Chapter 13: Dying message

December 2010

Over the past weeks Sharon had taken the letter from its hiding place quite a few times and she had even gone as far as opening the envelope - only to seal it again when the tears began running down her face. You mean the world to me. That line was stuck in her head - and in her heart. The memory of their night together was becoming more and more clear, her nightly dreams of Andy adding detail and colour. Those dreams were good dreams for the most part, but contrary to the past when they had let her wake up happy, they now left her with an ache and an emptiness she could neither soothe nor fill. One morning after a particularly vivid dream, the taste of Andy's kisses still on her lips, she took the letter out of the envelope and smoothed the papers out on her lap. She started by reading those first paragraphs again though she needed have done it. She had already committed them to mind. Then, in an act of bravery, she skipped to the very last page.

If you're still reading at this point I must be a very lucky man. Now you know why I disappeared and acted like such a coward. Thank you for reading this and giving me the chance to explain myself.

I cannot ask for your forgiveness, because I know only too well that I don't deserve it.

I cannot justify my actions, because there simply is no way to justify them.

I can only imagine how much I hurt you. I made one mistake, and so many followed that first one. I never had the decency and strength to explain myself. Instead, I spent years convincing myself that I hated you while it was the complete opposite. I attacked you and fought with you every chance I got, because fighting with you meant you were paying attention to me. Sharon, you deserved none of all the hate I poured on you over the years. I am ashamed of the way I treated you. I was an asshole and an idiot.

I have no right to ask this, but I so wish I could find a way to interact with you as Ricky's father without hurting you more and more like I seem to have done over the past months. You have shown me so much trust by letting me get to know him – and I have paid you back in pain.

Forgive me, Sharon. Let me show you that I have changed, and that I want to make amends for the many ways in which I have wronged you over the years.

With all my love,

Andy

P.S.: I still dream of you almost every night. I didn't know that I also called out for you in my sleep until Ricky mentioned it during one of my visits. I know I have no right, but I hope against hope that we will become friends at some point. Sharon, I dream of holding you the way I held you all those years ago. I dream of a second chance for us.

Her hands were shaking as the writing became blurry. Without looking she folded the papers together and shoved them back into the envelope blindly reaching for the drawer she had kept it in. Only when it was safely back in its hiding place, the drawer once again firmly shut did she allow herself to let the tears fall.

How often had she dreamed of that second chance? Particularly during the early years: when the nurse had placed her newborn son into her arms and she had recognised Andy in him right away, when she had brought the little bundle home, during the nights she had tried to soothe her colicky baby, when she had celebrated his first birthday and Emily had blown out the candle on the cake asking why their dad didn't love them. Her dad who preferred to gamble and Ricky's dad who didn't even know he had a son.

She struggled whether to read the rest of the letter. Not today, she decided, but maybe on the weekend when she would have time to herself to deal with the fallout. She knew that learning the real reason Andy had left all those years ago would upset her. It had the potential to derail her life completely. She would finally have an answer to the question she had been asking herself for year. Why? Why had he left her without so much as a word?

And now he was looking for a second chance. A second chance for what? More pain and heartache? Love - the beginning of which she had been sure to feel during that night? She chided herself for her stupid thoughts and went for a run. But no matter how fast she ran and how exhausted she was, that little voice in her heart wouldn't stop. A second chance. But this was Andy Flynn. Officer Flynn. Lieutenant Flynn. The bane of her existence as her team jokingly called him. What kind of chance would that be?

Sharon was out having dinner with a few girlfriends when the call came in. Truth be told, she almost didn't pick up when she saw the caller ID. She had no desire to speak to Andy, no desire to speak to any man at all if she was being honest. A girls' night out was exactly what she needed. Even if it was the light version because she was technically on call and hence couldn't participate in the drinking. She rolled her eyes and stood up to move a little away from the group.

She picked up on the third ring, because, Andy Flynn or not, she had a job to do and she took that very seriously. The first thing she heard was his heavy breathing and a feeling of dread settled in her stomach. This wasn't one of his usual calls. His voice alone was enough to tell her that something was seriously wrong. It had none of its usual tease and lightness and sounded harrowed. She seemed to go on autopilot after that telling Flynn to stay were he was, putting money on the table while she confirmed the details with Dispatch, sliding her arms into her dark blue trench while she informed her team to join her at the crime scene and while waving goodbye to her friends she called the ambulance for good measure. A part of her knew this was irrational: Andy said that he had already called them, and so had Dispatch, but she needed to be sure.

The drive to the address, a church on the other side of town, was fraught with fear. He had been stabbed. She knew only too well just how dangerous these wounds could be. Back in her patrol days her partner had been stabbed and he had bled out in her arms before the ambulance had even had a chance to arrive. Granted, he hadn't even been able to speak after the attack, but the image of Andy lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood burned itself into her retina. She caught herself swearing when she was caught in a wave of red lights. She couldn't use lights and sirens, but she came very close to disregarding that rule. What kept her calm was the knowledge that the ambulance could do so and that there was a depot not far from the church. Andy would already be getting medical attention.

She could spot the crimescene from far away. There was ambulance and a number of black and whites. Before getting out of her car she reminded herself to remain calm. For all everyone knew, Andy was a notoriously difficult Lieutenant, and not the father of her son and the man who wrote her such wonderful letters. Oh dammit, she should have read the rest of that letter!

Her officers were waiting for her, briefing her the moment she stepped out of her car. The black and whites had been faster and had cordoned off the area with their yellow tape. There were bits of glass scattered everywhere, an upturned rubbish bin, two damaged cars. Her hands started shaking when she noticed the drops of blood on the ground and she pushed them deeply into her pockets so nobody would notice. Andy had fought for his life.

"Lieutenant Flynn is refusing to go to the hospital, Captain. Says he wants to give his statement first and is insisting he'll only give it to you," Sergeant Elliot offered with a nod towards the ambulance. Andy sat in the back, surrounded by paramedics. Thank God, she thought, at least he was alive and immediately chastised herself for the feeling of relief that flooded through her. It was only for Ricky's sake, she kept telling herself, because she didn't want him to loose the father he had only just met and it had nothing to do with his letter or that second chance he had asked for.

"Let me walk you over there, Captain," Elliot interrupted her thoughts.

"No need. You make sure nothing is disturbed here."

"What a time for Lieutenant Flynn to remember the rules, eh?" he chuckled and she gave him a sharp nod. "That will be all, Sergeant." She turned on her heel and walked towards the ambulance, her officers following behind, her heart racing.

There was blood on his face and seeping through the bandage on his abdomen. He was fighting the paramedics but she could see they stood no chance against him.

"Let them do their job, Lieutenant," she reminded him gently, making sure to use his title. She schooled her face into a calm expression and listened to him, but when he fell over she couldn't not touch his shoulder, couldn't not try to prop him up. That short touch, entirely unintentional on his part, she was sure, shot through her like a bolt of lightening.

She had touched him. That was all Andy remembered. She had touched him and he had felt safe just because of her. Throughout all the pain and the hazy fog he remembered her beautiful eyes framed by harsh dark glasses and that hair. Sharon's hair. At least he had seen her again, he thought as he was struggling to stay conscious. There was so much he still wanted to say, about the attack, but about them, too. Had she read his letter? Did she know how he felt about her? This was Sharon, his Sharon and this might be his last chance to tell her how much he loved her. The last thing he heard was her voice "He better wake up!" Yes, she would be ordering the EMTs around because that's what she would do. Captain Raydor. His Sharon. Red and blue lights. Flashing. Tell her. Sharon. Then everything went black.

Sharon could hear the ambulance drive off as she retraced the drops of blood Andy's attacker had left. It was only after she had put out the hospital alert that she took a deep breath. She needed a moment by herself to collect her thoughts and remain as calm and professional as her team expected her to be, as she owed everyone to be. She wasn't the mother of Andy's son right now, she was a police officer and she had a job to do.

"Captain Raydor? Lieutenant Flynn briefly regained consciousness on the way to the hospital. He is refusing treatment unless they pass on a message."

"A message?" And what do I have to do with that, she added in her thoughts.

"He insisted we tell you, and only you. He said he had a message for Ricky."

She squared her shoulders. "What's the message, Sergeant?"

"To tell Ricky that he loves him – and to tell Ricky's mother that he's never loved anyone like her and that he is sorry for hurting her. Do you know who this Ricky is? His son, maybe? But then he would have said the name of his wife, too, wouldn't he? I didn't even know he was married. Did you?"

"Sergeant, thank you for delivering the message," she said sharply, "and now, rather than waste your time speculating about things that aren't your business in the first place, please go back to your work."

Only years of training helped her keep her professional mask firmly in place. Those might have been Andy's last breaths – and he had used them to tell her he loved her.