A matter of perspective

by Isolith

Sharon Raydor was around before red tape and Andrew Flynn's well-acquainted with her. Stories from the good ol' days, late season one of the closer and onwards.

2. 2

/BORDERLINE/

Andrew Flynn yawned for the umpteenth time, two tall coffee cups and a brown bag of pastries balanced in his arms as he leaned back against a concrete column in the underground parking garage at headquarters. It was a quarter to six and he knew – having bribed the night security guard – that Sharon Raydor came in at an ungodly hour on Thursdays apparently – he would have to ask her what this was about some other time but not today; today was about trying to get her to acknowledge him. Why, he would gladly give his right arm for just one little acknowledging smile.

So he waited trying to balance his patience along with the goodies from her favorite bakery, ignoring the strange looks he received from other officers coming into work; he glared at some and smiled when they hurried past him with wary looks.

Andy heard her tell-tale high heels before he saw her come into view. He put on a wide, charming smile then and watched as she came closer; she was in a black pantsuit today and a frown that turned positively poisonous when she saw him. There was no amused arched eyebrow or little smile bestowed in his direction; she outright ignored him, her eyes quickly sweeping past his form, exclusively focused on the elevator.

He sighed – this was going to be a lot harder than he had previously thought.

"Good morning, Captain," he said his voice chipper as he put one of the coffee cups in her path, just in front of her, "This warm and absolutely wonderful coffee is just for you – special order and brought by yours truly."

She stopped short, eyes narrowed on the cup in his hand as if it was somehow infectious, "I've already had coffee." Her voice was undeniably chill.

Andy smiled nonetheless, ignoring her efforts to obviously annoy him, "Never can have too much coffee, now can you, huh. You know what they say; coffee is good for the soul – never can have too much of that, erm, soul-brightener, eh?"

"Yes, you can," she snipped, now giving him a glare. Coincidently he now stood in front of her, baring her path to the elevator and holding the coffee cup between them like a barrier; he was almost certain she wouldn't shoot him when they had witnesses on the security cameras in the parking garage.

"C'mon, Captain," he tried again, the smile on his face starting to feel strained, "you love coffee."

She arched an eyebrow derisively, "I love being able to go to work without you obstructing my path, lieutenant – now move out of my way."

Andy's smile wavered and he quickly stepped aside letting her pass. She strode forward, her heels even louder against the concrete ground than before and he was even sure her eyes glowed red for a short second. Andy followed her to the elevator like a harassed dog on a leash, caught between feeling contrite and angry – with every step he took however, he became more and more angry and less apologetic.

"Just take the goddamn coffee, Sharon," he grumbled at her back when he felt on the verge of exploding. She was being ridiculously difficult, not accepting his little gift of truce. "It's not as if I have poisoned it – even though I'm sure you drink poison for goddamn breakfast, what with this cheerful positive attitude you have going on."

Andy watched her push the elevator button with an angry push and as they waited in silence he couldn't avoid looking at her in profile; he narrowed his eyes and made peace with simply glaring at her. Maybe he could glare some sense into her.

"It's just stupid coffee," he sighed and he knew she would take the proffered coffee when he saw her lips pout then followed by a defeated sigh.

She still stared straight ahead but her arm shot out, palm out for the cup, "Alright, give me the stupid coffee. If that will help you shut up, I'll gladly take it."

Andy grinned and delivered the cup into her hands; he watched her take a little sip and he smiled wider when she tried to hide her surprise – it was spiced with just the hint of chocolate and cinnamon.

She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye and Andy wondered whether it was still hostile or if it was only in his imagination; she pursed her lips further, eyes glinting with something that could be malice.

"What do you want?" yes, there was still a note of hostility in her voice.

Andy shrugged, "Nothing – can't I be nice without you blaming me for something?"

"You're only nice when you want something," she pointed out, taking another sip of her coffee; quite unbeknownst to herself he figured because she looked positively annoyed when she swallowed the beverage as if she had forgotten she was mad at his offered coffee as well.

Andy furrowed his brow, "Yeah, I've always got ulterior motives, I'm a right bastard," he paused, inhaled and then, "Give me a break, Sharon. Shit. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"

"You haven't even apologized one time, you idiot" she simply retorted with a roll of her eyes and then she quickly stepped into the elevator when the doors opened up. Andy followed, now grumbling under his breath.

The elevator doors closed and Andy wondered whether she was intentionally trying his patience; he consented himself with glaring at the display, the number slowly going up.

After a little moment of unbearable silence she coughed and then asked, voice now too casual, "What's in the bag?"

Andy looked back at her, catching her eyeing the pastry bag in his hand.

"Nothing," Andy replied nonchalantly only to annoy her, his eyes narrowed at her – it only managed to make her lips twitch into a bemused smile. The action confused him to the extreme; why when he was nice to her she was angry and now that he was being obviously difficult she smiled at him – it made no sense whatsoever.

"Don't be a baby," she huffed, a little strangled tint of laughter in her voice now.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Baby! I'm not the baby – you are the baby."

"Excuse me?"

"You've barred me access to your floor out of spite – I've been looking like a complete fool the last month every time I've tried to get in through the door, standing there and being denied access as if I was some lowly officer from traffic. I had to tell people I was barred from hell because I'd gotten too many traffic tickets. A month, Sharon! A freaking month." He paused, trying to get his breath, "not to mention that time in the cafeteria where I waved at you and you didn't wave back! You're mean."

Her smile turned to that lopsided expression that told him she was amused.

"It's called self-preservation, honey," she said, her voice now sweet.

Andy quirked an eyebrow at her, "Oh really – I call it a devious ploy to prevent me from actually apologizing to you in person – an evil ploy to humiliate me in front of my peers," he stepped closer to her and then heatedly, "I call it revenge."

"Oh so this now is you apologizing – officially?" she gave a nod to the coffee cup in her hand, "bribing yourself into my good graces with a simple coffee?"

"Coffee never did anything to anyone," Andy defended himself.

"You could have phoned me, you know?" her voice turned carefully neutral now.

"Well," Andy explained, "I was afraid you wouldn't answer."

Sharon rolled her eyes.

Andy smiled and then with flair he opened the pastry bag so she could look inside, "Yes I'm bribing you – and I've got you blueberry scones from that place you adore," he looked up and caught her eyes crinkled, "Make a notice, Captain, that's plural; four scones to be exact – to be consumed by you and only you."

Her smile turned soft and it was the first time in almost a month that she looked at him with genuine affection. Andy smiled back.

"I stood in line for a goddamn hour to get you all this fancy-pancy stuff not to mention the price – goddamn, Sharon, that place is not for people with my income."

She laughed and looked him directly in the eye, "You and I both know you never stand in line for anything – you flash your badge like some badly-written cop out of a b-movie."

Andy shrugged seeing no point in denying the obvious; her smile turned smug in return.

"So," Andy ventured "are we good?"

"No – I want a formal letter of apology on my desk this afternoon, with a detailed explanation of what you did and why it was wrong. Grammar-checked – and handwritten too."

"Sha-ron," Andy mock-whined.

"We're good," she relented in between coffee sips – her smile turned serious. "But Andy – it can't ever happen again –okay? Next time you'll end up being forcibly retired and I won't lift a finger to help you."

Andy quickly interrupted, "Yeah, yeah – I know the deal. I need to control my anger issues better in the future and all that jazz."

Her lips pursed, her pout a mix between sullen and annoyed.

Andy gently pushed his shoulder against hers, his head tilted and a wide smile, "I'm just watching out for you but I promise I'll try to do better in the future."

She sighed, "That's not very reassuring," she paused and then, "Why does you watching out for me always end with you being sent off to anger management class and someone with a bloody nose?"

"I didn't give the bastard a bloody nose."

"No –not this time."

Andy waggled his eyebrows, "Hey – at least we have interesting stories to tell the grandkids, huh."

"You're an idiot."

"But I'm your idiot?" he cheekily retorted.

She agreed with another laugh, "Yes."

The elevator dinged, it was Andy's floor; he gave the bag to Sharon and then stood in the doorway of the elevator, eyeing her.

"What?" she said, a little shy smile.

"You look beautiful today," he said to her and enjoyed her pleased smile and the deepening of green in her eyes.

"If you were this sweet and considerate every day, lieutenant, I'd daresay your permanent record would be spot-less."

Andy nodded and smiled, "True – though then you and I would never see each other."

She laughed.

"How are your connections with Captain West from Traffic?" Andy asked, trying to make his voice sound innocent.

"Contrary to popular belief," Sharon started her voice dry, "I do not have sinister connections to the traffic division – I simply try to avoid getting into car accidents while I'm on duty. That's why they like me."

Andy huffed, "Right."

She smiled and then gave a little glare to him preventing the elevator doors from closing, "Goodbye, lieutenant."

Andy smiled, "Have a splendid day, Captain."

She gave a little wave and the elevator doors closed; Andy smiled to himself – at least now he did not have to worry about getting on her good side anymore.

"Why are you here so early?" Provenza asked him when Andy came into the murder room – the old man was the only one there.

"Had some business to take care of," Andy answered, trying to contain a cheerful smile.

"Oh god," Provenza belabored, "what's wrong with you?"

"Huh?"

"That big smile on your face – it's disturbing," the old man munched on a celery stick, "You're up to something? That's it, right?"

Andy rolled his eyes, "You're the one chewing on that awful stuff," he pointed at the celery, "you must be up to something."

They continued to grumble at each other, Andy drinking his own spiced coffee while Provenza continued to munch on his precious celery sticks.

...

/NO GOOD DEED/

"The coast is clear," Andrew Flynn said in a sarcastic drawl to Sharon Raydor as she hovered outside the entrance to his murder room, surreptiously glancing inside to make sure no one was there but him. Andy was sitting in his chair, simultaneously eating rice from a china box and reading through a little nest of reports on his desk; the murder room was otherwise empty.

Sharon displayed an awkward, crooked smile and then sauntered inside the room, a tupperware container in her hands that she did a poor job of hiding behind her back.

"There's rumor going around that some bad-tempered lieutenant is handing out free take-away," she said with a tilted head, her eyes on the one unopened Chinese take-away box on Andy's desk and the opened one in his hands as she approached him, her lips parting in a sly smile.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Yeah, if you recall, I called you less than a minute ago with the invitation to join me – no need to roll out the drama."

"Drama – that's high coming from you," Sharon rolled her eyes in return and then imitated him, a deep growl, her lips pursed comically, "Hey Captain – I've gotta hostage situation down here, you wanna come help me?"

Andy shrugged with a smile, "Betcha you jumped out of your skin."

She glared at him, standing next to his desk now and being able to look down at him from her vantage point, "It is not a joking matter. You could simply have told me – nicely – that you had extra food and wanted me to join you for a take-away dinner."

"Nah – too boring."

"Yes – it's rather unusual for you to be considerate, lieutenant – especially without expecting something in return; so color me suspicious – what do you need since you're giving me food?"

"Well," he drawled, "now that you mention it, I do need you to get down on your knees before you are allowed to eat my take-away," he pointed at his lap, lifted an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Her lips twitched, "That's not happening, buddy."

"You can't blame me for trying."

"Yes, I can."

"Shh, woman – just eat your delicious food," he gave the china box to her and watched as she sat down on his desk, scooting his paperwork to the side and setting down the tupperware container next to her, opening up her china box and digging into it immediately with gusto.

Andy popped another spoonful of rice in his mouth and leaned back in his chair, his knee bumping into her crossed legs.

Sharon was already munching on her second mouthful of rice, her own spoon pointed at him in between lingering in her mouth; she gave a satisfied, appreciative hum, eyes sparkling.

"Are they starving you again?" Andy teased her, watching as she practically swallowed before chewing, her tongue briefly out to lick her bottom lip.

"I've been in budget meetings all day – you have no idea," she replied with a long-suffering sigh and Andy thought she did indeed look a bit tired – not a fact he would ever mention to her if he wanted to keep his balls; instead he groaned, "I feel for you."

She arched an eyebrow and then in a deep, sultry voice, "You always feel for me."

Andy shook his head, "Damn, you're something when you're hungry," he smirked, "I like it."

"Mm-hmm," she agreed around another mouthful of fried rice.

Andy munched on his own fried rice and then with a curious look to the tupperware container on his desk, he inched his chair towards his desk. He was in the middle of reaching out for the container when Sharon – out of nowhere – slapped his wrist rather harshly, "Nu-oh," she scolded him, "not before you've finished your dinner."

Andy looked up and caught her eyes, a humorous glint. "Really?" he said, voice dry.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed again, already on to another mouthful of rice.

Andy rolled his eyes and then they ate in silence for a moment.

"You know," Sharon voiced after her frenzy eating had lessened somewhat, "I've got a bone to pick with you."

"Huh?" Andy asked with his mouth full – he smiled when he caught her small disgusted look; she abhorred it when he spoke with his mouth full.

"Narcotics have been complaining about you," she explained, "again."

"What did I do this time? Look at them cross-eyed? Step on their little toes?"

"Something along those lines, yes."

"It's not my fault they are a bunch of cry-babies; do I need to hold their hands now as well? Cuddle them and pat them on the head when they actually don't screw up a crime scene?"

"Maybe you should just refrain from verbally attacking them in the middle of their own squadroom while Hollywood-division is visiting; I think that would solve most of your problems with other divisions in this building."

Andy laughed, "You should have seen it though; it was marvelous."

She tilted her head in disapproval, "If I had witnessed it, you idiot, I would have to come up with yet another punitive lesson for you, not to mention the paperwork I would once again have to endure due to your belittling of others."

"Uh," Andy smiled around a groan, "That sounds absolutely dirty; you know I love being punished by you."

She rolled her eyes, "Tone it down, Mister."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," he saluted her with the spoon.

She gave him a smile.

When they had both finished their fried rice, china boxes empty and in the trashcan, Andy clapped his hands together with a gleeful look at the tupperware container, "At last! What did you bring me this time?" he smiled eagerly, "please tell me you've baked it yourself and that it contains chocolate."

She laughed, "You've got it half right."

His glee disappeared, "I don't like where this is going."

"I did indeed bake it myself," she leaned forward and patted his knee in a bad attempt at consoling him.

"I don't like this at all," he pouted, the knowledge that it was not her infamous brownies in that container dampening his spirits.

"Oh, you poor thing," she cooed in a strange sugary voice, her hair falling in front of her as she leaned even closer to him – why she would end up falling into his lap any second now if she leaned any further, "poor little baby," she ended with pursed lips; a feigned look of compassion.

Andy crossed his arms, "Well, I'm not hungry now."

Nonchalant she leaned back, took the container and put it in her lap. "What a shame," she sighed, her eyes on him with a dangerous dark glint, "I'll just have to eat them all by myself." She opened the lid and Andy saw her reach in and take out a pink colored macaron with black-brown crème.

"Pink?" he smirked, "You've got to be kidding me! You know this will definitely ruin your reputation when it gets out."

She bit into the little pink cake, a long satisfied hum escaping her mouth as she chewed; it did look delicious even if it was a ghastly color but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"Okay, okay – what flavor did you make that atrocious thing?" Andy relented after watching Sharon munch on the pink thing, eyes closed and hums coming from her throat that had nothing to with enjoying desert; at least not to him.

"Eat one and you'll find out," she told him, lips twitching as she offered him the container, her tongue out to lick her lips again.

Andy rolled his eyes but took a pink macaron nonetheless; he slowly turned it around in his hand, narrowing his eyes as he glared at it as if it had offended him. It had in some ways – he would rather be munching on brownies.

"Oh for heaven's sake, just eat it," Sharon huffed out, "I have your precious brownies at home; you can have the whole bunch tomorrow."

Andy looked away from the offensive pink macaron in his hand, feeling cheated, "You have brownies at home and you didn't bring them? What kind of monster are you?"

"I'm saving them for a proper occasion," she replied, voice sounding superior in that way she usually liked to lecture in, "And I thought you would like my macarons," the last was said with a pout.

Andy ignored her pretend-sad frown, "What proper occasion? I would think your favorite lieutenant saving a box of delicious fried rice with chicken for you would count as a proper occasion for giving said lieutenant brownies?"

"No, no," she shook her head with a smile, "A proper occasion entails you in my kitchen for at least two hours, concocting delicious Italian food for me to consume; nothing less will do." She couldn't contain her lips and they quirked upwards even if she was going for a serious expression.

Andy grinned, "Consider yourself properly dined tomorrow then."

She pouted, "I can't – not tomorrow."

"What – you have a date or something," he laughed until he realized she was silent and was directing a funny look at the half-eaten macaron in her hand.

"You've got a date," he sputtered, feeling both a bit overwhelmed and surprised; and remarkably curious about it.

She merely smiled – a strange, somewhat mysterious smile – and then she popped the half macaron in her mouth.

"Is this why you're baking goddamn pink macarons?" he shook his head. It made perfect sense now – of course only Sharon Raydor would concern herself with throwing a baking fit when she had a date, in pink colors just to add a little extra flair.

"You nervous?" Andy teased, "What - it's like the third date or something?"

"No," she replied, eyes narrowed as she gave him a confused look, "why would you say that?"

"Well," he drew the word out till she looked appropriately annoyed, "you've obviously been on some sort of whacky baking spree and you've become attached to the color pink even if I'm sure that's a repellant when you derive from the lower circles of hell. I'd daresay that would qualify as you being nervous."

She didn't reply but took another macaron out of her container, her eyebrows furrowed as she bit into it.

Andy scooted his chair closer, putting both of his hands down on her knees, a little soft caress with his thumbs just above her kneecaps. "Hey," he spoke softly and she looked at him, a look that was a cross between annoyance and fondness. Andy grinned, "We can always act out a pretend-date, you and me, huh? I'll tell you the do's and don'ts'. I'll even show you some moves? How about it?"

She laughed, "That's a terrible idea – unless I want to be a lecherous old man."

Andy took a firm grasp of her right leg, holding onto her as he tickled the backside of her knee lightly, "You are the worst. Here I give away my precious time to help you prepare and you shoot me down. Horrible – just horrible."

She interrupted him, a little giggle, "You're terrible at dates, Andy!"

"I am not."

"Yes, you are."

Andy glared, "I've never heard you complain."

Her eyes widened, "That's because they are not dates – they are," she stopped short, obviously trying to think of a word to explain what it was when they got together over dinner.

"Yeah," Andy smirked, "they are playful dinner dates – just admit it – you've been dating me for years."

She shook her head, "They are friendly get-togethers – like family dinners." She smiled, satisfied.

Andy grinned, "That would be awkward – seeing how many times I've imagined you naked and sweating and moaning."

"You are bit of a sleazebag, yes," she smirked, "similar to a creepy cousin."

Andy shook his head, "You wound me, you really do. You're supposed to reciprocate and tell me about the times you've found me irresistible. Damn it, Sharon, with your tactlessness you're going to blow the date."

She lifted an eyebrow, a devious glint now in her eyes, "Sooo," she drawled and she imitated his voice again "I'll blow it alright."

She smiled and Andy smiled back; they both laughed when they couldn't keep the mask any longer.

"Seriously though - " she began when their laughter had died down, "you can make me dinner Thursday."

Andy nodded, "Candlelight, jazz music and all the usual stuff – why it'll be perfectly friendly."

Sharon smiled.

"So, who's the lucky guy?" Andy prodded, then paused, "Chick?"

She leaned close and stuck her tongue out at him before she answered. "I haven't a clue – Gavin has set me up on a blind date – apparently he's under the delusion that I need to 'get out there'." She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips now.

Andy grinned, "I hope you told Gavin you're not going for lawyers anymore."

"Gavin knows."

"Speaking of lawyers, what's Jack doing nowadays?" It was only as the words left his mouth he realized the mistake.

Her face closed in on itself, expressionless within a second, "I don't know," she said her voice neutral – she looked at her wrist, "I've gotta go."

"Sharon, I'm sorry – I didn't mean to upset - "

"It's alright," she said in a tight voice, already off his desk, sliding towards the exit. "We'll talk later," she said over her shoulder to him and then she breezed out of the murder room as if she was needed somewhere else.

Andy sighed; he had forgotten it was the one subject that he was not supposed to dig into to. Idiot, he thought. With another sigh he popped the yet uneaten macaron in his hand into his mouth, chewing as he wondered whether he should call her to apologize again. He found himself humming, the goddamn macaron was delicious.

"Why are you eating pink macarons?" Provenza asked, having managed to sneak up on Andy, the tupperware container with a dozen macarons still on Andy's desk.

Provenza leaned close, a narrowed look on the small cakes; he then looked at Andy with a scrutinized glare; "Are you sick?"

"They are delicious," Andy defended.

Provenza reached a hand out to take one.

Andy slapped his wrist, "Nope – you can't have them; they are mine."

Provenza looked to the ceiling with obvious annoyance.

"Uuuhhh, macarons," the chief said as she came strolling into the murder room, grapping one before Andy could protest.

Andy crossed his arms and sighed. He growled at Provenza, "Go ahead, take one too."

Provenza popped a whole macaron into his mouth, unable to chew without looking like a complete fool.

Andy grinned and said in a nonchalant voice, "Captain Raydor made them," he watched cheerfully as Provenza sputtered and turned a nice shade of pale; the old fool probably thought Sharon had poisoned them.

…

/OVERKILL/

"Your devil friend is here," Provenza groused, his eyes going from somewhere behind Andrew Flynn's head to his tumbler with whiskey, a dramatic sigh before he drowned the rest of the whiskey in the glass, "She looks pissed."

"What are you talking about?" Andy griped back as he looked over his shoulder, confused until his eyes latched onto a familiar figure in a black trench coat. "Oh, yeah she's pissed alright," Andy agreed when he noticed the rigidly crossed arms and the way her lips tightened when her searching gaze landed on him.

"Oh damn, she's coming over," Andy sighed, quickly putting on an innocent smile as he watched her stalk across the bar, eyes narrowed in an angry glare at him.

"What have you done now?" Provenza accused him.

"Shit, I haven't done anything! When in the world would I have time to do anything?" Andy complained, "I've been busy – what with your mad as a hatter friend trying to shoot up the entire murder room."

Provenza glared back, "He's not my friend."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Andy drawled back, "I thought after that whole exchanging of gun-purses it was a sure deal."

"Oh go to hell," Provenza fired back.

"Yeah, hell's ascending on me alright," Andy managed to whisper back before Sharon came to a stop next to their table.

"Are you a complete idiot?" she greeted Andy with a snarl, completely ignoring the presence of Provenza.

"Excuse me," Andy said, feeling there was important context he was missing; he searched his brain for anything he might have done to offend her since the last time they had talked – it was impossible; he had been on his best behavior. Well bar that incident with Vice the other day but she couldn't possibly know about that.

Provenza looked gleeful now, smiling into his whiskey – he probably took enjoyment from watching Andy being in trouble.

"You are technically still on call, aren't you" Sharon ground out between her teeth, hands on her hips, "Which means you are supposed to be reachable by phone!" she stopped briefly, eyes narrowing even further and then she continued, her voice sounding even more heated, "You are a lieutenant, are you not? Not some rookie just out of the academy."

Andy shook his head in disbelief, quickly patting the pockets of his trousers and then his suit jacket slung over the back of the bench; they were empty but for his wallet and badge.

Shit.

Instead of apologizing though, he glared back – she had never been this fussy about a crappy phone before. Her unjustified anger annoyed him so he directed a sarcastic drawl her way, "Yeah – sorry, Captain – I think I might have forgotten my phone when some lunatic decided to shoot my murder room to pieces. Give me a break."

Her frown deepened, "Exactly the reason why I tried to get a hold of you."

"Well, I'm so sorry you couldn't get a hold of me," he gritted, his jaw clenched now, "but I've been busy. I'm sure your buddy Kershaw can tell you all there is to know about the shooting – no need to pester me."

Andy smiled but only because she looked ready to stomp her foot at him in exasperation.

"Oh, just shut up for a second," she pointed her finger at him, "I'm off duty and on vacation, I don't know any damn thing about what happened. I just received a call from the Chief – and you know what! I spent the whole car ride to central trying to reach you because no one knew what had happened. A shooting on third floor and two casualties and I thought you were dead." She ended her tirade sounding almost breathless.

"Oh," Andy said, feeling as if he had gotten the wind knocked out of him, "well, I'm fine."

"I can see that," she said her voice more controlled now but there was still a snip of anger in it.

Provenza shook his head and then stood up. "I'm touched by your concern for my wellbeing as well, Captain – seeing I was the one who would have been dead and not Flynn here."

Sharon gave him a flat stare, "I'm glad to see you up and about, lieutenant."

Provenza saluted her sloppily, a sly smile one his lips. "You want a glass of wine to calm your nerves, Captain?" the old man offered and then with another smirk, "before you start a riot?"

Sharon glared at Provenza now, "I'm officially on duty in ten minutes, what do you think lieutenant?"

Provenza made a funny 'yikes' expression, shaking his head at Andy before he sauntered up to the bar to get himself another whiskey.

"C'mon, just calm down, Sharon," Andy said to her with a gentle smile hoping she wouldn't throw a fit. He was relieved when she blew out a sigh, anger quickly evaporating from her body stance.

"Andy," she said her voice sounding brittle, "I couldn't get a hold of you and I had this strange feeling and - " she stopped, taking another inhalation, "I panicked." Andy could distinguish the miniature signs that she was trying to control her emotions, the way she moved her hands behind her back to hide that they were trembling and the little tell-tale sign of her mouth pursing only to flatten out again in a line. Her complexion even seemed more pale than usual.

"Hey," he said, standing up, "I'm fine," he laid a hand on her shoulder; she was shivering, her eyes covered by a film of water now.

She sniffed once, "I'm so mad at you right now."

Andy gave her a soft smile, "I'm perfectly alright."

Her answering smile was tremulous and she immediately pulled him into a brief but intense hug, her breath hot on his neck and her arms fully around his body; "I'm sorry," she whispered as she let go.

Andy rubbed her arm and then sitting down again on the bench, he scooted inwards making room for her beside him; she sat down, close to him and with a little bemused shake of her head.

"I'm sorry too," Andy told her, snaking his arm under hers and giving her a gently push shoulder against shoulder, "I completely forgot my phone on my desk – and now our murder room is a crime scene; we kinda got thrown out after our depositions."

Sharon nodded, her eyes warm, "I'm just glad I found you."

Andy smiled back and then sobered catching Provenza standing at the bar ordering drinks.

"He's pretty out of it though, the poor thing," he gave a nod to the bar and Provenza.

Sharon nodded, eyes on Provenza for a short second as well before she looked back at Andy.

"So, why is Kershaw conducting the I.A. investigation into the shooting?"

"It's called delegating, lieutenant. Lieutenant Kershaw is very much capable and he's more than ready to take on a larger case," Sharon explained, her voice sounding rehearsed in such a way that Andy suspected he was not the first to have asked her; she had probably been forced to explain that to an irate Chief of Police on more than one account.

"Then why are you officially on duty in," he looked at his watch, "8 minutes?"

She sighed, "The Chief of Police called me personally, expressly ordered me to supervise the case."

"So, the Chief doesn't like Kershaw, huh. You know, I don't like Kershaw either."

"Of course you don't."

"No really, he bugs me."

She gave him a long look, "Every I.A officer bugs you, Andy."

He grinned, "Yeah – even you."

She smiled, "Especially me."

"Ahem," Provenza said returning to the table, putting down a glass of sparkling water in front of the Captain, sitting down with his own new whiskey glass, "So you two done with your little conspiracy-chat?"

Andy rolled his eyes.

Sharon gave Provenza a polite smile, "Thank you for the water, Lieutenant."

"Yeah, you owe me ten."

Sharon's smile wavered slightly, "I'll remember that the next time you happen upon a traffic ticket and need to visit my office."

Provenza gave her a tight smile.

Andy was not so sure this was a good idea, these two at the same table and sharing the same air; Sharon now sitting rigidly beside him, an awkward hand around the water glass, Provenza was mumbling something into his whiskey glass, looking morose; Andy wavered between wanting to cheer his buddy up and then simply enveloping Sharon in another hug.

Andy took a sip from his cranberry juice and then in an attempt to start a conversation, "So, you were saying something about a vacation, Captain?"

Sharon looked dumfounded at him for a long moment and then, "Oh, yes. The Chief forced me to take two whole weeks off."

Provenza looked up from his whiskey with interest, "Forced vacation? Why?" he sounded eager and Andy figured the grumpy idiot probably thought Sharon used 'vacation' as a nice term for forced mandatory leave without pay.

Sharon shook her head, a little smile at the corner of her mouth; she obviously knew what Provenza was implying. "I've stacked up so much overtime during the course of this year that the Chief saw fit to send me on vacation instead of actually paying my overtime – apparently he thinks two weeks full pay will be cheaper."

Provenza arched an eyebrow, disbelief in his smile, "How much overtime can you accumulate in Internal Affairs?"

Andy joined in with a smirk, "How can you accumulate overtime at all when all you do is shuffle paper?"

Sharon looked between them, her head tilted and her voice saccharine when she answered, "Have I ever told you two how much you deserve each other, partner-wise?"

"Well," Andy started.

Sharon interrupted him, "That was a rhetorical question."

Provenza laughed, "Yeah, sorry, Captain, Flynn doesn't do rhetorical; that's above his paycheck."

Andy fake-laughed at Provenza, "Thanks buddy."

Provenza raised his glass and mouthed cheers before he took a long slurp.

Andy briefly looked to the ceiling at Provenza's antics and then he took a sip from his cranberry juice. Andy was surprised when suddenly Sharon's hand slipped into his, hidden underneath the table, her slender fingers between his feeling a bit chill. He gave her a probing look out of the corner of his eye but she wasn't looking at him, instead she was shaking her head at Provenza who was grumbling something offensive no doubt; but Andy did catch the small smile she was trying to hide.

He squeezed her hand back, his thumb going over the back of her hand. He took another sip of his cranberry juice, thinking that this was not that strange; they might not be that affectionate with their friendship but this felt rather nice.

"You know I can see you, right?" Provenza grumbled and Sharon immediately retracted her hand, a little blush on her cheeks now.

Andy grinned; she was always adorable when she was flustered.

"See what?" Andy grumbled back at Provenza, twirling the last of his cranberry juice around in his tumbler with nonchalance.

"Being all handsy – please spare me it; I'm starting to feel sick."

"Maybe it's the whiskey," Sharon retorted, her voice dry.

"Nah, I can handle my liquor," Provenza fired back, "but seeing emotion on your face is an entirely different deal."

"I'm thrilled to know my efforts at assimilating human behavior have finally paid out. You don't know how many hours I've spent in front of a mirror trying to mimic a human face," Sharon delivered with a straight face; one eyebrow lifted higher than the other.

Andy laughed, "You still need to work on that, Capt'n – your face is blank most of the time."

Provenza shook his head with a smirk, "Shh, Flynn, you wound the robot. She's probably put her facial muscles on autopilot, don't belittle the robot's efforts at fitting in. Tsk, tsk."

Sharon rolled her eyes slowly, "Gentlemen," her voice turned sly and superior, "you can grumble all you want but I still earn more than the two of you combined." Her eyes glinted and her smile seemed almost dark.

Andy moved his hand and patted her knee under the table, "So – you're buying the next round?"

She shook her head but it was with a smile, "If you insist."

"We do - intensely," Provenza proclaimed and they watched as she slid out of the booth with a little bow.

Sharon smiled wide, "Watch out boys – I'm going to use my satanic heritage to flirt with the bartender." She left with a sway, the black trench coat now open and billowing behind her; Andy stared after her, seeing her heels for the first time – he shook his head even as he grinned.

He turned his head and regarded his partner, "What is wrong with her! I think those heels are even higher than what she usually wears."

They both looked up at the bar where Sharon now had managed to lean against it, a god-awful flirtatious smile at the young bartender. Andy groaned at the sight.

Provenza grinned, "Everything is wrong with her – and only you would know the height of her heels, you idiot."

Andy ignored him; instead he focused on Sharon's heels again and especially her legs in the heels.

After a couple of unbearable minutes Sharon came back to their table, a tray balanced in her right hand; she deposited it on the table; "Free of charge." She winked at them.

Provenza raise an eyebrow in disbelief, "You've got to be kidding!"

She merely smiled, "I've got to run – you enjoy your night."

Andy quickly leapt to his feet, mumbling that he would be back to Provenza – he followed Sharon outside, her arm in his the moment they were outside and no one could see them. The street lights were just being turned on, darkness settling in.

Sharon stopped up next to her car, her head tilted back fractionally so she could look at him. They were a strange color in the evening light. Andy smiled back at her, finding her looking unusually soft in this light.

He put his thumb on her cheek, a tentative little caress before he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her smile immediately turned strange and she hurriedly took a step back, looking flustered. "I'll give you a call, um, later." she forced another smile, this one shy and awkward.

Andy sighed; she was always difficult to deal with when she was emotional.

"Sure," he replied and before she could run away he swiftly enveloped her in another hug; his nose buried in the top of her head, the scent of her hair heavy. It had been a close call tonight; he was just glad he was able to see her again. She hugged him back, her voice sounding small, "Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I won't," he promised.

"Goodnight," she said, hurriedly stepping out of his embrace.

"Night," he replied watching her getting into her car and driving away.

...

/SERVING THE KING/

"You have been avoiding me," Sharon Raydor's voice surprised Andrew Flynn as she greeted him down by the morgue when he turned a corner on his way back to the third floor, the medical examiners report on the murder/suicide in his hands. Andy had just gone over the specifics with Dr. Crippen and now all that was left to tend to was paperwork that any half-brained rookie could write up in his sleep. Needless to say Andy was already in a bad mood and frankly, the sight of Sharon only needled him further over the edge.

Sharon's smile was soft and sly at the same time, one hand on her hip as she quirked her eyebrow at him; she obviously thought her comment was a little joke when in reality it was the truth.

"Yeah," Andy replied, angry that she had managed to track him down when he had explicitly told Taylor and the rest of the goon squad to give his whereabouts to no one. Well, that would teach him – yet again – to trust the slimy greaseball and those idiots. Andy gritted his teeth, tension in his body.

Her smile instantly disappeared, "You have been avoiding me?"

Andy crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he glared at her. "Yes."

Now Sharon crossed her arms as well, a confused expression on her face that would look comical under different circumstances, "I don't understand," she said and even her innocent voice annoyed him to no end; her god-awful attire annoyed him, her heels and the color of her hair. Her whole existence was just one big fat annoyance.

Andy rolled his eyes, "Oh please – you know very well why I've been avoiding you."

"I haven't a clue," she said a little snip of aggravation now in her tone, her chin tilted up in a fashion he found to be a haughty look on her.

Andy shrugged and then walked past her, "Well, I'm busy and I don't have time for you right now."

He heard her follow him, her heels making a frustrated sound against the floor. An exasperated breath left her mouth, "Don't be childish, just tell me what's wrong – I don't need you going all passive-aggressive on me – not today."

Andy ignored her, going straight for the elevator at the end of the hallway. He pressed the button and then glared at her when she came to stand next to him, her eyes on him, arms crossed, obviously demanding an answer from him.

"You are unbelievable," he said, voice hard and rough – he wished she would just leave him alone and yet he yearned to yell at her.

"And you are an ass," she replied, her lips now tight. She averted her eyes from him, instead focused on the elevator – in profile she looked pissed off, he thought with some glee. Andy wondered how much it would take to get her to completely lose control and yell at him. It was strange because he had an almost fervent wish to make her cry; it felt both wrong and right this feeling and he was sure it had a lot more to do with his crappy mood than it had to do with her existence.

"At least I don't stab my friends in the back," he threw the accusation at her when she continued to stand without saying anything.

Andy took delight in the appearance of indignation in the midst of her eyes; he enjoyed the way anger replaced control in her expression and that she now seemed on the verge of lashing out; her lips trembling with pique, eyes flashing with irritation and her body ramrod straight in a vertical line – he glared back with equal resentment.

"For your sake I think it would be wise to use the term 'friends' lightly because I'm really not feeling it in this moment," there was ice in her voice – it did not cool him down in the slightest; it only spurred him on. She paused briefly, her lips pursed, "What have I done to you that's so damnable?"

"You're the reason I've been in hell for four months, Sharon," Andy roared, "Four months of taking orders from Taylor who wants nothing more than to gloat and rub my face in it every goddamn second. The slime ball is so far gone in feeling smug he has lost the ability to even solve simple B&E's, getting fucking bread crumbs on my desk every time he saunters past. You have no idea how close I am to putting my fist through a wall," he paused for a second to take a breath and then continued, the volume only going up, "Four months of listening to Ross talk nonsense and that idiot McHale barely able to talk without injuring himself – fucking smartass – how that idiot even graduated from the academy is beyond my comprehension.

"Yes," he scowled at her, his voice almost cracking at the intensity, "I've been avoiding you for months because I thought it would better to not speak to you at all."

Andy watched her, the stunned expression and the slightly open mouth, and he continued to rant at her, anger warm under his skin, "I'm so angry at you I can't even look at you without feeling ready to strangle you. Shit." He blew out a breath of air, feeling almost exhausted.

Sharon turned her head and then she completely ignored him, hands by her side rigidly and when the elevator dinged she walked into it before the doors had properly opened. She stood in the back, her eyes dead-set on the display.

Andy sighed but followed her, standing opposite her, "The silent treatment – that's great."

Her lips twitched into a firm line.

"You know it's funny but I thought you were supposed to protect us; not rat us out and force retirement on whomever you see fit to punish. I thought you were on my side."

"Just stop talking," she said, her voice low but frightfully clear.

"What the fuck is the deal with splitting up my team and sending everyone off to god knows where and then bringing in Taylor to be in charge! Shit, that's the worst decision you've ever made. Damn, Sharon – I thought you barely tolerated the guy."

"I said," she bit out, her voice sounding threatening, "stop talking to me."

Andy furrowed his brows, "Well, I'll stop talking when you stop pestering me."

She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips for a brief moment before her expression turned into marble, "That sounds like a plan. I'll stop pestering you and you refrain from talking to me, at all. Can you manage that simple little thing, lieutenant?" her eyebrow lifted in condescension.

"I've been perfectly fine the last four months now, haven't I!"

"Good," she bit out.

The elevator dinged again and Andy walked out on his floor without a backwards glance. It was only as the elevator doors closed again he changed his mind; he cursed and then without thinking about it he swiftly changed directions, flinging open the door into the emergency staircase, taking the stairs two at a time – all the way up to the fifth floor. If he was quick he would be able to catch Sharon before she disappeared into the haunted corridors of Internal Affairs.

By the end of his run Andy was out of breath, his heart racing with both exertion and anger; he caught the back of her figure just before she closed the door into her office. He followed her, pushing her door open without a knock, the door slamming into the wall with a loud crack. His eyes narrowed as he took in her expression; a mix of surprise and outright fury.

"You are not even going to defend yourself?" he snarled at her, "No excuses this time? – I find that hard to believe. You feeling guilty?"

"I'm not going to sink to your level and defend myself against your delusional tantrum," she replied, her voice neutral and her complexion carefully controlled now; she seemed patient – a feeling he could not relate to at all.

"So four months go by and you couldn't give a crap," he accused her – Andy had been doing his best to avoid her but he still felt chafed she had not sought him out with more effort.

"Lieutenant, I regret to inform you that I had nothing to do with any decisions concerning your former squad and its disintegration. I know it's hard for you to understand that I do not have sinister intentions. I merely signed off on the I.A investigation into the shooting in your squadroom – and frankly I have nothing to do with the consequences of that incident; it's the Chief of Police and the FBI you should direct your little tirade at," her voice strengthened, "I am not the one who's deciding everyone's fate and if I was in charge I would do exactly the same as Kershaw, the Chief of Police and the FBI have recommended and have done in this situation."

Andy gaped at her, "You're kidding – you would retire Provenza and throw Sanchez to the wolves? You would fucking reward Taylor?"

"Yes," she said, and then "I'm considering retiring you – if you continue to harass me."

Andy shook his head, indignation and anger definitely out of control now, "Yes – I should expect that from you – you're one cold-hearted bitch."

Her smile was derisive, "Thank you, lieutenant Flynn – that'll be all."

Andy answered with a sarcastic salute, slamming her office door after him.

Bitch.

…

Thank you all for the wonderful feedback; much appreciated. =)