I own nothing of Major Crimes. I just like to borrow the characters occasionally.
The Other Side of Goodbye
She didn't mean to leave him. That was never her plan. It was a week with her son, a mere few days away. Ricky was as anxious to show her his new home, as she was to see LA in her rearview mirror. It was a break, that's all. After a year of marriage, the newness had worn away and what was left was arguing over painting the bedroom, whether the mixing bowls went in the cupboard above the stove or the drawer by the sink, why she always used all of the hot water to take a shower, or why he couldn't find it in himself to replace an empty toilet paper roll. He accused her of bringing her Captain attitude home; she said he never listened to her anyway. If she held her ground, she was being bitchy, if he refused to bend, he was being overbearing. She looked forward to a week of not walking on eggshells, endless silences and slamming doors.
She felt bad. She missed him, irritations and all. He hadn't returned her calls or texts. She finally gave up. If something were wrong, surely someone would contact her. Still the worry nagged at her, so much so, that she decided to come home early. She unlocked the door of the bungalow they shared and found it empty. She looked at her watch. She pressed his number on the cell phone with her index finger and hoped this time he would answer. "Hello… it's me," she began. "I'm home."
"Sharon?" Andy said in a hushed tone. "What are you doing back so soon?"
She thought she could hear and edge to his words. "Is that a problem?" She said as she answered his question with a question.
He paused. "Well…no… I just wasn't expecting you back until Sunday. You should have called."
She felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She bit at her lip as she looked out the back window at the garden. "Perhaps you should have answered your calls or texts," she snapped.
"We've been busy." He let out a heavy sigh.
"Since you're so busy, I'll come in," she said as she headed down the hallway to the bedroom.
"Don't bother, you're on vacation. We've got this," he hesitated, "but you'll do what you want anyway."
"So we're doing this again? Maybe I should have stayed longer, maybe I'll just go to the condo for a few more days and not disappoint you that I'm home." She pushed end call and flung open the bedroom door. Stunned, she stood immobile. Her closet doors were open; her clothes were in piles or boxes on the bed. It wasn't that he just hadn't planned on her coming home early, he hadn't planned on her coming home at all.
Sharon was thankful she kept the condo. Rusty needed a place to stay and offered to pay rent until he decided if he was staying in LA or moving to New York. Luckily, he and Gus were out east visiting Emily and considering their options. She didn't want to explain why she was standing on their doorstep, suitcase in hand. Sharon grabbed some clothes from the boxes and a few things from the dresser. That would have to do until she figured out a permanent arrangement. With her hand on the doorknob, she took a last look around the house that had been a home. Try as she might, she didn't feel like she had ever existed there.
Andy slammed his phone down on the desk in front of him. "Dammit," he grumbled.
Provenza patted him on the shoulder as he passed by, "You sounded like an ass, just thought you should know."
Andy leaned against his desk and rubbed the back of his neck. He knew exactly how he sounded. He sounded like a husband that was frustrated beyond words. How did she manage to turn a conversation upside down? When did her strong will and determination become bitchiness to him?
"Dammit," he muttered when he realized Sharon probably discovered the boxes by now. He reached for his phone. He punched in a couple numbers then hit end call. There was no point in explaining now, she wouldn't listen anyway. "Dammit," he said as he slammed the phone down again and stormed out of the murder room.
They didn't speak again until Monday morning. They were guarded in their exchanges, careful not to let their personal problems seep into the workplace. Their edginess hung in the air, which in turn put the entire division ill at ease. As the week progressed, cases were solved, the work was done, but it was evident that something was off. Assistant Chief Taylor noticed the change in the attitude of the department, leaving Sharon the order to "fix it."
"Fix it," Sharon repeated to herself. If only she knew how.
Sharon sat on the bench shaking the sand from her shoes. She drew her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her head on her knees. Daybreak often found her here, running barefoot on the beach, the breaking waves teasing at her feet. She ran until there was nothing left. It was how she would fix it for now. She needed to feel drained, void of all emotion. It was the only way she could do her job. It was the only way she could survive.
Amidst the body wracking sobs, she felt a nudge at her leg. She looked up to find him standing in front of her. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and rubbed her swollen eyes. He was rail thin. Straggly reddish blonde curls hung around his ears in greasy mats. He had the faint odor of garbage. Startled, she said, "you need to go." Sharon swept her arm toward the far end of the beach. He inched closer to her.
She put on her shoes and stood up. "Now go," she said in her most forceful voice. Frustrated at his lack of response, she headed back to the car. Sharon could hear him following close behind. She sped up her steps, he did too…at first. The footsteps behind her were replaced by the sound of a raspy cough…then nothing. Her first thought was to get into her car. Don't turn around, don't look, just go. She had her hand on the car door, "dammit," she sighed as she turned around. He was lying at the edge of the parking lot. He was exhausted from trying to keep up with her. His breathing was labored and came in gasping pants. When he saw her walking toward him, he raised his head in hopeful anticipation.
"You wait here; I'll bring the car closer so you don't have to walk," Sharon shook her head in disbelief. She couldn't believe she was doing this, let alone talking to him. He happily bounded into the back seat of her car. It wasn't long before the garbage smell overwhelmed her and to his delight, she put down the windows. If he wasn't resting his head on her shoulder, he had his head out the window, his face pointing into the wind.
"I'm going to take you to the vet on the corner. We'll get you fixed up and they can find you a home," she said looking into the rearview mirror at him. "Don't look at me with those brown eyes, I've learned my lesson. Brown eyes are nothing but trouble."
His tail thumped against the door.
"Ok, I just have a few forms for you to fill out and we'll take a look at your dog," the receptionist said in an overly cheerful tone.
"He's not my dog," Sharon explained quickly as she looked over the forms. Was she Sharon Flynn or Captain Raydor? She still wasn't used to the name change in her personal life. Just as well, she thought, it didn't look like she would be keeping it anyway. She put her information on the form, leaving much of the dog's information blank.
"Ma'am, I need the dog's name," the receptionist called over the counter.
"As I said, he's not my dog, so call him whatever you like." Sharon looked at her watch impatiently. "Can I just drop him off and pick him up later. I'm running late."
The receptionist assured her they would call when his check up and grooming were complete. She would pick him up then and take him to the animal shelter. It was the reasonable thing to do. By the smell in her car, she would need to have it detailed at some point today also. Sharon hurried back to the condo to clean up before work. She was running almost an hour late. She turned on the shower and as the water warmed, she sent Provenza a quick text.
Provenza stared at the incoming text. "Is she okay?"
"How should I know? We don't talk," Andy took a deep breath, "unless we have to. You know for work."
Shrugging, Provenza held the phone up to Andy, "any idea what this means?"
A faint smile tugged at Andy's lips. Running late to twerk. Stripping for food first, will be in soon.
"It means she's late getting up. She's probably putting on her makeup or doing her hair. Her glasses are on the nightstand by her glass of water. Sharon always keeps water by the bed because she says the night air dries her throat… but let me tell you, night air my ass, when she's tired she snores like a freight train." Andy laughed to himself at the memory, "anyway, rather than stop to retrieve them, she's texting blind." He grew quiet, lost in a sweeter world for a moment.
"Tell me again how you don't love her anymore." Provenza muttered, shaking his head.
"I never said I didn't love her," Andy replied. "Just because I love her it doesn't mean I always have to like her."
Sharon stopped for donuts and coffees for everyone. She even smiled as she handed them out. Andy was in electronics, so she left his on his desk before retreating into her office. Later, she looked up to see him hold up his donut and mouth, "thank you." She smiled in return.
She left promptly at 4pm to make it in time to pick up the dog and then deliver it to the shelter. She was amazed at his transformation. He looked like a golden retriever mix. All traces of the garbage smell were gone from his now shiny coat. The assistant handed the slip leash to Sharon. "Norman, we named him Norman," she said with a smile. "You have a great dog, ma'am."
Sharon corrected her promptly, "he's not my dog. I'm taking him to the animal shelter, I'm sure they'll be able to find him a great home."
Dr. Robinson, the veterinarian, appeared at the counter, "I'm afraid that may not be the case," he said somberly. "Norm here has some serious health issues along with his advanced age, well… it doesn't make for a very good adoption candidate."
"Health issues?" Sharon looked at the obviously happy dog beside her.
"Congestive heart failure. I've prescribed a couple medications to make him more comfortable. One helps his heart to work more efficiently; the other is to relieve the fluid from his chest." He showed her the medications as he elaborated further, "unfortunately, the water pill will require more frequent potty breaks."
Overwhelmed, Sharon said, "I'm sure the shelter will take him in, if I just explain."
"Sadly, with the pet overpopulation, the older ones and the ones with health problems are the first to be euthanized," the doctor said shaking his head.
"Euthanized?" Norman looked up at her. "Well, I'll find somewhere for him to go," she said. "Euthanized," She repeated in disgust as she looked into his pleading brown eyes. Damn those brown eyes, she thought.
Luckily, a dog park wasn't far from the condo and most residents knew better than to cross her for having a pet in the building. Sharon laid down some ground rules; stay off the furniture, be quiet, no making messes. She swore Norman smiled. The first night went without incident. Having a dog living there meant earlier mornings, sometimes being late to work, taking a lunch break to let him out, and leaving at a decent hour at the end of the day. It was unusual behavior for her and it didn't go unnoticed. In only a few days, her mood had lightened. She smiled at Andy…often…and meant it.
He was confused by her change of schedule. He would almost suspect she was seeing someone if it wasn't for her more congenial attitude toward him. Evenings found Norman resting his head in Sharon's lap while she munched popcorn, drank wine and watched television. She covered the sofa with an old sheet and shrugged as she patted the cushion beside her. Obediently, he obliged her request and joined her. The first time he tried to make himself at home in her bed she shoo'd him off, after all a person has to draw the line somewhere. Though after a particularly trying day and lonely night she stood in her bedroom doorway and called, "you coming or not…" Of course he did, and with all the exuberation he could muster. Once again, she had a brown eyed, snoring, bed hog sleeping soundly next to her. Sharon picked up her phone. She wanted to call him. It was late. Maybe a short text. She stared at the screen, unable to find the words she needed to say.
After a fitful night of sleep, she readied herself for work. Norman coughed more and she replayed the events of the last couple of weeks over in her head more than usual. She and Andy needed to talk, but she wanted him to make the first move. She had to know he actually wanted to make this work.
She was lost in a stack of reports when the door of her office swung open. "Rusty," she jumped up from her desk and rushed to give him a hug. "You're back!"
"Do you know there is a dog sleeping on my sofa?" he asked while still locked in her embrace. "And why is your stuff back in the condo?"
"He's not my dog," she explained as she patted his back. She gave him a brief upbeat explanation of the break she and Andy were taking and assured him the dog was only temporary until he found a home.
"Ah, I see," he said, "I guess you have this thing for taking in strays." He smiled and thought for a moment. She gave him a frown. "If you are moved back into your room, then Gus can take my room, but I'm not sharing the sofa with a dog," Rusty whined.
"His name is Norman and sleeps with me. You can have the sofa," Sharon whispered.
"Norman is sleeping with you?" Rusty exclaimed loudly.
Sharon quickly ushered Rusty into her office, but not before most of the division, especially Andy, heard his last statement. Andy clenched his jaw. "I knew it," he growled. Provenza followed him as he continued in a rage down the hallway.
"Now wait a minute," Provenza grabbed his arm, "this is the Captain we're talking about. That woman may be many things, but she's no cheater. I shouldn't have to tell you that."
Andy shook loose from his partner's grip. Shaking his head, he continued down the hallway. Provenza watched him punch at the elevator button and hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid.
The current case was at a stand still. Frustrated, Sharon sent the division home early in hopes fresh eyes would see the evidence in a different light in the morning. She told Lieutenant Provenza to let Andy know they were leaving since he hadn't returned to the murder room. "I don't want to pry," Provenza began cautiously.
"Then don't," she gave his arm a pat and turned for the door.
"Idiots," he said under his breath, but loudly enough for her to hear.
Sharon was anxious to get home, let out the dog, take a blistering hot shower and drink a glass of wine. She had just turned on the shower when her phone buzzed. She wrapped her robe around her and shut off the shower. She looked at the caller ID and sat on the edge of the tub, "hello, Andy."
"Umm, I just want to say, I'm going to make this easy for you. I'm having papers drawn up, you can have what you want." Which is obviously not me, he thought.
"But, Andy," her heart was pounding out of her chest.
Before she could say anything else he said, "I'm sorry," and the line went silent.
She clutched her chest, she couldn't breathe. They had lost sight of who they once were and in becoming the strangers they are now; they had lost each other.
She got to her office early the next morning. She pulled the shades and shut the door. Methodically, Sharon sorted through stacks of reports and files full of evidence, dreading the moment Andy appeared with divorce papers. Her phone buzzed. "It's Norman," Rusty said, "I think… I'm afraid he might be dying."
"I'll be right there," she said. She gathered her things and rushed out of the office.
She wanted to run lights and sirens to the vet's office, but she gathered what common sense she had left and broke most traffic laws instead. They immediately rushed him into an exam room. After reviewing the tests, the doctor called her into his office. Dr. Robinson motioned for her to have a seat as he took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair, "I'm afraid Norman has gotten significantly worse. I can increase the dosage of his medications. Unfortunately, it will also increase the severity of the side effects."
"But the medications will help, right?"
The doctor tried to be compassionate and truthful. "Maybe for a while, but you may have to consider quality of life and …"
She waved her hand before he could finish. She found herself at a loss for words and led Norman to her car. He climbed into the back seat with less zeal than usual, but he was quick to rest his head on her shoulder. She looked at him in the rearview mirror. Damn brown eyes, I should have known better. You're leaving me too. Why does everybody have to leave? Why was I so stupid to let you in, to even love you? There, I admit it. Are you happy? I love you and you're letting go, damn those brown eyes.
She was sobbing by the time the receptionist tapped on her window. She rolled down her window and the young woman handed her the prescriptions, "you forgot these. Are you all right? Do you want me to call someone?" Sharon shook her head no. I don't think there's anyone to call anymore, she thought.
Andy regretted his words the minute he said them. He hoped she would try to stop him from filing. He wished she would give him some sign that she still loved him. Sharon only said, but Andy, and before she could say, but Andy, I'm in love with someone else, he hung up. He should have left her clothes boxed up. After their ridiculous fight over painting the bedroom, he decided to have it done while she was visiting Ricky to surprise her. He didn't know why he didn't explain the packed boxes to her. Maybe it was resentment for always being the one to give in, but what was painting a stupid bedroom in comparison to losing the woman he'd loved for years. Provenza was right; he was an idiot. He stopped on the way to work and picked up a bouquet of flowers. He was going to march into her office, pull the blinds and with flowers in hand, ask her to come home.
He arrived to an empty office. He placed the vase of daisies on her desk as Lt Tao walked by and shrugged, "she ran out of here a couple hours ago."
His first thought was that she was running to him, that Norman guy. His heart sank. He picked up the vase. No point in these now, he thought.
Sharon drove back to the office with the dog in tow. If he was going to have to go out frequently and needed closer supervision, he'd have to go to work with her until she could see if Rusty could help out. She hated to ask, but it was a desperate situation. Desperate situations required desperate measures, and Chief Taylor would just have to deal with her highly trained police dog being at her side. She laughed at the thought. She was becoming a rule breaker. She looked in the rearview mirror at him, "and it's all your fault," she said with a hint of a smile.
She got questioning stares as she walked through the murder room, but no one had the courage to ask. She reached the door of her office just as Andy was leaving. "You have a dog," he said.
"You have flowers," she said.
He grinned and handed them to her, "no, you have flowers."
"Hmm, thank you," she hummed, "by the way, this is Norman… and he's not mine."
"This is Norman?" Andy nearly shouted in surprise. "Norman's a dog." Relief flooded his face.
"Sshh," Sharon brought her finger to her lips, "he doesn't know." She stepped inside her office and motioned Andy to follow. She closed the door behind them, "he's a stray."
He reached for her hand, "you always had a thing for saving strays." He arched his brow.
She gave him much the same frown as she gave Rusty. "He's sick and old," she bit at her lip, not wanting to cry again. "He's on medication that makes him have to pee all of the time, he's here so I can get him outside when he needs to go and watch over him."
"You know; he could live with me. I'm in that big house alone, with a big back yard and no one there to enjoy it with me," he pulled her a little closer and she didn't resist. "Mr. Mulloy from next door would be glad to check on him and let him out when I'm at work."
"I don't know," she said, "I've grown rather attached and we're kind of in this together. I don't think I can let go."
"You could move back with him, it would only be fair," he hugged her tightly to his chest. "I'm kind of attached also, and I don't want to let go." She looked up into his eyes and she remembered all the things she loved about him. Damn brown eyes anyway. "Let's go home and get Norman settled," Andy flashed that sexy lopsided grin.
The next morning, she awoke in their freshly painted bedroom to the snoring of the two brown- eyed gents who took up most of the room in her bed and her heart. Quietly, she slipped from under the covers and crept to the kitchen to make breakfast. While the casserole baked, she unloaded the dishwasher. She took out the mixing bowls and stacked them carefully. She was about to put them in the cupboard by the stove, but turned instead to put them in the drawer by the sink.
"They're just mixing bowls," he said.
She shrugged, "There's more room in the drawers; it makes more sense to do it your way." He hugged her from behind and kissed her on the neck. Norman plodded down the hallway and parked himself at the patio door. "Want out, old man?" Andy asked as he opened the door.
"Perhaps, we should join him and have breakfast on the patio," Sharon suggested.
Norman waited hopefully for a morsel to drop and when it didn't, he delighted himself in rolling in the cool, plush grass. Andy squeezed her hand, "I'm just that happy right now."'
Her eyes moistened as she watched the dog she hadn't known she needed squeeze out every ounce of joy he could from the life he had left. Norman was teaching her well. She squeezed Andy's hand in return.
Andy knew days would come when he didn't like her as much as he did today, but there would never come a day he didn't love her.
Norman tossed a stick into the air and wagged his tail wildly. A smile, nearly as bright as the sunrise, spread across Sharon's face. "Yes, I'm just that happy too," she whispered.