Breaking Apart
Her hand was cold in his, even colder now than it had been hours ago, when he had knelt next to her as the light had left her once sparkling eyes. She had died protecting her chosen son, taking a bullet for the boy she had claimed as hers, the boy she had loved from the moment he had moved into her life. Andy had been too late to save her; just in time to hear her say his name one more time. Early enough to reassure her that Rusty was all right, to tell her that he loved her very much. He had been there when she had slipped away, and he had not left her side ever since.
Provenza had tried to lead him away when they had loaded the gurney into the ambulance, but he had held on to her hand. Morales had attempted to convince him to leave once she was wheeled into his morgue, but Andy could not stand the idea of leaving her alone in that cold and sterile place. He had watched them prepare her body, and he continued to sit with her afterwards. The thought of his love being wrapped in plastic and stored in a fridge until it was time for her to be buried was unbearable to him. He would continue to sit with her until it was time to let her go. How he would deal with doing that, with surrendering her to the cold, hard ground, he did not know. Sharon Raydor had held his heart in her hands while she was alive, and she would take it with her to her grave.
