This is an AU where Sharon lives. The idea was born after a few days of weird insomnia. All mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

The first time Andy Flynn remembered stepping into a church was when he was 6. It was for a funeral. His father's funeral. He remembered his mother taking his hand, sitting in the first pew, and never speaking about the day. His mother remarried six months later.

He met Sandra when he was 18. By 21 they were married. The church was small, in her hometown; being married in a church surrounded by her friends and family was what Sandra wanted. He wanted to give her everything. No one knew that the real reason they were married was because she was pregnant.

The same church was the place both of their kids were baptized. The kids were 7 and 5 when Sandra divorced him. He remembered sitting in the back of the church, the very last pew on the left, begging God for his forgiveness. It was from his spot there, that he watched Charlie receive his first communion. Andy was gone before anyone knew he was there.

Classifying himself as someone who was religious wouldn't be fair to those who practiced on a weekly basis. He practiced, but after being divorced from Sandra, he was more of a holiday practitioner. When he'd visit his mother, they would go to a cathedral in New York for whatever holiday he was in town for. If he found himself spending time with his sister, they'd go to a small church for a Sunday mass. Going every Sunday was a relatively new experience for him.

If anyone asked he went to Church every Thursday night at 7:30. It surprised his colleagues, that hot-tempered Andy Flynn went to Mass. Letting them assume that he was in fact going to church was easier than explaining he was going to the basement of a Church to profess his sins of being an Alcoholic. Going to AA was a requirement for him to maintain his position within the LAPD. It was a deal he had to make with his wife if he wanted to see his kids again.

Now, he sat in the middle of a church, staring up at the altar. It was not the church he first got married in, but the second. It was the church where his step-children went to school. Where their mother found solace in when a case became to difficult. It was here he went for answers.

"You're here awfully late, Andy," a voice from behind him said.

Andy turned in his seat to find Father Stan making his way towards him. Andy smiled politely at the Father and went back to the altar. He stood up there, promising to be with Sharon in sickness and in health, for richer or poor, until the day they die. He just didn't think he'd be forced to live up to those vows so soon. At least the sickness part.

"Got a few things on my mind," Andy said as Father Stan sat next to him.

"Anything I can help clear up?"

Andy shook his head in the negative and they both sat in silence. Father Stan was a family friend. He administered Sharon her last rites when she thought she was dying. He sat with Rusty, Emily and Ricky for hours praying. He was there when the family needed him.

"Recovering," Andy said. "We lost her on the operating table, but they got her back. Thankfully."

Her heart stopped twice. Three times really. Once in her office, again on the way over to the hospital and then a third on the table. Despite being the husband, Andy wasn't allowed to see her for hours. They wanted to monitor her without any added presence.

They kept him out in order for her to live. The presence of him would increase her heart rate which was what they wanted to avoid. Good or bad - they needed the muscle to beat on its own. Then they would increase the rate and monitor it. He wanted - no - he needed her to live, so he stayed way.

"There were a few things -" Andy began but quietted.

He looked down at his hands, a rosary sat in the palm. It was Sharon's. A present when she was a teenager from her Grandmother. A variety of colors, each bead prayed upon, and blessed.

"I don't know if you follow the news," Andy said. "But we got a suspect that we've been looking for."

"Phillip Stroh," the Father said.

The name, coming off of the other man's tongue, echoed slightly in the church. It forced Andy to sit up straighter. The man was dead, had been dead for days now, and still set him on edge. It set the need to run home, to check the locks on every door and window. The fight or flight instinct was still alive.

"Yeah," Andy nodded. "Him. Caused a mess."

"How so?"

"Rusty killed him," Andy professed. "I'm sure he's already talked to you. Sharon pushed him to talk to you."

"We have had a discussion, yes," Stan confirmed. "As I told Rusty, deceit is in the hearts of those who plot evil, but those who promote peace have joy. What Phillip Stroh did was deceitful. He deceived women and murdered them. Raped them and murdered them, if the news reports are correct."

Andy said nothing, but simply nodded.

"Then what is next is to continue doing your work," Stan said. "Promote peace. Ensure the safety of the city. Joy will come."

Andy fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was one of those things that he had been told, over and over and over again, that what he did was good. The death that he dealt with on a daily basis was only the first step. Finding out whoever did it, allowed the families a nugget of peace. They were given answers.

Not many families were that lucky. Questions remained unanswered in the cold cases that sat in the basement. On down days, Andy found himself opening boxes, taking out files, looking over the notes and seeing if anything jumped out at him. He had a box in his desk drawer that he used to look at when he was on desk duty and the team had just rolled out. It calmed him.

Father Stan stood. Andy followed suit. The other man offered his hand to shake and Andy took it.

"You need to take care of yourself," Stan told him. "Let the children take care of you."

Andy smirked and shrugged his shoulder. "We'll see about that. Thanks, though, Father."

"Any time, Andy."

With that, Andy moved to the edge of the pew, bent down on one knee and made the sign of the cross. With his thumb pressed to his mouth, he prayed one more time and stood. Turning his back on the altar he went to the double doors that went to the street.

With one more look, he regarded the space before he left it. It was where he got married. It was where his friends and family watched him swear to another that for as long as he lived he would be there for Sharon. It was the quiet admission, and quick glance over her shoulder to Emily and a long in depth conversation with the boys the night before - he would be there for them too. He would stop at nothing.

The first time Andy Flynn remembered stepping into a church was when he was 6. Again to baptize his children and to watch them receive their first communion. He admitted his sins of addiction in the basement of a church. He swore, again, to be there for another human selflessly under the watchful gazes of his friends and family.

Stepping out into the cool, chilly, January night, he different. As he settled into his car, a small smile formed on his lips. As he pulled into the traffic, headed towards home, he put a name to the feeling; Joy.

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