She heard the constant hum of the machines and realized she had fallen asleep while sitting in the chair. She opened her eyes, daring herself to keep them open and looked over at the sleeping form before her. Andy. The machines indicated he was still alive, still breathing, but she felt better seeing the rise and fall of his chest herself. She sunk back into the chair after she confirmed he was still okay, silently scolding herself for nodding off, even if for just a few moments.
She picked up the crumpled tissue in her lap, dabbing her eyes with it. It wasn't the first tissue, and she was certain it wouldn't be the last. Her best friend in the world was lying in a hospital bed, fighting to stay alive, and she was struggling. She was struggling because really, who was she kidding? Best friend? Was that all he was to her? After years and years of everything, the tension, the bickering, the actual verbal fighting, the smiles, the looks, the dinners, the family events, the hours and hours alone together, Rusty, the co-parenting, the work issues-best friends, was that really all they were?
Sharon dabbed her eyes again, trying to count how many tissues she had used so far. She lost count very quickly and glanced back at the man she'd grown so fond of over the last few years. She felt like she could almost see the pain etched in his face, the pain from years of not feeling good enough, not feeling like a real father, not feeling like he was anything other than a washed-up alcoholic, not feeling like he'd made anything of his life. She looked at his worn hands, hands that had escorted suspects to prison, hands that had held the power of a gun and fired it, hands that had run through his hair in anguish many times, hands that he'd raised over his head in frustration, hands that had held hers on occasion, but as Sharon sat and thought, she realized those hands had not held her enough.
"Andy?" she tried speaking to him, as she pulled her chair closer. She took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over his hand. "Andy, we need you to wake up." Still nothing. His hand was cool to the touch, and she didn't like that. On the rare occasions, he had held her hand, it had been warm and comfortable. Now, it felt cold, distant, and not the Andy she knew and treasured.
"Andy, this is silly," she shook her head, trying to shake the tears away. "Why did you have to be such an idiot? That 'dust up with the car' as you tried to call it. Andy, that car, the blood clot, this can't be the end. I need you to come back to me. I have so much to say," she said, finally reaching for her tissue again.
Sharon was silent for another moment, before she tried another tactic, "Andy, if you wake up now, I'll let you kiss me. I'll even be your girlfriend because if there's one thing I've learned from all this, it's that we are too good of friends. Andy, I think I fell in love with you long ago, and we've been kidding ourselves the last few years."
Still, Andy remained unconscious, and Sharon slumped back in her chair, "Andy, we are supposed to have more time together. I have taken too long to figure out my feelings; I've put you off way too long, and yes, I know you've never asked, but I could always tell you wanted more. I've figured out my feelings now, which is ridiculous that it should come to this, and you can't leave me at this point. Andy, I need you, and you know I don't need anyone. Andy, please don't leave me," she choked out in tears before she reached for the torn tissue once again.
She was choked up and looked away from him, as if he was really able to look at her and see the mess she had become. She hadn't showered in at least a day, or was it longer? Her hair was a frizzy, mangled mess at this point. It felt gross to her, but she had no plan to tame it anytime soon. She hadn't brushed her teeth in who knows how long. She had not eaten in, well, she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. Any trace of makeup was a few days' old, and her clothes, she was ready to burn them, even if she had on a pair of her favorite jeans and a very comfortable sweater. Her clothes reminded her now of sadness, of despair, and of an empty, alone feeling. Yes, she wanted to burn her clothes and never have to see them or what they represented again. She focused her eyes, noting the sun was going down again. How many times had she watched it now?
This mess had all started after the dust up. He'd suffered a few broken ribs, a concussion, and a lot of secondary issues. Andy had fallen, developing the blood clot, but thankfully, Patrice had been there with him. His dust up with the car had been serious; he tried to downplay it, but Sharon knew better. She saw his pain, and she offered to help, but he wouldn't have it. After Sharon gave Provenza a look, he sprang into action, opening his home to Andy. Patrice would help, he told Sharon, and thank goodness Patrice had. Andy had reported his blood clot issue to Sharon as his superior officer, but once again, she could tell he was downplaying it. The closeness she thought they had, she could tell he was withdrawn, probably trying to protect her, that or trying to emotionally detach from her. Now, here they were; Andy had fallen, knocked himself out, and required immediate surgery; the clot was bad, extremely serious. He'd had the surgery, and the doctors weren't sure if he had any permanent damage. They were optimistic he would wake up, but he'd hit his head hard, and they were monitoring him for any internal bleeding or additional clots. A brain bleed would be devastating, and further clots could kill him.
"Captain," she heard and didn't even have the energy to turn around. "Captain," she heard again, this time a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, even though that required more effort than she wanted.
"Hmm," was all she could get out as she met the eyes of Provenza. He had a solemn look on his face, noting her disastrous appearance.
"Any change?" he asked, looking at her. He silently told himself he needed to get her out of here to rejoin the land of the living because she was obviously not doing well.
"No," she said, finding her voice was now raspy. "No change," she nodded, turning enough to look back over at Andy. He was here, in the ICU, and normally, it was family only. Well, it had taken a little discussion with the charge nurse to define family, but now, she and Provenza were taking turns. The discussion came after finding out that Nicole was out of country on business, and Andy's son was away as well. Andy Flynn had family, just in the way of his two closest friends.
"Sharon," Provenza said, using her first name for effect. It worked; she looked up at him, "Go home, shower, change, eat, and get some rest. He'll want to lose consciousness again if he sees you looking like you do," he made a face trying to lighten the mood.
"I can't," she sighed. "I need to be here when he wakes up."
"I'll be here," Provenza offered.
She shook her head, "No, it's not the same. I need to be here. I need to see him, and I need to talk to him."
Provenza frowned, "Once he wakes, you'll have plenty of time to, whatever," he threw up his hands. "What's so important it has to come out the moment he's awake? You two have become good friends; he knows that."
Sharon closed her eyes, and with a voice that was choking back the tears, "I need to tell him I love him. I do," she shrugged. "I've wasted all this time pretending he's just a friend, but he's not. He's never pushed me, never said anything, most likely afraid he'd push me away, but I've been the idiot, and I need to tell him. I need him to wake up because I can't live with myself if he dies without knowing that."
Provenza pulled up a chair as he sighed. He knew it; he saw it, and he always wondered why the two seemed to torture each other. He was happy to help out Andy with his injuries, but all along, he kept telling Patrice that Sharon really should be the one helping him. He figured she was scared to go there-to think about Andy in her personal space, living in the condo while he recovered. He always thought the two had discussed things and had chosen not to pursue a relationship. Andy had been tight lipped about it lately, and he'd learned not to prod. It now appeared Andy had just decided to keep things to himself, to let Sharon go, thinking she was out of his reach. All along, the two were really just like ships in the night-passing each other by without really addressing what the other was thinking. He sighed and took a deep breath, "Well, I suggest you get yourself cleaned up quickly then. This has gone on long enough, and I don't mean Flynn here in the hospital. Your little confession needs to happen when you look halfway human, and you don't now. So, go, and get yourself back here. He's going to wake up because otherwise I lose my best friend and have to deal with my ever so annoying boss while she wallows in her love loss misery. Go. I'll sit with him. It sounds like you have a lot to tell him."