A/N: we're getting there, folks! There are only three chapters to go! Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed. Keep 'em coming, reviews are my drug of choice. Next chapter should be up pretty quick. (Also do not fret; there will be more smut. I promise.) Much love xoxo

Lieutenant L. Provenza

Provenza stared at the screen, dumbstruck, mouth agape.

Flynn was hugging Sharon Raydor.

Hugging.

Raydor.

Provenza sputtered, but no words would come out.

Provenza had never seen Flynn hug anyone before. Sure, Andy was always game to go out with him when he wanted to pick up a couple of broads, but he wasn't one for big displays of affection.

Oh God, Provenza thought, He's got it bad.

Assistant Chief Will Pope

For the love of God, Pope thought, shaking his head, what the hell is wrong with these people? Can't anyone in this fucking building keep their pants zipped?

Although, if he was honest with himself, he was just the tiniest bit jealous. Raydor was a good-looking woman.

But Flynn seemed to genuinely care about her. He had jumped right out of his chair and run straight to her.

The last thing Pope wanted was to spend the rest of his day talking about Flynn and Raydor, but he couldn't see a way out of it. Maybe if he bolted, right now, just got in his car and turned his phone off, he wouldn't have to deal with it.

Captain Sharon Raydor

God forgive me, Sharon thought to herself as she cried in Andy's arms. It was all her fault. Her fault Jack was dead. Her fault Will Duncan was dead. Her fault Andy had been so distant these last few years.

But he's here now.

And here was where she'd wanted him to be, for longer than she cared to admit.

Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson

Brenda stared at the scene in horror. She wasn't very good with emotional things. She felt as if she were intruding somehow, even though it was Flynn who had stormed into the middle of her interview.

An interview that had damned Sharon Raydor, Brenda realized with dismay. Raydor had lied, several times. And more than that, she knew who the dead man was. Her motives were suspect. Depending on what Brenda learned from Duncan's brother-in-law, and what the D.A. said, Raydor could be in serious trouble. Go-to-jail-for-the-rest-of-her-life kind of trouble.

Holy shit.

Emma Raydor Ravera

Emma didn't know her way around the new police headquarters; her mother had insisted on keeping work and home separate. She never talked about her cases, she never brought files home, and she never, ever took the kids into the office.

But Emma had found that people were willing to help her, especially once she told them who her mother was. They seemed almost afraid of Sharon, and that both amused and concerned Emma. Her mother really wasn't a scary woman; sure, she tended towards sarcasm, and expected too much of people, but she wasn't scary. Sharon was kind. She loved her family, she loved her flowers, she smoked when she thought no one was looking. She was the one who kissed Emma's forehead when she was sad, who sang Emma to sleep at night when she was small, who held her close when she was scared and told her everything was going to be ok. There was nothing scary about that.

Chloe and Lily had chosen to stay at home with abuela. The police had finally finished going through their house, and the younger girls were more concerned about going home than they were about their mother. They trusted that everything was all right, that Sharon would be home soon. Emma wasn't so sure. She'd seen the note her mother had left on abuela's door: Gone to work, need to talk to them about something, be back as soon as I can. I love all of you.

Emma was worried. You couldn't just shoot someone and get away with it, even if you were a cop. That was Sharon's job, wasn't it? Making sure that everyone, even cops, were brought to justice? Emma didn't know who that man was, but she wasn't sure she believed her mother when she said she didn't know, either. Emma just wanted to see her, to hear her say that everything was ok.

And her little brother wanted to see Sharon, too. He was only four (almost five, he'd always correct her) and he didn't understand what had happened. He did understand not seeing his mother when they came back from breakfast, though, and he'd gotten scared. When Tommy got scared, he seemed to regress back to his two-year-old self. Full sentences were forgotten in favor of tearful cries of want Mommy! Want Mommy! And Emma didn't blame him. She wanted her Mommy, too.

So she went back to the house with everyone else, changed her clothes, strapped Tommy into the backseat of her car, and headed for the police station.

Now that they were there, he clung to her hand, staring around with wide eyes. Tommy loved police officers. He loved passing the black-and-whites when they were driving somewhere. He cackled with delight when he heard sirens. But little boys are supposed to be enamored with policemen and firemen and soldiers. Little boys don't know what it really means to be one of those people. How much it can hurt.

Emma found her way to the Major Crimes department, growing more and more uneasy with each passing moment. As she walked into the big open room, she was disappointed; the room was both unremarkable, and empty. There were desks scattered around, and a white board in the front of the room. A board covered in notes, and photos. Photos of her house. Photos of the dead man.

Emma steered Tommy away from the board, not wanting him to see the pictures. There had to be someone around here she could talk to. Somewhere.

She was saved any further exploration by the sound of approaching feet from behind her. She tugged Tommy out of the way, and watched as a long line of men walked right past her, not speaking to each other, finding their desks and sitting down. They all seemed to be studying their shoes.

Emma sort of recognized them from the night before, when they'd shown up at her house. Was that really only last night? She thought sadly. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Which was probably for the best. She wanted as much distance between herself and the events of the last twenty-four hours as possible.

"Can I help you?" one of the detectives asked her, finally noticing she was there. She remembered him; he was nice. His name was… she fished around in her mind. It would come to her.

"I'm looking for my mom. Sharon Raydor," Emma said.

Sergeant Gabriel (that was his name: Gabriel) stared at her.

"She's still here, isn't she?" Emma asked, suddenly nervous. Tommy answered her question before Gabriel could, however. He wrenched his hand free from Emma's and took off running.

Sharon was standing in the doorway, her eyes puffy, like she'd been crying. Emma noticed her Uncle Andy standing close by, and felt a surge of relief. She was glad her mother had a friend around her today.

"Mommy!" Emma's little brother squealed, and Sharon smiled as she lifted him into her arms and held him close.

Emma approached and before she could say anything, her mother had reached out with her free arm and tugged Emma close, kissing her cheek. Emma was content to stand there for a moment, needing just her mother's presence to let her know everything was going to be all right. Emma had almost forgotten she was pissed at Sharon. Almost.

" 'Scuse me, Captain," Emma heard that blonde Chief drawl nearby. Sharon let Emma go, and turned to face the woman with Tommy still in her arms.

"I hate to interrupt, but we still have some things to discuss."

Sharon nodded, though her shoulders sagged. Emma had never seen her mother looking so defeated. It scared her.

The Chief opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could the bald-headed Lieutenant appeared with an angry looking man in tow, and all hell broke loose.

"You fucking bitch!" the man screamed, lunging at Sharon. She clutched Tommy close and backed away, but she didn't need to worry. There wasn't enough time for Emma to let out a terrified cry before her Uncle Andy grabbed the man around the middle and slung him back against the wall, his head banging off the plaster as Andy pinned him there while he fumbled for his handcuffs.

"Don't move, asshole," Andy growled in the man's ear.

This was a bad idea, Emma realized. She never should have come.