Cranberry Soda

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm a new writer here to the Major Crimes fandom but I have been writing Fanfics for a while now for CSI:NY. But I jumped over to this amazing show. So here's a little short-story! I hope you enjoy what you read.

Warning: I do apologize but this story contains alcoholism and if you're sensitive to this topic, I do recommend you read no further. And once again, I do apologize.

Disclaimer: Just borrowing toys. I'll put them back. They don't belong to me!

- # MAJOR CRIMES # -

Even on the 18th floor, she could still hear the wailing sirens of the night but somehow, she was thankful for those small breaks in the thick silence. The stillness of her office was deafening. It made her lost in her thoughts, which was a dangerous approach to thinking, as she would always dive too deep into her brain. Looking out the window with her arms cross in her office chair, she could still remember seeing those bodies in the morgue as if it happened ten seconds ago. The memory, the smell, and Morales' description – all so clear and engraved in her head.

It hit her hard. Any case involving the death of innocent children always end up choking her until the lump in her throat forced her to form tears and sometimes it would haunt her during the darkest hours. When these cases came to a close, she would always find herself in her office at the end of the night with her blinds drawn. She would let her tears trickle down her face, leaving small wet trails. Each droplet dried in memoriam of the victims on her sleeve and her hands would gently shake from the adrenaline of the day.

The knock on her door made her thoughts diverge and snap back into focus. She knew whom the knock belonged to by now. At this hour, it was usually him.

"Captain?"

She quickly wipes away a threatening tear in the corner of her eye with an index finger. She then softly clears her throat and blinks a few times to reform her composure before spinning around in her office chair.

"Come in" she says quietly, but she knows he can hear her.

He opens the door slowly and peaks his head in. When he sees her smile softly up at him, he lets his body slide inside and closes the door gently behind him. He notices, but not to his surprise, that her eyes are glossy and slightly rimmed with red. Children had a way of cutting right through her hard exterior and stabbed into her heart, twisting and pulling out just to stab the knife back in. Sometimes it worries him.

"Hey Sharon. It's Friday and Carl's got a fresh catch from the morning for that salmon that you like. What do you say?" He asks, with much enthusiasm in his voice and a crooked grin etched on his face in an attempt to lighten up her mood.

Her hands are still faintly shaking and she tries to stop it by folding her hands on her desk on top of the manila files. She looks at him through her thick lashes and replies, "Sure, Andy. That would be wonderful."

"OK great. I'll grab my coat." He says and was about to turn away from her office before he was stopped mid-way by her sudden response.

"Andy, I'll be a little late. I just have to finish up a few things. Save us a table?"

He didn't even try to protest and he guessed that there were probably a few papers she had to sign but they could've been left for tomorrow or they might be already done. He easily diagnosed the reason for not leaving the office with him. She simply needed time to collect herself from the case because the Sharon he knew always portrayed nothing short of a female warrior. He let a soft smile form across his face as his hand ghosted over the door handle as he said, "I'll see you soon?"

"Of course." She replied, looking up at him with a small upward turn of her lips.

Shrugging off her blazer, she puts on beige, wool pullover she keeps in the backseat of the car and also changes out of her black pumps for a sensible pair of flats. Although she probably looks slightly ridiculous with a wool sweater and a black pencil skirt, she doesn't care at the moment. She just wants to be more comfortable and she doesn't want to bring work to dinner. And right now, she just wants to be with him so she could just stop thinking about today's case. She just wants to leave her bag of burdens in her car, even if it was just for a couple hours and she'll pick them up later. With him. She shakes her head, scoffing at the ridiculousness at the thought of it.

She fingers through her purse, finding her phone tucked behind her wallet and then types Rusty a quick text.

Hi, Rusty. I'll be home a little later tonight. Don't stay up too late.

I'm right, again. Several times a month. Have fun on your 'not-date'.

Rusty!

She chuckles quietly and shakes her head at his wit. She places her phone back in her purse and applies a few dabs of lipstick, pursing her lips as she places the cap back she exits the car, the cold air immediately shocks her as it snakes around her neck. She walks towards the crosswalk and lets out a pent breath into the cold night, watching the puff of air fade into the night as she waits for the cross light to turn

Just dinner. Two friends having dinner. But the thought of him waiting there for her made her unconsciously pick up the pace and caused a slight upturn of her lips. She's not desperate, she never is, never was and never will be but the notion of him patiently waiting for her makes her feel… wanted and maybe even on the verge of being desirable.

Through the restaurant window, she saw him sitting down at their usual table. Their table. She smiled at the thought. Opening the door, she stepped inside and let the delicious aromas wash against her, causing her to realize that in fact she was quite hungry. She walked towards their table and placed a hand on his back, a small gesture to tell him she was here.

"Hey." He says sincerely with a slightly crooked grin on her face and he pushes out his chair to get up. He's exhausted as well, and she could tell but she knows that he wants to be here with her just as much as she wanted to be there with him. It made her stomach flutter – it always does – to see suit jacket gone, the cotton sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. She pressed her lips to suppress a small smile creeping up on her face when she notices that his tie was loosened and she could see the white tee-shirt that lay underneath along with the tiniest peak of a silver chain.

"Hey yourself." She replies, her breath catching slightly in the back of her throat as she sees him rounding the table to stand behind her. She subconsciously smiles at herself as she feels his hands on her shoulder, helping her take off her jacket and placing it behind her on the chair. She feels him push her chair in and she sits. He always does this but when he did it the first time, it had surprised her. She never would've penned him as a traditional gentleman.

Her eyes follow the back of him as he makes his way back to his side of the table but then she hears a child's laughter from the other side of the restaurant ring in her ears. The thoughts of the today were once again prompted in her mind. Her hands were out of sight and he assumed that they were folded in her lap. She was looking out the window for a moment and then her focus came back to the menu in front of her. He loved her in sweaters – it oozed comfort and ease but he knew that right now, it was like a mask for her trouble mind. He knew she was still thinking about the case.

"You did great today."

"Thank you, Andy."

"Hey, I mean it. You did great today."

"It's just so unfair."

"I know, it always is."

She still felt slight pangs of anxiety that sprang through her and she tried her hardest to breathe. But in all honestly, it was hard to get her mind off the tragedy. Three bodies. Three names to be written on polished rocks. Three new, concrete angels. So she looked away from the window and looked at his face for a small fraction of a moment and smiled softly. She saw him catch her smile and she got a crooked grin in return. She hated that grin, it always managed to go weak and it reminded her that she was a woman. His simple presence once again managed to calm her down and divert her thoughts.

The sight in front of him made him feel lucky. Lucky to have someone like her dining with someone like him. He wanted to compliment her now, tell her how she looked beautiful and herself but the waitress approached the table before he could say anything else. Timing was sometimes impeccable.

"Hello! My name is Helen and welcome to Carl's. I'll be your server today. Can I get you anything to drink before I grab your order?"

He knew Helen was new to Carl's because the other waitresses would just address them by Andy and Sharon. But, this was his cue and he grinned at himself for knowing her order off by heart. He replied confidently, "She'll have the grilled salmon on wild rice with the side of grilled asparagus, light on the fennel oil. Or are you feeling something different?"

She lets a small smile caress her face as a reaction of his carefulness. He even remembered the ordeal about the fennel oil. She hands the waitress the menu and nods in his direction and adds, "No, just what I had in mind. Thank you."

"Okay great, and I'll have the same."

"And, a spar…."

"A sparkling cider for her and a cranberry soda for myself." He finished her off. She suppressed a small laugh at the fact that he knows what she drinks as well.

"Looks like he's always got you covered." The waitress said with a light chuckle as she collected their menus and walked away.

"You're having the same? What happened to that filet mignon you always described in vivid detail?"

"You know, just trying something different. I wanted to see what all the fuss this heavenly salmon was all about". He said and a quiet chuckled rumbled through him as he placed his napkin on his lap and saw her do the same.

The waitress returned with their drinks and placed them on a coaster, softly stating, "your entrees will be here shortly."

"Thank you" they said in synchronization, and took the drinks in their hands.

She smiled at his glass of cranberry soda. He always ordered it, but this time, for no particular reason at all, it made her smile. Perhaps it was a metaphor, or it was just simply mocking her. It was him. She knew it was Andy – a glass ofsobriety, a glass of I'm trying, a glass of promise. She can't help it but feel a flutter in her stomach. Sometimes she completely forgets how far this man has come and it floors her that this man, who wore the same shoes as Jack back in the day, managed to pull himself out and is now trying. It pains her to know that he is something that she wished Jack was. But then she shakes it out of her head and mentally frowns at herself for comparing the two men.

Their conversation was free-flowing as always and it astonishes him how comfortable they have become with one another. But it still made his gut flutter whenever she would reach over to gently touch his hand in a middle of her story and making him smile to see the sheer excitement on her face while talking about what happened with Rusty at the mall last weekend. He would mentally kick himself sometimes when he would talk too quickly, stutter, or overly use those Italian hand gestures but he simply couldn't help it – there was something about her presence that made him excited and causes him to just ramble.

And when he would respond, she would giggle quietly – just enough for him to pick up the reaction. She particularly enjoyed his way of phrasing things; with small hand gestures and much expression on his face. Very Italian of him, but never obnoxious and she found that rather charming. Although they've reached a good level of comfort with each other, she would still feel a small pang of nervousness in her gut whenever he gave that crooked grin of his.

Many things have changed over the years and he can safely say that their relationship was one of them. He knew he's messed things up and everyone can agree that they didn't start off on a good foot. He lied to her and he was embarrassed, even ashamed of it. He cursed himself for lying to Nicole as well and it made him feel slightly pathetic as a father. But he apologized to her last weekend over morning coffee and he thanked the heavens that her garnered her forgiveness. He was so goddamn thankful that this woman was understanding.

He stopped talking when he noticed she wasn't listening anymore. He saw her tense up, making the air between them thick and heavy. Her gaze was focused beyond the window at the building outside with her lips slightly agape. He could see the slight coat of moisture forming in her eyes now, making his gut churn and a lump form in his throat. He followed her gaze and realized she was staring at a building. It couldn't have just been the building. What did she see?

"Andy, I…." She starts, but the lump that forms in her throat and the churning in her stomach makes her slightly nauseous. It all pieced together. The pressure was building behind her eyelids as if each tear was threatening each other to race down her face. She bit the inside of her lip, as she could not let a tear fall. She looked up to the ceiling for a fraction of a second, and hoped that gravity would act forcefully against the threatening tears. Now she understood the reluctance. Why? Did they not trust that she could handle this situation?

"Sharon?"

"Excuse me for ..."

And with that, she got up abruptly and she headed straight to the ladies room, feeling the air around her becoming incredibly hard to breathe.

She let out a small sigh of relief as her eyes scanned the restroom, thankful that it was empty. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she walked over to the mirror, gripping the edge of the sink once she got there. She felt lost, insecure and for the first time in a long time, not in control of her emotions. She felt Captain Sharon Raydor break apart and now she just was standing as Sharon - a simple woman, with the same wants and desires as any other woman but with an ever so complicated life. She felt angry. Upset. Disappointed. All in one mixture. But she didn't know what the feeling of anger, or disappointment was directed towards. She looked in the mirror, trying to even out her breathing but she couldn't help the tears the threating to escape in the corner of her eyes.

She used to believe that love – although it can be hard sometimes – it makes people feel alive. But never would she have imagined that she would love someone so much that it made feeling alive so goddamn painful. During their marriage, not once did she give up on him. She would try to understand him. She would make an effort to learn about AA, what they did, how they worked and how to be supportive. Her parents thought she was crazy for hanging on this long but there was nothing more she wanted than to prove to them they're wrong. But he had dropped out of AA so many times that she felt like the more she tried, the more egg shells were scattered around her to walk on.

She would lie to herself and said she loved him because one more wrong kept them together for one more night. He would always lie and say he'd change but on his breath and in his veins, the truth still remained. You know you didn't pull the trigger but you're the one who does the time - when you love Jack Raydor. He asked her so many times before; do you want me to leave? And each time she would say, no I love you still. But then one day, she decided that you could only bash your head so many times against the wall before you start bleeding. She finally kicked him out. She tried so hard for him and for their children but one day, so many years ago, she didn't want to try for him anymore.

She still couldn't put herself in his shoes - she still didn't quite understand how Jack could just fold in and give up on his kids. Every time she knew about him going back to the bottle, she would feel the same rush of painful memories and emotions flood her body, painfully gripping her heart like a vice. She didn't understand how one man could hold up the white flag so easily while the man whom she was having dinner with, fought through the trenches and is still fighting. She thought of the cranberry soda sitting on their table and shook her head in disbelief. She probably never saw a non-alcoholic drink in Jack's hand during the times he lived with her.

He sat patiently for several minutes as he waited for her to return. He couldn't decide to whether to keep waiting for her at the table, or go after her into the ladies room but he figured the latter would cause much of a scene. He took a sip of his cranberry soda as his leg jiggled up and down, a small nervous habit that he needed to quit.

He heard someone softly clearing their throat behind him and he turned around. He saw her with her eyes red-rimmed and her faced clenched. There was sadness etched on her face but he could also easily tell that she was angry and she was hurt. He got up immediately and put his hands on her shoulders. Her eyes diverted away from him. She couldn't bear to look at him.

"Sharon, look at me. What happened?"

"Andy, I ..." She tried to explain to him but suddenly, all the air rushed out of her lungs, leaving her throat dry and the lump in her throat unbearably hard to swallow. She wanted to tell him, she really did. She knew that if she told him, he would be able to calm her down and out of all people, he would understand.

"I gotta go. Thank you for dinner." She murmured out brokenly.

"Well let me walk you to your car."

"No, Andy. Goodnight." She stopped him just as she saw him stand up and put on his coat. She was thankful that her voice didn't shatter. The air around her become harder to inhale and excruciatingly painful to exhale. She collected her jacket, her purse and then painfully smiled softly at him as a tear betrayed her and trickled down her cheek. She needed some fresh air. Leaving him speechless, she hurried out of the restaurant.

He kept wondering what set her off like that and it killed him to see her in pain. He ached for her. He licked the corner of his bottom lip in one swift motion and let out a small huff of frustration. He hated not knowing things. What bothered him even more was knowing that she was upset but didn't know the reason for it. It made him feel helpless and a tad ashamed that she keeps herself so reserved, not opening up to him with her troubles and yet, he depended so heavily on her these few months.

His gaze shifted out the window, his eyes glancing at the shops across the street but not searching for anything in particular. But then he saw it, her ex-husband, her idiotic ex-husband holding something he knew so well, exiting an oh-so familiar building. His hands were folded on the table; his jaw was clenched to a point where it became slightly painful. The scene that unfolded in front of him ended up winding him, making his breath hitch up in his throat and forming a lump that he simply could not swallow.

Then he caught sight of her near the end of the street, her figure tiny in comparison to the streetlight she stood beside. There she was, Sharon Raydor with her hands in the pockets of her black trench coat.

Now he was angry – no, he wasn't just simply angry.

He was pissed.

The illuminated store sign stared back at him along with the neon Open sign, flashing wildly as if it was laughing at him. He knew that place well; he's seen the rooms and walked the floors. He liked the bars, but he liked that place much more. He would blow a couple of fifties, sometimes hundreds and then he would head. He would pour it in a nice glass of ice cubes and sometimes he would take it straight up. He remembered that bitter burn that would trickle down his throat. It was beautiful. But now he has come to far to lose it all. It used to be his favorite place when he got kicked out his home. He used to drink by himself. Back before he was got himself registered in AA.

The liquor store.

He knew why she got up so abruptly. The man had failed her once again, piling up on all the wrongs he's already done. She saw Jack enter. They both saw Jack leave.

And there he was, Jack Raydor, with his arms cradling a bag of liquor as if he was cradling a child, nursing it with the greatest of care. And they looked at each other from across the street and then he saw it, one of the strongest women he knew shake her head in disbelief and allowing her red tresses to fall over her face as her head hung low.

He looks out the window at her and he contemplates once again whether or not he should go out there, gather her up in his arms. But his body immobilizes him and his eyes don't leave her. The streetlight stands over her, and just like him, it's watching her next move.

He was scared as hell of losing her now. They have come so far and he felt so close to her that it shook him from within. And now Jack shows up the liquor store just across the street out of all the goddamn liquor stores in this city. What he has been working so hard on – the removing of her walls, brick by brick, little by little, has been built back up within seconds. She is a strong woman, and he knows. But maybe what made him gravitate towards her, fall in love with her was his realization that nothing belonged to her, but she belonged to everything. And although she could instill fear with one look or a structured phrase, he knew that every ounce of her being was dedicated to caring for people and all this selflessness has left no room for her to care for herself.

It not only saddens him, but frightens him that she was in such emotional pain that she appeared numb. And then he noticed that she suddenly became really interested in her toes as she proceeded to walk across the street and toward the parking garage. He couldn't decide whether his cranberry soda was mocking him and encouraging him to go after her. Gripping onto the beverage so tightly, he felt his palms go cold from the ice cubes that were sashaying in the glass.

Screw it.

And he left a hundred dollar bill on the table, figure it probably covered the cost of two entrees with a very generous tip. He swung his leather jacket over him and hurried out the restaurant and he ran. He ran down the street and across the crosswalk towards the parking garage. He mentally scoffed at himself – a few years ago, he loathed this woman and now he's chasing after her. His knees are going to make him pay for it in the morning but right now, he had priorities. There was something, someone much more important on the line than his lousy arthritis.

The frosty air made breathing harder for him and his fists were clenched so hard that they started to ache. Gathering every ounce of oxygen that his lungs allowed him, he called out, "Sharon!"

"Sharon, wait! Sharon, please!"

She heard him the first time and she definitely heard him the second time, but she couldn't bear to turn around. She hated herself for doing it but she pretended to be ignorant of his efforts and proceeded on walking towards to her car – this time, a little faster. She could hear his footsteps coming closer as they echoed louder and louder through the empty parking garage until the sound stopped. Her breath hitched, knowing that he was standing right behind her. She heard him panting. He ran after her. He just feels sorry for you.

Turning around, she indeed saw him panting and saw small puffs of warm air dissolving into the cold night. She was rendered speechless. Not a single word was able to escape her mouth but instead, she let out an inaudible sob that only she knew about.

"I don't know why Jack chose to go down that path again." He shook his head softly in slight disbelief that he witnessed what she also saw. He approached her slowly, careful not to scare her off. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "I can't promise you a lot of things, but there's two things I know." He said as he looked down at his shoes.

It took him every fiber of courage to lift his head to look directly at her and into her eyes. And then he continued, "Not a day goes by that I don't curse myself and what I've done. I know that my kids are the two most important things in the world to me. And knowing that will never allow me to enter one of those stores ever again because once, I stupidly threw everything away." He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts and refuel his courage. He looked at her and made sure she knew he was sincere. He softly, but clearly said, "but you're also very important to me."

The pain that was splashed across his faced made her wince. She just stood there, her feet plastered to the cement ground with her hands fisted in her pockets, shivering as the cold air whipped through the garage and in her face. She instinctively knew that he would probably take a step closer, and she prayed to God that he wouldn't or else she would break. She felt so close to him, not just physically, that it scared her.

He took a step closer to her but he was still far enough away that it allowed her to run. With just a few decibels above a whisper, he confessed, "I don't want to lose you, Sharon."

She let out a soft whimper and her lips turned slightly downwards as she bit the inside of her lower lip, forcing herself not to let the tears escape. His confession was too much for her. Other than to her children, she never thought she was something to lose, something to miss. She didn't move but instead, he felt her tense and close up. A shudder traveled down his spine and then it dawned on him, a feeling that made his brows crinkle to the center and his head to fall in his hand. He let out a defeated, pent breath. He knew it. She doesn't want another sadistic drunk.

"I'm so sorry." He breathed out. Oh, God. He felt embarrassed. Ridiculous. Useless. He stepped away from her, cautious of the fear that the woman he so desired didn't want him as much as he wanted her. He spun slightly outwards on his heel with his hand still gripping his forehead. Stop making this about you, you idiot.

"I don't know why I just said that." He added and for the first time in the longest time, he felt tears threatening to expose him. Overwhelmed by his feelings for this woman, he clenched his fists hard and his knuckles turned white. Oh God, it was going to be an unbearable day at work on Monday. He breathed out apologetically with pain thick in his voice, "Sorry, you don't need another alcoholic. That was stupid of me." Pathetic, actually.

Suddenly she felt a pang of guilty ripple through her body. "Andy…" She managed to whisper out. Her voice was low, raw and thick with palpable emotion. She gathered all the power she had to step closer to him, her knees felt weaker with each step. Her brows furrowed and her lips pressed together as she tried to hold back the moisture that glossed her eyes. She said softly, "Not once did I doubt you."

There was a small pause in between where no one said a thing. Complete, deafening, unbearable silence where not even a single water droplet dared to disturb.

She broke the silent wail of the night and continued. "I'm angry. Angry with myself on why I decided to spend twenty-five years with someone who did not try once to be a father to his children." She said, desperately trying to smooth out her voice and not sound broken. She couldn't bear to look directly in his eyes so she looked away into the thick, tension filled air of the empty parking garage.

"And yet here ..." It was then her voice betrayed her as her breath hitched in the middle of her sentence. Her voice was thick with emotion and it took every ounce of her being to try to finish what she was saying. She took in a small, broken breath and tried again, "and yet here you are, trying."

He wanted to hold her, just wrap his arms around her and protect her from the world. But he couldn't, not when he was a heavy burden himself. You can't be a hero when you were once the arson. "I used to be him. I used to live paycheck to paycheck and blow it on a few bottles."

"And it's because of my kids. And because of you that I've been trying harder than I ever was."

"I know, Andy. I know." She didn't quite grasp an understanding as to why he wanted to be with her. Did she not see what she was? The burden that she came with? Why would someone with a sane mind want to come anywhere near her? His courage and eagerness to get closer to her made her tremble. He was not only willing to try with his children, but to try with her. She hated herself for not realizing this before. She prayed that he wouldn't step closer to her but deep, deep, deep within begged for him to hold her. She got so close to him and he got so close to her that it shook her from within. But she couldn't do this to him, she couldn't add another heavy baggage to what he's trying to carry already.

She looked down at the ground, her tresses covering most of her face. In her peripheral vision, she saw him take a few steps toward her. Then suddenly she felt his cold fingers on her chin, tipping her head upwards to look up at him. Even in the dimly lit parking garage, his dark chocolate eyes glowed but she saw them gloss over with moisture. In all these years, she has never seen a grown man cry and it made her ache that the formation of his unshed tears were because of her.

He looked right into her eyes, the moment was so raw that he shivered. He let out a small, pent breath and then looked downwards, slightly embarrassed at the showcase of his emotions. To his surprise, before his mind registered it, he found himself resting his forehead on hers. He let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding when he felt her hands gripping his biceps and she leaned closer to him.

Just when he thought he would feel relief, she spoke and he sadness washed over him upon hearing her voice so soft and broken.

"Give me some time. Can you do that for me?" She asked quietly. It was a simple favor that she knew he would grant. She wanted so little from him and he would gladly give, but he gave so much of it already.

He sighed softly, slightly relieved that she still accepted him for what he was and who he is now. He answers softly, "Of course."

"Goodnight, Andy."

"Goodnight." He says back and steps closer to kiss on the cheek, a small but meaningful ritual that occurred at the end of their non-dates now-a-days. A part of the ritual was the he would also receive a chaste peck on his cheek but today he was left standing there, watching her walk away towards her car. With each passing second, she takes a step further away from him and he curses himself. Go you idiot, go.

He inhales deeply, allowing the cold air to fill his lungs. "Sharon." He calls out behind her, wanting to take a step closer but his feet are planted to the ground. He tries to move but his feet feel like lead, heavy and numb with nerves, and a small lack of courage. "I'm here", he says in low, tenor voice that rumbles through the large parking garage.

She could tell that his voice with filled with a hint of pain but most of all, it was a hopeful plea. It echoes through her chest and hits her hard. She knows that he's here and she knows how far he has come but there is this twist in her mind that reverts back to Jack.

His fists are clenched in his pocket and he wants her to turn around to look at him. He wants it's so much to a point where he's desperate. He speaks out one last time, praying that she will just turn around and acknowledge him.

"Sharon, I'm here. Right now."

She hears him plea again. She was being so unfair to the patient man who wants nothing more from her than to just be there for her. She asked for time but all he was giving her was time. How could she possibly ask for more of it? The depth and intensity in his voice shot through her veins, making her shudder and slightly nauseous. She breathes out and slowly inhales but with each breath, it hitches in a throat and forms a pocket of solid air. She hugs herself and she bites down on her lower lip, a small tear trickling down her cheek.

She turns around.

- # C'EST FINI # -

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed. It's a little melodramatic, I know, I know. Shame on me.

You know, I'm not quite sure how Sharon wouldn't react if she did see Jack buying liquor. I'm sure she would be all composed and grrr, I'm Sharon Raydor but then again, she's a human being. I'd be pretty rattled.

Of course – I love comments, PM's and anything of that sort! Love hearing your feedback. Have a wonderful New Year!

PS: I don't know if Sharon drinks Sparkling Cider, I just made that up for fun!

PS: PS: All mistakes are mine. I didn't have a Beta

- Jessica