First of all I want to thank and each of every one of you who took the time to review and offer me words of encouragement. It's always nice to know that the readers love and appreciate what you write! I wasn't expecting to get such a response from this idea, but I'm glad you all liked it. This chapter is a longer, but there was a lot more to cover…the next chapter should be even longer. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: the characters and their respective shows are not mine, only the plot
Andy stood up abruptly from his leather armchair, tossing his phone onto the desk with frustration. He ran his hands through salt and pepper hair at the back of his head and over his face. That wasn't exactly how he'd imagined the conversation to go, or the way he wanted it to if he was being completely honest.
He slowly paced the length of his home office, barely noticing the light jazz that filtered through the sound system. As he walked he flexed and loosened his fists, willing himself to calm down; he wasn't angry…at least not with Sharon. He was angry at the universe that seemed to have a funny sense of humor, which had decided that this would be his penance.
Andy hadn't always been the best guy. Like he had told Rusty that day in the patrol car, his past was littered with questionable actions, some that he'd rather forget. He wasn't just talking about his youth, but his life as a whole, and he wished on so many occasions that he could take what he had done back. He slumped gracelessly into his office chair and laid his head in his hands, feeling the hard surface beneath them.
In fact when he had first met Sharon, she had been the hard-nosed, no nonsense sergeant from FID that had bluntly stated what a mess he was. The more she pushed and prodded him the more he despised her; she was the woman who had driven him nuts. He always knew it was serious when she turned up at one of his OIS, that her commanding officer knew the kind of repertoire they had and how he would comply with whatever she seemed fit.
He had been horrible to her…called her vicious and vile names, behind her back and even to her face, to appease his comrades in arms and on some subconscious level, his own feelings towards her. Whenever she would walk into a room, officers would become silent and then talk about her under their breath. Some weren't as subtle and left reminders on her desk and car windows, something she would see every day. It was one of those times when their relationship inevitably changed.
Andy was strolling through the parking garage as fast as his legs could carry him, his buddies were meeting him down the street at their local bar…it was time to celebrate the weekend. He had just rounded the corner and was busy fishing his keys out of his pockets when he saw her and stopped cold. She was standing in her standard black power suit and heels staring dejectedly at her silver LAPD issued car.
He couldn't quite see what she was staring at from this angle so he decided to move a little closer. As he inched forward to her he could clearly see what she was staring at now…someone had slashed her front left tire with something and it now lay there deflated.
Much like the woman in front of him, he mused.
She was rubbing her forehead, in what would later become a painfully familiar gesture, her lips pursed into a thin line. His brain told him to keep walking, but something in his heart told him to stop…if it had been anyone else he would have been there to help. He suddenly realized he had stopped next to her, their shoulders almost touching.
He could clearly see the woman's face and the traces of tears that she hadn't had a chance to erase. When she seemed to realize that he had stopped, she straightened her posture and transformed into the FID sergeant he knew so well, her gaze strong and direct as they connected eyes.
Andy shuffled his feet a bit, "Are you alright Sergeant?"
She stared at him, letting nothing slip past her mask of professionalism. He fidgeted as she continued to stare straight through him it seemed. When she felt she had sufficiently ruffled his feathers, she turned back to look at her car, focusing on the flat tire.
"Just fine, Detective," her voice was like ice.
He winced at her response and ok, maybe that wasn't the smartest question to ask. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and realized it was well after six on a Friday night…no tow company would still be open.
"I don't suppose you have a spare, do you?"
A small and self-deprecating smile swept across her face, "I used it Monday evening."
As the words left her lips Andy scanned the rest of the car, leaning slightly forward to inspect the other wheels. Sure enough there was the donut adorning the parallel side of the vehicle; she had already dealt with this once this week. He inhaled deeply and cursed subtly under his breath; he saw her startle out of the corner of his eye.
Offer her a ride, his subconscious said.
He couldn't believe he was actually considering…or that he even felt bad for this woman. But before he could offer up his assistance she was walking away from him, back towards the elevator he had just vacated. He mentally shook himself and rushed after her, finally grabbing her arm insistently to stop her. Sharon whipped around like lightning and the glare he received could have melted titanium.
"Let go of me." she bit out angrily as she pointedly stared at his hand on her arm.
He held up his hands in surrender and then spoke softly to the seething woman in front of him.
"I can drive you home," he offered, "there's no company willing to tow you at this hour, it would cost a fortune."
He watched the petite brunette grip the shoulder strap of her purse that had fallen out of place and reposition it. Her gaze was once again direct, but this time she saw a hint of apprehension; she wasn't trustful and he couldn't blame her. He flashed her what he hoped was a reassuring grin as he offered to take her briefcase.
"Come on," he encouraged, "I wont bite and I don't mind."
She gazed at him a few seconds more before reluctantly nodding her head. As he turned and starting walking in the direction of his car, he couldn't help but smile at the staccato tapping of her heels next to him and the sense of pride that filled him.
From then on his eyes were opened and he saw her, as more than the pain in the ass Sergeant from FID, she was someone he could relate to on some level. The car ride home didn't open a dialogue between them per say but his actions after did. He tried to be better behaved and to drink less, not completely give it up, but that would come later down the road when he was ready.
He hauled himself out of the chair and walked to the wall to turn off the speakers, grabbing his phone from his desk as an after thought. Andy stuffed it into his pocket and switched off the light as he shuffle down the hallway to his front room.
When he had dropped her off that night he had seen her trip up the steps and be welcomed into the house by two small children and their babysitter. From what he briefly saw, there was a little girl and her younger brother, who demanded hugs from their mother before she was even able to set her stuff down. The little girl he later came to know as the talented dancer Emily and the little boy as technologically inclined Ricky; as well as some of the back story behind their life and their mother's.
He kept a close eye on Sharon as she climbed through the ranks of FID and all her accomplishments, but only tangled with her when it was necessary. Their relationship was amicable but stable at best. It wasn't until she started butting heads with Chief Johnson that the ire for her was once again ignited. There was something about her penchant for the rules that rubbed him the wrong way.
He flopped onto the dark leather couch and grabbed the TV remote, flipping through the channels mindlessly. He finally settled on a cooking show, turning the volume down low so he could continue his train of thought.
The ire slowly transformed in to a grudging form of respect when she pulled out all the stops for the Chief and her team, him included, in that debacle of a lawsuit. He began to see that she always did have the interests of the officers at heart, even if she had to follow the rules to do so. When the team learned she had been promoted to the head of Major Crimes, it had annoyed him at first but not as much as everyone else thought. He knew if anyone could do the job, it would be her.
As she slowly came into her own with the team he became her right hand man, he was her voice of reason and sometimes-even wisdom. He smiled as he remembered heatedly telling her that in this squad they learned the names of the victims; she was conscious to do so after that. He began to see her as the leader that she was and when Rusty came along, the woman underneath the façade.
She slowly started to confide in him more, about both the professional and personal. He would patiently listen when they went to coffee or even sometimes dinner, knowing that she just wanted to express her feelings and would seek his input when needed. He had learned early on that she welcomed talk about her children and their doings, but forbade talk about her and Jack or their relationship. He felt that he knew her fairly well and knew there was some barriers that could not be crossed…not yet any way.
It happened one day when it was his turn for the coffee run in the morning. She was already ensconced in her office, so after he had delivered to everyone else he cautiously approached her door and knocked softly. When he head her beckon him in he pushed the door open but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of her.
She was wearing the purple silk blouse that always seemed to make her eyes pop, even if like now, they were shielded behind her glasses. Her smile she gave him was warm and infectious, causing him to grin right back. It was then that he began to see her in a different light yet again. The dinners and causal phone conversations held something more, something burning in the background.
So yes, even though he had been hurt when Provenza told him about the divorce papers, he had defended her. After all there wasn't anything between them…she always showed affection for him but what if he had been reading her wrong all the time?
What if it wasn't what she wanted?
She had been a buffer at Nicole's wedding and the ballet…but that's what friends do for each other, right?
He aggressively clicked the TV off; the only light in his spacious living room was the lamp on the end table. He sat back into the couch and raised his eyes towards the ceiling, the soft glow from the light making shadows that danced. He became so lost in the shadows moving and his own thoughts that he didn't notice the first ring of the doorbell or the second…or even the third. He did however, notice the heavy pounding of a fist on wood.
Startled he flew up from the couch, hell bent on giving whoever it was on the other side of the door a thorough dressing down. He was poised to raise his voice as he swung the door open, his mask a face annoyance, but stopped surprised.
There on his porch, hair illuminated by the faint light, was Sharon Raydor. She looked so small in her black sweater and jeans, barely coming to his chin in her trendy flats. When she looked up into his eyes her own were shinning with a wetness that seemed barely contained and he caught his breath. He saw emotions that he had rarely seen associated with her; defeat like that night of the flat tire and longing like the night of the wedding.
"Andy," she whispered brokenly.
