None Left To Protest
Chapter 1
I love you with so much of my heart
that none is left to protest
- Much Ado About Nothing (4.1.286-87)
A/N: This is an idea that Kadi219 planted in my head a while ago. Many thanks to her for that and for listening to my whining.
Also big thanks to NarcissaNerea for the awesome beta job! Still, whatever mistakes you find, they're mine.
It's an AU that explores what might have happened if Sharon had taken that job offer she used as a trap for Goldman in season 7 of The Closer.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, not my toys. I don't make any money with this. Too bad, really.
Sharon Raydor was exhausted, and she was frustrated beyond words. She had lost count of how many times she had checked her watch in the last hour. The plastic chair she sat in was uncomfortable, and her body ached in ways she had not felt in years. She shifted in her seat and rolled her shoulders to try and ease the tension in her back muscles. Her feet burned painfully, having been trapped in her fashionable heels for too many hours. A uniformed officer strode towards the row of chairs that was located along the wall at one side of the large room. She straightened a little as she saw the man approach her, assuming that someone was finally ready to help her. At the last moment he focused on the elderly lady next to her.
Sharon did not miss the slight smirk on his face when she sighed in exasperation. The other woman had arrived after her, as had the man they had called before her, and the family before that. She was aware of what was happening. Even though she was no longer a member of the LAPD and had not been for almost six years, they had not forgotten who she was. Before she had taken the job at the Los Angeles Convention Center, Sharon had been the head of the LAPD's Force Investigation Division. Many of the officers that were milling around the crowded, loud room she was currently in had gotten to know her in that capacity at some point. Those who had not, had heard the stories from their older colleagues. She was Darth Raydor. She was the Wicked Witch of FID, or she had been before she had retired. That was something no one around here would ever forget.
Sharon recognized some officers. Sergeant Miller had been in her office at least five times over the years. He had a short fuse and a loose fist, and had visited more than a few anger management courses upon her recommendation. There were a few officers who had been involved in shootings at some point, some had been accused of roughing up suspects or getting into fights with colleagues. All of that had been routine for her, part of her daily work for as long as she could remember. It had never been personal for her, no matter how many officers had accused her of that.
Apparently, those old grudges were not forgotten. She wondered how long they would keep her waiting before someone would finally decide that their point had been made. It had occurred to her that she could make a call and file a complaint. There were still some people around the department who would care about the way she was being treated, but that was not her style. They were trying to see how far they could push her; they always did. She had always had more patience. At some point they would have to give in. She would wait.
Over two hours later, Sharon finally stepped out of the building, leaving the crowded halls of Central Division with its oppressive smell of too many warm bodies in wet clothes behind her. It was raining heavily, and she stopped in the entrance to search the street for a cab. Getting a taxi was not easy on a good day, but almost impossible when it was raining. Not for the first time did she think that it might be a good idea to sign up for this Uber thing Emily kept talking about, but Sharon had never felt it necessary. She had a car and drove almost everywhere, and the days when she would go out with friends and drink too much to drive herself home were long gone.
When she spotted a vacant cab and rushed towards the curb with her arm held up, she cursed quietly as thick drops beat down on her. She narrowly missed stepping into a puddle and was still looking down when a large wall of dirty water came at her and soaked her from head to toe. The taxi had been about to pull up in front of her, but at the last minute the driver had decided to take a couple of younger women farther down the street instead. He had hit the accelerator, speeding through a gigantic puddle right in front of her in his hurry.
Sharon yelped in shock as the cold water hit her, gasping for air and blinking rapidly to clear her vision. For a long moment she simply stood there, her arms held slightly away from her body, her eyes closed in disgust as the reality of her situation began to sink in. There was not a single dry thread of fabric left on her body, her hair was soaked and heavy, and her makeup was probably running down her face. She was resigned to walking all the way to Los Feliz, convinced that no taxi driver would stop to give her a ride in her state.
Taking her glasses off to try and stop the rivulets of water running down her forehead and into her eyes, Sharon took a deep breath and let it escape with a sigh. It was already getting dark, and the prospect of walking through the rain for a good two hours was anything but pleasant. She swallowed hard, her eyes burning with suppressed tears. That day could not possibly get any worse, and it was the fitting conclusion of yet another horrible week.
Just as Sharon had turned to start walking down the road towards home, a dark blue Charger pulled up beside her and the passenger side window was rolled down. She sighed once again, expecting some smartass comment from the driver. It would not have been the first time she had been catcalled by some random guy. It was a sad fact of life for any woman in the city, and she was accustomed to ignoring the unwanted attention. It was the familiar voice and the title she had not heard directed at her in years that made her stop and peer into the car.
"Hey, Captain," Andy Flynn yelled from where he was leaning over the center console of his car to get a better look at the pitiful sight of a very wet Sharon Raydor. He had not seen her since before she had resigned from the LAPD to move on to greener pastures. Some security job, if he remembered correctly. It had surprised him when Taylor had told them about her plans, all too gleeful to have some juicy gossip to share with them, but he had not thought about it all that much. Many cops took their pensions and found other occupations at some point.
Sometimes he had wondered about her. When Provenza had shot the guy who had threatened their material witness and Sergeant Davis had annoyed his partner with his stupid questions, or when Julio had been suspected of killing his mother's caregiver and Staples had hung around their murder room like a bad smell for two days. On those occasions he had almost wished that she had not left. As annoying as Raydor had been, her little minions were far worse. At least she had a sense of humor and a nice pair of legs.
At that moment, however, she did not appear to be particularly amused. Not that he could blame her. He had seen the idiot cab driver give her an unwanted shower from where he had waited at the red light a little farther down the road, and when he had recognized the unfortunate woman, he decided to see if he could help out.
He saw her grimace when she realized who he was and suppressed a smile. Yeah, they hadn't liked each other very much, he thought. Despite that, Andy was not prepared to leave her to fend for herself. Ignoring her expression and the forced civility when she returned his greeting, he leaned over to open the passenger side door.
"Get in, I'll give you a ride," he offered. While she took a few seconds to think about his unexpected kindness, he reached back to find the old blanket he knew was somewhere on the floor behind his seat. He had used it only a few days before when he had taken his step-grandsons for a picnic to the park. With a little grunt he managed to tug it out from under whatever was weighing it down. When Raydor stepped forward to climb into his car, he held the blanket out to her.
"Here, put this around your shoulders. You've got to be freezing," he said kindly. Fall was fast approaching, and the rain and wind had chased away the heat of the day.
She took it with a grateful smile and wrapped it around herself, then she slid into the seat beside him and closed the door. He thought that he heard a soft sigh of relief when she stretched her legs out in front of her. He expected her to take off her wet shoes, but she did not seem to be comfortable enough to do it in his presence.
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate this very much," she said once she had buckled up and leaned back, tugging the edges of the blanket around her more tightly.
"Don't mention it," he replied gruffly. He quickly adjusted the temperature controls, making sure that she would be comfortable, before he looked over at her. "So, where are we going?"
Sharon gave him her address while he tried to merge back into flowing traffic and point the car in the direction of Los Feliz. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her picking at a loose thread at the edge of the blanket, her fingers restless where they lay in her lap. The silence that followed quickly grew uncomfortable as neither one of them knew how to break it.
It was not as if they had ever been particularly close. He had known her almost since she had joined the force, and they had spent some time together when they had all been young, when he had been friends of some sort with her husband, and their boys had played ball together. Then Jack had left and she had gone over to the dark side of the force. They had lost touch, and annoyance and resentment had taken the place of what might have become an easy friendship.
During the time that she had audited his division a few years earlier, he had slowly grown to respect her and the work she did. He didn't necessarily like it, especially when she followed them around like a hall monitor, but she had done it to save their collective asses. He could appreciate that. And then she had vanished, seemingly fed up with the way she had been treated over the years. At least that had been the reason Taylor had given them. Now that she was sitting right next to him, his curiosity was hard to suppress. There were so many questions, but he decided to start with the most obvious.
"So, what kind of business could you possibly have with the morons at Central?" His tone was teasing, and there was a little twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Sharon huffed a laugh, only very slightly amused. She remembered all too well what Andy Flynn thought of Central Division, or pretty much any other division in the entire LAPD for that matter. For once, however, she could not find fault with his assessment. During the hours she had been kept waiting, morons was one of the more harmless terms that had gone through her mind.
She hummed as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the headrest. "Someone threw a brick through my windshield. I was trying to get the paperwork out of the way." She did not look at him, not feeling entirely comfortable sharing her most recent problem with a man who was practically a stranger to her. And yet, there was a strange sense of relief in speaking about it.
There was no way she would tell her children about it. She would not worry them with something that did not concern them. They were far enough away for this issue not to touch them, and she wanted that to remain the case. Her husband was gone and had been for several years. She had only a very vague idea where he might be, and even if she knew how to reach him, she would not want to talk to him. She had friends, but they all had their own lives and their own problems, and meeting for a friendly chat over drinks had been the last thing on her mind lately. When she finally made it out of the office at night, Sharon was eager to get home and try to get some sleep.
Next to her, Andy huffed a short laugh. "You're making friends wherever you go, aren't you?"
His tone was dripping with his trademark sarcasm, and its familiarity was strangely comforting. It was something she missed in her new job. The people she worked with at the convention center had a softer, gentler sense of humor than the cops she had spent most of her life with. She often found herself holding back a biting retort at the last moment, fearing that it would be misunderstood by the people surrounding her.
"Are you okay, though?" he added, suddenly serious again. He cast a quick glance over to where she sat, eyes still closed and clutching the ends of the blanket tightly. She looked pale and drawn, thinner than he remembered, and there were dark circles underneath her eyes that were not entirely caused by her smudged makeup. If someone had told him half an hour earlier that he would be genuinely concerned about the Wicked Witch, he would have called them crazy. And yet, here he was, already wondering what he could do to help her.
She finally opened her eyes again and gave him a long, penetrating look, trying to figure out why he cared. In the end, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. With evening rush hour traffic, it would be a while until they made it to her place, and if he really wanted to know, it was as good a way to kill time as any.
"Yes, I'm fine. It seems as if I managed to frustrate someone else with my rules, however." He laughed at that, obviously remembering his own objections to her precious rulebook and the many discussions they had had about it. Her own memories made her smile slightly. They'd had some interesting arguments over the years. It had certainly never been boring when Andy Flynn was around.
"Actually, I think it is more about the fact that my new boss is not a big fan of women in the workplace. Ever since he took over, he has been trying to convince me that I would be better off staying at home. I'm reasonably sure that this is just another way to get me to quit." She shrugged as if everything that had happened over the last weeks did not bother her. It was what she wanted everyone to believe. Most of all, it was what she wanted her boss to believe.
"I guess he doesn't know you very well," Andy replied, not really joking. It had been a while since he had last seen her, but if there was one thing about Sharon Raydor that he would never forget, it was her stubbornness. The harder that jerk pushed her, the harder she would push back. There was no way she would give up. She hummed again, and there was a small smile tugging at her lips, but it seemed half-hearted at best. Despite the brave front she was putting up, he could tell that it was bothering her.
"I guess not. Sometimes I do wonder why I keep doing this, though. I could finally do all the traveling I always dreamed about. I could spend more time with my children. Instead I am fighting an insecure, under qualified man for the right to do my job." She did not look at him. Her gaze was directed at the buildings they were passing by, the people rushing through the rain, the cars by the side of the road. It was the first time she had verbalized these doubts, and why she was doing it with a man she barely knew, who had barely respected her in the past, she did not know.
Andy cast a quick glance in her direction before turning his focus back on the road. "It's what you've done all your life. When was the last time you took more than a week off work?" he asked, a knowing half-smile tugging at his lips.
Sharon was quick to correct his assumption, a smug look on her face when she turned her head towards him. "Actually, I took two weeks off in the spring."
Her protest did not faze him. "And?" His eyebrow was raised in challenge as he waited for her answer. It only took a few heartbeats before she deflated and rolled her eyes.
"I hated it," she confessed. "The first few days were great, but then I thought I would go out of my mind with boredom. There are only so many days you can spend at the beach, reading a book."
His laughter turned her pout into a smile. He, just as most of his colleagues at the LAPD, was as much of a workaholic as Sharon. They always wished for more time off to do the things they liked, to spend time with their families. It was fine as long as there were kids to take care of. They would keep them busy all day long. Once the children were out of the house or too old to want to be around their parents all the time, extended vacations turned into that thing that sounded great in theory. In practice, however, it was a lot of time spent fighting boredom. Traveling was a good idea, too, but doing it alone simply did not appeal to most people.
As for Sharon, she had always imagined that she would do all these things with her husband, that they would go on this adventure of retirement together. It had not worked out that way. He had decided to waste their money and most of his life gambling and drinking. He would rather be with younger, less demanding women instead of his nagging wife. A few years ago, she had granted him his wish. It had taken more than twenty years, but she had finally taken that last step and filed for divorce after he had once again tried to con his way into her heart and her bank account. Now she was free.
It had not really bothered her, being completely alone at last. She had mourned the loss of her marriage many years ago, and while it had hurt to draw that final line, it had also made her feel like she could finally move on. She had two wonderful children and a job that she loved. Her life was good. That was, until a man half her age tried to turn her professional life into a nightmare. Suddenly, going to work every day did no longer fill her with happiness.
"That's enough about me and my problems, though. How have you been, Lieutenant?"
Andy shot her a quick look, raising an eyebrow at her obvious attempt at changing the subject, but in the end he gave in. She had already shared a lot more with him than he would ever have thought possible, so it was not surprising that she would want to divert the conversation away from her personal matters.
For the rest of the drive they kept their conversation to more general topics. Andy updated her on department gossip and the latest development in the race for Assistant Chief Taylor's job. Everyone was still shaken up over his sudden death. The funeral had only been a few weeks before. Sharon told him how much she regretted not having been able to attend, as she had been out of town on business at the time. She might have had her differences with Taylor, but at the end of the day, they were all one family at the LAPD, and they had all known one another for many, many years.
Before they knew it, Andy followed her directions to the guest parking spot of her apartment building and turned off the engine. He got out of the car and opened her door for her, taking her purse out of her hand when she struggled with the blanket.
"I'll walk you up to your door," he offered, as if it was the most natural thing to do. He locked the car and gestured with his hand for her to lead the way. When she remained where she was, giving him an incredulous look, he shrugged. "What? I like that blanket, and I want it back. And don't even think about giving it back now. If you freeze to death on your way up, I'll end up getting in trouble again. So come on. The sooner we move, the sooner we can get you out of those clothes."
Sharon's eyes widened at his words, and it took a moment for Andy to realize what he had said. Tugging at his earlobe, he shrugged and smiled at her sheepishly. "You know what I mean," he grumbled. When she rolled her eyes in response and started moving towards the elevators, he let out a relieved breath. The last thing he wanted was to give her the impression that he was seeing her that way. Although, now that the idea was out there, it was hard to steer his mind away from it. She was a very attractive woman, and when she was not trying to shove the rulebook down his throat, she was pretty good company, too. Shaking his head to dismiss the thoughts creeping into his head, Andy took a few quick steps to close the distance that Sharon had already put between them.
He almost ran into her when, a few yards from his car, Sharon stopped in her tracks just as he had caught up with her. A soft gasp escaped her as she took a step back, bumping into Andy's chest. His hands came up automatically to grasp her upper arms, making sure she would not lose her balance. When he peered over her shoulder, the Lieutenant saw what had unsettled her so much.
On the white wall, about a foot above the sign that read 1109, no doubt indicating the apartment number the parking spot was assigned to, one word was sprayed in large, red letters – SLUT. From Sharon's reaction it was easy to deduce that they were standing in front of her spot and that the word was directed at her. Instinctively, his hand went to his side, resting on the hilt of his weapon, even though the person responsible for the unwelcome message was unlikely to still be around.
Before he had a chance to ask if she was all right, Sharon straightened up and stepped away from him, her shoulders rising and falling visibly as she took a deep breath. He decided to give her another moment to overcome her shock. Hand still on his gun, Andy slowly turned around on the spot, his eyes and ears on the parking garage around him, checking the shadows and corners for anything suspicious. When nothing caught his attention, he walked over to where Sharon was standing, studying the graffiti, his arm reluctantly falling to his side once again.
She carefully touched the disfigured wall, testing whether the paint was still wet. The tip of her finger came away clean, but she still rubbed it against her thumb as if attempting to rid herself of the residue. "I suppose it is safe to say that whoever did this is no longer around," she concluded, her voice low, but with a steely edge to it that was all too familiar to Andy.
He nodded in agreement, but still kept his guard up in case the dirtbag had decided to hang around to see her reaction to his little piece of art. "Do you want to call it in," he asked, already trying to figure out how he could speed things up for her a little bit.
For a long moment Sharon studied the offensive writing, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line as she thought about what she should do next. The thought of spending another few hours waiting for officers who did not like her to do their jobs, of listening to them whispering behind her back, too loud for her to miss, was thoroughly unpleasant. Her feet burned, and her back and head throbbed with a dull ache, making her long for a hot bath to warm and relax her frozen body.
"No, I don't think I will. What is the police supposed to do about this? There will not be any useful fingerprints, and there are no cameras, so it would be close to impossible to identify the person who did this. Anyone can access this garage during the day. For all we know, it has nothing at all to do with me. It could just as well have been a random act by a bored teenager," she reasoned, tugging the blanket a little closer in an effort to keep the cold draft from chilling her even more.
Andy frowned, studying the scene in front of him once more. "Do you think that's likely," he asked, not entirely happy with her decision. He did not like it that someone seemed to be willing to bring whatever grudge they had against her to her doorstep.
"Probably not, but it doesn't matter. I won't be standing out here in the cold for another couple of hours for nothing. I'll call the facility manager tomorrow to ask him to have this removed and that will be it. There is no use in thinking about this any more," she decided, her tone firm and the look she gave him warning him to let it go. He did. Instead he followed her to the door that led to the elevators, casting one last glance behind him before they rounded a corner.
When they reached the door to her condo, Sharon removed the blanket from around her shoulders and folded it carefully before handing it back to Andy. "Thank you once again for the ride, Lieutenant. That was very kind of you," she said, smiling up at him, her keys already in her hand.
Andy shrugged her words off, curling his fingers into the rough fabric of the folded blanket to keep them from tugging at his earlobe. "Don't mention it, Captain," he mumbled, suddenly uncertain of how to take his leave. There was a small part of him that wished he did not have to just yet, and it confused him a little.
Sharon was equally at a loss, torn between wanting to be polite and her need for a bath and a change of clothes. She was still somewhat thrown by his unexpected help and the surprisingly pleasant time they had spent together on the way to her place. "I would offer you a cup of coffee, but I should…" She tugged the damp fabric of her jacket away from her body to indicate what she meant.
His grin made the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle and made the brown orbs sparkle, sending another chill down her spine, one that was not at all related to the unfortunate state of her clothing.
"Nah, it's okay. I get it. You're eager to strip and start warming up," he agreed, giving her a wink, indicating that the innuendo was completely intended this time. She hoped that he would not see the blush that suddenly warmed her cheeks in the dim light of the hallway.
Giving him a small smile, she glanced up at him through lowered lashes, her voice deep and husky when she bade him good night. Before she could close the door behind her, his soft voice calling her name stopped her, making her poke her head through the small gap to look at him.
"Promise me to watch your back?" She studied him for a long moment, taking in the sincere concern she saw in his gaze. Then she blinked to tear her eyes away from his, nodding her head in reply.
"Of course," she agreed. "Good night, Andy."
He stared at the closed door for several seconds before he turned around to leave, shaking his head at what had just happened. His partner would think that he had lost his mind if he told him that he had just flirted with Sharon Raydor and that she had flirted back.
As he made his way back to the parking garage, his thoughts returned to Raydor's predicament, wiping the smile off his face. When he passed her parking spot, he took out his phone and quickly took a few photos of the graffiti on the otherwise pristine wall. Even if she did not want to pursue the person responsible, it would not hurt for him to make some discreet inquiries. He would not do anything that would raise any alarms, but it could not hurt to poke around a bit. Maybe he could dig up some dirt on that new boss of hers that she could use against him. He had already outlined his next several steps when he pointed his car towards Valencia, feeling much better about the entire situation.
~TBC~