Happy birthday Kadi219!
This one is for you! You asked for feels, and those you should have!
Thanks to Robin, for amazing and very quick beta work. I know I'm handful :P
All mistakes are mine but not the characters. With those I only play.
Dear Kate04us you went with me to dungeons to drag out my hiding muse. You were there with a whip in one hand and the clinex in the other. Thank you!
The cover image is made by Cassidy Blue my every day hero! Thank you lovely!
And Lyannchan your words and encouragement are everything!
This story was inspired by Nina Simone's song "Wild Is The Wind". You can find the lyrics written among the lines.
Enjoy!
The wind was blowing. The sound of ruffled leaves echoed in the crispy air, some were floating down and dancing, not quite touching the ground. They were passing before her face while she was staring at yet another dead body; too old to be a child, too young to be a man.
She should have moved, people were running around, gathering information, taking orders and moving so fast. Instead she was frozen in time and space, the whispering sound and the barley touch of nature got somehow deep inside her being. She would gladly close her eyes and let the wild wind blow through her. Taking away part of her harsh reality.
She scanned slowly the long athletic body that lay in front of her covered in blood and dirt. Adam. She remembered Lt. Provenza's telling her the boy's name. His eyes were still open, his lips parted. This dark park heard his last gasp for air and when he exhaled his soul escaped the prison of his battered body and would travel far to the light with first morning's church bells.
Her mind went straight to her two boys. And as always for just one second there was an ache in her chest, a ripping pain that filled her heart and stole her breath. It's the most unsettling part about going to a crime scene. She always longed for these moments of panic to end. It was getting easier for sure now. She tried not to be so affected, she tried to control it. Deep down she knew it would never really stop. The moment it did, would be the moment she'd retire.
That fear left her as fast as she reminded herself that her boys were fine. One, safe on the other end of the state, the other, safe and soundly sleeping in his bed. She'd left him a note. Rusty knew what to do when she was called away in the middle of the night to a crime scene. They were safe.
The pain eased, her breathing smoothed, Kendal was updating them.
"Six hours", she heard him say.
There were more voices. It seemed everyone was talking all at once. She was only half focused. Her mind was registering the conversations, she knew that, she even gave some instructions, but she was distracted by the wind.
The last time the wind was blowing with such wildness was the night when she and Andy went to the Opera five weeks ago. It was supposed to be a gift as another thank you from his part. Except it was much more than that.
It was always more than one thing between them.
Before the Opera there was the dinner and before that there was his invitation and his smile, his anticipating gaze, her hums with a kind touch and the excitement that settled between them.
Sharon knew where they were going that night, but he omitted on purpose, the title of the spectacle. It had to be a surprise, he claimed. Last time they went to the theater it was for the Nutcracker. It was a special night. For both of them. That was when something changed, something shifted for them. They were creating a softness and ease. It felt dangerous, but it also felt right.
And exactly one year after, on the opera night, the wind was blowing so much that her locks became like a curtain across her face. She could barely see. The air was warm though, humid even.
Andy helped her get out of the car and she felt the first gust, the one that took the loosely wrapped scarf she had around her. He caught it before it hit the ground, and she gave him a grateful smile. Moving closer he shifted the hair from her face, placing it behind her shoulder. In doing so, he touched the exposed, tender skin on her neck and the warm touch of his fingers mixed with the wind made her eyes close as a long, light shiver stroked down her spine. It was hot, it was cold.
He stood still and so near her, lightly caressing her neck, he was waiting to meet her gaze. When his strong fingers were replaced by the softness of the silk Sharon watched him, as he tried to make a knot in her scarf.
"There," his voice so low rumbled in her ears, his breath stronger than the wind.
"Thank you," she managed to whisper, while her hair started to waltz again.
She tried to walk along side of him, but the relentless wind pushed her farther and farther toward his body, every gust made it harder to resist until eventually she nearly collided with his side. She grasped his arm with both hands and clung to him so tightly that he could feel her nails dig deep.
Andy welcomed her, slowing the pace since her long black dress was tangling between her steps. Sharon buried her face in his shoulder, her cheek brushed him while her locks tickled his neck and jaw. His chin nudged her lightly and he kissed the top of her head. The touch was light, like a ghost, and for a moment she wondered if it was even real. Then another strong blow distracted her, sending his scent to her nose, and it was like summer, and sea and salt and rain.
She moaned while pressing even harder in to him. He tightened his arm to his body, to provide her more shed, and along with it, more heat.
She was burning.
Nature was playing some game with them and the rules were unclear.
Again his voice got her attention, "We are almost there". She titled her head up. Their eyes locked and now, without hesitation, his soft lips touched her forehead and then moved to her temple. It was novel and yet... so natural. She gave him a weak smile and let her face rest against him once again.
The idea was to walk to the theater after dinner. The weather seemed nice, so they parked a block away near the coffee shop they both liked. But along the ride something had changed. A wind had come from nowhere and became madness, wind wildness.
The lobby was full of tousled women and hardly breathing men. They blended in perfectly among the others. Somehow it soothed her, being there on his arm. Andy straightened his posture, but she wasn't ready to let go of him. There was no hurry, if she needed him close, he would stay right there.
"Sharon," he breathed out and his thumb swept one last stand of her hair from her face placing it behind her ear. His finger lingered on her. She hummed in agreement, knowing they couldn't stay this way forever. The urge was strong, regardless. His lips touched her one more time as he helped her with the scarf.
After drinks it was Andy's turn to cling to her body like a leaf clings to the tree.
His hand was on the small of her back and held her in place, close. When he let it slide to her waist and his fingers grazed her side, Sharon happily went with the slight pressure and leaned into his embrace.
The silence between them and the touch of their bodies felt like a perfect fit.
Sitting in the dark and immersed in the performance on stage, any time she got excited her hand would squeeze his leg. Starting at his knee, her hand travelled and kneaded his thigh. He wasn't passive. Whenever her hand clasped him, his lips brushed her skin. Her temple, her cheek, her jaw, her chin, her neck. The moment her hand brushed dangerously near his groin his tongue simultaneously made a circular sweep right behind her ear. She tightened her grip on him, and he exhaled, his breath hitched, teasing them both even more.
The game had changed. And yet they kept playing.
The return to the car was no easier than the departure had been. The wind was still restless and turbulent. His arms were enveloping her, and she'd sought his shelter. Now there was little barrier left between them, hesitation was replaced by anticipation and reason by desire.
When he returned her to her door there was a heat, a need, a willingness and a dream.
Andy watched her open the door and turn around and smile. He moved closer, touching her figure and bending his head, as Sharon rose on the balls of her feet and closed the minimal gap so their lips could meet.
He kissed her, and with her kiss his life began.
Her lips parted slightly and they vibrated together into the infinite tenderness and simplicity of this motion. His tongue caressed the plumpness of her bottom lip and she pressed herself flush against him. He kept her there, almost under his skin. Firm and sealed in his arms. Her hand wrapped around his neck, passing her fingers through short locks at the nape of his head. Their tongues twined together, spring exploded around them, it was lingering, delirious and deep. Like the essence of the wind. He wanted more; he wanted all of her like wet, warm spring.
The darkness of her bedroom welcomed them with its silence. They gave more than one caress in need to satisfy this hungriness.
The dropping clothes generated their own breeze. The long dress fell down along her, creating a soft flutter over her heated flesh. She stood boldly in black lace in front of him as her fingers undressed him, his three piece suit would join her gown on the floor soon enough.
Touch for touch, kiss for kiss.
Bare and open they both were equals in this game without rules. They were free, and became one creature of the wind. And wild was the wind, so wild was the wind. Fueling their sweaty bodies. Every thrust, every sound, moan, groan, hum, sigh, whimper was carried by this burst. They were consuming every breath and every flaming instant.
Spinning, shaking in a tornado of pleasure and ecstasy. And when the time came they were soaring, drifting on the wind, embraced and together immersed in the burning satisfaction.
It was life itself.
She laid her head on his chest, listening to his pounding heart. It was strong and soothing like his hands and his breathing. He played with her hair and drew silly patterns on her skin. After a while, his motions slowed down and his limbs grew heavier, and sleep claimed him.
Sharon waited for Morpheus to abduct her too from the reality of the day and give her a deserved rest. Instead, the more she waited, the more she thought, and with every thought there was something heavy dawning on her. She watched Andy sleep underneath her, peaceful and content while her chest ached and her hands trembled. She felt dizzy.
She rose from the bed, grabbed her robe and stepped onto the balcony. The wind was ruthless. Her head was spinning. The growing panic was crushing her like a vice grip. It took her heart and her lungs. It left no space for her to be.
It was scary, it was wrong. It hurt. Sharon wasn't ready for any of this. It was too soon, too easy, too good, too much, too complicated. It felt right, but she couldn't let him in. Not just like that. He would sneak inside her with his care, he would open her, expose her more. She felt too old for this kind of ache. What if she couldn't give him anything back? So much time had passed since she actually loved a man. And the last time she'd allowed someone in - so deep - she was fearless, young and sure. Her confidence faded when the pain started. Over the years, she had frequently been accused of being cold-hearted, and they weren't entirely wrong. She had learned to close off emotionally, in order to protect herself. It had been done out of necessity in the beginning but then it had become second nature. Now Sharon wasn't sure if she would be able to fully open up to another person again. He already looked at her with those eyes filled with emotions and devotion. He wasn't demanding. He would give her as much time as she asked for. It wasn't right to accept it. Any of it. The pain and the pleasure. She just couldn't.
It hurt even more.
The wind. She would blame everything on the wind.
It had carried her along all evening, blowing them both towards each other and the jumble of feelings - almost uncontrollable lust, a profound need for closeness and comfort, an insatiable curiosity and the one thing she definitely wasn't ready for - a frighteningly deep love.
Love was always tricky for her. It was supposed to be happiness and life, instead it was often hurt, anger and heartache. "You think you know someone and suddenly you don't", she recalled having said, and it wasn't untrue. Maybe it was better not to find out how tricky it could be. Before it changed, before it hurt.
His steps were sure; she sensed his presence before he stepped on the balcony. Her name escaped his lips with a sigh. She tensed. He saw her becoming rigid, her neck was taut, she was bracing the railing with one hand, the other was shaking. She avoided looking at him.
"Sharon," he called her again, insisting.
She should explain, her lips parted she tried to make some noise, anything, but it died on the back her throat.
She was so still and he thought so far away from him.
His eyes were pleading, he would fight. For her, for them.
"I hope this wind will blow through your heart." It was up to her, he knew, but he didn't want to give up.
And there it was again. This panic that never ended. She looked away from him when warm tears started to blur her vision. He watched her profile, her locks moving on the gale. He gripped the railing so tightly his knuckles went white. He stood and waited for her response with his dreams in the palm of his hand.
"I can't." The sound of her words, almost too silent for the wind but loud as thunder for his ears.
"I don't understand. I thought..." He had to pause, anxiety and fear rising inside him "What's wrong?"
Words were failing her, her body was failing her, she couldn't explain it. Not to him. "It's me Andy. Just me."
"Is there anything..." Finding words now was almost impossible. "I'm here Sharon."
Her lips trembled and a barely audible "Andy. I am... sorry," cut through him like sharp knife cuts through tender flesh.
He swallowed hard, his eyes, dark and lost, diverted from her, searching in the void for some anchor but finding only depth in a vortex of sadness.
The need to touch her for one last time was overcoming. To feel her warmth before this wind would blow in and cool them both for a long time, if not for forever.
His hand moved along the balustrade to graze hers. She moved her fingers apart and they connected briefly. There were tears falling down her cheeks, and her breaths hitched. He ached for her too. When he lifted his hand to wipe the tears away she shook her head and turned away from him.
That was it. The blade was twisted.
"Goodbye Sharon." his husky voice mixed with the wind.
She couldn't move, but she watched his disappearing in her hallway. He would get dressed and... leave. She asked for it.
Sharon was leaning against the frame of the balcony door, alone with her fears and choices.
Before leaving for good, Andy made another attempt to find some convincing words. When a soft sound escaped his mouth she cut him off.
"See you tomorrow, Lieutenant." Her dismissal was like the knife one again cutting deep inside him, this time leaving behind the sticky, thick strain of blood. It was necessary.
"Captain," he managed to answer and he left.
"He was stabbed." Tao's voice ripped her attention back to today's murder victim. "Approximately twenty four times." She nodded. It seemed like the number of stab wounds was the same as the number of years Adam had been on this Earth. It was such a painful way to go, the poor boy would have felt everything. Every time his skin had been torn by the knife the pain would've been excruciating until he must have wished for death to come sooner.
It was death itself.
She had a feeling this would be one of those hard cases, senseless with so much rage and pain and no time to dwell.
Sharon started to feel it again, the ache, low in her chest and it spread right through her belly. It swirled, tightening into a firm knot. Usually she would search for a pair of warm dark eyes. They would exchange glances, he would offer a comforting half smile, and somehow it would be enough to calm her and get through, at least, this part of the day.
Yet, everything had changed. These past five weeks had been a nightmare. The distance they had created between themselves was unbearable.
At first he was angry, livid at her and the world. His temper was a constant presence, like a shadow, always in danger of getting out of control. It could happen anytime. They had a few close calls, almost blowing up in front of everyone. They managed. Sharon understood.
Then he was just careless, deflecting and a bit neglectful. He threw himself in the line of action. Every time there was some kind of dangerous situation he was first with the gun drawn forward, he had to be. He would even argue, without care. It took her breath away, and something else, every time. He looked so brave and broken.
Andy only spoke to her when he couldn't avoid it.
The team seemed not to care that much, or comment out loud. They all were professionals and in their division, usually respect overcame the need to gossip. And now Andy was just... distant. Never at her side.
She missed him. She missed them.
This Sharon and Andy that shared the same thoughts and quick reactions at work, a cup of coffee in the middle of the day, late night dinner and those light, soft touches on their bodies, were no longer there.
She missed him badly.
When the panic after that wind-blown night faded she convinced herself that opening up to someone, to let her heart beat again, at her age and in their complicated work situation was simply too much, yes, it was irresponsible. She tried to believe that decision. Yet every time the phone rang late at night her belly fluttered and there was this small hope it would be him. It never was.
In fact, when the panic faded, what remained was loss –loss of a friend, but not only that. It was so real, this loneliness and emptiness rooted inside her. If she had accepted that he was already there, right there in her heart, she would never have let him go. If only she had realized. Sharon searched for his eyes again regardless. It was still her habit, the one she couldn't break, but they were not available to her anymore. She couldn't even spot him at the crime scene.
Sanchez informed her that they were almost done, and she could get back to her office. Taylor was calling her, already pressing for information.
The walk to her car wasn't easy, even in her long blue coat she could feel the cold of the wind.
"Wild is the wind, tonight."
And there he was, leaning casually against her car, his arms crossed in front of his chest. She froze, but heat passed through her.
"Indeed" she managed, clearing her throat. He watched her bury her hands deep in her pockets, recognizing the meaning of this gesture.
His gaze was riveted to the way the wind picked up strands of her hair and whirled them around her face, his fingers itching to stroke them back behind her ear. The sight of her overwhelmed him. The memory was back, the wind in his mind and in his dream.
At day, at night, it didn't matter when or where, he was still living it.
She was the dream. His only dream.
She titled her head so he could see her. Her eyes filled with unleashed tears, her lips trebled "I'm sorry, I was so wrong, I..." she pleaded.
Andy pushed away from the car and stood closer, right in her space. Shaking his head, he appeased her. He understood. They'd made a mess, it was too soon. But now it was time to clean it up. It was time for a true fight.
"We will figure it out, together." He was serious and determined.
Sharon let out a shattering long breath. She nodded. "Yes. Together."
And they let the wind blow.
Thank you!