Disclaimer: S'not mine. I done nicked it, I did.

AN: A little extension to Flight Risk (3.1)

Only Connect

They all had days where they questioned how much good they really did, where catching the culprit felt like no victory at all because the victims were already beyond any help they could render. Justice was cold comfort sometimes, hell, most of the time when it came to murder, and Sharon was newer to this than her Major Crimes colleagues, her skin was not quite so thick after a career in the Force Investigation Division, although for the most part she hid it well. Today she would have given anything for an elephant's hide, because all her maternal empathy felt like a chisel through her heart right now. Then again, judging by Julio's reaction, maybe no amount of experience could inoculate you against some cases…

Lieutenant Provenza, who had been waiting for them outside the ladies room, supported Mrs Logan back to her mother and sister giving Sharon a few minutes to compose herself, at least enough to leave the bathroom. There was a whiff of vomit in the air as she wet her hands under the cold tap and patted her face and neck, breathing deeply. When she looked up, her reflection in the mirror appeared every bit as haunted as she felt.

There was no sign of Rusty when she returned to the squad room where Julio and Amy, who was still in her dress from her date the night before, were boxing up the evidence of their latest case, making room on the murder board for the next victim, Sharon thought despairingly. She drew the blinds in her office and sank into her chair, staring at the crime-scene photos lined up on her desk for a long time before slowly sliding them together and tucking them into a folder as carefully as she might tuck a child into bed. Her mobile pulsed, indicating a missed text or call and she found a message from Rusty saying that he had an errand to run and would see her at home.

Ever more mysterious but a mystery that could wait. Rusty was eighteen now, he had a right to his privacy and Sharon knew she was not the only person he could turn to for advice. Whatever he was hiding, he at least seemed able to confide in Lieutenant Provenza, so she wasn't overly concerned.

'Hey.'

Lieutenant Flynn darkened her doorway, two steaming cups in his hands. He'd waited, as promised.

'Hey,' she responded quietly, sliding some papers out of the way so he could set their coffees down and pull one of the chairs around her desk. They simply coexisted in silence for a long while, slowly draining their cups, their shared sadness a third presence in the room like a low, melancholy chord, unheard but felt down to the marrow. It was enough to just sit together. Besides, anything they might have thought of to say was so obvious as to be redundant: they were so young; they didn't deserve it; it was so pointless, so tragic, so not fair.

Seemingly out of nowhere, the thought she had been pushing firmly to the back of her mind ever since watching the footage from the dump-site overwhelmed her, bringing up bile, and she swivelled towards the bin, scrabbling to keep from getting any in her hair. Nothing rattled the nerves so deeply as the thought of your own children meeting the same terrible fate as your victims and she had spent all day desperately NOT comparing these kids to Ricky and Emily in order to do her job but, in the end, didn't all the parents go home and hug their kids a little harder after a day like this? Didn't they all thank god it had not been their child? Didn't they all shudder at the thought that it ever could have been? No parent should ever have to outlive their children. It was a nightmare, the very worst.

A tissue appeared at her elbow and she took it gratefully, wiping her mouth. Fortunately she hadn't had the time or appetite to eat anything today so it had mostly been coffee. 'I'm sorry,' she apologised, embarrassed.

He shook his head. 'We've all been there. Sometimes our line of work is hard to stomach.'

He wasn't kidding, she thought, opening her top drawer in search of a mint to get the acrid taste out of her mouth.

'Can I make a suggestion?' he asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

'Of course,' she permitted, though she couldn't think of anything he could possibly say to make her feel any better about the senseless deaths of a four and six year old.

'Call your kids,' he said simply, nodding towards the phone. 'You don't have to tell them anything, it just helps hearing their voices sometimes…'

She wondered if he felt like he had the same recourse. 'Are you going to call Nicole?' she asked.

He took a deep breath, leaning back again. 'Actually I was thinking of asking them all out to dinner tomorrow night,' he said, looking a little surprised at his own daring. She couldn't help smiling.

'You should,' she encouraged. He didn't always need an occasion as an excuse to see his family. For all intents and purposes, he was a grandfather now and she knew he was warming up to the role. He could never get back the years with Nicole but perhaps his daughter might gain some perspective as a new parent and he would get to be the kind of role-model and support to her step-sons that he wished he'd been for her when she was younger. Sharon wanted that for Andy. Family was important.

He nodded, looking a little surer of himself now that he had her approval. 'I will.'

'Good.' She glanced at her watch; almost ten o'clock. She still had her report to write but she could work on it at home, to which end she began gathering her things. Andy got to his feet, picking up their empty cups. 'Thank you,' she said, somehow managing to convey the all the affection and gratitude she felt with those two little words. He smiled a little.

'See you tomorrow,' he said, glancing pointedly at the phone again before he left.

She looked at it too, tapping her fingernail against the tabletop contemplatively. Emily would most probably be in bed with New York three hours ahead but Ricky should still be up. She slipped the files into her briefcase and switched off the lamps before bringing his number up on her mobile. 'Hi, honey,' she said, pulling the door closed behind her and raising a hand in farewell to the others as she headed towards the exit, catching Andy's eye last. 'No no, nothing's wrong, I just… wanted to hear your voice…'

AN: Okay, so it turns out that extreme impatience can be very motivating when it comes to writing - still four days till episode 3.7 darn it. No romantic ponderings from Shandy in this instalment, it was just too sad an episode for that (although you've got to love Flynn's 'in case you need me'!), hopefully you still liked it though. Thanks for reading, and thanks to all the lovely people leaving feedback on this story - loves you!

16.10.14