda was baffled. She had thought…she hadn’t…but then she supposed she’d known. Of course. Of course she was.
Sharon grabbed her arm, pushing her against the wall. “It’s not like that, Brenda Leigh.” Her voice was low, green eyes searching, trying to get Brenda to look at her. “It’s not like that.”
“It certainly looks like you’re…you’re fuckin’ him.” Brenda twisted out of Sharon’s grasp. “Get off-a me.” Brenda felt tears burning at the back of eyes. “How could you…how could…but he’s an asshole!” Brenda spat, her eyes finally meeting Sharon’s.
“It’s fucking messed up, but please…I didn’t want you to…I didn’t mean for you…shit, shit, shit.” Sharon pressed herself against the hallway wall, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Oh come on Sharon, aren’t you going to fight for her a little harder than that?” Mitchell had pulled on a pair of shorts and was lighting up a cigarette. He seemed unphased by Brenda’s presence. “Is this the woman you’ve been fucking?”
Sharon closed her eyes and looked away from him.
“I see, and nice to see you again, Brenda.” He coolly smiled at her, keeping a considerable distance from the two women. “I guess you can see Sharon’s true colors now. She’s not so nice, is she?” He puffed on the cigarette.
“Shit,” Sharon just kept cursing, unable to look at Mitchell or Brenda.
Brenda felt glued to the spot. She wanted to punch Mitchell. He was being a complete asshole, but she also wanted to shake Sharon. This made no sense. She’d lost her sense.
“I…I think I should go.” Brenda wiped at her cheeks and turned.
Sharon caught her arm. “Please, don’t…please don’t go. Brenda…please.”
Brenda shrugged her off and stepped out the front door. She couldn’t make sense of the situation; she couldn’t understand how Sharon could possibly be sleeping with that horrible, horrible man.
Brenda got in to her car and wiped furiously at her eyes. This was not how she’d envisioned her evening going. Now she was supposed to go home and pretend as if nothing happened. How was she going to do that?
…
Sharon collapsed against the wall, sliding down in to a seated position. There were no tears. It was the strangest thing, but she seemed unable to cry in front of people.
“That was pathetic.” Mitchell had returned from the kitchen with a beer in hand.
“I want you to leave.” Her voice was shaky, not her own. She was surprised by how hollow it sounded.
“Oh come on, you don’t want to fuck your superior officer. She’s married, isn’t she? To that Agent Howard?” Mitchell took a drag of his cigarette and moved closer to Sharon, kicking her leg.
“Ouch,” she glared up at him. “I told you to leave.”
“I don’t think you really want me to leave. Come on; let’s finish what we were doing before that annoying blonde showed up.” He reached out for her, but she just curled herself tighter in to a ball.
“Get the fuck out of my house.” She repeated.
“What, are you gonna call the cops on me? I’m a fucking DA. Like they’d listen to you.” He arrogantly shrugged.
“I will call the cops if you don’t get out of my fucking house.” Sharon’s voice was growing in intensity. She found her feet again, using the wall to pull herself up.
“I’d think about the way you’re talking to me,” Mitchell stepped threateningly close to her, pinning her against the wall.
“Get away.” Sharon pushed at him, but he didn’t move. “I swear to God, Mitchell, I have a gun.”
“Oh, you’re going to shoot me? That’d go over real well in court, wouldn’t it?” But he stepped away.
“Get out of my house.” Sharon reached for the open door, pulling it open wider. She reached for his keys that were on the table in the entry way. She tossed them out the door, took the beer and cigarette from him, and then shoved him towards the door.
He grabbed her wrists, causing the beer to spill all over the front entryway. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” Sharon hit at him. “Get the fuck out!”
“I don’t get my clothes? Oh come on,” but she had him half way out the door. “Fuck you, Sharon.”
She closed and locked the door behind him and then looked down to find that her foot was bleeding from running in to the glass of the beer bottle. “Fuck.”
She sat down on the ground in a clear spot and picked up her foot, inspecting it for shards of glass. She picked the pieces out and then crawled to the bathroom in her entryway, pulling a wad of toilet paper in to her hands. She wrapped her feet in the paper, rummaging through the drawers of the bathroom for some spare band-aids.
Her life was a fucking mess.
As soon as her foot was bandaged, she limped her way in to the kitchen and grabbed her cell phone. She knew she couldn’t go after Brenda because she knew she would have gone home. Home meant she would be with Fritz. All Sharon could do was call her.
And that was exactly what she did. She called her. The first time she was unsurprised to find that the call went straight to voicemail.
The second call went to voicemail.
The third, the fourth, the fifth.
Climbing on to her couch, Sharon felt the onset of her tears beginning. “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” She kept cursing, redialing Brenda’s number over and over again.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there dialing Brenda’s number, but sometime after eleven she finally gave up.
“I’m…so…fucked up.” She breathed in to the receiver after the beep of the message machine. “I’m so sorry…I’m so fucked up.” Her tears choked her up and she simply hung up the phone, throwing it across the room.
Cuddling in to a ball on her couch, Sharon cried in to her throw pillow, feeling sick to her stomach.
…
Brenda was beginning to feel awkward. Each time the phone rang, Fritz would glance over at her. “Sorry,” she sheepishly whispered, sending the call to voicemail. “I keep gettin’ work e-mails. I must’ve missed a lot when I was gone.” She shrugged, and then turned back to the movie they were trying to watch. Except her mind was not on the movie. Not at all. Her mind was stuck back in Sharon Raydor’s house, back to when Sharon had actually grabbed her and begged her not to leave.
“That’s a lot of e-mails, Brenda Leigh,” Fritz simply sipped his nightly cup of tea, and leaned back against the couch.
“I know it, Fritzy.” She felt the phone vibrating again and quickly sent it to voicemail, pretending to check it as if it were an e-mail.
“Seriously, what is going on?” He glanced over at her.
“It’s nothin’ Fritz.” Brenda innocently shrugged, glancing over at him. “It’s nothin’. I can just…silence it.” She powered her phone down and sat it on the coffee table, moving to snuggle in to Fritz’s side. She could feel tears clouding her vision, but she fought very hard to keep them from falling.
“Are you okay?” He asked, his strong hand sliding up and down her side.
She nodded against his stomach, not trusting her own voice.
“Are you doing okay with work?” He ran his fingers through her hair and she wanted to bat his hand away, she didn’t want him to be touching her like Sharon did. But what could she have with Sharon? This was so fucked up.
Swallowing she nodded. “It’s…it’s good. I’m doin’ fine.”
“That’s good.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Brenda?”
“Hmm?” She tried to make herself sound happy.
“I think we need to reconnect.” He whispered, his hand trailing up her side.
She felt disgusting. “How would we…do you…”
“Sleep with me.” He let his hand wrap around her stomach.
She bit her lip. Sleeping with Fritz was the last thing she wanted to do. “I…I can’t tonight, Fritzy. Please…I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow night?”
She felt his body stiffen against her.
His response came several minutes later. “I think I’m going to bed.”
She nodded and moved away from him so that he could get up. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, but he didn’t respond as he made his way to the bedroom.
The tears came rolling down her cheeks then. Why couldn’t she let him love her? Why were her thoughts perpetually stuck on the brunette who was only causing her pain?
Curiosity overtook her. She picked up her phone and powered it back on. She wondered if Fritz had seen who it really was. She wondered if he was at all suspicious of her behavior, of what had been happening. She felt horrible. She didn’t want him involved in this horrible situation, yet he was.
She found she only had one voice message. It had been left at 11:16 PM.
She was weary of this message, weary of what Sharon might have said.
She almost wanted to just erase it. She didn’t want to hear from the woman. She wasn’t sure she could handle hearing her voice, hearing her broken, or upset, or begging. Her stomach churned, but she figured the sooner she got through it, the sooner she could delete it. Perhaps she could delete the message and then delete Sharon Raydor completely from her mind. If she could just forget her, perhaps she could salvage her once perfect, pristine marriage.
She wiped at her tears, pressing her phone to her ear.
“I’m so fucked up…I’m sorry…I’m so fucked up.”
Muffled sobs could be heard before the phone went dead.
Brenda took in a shaky breath. Her heart constricted, worry, pain, want clenched her chest.
She wanted to strangle the woman, but at the same time she wanted to run to her, to hug her, to hold her, to tell her she didn’t need Mitchell. But Brenda knew, almost better than anyone, that people were unchangeable. Sharon would have to get out of this mess on her own. It was probably better if Brenda stayed out of it.
Yet, all Brenda wanted to do was curl herself around the brunette and hold her until the sun came up. These horribly conflicting thoughts drove Brenda to reach for a pillow on the couch, curl her arms around it, and fall asleep teary eyed.