You guys know of my slow, gradual conversion to a Sharon / Andy fan. I'm still very much in the process of being won over to that side, but it is happening. And as many of you prompted me to write something to that effect - this is my first attempt. Very mild, mind you, so please don't go into this expecting fireworks and impassioned declarations. Baby steps!

Imperfect Harmony

"Are you sure about this?" Wrapped in her bathrobe, Sharon poked her head into his room, smiling at the sight of him sitting cross-legged on the bed playing a game on his phone. "Rusty, this isn't a mandatory event and it's perfectly fine if we stay home."

The boy sighed. "Yes, Sharon, I get it." She'd repeated the same about fifty times… if he didn't know better, he'd think she didn't want to go. "It's fine. I'm just… I'm happy to get out of the house again, okay? Even if it is just to a boring police ball or whatever this is." He felt a little self-conscious at the admission, but she just gazed at him with that warm look, and nodded.

"Alright. I'll start getting dressed, then. Do you want to have dinner before we leave?"

Rusty arched his eyebrows a little doubtfully. "Don't they serve food at these events?"

She gave a noncommittal hum. "Finger food, most likely. I doubt there will be a sit-down dinner. The gala is mostly a device to network and get to socialize with other law enforcement colleagues – and that's a lot easier to do standing up and walking around."

"Sounds like fun," he deadpanned. "No, I want to go –" Rusty preempted her next words, " – it's really fine, Sharon. I have to get out of the house some time, right?" And a police gala was going to be filled with – well, police, and it sounded safe enough and he really, really couldn't hide inside the apartment forever, even though he wanted to. No one would really know him there, tonight, and so it wouldn't matter what they thought.

And again, the place would be crawling with law enforcement folk, and much as Rusty had hated his security detail and all the protection, now that it was all gone he found himself feeling terribly exposed. Not when Sharon was around, of course...but she couldn't be around all the time… even though over the past couple of days since he'd testified, that was exactly what she'd done, but he couldn't make her stay with him inside the apartment for the rest of their lives, and he didn't want to admit that he was too uneasy to be anywhere but home or the murder room and…

…if he had to go out somewhere, a room filled with a couple of hundred police officers seemed like a safe bet.

He didn't say any of that to Sharon, of course, but there was a chance that she guessed part of it, anyway. "So… yeah. New Year's police gala it is..." He sighed, and put aside his phone. "Isn't it a little late for that kind of party, anyway? New Year's was like, almost a month ago."

She smiled again, and shrugged. "Budget issues, too many scheduling conflicts… And technically, it's not a 'police' gala. Other local law enforcement agencies are invited to attend, as well, and representatives from the Mayor's office, the DA's office…"

"So basically it's like work… only with finger food." He made a face at her, and was glad to see her laugh.

She laughed easily, these last couple of days. Smiled easily. He'd been so wrapped up in himself, his world all out of whack and titled off its axis, that he hadn't really seen the tension that was there in her body, yet now he was acutely aware that it was gone. And Sharon laughed, and smiled, and moved and spoke more easily.

In turn, he breathed more easily.

"Water chestnuts wrapped in bacon..." Provenza rolled his eyes as the server moved out of earshot, "what do I look like, some New Age gourmet hippie? Come on, Flynn, I need a drink. I'll even get you a broccoli smoothie or whatever you're inflicting on yourself these days…"

His partner mirrored the eye roll. "Club soda's fine, thanks. And if you knew you'd hate the food, and you'd hate the people, why'd you want to come? I thought you made a point to skip these events, anyway."

Provenza spared him a dry glare from the corner of his eye.

It was true that he hated these events, and historically he had made it a point to miss them even when his bosses hinted that he should attend. Especially when his bosses hinted that he should attend. Well after the first ten years or so they'd kind of taken the hint, and after he'd made Lieutenant he'd made it really clear that he wasn't going to be roped into some ridiculous black-tie circus just to rub elbows with higher-ups he couldn't stand. Once Flynn had quit drinking, he'd really stopped showing up to these things, and in the last decade or so people had mostly stopped nagging him about it. Perks of being a senior officer… or maybe just a senior; in this instance, Provenza didn't care much which it was.

So yes, normally he'd have gladly skipped the whole thing.

Except this time, he'd been right there in the murder room when the kid had heard Sykes casually ask Tao about the damn gala or whatever they called it, and then the kid had asked the Captain about it, and by the time she'd somehow kind-of agreed to go, Flynn's ears had perked up and Provenza had started to take a mental inventory of his clean suits, and pray for patience.

"There is something wrong with you," he grumbled to his partner, then marched toward the bar ignoring Flynn's baffled look. The man would be lucky if Provenza didn't end up strangling him by the end of the night.

They saw her when she came in, even though there were two hundred people there at least. But for one, her rank and position tended to part the crowd, and for another she might've done a fine job stopping conversations even if she'd been a rookie fresh off patrol duty. (He was old, not blind, okay?) And of course, Flynn was about to run off and greet her and it took a lot of effort to all but drag him in the opposite direction. They could let her work the crowd a little, meet her on the other side of the room.

Provenza didn't think she looked as though she particularly wanted to be there. Well – that morning she'd had no intention of attending, until Rusty had somehow talked her into it for reasons completely unknown. The kid didn't look all that happy to be there either, but he also didn't look ready to run for the hills, so maybe he'd suggested that they attend because he really was bored after five months of house arrest… who knew? In any case, Rusty had asked and the Captain had given in as soon as she'd gotten over her surprise enough to process what he wanted (she'd have given him anything he wanted at the moment, really – and Provenza hoped she'd snap out of it before the kid figured out how to work that temporary nugget of motherly weakness), and now here they both were… and okay, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have them out of the house, after all.

To her credit, Raydor might not have really wanted to be there but she could meet and greet like a pro. He could tell she was picking a trajectory that side-stepped most of the people who might've engaged her in conversation, but it was impossible to avoid them all. Those she couldn't skirt, she engaged with pleasant smiles and slow nods, and Provenza snorted under his breath because clearly those people didn't know that that was her 'patiently waiting for the BS to end' expression – the same one she wore when suspects tried to weave some sob story, and she'd nod sympathetically until she could go for the jugular. So to speak.

As they advanced further into the room, they picked up Buzz somewhere along the way, who Provenza was pretty sure had had to guilt Sykes into taking him as her plus-one (civilians often got overlooked on the guest list). The old lieutenant wondered if Raydor knew that most of the team was there tonight primarily because of her and the kid. Maybe not Sykes (who'd materialized at the Captain's side, and still looked way too grateful each time Raydor introduced her to some other higher-up), and Tao's wife did enjoy these functions for some reason so she might've made him come anyway… but Buzz was obviously not interested in the schmoozing, and Sanchez had made it clear that he was only there to keep an eye out just in case. Provenza himself was there because someone had to keep things in line, and Flynn was there because he was in dire need of psychiatric help.

Speaking of… "Flynn!"

"…what…?"

Provenza growled in exasperation. "Never mind. Have another stuffed mushroom," he grumbled, as one of the servers paused by their standing table. "See if you can find a poisonous one…"

His partner's eyes finally landed on him, eyebrows arched wryly. "You're in a mood tonight," he observed. "Did your favorite team lose another game or something?"

"Well," Provenza retorted judiciously, "no, but now that you mention it I do think that my team is about to lose a man."

"Really? Wait, not the Dodgers, right? Did one of their players get poached?"

Provenza stared at him with his best displeased stare. Then he rolled his eyes. "No, Flynn. Not the Dodgers."

It was about an hour or so in that Sharon found an unexpected moment of solitude. She let the sounds of the room wash over her, mingled words and scattered laughter and music, and in the midst of it all she felt almost isolated by that pervading sense of contentment. Things just felt... in tune, again. A peaceful harmony.

She walked out onto the balcony, stopping by the railing to look out over the city. She could see a few stars, although the city lights were a little too bright for much stargazing; still, the sky was clear and the moon was out, the mountains were visible in the distance and it all looked beautiful. It was a little chilly though, not entirely unexpected for the end of January. The hand that wasn't holding the wine glass automatically moved to massage her arm, her light sweater barely any barrier against the wind.

There was sudden movement behind her, and a warm weight settled around her shoulders, enveloping her in a familiar smell.

Looking up and over her shoulder, Sharon smiled at Lt. Flynn, and pulled at the edges of his suit jacket to draw it a little closer around herself; tonight, she couldn't be bothered to think about proprieties and what ifs and worries. The relief of the last few days was still too fresh for that. And the jacket was warm around her shoulders and it made her quiet moment on the balcony even more relaxing. "Thank you," she told him softly, and he smiled back.

Rusty waited behind in the main ballroom, a few feet away from the door to the balcony. He was keeping an eye on Sharon, but he didn't want to bother her; he knew that sometimes she sought a few moments by herself. It hadn't surprised him all that much when he'd come back from the restroom to find that she'd stepped outside.

Maybe in a few seconds, he'd join her. It wouldn't bother her, he didn't think: they were used to comfortable silences between them. And anyway, she probably wasn't trying to isolate herself. She'd seemed to be doing fine all night – a little tired, maybe, but that could have been because she'd been talking to too many people. Rusty had been surprised to see so many approach her … but maybe it was her mood that did it. She was in such a good mood. He hadn't seen that in… a while, and he knew why it was and even though he had so much weighing on him still, the sight of Sharon's obvious relief made him feel lighter, too.

And it really was obvious. Even through their serious discussions over the past couple of days, there had been something in her eyes, a ghost of a smile on her lips, this sort of ... peace all around her. That more than anything made him think that they'd finally gotten a break. That they were safe. That things would be … okay. Even if maybe he didn't quite feel it yet, Sharon felt it and so… things were good.

He saw Lt. Flynn walk out after her, the man shrugging out of his jacket as she rubbed absently at her arms. Rusty was glad because he knew very well how cold nights could get, and it was even windier so high up as they were. He was glad to see the lieutenant draping the jacket around Sharon's shoulders, and she turned her head and smiled at him – and there was something… not the same smile she gave him, no, he could still see some little trace of the restraint she usually showed at work, but that light was in her eyes and the peace just radiated from her, and it shone in her smile. She just looked so… content, and Rusty couldn't help a small sigh and a smile of his own at the sight, because if Sharon looked like that, well, it could only be a good thing…

Behind Rusty, Provenza groaned in exasperation. He could see the kid watching, but while the kid's eyes were glued to the Captain (and that was probably why Rusty looked so positive about the whole thing, because she was pretty much glowing and it was impossible not to feel a little good just looking at her with that expression on her face), Provenza could tear his gaze away long enough to look at Flynn, and that was what had made him groan.

The Captain's smile was warm and peaceful and he could see why the obvious serenity she radiated had been drawing people to her all evening… and then he saw her direct it at Flynn and goddamn it, his idiot partner looked like a goddamn golden retriever.

Sharon closed her eyes, breathed in the crisp night air and took a small sip of her wine glass, the same vague smile still floating across her lips.

Unexpectedly, the wind picked up, a gust strong enough to blow the thin branches and leaves of a nearby potted shrub right into her face, and she instinctively took a step sideways, colliding straight with Flynn.

She hadn't realized that he was standing so close.

He let out a small startled oomph as she bumped into him, the sound of it so incongruent that it made her laugh. She took a step back, out of range of the potted shrub and away from him, as well.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant." But even the apology was made with a smile, because the buoyancy she'd been feeling for the past three days wasn't going away anytime soon, and she was just so damn relieved that she felt physically lighter.

"That's alright." He was giving her this warm look, and the chilly wind seemed to abate, the noises of the city dying down around them. "It's good to see you smile," he said softly, and the words pleased her, the feeling amplified on the backdrop of her all-enveloping sense of peace. It was a sort of giddiness, almost.

"It's a little absurd," Sharon admitted. "But I'm having trouble doing anything but, these last couple of days."

"Not absurd at all. You've got a pretty solid reason to be smiling."

"I think I might be scaring Rusty," she laughed quietly. She really must have been acting a little out of it, but to have the sudden, crushing weight lifted from her shoulders had left her a little off kilter. "Not to mention everyone else. My reputation…" Her lips pressed together in an amused smirk.

Andy didn't mirror her humor, instead tilting his head. "You should keep doing it," he said honestly.

And Sharon thought that maybe another time she might've ducked her head or closed up, but tonight, there was just no room in her for red flags or warning bells. Her mind and body were just refusing to acknowledge anything but the overwhelming relief and quiet joy.

Another breeze swept over the balcony, and she noticed the wind beating against his crisp white shirt. "Are you cold?" A hand instinctively came up to touch his upper arm.

"Nah." There was a youthful note to his carefree shrug. "I'm usually pretty warm."

She could feel the truth of it beneath her fingers. "We can go inside."

"I don't mind," he assured her. "Stay. Besides," a mischievous grin flitted across his lips, "you're much better company than Provenza. He hates these things."

Returning her hand to the railing, Sharon chuckled at the mental image of her older lieutenant's disgruntlement. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you having a good time?"

Andy smiled, turning to face the view as well. "I am now."

Behind them in the main room, Provenza watched the scene through the glass of the balcony doors, and suppressed another groan. Now they were standing shoulder to shoulder, looking out over the city, and the Captain pointed her hand at something in the distance, her frame shaking with quiet laughter, and when Flynn turned his head a little, he was wearing a toothy grin that made Provenza want to whack him over the head. The man was hell-bent on making a fool of himself, and Raydor had been cutting him a lot of slack, yes, (the ballet, oh god the goddamn ballet), and sure she was in a good mood tonight but there must've been a limit to her patience and if Flynn didn't quit being an idiot, she was going to – no, no, no, she had not just leaned her shoulder into Flynn's side, she couldn't have.

Oh dear gods.

They were standing a few inches apart again, looking over the city, the wind ruffling her hair and the sleeves of Flynn's shirt, and they looked so perfectly content to be there... well, the Captain looked perfectly content, and Flynn looked like all he was missing was a cheesy soundtrack. Even the goddamn stars were twinkling.

This was so, so much worse than he'd thought.

Thank you for reading! Bonus points if you catch the two mostly-incidental references in there, one to a movie and one to another tv show ;).

As always, I love to hear your thoughts. Do feel free to further educate me in the art of shipping these two. (frankly, I for one can't decide if I like their evolving closeness more, or Provenza's reactions to it :D).