A/N: I'd like to thank Kadi219 for helping me naming this fic.

Her hands were shaking as she pulled up into the parking garage of the small bungalow. She turned off the engine and unbuckled her seat belt, but remained seated in the car. She stared at the inner wall of the dark and untidy garage for a long time, feeling her limbs gradually becoming numb and heavy. Her breaths were labored as she let the darkness around her engulf her and penetrate her bones. That she even managed to drive herself home in her state and get there safely must have been a miracle from above. A light came on, but she didn't even blink. She drew a painful breath as she saw the side door opening and her husband walked into the garage, an angry expression on his face. She still couldn't bring her body to move, nor did she want to.

The door of the car was flung open from the outside and Jack bent to look at her, his eyes burning with fury.

"Sharon, where the hell have you been?" his voice was loud. "You were supposed to be home 7 hours ago!" It was then that he noticed the blood stains on her face and his hand landed on her shoulder. "Sharon, what happened?" She spread her lips to reply, but no voice came out. "Why are you covered in blood? Sharon, were you hurt?" Sharon tried to move her lips, to push the air out of her throat and form words, but her body betrayed her. She felt Jack's hands wrapping around her and slowly helping her out of the car. She couldn't feel the floor under her feet and her knees buckled and if it was not for Jack holding her, she would have collapsed to the floor. He led her into the house and to their modest but cozy kitchen. He grabbed a chair and helped her into it, and then took the time to take in her appearance. His wife's freckle dotted face was pale, spots of dried blood stained her skin, as if someone sprayed it on her. He noticed a big one that started at the side of her hairline and stretched all the way down to her left ear and the side of her neck; there was another noticeable stain crossing her bottom lip, and multiple speckles of blood across her face. "Sharon," he uttered her name softly and cupped her face in his big and warm palms. "Whose blood is this?"

"I shot…" her mouth was barely able to form the words.

"You shot someone?" Jack asked. Sharon mumbled something that sounded like FID, Investigation and Suspended."So this is not your blood?" he said in relief and wrapped his arms tightly around her. So tightly that she could barely breathe. "Let's clean you up, alright?" he asked and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the bathroom. He sat her down on the edge of the bathtub and started loosening her tie. The influx of air that suddenly rushed into her lungs made her head spin. Jack moved on to unbutton her stained uniform blouse, exposing a white bodice that was darkened by blood as well. He pulled the ends of her blouse out of her pants and quickly helped her slide her arms out of it. "Is this not considered evidence?" he wondered and Sharon responded with a helpless shrug. Jack's hands moved to the buckle of her pants and then he bent down to unlace her shoes and removed them, pulling the thick white socks off her feet. Her toes were swollen and red, as if she stood en-pointe for a long time. He then proceeded to pull her pants down and removed her bodice, until she was sitting in front of him in her underwear. The spray of blood that hit her must have been strong and there must have been a lot of it, because it penetrated through all the layers of clothing she had on and left ungraceful stains all over Sharon's upper body. He never imagined that one person could have enough blood in them to soak through someone else's clothes this way. His hands moved to her hair, slowly untying and untangling her long and thick dark braid. He's never seen Sharon so vulnerable in his life and it pained him to see the light gone from her jade eyes.

"I tried to save him," her voice was broken and thick with sadness. Jack sighed. Why did he even allow her to become a cop? Why did he put up with her getting up every morning to face the dangers this profession posed? A good husband should protect his wife, he knew, but Sharon didn't like to be protected. She liked to be the one protecting others. That was why he put up with this, he reminded himself. He turned the water on in the tub and used a wet washcloth to wipe off the blood stains on Sharon's creamy skin as they waited for the bathtub to fill. His hand moved behind Sharon's back to unclasp her bra, and then he pushed her panties off. Normally, he would take the time to admire her body, but tonight it felt unwarranted. He then checked the temperature of the water in the bathtub and helped Sharon into it. She shuddered at the sudden contact with the warm liquid. Jack grabbed the showerhead and held it over her head, watching the way her thick hair soaked the water and small streams of coppery blood-water ran down her back. Sharon brought her knees to her chest and buried her face between them as Jack began to shampoo the rest of the congealed blood out of her hair. He felt guilty for being angry at her earlier. He hoped she knew it was only because he was worried when she didn't come home at the end of her shift. He realized now, even if she didn't say it, that they held her down at the station while FID investigated her OIS incident.

"Did they appoint an attorney for you?" he asked and heard a muffled no in response. "They have to offer it. It's your right." She shrugged weakly and lifted her head with a sigh.

"I'm really tired, Jack," she uttered softly.

"Did they at least give you something to eat?" Jack asked.

"They gave me coffee," she responded.

"They can't do this, Sharon. They were violating your rights!" Jack called out.

"I wasn't hungry anyway," she replied and Jack let out a deep sigh. He poured body wash into his palms and began massaging it into her skin, paying extra attention to her arms and palms that seemed a bit frozen. The water was darkened by blood again, and Sharon squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the sight. She was glad when Jack finally rinsed the body wash off her skin and emptied the bathtub. She felt cleaner and it improved her mood a little bit. Jack helped her out of the tub and handed her a thick, fluffy towel. Sharon barely finished wrapping it around her body when she felt Jack's arms pulling her into a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you weren't hurt, Sharon. I was so worried when you didn't return home. I thought something had happened to you."

"I'm fine, Jack. I really am," she wrapped her arms around him too. "I'm sorry for making you worry. It was a hectic day. I wasn't able to call."

"I know, sweetheart," Jack replied and let go of her. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really," Sharon replied.

"But you need to grab something to eat, right?" Jack insisted. "I can make you my special grilled cheese sandwich. How does it sound?" he offered.

"It sounds great. Thank you, honey," Sharon replied. She really didn't have it in her to argue with him about it. "I'll go get dressed," she said tiredly.

"Wait," Jack stopped her and took her hand. "Let me look at you." He brought his hand to cup her face, gently caressing it. "You look better. You've got the color back in your cheeks." He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers before he left the bathroom and went to the kitchen.

Sharon walked down into their bedroom and slipped into clean underwear and old but very comfortable blue T-shirt. She went down on her knees and thanked the Lord for keeping her from harm and for giving her a loving husband who was there for her when she needed him. She was so immersed in her prayer that she didn't hear the knock on the front door or the discussion that Jack was having with her commanding officer who stopped by.

"Sharon," she heard Jack's voice as he stepped into the bedroom. "Your commander is here. He wants to talk to you."

"I'll be out in a minute," she replied as she pulled herself off the floor and slipped into a pair of tights. She walked down the hall into the living room, where her supervising officer stood and waited for her. "Lieutenant Doyle," she greeted him.

"Officer Raydor," he responded. "I have some good news and some bad news for you," he announced. Sharon gave him a quick nod. "FID concluded their investigation. Since there were several witnesses to the shooting and your partner corroborated your version of the events, you were cleared. You will need to undergo evaluation by a therapist to make sure that you can return to duty."

"That's great news," Jack said and looked at her proudly, as if she saved the world.

"The bad news are that Ernest Gill, the man you shot died of his injuries at the hospital." Lieutenant Doyle's words hit Sharon like a ton of bricks. "There might still be a trial against the second suspect at the scene, and it's possible that you will need to testify." Lieutenant Doyle paused and looked at her. "It's not going to be an easy experience, but remember that no matter how hard it is, today you saved a woman's life."

"I… I'm… Thank you, Sir," Sharon mumbled.

"You're welcome." Lieutenant Doyle wished Sharon and Jack a good night and left.

"Sharon, are you okay?" Jack asked as he noticed the way the color drained out of his wife's face.

"Yeah, I just… need a moment," she replied and walked down the hall and into their bedroom. Jack remained in the kitchen and while he prepared Sharon's sandwich, he couldn't help but feeling proud of her. She was a hero. He's always known she was a strong woman and it was one of the things he admired about her. She always knew what she wanted and how to get things done. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to him that she was brave, even though he knew she faced the danger of the LA streets every single day when she left for work. And here she was, his beautiful, smart, talented wife saving lives around the city like a superhero. His chest puffed with pride as he put the sandwich on a plate and placed it, along with a cup of tea on a tray. He carefully picked it up and walked down the hall. The sight that he encountered when he entered their bedroom was unexpected. Sharon was lying in bed, her face covered by her damp hair and her shoulders shaking violently as she sobbed into the pillow. Jack placed the tray on the night stand and hurried to her side.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" he asked.

"I killed a man, Jack," she sobbed.

"But you did it to save someone," Jack said.

"It doesn't matter," she cried into the pillow.

"Of course it does. This man was obviously doing something wrong and you just tried to stop him. FID decided you acted according to the law, otherwise they wouldn't have cleared you so fast. You were only trying to do the right thing, Sharon."

"If it was the right thing, I wouldn't have felt so terrible about it," Sharon declared and her face sank deeper into the pillow.

"Come here," Jack said and drew her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and wailed bitterly.

Neither of them knew for how long she sobbed before her energy ran out and she fell asleep in his arms, tear stains on her face. Jack watched her as he eased her down on the bed, careful not to wake her. Her long lashes were wet, the tip of her nose was flush and her lips formed a sad pout. His never seen his wife with such a miserable expression on her face. He hated seeing her this way. He despised the thought that after she's cleared for duty again, she'll have to return to her patrol unit, and that the next time she encounters a man with a gun, she'll remember how it felt to take a life and won't do what's necessary to protect herself. The thought sent a painful shiver down his spine. He would never be able to live again if something ever happened to Sharon. "Oh, God," he groaned and shook his head. He needed to get this awful thought out of his mind.

He stood up and took the tray with the untouched sandwich and tea from the nightstand, carrying it to the kitchen. He barely held back the urge to throw it against the wall. Instead, he put it down on the counter and wrapped the sandwich with a plastic wrap. He opened the fridge and placed it on the top shelf when he saw the six-pack Sharon had bought the day before. It's been a while since he allowed himself to get drunk, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He grabbed the six-pack and snapped the tab off the first can.

"Cheers," he said to no one before he drank himself to oblivion.

THE END

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