Gifts
By Kadi
Rated: K+
A/N: Let's just pretend everything after the wedding that happened… went the way we would have preferred, and not the way it aired. I haven't forgotten about the other stories, but RL is incredibly busy right now. I had a few minutes, and this idea stuck my head while I was shopping for my dad's Father's Day gift. Oh right, I am a little out of practice, I should tell you that yes, this is a cheesy Father's Day story. Enjoy!
Special thanks to my awesome beta, I think I caught all the errors, but if I didn't, I know I will be told about it. Why don't you hang on to them, consider it a gift from me to you.
She wasn't sure what had caught her attention, or why that morning seemed different than any other. It was just a Wednesday, and while she poured her coffee and looked around the interior of her home, Sharon wondered what it was that was sticking out, piquing her curiosity.
Andy was standing at the breakfast bar, as he usually did, a cup of coffee in hand while he sorted through the previous day's mail. In the early days of their cohabitation it would have earned him a sigh and a roll of her eyes. The mail belonged on the desk, and if he really insisted on sorting through it elsewhere, he could do so while seated on the sofa. No, Andy preferred to do it while standing in the kitchen, drinking the coffee that he really shouldn't have, and bringing to her life and their home the sense of who he was, rather than who she expected him to be.
It was just an example of one of the many small things that had changed when they started living together, a routine that she became accustomed to in the weeks and months that followed. No, this was no different than any other morning where her husband was concerned. She took a sip from her cup and tilted her head to one side, considering. Something was different, and while she couldn't put her finger on it yet, she was certain that it would come to her.
For now, though, she pushed it aside and moved across the kitchen. It was going to be another busy day, and they didn't really have time for her to get lost in her own thoughts. Sharon laid a hand against his back as she moved past him, stopping to stand within arm's reach and in front of where he had left the cereal and a carton of milk beside a pair of bowls. Her hand slid across his back and she hummed in greeting. "Anything interesting?"
"More of the usual." He took another sip of his coffee as he lifted envelopes, casually dropping them into a pile on the granite counter top. "Heart bill, doctor bill, hospital statement, oh look, the warranty is out on one of the cars," he waggled the envelope at her, "they want us to get a new one."
She laughed when he rolled his eyes and dropped it with the others. "At least they're both still beating," she reminded him, lips curving up at the corners. It had been an interesting year, to be certain, and not one of their better, but they had both come out of it alive. With his heart attack and her own cardiac issues, they had both spent several months keeping the cardiac group at Cedars well employed, and if nothing else they were both living examples of the in sickness and in health portion of their wedding vows.
"Truer words." Andy toasted her with his coffee cup. Then he took another long sip before holding it in front of him and gesturing with it. "I'm not going to complain about the end result, but the vultures aren't finished getting their piece of us." He'd almost lost her, and while the insurance had paid its part, there were still a few lingering costs. He didn't care. He'd give them everything he had, for this, this moment right here, and all the others like it. They had to reevaluate a few things. They both retired. Sharon out of necessity, and Andy had followed; it just wasn't the same without her, and whatever time they had left, he wanted to spend it with her. In that moment, when her eyes were sparkling happily at him, and her skin was carrying a healthy glow, it was worth it. It was more than worth it.
"Hm." She cradled her cup in her hands. "No, I suppose they aren't." In the grander scheme of things, it was a small price to pay for the life that they were living now. It was different, but she found that despite her misgivings at the start, it was no less fulfilling. She had not expected Andy to retire with her, although Sharon conceded that was a mistake on her part.
After the lobbying, sulking, and downright complaining that he had done to keep his job after his heart attack, she never expected that Andy would hand in his retirement papers alongside hers. She hadn't asked, but she didn't try to dissuade him either. At the time, she just didn't have the energy for it. She was too busy holding on to whatever life she had left, but she was able to acknowledge later that retiring was Andy's way of doing the same thing. Supporting her had not meant going to work everyday, only taking off for her doctor's appointments and tests, and keeping her apprised of how their team was doing in her absence. No, that wasn't Andy. It wasn't the man he was, and amusingly enough, the reason she had fallen so deeply for him in the first place was due to just how caring and loyal he was.
For Andy, taking care of her had meant being there. Not just reminding her to take her medication, or driving her all over the city, or carrying her when she was simply too weak to stand. He had done all of that, but anyone would offer that kind of physical assistance. The simple fact of it was that Andy knew her, better than she knew herself at times. He was there to listen. He took the brunt of her frustration, and yes, sometimes her anger. He let her cry and rage, and there were days when she had been a total and complete bitch, but he had taken it all with a grace and a patience that no one else would ever imagine that he could possess. He held her, he prayed with her, and he watched over her kids.
It wasn't only her that had taken her fear and frustration out on Andy. Her kids, all three of them, had at some point during those long months used Andy as their emotional punching bag. He let them. He let Ricky blame him for not taking care of her well enough, and he bore the burden of Rusty's selfishness. For Emily he drove late nights and early mornings, taking her to and from the airport, and even accepting the presence of Jack when she invited her father to the condo or the hospital because she felt she needed her father's presence to cope with her mother's illness. He answered his phone in the middle of the night when her daughter woke in a panic, triggered by nightmares, and called to check on her mother. He let the kids take over the condo and treat him as a guest in the home that was as much his as any of theirs, and never had a harsh word or look to spare for any of them.
It was not how she imagined their marriage would begin, but they couldn't enjoy the light without the dark. They had gotten through it, and now life continued. They weren't idle. They consulted, for the church and a couple of charitable foundations, and they were considering adding a security firm to that list. It kept them busy enough to feel useful, but it wasn't stressful or consuming. Sharon tilted her head again as she watched her husband lift his cup to his mouth. Her eyes narrowed. She realized what was different.
It was the cup.
She pushed away from the counter she had been leaning against and walked closer to him. He was not holding one of the green coffee mugs, as he normally did. This one was white, plainly shaped, and stood out amongst the rest of her carefully chosen kitchenware. "What is that?"
His brows lifted. Andy's dark eyes sparkled back at her. They crinkled a bit at the corners with amusement. "Coffee." He shrugged at her, as if it was obvious. He watched her lips purse and held it in front of him, the cup that had finally drawn her attention. He was rather proud of it. "There was a package with the mail."
"Was there?" She kept her tone carefully curious as she leaned close enough to make out the words that were scripted across the side of his new prize.
Happy Father's Day. From the kid you inadvertently inherited when you decided to shack up with my mom.
"Andy!" He snorted a quiet laugh in response and her gaze lifted, eyes wide and a bit horrified, to look at his amused expression. "Where did that come from?"
"Ricky." He shrugged a single shoulder, as if it was obvious that only her eldest son could be the culprit. "There was a card too." He jerked his head toward the counter, where the card was on display.
"Oh my god." She lifted it up, feeling slightly mortified already. She was hoping they had put that horrible holiday behind them. He had gotten a card from his own kids, obviously signed by Nicole, and rather generic if she was honest about it. Andy hadn't said anything, but she knew it stung. He went through the day as he usually did, without mentioning it, but she had watched him glance hopefully at the phone every time it rang. They hadn't called. Emily had, but her daughter was unerringly polite, just as she had raised her to be. Just as Sharon thought that she had raised all of them to be.
Ricky wouldn't call on Father's Day; it was a hard day for him, for his sister too. Neither of them expected any kind of acknowledgement from her children on that particular day, but it had been kind of Emily to call, and she knew that Andy appreciated it. Rusty hadn't said anything, but it wasn't callous disregard or negligence on his part. It just wasn't a day that he ever had to mark before. He never had a father, or a stepfather for that matter. It was a non-issue, where her children were concerned. That was the previous weekend, however, and Sharon was glad to have put it behind them.
Or so she thought.
She turned the card over in her hands. It was made of a thick stationary, and as she examined the back, she realized that it was not store bought. Ricky would have made it, just as he did with the cards he sent for her birthday and other occasions. What else could she expect from her darling little computer whiz. Sharon flipped it back over in her hands and read the front. My wife's kid went shopping and all I got was this stupid cup. Sharon fought the urge to cringe as she opened it. The message inside was handwritten, and even if he hadn't already told her that Ricky was responsible, she would recognize her son's slanting, messy handwriting. "I don't know much about this day, because mine never gave me a reason to need a day to show my appreciation. I saw the cup while I was picking up groceries, and I realized I was getting the vegan spread you introduced me to when I was staying there a few months ago."
Sharon sighed quietly. Ricky had practically moved in with them for a few weeks, during the worst part of her illness. He crashed on her sofa, worked from the condo or the hospital waiting room, and refused to go home until he knew that she was going to be okay. She hated that any of them had gone through so much because of her, and there was much of it that she still didn't know about, obviously, but it seemed that it was not only she and Andy that were stronger for it. She chewed on the corner of her lip as she continued reading, feeling both saddened and grateful at the same time. "I thought it was funny, and I knew that you would appreciate it. I bought it on impulse, but I now that I think about it, I can do better than a stupid cup. The real gift is in the little envelope. I have a reason now. Thank you for taking care of her. ~Ricky."
Sharon looked up at him again, eyes a little moist, but even more curious now. "What did he send?"
Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope that had been tucked into the card. He put the cup down, but only to slide the tickets out of it. There were two of them. "Club seating, behind the dugout." They were better than skybox tickets, and harder to come by. He knew exactly who he was going to take, and the way her eyes were lighting up was an even better gift. Andy wiggled them at her. "Got plans for Saturday?"
Sharon tapped the card against her palm. "I think I can clear my calendar," she hedged. She took a step toward him; the corners of her mouth were twitching toward a smile. "You understand, of course, now that he's claimed you, you're going to have to wear that hideously ugly tie that he got you for Christmas."
Andy winced. He tucked the tickets away again, for safekeeping, and slipped them back into his pocket. "I guess it's a good thing I don't have to wear the suits much anymore." Only when they met with potential clients, or when they went to mass. His daily attire was far more casual now, sweaters or a plain button down. Andy slipped his arm around her when she was standing close enough and pulled her to him. "It has snowflakes on it," he groused, as if that was reason enough for it to be lost in the back of their closet and forgotten.
"Yes, I know." She smiled indulgently. Her son had a horrible sense of style, and his self-cut hair was a perfect example of that. Sharon wound her arms around his middle and leaned against him. "We'll find a suitable occasion," she promised, and since she already knew she would be seeing this coffee cup on a regular basis, she would be sure to share pictures of him wearing the hideous tie. Sharon tipped her head back and studied him. She had a feeling he was prouder of the coffee mug than he was the tickets. Warmth had her smile softening. "I know it isn't the same, and not how you wanted it, but maybe you should see if Charlie or Nicole want to go with you."
"Nope." He could say that he was used to it by now, but being treated as a second thought by his kids would always bother him. He was starting to understand that he didn't deserve it, though. Whatever mistakes he made, he paid for them. He couldn't keep living his life in that shadow, at some point he just had to move on. They all did. He'd still be here for them, but he wasn't going to beg for scraps. He deserved more than that, he had more than that, and it was smiling up at him. "Rusty doesn't like baseball, and Ricky is heading up to Seattle this afternoon for work. He's going to be gone until sometime next week." Emily was in Europe with some girlfriends, and so it went without saying that she wasn't an option either. "I'm taking you," he said, "and we're not going to tell either of our doctors about the Dodger dogs or the nachos."
He had already called Ricky. That didn't surprise her. He would have thanked him for the gift, and not wanted to do it in front of her. Not when the two men could get emotional and beat their chests, and avoid her rolling her eyes at them. "I'm not your first choice?" Her lips turned down and she sighed at him, belying the amusement that was still shining in her eyes. "So that's how it's going to be."
"You're always my first choice," he rumbled quietly, "but I wanted him to know it was mutual." He dropped a kiss to her mouth and moved away. He poured cereal for both of them before adding the yogurt, honey, and soy milk that had become their usual breakfast. The heart healthy diet was a pain in the ass. His wife wrapping her arms around him from behind, just for a moment, before leaning against the counter beside him was all the reason he needed to suck it up and deal. He grudgingly accepted it before, but now that she was on the same diet, he embraced it without complaint. Besides, following it without fail now just meant they could indulge on special occasions, like a Saturday spent at the ballpark, without worrying about the consequences. "What's first today?"
Just like that, the subject was closed. Andy wasn't retreating so much as he was regrouping. Sharon accepted her bowl and after retrieving her coffee, she walked to the table. They had a full day planned. "We need to pick up the dry cleaning. You're seeing Dr. Park, and then we've got to swing over for a meeting with the Youth Foundation." That was how they lived their lives now, medical checkups and appointments between meetings and errands. "I really want to dig in to their financials," she continued, mind focusing on the work, "if they are as clean as they look on the surface, we can talk about getting more involved."
They had learned, throughout the course of their careers, that many of the charities and foundations that cropped up at any given time hardly did any of the good they promised. At worst, it was a front for siphoning money. At best, they helped a few people while putting on a decent show for society. The foundation they were investigating had reached out to her after Rusty's story had made the rounds of the news cycles following Phillip Stroh's return and demise. The one perfectly bright moment in her illness was the simple fact that Rusty had been too preoccupied with her to get in the way when the LAPD finally ended that threat. It was over, but not without the news media reiterating Stroh's crimes, capture, and escape. Allison Matthews, the director of the youth foundation had reached out to Sharon on multiple occasions. They had done some preliminary checking, and everything appeared above board with the group home and charity that provided a place for troubled, homeless teenagers. It helped with education and job placement, medical care and counseling.
As it turned out, Ms. Matthews had once been a homeless teenager too. Like Rusty, she had gotten lucky, far luckier than most of the kids that came through her program. She had ended up in the right foster home, at the right time, and had found a family, a home, and a purpose. If her foundation was as clean as it seemed to be, Sharon wanted to take the offer that Ms. Matthews had extended. She would join the board of directors, and bring with her all of her contacts and experience. She knew why the younger woman was being so persistent. She was an excellent get, a retired LAPD Commander with more than thirty years on the force, and a personal understanding of the work the foundation was attempting to do.
"Mike said we should get the financial report this afternoon, tomorrow morning at the latest." They might be retired, but that didn't mean they were cut off from their old team, their friends. Andy sat down beside her at the table, "I spoke to Julio too, he's checking out that place we looked at." Rusty was finally making noises about wanting to move out. He wanted to live closer to the university, now that he was spending all of his time at the library, buried in reading and classes, and living the life of a fully committed law student. They were doing for him as Sharon had done for her other two children, they would help him move and get established, and then they would be nearby if he needed them. It was time, he was ready, and as much as Sharon didn't want to let him go, she was proud of him too. So now they were looking for decently priced apartments, near the university, and in a good neighborhood. That was where Julio came in, he was checking out the neighborhood for them.
"Oh, good." Sharon nodded, acknowledging both items. "We're having dinner with Louis and Patrice tonight," she reminded him. "You are to behave."
"I will if he will." Andy smirked at her. Provenza would give them hell for leaving him alone to deal with all the bullshit and dirtbags, or rather, Provenza would give him hell for it, just as he always did when they got together. Sharon was excused on the basis of almost dying, but almost losing his wife had not pardoned Andy. He would have to hear it. They would fling insults. It would be a good night. "We should swing by that bakery on Vermont Street, they've got those brownie, tart things that she likes."
"Hm." Sharon flashed an indulgent smile at him. "She isn't the only one." He was rather fond of them too, but she picked up her phone and added a reminder that they should stop on their way to dinner. While her calendar was open, she sighed. "I have an appointment at the Convention Center too." There had been another job offer, and while the salary was tempting, the schedule was not. She had taken the meeting to be polite, and because those were contacts she wanted to keep if the Foundation job worked out.
"And you thought retirement would be boring." Andy smirked at her.
"Something like that." She thought she would be losing a piece of herself. It had taken her a while to realize that it was an evolution, not an ending. Existence could be fluid if you allowed it to be. Accepting her circumstances was like accepting her faith; she had to be open to it. It was like Andy's gift, on the surface it may appear churlish, and anyone who didn't know him or Ricky, or understand the similarities in their lives and personalities would completely miss the significance of it. It was an acceptance. Andy was not his father, but he was family, wholly and completely.
If she had to choose, well she wouldn't get the damn flu and the subsequent heart condition in the first placef, but those things aside, she would retire again. Her life had changed, but it was not less than it had been before. It was a gift, not to be displayed like the card that Andy had proudly affixed to the fridge with a magnet, but to be embraced.
~END