Author's Note: ProfTweety, thank you for your insight into AA!
I was having a hard time being away from Sharon or even leaving her out of my sight. It wasn't really a problem, because we were in the same room and spent all our time together, walking along the hallways to allow Sharon to build up some strength and going for longer walks in the hospital gardens holding hands. But the therapist Naomi recommended insisted on seeing both of us together as well as individually. I could feel the blood in my veins freeze when she suggested it and I know Sharon noticed because she immediately put her hand on my arm in a long familiar gesture.
It's odd. She said that the drugs made her feel foggy and that they messed 'with her words', but she was as perceptive and empathic as ever. She was just very, very direct. Her warm hand grounded me for a moment, but it didn't do anything against the panic that was rising in my chest. Who would look after Sharon, who would be with her while I was in therapy? What if something happened to her, what if she did something to herself while I was gone?
The moment we were back in our room, Sharon went straight to the point, "Something the therapist said made you uneasy."
"Come here," I couldn't have this conversation without holding her so I gently pulled her into my lap. It felt good to have her so close. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss on the forehead, then she leant back looking at me expectantly while her hands started playing with the hair at the back of my neck. How much I had missed those moments, those little caresses. We used to do that all the time without even thinking much, it had been part of our routine the moment we were back home or away from work. Small gestures that showed how much we loved each other. They were slowly creeping back into our routine now and that realisation made me sigh quite happily.
"Tell me, Andy," she demanded interrupting my thoughts. In the meantime my good arm had come up to circle her waist and my hand slipped underneath her sweater. I squeezed her waist briefly letting her know I had heard her.
"The therapist said we should have individual sessions with her."
"And you don't want to do that?"
"Oh no, that's not the point. I'm happy to do anything that helps you get better, anything for us, Sharon. It's just that I'm scared something is going to happen if … if I let you out of my sight." Darn, that sounded possessive. I just hoped she wouldn't be upset.
But Sharon remained seated in my lap, kissing my forehead again. "And by something you mean that I would commit suicide?"
Suicide. Not a moment's hesitation, no dancing around the issue. Suicide.
"Andy? Is that what you're afraid of?"
I nodded and leaned in to hide my face against her neck, nuzzling the hair aside to get to her warm soft skin. "The thought of you taking your life kills me, Sharon. I … I'm already blaming myself for not having been there and now … at least when you're with me I can make sure you're okay, I can make sure nothing happens." As long as I could hold her in my arms, she would be safe.
"I'm not thinking about doing that anymore, Andy. I haven't since … not since I've been in hospital, not since we've been together. Okay?"
I shook my head, unable to say a word.
"No? What do you need, Andy? What can I do to convince you?"
"Stay with me, don't leave me."
"I'm not planning on leaving you."
"No. Stay. With me. Physically. In the same room."
Her arms came off my shoulders and she placed her hands on both of my cheeks, moving my face so she could look directly into my eyes, "That is not a long term solution."
"One day at a time. Please, Sharon, I know this sounds harsh, but I need time to trust you again." I involuntarily tightened my hold on her, but she didn't try to get away. "Time to trust in your health and in your will to live."
And then I lost it and the tears came and Sharon started crying, too and we just sat there, bawling, holding onto each other. At least she was still alive, at least she was still here with me. So warm and alive, her heart beating and her breath warm and sweet in my face.
/
I woke up with a start and panic in every fibre of my body. My side felt cold, empty. Sharon! Where was Sharon?
"Sharon?"
Everything had seemed fine when we had gone to bed. We had both taken our medicines for the night and for a while, Sharon had cradled my head in her lap, humming and running her fingers through my hair. That helped more than all the painkillers of the world combined, that and her earlier promise that she wanted to live, and that she wanted to live with me. She had seemed so calm and almost serene when she wrapped an arm around me before falling asleep, snoring lightly and snuggling closer to me every time she moved.
"Sharon, where are you?"
No answer, just a dark, quiet room and my heart in the icy grip of panic. Oh my God. She had snuck off in the middle of the night, no note, no goodbye, nothing. The bed next to me was still warm. I had only just missed her. She was gone. My Sharon was gone. Oh God dammit!
Without thinking I propped myself up on my hands. Fuck. My stupid hand. I couldn't suppress a groan of pain and then suddenly the light came on.
"Andy? Darling, what happened?" Sharon! Her voice was soft and full of concern.
"Where were you?" I demanded angrily.
"What happened, Andy?" She sat down on the bed next to me, a hand on my shoulder. "Did you hurt your hand?"
"Where the fuck where you?"
"Bathroom. Why are you so angry, Andy? What happened?"
"You want to know what happened? I woke up and you were gone and I thought you had gone and killed yourself! That's what happened. Oh fuck, my hand!" I shouted, relief at seeing her alive and the pain warring in my body.
"Andy, I only went to the bathroom."
How could her voice still sound so calm and reasonable?
"Why didn't you tell me? Fuck! I woke up and you were gone!"
"You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you. I was only a few feet away, the entire time."
"But you were gone and I thought…" Yes, I had thought that she had committed suicide. I couldn't breathe and the more I tried, the more difficult it became and I just … the despair. How I wished there was I way I wouldn't have to feel it.
And there was a way. I knew the one sure-fire way not to feel it.
"You thought I snuck out of bed to kill myself," Sharon finished my sentence for me. It sounded even worse coming from her own lips. "I didn't, Andy, and I won't."
"But you promised me you would tell me before you left and … and … dammit!"
"I'm sorry, I didn't think you would wake up."
"Well, I would prefer if you wake up - so I don't find myself in an empty bed!"
"Okay, Andy, I get it. I'll wake you up next time, okay? No more sneaking out in the middle of the night."
For the first time during our exchange I looked at her, really looked at her, into her face that showed such concern for me, the worry lines on her forehead, the curve of her mouth. I sighed. "Okay. Now come to bed and let me hold you."
"But your hand, you should call a doctor to have it seen to."
I didn't want a doctor, I wanted Sharon. "It's fine. I'll have it looked at tomorrow morning. Now come here!"
Sharon looked at me for a moment and then she nodded. As she slipped under the sheets and I wrapped my arm around her, she hummed happily, squeezing her icy feet between my legs.
"You're freezing, woman."
"And you're hot." And then she kissed me like she hadn't kissed me in months. I forgot all about the pain in my hand and the worry and the cold feet and gave myself over to the sensations. God, I had almost forgotten how much I desired her.
"Hot and irresistible", she whispered into the kiss, "and you're even more irresistible when you're so concerned about me."
/
I thought about that the next morning as I was sitting outside the therapist's office waiting for Sharon. She had never been so direct, at least not with words. I usually knew when she wanted me from the way she looked at me and touched me, from her little hums. This was very different. Not a bad kind of different, but still very different.
"Hey, you're still here!"
"I waited for you," I smirked. "How did it go?"
"Alright, I guess. Did you get your hand checked out?" Deflecting or concern for me?
I shook my head, "It's much better now."
"You were in so much pain, Andy." I would be in far more pain if I lost her.
"Andy? Please, I should have insisted on it this morning instead of … uh well…" The blush that crept up her cheeks was plain adorable. This was the Sharon I knew.
"Instead of kissing me to make me all better? I enjoyed you kissing me better."
"Well, I enjoyed it, too, Andy. A lot!" she shook her head and smiled bashfully. "Gosh, my words, but I really did enjoy that - so much!"
"So did I. Don't worry, Sharon. Come on, let's see if we can find someone to look at my hand and put your mind at rest – and then we can have our hospital lunch in bed." What an irresistible offer.
Sharon linked her arm with mine and looked up at me with an inquisitive expression. "Why are you always calling me Sharon?"
"Because that's your name." Now she had me confused. What else should I call her? Except, well.
"I know, but you used to call me sweetheart and sometimes honey and now, now it's just Sharon."
"You told me not to call you sweetheart anymore? Do you remember? You ordered me to leave and told me I'd lost all right to call you that."
"Gosh, Andy, I was angry and we were fighting! I didn't mean it. Well, or at least I don't mean it anymore."
She stopped and pulled on my arm a little waiting for my eyes to meet hers, and then she smiled shyly. "Could you call me sweetheart again? I really miss it."
"I'd love to call you sweetheart again, sweetheart." That small exchange had only taken a little moment, but it felt like something between us had shifted back into place. Sharon was still very sick. The therapist had explained to us that much of her quick recovery right now was due to the medicines allowing her to sleep again, but that it would take months for her to get back to her former self. It would be a long journey, but at least it seemed like we would be on that journey together.
/
"Can I talk to you about your sobriety?" There really was no escaping Sharon and her directness these days.
"Of course you can, sweetheart," I responded loving the ease and familiarity with which the term of endearment rolled off my tongue. Sharon seemed to notice, too, because she smiled at me.
"After you hit the wall, you said you needed a meeting."
"I did, but I fell before I could get anywhere."
"And how are you now?"
How could I answer that truthfully without overburdening her? Because the truth was that as long as we were together and we weren't fighting, I was fine. But like that morning when I had woken up to find her gone and the pain of loosing her had just been too much, I knew I longed for a drink. Not with enough intensity to actually go and get one, not as badly as when she had told me about her suicidal thoughts, but still. And then there was the one big thing I hadn't told her about yet. She only knew that the fractures in my hand were complicated. She didn't know that a number of tendons in my hand had ruptured during the fall. She didn't know that I might never again regain the full use of my right hand, that I might never again be able to shoot a gun. I might have to retire from active duty and that thought frightened me.
"I noticed you haven't been to a meeting since you broke your hand and I was wondering if … if I could come with you? I can sit in the back and be quiet, but you would know I was there. You know, with you. Safe."
"Oh sweetheart!" I was so incredibly touched by her offer, I couldn't even find the words to say how much. My heart felt ready to burst at her thoughtfulness. "I would very much like that, and you can sit with me, if you like. You don't need to sit in the back. I … thank you, sweetheart. You have no idea how much that means to me."
"You mean everything to me, Andy, and I know you haven't been looking after yourself so well these past months because I've been sick, but I am better now and I want you to be well, too. I love you, Andy, and I need you."
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
We went to the meeting that took place in the hospital chapel later that day. People recognised me and I introduced Sharon to them, the woman I had talked so much about. Then the meeting started and Sharon sat next to me, holding my hand between hers and leaning into me so our shoulders touched. She didn't say anything, she just sat there and caressed my hand much like she had at Nicole's wedding. A quiet presence that gave me strength. Then she had given me the strength to brave the stares and mistrust of my family, now she was the one to give me the strength to cling to my sobriety. A reminder of what I had to loose.
Over twenty years, I had the ring and the medals to show for it. I had come close in the earlier years, but not since then. That night here in the hospital had been the closest call in years. I squeezed Sharon's hand and she looked at me and gave me a reassuring smile. She was here with me quietly supporting me. She accepted this part of my life and respected it. I had once asked her whether those similarities between Jack and me bothered her. "No", she had said and shaken her head. "You two couldn't be more different. You might share an addiction, but how you have been dealing with it is what sets you apart."
/
One afternoon we were sitting in bed together, Sharon between my legs comfortably curled against my chest. Her hair smelled lovely, fresh and flowery and it was beautifully curly because she had let it dry naturally. It gave her a wild and somewhat carefree look I loved. My good hand was playing with that wonderful hair while the other one was resting over her middle. She hummed contentedly trailing her fingers up and down my sides. The morning session with the therapist had been intense, but good and we had decided that we felt ready to go home. That would be a big step, but one in the right direction. My hand seemed to be healing well and it was not an injury that required a prolonged hospitalisation anyway.
"I look forward to sleeping in our own bed again," Sharon looked up at me and smiled, "without nightmares," and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. It started off soft and innocent, like all our kisses recently except for that one a few days ago. A tender meeting of the lips assuring each other of our presence and our love, meant to comfort and not to arouse much like the way we were holding each other now. Seeking solace, providing strength and stability in a world that seemed to have turned rather too quickly for us these past months. I enjoyed the softness of her hair between my fingers and the warmth of her body against mine. My Sharon.
But Sharon didn't stop and our kiss was slowly changing into something more passionate. I could feel it wake up my entire body, stirrings I hadn't felt in so long, a heat warming me from within. We hadn't kissed like this since we last made love, our last happy night together at the condo. Memories flooded me and Sharon's warm tongue and her curious hands felt too wonderful for words, her moans and hums encouraging me. She turned in my arms so I could hold her closer to me and then she sat up and moved into my lap straddling me. So alive, so intense, so beautiful and so incredibly sexy. I let my lips travel down her jaw and over her neck, kissing her just the way she liked it and when I slipped one hand under her top, she moaned my name. I almost forgot to breathe.
"Oh, excuse me!"
We moved apart as we turned in sync towards the source of the voice and met with an amused smile.
"Gosh, I'm sorry," Sharon stuttered, but Nurse Kathy just shook her head and laughed.
"All part of the recovery process and this is actually a very good sign. I was going to take your blood pressure, Mr Flynn, but I'll better come back for that in half an hour."
Uh, yeah. My blood pressure. She closed the door without further ado and I pulled Sharon back against me.
"Now that was embarrassing," I remarked dryly, trying to make her laugh.
"Gosh, Andy! I really want you." Bless her medicines and the straight talk! Now that was a side effect I could live with.
I chuckled and kissed her soundly. "Oh sweetheart, so do I."
"Good," she sighed contentedly and kissed me - on the cheek. "I'll be a good girl now and go back to my own bed so you can calm down a little."
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," but I wasn't quite ready to let her go though. "So … raincheck?"
"Tonight. After the last rounds maybe? I … I'm not sure I'd like to get caught again."
My heart was still beating quickly and I watched her, taking deep breaths, her cheeks beautifully flushed and a small mark starting to show on her perfect neck. I hadn't intended to mark her, but I guess I had gotten more than just a little carried away.
"You've got yourself a deal, sweetheart," She really did look radiant. "Wow, Sharon."
She cast a sideways glance at me, "Yeah, wow! You realise that this is how it's going to be in the nursing home? You and I climbing into each other's beds trying not to get caught."
"Sweetheart, please tell me you are not seriously thinking about nursing homes right now?"
"No, I'm thinking about making love to you." The moments the words were out she clasped her hands in front of her mouth, blushing furiously. "Gosh, Andy. These medicines!"
I gently pried her hands away from her face and held onto them as best as I could with my one hand. When she finally looked at me, I leaned in for a quick kiss. "I'll spend the rest of the day looking forward to making love to you tonight, sweetheart."
By the time Nurse Kathy came back we were each in our own beds, holding hands and, at least in my case, thinking about the night to come. Needless to say my blood pressure was not as low as it should have been.
/
I'm a gentleman, so I won't talk about our first night together. Only that it was wonderful and everything I could have wished for. We kissed and cuddled while we were waiting until everything became quiet. We slowly started exploring and rediscovering each other, savouring every inch of skin uncovered, every kiss and every touch, every sound and every breath. Oh, how much I had missed these moments of intimacy and closeness, the sounds and feelings of making love to Sharon.
Afterwards, we lay in each other's arms, exhausted and still panting and for the first time in months I allowed myself to think that we would be okay, that we would get through this and come out the other end still together, stronger. Then Sharon started giggling.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
"I'm already so much looking forward to the next time!"