It's been months since the troll did the unthinkable, making me practically do a rage quit on MC writing. Since then, I've gotten back into the writing groove with the fathership prompt escapewithstories and I are working on (and which you can find on her ffnet profile under the title 'The Same, Yet Different'), but that rage is still there. The other day the two of us started talking, or rather complaining, about Duff again, and the next morning, fueled by the resurgence of anger and frustration at how things turned out in canon, I spat this out. Call it a fix-it-fic if you will.

As always, my trusted beta escapewithstories looked this over, but any remaining mistakes are my own.

I hope you enjoy the result of my never ending rage and bitterness. :)

PROMISE ME

When Sharon arrived home, she found Andy's car parked down in the garage, but upon entering the condo couldn't find Andy anywhere. He hadn't left a note, be it on paper or digitally, and when he didn't even pick up his phone, she started to worry. It wasn't like him to be unreachable, unless he was in court or at an AA meeting, and even in those instances, she knew perfectly well where he was and that he would be in touch the moment he could.

Before worry could turn into panic, she called Rusty, hoping he had seen Andy before he went out. Thankfully he had, allowing her to take a deep calming breath and to finally locate her elusive husband.

Andy didn't notice the heavy door as Sharon opened and shut it. In fact, he seemed so lost in thought, he didn't even hear her heeled footsteps echo along the tiled floor.

That renewed Sharon's worry. Especially seeing as this place was where she came to relax, to at least soothe some of the inner turmoil she sometimes felt, be it because of a case, her family or both. Andy, however, seemed anything but relaxed.

His socks were tucked into his shoes and they sat to his right, abandoned. His jacket was off, folded neatly next to his shoes. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves and although Sharon couldn't properly see it yet, his pant legs had been hitched up to his knees and his lower legs submerged into the pool at whose edge he sat. His hands were clutching the edge so tightly the outline of his veins was prominent on the underside of his forearms.

He looked like a tormented man and the realization wrapped around Sharon's heart more tightly than the illness she was battling. Andy didn't stir even when she walked up to him, pausing to his right to let her heels join his shoes. She slipped out of her stockings too, and stuffed them into her empty heels, then finally reached Andy's left side.

In greeting, hoping not to startle him, she gently dragged her hand down his shoulder blade, and her heart constricted even more at the feel of his wound muscles, which seemed to stiffen even more at the touch, but quickly, ever so slightly relaxed when he turned his head and realized it was her.

Just like he always did whenever he greeted her, he smiled. Sharon's first instinct was to smile back, and she started to until her eyes fell on his. By the time her gaze reached his mouth, even the beginnings of her smile vanished. "Andy," she whispered, dropping down to the edge next to him, dipping her feet into the water as well. His eyes were glistening with suppressed tears, and his jaw was so tightly clenched, the vein in his neck protruded noticeably in his neck, and she was certain she could count his heartbeat by merely looking at it. How the toothpick that she hadn't seen in forever, but was now stuck between his lips, hadn't snapped in two was beyond her. "What happened?" she asked, placing her hand back on his shoulder blade, a number of scenarios filling her mind, each new one worse than the previous.

He reached for her hand, trapping it between his hand and knee, and scoffed faintly. His response came in a low, gravelly grumble. "You happened."

That was one scenario that didn't cross her mind, although it should have. He'd been doubly worried ever since her last trip to the hospital and he hadn't been as successful at hiding it as he thought he was. "I'm fine, Andy." For the first time since she'd told him about her diagnosis, the words weren't exasperatedly assuring, but sounded heartfelt and honest. "The papers for my leave have been signed and dotted." She scooted closer to him, resting her head against the side of his arm. "I'm fighting this thing now full time."

Removing his toothpick, he took a deep breath and moved a leg, disturbing the water. His heavy exhale did very little to loosen his stiff posture. "I really need you to, Sharon."

His voice shook with so much emotion, Sharon pressed impossibly closer into his side. She tangled her fingers with his atop his knee, and squeezed. "I just have to wrap everything up so the Lieutenant can officially take over," she told him reassuringly. It was why she had been home later than Andy that day, she had started preparing everything for Provenza. "After that, I'll need a visitor's badge to get past the PAB lobby," she added on a small smile, "much less step on the ninth floor."

He didn't laugh at her little humorous note. He just squeezed her hand back. "Good."

With that seemingly settled, they lapsed into silence. However, Andy didn't relax. Sharon could feel it underneath the cheek pressed into his arm, and she waited for a few moments, hoping it would be enough to coax more words out of him, but when it didn't, she lightly tapped her foot against his. "What is it, Andy?" There was no hiding the increasing concern in her voice. As worried about her as he was, he had never allowed her to see just how much. What finally brought down the walls he had so carefully put up in order to shield her from it she couldn't even try to guess.

He shrugged, jostling her head a little. "I've been thinking."

She moved her left hand, tracing the knuckles of his that was still tangled with her right. "About?" she encouraged gently.

"About hell on earth," he answered gruffly, and there was a touch of anger in his tone as well.

Even though they weren't designed to elicit this response from her, she smiled a little at his words, so typical of him, and lifted her head to get a proper look at him.

He met her eyes for the briefest of moments before casting them down to their feet. He went on without further prompting. "I try not to," he shook his head as if annoyed by himself, "because I know it won't do either you or me any good, and I'm here for you every step of the way." He suddenly pinned her with a hard, determined look. "We will kick this thing's ass, okay? But," his eyes fell onto the hand covering his, and he took it with his free one, a thumb tracing the outline of the rings he'd put on her finger, "I can't help it. The what if." He sounded so disappointed in himself, and what was more, so utterly afraid.

She saw no need to tell him that she knew perfectly what hell he imagined. She'd done so herself on more than one occasion, and he was well aware of that. Instead, since he mentioned what ifs, she decided to delve a little deeper into that shared horror and the realities they might have to face. Gently, because she had no intention of being cruel, she informed him, "I've started working on updating my will."

He inhaled sharply, and a feeble smile crossed his lips. "I know."

Her eyes widened. She hadn't been keeping it from him, but she had only started jotting some notes down that morning before work, hadn't had time yet to tell him.

As if reading her mind, he said, "You left your notes open on the nightstand." He didn't sound accusing, he knew her well enough to be certain she was going to discuss it with him. After all, she had told him about receiving last rites.

"Is that," her voice thinned because she said the words on a sigh, pulling back a little to look him in the eye, "what brought this on? Andy," she put even more distance between them, an upset crease forming between her eyes, "if the worst does come to pass, I need to know that my children will be-"

"No," he interrupted quickly, shaking his head, then amending the word to, "that's not it. Or maybe it is. I mean, I agree with you about the kids and all, okay?" He looked at her, making sure she believed him, then shrugged as he prepared to change the topic. "You said the other day," he started, seemingly lost in thought, "that this is the happiest you've ever been."

When he didn't continue, she leaned into him again. "It is."

He turned his head to look at her, and smiled, a simple, "Me, too," on his lips.

He was looking at her as a lost puppy might, all soft, lost, honest eyes. It melted her heart a little and she lifted her head to kiss him.

When she pulled back, he had his eyes closed and was still smiling. It was the most relaxed she'd seen him since finding him. She gave his cheek a gentle caress of encouragement, knowing he had more to say, and soon enough he opened his eyes and did.

"You can't go yet, alright?" His hand found her cheek and his thumb trailed the curve of her bottom lip. He was pleading with her, as if she might have every intention of doing precisely that. He seemed panicked, and what suddenly brought it on so obviously only further baffled her. "For God's sake, Sharon," he raised his voice fractionally and there was suddenly a force with which he pressed into her cheek, only it wasn't threatening, but rather desperate and imploring, "I know I'm not the easiest guy to put up with, but you don't get to throw in the towel just yet." He chuckled lamely, when she slapped him with a look that didn't find him as funny as he wanted to be, but sobered quickly. "We've just started out together," he rested his forehead against hers, "there's not much left for me that's worth living for if you make me do so alone."

Her eyes filled with tears and her throat closed up, but she choked out a broken, "Andy." She wanted to disagree, give him a whole host of things still worth living for, but he wouldn't let her even try to continue.

"No," he said fiercely, pulling back. "I need you to promise me." He dropped his hand from her cheek, angling his body so that he was fully facing her, then grabbed both of her hands. "Tomorrow, you let Provenza and me take care of the case and you just focus on wrapping up your loose ends."

She found the strength to roll her eyes at him. "Finishing this case won't kill me."

Andy shook his head. "I've seen your latest medical updates, I've been with the doc and you when he gave us those updates, remember?" His tone was sarcastic, but no nonsense. "You can't risk another episode." Fear flashed in his eyes clearly as day. "So I won't allow it. I'll drag you out of that murder room if I have to."

"Oh, is that so?" She quirked an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, her earlier emotion quickly being replaced by annoyance. She didn't appreciate being forbidden from doing things by her superior officers who were well within their legal right to do so. She appreciated it even less coming from her husband.

Andy lifted a finger to her face, rubbing it against her upturned eyebrow, not worried about offending her in the least. "Yeah, that's so." He released her eyebrow when she bobbed it back down. "I'm done just standing by and praying. And if you wanna get mad about that, save it for when you're alive and well and won't be risking a heart attack while chewing me out." He took a breath, some of the heat simmering down and his tone softening as he added, "I'm sorry, but you can't honestly expect me to-"

"Okay," she interrupted, surprising even herself with the sudden acquiescence.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Okay?"

"Yeah." She grabbed the finger that now hung limply in the air between them, and wrapped her hand around his. She had caused him enough worry lately. Stepping away from a single case when it was nearly closed anyway was the least she could do for him. Besides, she agreed. They'd only just started their journey together. She had no intention of cutting it short if she could help it. "No more risks. I'll let your partner," she said pointedly, "take charge of the case tomorrow."

"You promise?"

The question almost put a smile on her face. It was like a child seeking blind reassurance rather than a grown man looking for hope where he worried might be none. "You're right," she nodded, "It'll be a bit of a challenge to be mad at you from the great beyond."

For a moment, he blinked stupidly at her before barking out a laugh. She smiled, happy to see his body finally fully relax. "Thank you," he told her, then clasped her face to kiss her. "I love you," he added when they pulled apart.

She grinned. "I noticed," she said teasingly.

He didn't find her funny this time, and turned to face the pool again, leaning back on his hands, swaying his submerged legs back and forth in the process. "I mean it," he told her, and she tilted her head to the side to get a look at his face even though he remained focused on the water. "I love you so much it actually hurts sometimes. To sentence me to just loving your memory..." his voice thickened and he swallowed, tightening his jaw again, "...the idea alone is suffocating." He spared her an apologetic glance, hoping she knew he wasn't trying to make this about him. "It just is," he added on a helpless shrug.

Sharon was familiar with that kind of pain, unpleasant and pleasant at the same time. She squeezed a hand between his arm and side and carefully wrapped herself around his torso, coincidentally resting her head against the spot where his heart beat the loudest. "I know," she said softly and honestly. Andy straightened, wrapping his arms around her, making her sigh contently, before she suddenly asked, "Toothpicks?"

He took a deep breath, tucking her head under his chin and tightening his hold on her a little. "Today was just that kind of day," he explained lamely. She hummed, encouraging him to continue. "Seeing that beginning of a will only," she felt him swallow, "pushed all my panic to the foreground. It was either that," he finally admitted, pointing a hand at the discarded toothpick, "drowning in this pool or in a bottle."

Sharon liked to think that she had a good grasp on the struggle and the work he put into dealing with what life threw at him without falling back into addictive coping mechanisms, but the truth was, she understood only the bare minimum of it. If she did, she wouldn't be feeling this guilty over being the cause of his latest challenge in that regard. She wanted to say sorry, but he would just brush her off, so instead, she asked, "What can I do to help?"

He kissed her hair softly. "You're already helping more than you will ever know."

His words were honest and heart-warming. She tangled her legs with his, making the water slosh around violently, and virtually melted into him. "But it would probably help more if I didn't die on you," she muttered mirthlessly.

He chuckled, shaking her, but said seriously, "My struggling would still not be your fault." He dropped another kiss into her hair and added more lightly, "Besides, you're not going anywhere. You promised, and," his tone over that last word had her pry her head away from his chest and look up at him, "I won't allow it."

This time, being mad at his overprotective self didn't even cross her mind and she laughed. Once more sober, she remembered his earlier words and said, "We will beat this thing's butt."

He grinned. "Ass," he corrected, pecking the tip of her nose.

She snorted into his chest. "Yes, ass," she mumbled in agreement.

And beat it, they did.

*MIC DROP*

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.