Fic: Inertia - Part 9[b] [The Closer]
Title: Inertia - Part 9[b] [The Closer]
Rating: PG-13
Ship: Brenda/Sharon
Disclaimer: Not mine; never were! No copyright infringement intended. Laura's my own, but she's not a major character.
Summary: With Fritz gone, and with Will warning Brenda her job's not as secure as she thinks, Brenda's world is falling apart. Her growing attraction to Sharon Raydor, isn't helping any.
Previous Chapters ( One) ( Two) ( Three) ( Four) ( Five) ( Six) ( Seven) ( Eight) ( 9[a])
Continued from [9a]
"Now, it's been a while since I brushed up on my police hierarchy, but doesn't a Chief outrank a Captain?" Laura teased, finishing the last of her food.
"Yes it does." Sharon answered her daughter wearily.
"So, does that mean you're dating your boss?"
"Just get over here!" She wrapped her arms around her daughter and gave her a proper hug. It had been too long since she'd seen her. She knew they saw each other over the holidays but that was so short, and the kids all had their own activities going. It was still shocking to think of her kids as people, not just her kids who used to lisp and cry and walk around with their underwear over their pants. "What are you doing here?"
"Would you believe I missed my mommy?" Laura asked, batting her eyelashes.
"Bull." She set forth her patented Raydor gaze on her daughter - people often wondered where she learned and perfected it - it was years of negotiating the truth with her children. Cracking the hardest criminal was nothing compared to cracking her children when they were younger, neither confessing to who broke the lamp (or when they were older, took the bottle of scotch). She watched her daughter squirm - she was always easier to read than Adam - just another moment and...
"Whoopie Pies?! Sharon Marie Raydor - you made Whoopie Pies?!" Brenda called out from the kitchen, interrupting the moment. "Banana foopie fies?" She continued, her mouth obviously full of the cakey, creamy goodness. Damn - why was that woman ALWAYS ruining her interrogations?
"Marie? We're on a middle name basis already?" Laura was smart, she took the out and gained the upper hand in her negotiations with her mother, "Should I start getting used to calling her mommy?"
"Cute." Sharon replied, watching her daughter's smile play out - she realized, truly, what it meant to be on the receiving end of the Raydor smirk - she didn't like it.
"I like to think so, listen -" A honk came from outside, "That's Julie, we're going out for some coffee. Don't wait up." Laura leaned over and gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek. "And we'll talk tomorrow. Don't worry - it's all good. I hope."
Sharon watched her daughter bound out the house, leaving her alone in the dark hallway. She waited for her world to slow back down to its usual speed, but it never came. Brenda was still here - in her kitchen - and she didn't know how to get her to leave. How do you tell your boss, 'I'm sorry, but you're entirely too straight for my own good, leave now so I can be miserable alone'? Because, as tactless as that was, it was the truth. Despite the blond's confession about wanting to kiss her, and that they were inches away from it earlier - it was never going to happen. It just wasn't. Sharon wasn't dumb, she knew exactly how this would play out - Brenda would have fun, or not, and would go back to Fritz (whom she actually really liked - he was not at all the type of man she'd expected when she first met him), or not - but either way, it would end and it would be messy and it would hurt. But that's what life was, wasn't it, pain? She certainly learned that the hard way when her husband had passed away - Jamie was the love of her life, he still was - and when he died suddenly, without any warning, with two young kids to take care of, she was left alone and in pain. She couldn't understand why the world kept turning when hers had ended - but it revived itself, slowly and surely. The beauty of humanity is it's instinct for survival, Sharon thought, and for her to survive now, she would have to end this - march into the kitchen and tell Brenda to leave - as quickly as she'd rip off a particularly stubborn bandage. She took a calming breath and straightened out her hair - it had to be done, is what she kept telling herself. It had to be done.
It had to be done.
It had to be done.
She walked into the kitchen and watched for a moment, as Brenda sat at the kitchen table. Her kitchen table. She was toying with the stem of a half-empty wineglass and a plate of crumbs were to her left. She seemed as deep in thought as the other woman was. It had to be done.
"Why do you do that?" Brenda asked, looking up suddenly.
"Do what?"
"Watch me like that?"
"It's the only time when you're quiet." Sharon answered, walking past the island and pouring herself a glass of wine.
"Where's Laura?"
"She's gone out. I'm sorry about that, I really didn't know she'd be stopping by."
"Is everything alright?"
"I hope so. I think so. I hope so."
"She looks a lot like you."
"Not really, she looks like her dad, she just has my colouring. Adam, he looks like me."
Brenda turned to look at her, leaning against the counter, her wine glass resting gently in her hand elegantly. "Long day."
"Mmmmm." Sharon murmured.
"Nice whoopie pies."
"Thank you."
"You may want to try just a dash of ginger next time, it really makes the cinnamon kick." Brenda suggested, pushing a crumb down onto her fingertip then popping it into her mouth.
"I'll keep that in mind." Sharon responded, distracted.
"It's mama's secret ingredient with anything banana. 'Brenda Leigh,' she would say, 'always, always, always add just a dash of ginger to your cinnamon, it's the honey to your bee.' to which I remind her, 'Mama, I never bake, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind.'"
"You should leave." Sharon announced abruptly.
"I should." Brenda agreed, not moving. "You should sit down."
"This is never going to work out."
"It's not." Brenda agreed with her.
"So you should leave."
"You should sit down."
"I don't want to sit down!"
"And I don't want to leave! I want to talk to you and it's hard with you all the way over there. Why are you all the way over there?"
"Because I'm waiting for you to change your mind." Sharon admitted, taking a sip of her wine.
Brenda pushed back her chair and made her way slowly towards Sharon who set down her glass and crossed her arms defensively across her body, her eyes steeled in readiness. Brenda had seen this this look, it was the same look that her suspects had, daring her to unravel their secrets. She could beat them at their game, and she could beat Sharon, even if Sharon's game was self-defence.
"Don't make me fish my glasses out of my purse." Brenda began, trying the humorous route. If the other woman expected a battle, she would surprise her with a touch of humanity.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Sharon lied, trying to force her lips back down from the smile they curved into.
"I'm pretty sure you do, Captain Raydor." Brenda teased gently, stepping close enough to the other woman that she could feel the heat pass between their bodies. "You have a hard time saying no to me when I wear those. You always have." She looked up into the other woman's eyes - it was the first time she'd really looked into them, carefully and calmly under the light - every exchange between them had been in the dark, or in a crowd. She could see that the defense was thin, it was the terror, the trepidation, the fear clouding the emerald green into something smokey that really shone through. For once, the other woman looked her age. She wonders if Sharon had looked like this when she kissed her for the first time; or when she held her hand in the elevator. She doesn't know. She didn't bother to look, or to check, she simply acted, taking charge of the situation, acting without thinking.
She doesn't know.
This is a curious position to be in for Brenda - her job is to find out what she doesn't know, to ask questions and to discover why people have done what they've done. It occurs to her that she hasn't looked at her self, or her life like that in a very long time. Why didn't she leave? And why did Sharon look so very scared? Could it be she cared? That they both cared very deeply about what was going on? Stranger things had happened in the world, hadn't they? One day man decided to deep fry a Twinkie and it was a good day, one night she showed up on Sharon Raydor's doorstep and kissed her - weren't they on the same level of crazy? She raises a hand and runs it through Sharon's hair - it's soft and smooth, it just flows effortlessly between her fingers. It was different than every other partner she'd ever had. It was confusing to her, reminding her of being 15 and innocent, running her hands through her friend Jenny's hair trying to get it to lie just so so she could braid it, but also being new and exciting and just a little bit dangerous. Sharon Raydor had the ability to be dangerous - she knew it from the first time she saw her across the lobby of headquarters, and she knew it now.
Then it happens - suddenly.
Sharon's hands are on her face and their lips are pressed together. She can taste the bitterness of the wine, and the slickness of lipstick coming off the other woman's lips, but she can also feel the warm wetness of her tongue and the urgency and the ferociousness as Sharon's mouth quickly dominated her. It was so different from their first kiss, where Brenda had pounced on her, unexpectedly and Sharon received, standing there stunned. This is what she wanted, has wanted. Brenda remembers her earlier thought - that it seemed that she was constantly watching her life unfold from outside of herself. She watches as she pushes the other woman back with her lips, her body until the taller woman is pressed against the counter and Brenda's body. Brenda can hardly believe this is happening - that she's kissing Sharon Raydor like this, with all the passion and desire that she has.
Sharon lets go of Brenda and pulls back just long enough to lift herself so she's sitting on the counter and quickly returns to kissing the younger woman, now nestled between her legs. In the back of her mind, she can hear herself screaming to stop but she couldn't. She chooses to focus on the soft murmurs escaping from their lips, the gasps, the hisses of breath - the sounds echoing in the silent kitchen. The second that Brenda ran her hands through her hair, the tenuous grasp she had held on her emotions for the other woman snapped. She had fought back the urge to kiss her the first time, and to take her hand in the elevator, to go into the other woman's house, she had denied herself countless times when it came to Brenda that she just couldn't do it anymore. It was going to hurt when this ended - because it was going to end, and poorly. It seemed pain was the only option when it came to an element as volatile as Brenda Leigh Johnson. Wasn't that what life was all about, Sharon thought as she gave herself over to the kiss, pain?
Rating: PG-13
Ship: Brenda/Sharon
Disclaimer: Not mine; never were! No copyright infringement intended. Laura's my own, but she's not a major character.
Summary: With Fritz gone, and with Will warning Brenda her job's not as secure as she thinks, Brenda's world is falling apart. Her growing attraction to Sharon Raydor, isn't helping any.
Previous Chapters ( One) ( Two) ( Three) ( Four) ( Five) ( Six) ( Seven) ( Eight) ( 9[a])
Continued from [9a]
"Now, it's been a while since I brushed up on my police hierarchy, but doesn't a Chief outrank a Captain?" Laura teased, finishing the last of her food.
"Yes it does." Sharon answered her daughter wearily.
"So, does that mean you're dating your boss?"
"Just get over here!" She wrapped her arms around her daughter and gave her a proper hug. It had been too long since she'd seen her. She knew they saw each other over the holidays but that was so short, and the kids all had their own activities going. It was still shocking to think of her kids as people, not just her kids who used to lisp and cry and walk around with their underwear over their pants. "What are you doing here?"
"Would you believe I missed my mommy?" Laura asked, batting her eyelashes.
"Bull." She set forth her patented Raydor gaze on her daughter - people often wondered where she learned and perfected it - it was years of negotiating the truth with her children. Cracking the hardest criminal was nothing compared to cracking her children when they were younger, neither confessing to who broke the lamp (or when they were older, took the bottle of scotch). She watched her daughter squirm - she was always easier to read than Adam - just another moment and...
"Whoopie Pies?! Sharon Marie Raydor - you made Whoopie Pies?!" Brenda called out from the kitchen, interrupting the moment. "Banana foopie fies?" She continued, her mouth obviously full of the cakey, creamy goodness. Damn - why was that woman ALWAYS ruining her interrogations?
"Marie? We're on a middle name basis already?" Laura was smart, she took the out and gained the upper hand in her negotiations with her mother, "Should I start getting used to calling her mommy?"
"Cute." Sharon replied, watching her daughter's smile play out - she realized, truly, what it meant to be on the receiving end of the Raydor smirk - she didn't like it.
"I like to think so, listen -" A honk came from outside, "That's Julie, we're going out for some coffee. Don't wait up." Laura leaned over and gave her mom a quick peck on the cheek. "And we'll talk tomorrow. Don't worry - it's all good. I hope."
Sharon watched her daughter bound out the house, leaving her alone in the dark hallway. She waited for her world to slow back down to its usual speed, but it never came. Brenda was still here - in her kitchen - and she didn't know how to get her to leave. How do you tell your boss, 'I'm sorry, but you're entirely too straight for my own good, leave now so I can be miserable alone'? Because, as tactless as that was, it was the truth. Despite the blond's confession about wanting to kiss her, and that they were inches away from it earlier - it was never going to happen. It just wasn't. Sharon wasn't dumb, she knew exactly how this would play out - Brenda would have fun, or not, and would go back to Fritz (whom she actually really liked - he was not at all the type of man she'd expected when she first met him), or not - but either way, it would end and it would be messy and it would hurt. But that's what life was, wasn't it, pain? She certainly learned that the hard way when her husband had passed away - Jamie was the love of her life, he still was - and when he died suddenly, without any warning, with two young kids to take care of, she was left alone and in pain. She couldn't understand why the world kept turning when hers had ended - but it revived itself, slowly and surely. The beauty of humanity is it's instinct for survival, Sharon thought, and for her to survive now, she would have to end this - march into the kitchen and tell Brenda to leave - as quickly as she'd rip off a particularly stubborn bandage. She took a calming breath and straightened out her hair - it had to be done, is what she kept telling herself. It had to be done.
It had to be done.
It had to be done.
She walked into the kitchen and watched for a moment, as Brenda sat at the kitchen table. Her kitchen table. She was toying with the stem of a half-empty wineglass and a plate of crumbs were to her left. She seemed as deep in thought as the other woman was. It had to be done.
"Why do you do that?" Brenda asked, looking up suddenly.
"Do what?"
"Watch me like that?"
"It's the only time when you're quiet." Sharon answered, walking past the island and pouring herself a glass of wine.
"Where's Laura?"
"She's gone out. I'm sorry about that, I really didn't know she'd be stopping by."
"Is everything alright?"
"I hope so. I think so. I hope so."
"She looks a lot like you."
"Not really, she looks like her dad, she just has my colouring. Adam, he looks like me."
Brenda turned to look at her, leaning against the counter, her wine glass resting gently in her hand elegantly. "Long day."
"Mmmmm." Sharon murmured.
"Nice whoopie pies."
"Thank you."
"You may want to try just a dash of ginger next time, it really makes the cinnamon kick." Brenda suggested, pushing a crumb down onto her fingertip then popping it into her mouth.
"I'll keep that in mind." Sharon responded, distracted.
"It's mama's secret ingredient with anything banana. 'Brenda Leigh,' she would say, 'always, always, always add just a dash of ginger to your cinnamon, it's the honey to your bee.' to which I remind her, 'Mama, I never bake, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind.'"
"You should leave." Sharon announced abruptly.
"I should." Brenda agreed, not moving. "You should sit down."
"This is never going to work out."
"It's not." Brenda agreed with her.
"So you should leave."
"You should sit down."
"I don't want to sit down!"
"And I don't want to leave! I want to talk to you and it's hard with you all the way over there. Why are you all the way over there?"
"Because I'm waiting for you to change your mind." Sharon admitted, taking a sip of her wine.
Brenda pushed back her chair and made her way slowly towards Sharon who set down her glass and crossed her arms defensively across her body, her eyes steeled in readiness. Brenda had seen this this look, it was the same look that her suspects had, daring her to unravel their secrets. She could beat them at their game, and she could beat Sharon, even if Sharon's game was self-defence.
"Don't make me fish my glasses out of my purse." Brenda began, trying the humorous route. If the other woman expected a battle, she would surprise her with a touch of humanity.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Sharon lied, trying to force her lips back down from the smile they curved into.
"I'm pretty sure you do, Captain Raydor." Brenda teased gently, stepping close enough to the other woman that she could feel the heat pass between their bodies. "You have a hard time saying no to me when I wear those. You always have." She looked up into the other woman's eyes - it was the first time she'd really looked into them, carefully and calmly under the light - every exchange between them had been in the dark, or in a crowd. She could see that the defense was thin, it was the terror, the trepidation, the fear clouding the emerald green into something smokey that really shone through. For once, the other woman looked her age. She wonders if Sharon had looked like this when she kissed her for the first time; or when she held her hand in the elevator. She doesn't know. She didn't bother to look, or to check, she simply acted, taking charge of the situation, acting without thinking.
She doesn't know.
This is a curious position to be in for Brenda - her job is to find out what she doesn't know, to ask questions and to discover why people have done what they've done. It occurs to her that she hasn't looked at her self, or her life like that in a very long time. Why didn't she leave? And why did Sharon look so very scared? Could it be she cared? That they both cared very deeply about what was going on? Stranger things had happened in the world, hadn't they? One day man decided to deep fry a Twinkie and it was a good day, one night she showed up on Sharon Raydor's doorstep and kissed her - weren't they on the same level of crazy? She raises a hand and runs it through Sharon's hair - it's soft and smooth, it just flows effortlessly between her fingers. It was different than every other partner she'd ever had. It was confusing to her, reminding her of being 15 and innocent, running her hands through her friend Jenny's hair trying to get it to lie just so so she could braid it, but also being new and exciting and just a little bit dangerous. Sharon Raydor had the ability to be dangerous - she knew it from the first time she saw her across the lobby of headquarters, and she knew it now.
Then it happens - suddenly.
Sharon's hands are on her face and their lips are pressed together. She can taste the bitterness of the wine, and the slickness of lipstick coming off the other woman's lips, but she can also feel the warm wetness of her tongue and the urgency and the ferociousness as Sharon's mouth quickly dominated her. It was so different from their first kiss, where Brenda had pounced on her, unexpectedly and Sharon received, standing there stunned. This is what she wanted, has wanted. Brenda remembers her earlier thought - that it seemed that she was constantly watching her life unfold from outside of herself. She watches as she pushes the other woman back with her lips, her body until the taller woman is pressed against the counter and Brenda's body. Brenda can hardly believe this is happening - that she's kissing Sharon Raydor like this, with all the passion and desire that she has.
Sharon lets go of Brenda and pulls back just long enough to lift herself so she's sitting on the counter and quickly returns to kissing the younger woman, now nestled between her legs. In the back of her mind, she can hear herself screaming to stop but she couldn't. She chooses to focus on the soft murmurs escaping from their lips, the gasps, the hisses of breath - the sounds echoing in the silent kitchen. The second that Brenda ran her hands through her hair, the tenuous grasp she had held on her emotions for the other woman snapped. She had fought back the urge to kiss her the first time, and to take her hand in the elevator, to go into the other woman's house, she had denied herself countless times when it came to Brenda that she just couldn't do it anymore. It was going to hurt when this ended - because it was going to end, and poorly. It seemed pain was the only option when it came to an element as volatile as Brenda Leigh Johnson. Wasn't that what life was all about, Sharon thought as she gave herself over to the kiss, pain?