A/N: Sharon's death in "Conspiracy Theory" dishonored the loyal fans of Major Crimes. We had been promised no more principals would die and then this! So, like others of us out there in fandom, I decided to rectify the situation. We will give Sharon the happier ending that you gave her.
What Are You Doing Here?
Sharon was suddenly gently transported to a place she'd never seen before. The last thing she could clearly remember was yelling, no goading, the widow, Vicky Landon, into admitting what they all knew to be true. She knew Provenza was instinctually right - "it's always the wife!" Who but the wife could be so personal in the execution of her celebrity husband. The others had been killed without the same level of malice. Vanessa, sadly, had to be contained unlike Bonny Pearl who was helpless to defend herself in the car seat. She felt a little sad and angry that the widow had thrown her own son under the bus on the way down. The son was as arrogant as the father, but he was not guilty of any crime other than being an oversexed, young jerk.
Now she found herself here, of all places. It was obviously not the hospital room she figured she'd eventually awaken in. No, it was just a dreary grey. She mused and how folks were falling all over themselves to decorate in grey these days. Why not a cheery color or a warm color or a nature color; no, it was a grey, like a dirty fog. However, Sharon did not feel oppressed like a dirty fog should make her feel. The grey was not heavy at all. There was something in the grey that even felt hopeful, not encouraging, but, yes, hopeful. Then as she turned around to see what might be in the grey, she saw a light at quite a long distance from where she was now. There was some kind of shadow moving toward her out of the light. In the blink of an eye, the shadow stood before her.
"What are you doing here?" the person demanded.
"Who are you?" Sharon demanded back.
"I'm your guardian angel," replied the Being.
Sharon stood transfixed for a long moment, just blinking, not thinking. She then opened her mouth, "But you don't look like an angel."
The Being laughed hard and joyfully. With shoulders still moving, "Well, no I guess I don't. At least not one of those angels from your Christmas collection."
"You don't have wings!" she exclaimed. "Are you trying to 'earn your wings' like movie angels? I'm not playing that game."
The Being smiled, "Not all angels have wings. Most don't. The ones who do have very special and specific missions for which wings are useful. The cherubim and seraphim are the two 'regiments' of God's angels which possess wings."
The Being considered Sharon once more, and then asked again, "What are you doing here?"
Sharon looked around, still puzzled by the lack of scenery, "Where is here?"
The Being regarded her carefully, "What do you remember?"
Sharon bowed her head, "I remember being in my office with Louie Provenza doing an interrogation of a murder suspect."
"Then what?"
Sharon shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, "I don't..."
The Being moved a few steps closer to Sharon and handed a phone to her.
"This is my phone!" exclaimed Sharon. "How did you get it?"
The phone lit up when Sharon touched the screen. Once again, Sharon found herself transfixed staring at the images flashing upon it. She found herself smiling when Andy's face appeared. She gasped when she saw some of the criminals she'd put away. It was a blur of images, so many images, until it stopped and replayed the scene of her fatal heart attack. It showed her Julio gracefully and gently scooping her up and placing her on the floor for CPR. It showed Rusty being dragged out of the office screaming on his phone while hers was chiming away on the desk. It showed the paramedics relieving Julio, intubating her and the ride to the hospital. It showed the team of ER personnel frantically trying to resuscitate her. It was vividly apparent she had died. The screen went dark as the doctors began to shut down machines.
"So, this is Purgatory?" Sharon looked up after the phone went dark again.
The Being took the phone back, "Not exactly."
"So, I'm dead?" was her reply.
"Maybe, or maybe not," the Being began. "You have worshiped God in the Person of Jesus your whole life long. He is not dead. He is very much alive."
Sharon nodded, for it was true.
"Then tell me what is death?" the Being asked in a gentle tone, supplanting the more demanding one used previously.
Sharon just started at the angel before replying, "When you put it that way, in that context, I guess I don't know."
The more demanding tone returned, "No. You don't. I remind you of what the Master Jesus told his followers about the Father being a God of the living and not of the dead."
The Being let that sink in for a good long while.
Then the Being demanded once more, "What are you doing here?"
Sharon was at a loss for words.
The Being said it again, a tad bit softer, but still demanding, "What are you doing here?"
Sharon shrugged.
The Being continued, "Now was not your time."
"But I thought it was," Sharon shot back.
"What made you think so?" the Being asked.
"My heart," Sharon offered.
"What about it?" the Being fired back without a moment of hesitation.
"Cardiomyopathy," was all she could say before the Being upbraided her.
"So what?" the Being snapped at her. "So you thought you'd play God?"
Sharon took offense, "But that was never my intention! There was a young mother who needed it more."
The Being laughed heartily, "You two were not even close to being viable tissue matches, by your medical standards today or anytime in the near future. So, what are you doing here?"
Sharon stood there silently, trying to figure it out.
After a long while the Being repeated the demand, "What are you doing here?"
"I don't know," she said in exasperation, her hands raised by her sides then came down quickly.
"Well, that's a start," the Being replied.
More silence.
"What did God want?" Sharon finally asked.
"Correction. What does He want? Not 'did.' He wants you to live," the Being challenged her.
"How? My heart was so diseased," Sharon equivocated again. "there was nothing they could do. It was pointless. Futile!"
"You are making excuses," the Being leaned in as the words came out. "What did your beloved Andy tell you about excuses?"
"An addict does not need a reason, all he needs is an excuse to drink," she replied softly.
"So, what is your addiction?" the Being demanded to know.
Sharon was again at a loss for words.
Then she offered, "I don't have any addictions. I don't have to have a drink. I don't use drugs. I'm unaddicted," Sharon proclaimed confidently.
The Being shook its head and a wry smile began to spread across its face, sarcasm dropped as it spoke, "Oh no, not Sharon Raydor. She is impervious to addictions...other than having to have it her way all the time."
That was a verbal slap across her face. Instinctively, she held her hands to her cheeks. Sharon shook her head, "No, I don't."
The Being handed Sharon back her phone. The device began playing. She saw herself in Pope's office defiantly telling everyone that she had to go first! Then the device replayed times between Andy and her when she knew she had felt the need to win the argument. She was convinced stress of moving in was the cause of his heart attack and told him so. Several more scenes of Sharon playing "Sharon Knows Best" with Andy and with Rusty. Finally, the image of the book she'd been given earlier, Love Your Life as It Is Now." The device went dark again.
The Being took the phone back from her.
"Did you read it?" the Being asked kindly.
"No," she shook her head. "I didn't."
"Why not?"
"Oh, I didn't think it was for me. The guy, Bill Landon, who wrote it was a terrible person. He raped all those women..." she began.
"So, a sinner cannot teach you a thing, only the saints?" the Being challenged.
Sharon was made silent again as she needed to think about that. Her head bowed down as she tried to pull it together.
"How long do I have?" Sharon asked.
"That is not for me to decide," the Being responded. "Can you learn anything from the sinners in your life?"
She rolled her eyes, "Well I learned a lot of how not to do it from my ex," Sharon said with a snicker.
"Useful," replied the Being. "What positive things can you learn from the broken?"
Sharon tilted her head, "Broken?"
"Broken," stated the Being flatly. "Sinners are broken. You are broken. If you weren't, you would not be here."
"I know I'm a sinner," Sharon looked into the Being's eye. "I went to confession, received the Sacraments, all before I died."
"Yes. You did. I was there and watched you," the Being noted. "You had already given in to death's call."
Sharon did not like the sound of what the Being had just told her, "It wasn't like that at all!"
"Yes, it was," said the Being who followed the statement with the question, "What are you addicted to?"
"Back to that are we!" Sharon was getting angry again.
"Yes, we are. Lessons sometimes have to be repeated for learning to happen," gently responded the Being.
"Well, why don't you tell me what you think I'm addicted to!" Sharon spat back.
"It does not work that way," the Being noted. "Until you come to terms with your addiction, you're going to be 'stuck' in it."
Sharon fell into silence once more.
She took a deep breath and began again, "So, you are telling me that I'm stuck here with you until I pass your little test?"
"It's not a test. You passed and past the 'test' a while ago," replied the Being.
"Can you give me a least a clue? I am a detective, after all. I follow clues!" Sharon pushed back.
The Being returned the phone to her one more time. This time it displayed her office and how it looked on most days at the end of the day. It showed her the condo where she lived and loved. It showed her the car she drove into work. Everything was neat, tidy, orderly, and clean. Nothing was out of place, not even in the old gold Volvo before she had given it to Rusty to use.
Sharon shook her head and shoulders, "Nothing is out of place. I don't get it? It all looks like it should."
"By whose standard?" the Being inquired as the phone lit up to show her Rusty's room, the gold Volvo now, Emily's childhood room, Ricky's present home, the bullpen area in the middle of a case with pizza boxes and Chinese takeout scattered about. The device again went dark. The Being collected it once more.
Sharon tried to process it quickly as if her life depended upon a good and right answer.
"I'm a neat freak," she finally let it out.
"What causes people to be neat freaks?" the Being led on.
"Need for control," Sharon replied slowly.
The Being remained quiet and still.
"I'm addicted to control," Sharon finally spoke.
The Being nodded, "Even control over life and death." It paused, then added, "Is that your job?"
"No," Sharon said quietly. "That's God's job. My job is to put criminals behind bars and stop their criminal activity."
"What are you doing here, Sharon?" the Being repeated again.
Sharon looked at her hands, picked at her nails, then looked up at the Being, "I'm here because I wanted to control when and how I would die rather than leaving it to God. I could not stand to be sidelined at work. I could not stand it for Andy to take the lead in our marriage. I hated it when the doctor said I'd have to give up what I do for a living and sit in a ward with a bunch of sick people."
"And?" the Being encouraged.
"And I needed to be in charge. I've been in charge for so long... I hated it when Jack would leave, go to Vegas, sleep with other women, bring back debt and other stuff that never ever stayed in Vegas. I felt so out of control when I was married to him!"
"Yes, it's easy to see how Jack's instability would break you at your core," the Being spoke barely above a whisper.
"Jack!" Sharon spat his name, "Jack was all about Jack. He never cared about me or our children."
It began to tumble out. The anger flared and subsided. The hurt boiled up and calmed.
"I did not really want to be IA. Everyone hates IA. I never wanted to be hated by my fellow officers. I hated having to grow a thick skin and being so cold-hearted. They called me names I would never have chosen for myself - wicked witch, Darth Raydor, and all the rest. But IA was the quickest way to advance. The kids needed clothes and tuition, and a patrolman's salary would not sustain it all," Sharon was on a roll as she reexamined her life to date. "I was miserable, but I knew what the rules were. Rules are good. Somebody had to keep the rules."
"Did they?" the Being gently prodded.
"Well, of course," Sharon continued. "Without rules, life is anarchy and unstable!"
"Yes, rules are good things, at times." The Being continued, "But rules are not God."
Sharon stopped a moment.
"No, I guess they aren't."
"When God set up rules, you called them the laws of physics," smiled the Being. "When God breaks one of the rules, you call it a miracle."
Sharon blinked a moment, "Miracle?"
"Miracle."
"How can I have a miracle, now?" Sharon's eyes teared up a bit. "I'm dead."
"Are you?"
"I'm here, am I not?"
"What are you doing here?" the Being came back to the same question that had begun the discussion.
"Am I learning how to live with what I have," Sharon continued, "instead of what I don't have or what I demand?"
The Being softened its smile, "I believe you are beginning to learn that lesson, yes."
"Then I have sinned by not enjoying the life that God had given me?" Sharon needed to know.
"Yes, you could say it that way," the Being replied kindly.
"Can I be forgiven and restored?" asked Sharon.
"God is the God of the living and not of the dead," the Being repeated. "He is your God, but more importantly, you belong to Him."
"Can He still use me, broken and all?" Sharon needed to know.
"He can and would be delighted to," the Being nodded.
"I can't be a cop anymore though," Sharon pondered. "What will I do?"
"Now there is a truly existential question that all people eventually have to ask and answer," the Being said.
More silence.
"What will I do?" Sharon asked again, more insistently this time.
"Are you a human being or a human doing?" was the question the Being asked.
Sharon puzzled with that for a moment, "I've worked as long as I can remember. I worked my way through school. I worked Jack's way through law school. Work is what I know."
"Is it all you know?" was the quick response.
"I know how to raise kids, work, and go to school," she responded.
"Sounds like you view yourself as a human doing," offered the Being. "However, your God and mine created you as a human being."
"Human being. Human doing," Sharon mulled. "What's the difference? 'To be' means we have 'to do' or we starve to death!"
"Consider with whom you live. Consider where you live. Tell me that is a real and genuine problem for you at this very moment in time," replied the Being a bit harshly.
"I have always been a human doing, then. Happy now?" Sharon shot back folding her arms across her chest.
"I am loved by the Father. How could I not be filled with His joy?" the Being responded gently.
"What's so wrong with being a human doing?" Sharon asked.
"What did it get you?" the Being asked. "Nice things? A steady paycheck? A pleasant place to live?"
"Sure. It did." Sharon said almost defiantly.
"And the human being part. What did it get you?" the Being pushed back.
Sharon blinked a moment, then spoke, "My Andy. The kids. The team."
The Being nodded, "Now which is more important? The power and control you believed you needed to have over all things and the people in your life? Or the people who love you and are in your life because they want to be there?"
"The people," Sharon said sadly. "But they are gone now. I'm gone, I mean."
"You blew it! Is that the best you can muster?" the Being demanded to know.
Sharon shook her head and shoulders, "I guess so."
"What are you doing here?" the Being reiterated.
"I'm here, wherever here is or whatever here is, because I needed to control my life," she declared. "I'm a human doing."
"Would you like to be a human being?" the Being offered. "Human beings are made in the Image of God, you know. Are you willing to love your life just the way it is now?"
"I don't know," Sharon cried into her hands.
The Being reached out and touched her for the first time since she'd arrived. The Being was a few inches taller than Sharon, so it leaned in and lifted her face. The Being then gently wiped away her tears and smiled.
"What did the man ask Jesus when the disciples failed to cast out the demon from his son?" asked the Being, still cradling her chin.
"Help my unbelief," Sharon recited. "Father Stan preached on that passage not long ago."
"It was a Wednesday night service. You went while Andy went to a meeting," the Being supplied.
She nodded.
"Do you know why Father Stan preached on that?" the Being asked.
Sharon shook her head, "No clue."
"Your Ever-faithful Father knew you were coming to this point. He wanted you to hear that message, to prepare you for this moment," responded the Being.
Sharon began to cry again, "I am loved and did not really have a clue."
The Being again reached out to wipe away the tears which were flowing profusely by now. The Being placed the captured tears into a vial and tucked the vial into its pocket. Sharon watched the Being gathering her tears with amazement. Her tears began to cease as the weight on her chest lifted without warning. She felt free.
"Help my unbelief!" she begged. "I want to be a human being, not a human doing. I want to live in the Image of God. I want to be loved. This time without reservation."
"And so you shall," replied the Being.
"What are you doing here?" was the refrain which the Being again called.
"I'm here to be given a second chance," Sharon claimed.
"Indeed you are," nodded the Being. "You will not be alone. You have never been alone, even at your darkest times. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit, God Eternal has always been with you, loving you, wanting you to succeed as a beautiful human being, made in His Image."
Sharon began to laugh, "And all it took to convince me was dying."
The Being began to laugh with her. Quickly, Sharon took comfort in the arms of the Being as they laughed and laughed.
"It's gone, you know," She said from the safety of its bosom. "The fear. It's gone. The need to be in tight control. It's gone. I'm really free."
The Being pulled back, "Yes, you are free. Shall I return you?"
"Please," Sharon requested.
"Accept help from others when you go back. Remember that pain, no matter how intense, is but temporary. The Father's love for you is everlasting," the Being said.
"Guardian Angel, where is here?" Sharon asked.
"You see the light off in the distance?"
"You came from there," she replied.
"And I'm going back there. Beyond the light is Heaven where the fullness of the Father dwells. I serve Him. He sent me to you just now, to help you learn to live fully," the Being told her, "to accept the joy that Jesus has given you."
"How do I do that?" Sharon shook her head. "I have to start all over."
"And you say that like it's a bad thing," chuckled the Being. "Little One, one of life's most important lessons is learning how to reinvent yourself by overcoming challenges that are found in life. Some of those challenges come from the Father to foster growth. Others come from the fact that the world is broken by sin and misused free will."
The Being began to turn, "Oh, the woman on whom you misplaced your mercy is a perfect tissue match with the man you know as Philip Stroh."
Sharon's hands went to her mouth, "Oh no! He's really back?"
"He is coming for you, your team, and your son," said the Being.
"What will I do? I'm going back to be in the transplant ward!" exclaimed Sharon.
"You will let go. You will be a human being, not a human doing," responded the Being. "Others can and will pick up the load that you have carried. What did Paul say?"
"Bear one another's burdens," Sharon quoted.
"Yes, he did," the Being remarked. "At this moment, it's your turn to have your burdens borne by another. Accept that gift. It's God's grace. It is not for you to bring Stroh to justice and before the Judgment Seat. That is for another to do."
"You are asking for the impossible!" she exploded.
The Being smiled, "Your team is more than competent. You trained them!"
Sharon blushed, "Yes, I did."
"Now turn around and start walking back to where you came from," the Being ordered.
Sharon turned and began walking. She paused and glanced over her shoulder to get a last glimpse of the Guardian Angel one last time. However, the Being was gone. The light that was far off was gone. She was alone in the grey. Closing her eyes, drawing in a deep breath, she began walking again.
The machines fired up around the ER doctors and Sharon's cardiologist, Dr. Torres. With a shriek, Sharon drew in a deep breath and clutched her chest which felt as if it were both on fire and as if several elephants had just gotten up from there.
The people in the room wheeled around to see what was happening. The cardiologist was pulled away from the paperwork that went with a death certificate to see the patient was alive, and not dead at all. The nurse yanked back the sheet from Sharon's face and stared into mossy green eyes.
The monitor did not read perfect sinus rhythm. It sketched out a heartbeat of a poorly functioning heart.
"Leave the tube in," yelled the doctor. "OR - stat!"
Running next to the gurney, he leaned over his patient, "We are putting in the Left Ventricular Assist Device while I've got you here. You died but came back. We want to keep it that way!"
Sharon nodded and closed her eyes. The pain was tremendous. Sweat broke across her face and upper body. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She took ragged breaths, but they were her breaths. Pain is temporary, she remembered her Guardian Angel telling her.
Nevertheless, sedation was a relief and release. Her body did not know if it wanted to die or to live, for it was so wracked with pain and brokenness. Her sternum was separated from its ribs with a few of those ribs being simply broken during the CPR process. Her body was fighting itself as the haze of anesthesia overwhelmed her consciousness.
Days later, Sharon gradually awakened and was weaned off the vent. She was more than a little happy to be free of the vent and tube. Most of all, she was overwhelmed with the feeling of love from within and without. She remembered much of her encounter with her Guardian Angel when she was neither dead nor fully alive. Her unconscious mind was aware of who came and went in the hospital room. She loved it when Rusty came and read to her. She could not feel Andy's touch, but she could hear him kiss her hands and face when he came and went. He'd speak softly about what the weather was doing, what they had for supper last night, how Rusty was learning new dishes to sustain them, how the various sports teams she followed were doing, and staying far away from work talk. She could hear Emily crying her eyes out and Ricky telling his sister it would be alright.
It had been a full week since her fatal heart attack and experience with death when Sharon's eyes fluttered open. Since glycerin was instilled, her vision was blurry; furthermore, her glasses were in some unknown place. Her throat felt as if it were ablaze from the intubation. She wondered if it had been a tube or a cactus that was shoved down her trachea. Her arms felt very heavy as did her legs.
"Honey!" exclaimed Andy. "You're awake! You stayed with me!"
Andy was exuberant!
"Sorry," she croaked out.
"For what?" Andy leaned in and kissed her forehead before sitting back down with her hand still clasped in his.
"For leaving you," she whispered.
"But you're here," he had a quizzical look on his face.
"Wasn't always," she replied as she squeezed his hand. "Was selfish. Was depressed. Was out of control."
"Sweetheart," Andy began, "but you are here now. They told us how you were dead then spontaneously came back."
Sharon nodded, "Stroh...coming...for me...for you...for Rusty...for the team."
Andy nodded, "We knew that was a reality. You will always have one of us with you 24/7. The team has photos of Stroh and will be more than happy to take him down if he so much as darkens your door."
"He's a donor match to that woman I told you about, you know, the one with the kids on the transplant ward," she continued.
"Okay, so Provenza or Julio will shoot him in the head," Andy laughed it off.
"No seriously," Sharon's eyes were clearing. "Save his heart for her. Please."
"Shhh," Andy advised. "You need to rest. Stop worrying about other things."
Sharon nodded, "I'm addicted to control. Help me."
Andy held her hand closer and kissed it repeatedly, "I know. I will. Admitting you are powerless is the first step. We will take this step-by-step...together."
With that, Sharon's eyes fluttered shut and with a soft whisper, "I love you, Andy Flynn."
Andy responded, "And I love you, Sharon Raydor, I mean Flynn."
Thank you all for the kind comments and feedback. I've made some small changes here and there as a result.
And a nod of thanks to C. S. Lewis's The Great Divorce. Those who have read this little gem will have a vague awareness of similarities in this chapter to the platform before the bus ride away.