A/N: We get some plot development, and even a little goodness, for those who were looking for a little! LOL. Thanks to all you faithful reviewers, and to those to set the story as a favorite, or for an alert. I'd love to see reviews from you, too! :) So, please, enjoy and R&R!

Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Closer."

Chapter 4: Breathing Room

When Sharon and Andy got home with Rosie, she led Andy to her room. "Mom, I need to talk to him for a minute, O.K.?"

"Sure, sweetheart. I'll just get your car keys from the officer who drove your car over here." She went outside.

Rosie sat down on her bed and Andy sat in the little vanity chair, hoping his 200-pound frame wasn't too much for it. Rosie took Andy's hands. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome, Rosie. Didn't you know I'd roll out as quick for you as I would for your Mom?"

She nodded. "I knew that. I probably shouldn't have called you Daddy, though."

Andy smiled. "Why is that?"

"You didn't mind?"

He shook his head. "No. It's been a long time since anybody's referred to me as anything like that. My own kids call me by my first name, thanks to their mom's influence."

Rosie's face was sad. "That's awful. They missed having such a great dad, too."

"Price I paid for swimming around at the bottom of a bottle."

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine why their mom has never been able to see how much your sobriety means to you. You know, my biological father has paid the child support mostly on time, but all Matt and I ever really were to him was a tax deduction. Since you and Mom started seeing each other, you've been way more of a dad to me than he ever was. Do you remember that day when she had the wreck and you came to the hospital? I sat down beside you in the waiting room, and you put your arm around my shoulders. You didn't think about it, or question. You just did it. You were there for us and for Mom, every step of the way. How many times did you leave work and come to the hospital, just to see if you could get Mom calmed down? How many times did we sit in the waiting area and you held me when I cried? Or when you sat with us here at the house, or in the break room at the station? And it wasn't just for Mom. It was for us, too. I can't forget that, and I won't. You're my dad, now. The closest thing I've ever had to one. I've had to catch myself to not say it, in fact."

At this, Andy felt a lot like bawling like a three-year-old. He wiped his nose instead, and sniffed loudly. But his eyes were moist, and Rosie could see it. He got up and drew Rosie up into his arms for a hug. "You call me dad anytime you feel like it, Rosie, sweetheart. I'd be honored for you to."

"Thank you. Thank you for everything – Dad," she answered.

Andy kissed the top of her head and said, "You're welcome, Rosie. Let me go check in with the Chief, O.K.?"

"O.K.," she said.

With another squeeze, Andy went out to his car, where the tears could flow freely, and unseen.

Sharon came into the room. Rosie was wiping her eyes. "What's up, honey?" she said.

"Well, I just kind of told Andy how much I cared about him and that for all practical purposes, he's my dad. And he said I could call him Dad."

Sharon sat down beside her daughter and hugged her. "I'm so glad, Rosie. I'm so glad you two have such a wonderful bond. It's such a blessing."

"Yeah, it is. And I'm so glad you two finally got together. He's wonderful, isn't he?"

Sharon grinned. "Yes, I have to say he is. But don't you ever tell him I said that. He and his ego can hardly get through the door at the same time, now."

Rosie giggled in spite of herself. "Well Mom, you have to say he has the right to an ego. Have you looked at the man lately?"

Her mother giggled, too. "I have to admit you have a point."

"So what now?" Rosie asked.

"About this nut?" Sharon shook her head. "I don't know. I know Andy's been worrying himself sick about it. He hasn't been sleeping very well. He says they're making progress, and they've got a description now, so it should make their job easier. I have to believe it will."

Her daughter nodded. "I hate this for him. I mean, it wasn't fun for me, but I know it's been just awful him. Didn't you say this is a cold case, reheated?"

"Yes. I knew Andy kept the evidence folder in his desk. I just hoped Red Hunter would never surface again. And with this federal lawsuit against Brenda, it's been chaos around there. Peter Goldman is going to drive me to drink, I swear."

"Have you found the leak yet?"

Sharon shook her head. "No, but I have my suspicions about who it is. Brenda isn't going to like it, either. If it's who I think it is, she's going to see it as a betrayal of monumental proportions. I can tell you it's not Andy, obviously, and it's not Detective Sanchez."

Rosie's eyebrows went up. "Wow. Honestly mom, I wouldn't want your job for all the gold in Fort Knox!"

"There are days when I don't want it!" Sharon replied. She put her arm around Rosie. "I'm just so thankful you're all right."

"Me too. But I'd have thrown everything in my place at that creep if he'd made it inside. I'm your daughter, remember."

Sharon smiled. "Am I that tough?"

"You can be. But you were behind An- behind Dad when he came flying up the sidewalk. You didn't see the expression on his face. He looked like he was ready to take on hell and the apocalypse."

"He was. It's a good thing for all of us that nut left. If Andy had found him, he'd have taken him apart the hard way. I saw what he did to dead Bob Harris, and with two stab wounds, yet. Andy had already beaten the hell out of the guy when he shot him. When I saw the morgue photos, my jaw dropped. He looked like he'd been jumped by a gang. But Andy did all that damage, single-handedly. It was unbelievable."

Rosie whistled low. "I had no idea. That must have been one more fight. Aren't you glad he's one of the good guys?"

Her mother nodded. "Profoundly so. Can you imagine the kind of crap he'd be capable of stirring up, otherwise?" She snickered. "We probably need to get back, but this place will be covered up with uniforms, so you don't have to worry. But you can go back with us, if it would make you feel better."

"I'm OK here, Mom."

"All right, but if you decide to go anywhere, get an officer to escort you."

"Sure thing."

Sharon hugged and kissed her daughter and went into the den, where she spoke to the officer in charge. She heard a commotion outside and went to see what was going on. She saw Andy, who had Peter Goldman, of all people, backed up against his car. Andy was yelling at the top of his lungs at the attorney, who at least had the good sense to look terrified.

"Listen here, you worthless piece of crap," Andy screamed. "My stepdaughter was threatened today by a serial killer! You're damn right she gets police protection! Police protection is for innocent people who are being threatened, not for thug gangster boys who as good as kill their twin brother and two friends, who served honorably in armed conflict for the country that guarantees little assholes like you the right to breathe free air!"

"You and Captain Raydor. Isn't that a conflict of interest? She's Internal Affairs, Lieutenant."

"Not that it's any of your business, Goldman, but if an FID case opens on me, Hollywood Division will handle it. Not Captain Raydor. And my personal life is sure as hell none of your damn business!"

"It is if it interferes with you being an accountable public servant."

Sharon couldn't believe Goldman. He was either the bravest man she knew, or the most idiotic, to mouth off to Andy Flynn, who was in a towering rage.

"I don't know where you're getting your information," Andy's voice had grown eerily soft. Goldman had better be careful, Sharon thought. It was when Andy stopped yelling that you were in real trouble. "But you had sure as hell better watch it. I've got a serial killer with eleven victims under his belt, and he was threatening to make my stepdaughter number twelve. Short of catching this asshole, nothing would make my day more than to slap cuffs on you for interfering with a murder investigation and hindering prosecution. How do you think that would play in front of a federal judge? Federal judges don't like attorneys subverting the cause of justice for their own gain. And you've got a hell of a lot to gain from the publicity surrounding your little case. I've been wondering why you picked the Chief. It's been eating at me. Well, I've been a cop for 25 years and I may not be the Chief, but I'm pretty good at putting puzzles together myself." Here, he leaned into Goldman's face.

"You're looking to make a name for yourself. You think you're the next F. Lee Bailey or some shit like that, don't you? You've got dollar signs in your eyes, you little prick," Andy growled. "You're banking on making the talk show rounds and shilling for your best-selling book on how you saved the California legal system from people like Chief Johnson. Yeah, look scared. You should be scared. I'm on to you now. And you'd better stay away from my crime scenes, my suspects, and damn sure, my family. A no-contact order is in your future, otherwise. And one more thing, you piece of shit. You'd better be damn certain your finances are in order. I'd love to sicc the IRS on your ass."

"That sounds like a threat, Lieutenant," Goldman said, but weakly.

"It's not a threat. What's the matter? Your accounting couldn't stand up to a nice, thorough audit? It's just some friendly advice."

At this point, Goldman looked ready to wet his pants and Sharon decided it was time for her to step in. "Mr. Goldman, I think Lieutenant Flynn has admirably expressed his feelings on this subject, and mine as well. Obviously, diplomacy and tact are a complete waste of time with you, so it's probably good that the Lieutenant made the situation so clear, in his own, inimitable way. So, just to recap, stay the hell away from the LAPD and LAPD family members and their homes. And tell your little bird, who, no doubt, tipped you off to the fact that the Lieutenant and I are married, that he – or she – is treading on very thin ice."

"Marriage licenses are public record, Captain. You know that."

Sharon's tone went from merely cool to frigid. "I do know that, Mr. Goldman. And I also know someone had to tell you one existed. You have a lovely day, now. Buh-bye."

With Sharon Raydor staring holes through him with those piercing green eyes, and Andy Flynn looking like he would take pleasure in dismembering him, suddenly Peter Goldman thought being an attorney wasn't so much fun, after all. He left.

Sharon turned to her husband. "God, Andy. Don't hold back the next time!" she exclaimed, but her eyes were twinkling.

Andy shook his head, and went around to the driver's side of his car, uttering epithets for Peter Goldman that were as obscene as they were descriptive.

"Gracious, Andy. That's foul, even coming from you," Sharon snickered. "Even you don't engage in that kind of locker room talk too often."

"And I'm just getting started," he muttered.

"My ears will be crispy by the time we get back downtown."

"Then turn on your iPod," was the answer she got, to her intense amusement.

"How's Rosie?" was Brenda's first question when Andy got back to the murder room.

"She's fine, Chief. Thanks. And her description matches the photos from the motel, and Hunter's photo from Arizona." He looked around. "Where is the note he left?"

Tao said, "We sent it to SID. We can look at it later, but since it hadn't been handled as much, maybe we can get fingerprints."

"Any luck on the truck he was driving?" Andy asked of the room at large.

Sanchez shook his head. "Still looking, Lieutenant. I may have a bead on where Hunter works, though. Talked to a few people on the Strip, showed his photo around, and two guys told me they thought he worked washing dishes for this noodle shop. I looked around, but they were closed. They don't open until five, so I'll go back then."

"Thanks, Julio," Andy answered.

"And, Andy, the geolocation protocol is finally finished. We've got four potential hotspots as far as areas where Hunter lives."

"That's great, Mike. Maybe we can start narrowing those down tomorrow. O.K., Chief?"

"Sounds good to me, Lieutenant. This is your investigation."

"Is Mr. Hammonds safe with the Fibbies?"

Brenda nodded. "Oh yes. They took him away a couple of hours ago."

Andy nodded and stared at the murder board. He narrowed his eyes. "We probably need to keep all these no-tell motels around the Strip under some surveillance. Now that Hunter's accomplice has been arrested, he may change locations. Hollywood Division will be glad to help us with that, since this is in their territory. Captain Marshall has already told me they'll do whatever they can to assist. I'll call him and ask him about it, and to do some checking on the front desk employees. Hunter wants people he can scare into helping him. We just didn't work together ten years ago like we needed to. Too much crap because of Rampart and too many politicians trying to get ahead." Brenda knew Andy was referring to Will Pope, but she didn't take offense. Pope was a political creature, and there was no use trying to pretend otherwise.

About that time, Commander Taylor came into the murder room, a woman following him. "Chief Johnson, glad you're in here. This is Rachel Gracey with The Times. She'd like to talk to you and your division about the Red Hunter case. Ms. Gracey, Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson."

Brenda shot Taylor a killing look, but her manners didn't desert her. "Ms. Gracey, it's a pleasure to meet you. All right, folks, introduce yourselves. Commander, can I have just a brief word with you in my office?"

"Certainly, Chief," the Commander said.

In Brenda's office, she smacked her desk. "Commander! What is a member of the media doing on this case? I thought we agreed to keep this quiet!"

"Not my fault, Chief Johnson," Taylor replied. "She went to Chief Pope. She's actually a real journalist. Not at all like our friend Ramos. She was a cub reporter when the murders started ten years ago and she's followed the case ever since. She checks the police reports, which are public record, remember, Chief, and she's put two and two together. I think if we give her a chance, she can help us out, and maybe you as well, Chief Johnson.

"How's that, Commander?"

"She hates Peter Goldman's ever-loving guts. She says he's hardly the crusader for truth, justice and the American Way he seems to be. She's been looking down his back trail. Apparently, he has a history of pulling this kind of crap on high-ranking law enforcement officers. Only, he's never had a case go this far before. I think we have someone on our side, for a change. Objective, but sympathetic."

Brenda looked into the murder room where she saw the woman closely perusing the murder board. Her features lit up with interest. "You may be right, Commander, especially in light of something Lieutenant Flynn told me on the phone on his way back here."

"What's that?"

"If you can believe it, Goldman showed up at their house, while they were getting Captain Raydor's daughter settled in. And Lieutenant Flynn, well, according to Captain Raydor, whom I also spoke with, he was not happy. And we all know what happens then."

Taylor chuckled appreciatively. He had known Andy for 15 years. "I can imagine. So after Andy finished handing Goldman's balls to him in a little box, what happened?"

Brenda giggled. "Well, he told Mr. Goldman that he knew he was doing this for the possible recognition and prestige. For the money, in other words. And doesn't it always come down to money? Oh, and Andy also told Goldman he would be happy to contact the IRS for him, just to give his books a thorough audit." She grinned evilly.

Taylor shook his head. "Andy's only gotten more diabolical over the years. And he always has had the ability to be a scary SOB whenever he feels like it. He usually settles for cynical, but the scary part is still there."

Brenda nodded. "No doubt. Sharon said Goldman looked like he was about to wet himself."

Commander Taylor laughed heartily at this. "I've seen that reaction before when Andy was really, really pissed."

"Well, let's see what this reporter has to say," Brenda said. "Of course, you know I can't say anything about my case."

"I know. But your squad can comment on it all they want to."

"True."

Brenda went back into the murder room and said, "Well, Ms. Gracey, we're glad to have you here with us. Commander Taylor tells me you've been interested in this case from the beginning."

"I have. And I've looked at everything available on public record, and I have to believe not catching this idiot was due to a lack of resources more than anything else. I want our readers to see how hard the LAPD worked on that case then, and how hard you all are working now."

"What about Ramos?" Sanchez said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "He should have gone to work for the National Enquirer. That, or gone back and re-taken that class in journalism ethics. They do exist and I deeply respect them."

"He must have been out sick for that class," Andy cracked.

"Undoubtedly," Rachel answered. "I was looking at your murder board, Chief Johnson. Your squad has done an impressive amount of work the past few days."

"Thank you. Lieutenant Flynn was the lead investigator then, so this is his case, really. But yes, this team has put in a lot of hours on this case."

"I can tell. Well, I know it's nearly time for everyone to go home for the day, so I'll get out of your hair. But I'm really looking forward to covering this story. I think at the end of it, our readers will have new respect for the work you do. Have a good evening." She left the room, and the crew looked at each other.

"Wow. I'm impressed," Tao said.

"Me too," Provenza agreed. "She actually acts like she's got some sense."

"Which is a relief," Brenda answered. "But she's right. We've gone about as far as we can today, so let's get on home and get some rest."

Dinner was over, Rosie had gone to her room to study and the protection detail had changed shifts. Two K-9 officer units had taken over, since a dog could hear what a human couldn't and would alert immediately. In order to give Sharon and Andy some privacy, the officers had pitched a small tent in front of the walk and in the back yard, and would stay there through the night. If anyone approached the home, they would be warned immediately.

Andy and Sharon were sitting in bed, talking over the day and the case. Sharon put her book on the nightstand and snuggled to Andy's side. "Rosie told me about the talk you two had."

"I figured she would," he answered.

"She's crazy about you."

Andy smiled. "I like her pretty well, too. She's a great kid."

"Not so much a kid anymore, though."

"Guess not. Have you told Matt about all this?"

"Oh my, no," Sharon said. "He can't come down here right now, and he would just worry. He'll be here for Christmas and we'll tell him then. He's safe in Stanford, I think, so there's no point in saying anything as long as everything is O.K."

"Yeah." He took his reading glasses off and set them aside and rubbed his eyes. "Too much computer work today. It kills me."

"Necessary evil."

"No doubt," Andy said, "but it's still aggravating. Hey, if we were really quiet, you know, I'll bet we could find a way to relax." He caressed her shoulder.

Sharon naturally took his meaning and put her hand on his chest. "We might be able to get away with it. Rosie's on the other side of the house, and I know she's got her iPod blasting in her ears." She gave him a knowing grin.

Andy reached to turn the light on his side off, and he tipped Sharon's chin up and kissed her softly. "I say we give it a try."

"I like the way you think, Lieutenant."

"When I'm not being a pig, you mean," he teased.

"Oh, you're always a pig," she shot back.

"And you know you're the wicked witch of the LAPD." He kissed her again, this time pinning her to the mattress and making quick work of her short cotton nightgown and panties. He nuzzled in her hair and inhaled the fragrance of her perfume, now mostly faded, but still faint on her skin. He followed the scent down to her breasts and kissed between them, his big hands cupping and stroking them. "What do you want, babe?" he asked her.

"Everything," she purred.

"Tall order, gorgeous," Andy said against her skin.

"You're up to the job, big man. I have confidence in your abilities."

That got a chuckle, and he helped Sharon, as she hooked her thumbs in the waist of his shorts and started easing them off. He licked a slow trail up to her neck and then transferred his attention back to her breasts.

Sharon twitched and panted as Andy took a nipple in his mouth. She was trying to stay quiet, and whimpered softly. "Oh Andy, that feels so good," she whispered. His fingers were occupied in stroking her heat and Sharon could feel fire in every nerve ending. She lifted her hips and pushed on Andy's shoulders just a little. He knew from experience what that meant, since she was still a little shy about coming right out and asking him for it. So, he moved his mouth down her belly and taking little nips of skin on his way, made Sharon even hotter for him. As soon as his tongue touched her, she put her hand over her mouth and moaned softly.

"Is this what you want?"

"Yes, oh, you know it is, Andy."

He returned to the task at hand, and could feel Sharon moving underneath his touch. He was just glad she trusted him enough to allow him to do this for her. He loved doing it and she turned into a wild woman when he did.

Sharon couldn't help it. When Andy did this to her, she turned into a pool of needy goo. His mouth was so hot, so gentle, so good. He was just so good at this. At everything. He wasn't some kind of superman or anything, but he was completely tuned in to what she needed and wanted. Sharon could tell she was close and grabbed his pillow to muffle her cries. Andy's talented tongue and fingers were driving her to complete madness and as she climaxed, she felt like tearing the pillow apart. This was shortly followed by her feeling his body entering hers and she locked her hands underneath his shoulders, as she met his hips with hers.

Andy was losing himself in Sharon's body. Her heat, her wetness, her obvious desire for him, and only for him, was making him crazy. This was the LAPD ice princess. Her hair was a mess, her skin was flushed with passion and she was coming apart in his arms. It pushed him right over the edge and he found his release with a hoarse groan. He collapsed beside her and she pulled him to her.

Sharon loved Andy's body, every last inch of it, from his thick, silvery hair, to that delicious mat of hair on his chest, his long legs and beautiful male backside, right down to his big feet. And she loved the way it felt when he made love to her. He kissed her deeply again and whispered teasingly in her ear, "Next time I do that to you, I'm gonna make you come."

"You do that," she answered, with a soft chuckle.

As their breathing returned to normal and they cuddled, both welcomed the escape from the troubles of the world outside. Here, in their bedroom, in each other's arms, murder cases and greedy lawyers didn't exist. They were just Andy and Sharon, two people who loved each other.

Andy dropped Sharon's nightgown over her head and found his shorts from where they had landed. He lay back and Sharon turned out her light, leaving the room dark. She burrowed into the warmth of his side and said, "Think you can sleep, now? Think we're sufficiently relaxed?"

"I think so, yeah, maybe. But I might need a little extra relaxation in a couple of hours," he joked.

"Hah. We're old people, remember? We'll both be completely zonked out," she said tartly.

"A guy can dream, right?" His tone was light.

"Sure, you can always dream," Sharon answered with a laugh. Then, she pulled his mouth to hers again. "Good night, you husband, you. I love you."

"And I love you, Mrs. Flynn. Sweet dreams, babe."