Stepping Stones.
AN: This is my attempt at filling in some of the blank Shandy spaces left by the show and its evil troll overlord, James Duff, starting in season one. I've tried to stay fairly close to canon and to stay in-character, so it's safe to say that this will be a slow-burning fic. Yeah, sorry about that. :/
Chapter One is set in S1x01 (Reloaded). I remember reading somewhere that Duff said this was the ep in which Sharon gained Andy's respect and I wanted to spend some time exploring that. Special thanks to Tvfreakd for looking this over in the very early stages, to Winsomewitch for the beautiful cover pic, and to Olafurneal, my knowledgeable beta. All mistakes remain mine as I've probably altered this after her editing… Hope you enjoy!
The past is a stepping stone, not a millstone.
- Robert Plant
Chapter One: Not a Millstone.
Tao was checking bullet trajectories when he noticed it – a flash of navy that slipped from his line of sight as quickly as it had entered. "What the-?!" Panning right and adjusting for focus he bit back a groan. Navy trench-coat. Never a good sign. Bracing himself, he dipped his monocular down the length of two remarkably toned legs, elongated by a pair of pumps his wife would give her right arm for. Louboutin's, if the red lacquered soles were anything to go by. Definitely not a good sign.
Hoping against all available evidence that he wasn't about to see Captain Sharon Raydor at the perimeter of the crime scene, Tao pulled the monocular away from his eye.
Captain Sharon Raydor stood at the perimeter of the crime scene, circling the four bodies that were quietly oozing blood onto the hot parking-lot asphalt. And she did not look pleased.
Struck by the sudden urge to re-asses the other side of the parking lot, Tao beat a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. He did, however, manage to cough out a warning to the rest of the team as he hurried past the incident tent. "Wicked Witch, eleven o'clock!"
Inside the tent Lieutenant Provenza swore loudly. "The scent of blood and officer-involved shooting must have summoned her," he groused, lifting his eyes from the on-site murder board and jerking his head towards the exit. "Flynn?"
Nodding, Andy stepped towards the tarp's edge. It took only a moment to locate the figure everyone else seemed to be giving a wide berth at eleven o'clock. "It's her."
Provenza let lose a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush. Andy thought he heard something that sounded suspiciously like 'why me?' nestled amongst the profanity and couldn't help but chuckle, "Hey, give it an hour, maybe two, and she'll be back on her broom!"
This drew an involuntary snort from the third person in the tent.
"You are both aware that I'm filming this, right?"
Provenza glared in the direction of Buzz's camera. At 4K resolution it was not a pretty sight. "If you have a problem with our conduct, Mr. Watson, you can edit that blasted thing later. Just remember that this crime scene is Robbery-Homicide and FID's screw up, not ours, and that we have an armed madman to locate!"
Buzz waited until the Lieutenant turned back to murder board before rolling his eyes. Provenza knew that editing crime-scene footage was illegal. He just wanted to send Raydor a message, should she review the recording... which they all knew she would. "It's a good job I understand your sense of humour," Buzz murmured, ducking out of the tent to join Julio and the coroner by the bodies.
Andy watched him go, hovering near the edge of the tarp. He was supposed to be liaising with Special Agent Howard on the identities of their killers – veterans, most likely – but a quick scan of the parking lot told him that Fritz was still on the phone, and the ominous staccato of heels was getting nearer…
Figuring it wouldn't hurt to look occupied, Andy pulled a notebook from his pocket and started making illegible case notes. Raydor really hated those. He was just starting page two, taking care to make his handwriting as close to 'chicken-scratch' as possible, when Chief Taylor strode into his peripheral vision. Taylor at a crime scene was odd in itself, but what really drew Andy's attention was the way Raydor was instantly on the defensive, stance widening, hands finding her hips through her trademark coat. Now that was interesting.
Pretending to focus on his notes Andy strolled out from the tent, watching through curious glances as Taylor interrupted the ice queen's lonely orbit. He couldn't hear much from his position – their voices were carefully muted – but their body language spoke volumes. The chief seemed to dominate the conversation, hands puncturing the air repeatedly as a thick grin sallowed his face. Raydor looked… well, like Raydor always did: grim-faced and tight-lipped and hotter than hell. That irritated Andy to no end. Luckily, Taylor and Raydor's conversation continued only for about a minute more before the Captain gave a sharp nod and veered towards the incident tent, forcing Andy to duck back inside.
"…they split up to enter the store – never did that before. They hit a place with a silent alarm – never did that before," Detective Miller shook his head, looking away from Provenza towards the bodies. "I just thought these guys were smarter than this."
"Incoming," Andy warned, sidling up to them.
Miller took one look over Andy's shoulder and visibly paled. "I'd better check on Sykes – you know, make sure she's okay… Find me later if you have further questions."
Provenza groaned as Miller double-timed it out of the tent, nearly crashing into one of the tarp's supports in his haste to escape. "Ye gawds, Flynn," he muttered with a shake of his head. "That woman puts the fear of FID into- Captain!" With a smile that was half scowl, half grimace, Provenza turned to welcome his 'favourite' member of Force Investigation Division into the tent.
Preparing for another dressing down, Andy did the same.
Sharon strode towards them, chin up, "Lieutenant Provenza, Lieutenant Flynn, sorry to be running so behind." She pressed her lips together as Taylor blundered in behind her, sans grace. Every bone in her body was telling her that today was not the day for this, not with three divisions and the FBI working on an officer-involved shooting, but Taylor was adamant; it was now or never. Her hands were tied. "Could you bring me up to speed?"
Andy felt the tell-tale rush of heat that accompanied a spike in his blood pressure. Who the hell did Raydor think they were – her flying FID monkeys?! He met Provenza's gaze, seeing his own thoughts reflected back at him, and together the men turned their backs on Raydor. It was a childish way of undermining her authority to be sure, but it got the job done. "Flynn," Provenza ground out, jaw clenched, "make sure that paperwork is in order so when Agent-"
"Lieutenants."
The sound of Taylor's displeasure cut through the conversation like a scalpel, sharp and precise. Andy tamped down on his anger, following Provenza's lead as he turned back to face the Chief (and Raydor) reluctantly. If he didn't know any better he'd almost say she looked uncomfortable…
"The Captain was transferred from Force Investigation Division to Major Crimes," Taylor announced, without preamble or fanfare, as straight as he could shoot it, "making her your ranking officer – effective immediately."
Provenza nearly laughed out loud. For a second there, he'd honestly thought Taylor had said-
"And I need a briefing," Raydor observed, pointedly.
Andy blinked.
Once, when he was around nine or ten, Josh Parker had dared him to climb the tallest tree in their neighbourhood. Being young and eager to impress, Andy had agreed. He was twelve feet up when the branch gave out beneath his sneakers, plunging him (and it) downwards. The force of his back meeting the ground knocked every wisp of breath from his lungs; he couldn't inhale, couldn't exhale… he just lay there, stunned.
That was exactly how Andy felt now.
Raydor's gaze was on him, cool and calculating. She seemed to be searching for something in his expression – probably assessing him, finding him wanting. He watched as her eyes narrowed just a fraction before flickering over to Provenza, resting heavily there. "Briefing, Lieutenant. Now."
Yup, Andy observed, the world once more slipped out from under his feet. They were screwed.
Little did he know that Sharon was thinking much the same thing.
Later, as the Wicked Witch was settling into her new office, rearranging furniture so that the desk was facing the murder room – facing them, Andy reflected that they probably should have seen this one coming. Taylor had never been a fan of Major Crimes, especially since Chief Johnson's civil suit… so there was no way in hell he'd trust the leadership of their division to one of their own, even if the person in line really deserved it. It was goddamn politics, plain and simple.
The reign of Raydor unfolded in front of Andy like a slow-speed car crash; Provenza would resign, he and Julio would be chained to their desks and anger management sessions, Buzz would go one snarky comment too far and get dismissed... Tao might make it, he thought optimistically.
When Provenza pulled a cardboard box from storage and started packing up his desk, Andy's fists clenched so tight that his knuckles turned white.
By mid-afternoon his thoughts were downright mutinous. Propped against a wall outside of the morgue, Andy knew that he was scowling but couldn't bring himself to stop. Who the hell was Raydor to be giving them orders? Did Taylor really think a few weeks observing Major Crimes was all it took to solve murders?! The whole thing was a joke.
Sharon chose to ignore Andy as she glanced up from the file Agent Howard had dropped off. As a member of FID she'd had neither the time nor the inclination to indulge every minor act of insubordination, and she wasn't about to start now. "Lieutenant Tao," she said instead, addressing the more co-operative member of the team. "Do you think we should try and find out if our marine private here- uuuh, what's his name?"
Andy's scowl deepened.
"Randall John," Tao replied, side-eyeing him warily.
"Yes," Sharon agreed. "Do you think we should find out if Private John and the young man Lieutenant Flynn spoke to in the car were shot with the same gun?"
Tao dipped his head, "I'll get right on that."
She thanked him distractedly, letting his sarcasm slide, and returned her attention to the FBI file.
Andy knew a dismissal when he saw one and stubbornly settled more of his weight against the corridor wall. If the Wicked Witch though she could get rid of him that easily, she had another thing coming. Tao caught his eye as he headed for the lifts, seemingly unsurprised when Andy shook his head. "See you later then," Tao murmured, though it sounded suspiciously more like 'your funeral' than anything else.
In a matter of seconds Tao's footsteps faded away around the bend of the corridor, leaving behind a heavy silence in their wake.
They were alone.
For a moment, neither Captain nor Lieutenant moved. Andy kept his glare firmly fixed on Raydor's face, and Sharon maintained her focus on the FBI file. But as the silence stretched taut between them, becoming fragile – brittle – Sharon knew that it would be unwise to ignore Andy's anger any longer. It was simmering just below the surface, contained, but barely so. Much better that he got it off his chest now, in private, than blow up in the middle of the murder room. Bracing herself for an oncoming storm, she dragged her eyes away from the file to consider him, coolly, over the rim of her glasses. "Yes?"
A fresh wave of anger surged through Andy, hot and heady. He wanted to take Raydor by the shoulders and shake until her composure cracked. He wanted to scream that she couldn't do this – she couldn't just swoop in on her goddamn broom and ruin everything Major Crimes had worked for, for the last seven years.
But he didn't.
Instead he used a technique he'd picked up in one of those anger management courses she tormented officers with, and pulled a long, deep breath of formaldehyde-tinged air into his lungs. "The kid you're describing as 'the young man in the car'? Call him Larry Martin." He pushed himself off the morgue wall, towering above her. "When working homicide it's good to know your victims by name. And I have to tell you, Captain, in the custody of any other police department in this country, Larry would have been taken someplace safe and allowed to confess – which he was ready to do!"
Andy took a step forward, wanting to intimidate, but Raydor stood her ground, manila folder tucked carefully into her chest. The urge to shake her returned tenfold. "But, because of some bullshit regulation that you put into place at FID, some stupid policy that when shots are fired, suspects must remain at a crime scene, Larry Martin got his head shot off!" He was close to yelling now, satisfaction shooting through him when Raydor's gaze dropped to the floor. Good. Let her sweat. Let her feel the weight of what she'd done. "Every single problem that we're having in this investigation- especially not knowing who the hell we're looking for- every problem we're having is because of you!"
She had heard enough. Thrusting the folder into his chest Sharon stepped backwards, tearing her protective morgue scrubs off in three precise movements. "Andy," she said, plunging the gown into the bin on her left. "You are right about that."
Surprise seeped into his expression.
"The LAPD is the only police department in this country that would have held Larry Martin on-site for questioning," she reminded, head tilted, waiting for him to catch up.
"Yeah?" Andy's mind was whirring a mile a minute, struggling to switch from pissed-off subordinate to pissed-off detective. Then the same brainwave that must have hit Raydor struck Andy, "Yeah!"
"So how did the killer know that he could circle back around and Larry Martin would still be there?!"
For the first time since she had joined their investigation, Andy decided Sharon Raydor had a point. "That's a very good question," he admitted, sinking onto the bench at the side of the corridor. He started flipping through the Gun Heaven user list, certain he'd missed something…
Sharon perched on the bench's edge. "When you think about it, these young men seem to know quite a lot about the LAPD's investigation." She peered around his shoulder, almost birdlike, "Didn't Detective Miller say that he tried to predict their targets, but every store he was sitting on, they were somewhere else?"
He nodded, still working his way through the user list. "And Miller said every male member of his family had been in the military… every male member, including his son, who I bet lives at home." Trailing a finger down the alphabetised list, Andy came to a stop under one G. Miller. Surprise gave way to a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. So that was how the group of veterans had always been one step ahead of Robbery/Homicide… They'd had an inside man.
"Greg is Detective Miller's youngest son," he managed, meeting Raydor's sad gaze. Even as the words tumbled from his mouth he realized that she'd already pieced it together for herself.
Rising from the bench, she nodded grimly. "Let's bring him in."
Later, after the DDA made a deal with Greg that nearly had Provenza storming from the room, Andy admitted that he might have underestimated Raydor a little… Okay, a lot. The damn woman had picked up on the oneclue that had led to Greg's arrest; the veterans had consistently been one step ahead of the LAPD, for months. That sort of thing didn't just happen by chance. Miller would never have suspected his own son of being part of the group he was working to bring down, nor realized he was unwittingly feeding them information every night at his own dinner table. And, as much as Andy hated to acknowledge it, it was unlikely that anyone in Major Crimes would have thought to look at one of their own as a potential leak… even after Gabriel.
But Raydor had. It was second nature for her to be critical of LAPD officers and, in the end, her experience of FID investigations had actually been a help to the case instead of a hindrance. Andy chuckled bitterly. Raydor being useful... God, he needed a meeting.
Scrubbing a hand over his just-emerging stubble, he started shutting down his computer, surprised to spot Agent Howard moving through the empty murder room with what looked like a paper-bag crumpled under one arm.
"Flynn," Fritz greeted, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Never one for subtlety, Andy stared pointedly at the bag. Fritz came to a halt by Andy's desk. "Apparently Brenda left some… important items in her desk drawer," he explained, scratching his neck.
Eyebrows rising towards his hairline, Andy leaned back in his chair, "You on a Ding Dog run, Special Agent?"
"Tell anyone about this and not even the FBI will be able to find your body."
Andy grinned. The chief still loved her Ding Dongs. There was a comfort in that familiarity. "Well, Provenza's got the place all 'warmed up' for you," he joked, jabbing a thumb towards the office behind him.
Fritz took a few steps towards Raydor's door, stopping when he could see the tense lines of Provenza's back and the Captain's icy expression through the half-drawn blinds. "You know, she's not all bad, once you get to know her…"
"Really."
There was the sarcasm Flynn was famous for. Fritz smiled, turning back to face him. "Really. Guess who filed as Rusty's emergency guardian?"
If Andy hadn't been sitting down, he probably would have fallen down. "She's taking the kid in?!"
"Filled two days ago," Fritz confirmed. "Guess she knew no one else would." Arching a dark eyebrow, he stepped up to Raydor's office and gave the door a quick rap. "See ya, Flynn."
Fritz let himself in and something suspiciously like shame settled in Andy's gut. Luckily he didn't have time to dwell on it as Provenza blustered out of the office, nearly-but-not-quite slamming the door behind Fritz.
Andy was on his feet in an instant. "How'd it go?"
"It went." Provenza stomped over to his desk, ignoring the boxes he'd packed earlier in favour of snatching up his jacket and car keys. "See you tomorrow," he shot over his shoulder, muttering darkly to himself as he headed for the elevators.
"See you tomorrow," Andy echoed weakly, alone in the murder room once more.
Well, at least Provenza hadn't resigned. That was something.
Turning to face Raydor's office, he watched as Fritz and the Captain finished emptying out Chief Johnson's treat drawer, chatting amicably together. Something in his heart pulled painfully when Fritz handed the last Ding Dong to Raydor, instead of bagging it with the others. It was just a cake, Andy reasoned, but it felt final somehow – like the passing of a torch. Then, in a move that surprised him, Raydor tucked the Ding Dong away into a tatty old rucksack at the edge of her desk.
Rusty, he realized. She was giving it to Rusty.
Disgusted (though with who he was unwilling to say), Andy swiped his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the exit. If traffic was good he'd make the tail end of the 7 pm AA meeting near Echo Park. If not, he'd wait in a diner for the 8:30. Either way, he had some things he needed to get off his chest… like God help them all, Raydor might actually be good at this.
It was a terrifying thought.
