The door slammed, Sharon jumped, the kids cried. That was the usual succession of events. Not tonight.
It was a fight they had over and over again. Their work had made it home, a promise they made to each other that they swore would never happen. It had come, it was there and Sharon was left, as always to clean up the mess.
It was a normal day, like no other. She had a pile or reports that she had to go through. The less meaningful complaints were set aside in my stack, phone calls would be placed – the other's that required her to leave her office and got the respective floor of the officer were set in another. The ones that had to have case files opened were small, but time consuming and those were left for lunchtime.
Her day was methodically planned out. Phones calls would take two hours, then the field trips would take another couple of hours, a little more if the officer was feeling a little testy and then she'd stop in the break room of her floor, grab a vending machine sandwich and go back to her office. With the promotion came the office, the office hadn't provided an amazing view, but she still got one of the city.
What brought her work home was the file for one Andrew Flynn. She rolled her eyes, pressed her fingers into her temples and wished away the headache that would come to her. Once again he was rough housing it with another cop. The cop who was punched filed the report, Flynn had also sent up a report, but not for the altercation. Her fingers itched to lift the phone, to call him and yell at him, but the time would come.
"Hey," he said hours later when he saw her in the hallway.
She had done everything in her power to ignore him. She was investigating him – she couldn't talk to him unless she had to. That's the part of her job that made life difficult. When she wanted to rant and rave about cases, she was bound by silence and bound by confidentiality. It shouldn't have surprised her that he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the nearest emptied room.
"Andy I can't right now," she said, trying to push him away as his lips traveled down her neck.
"I've missed you," he groaned into her neck.
"Andy I'm working," she sighed. When he didn't let up, she gave him a good shove, watching the disappointment flash behind his eyes.
"Since when has that stopped you from having a quickie?" The words left his mouth before his mind could catch up.
He was in trouble and he knew it by the way she spun around and stormed out of the room. By the time he stepped into the hallway, looking left before right, the click-clack of heels were already around the corner.
If they hadn't had sex that morning when they woke, again in the shower, and if he didn't have a quickie with her before she was completely dressed, she would have allowed it. Never mind, she corrected in her mind, she wouldn't have. It was different when they were at work. There was something about explicitly not bringing their home relationship into work that provided her a sense of comfort.
Andy Flynn had come to a full stop when he got back to the bullpen. His partner was giving him a slight headshake and the junior officers were doing everything in their power to not look at him. He took a look around and that's when he spotted it. The Commanding Officer was standing with Sharon, near his office, waiting for, what Andy could assume, was him.
When she saw him, she straightened and no one else but him saw the slight tap of her fingernail against the file. Then it hit him. He was being investigated. Again. It would explain why she refused him, why he hadn't heard from her all day.
"Captain," he nodded, stepping up to them. "Sir."
"Flynn," the CO said with a nod of his head. "Looks like you got yourself into some sort of trouble."
"Guess so sir," Andy shrugged. "Let's see what I did this time."
The formal charges would be conduct unbecoming of an officer. The recommended course of action would be an anger management course that would take place over the course of a week. Any other actions would be made by the Commanding Officer of the division prior to the closure of the case. The case would be closed when the course was completed; the officer in charge signed off, and an interview was conducted with the officer in question.
There was no suspension this time, for which he was grateful. The suspension wouldn't look great on his file, not that the handful of anger management classes looked great either. He figured he should just be grateful he didn't get suspended and take the offered day off.
That night, when Sharon turned the key in the door, she was met with a very angry looking Andy. He was sitting at the table with an opened bottle of Jack in front of him, a tumbler in front of him that was full to the brim. She watched from her spot at the door as he tossed it back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he poured another glass.
"Andy," she softly called out. She ran a hand across his shoulder and he shook her off.
"Fuck you," he said, taking the next shot.
She swallowed hard and moved to take the bottle away from him, only to have him standing up, the legs of his chair scrapping against the floor. It was enough to make her jump and enough of a hesitation to get the bottle himself. He took a drink right from the top.
"What is wrong with you?" Sharon snapped, watching as he rounded the table on shaky legs.
"You," he snapped easily. "You are what's wrong with me. You and your job."
Sharon looked taken back and then she schooled her features. She raised an eyebrow and flattened her fingers against the cool wood of her dining table. She tilted her head at him, looked to the bottle and then to the man in front of her.
"You're drunk," she stated.
"Hell yeah I am," he grinned around the mouth. "Can't deal with your bullshit rules without it."
"Andy," she sighed. "Put it down, let's get you some coffee."
She heard the low rumble of thunder outside and the room filled with a quick, sharp, bright light.
When he didn't move, she moved instead and went to the coffee machine, pressing the power button and was reaching up for a cup, when his hands settled on her hips. He knew her inside and out, physically and mentally. He knew what turned her on, he knew what made her think. He knew if he kissed her shoulder, and he knew that if he pressed into her hip with the right amount of pressure, she'd become weak in the knees. The lack of emotion in their activities brought out the hunger within her and he loved it.
He turned around just as quickly, and wretched into the sink. A warm hand at his back provided a small comfort as the alcohol came back up. It burned worse coming up then when it went down. It gave him a bitter taste in his mouth, worse then normal. Maybe it was a mixture of guilt, knowing that what he did wasn't smart. It wasn't his fault the kid was mouthy and had a hard on for the same woman he did.
"Come on," she said, entangling her fingers with his and pulling her down the hallway.
She took him to the bathroom and made him sit on the toilet as she got a warm washcloth and pressed it to his forehead. She handed him a cup of mouthwash and had him spit it back into the cup before tossing it into the waste. She was content with him there while she got ready for bed, where she was going to pull him into when she was done. It was an emotional day.
Another rumble shook the walls of her apartment. The storm was coming closer and she winced as the sound of the feet above her. She kept an ear out for the kids. Nothing.
"I really hate your job," Andy said, standing up and standing behind her.
She looked at him in the mirror and gave him a sympathetic smile. When he did something that she had to investigate then it was rough.
"Why can't we just- "
"Because it's complicated," Sharon said, wiping the makeup off with the small cloth. "And I'm not just going to shout it from the rooftops either."
"Sharon," Andy groaned, stepping into her and pressing her into the counter. "C'mon, what's there to lose?"
"My children," she said, giving him a challenging look. "I'm not going to lose them over this."
He spun her around and slanted his lips over hers. In hindsight he would regret this moment for the rest of his life. He would wish that what he did had never happened. But he was angry. He was so angry.
Andy swallowed the moans, the cried, the sharp hisses that came from Sharon with every kiss. He lost himself in her as he thought back to earlier in the day when she looked cold, hard, and militant. Now she was hot, soft, and very not militant. She was his and not the cold bitch the LAPD was making her into. He didn't know that woman. He didn't like that woman. He liked the one who was falling apart in his hold.
When he was satisfied, he made sure she was. There wasn't going to be a day when he'd forget the sound of her losing control. She liked so much to be in control and he reveled in taking that away from her. The power she wanted, craved so much in her life, was taken away with a simple kiss, a press of finger to the right spot.
She shook as she fell apart. She let out a sob as she gasped for air, making it sound like she let out a sob. Even if she did it fell on deaf ears. The blood was pulsing in Andy's and he pressed a kiss to her forehead when he left her, turning back into the bedroom.
"You're not staying here tonight," Sharon said, her voice cool. "So don't bother getting undressed."
"Sharon," he said pathetically. "Have you heard what it's like outside?"
"I'll drive," she shrugged. "I'll get the neighbor to watch the kids."
The power flickered on and off. She grabbed the car keys and knocked on the door of her neighbor, explaining the situation to her. Thankfully it hadn't been too late and the woman was still up. Sharon was grateful that the woman had just slipped from her apartment and into Sharon's easily enough. Andy had come stumbling into the hallway, cracking his shoulder on the frame as he did.
An arm around his waist was the only thing that kept him up. Slowly, the headache was starting to pound behind his eyes. It was in rhythm with his breathing, which made it that much more difficult to breathe. He wanted to badly to just fall into bed with her, to make it up to her in the morning with breakfast in bed, a series of kisses that was his apology.
He was slumped in the front seat, the seat belt hanging by the door. It was a rule in the car to put their seatbelts on no matter the distance, but as Sharon pulled away, down the street in her pre-determined direction, she found herself not really caring what happened to them if they had gotten into an accident.
The weather really was atrocious. As she came to a stop in front of a dimly lit church, Sharon was sitting in a pool of water that was mid-tire deep. She was sure if she opened her door the water would pool into the vehicle. She spotted an open door and pulled up to it, figuring it was easier to get to and less wet.
"Where are we?" Andy questioned, his voice a gravelly groan.
"You need help," she said, staring straight ahead. "I realized I was going easy on you earlier today. But I will be making an amend to your file. Mandatory rehab, mandatory anger management, and mandated therapy pending your arrival back to the field."
"You can't do that," Andy growled at her. "You have no fucking –"
Sharon turned in her seat and took his chin in her crooked fingers, forcing him to look at her. Pain filled his eyes and she thought fleetingly for a moment, Good. Then she released him.
"You've lost your children," she said, sticking the knife into his back. "You're going to lose your job next if you don't own up to this disease. You're going to die if you don't own this disease as your own. You have to own today if you're going to own tomorrow and as of right now, the disease is owning you."
He swung the door open and the rain was pouring. He stuck his feet out and instantly his feet were soaked through. His pants were drenched, dripping with water. He braced himself, taking a deep breath, before rising and getting further drenched.
He leaned back down, getting her car wet, and narrowed his eyes.
"You're a bitch, you know that?" Andy questioned. "No wonder your husband can't keep his pants zipped. He probably hates you too."
With that Andy Flynn stood. The door slammed with such force, the car rocked back and forth for a part of a second. It made Sharon jump, but she sat still, staring ahead of her.
She watched as Andy took a step and slipped, his hands coming out to brace the fall, but crumbling under the pressure. She wasn't sure if his head hit the concrete but when he stood back up, she couldn't bare to watch anymore of him struggling.
She had gone back home, thanking her neighbor once again and they talked about the weather for a moment before the older woman slipped into her own home. She was drying her hair when the tears came. She was slipping out of her wet clothes when the ache in her chest came. Standing stark naked in a spot where he and her had made love multiple times had her lungs begging for air.
The panic had set in and refused to recede. It wasn't until later that she picked herself up off the floor and went to bed. It wasn't until the next morning that she saw the white envelope by the lamp in the living room. Jack's handwriting on the front – she had missed it the night before.
Upon opening it and reading over it she realized that, right then and there, she was alone. She was going to raise her children by herself, that her husband had left her, she had kicked her lover out and quite literally to the curb – she brought this on herself.
Sharon sat, now, in the floor of her closet. A box of mementos from her previous marriage rested in her lap. The first note of many that Jack left her opened in her fingers. She had found it the morning after. Sharon shook her head and crumpled it up. It was an apology from Jack, a wish that she would get the white house, a new husband, one that would treat her better, that would love her the way she wanted, with the kids.
A knock on the bedroom door had her jumping out of the memory.
"Hey," Andy said popping his head around the door of the closet. "You find it?"
"No," Sharon said, shaking her head. "It might be in the boys closet."
"What do you got there?" Andy asked.
"Stuff from Jack," Sharon shrugged. "Ask Emily to check her closet. It might be in there."
"Okay," Andy nodded, leaving her be.
He knew that if she was engrossed in walking down memory lane, it was for the best to just leave her. She'd come to him if she wanted.
So if you find yourself missing me, just kiss the air. If not it's okay too. I don't expect you to. Take Care, Sharon. – Jack.
Sharon ripped the note, put the cover of her box back on and stood. She put the box back on it's shelf in the back of her closet and closed the doors. She missed Jack and missed the good times. She missed the friend she found in Jack and she missed the beginning of what they had. So she pressed a kiss to her fingers and pressed them against the wood before leaving her room.
She pressed a kiss to the air and hoped it found Jack, wherever he was. As she lifted Ricky, finding the boy running through the backyard with a bubble wand, the ache in her chest that had been there was gone. She finally managed to say goodbye, to let go of the past, and to move on with the future. A simple kiss to the air.
Thank you all to who have been reading this story! It's starting to wind down a bit. A few more chapters to go.
I'm sorry for the delay in posting! FFN was down and prevented me from posting. BUT. I hope you read this chapter and enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts!