Part XII

-o-

"You are fucking her, aren't you?"

Provenza accused him as they drove to work together. It was a sneak-attack, well planned, Andy thought. There was no place to flee to; he was trapped in the car with Provenza and whether he spoke or not it would be telling. Shit. This was not happening.

It had been inevitable, though, he acknowledged. Secrets that dark were bound to come into the daylight eventually. First Rusty and now Provenza. Only Rusty was so protective of Sharon that he would help her bury a body; Andy was not sure about Provenza. Sure his buddy would help him bury a body but this was something so different, something that had never had a place in their friendship before. He was unsure – which was really the reason he had not told him a single thing about it, why he had kept it secret from even him.

"Fucking who?" he tried to evade even though he knew Provenza was not fooled.

"Don't play dumb; it doesn't suit you"

"Fine"

"So, what the hell are you doing?"

"Fucking her, as you so eloquently put it"

"You idiot," Provenza sounded exasperated and half angry, "I mean what the fuck, shit – do you have any idea at all how stupid that is?"

"I know yes, thank you very much," Andy growled back, feeling defensive. He wished he had driven alone to work and not agreed to let his partner pick him up. He kept his eyes out the window.

"Flynn, what are you even doing with her? She's your superior for god's sake!"

"I think we've established what I am doing with her," he drawled. Sarcasm was always a good cover; it would hide his spiraling into dread panic. It would be something to hang unto; would calm him down.

Provenza cursed, "What, you couldn't have found someone else to fuck? Would that have been too much trouble?"

Andy shrugged and gave a grunt. There was really nothing to say to that. He really did not want to talk about it, he realized, with anybody. He had thought about telling someone but now he understood that talking about it was too precarious. It made him feel heavy and half frightened.

"Christ, this is why you have been behaving like two lunatics all this time – antagonizing everything and everyone one minute and going all soft the next!"

"It's complicated," he answered, trying to rein in his anger. It was not Provenza's fault. But he did not like this reprimanding and assault out of thin air – did not like his dirty laundry now out in the open. It felt like being in the interview room at work only he was on the wrong side of the table.

"Have you talked to the Captain about this?" Andy asked his voice grumpy, feeling dizzy at the prospect. If Sharon knew Provenza knew; she would freak out. He could not even imagine what she would do; but he knew it would be something that would freak him out as well. It would be even more of a mess then.

"Are you crazy Flynn; I wouldn't be able to look her in the eye again, ever," Provenza replied, his voice equally grumpy, "let alone, how do I tell her I know without being told off Raydor style?"

Andy rolled his eyes, "Well, you could always just jump it into the conversation like you just did. Very suave."

"Oh shut up, you idiot. Why haven't you told me about this? Maybe before you plunged headfirst into sneaking around having sex with her?"

"I don't know," he sighed, feeling defeated.

Provenza turned his head, giving him a weird glare. Then his eyes widened;

"You're miserable?"

He was miserable, now that the old coot mentioned it. It was a bizarre feeling, he reflected, he felt so foreign to himself. Everything was outside his control. It was like jumping from one extreme emotion to the next, barely reveling in one side of the spectrum before leaping to the next. Ecstatic, then panicky – content, then despondent. It was freaking him out; and he had no clue what to do.

"Why are you even doing this if it makes you miserable?"

"I don't know," Andy spat out. He could not tell him that this despondency in his mind was enticing somehow, could not tell him that he felt like someone else, split between these overwhelming sensations that left him feeling both drunk and giddy; that would only guarantee him getting carted off to have his head examined.

They both sighed.

They drove in silence for a while.

Then another assault happened. Only this was worse than the first. This time it was even more intense, even more direct. It felt like being smacked in the face with a baseball bat – repeatedly.

"You're in love," Provenza accused him, his voice suddenly triumphant as if he had solved a very hard riddle.

"Wha-what?" it felt like electricity surging through him, intense fear and pain intermingling. He wished those words had never been uttered; but they were out in the open now. Someone had uttered them – not him – but just the mere utterance of the words and they hung in front of him as if incased in neon lighting – flashing in a painful fashion, grabbing his whole attention.

He felt sick.

"It all makes sense now; you are in love with her," Provenza explained to him, and his voice sounded so certain.

Why was it that the moment it left someone else's lips it reverberated within, suddenly so obvious that it pained him? Made him feel sick to the point of retching? It made sense to him now as well. It was glaringly obvious; god he was in love. It explained everything – explained the last year of his turbulent existence. It explained why he was walking around in a daze; his emotions splattered all over in exuberance and gloom.

Shit, this was not good. He gripped the sides of the seat beneath him, needing something to tell him that he was still somewhat grounded; that he was still in the moving car and would not be sucked into the dark abyss that had opened up in his mind, forcefully trying to pull him under.

"I am not in love with her," he wanted his voice to be caustic but it only sounded tired; like a drawn out sigh.

"Flynn; you are miserable, you are screwing Raydor. You are in love"

It sounded foreign to him. It did not really sound like he felt. It did not feel like a correct summarization of what was between him and her; it sounded too logical. He did not feel the slightest logic in his existence, had not felt it since that night when they had started this whole mess.

Andy grumbled. He had no idea what to say. Every word that would leave his lips would be strange. He could not very well agree and say it out aloud.

"So, what is the problem?" Provenza sighed.

"Problem?" he repeated, feeling even more fragile now. Everything was a problem – he had no clue were to start!

"If everything was A-Okay you wouldn't be walking around with that god awful look on your face. Why do you think I found out in the first place?"

He swallowed; he had never imagined people would be able to read him like an open book. Would be able to tell the whole essence of his being when he had not even acknowledged it himself.

"Nothing's wrong," the words tumbled from his mouth, rigid. If he said it out aloud maybe he could believe it himself.

Provenza sighed again.

"You look like a lost puppy, Andy"

He tried to glare, tried to heave himself up from this puddle he was lying in. Only he felt like every last bit of strength had left him.

"It's complicated," Andy exhaled. This day was a nightmare, he thought. It was only bound to get worse; nightmares always did, even the real ones.

"So, it's unrequited?" Provenza sounded almost angry again.

Unrequited; that word felt like ice – frozen white snow in his veins, relentless and overpowering. He had no fucking idea. That was the problem.

How was he supposed to know if she was in love with him when he had not even known he was in love with her? She most likely had no idea herself. Now, looking back it was obvious that he had been in love with her. But nothing about her was obvious. He had no fucking clue.

"I don't know," he sighed.

Provenza shook his head.

"What about asking her? Put you out of your misery?"

"No, no. That can't happen," he sounded panicky now. He was sure of how he felt. And he was sure no matter what she felt that her reaction would be panic; she would startle like a deer and flee if he told her.

"You cannot tell her, about any of this. Not you knowing or about-", he paused, "You cannot tell her anything, okay?"

Provenza nodded but he looked undecided. He looked like someone who did not understand.

Andy did not understand himself either. He thought maybe it was something no one would ever understand. It seemed beyond comprehension.

The rest of the drive to work was in silence.

He felt anxious. It was horrible. He had never wanted to know this, to know he loved her. It only made it that much more complicated and less content. He would be conscious of everything now, painfully sentient to everything about her, everything between them.

Surely, this would end in ruins now.

-o-