A/N: This is my submission for Week 1 of the MC Hiatus Challenge. The prompt was "When You Say Nothing At All." This story is based on this headcannon that I have about Andy and shared on Tumblr:

The last time that he drank, Andy Flynn made an ass of himself at his daughter's 12th birthday party. He showed up wasted and said some nasty stuff to his ex, and Nicole told him that she hated him. The next day, he checked himself into rehab, and he's been sober ever since, but every year on her birthday he remembers his mistake. Starting the very next year when she turned 13, he stopped by with a present, but she wouldn't see him. It took a long time, but Nicole eventually saw that her father had changed, and she came around. He still never misses her birthday, and he at least calls her if he can't see her in person. The calls and visits from her dad are now what Nicole looks most forward to each year, although she does feel badly that they are like a penance to him.

Andy never explicitly told Sharon all of this, but between her knowledge of his personnel file from when she was in Internal Affairs and the time she's spent with him and his family, she'd put the pieces together. His constant strive to be a better father and to make up for his past mistakes is just one of the many reasons why she loves him so much.

The following story shows how I'd imagine Sharon might acknowledge his reaching twenty years of sobriety, which should be coming up sometime this year.

This is self-edited. I hope that I caught all of my mistakes, but it's possible that I missed one. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Twenty by Kate Rosen

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sweetheart, it's Dad. I'm just calling to wish you a happy birthday. Am I catching you at a bad time?" Andy asked as he turned down the heat on the burner and placed a lid on the large pot of tomato sauce that was currently simmering on his stove. He hated to bother his daughter if she was busy, but he would never let a birthday go by without at least calling her.

"No, it's great actually. Dean and the boys are in the kitchen being very secretive, and I am not allowed to go anywhere near there until they're finished, so I was just sitting here on the couch reading."

"That's great. I'm glad you're relaxing. You deserve it, honey. You work hard." Andy smiled. He was so proud of the woman his daughter had become

"You do too, Dad," she responded. "So do you have any big plans for tomorrow to celebrate?"

"Ah, Nic, let's not talk about that now," Andy said, scratching the back of his neck. "Today's about you."

"I know that, but it's big deal. Twenty years. You should do something. At least go out for a nice dinner. What does Sharon say?"

"Oh, I don't know." Andy shrugged. "I'm not sure she even knows."

"You haven't told her?!" Nicole's outburst was so loud that Andy had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"What is there to say? She was married to a drunk for thirty years. There's no need to remind her that she's dating another one," he mumbled self-deprecatingly.

"Dad, that's not fair," she said, her voice suddenly softer. "You're not a drunk. Not anymore."

"But I always will be," he insisted. "It's an everyday struggle. It never goes away, Nic." Twenty years in AA had taught him that. He'd seen guys go even longer than twenty years and still fall off the wagon. "One day at a time" was not just a cheap line, it was absolutely true. Andy tried to never take his sobriety for granted.

"I know what you're saying, but you should be able to celebrate all that you have accomplished. I tease you about 'The Sharon Effect' and all that, but you really have changed a lot all on your own. I'm so proud of you, Dad."

Andy couldn't help but smile as a lump formed in his throat upon hearing his daughter's words. It warmed his heart to know that she thought of him that way after so many years of distance and struggling to rebuild the relationship that he had strained through his addiction. "And I'm proud of you, honey. I hope you know that."

"I do."

Andy quickly wiped away a tear that he hadn't realized he'd shed. "Well, I'm going to let you get back to your book, and I need to stir my gravy before it burns."

"Ooh, are you making your eggplant parmesan?" Nicole asked excitedly.

"I'm making it tomorrow for Sharon. I'm just making the gravy tonight." Taking a wooden spoon from the drawer, he removed the lid and stirred the red, bubbling sauce slowly. Then he gave it a taste. Definitely needs more basil, he thought.

"One day you're going to have to show me how you make it."

"Anytime, Nic," he answered as he added a few shakes of basil to the pot. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Dad. Have a good night."

x

x

"What the hell is this?" Andy asked, walking into the murder room the next morning to the scene of the entire Major Crimes division crowded around his desk save Sharon, who he could see in profile through the window to her office busy at work on her laptop.

"Somebody sent you flowers, Sir," Julio said, and his lips curled into a mischievous smile. He stepped aside so that Andy could see the vase of yellow and white daisies there. He cocked his head to the side in wonder. No one had ever sent him flowers before.

"There must be two dozen of them," Provenza remarked.

"Twenty," Mike said plainly, and when everyone turned to glance at him, he added, "I counted them."

"Was there a card?" Andy inquired.

Provenza held up the tiny rectangle as he raised his shoulders guiltily.

Andy glowered at his partner. "You opened it?!"

"You're surprised?" the senior lieutenant responded.

Julio shrugged. "It's not signed anyway."

"Give me that!" Andy commanded, grabbing the card out of Provenza's hand. Then he turned to bark at the others, "Don't you all have some work to do?"

Everyone started to move away then, except Julio, who answered, "Not really, Sir. No one's been murdered yet today."

Andy responded with an obscene hand gesture that he'd learned from his Sicilian cousins as a child, and the younger detective offered him a smirk before finally moving away. Before he rounded his desk, Andy glanced up and through the window into Sharon's office. Although she appeared to be hard at work, typing away on her computer, he detected a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It was nice to know that everyone was having a laugh at his expense, he thought sarcastically, but the question still remained: who had sent him flowers and why?

As he sunk down into his chair slowly, he glanced at writing on the small card that he held in his hand:

For whatever it's worth, you did great.

Andy's eyes grew wide as the words that he had spoken to Sharon over two years ago suddenly came back to him, but his expression quickly softened. Looking up, he noticed that everyone was busy with their work, so he turned to steal a glance at the woman in the office behind him. He caught her eye, and she offered him a broad smile before turning back to her laptop.

Thinking he should probably get to work himself, he opened his top drawer to put the card away, but a bright, yellow envelope caught his eye. "Andy" was written on it in a looping script that he knew by heart. After checking again to make sure that no one was looking, he slid his finger to break the seal, and pulled out a greeting card. On the front was a photograph of waves crashing on a beach studded with seashells, but there were no words. Inside there was no text, but a short note was written in that same familiar script that he knew so well:

Andy,

I knew that you wouldn't want a big fuss, but you didn't think that I could let an "occasion" such as this go by without acknowledging it, did you?

I just want to let you know how proud I am of you and the way that you strive every day to be a better man. I feel so lucky to have you in my life. I can't wait to celebrate with you tonight.

All my love,

Sharon

Damn it, Andy thought as he wiped an errant tear from his cheek. Now two women had made him cry in less than 24 hours. But he supposed that he didn't have much to complain about. Instead, he felt like he was the lucky one—that a woman like Sharon Raydor would love and care about him so much. Returning the card to its envelope, he placed it back into his drawer as he felt a hand give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before seeing Sharon walk passed him and toward the murder board.

"Good morning, everyone," she said as she turned around to greet her team. "I know things have been slow around here lately, but I'm sure that you all have plenty of paperwor—" she stopped when she noticed Julio's hand shoot into the air like a schoolboy trying to get his teacher's attention.

"Did you have a question, Detective?" she asked, drawing out the words as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I was just wondering if it was Lieutenant Flynn's birthday, Ma'am, since he got flowers today. I figured that we should celebrate if it is." He turned and smiled smugly at Andy, who shot back a death glare, but it was just a front. Inside he was hoping against hope that Sharon wasn't about to make some big announcement about the significance of today.

"Julio," Sharon began as she glared at him over her glasses, "how long have you known me now?"

"Um, about eight years, I guess," he answered, his eyebrows knotted in confusion

"And don't you think that if it were Lieutenant Flynn's birthday that I would have planned something? Brought in a cake or some balloons, perhaps?" After Julio nodded slowly in reply, she continued, "Anyway, except for Amy and I, you all have worked together for almost twelve years. Some of you even longer. Don't you know when each other's birthdays are by now?" She looked around the room as the various male officers shifted in their seats anxiously.

Provenza was the only one to speak up, albeit softly. "Flynn's birthday is in the fall, I think." He shrugged, his eyes fixed on the pen in his hand.

"It's November 10th!" she announced, exasperated, and half of the room jumped in fright. Andy chuckled to himself, but tried to hide his amusement at Sharon's outburst.

She wasn't done, apparently. "Mike's is February 12th, Amy's is August 2nd," she continued, but her voice trailed off when she was met with a room full of blank expressions. She crossed her arms again. "Okay," she began slowly. "When is my birthday?"

Everyone shifted uncomfortably before turning in Andy's direction.

"What are you all looking at me for? Of course I know," he insisted, gesturing toward himself. "Don't any of you?"

Provenza eyed his friend suspiciously. "How do we know you're not bluffing?"

Andy looked up at Sharon, who was glancing at him expectantly. She didn't seem worried that he didn't know, but he answered anyway. "Fine. It's January 12th."

Sharon looked pleased, and when the rest of the room remained quiet, she said, "Anyway, there are crime reports to finish from last week..."

Andy noticed her start to roll her eyes but physically restrain herself from completing the action when Julio raised his hand again. Honestly, the woman had the patience of a saint.

"Yes?" she inquired, drawing out the word. Andy knew that tone. Julio had better tread lightly if he knew what was good for him.

"Aren't you curious as to who bought the lieutenant flowers?" he asked.

"Not especially," she answered, placing a hand on her hip. "I don't think it's any of our business, is it, Andy?"

Andy raised his shoulders slightly, as he pushed out his bottom lip and reached to scratch nervously behind his ear. "The card wasn't signed, so they could be from anyone really." He didn't meet Sharon's eyes then; he wasn't sure if he could keep up the ruse if he looked at her.

"We may never know," Sharon mused.

"I think Sanchez is jealous that no one sent him flowers," Provenza teased.

"I am not!" he insisted. "You were curious, too."

As the buzz of conversation began to crescendo, Andy looked up to finally view Sharon's knowing smile. When their eyes met, he mouthed a simple "Thank you" and she responded with a subtle wink in his direction.

"Gentleman," she commanded over the din. "Let's get to work, shall we?"

~FIN