A/N: If you've never heard of hospital psychosis, take it from me: it's very real and it can be disturbing to watch. I've seen it. However, things lighten up a little, here. Please R&R! It really helps!

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

Chapter 10: Better Days

With a little advice from Andy, Sharon's children managed to talk their aunt out of bringing their grandparents to Los Angeles until Sharon was out of the Neuro ICU. Even if, mentally, she wasn't completely back, at least she'd look more like herself.

Andy was concerned, though. Sharon was talking a little more, but mostly one word at a time, and she still didn't really recognize him or the kids. And her frustration with her limitations still erupted into temper fits, which resulted in her throwing something or worse, banging her hands against the bed rails. The nursing staff still had her in soft restraints about half the time, mostly to keep her from hurting her hands. She had been moved to the step-down unit, and had been assessed by the occupational therapist, who said it was still too soon to tell about her recovery, that the sedation had obviously really thrown her.

"They call it hospital psychosis," the therapist told Andy and the kids. "It's most common in older people, but can happen to anyone, especially people who have been in the ICU for a while, and under sedation, and with head injuries. Those factors don't usually come into play with the elderly, but with younger people, those are often the kinds of precipitating events you see with this."

"What is it, exactly?" Andy asked.

"It's sort of a catch-all term for a number of things, including physical, emotional and mental factors. Mostly, it's a dissociation from reality, and can include hallucinations, amnesia, time regression – all kinds of things. What you need to remember is that even though something may seem completely outrageous to you, to the patient, it is absolutely real. Trying to argue them out of it causes more frustration and even fear. This is a real experience for them. It is happening in the here and now. So reassurance is the best response. She sees flowers coming out of the wall, tell her they won't hurt her. That kind of thing. Right now, we need to get past the transient mutism and find out exactly how oriented she is. But she's been in the hospital a while and that plays havoc with the sleep-wake cycles, and the natural chemical composition of the brain because she's not getting the day-night light cues, so I'm not sure what we're going to get once she really starts talking again."

Matt said, "So what do we do?"

"Keep her engaged as much as you can. I know the restraints are distressing to all of you, but keep reassuring her that they will come off once she's calm and stops trying to injure herself. But let me stress how often this happens. I know it's like she's an alien to you, but this is not a rare manifestation. It's very common. We see it every day, and in 99 percent of the cases, it passes, and the person regains his or her full cognitive ability."

Andy sighed. "Well, that's something, at least."

"It is," the therapist said. "And I know how wearing – how wearying this is for people who love her. But hang in there with her. She will get better. Does she like music?"

"Loves it," Rosalind said. "Why?"

"Let me call a colleague of mine who's a music therapist. They tend to have a lot of success with patients like your mom. Music sometimes does what nothing else can. It accesses a part of the brain that other therapies don't. I'll give her a call and she can visit your mom."

"Sounds good," Matt answered.

"O.K. Stay with her. You may not think she needs you now, but she really does." The woman shook hands with them and left the consulting room.

Rosalind sighed sadly. "I guess it's wait and see. Still."

Andy gave her a shoulder hug. "Hang in there, kid. You guys are doing great."

She smiled at him and looked very like her mother. "Andy, I don't know what we'd have done without you. You've just been a rock."

He ruffled her hair in reply.

"You want to go see Mom this time?" Matt said. "We were in there last time." Even though they could see Sharon any time now that she was out of the ICU, they took turns, so they wouldn't overwhelm her.

"Yeah, I'll go in." Andy went to Sharon's room and peeked around the door. The nurses had the bed back raised so she could watch television, but Sharon was just staring into space, her hands restrained. Andy could see tears on her face. His heart broke for her. Restrained and crying, she couldn't even wipe her own tears away.

He went into her room and wiped her face with tissues. "I'm so sorry you're crying, babe," he said. He loosed her restraints and lowered the bed rail on her right side. He sat on the bed and gathered her into his arms, as gently as he knew how. Sharon put her arms around him and sobbed wordlessly. Andy stroked and kissed her hair and murmured soothingly to her. When her tears subsided, he again helped her wipe her tears and said, "I love you Sharon."

The look she gave him was questioning. She shook her head. "No. Don't know," she said.

"It's O.K. You don't remember me right now. Do you trust me?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"That's all we need then." He put his arm around her shoulder and she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. She sighed. Andy leaned back against the bed and she leaned with him, cuddled to his side, her head still on his chest. In a very few minutes, he knew she was asleep, and he kissed the top of her head.

When Andy hadn't come back in several minutes, Rosalind went to check on her mom. She looked into the room and saw Andy reclined on the bed, her mom snuggled to him as naturally as if they slept that way every night. He saw her in the doorway and raised his finger to his lips. Rosalind nodded and crept into the room. As Andy looked at Sharon, Rosalind saw the expression on his face. It was possessive, protective, loving, patient. She smiled at him and he returned it. Rosalind motioned to the nurse and pointed to the room. The nurse looked in, then shook her head. In the hall, she said, "Every case is different. There's a fundamental trust there, and she may not remember who the lieutenant is right this minute, but she knows she can trust him. It's a good start."

Andy was at his desk, running down financials on a suspect when his cell rang. It was Matt. He answered it. "Hey, Matt. What's up?"

"You know Gina, Mom's occupational therapist and how she said the transient mutism would probably just go away?"

"Yeah," Andy answered. If it had disappeared, this was good news, but Matt didn't sound happy.

"Well, it's gone. But there's a problem."

"What's that?"

"Mom didn't recognize us. She said her children aren't as old as we are. She thinks it's like 1995 or something, and she's still a sergeant with the LAPD."

Andy's eyes widened. "Really? That's weird."

"Yeah, I guess it's what Gina called the 'time regression' thing. She and her music therapist friend are coming by this afternoon. She also had her first physical therapy session today. She couldn't walk right away and it really pissed her off. Andy, what are we gonna do?"

"Day at a time, is all I can tell you, man. Nothing else we can do."

Matt sighed. "I guess you're right. We'll see you tonight."

"I'll be there," Andy answered. He hung up and sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought.

"What's up? How's the Captain?" Tao asked.

"Improving physically. Mentally? Not so much," Andy answered. "She thinks it's 1995 or so, and she doesn't recognize the kids. It's hard for them."

"Wow," Tao said. "That is really tough."

"And I don't know what the kids are gonna do when she gets to go home. She'll need somebody with her and the family will have to hire someone. Sharon's sister is busy with their parents."

Sanchez turned around. "Hey Flynn, you know my cousin Magda is a nurse, didn't you?"

"Had no idea, Julio."

"She is. And she does home care. She's between jobs right now and she'd love something full time. Want me to give her a call?"

"That would be great, Julio. Thanks. I'll tell the kids this evening."

When Andy got to the step-down unit, and neared her room, he heard Sharon's throaty laughter. It was the most wonderful sound in the world. Maybe she was back to herself. He looked around the door. She was talking to a nurse, and laughed. "Hi Sharon," he said.

She looked at him, puzzled. "I should know you," she answered, not a trace of the former hesitation in her voice. Well, Gina had said the mutism would probably disappear all at once.

"I'm Andy," he said.

"Andy? Sounds so familiar."

"I'm with the LAPD," he answered, his heart sinking.

She smiled. "So am I! Is that where I know you from? But wait, you've been here, in my room, before, haven't you? You act as if we know each other very well."

"We do." The nurse left the room, an understanding look on her face. Andy went to Sharon's bedside and continued. "Before your accident, we were dating."

"Surely not," she said.

"Why do you think that?"

She smiled archly at him. "Because I know I'd remember dating you! I don't think I could forget that!"

Andy chuckled. Nice to know she still liked him. "You're a hoot, you know it? But, yeah. We were dating."

"Please refresh my memory. What kind of accident was I in?"

"A car wreck. Drunk driver hit you from behind and pushed you into the intersection and you were T-boned on the passenger side."

"Wow. Sounds like I'm lucky to be here," she said.

"You are, and we're grateful to have you here," Andy answered.

"What a sweet thing to say!" Sharon exclaimed. "But I can tell you're a sweetheart, anyway."

Andy chuckled at that statement. Although, he had to admit, it was kind of nice to get a sort of do-over with Sharon, without all the bad stuff in the past, and no preconceived notions.

"How do I look?" she said, anxiously.

"Beautiful," he answered.

"I know better than that. I've been in a wreck! So I know I look awful."

Andy sat down and took her hand. "You're a beautiful woman, Sharon Raydor. Don't ever forget it."

"Sweet and charming. Are you sure we're dating?"

"Positive," he answered with a smile.

The nurse came back in the room and said, "Flynn, would you like to take Ms. Raydor outside on the terrace while it's still daylight? She could use a little sunshine, I know."

"I'd love to. Can you get her into a wheelchair?"

"Sure can," the nurse said and brought a chair in. Andy helped Sharon put on a robe and he and the nurse assisted her to the wheelchair. It was an uncomfortable process, considering her internal injuries, but, as the nurse said, bedsores were even less fun.

"I can't go out like this," Sharon fretted. "Could someone at least brush my hair?"

"Sure, babe," Andy answered and rummaged through the bag Rosalind packed for her until he found her hairbrush. He remembered the day before the accident, he had brushed his own hair with it. Had that really been three weeks ago? He shook off his reverie and carefully brushed Sharon's thick hair. He brushed part of it over the bare spot where her head had been shaved. "There you go. Feel better?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Andy."

"You're welcome, Sharon."

As he wheeled her outside to the terrace on an upper floor, she looked around. "I don't remember the hospital having this before."

"Maybe it's new. USC is a huge place. Maybe you just never ran across it."

"Could be," she answered, and looked around her. "It's good to see the sun, even the sunset. I don't think I've been out in it very much, have I?"

"No, your accident was three weeks ago, so you've been pretty much inside."

Sharon gazed at the sunset for several minutes. "I feel strange," she said.

"Strange? Strange how," Andy replied, concerned.

"Strange, as though there's a whole other life I don't remember. But I don't believe in that kind of thing."

"Me either."

"And who were those young people? Nice enough, but they said they were my children! That can't be. Matt is only eight and Rosie's six! I haven't seen them, by the way. Can I see them yet? I know children aren't usually allowed on these units, but I really miss them so much."

Andy sighed. How in God's name was he supposed to deal with this? Gina had said play along, but Sharon wanted to see her children. She was a mom, after all. So, he made an executive decision. "Sharon, babe, do you know what year it is?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? It's 1995, of course! I'm not crazy or anything."

He smiled. "No, you're not crazy at all. You're a little, um, mixed up though. A little confused." He sat where he could take her hands.

"Confused? It's not 1995?"

Andy shook his head. "No, hon, it's not. Let me explain. You were under heavy sedation for several days. You've had a head injury. I know they've told you all this, but all that medication, plus what they gave you for pain, and being in the ICU all that time, it can, well, mess with your brain chemistry, and things may seem different from how they really are. But I know it seems really real to you, though. And you're not crazy. I just want to say that again."

Sharon looked at Andy, a little fear in her face. "What are you saying, Andy?"

He bit his lip. "I'm saying, Sharon, that your memory has been a little affected by the accident, and your injury and the meds and all. It's temporary, and you're fine. You're just a little mixed up."

"If it's not 1995, then what year is it?"

Andy took a deep breath. "Please don't freak out, babe. You've only been out of it about three weeks. It's 2011."

Sharon's expression shattered. "No. No, no, no. No. That can't be. It can't be! I know it can't be. Not possible. I am not crazy, Andy!"

"No, you're not. You're fine. You're sane and mostly in your right mind. This is what Gina called 'time regression.' It's normal, all right? You're normal."

"You mean to tell me I've missed my children's school years, their graduations, all the important events in their lives?" She was on the verge of tears. "Because none of it is here!"

Andy took her hands. "It's all there, babe. I promise it is. It's just not – accessible – right now. You just can't get to it. But all those beautiful memories are right where they've always been. You were there for all those important times."

Sharon was silent for so long that Andy wondered if the mutism was reasserting itself. Finally, she said, "The concept makes my head ache, Andy."

"Mine too," he answered.

"The doctor said I had a lot of internal injuries."

"Yeah. You did. Whole laundry list."

She sighed. "No wonder I get so worn out so easily. I could hardly stand up when the physical therapist came in."

Andy kissed Sharon's hands. "You've been through a hell of a lot the past three weeks. Don't push it too much."

"What's next? Do you know? Can you tell me?" Sharon asked him.

"Well, as I understand it, you'll have physical and occupational therapy until you're well enough to leave the hospital, and then you'll be in rehab for a few weeks, getting back to where you can walk easily. Your hip was broken."

"Yeah, they told me. I guess I don't need to go back to work until I actually remember everything I'm supposed to be doing, but I'm certainly getting tired of being in the hospital."

"I can imagine," Andy said.

Sharon looked keenly at Andy. "How do I really look? Really?"

"You're beautiful. I told you. You're alive and you're beautiful."

"My head feels like it was used for a Raiders scrimmage game."

Andy chuckled. "No surprise there."

"Andy, do I look awful?"

"No. Especially not considering how you looked three weeks ago. Nearly took me to my knees. But your bruises are starting to fade, your face isn't swollen anymore and I'm assuming they finally got all the betadine scrubbed off from where they pinned your hip. You've got some scabs from flying glass, but no bad cuts. And your lip is healing up from where you probably bit it. So you're definitely on the mend."

Sharon smiled tremulously at him. "How did we start dating?"

"I asked you out for New Year's Eve. We went on a dinner cruise out of Marina Del Rey."

"I hope that memory comes back. That sounds wonderful."

Andy smiled. "We had a great time. I took you to breakfast the next morning. It was a fantastic day."

"Sounds like it." She looked away for a moment, then looked into Andy's eyes. They were so very dark and soft. "Have we, I mean, you know..." her voice trailed off.

He nodded. "Yeah. Are you O.K. with that?"

"I am. I suppose I shouldn't really be, but I am. Since I'm having to take your word for everything about us – about me. I shouldn't be O.K. with it, considering you're a stranger to me right now. But I am."

"I think that's because your brain knows enough to realize I'm all right."

"While we're up here alone, Andy, could you – would you kiss me?"

He grinned at her. "I'm afraid your lip will be a little too sore."

"Try it? Please? Maybe it'll jog something."

"Well, one thing I didn't know about you is what a flirt you can be." He leaned over the arm of the wheelchair and softly kissed her lips.

Sharon inhaled at the sensation. It was as if she had never been kissed before. She reached to stroke Andy's cheek and even though she couldn't recall Andy in her conscious memory, his scent, his taste, the feel of his skin, were all tantalizingly familiar. Something in her psyche recognized Andy and her blood quickened, in spite of her physical condition. As Andy tenderly broke the kiss, she whispered, "So do I always want to take your clothes off?"

He nodded. "Pretty much. And the feeling's mutual." He trailed one finger carefully down her cheek.

"I really want my memory back of our times together, Andy."

"It'll come, Sharon. It just takes time. But we've got plenty of that."

"Are you sure, Andy? Will I still have a job when I get better?"

"I'm sure, Sharon. Your division couldn't get along without you." He had, in fact, had Brenda grill Will Pope pretty thoroughly on the subject, and had Pope's assurance that Sharon's job would be waiting on her when she was able to return. Pope had decided he'd rather deal with Brenda's queries than a pissed-off Andy Flynn. Flynn, he knew, was quite capable of dragging him to his window and throwing him out of it, if he felt Sharon (or Brenda, for that matter) was being mistreated by the department. He'd seen what Andy had done to Bob Harris while bleeding from serious stab wounds. He could only imagine what the healthy version would do to him.

"That does make me feel better. I've been concerned," Sharon replied.

Andy took her hands in both of his. "Don't you concern yourself about anything except getting better. I'm taking care of you."

"I can tell you are. It's comforting to know someone is."

"Well, I am. And it's getting a little cool, so it's time to go back inside."

"I guess so. I hate it. The air feels so good."

"I'll bring you back outside anytime, as long as the nurses say it's O.K." As they made the trip back to her room, Andy said, "The nurses tell me you haven't been eating well. What's up?"

"Not really hungry. Nothing really looks appealing."

"Well, hospital food isn't wonderful, I'll grant you. So what does sound good? What could you eat that would taste good to you? If you'll eat it, I'll bring it to you."

Sharon thought a moment. "Why does eggs benedict sound so good?"

Andy grinned. "Because you like it. And I know the best place in town to find it. I'll bring it for your breakfast tomorrow, all right?"

"All right. That sounds really good to me."

"Great." He briefly left Sharon's room so he wouldn't be in the way while the nurses got her back in bed and comfortable. But he came back and said, "Babe, Matt and Rosalind would really like to see you. Think you can handle it?"

She looked anxious but said, "Yes. I need to get used to the idea that I have grown children, as odd as it seems.

Andy motioned the kids in from where they had been waiting and they came in to see their mom. She looked at each of them. "I can't believe you're adults. Andy said I was at your graduations and the milestone events. Was I? Really?"

Matt took his mother's hand. "Yeah, mom, you were. Why don't I bring a couple of photo albums from home and we can look at them?"

"I'd like that. Thank you. And Rosie. You're so beautiful!"

"Thanks mom," Rosalind answered.

"She looks just like her mom," Andy said. "I'll leave for a while and let you all talk. I'll be back in a little while." He went down to the snack bar for a diet soda and a pack of peanuts. It had been a long day.

When he went back upstairs, he could hear Sharon and the kids laughing. It was absolute music to his ears. It could only help her recovery along, as far as he was concerned.

Matt and Rosalind were saying their good nights and he spoke to them too, telling them to be careful as they drove home.

"Ten minutes, Flynn," Sharon's nurse said from the nurses' station.

"O.K. I'll obey the rules," he answered. He went into her room and said, "They're gonna kick me out in ten minutes, but I wanted to say good night."

"I'm glad you came back up. I have such wonderful children, don't I, Andy?"

"Yeah, you do. You being a great mom has something to do with it, too."

"Thank you. Andy, will you kiss me one more time?"

He gave her a roguish smile and said, "I've created a monster."

"Maybe a little," she admitted.

He leaned over again and kissed her gently, so as not to hurt her bottom lip. Sharon brought her hands up to his hair and stroked through it. "I'm waiting until you can kiss me like I want you to," she said.

"One day at a time," was his answer, whispered against her lips.

His apartment didn't seem quite as lonely when he went home.