On Board Conduct Unbecoming

Chapter 1 [That bitch O'Dwyer]

A wild goose chase! I was DELIBERATELY sent to Cedars by Taylor. A deliberate misdirection. I can't PROVE it, but I know it was buying time for Sergeant Gabriel's blood alcohol level to drop. Well, TWO can play at that game CHIEF. Let's see how you film this crime scene WITHOUT civilians permitted.

This is NOT how I saw my 40s. I was supposed to study law. I should be a successful attorney, working reasonable hours. The universe hates me. Instead, I'm the pariah of the LAPD, the bitch everyone avoids at any cost. Yep, been called THAT more times than I can count. It was "that bitch Raydor" for so many years, but it easily transferred to "that bitch O'Dwyer."

Two kids already ahead of their peers and in college by the time I hit 38. I should have listened to my parents, and given Jack a wide berth, but no, I HAD to be right. I knew better. 2 years... that's how long my happily ever after lasted. Just long enough to produce two beautiful children, and for that I will eternally be grateful, but the rest, the universe can shove where the sun doesn't shine. Officially my happily ever after was finally over a few weeks ago. Best decision I ever made was to divorce that jerk, though I wouldn't speak that way of him to my children. I wish I had done it years ago.

Pretending I couldn't care less has become more of a career choice than FID. My mask is finely crafted, and holds up under pressure. What choice did I have? It was that or cry myself to sleep over the fact that I can't walk into a room and find a single person who's happy to see me. FID was my answer to single parenthood with child-friendly hours. Who knew I'd be so good at policing the police?

So here I am, turning 41, alone. It's ok though, I have my mask to wield as a shield. Facetime chats with my children, both across the country, kept me sane today. But I'm facing it now... I'm washed up at 41. There's got to be more life left to live surely. The sausage factory of life must have more in store to churn out, less than half way through (if half way's where I am).

Chief Johnson and her Major Crimes division have become the bane of my existence. The woman is insistent on pulling rank on me, totally ignoring the fact that FID takes precedence over every other division's claim on a scene. She has a great team. Most of them know exactly where the line is, and although they walk right up to it, they stop short of crossing it. Flynn and Provenza have files thicker than a telephone directory, but I've never had to press a charge against either. Up to that line, but never over it. Sanchez has a temper, but has never crossed the line. Chief Johnson herself, however, walks up to it, crosses it, and uses a sledge hammer on the other side. I've tried to tread carefully, because she's attached to Pope, albeit in an unsavoury manner, and tried to keep her out of the frying pan, but she's determined to jump into the fire. Me... the pariah... yes, I'm the one who tries to keep everyone from undue prosecution. Thank God I have my mask.

And now I am in the position where I have to pry into Johnson's personal life and her relationship with Pope. I'll never be accused of sleeping MY way to the top... Hell... I'll never be accused of sleeping with anyone but Jack... and that was 20 years ago! My god it's been THAT long? What's wrong with me? I only stayed legally married because it suited me to wear a wedding ring when I was younger. Now that I have my own identity back, I'm too old for a wedding band to be of much benefit in that regard. Men my age are either married, or as gay as a picnic basket. *Sigh* solo flying for the next 40 to 60 years. Oh what FUN! Thank GOD for my mask.