"News travels fast," Michelle commented.
Zoe smiled. "Departmental grapevine operates at supersonic speeds. For what it's worth, most officers think it's smart positioning of valuable assets." Her expression softened. "And some of us were taking bets about you two since week two of your undercover op. Most convincing couple I've ever seen."
They followed her into the elevator, Jenna hyperaware of Michelle's presence beside her.
"Apparently we weren't as subtle as we thought," Jenna murmured once Zoe had exited.
"Law enforcement officers are trained observers," Michelle replied, though a hint of color had appeared on her cheekbones.
The elevator reached the ground floor, and they stepped out together. Through the precinct's glass doors, afternoon sunlight beckoned. They would leave separately—Michelle to physical therapy, Jenna to complete paperwork—but would reconnect at Michelle's apartment for dinner.
"Special Investigations," Michelle said as they paused in the lobby. "Your experience will be invaluable to Hodges' team."
"And you'll revolutionize Interagency Operations," Jenna responded. "Though I expect you'll be counting the days until field clearance."
Michelle's lips curved in a faint smile. "Six weeks, four days according to Dr. Hassan's latest assessment."
"Dinner at seven?" Michelle asked, her voice dropping slightly.
"I'll bring dessert," Jenna confirmed.
They parted ways at the precinct steps, their professional paths diverging while their personal journey continued uninterrupted. For the first time since the operationconcluded, their future—both professional and personal—had clear direction, with boundaries that protected rather than constrained what they were building together.
Two months after the operation concluded, Phoenix Women's Collective headquarters stood empty, yellow police tape still marking certain doorways though most of the evidence had already been collected. Jenna ducked beneath the tape at the entrance, sign-in clipboard in hand as Michelle followed, her movements more fluid now that physical therapy had restored significant mobility to her left arm.
"Feels strange to be back," Jenna said, her voice echoing in the abandoned foyer where they'd once been greeted as Michelle Rodriguez and Jenna Wolfe, aspiring members of the organization's inner circle.
Michelle nodded, her eyes scanning the space with professional assessment. "The DA wanted final walkthrough documentation before the building is released back to the property management company."
But this wasn't just about documentation. They both knew it was about closure and confronting the physical space where their pretense had gradually transformed into something genuine.
The Victorian mansion's grandeur remained, though evidence markers and fingerprint dust marred its previously immaculate surfaces. They moved through the ground floor methodically, noting areas where evidence had been collected, verifying that nothing had been overlooked.
In the workshop room where they'd first infiltrated the organization, Jenna paused. "This is where Dr. Novak had us share our relationship fears," she said quietly. "I told you I worried you'd eventually outgrow me."
Michelle's expression softened. "And I said I worried I couldn't give you what you deserved."
"Neither of us was entirely acting," Jenna observed.
"No," Michelle agreed. "That was the first moment I realized how dangerous the operation could become—not physically, but emotionally."
They continued to the secure conference room on the third floor, where they'd witnessed the planning session that had confirmed PWC's criminal activities. The electronic equipment had been removed, leaving only empty mounting brackets on the walls.
"I keep thinking about the legitimate members," Jenna said as they documented the space. "Women who joined because they genuinely believed in empowerment and advocacy. They lost something too when we brought down the PWC."
Michelle considered this, her expression thoughtful. "The organization did real good alongside the criminal activities. That's what made their cover so effective."
"And what makes me feel conflicted about the relationships I formed here," Jenna admitted. "Some of those women trusted me, shared personal stories, and believed we were building something positive together."
"The necessary deception of undercover work," Michelle said, understanding in her voice. "It never gets easier."
They moved to Nicole's former office, where filing cabinets stood empty, their contents now residing in evidence storage. Jenna ran her fingertips along the desk where Nicole had interviewed her about the PWC's mission and where she'd gathered intelligence about Beatrice Leblanc's connection to the organization.
"Three years ago, I worked an operation infiltrating a drug distribution network in Coastal Heights," Jenna said, the memory surfacing unexpectedly. "Spent five months befriending the distributor's girlfriend. She confided in me about her dreams, her struggles with addiction, her hopes for her future."She paused, the old guilt resurfacing. "When the arrests happened, the look on her face when she realized who I really was. I still see it sometimes."
Michelle moved closer, not quite touching her but offering presence. "The psychological toll of deep cover is something they never adequately prepare you for at the Academy."
"How do you reconcile it?" Jenna asked. "The genuine connections formed under false pretenses?"
