What makes courage wither? Part 7

Nothing could ever have prepared Andy for the phone call he received from Provenza. It woke him from a slumber on his couch in front of the TV. The phone had buzzed and as he saw the caller ID, he had been ready to tell his partner that short of a body, he was most definitely not going anywhere. However the hurried and panicked tone of Provenza had stopped him short, and had duly woken him up, his heart leapt into his throat when Provenza told him of Rusty and Sharon needing back-up.

Terror was a peculiar thing.

Sometimes terror froze you in place, and sometimes, like this night, terror struck Andy solid in the chest like a continuous lightning strike, increasing over time into an even higher voltage. It left him a buzzing sense of dread and blocked out most conscious thoughts. He could only focus on getting to Sharon.

In hindsight, Andy's alert level had been somewhat elevated since early morning at the discovery of Sharon receiving another bouquet of roses. But somehow or other, Andy had been able to bury the emotion; it had felt safe enough. So he had gone home without thinking too much on the danger the bouquet should have posed.

Fuck.

Andy was up and out of bed before Provenza was finished talking, hopping around on one foot as he franticly pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a t-shirt over his tank top. He clipped on badge and gun, the weight felt familiar and comforting. He had the phone pressed against his ear with a raised shoulder as he spoke with Provenza. Patrol and Sanchez were already notified and likely already on their way to the scene.

Andy stretched his neck after Provenza hung up. He cursed as he lost precious seconds looking for his car keys. He leaned in to look at the basket he usually kept small knickknacks in, and unwittingly stubbed his toe against the granite of the table island in his kitchen. He grimaced and blew out an exasperated curse, but he found the keys and ran out of the apartment. Fear dug into him with cold clammy claws as he ran to his car and set it in motion.

Shit.

The car sped down the otherwise quiet street, the dark night lit up by the portable siren blazing on top. Andy winced at the screeching of tires when he turned a corner. He only slowed down in intersections and sharp corners, mindful only of not getting into a delaying accident. He drove well above the speed limit, yet it did not really register with him. His emotions were boiling; there was only the goal of reaching Sharon's place.

He thought about what Provenza had told him over the phone. Of course, Sharon had to confront a stranger carrying roses in her garage. Why couldn't she have called for fucking back-up first? It would have eased both Andy's racing heart and the unbridled latent worry that this was really gonna do it to his high blood pressure.

Fuck.

Andy tried hard not to think of what would meet him at the scene; she was fine, she would be fine. She knew how to defend herself; she was not a rookie, or worse, a civilian. He knew Sharon threw a mean punch. She had to be fine. Anything but not fine only made his throat tighten up and the inside of his mouth dry up. The longer he thought about Sharon in danger, the more compressed his chest felt. He pushed down harder on the speeder.

Arriving at Sharon's condominium, he saw two cruisers were already parked at the entrance to the underground parking garage; their blue and red lights flashing ominously. Andy parked his car next to one of them and then flashed his badge at one of the uniforms, and hurried past them when they waved him on.

The first thing he noticed in the parking garage was Julio Sanchez's Charger and it brought a momentary relief. If Julio was here, then everything would be under control and she would be fine. The lights from the cruisers made their way into the garage and gave the scene an eerily spooky light. It felt far removed from reality.

Andy hurriedly made his way to a group of people that stood in a huddle near the back. He easily recognized the figure of Sharon in the midst.

Just seeing her and he could breathe again.

If she could stand and talk, then she had to be unharmed. Andy tried his hardest not to run, but he ended up trotting as dormant fear made him go faster. Even though she was breathing and alive, he needed to be closer to truly understand it. The dreading sense of terror was slowly ebbing out, he could still taste fear in the back of his throat, a bitter and stale flavor. To say his emotions were all over the place was not an understatement

On his way to the group, Andy bypassed Julio and a uniform with their hands around the upper arms of tall man. The man was towering concrete; the muscles of his upper arms well defined and bulging even in the handcuffs they had him in, he had a sharp face that seemed to have been shaped from stone. Andy narrowed his eyes and glared into the man's eyes as he passed the trio by. The man stared back, eyes devoid of much emotion. The man's face was unreadable but for the slight crooked smile that lifted the corner of his mouth. A morbid smile. It was as if the man could sense Andy's underlying fear and anger. His nose was crooked with blood still gushing fresh. It did not seem to bother him much.

Andy narrowed his eyes even further, his hands fisting by his side. The creep smiled more. Andy ignored it and stopped just behind them. He caught Julio's gaze.

"This is the moron?"

Sanchez nodded grimly, "Yeah, the Captain got him good," his voice dripped with barely contained anger.

Andy smiled and then in a dark, low voice, he added, "Make him comfortable, won't you."

Julio smiled back in the same fashion, "I will, right after the doc's looked at him. Mr. Hunt here is going to booking for an overnight stay."

Andy nodded. Julio prodded the handcuffed man to walk again.

Andy watched as Julio put the creep into the backseat of one of the cruisers. Julio stayed by the cruiser, keeping an eye on the arrested man. Andy considered briefly whether or not he should have a little talk with the creep before he went into booking; just to make sure the man understood the serious matter of attacking police captains. For the moment though, Andy moved on, his jaw clenched together in part anger, part fear. He had to see her first, and then he would decide.

Sharon stood close to a concrete column, one hand uncharacteristicly braced on Provenza's shoulder for support. Rusty hovered uncertain behind her. Sergeant Stapples stood in front of her with one of Sharon's former lieutenants. Elmer or Elliott, or something like that, Andy thought. Stapples' back was to Andy, the stocky F.I.D. man looking at a notebook in his hands.

From afar, it all looked normal; Stapples was getting a statement as procedure would see it. Sharon must have fired her gun, Andy rationalized. Though the creep did not appear to have been shot as there was no EMTs present and Julio could walk him quietly to the cruiser.

Close up, however, it was a different scenario; Rusty was pale and ashen, but Sharon looked worse. The skin beneath her left eye was swollen and red, the markings of a bruise to come. Something shifted in her expression when Andy came within view, her eyes widened slightly and her mouth parted before she closed it and turned her attention back to Stapples. Andy sighed, well knowing he could not touch her even if that was the only thing he wanted to do.

Andy had received a couple of bruises in his day; she would need an ice pack to counter the swelling of her eye. Andy wondered if he should get her one immediately, but there were still the photographs, he assumed. She would need to have every injury documented first before she could put on an ice pack.

Andy let his gaze go up and down the length of her body as he made a quick assessment of any other injuries she had acquired. The cloth of her pants were teared at knee length and darkened by small spots of blood, and the visible skin looked raw and abrased. What held his attention more was the way she fiddled with her hands, somewhat nervously. It was not a very obvious thing but he caught onto it straight away. Her knuckles looked torn up, and with abrasions as well. That would need to be cleaned out, Andy thought. And an ice pack would do her good here as well. He hoped she hadn't broken anything.

"- so, then Mr. Hunt attacked you?" Stapples asked, the question sounded condescending, but once Andy saw the man's expression, he knew the sergeant was as troubled by the situation as everyone else. He breathed out relieved, the last thing they needed was F.I.D. throwing their weight around.

"Of course the moron attacked her, Stapples," Provenza blew out before Sharon could answer. Provenza's tone was impatient and frustrated, but the way he put a hand on Sharon's elbow was gentle, his eyes narrowed into a glare at both Stapples and Elmer. Provenza would likely never admit to it, but Andy knew Sharon had a big place in the old man's heart.

"So, what's the deal?" Andy interrupted once he made it to the little group, saving Provenza from the frown that was forming on Sharon's face. She had no doubt been about to reprimand him.

Andy gave Sharon a small smile, his eyes on the red skin at her eye. He joked and pointed with a nod, "That's quite the shiner you're working on there, Captain."

Sharon turned her head, acknowledging Andy's presence with a lifted eyebrow and a small upturn of her mouth. The gesture, however, seemed to pain her judging from the compressed mouth and the small hiss she emitted.

The right side of her lower chin was grazed as well, Andy noted, small pebbles of blood drying up.

"You should see the other guy," Sharon joked back, her eyes momentarily on Andy with a small glint.

Andy smiled wider and he felt the heavy weight in his chest lifting completely. Goddamn, but he felt like kissing her. He almost didn't care about everyone else witnessing it. Her manner eased up his fear and untied the knot in his stomach.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught the roses that lay in a heap on the concrete ground, petals strewn across the ground and some stems broken in half. He tilted his head at the fallen roses, "Don't care much for roses, huh?"

Sharon hid her smile well, but he caught the small curving of her mouth. Provenza on the other hand, directed his glare at Andy.

Andy shrugged; he would rather make her smile and laugh than work his temper up. The situation was handled and now it was just the aftermath. That he could deal with.

"Can we return to what happened right after you confronted Mr. Hunt?" Sergeant Stapples interrupted the conversation, his eyes on Andy with curiosity.

Sharon looked back at Stapples, the glint of small mischief gone and replaced with a determined stare as she gave the rest of her statement. Her voice was neutral and in control, although she was still fiddling with her hands. Rusty intervened every now and then in her statement, repeating what he had seen from the car. The kid was glaring at the sergeant as well.

Andy sighed.

Sam Hunt was the name of the creep, or so the driver's license on the man showed. He must have been the one to deliver all the roses. Andy wondered if he was yet another one of Stroh's accomplices who had fallen victim to the lawyer's sleek manipulating.

If only it had been Stroh delivering the roses, that would have made everything easier. The only upside to the whole thing was that Hunt had to know something about the whereabouts of Philip Stroh. Julio went back to headquarters with patrol holding the creep. They would first document the broken nose on the man and any other injuries he might have gotten. Then they would let Hunt stew the night over in booking and question him in the morning.

Rusty seemed to pull in on himself during the interview of Sharon, he kept his eyes on her exclusively. The kid was shaking and cold when Andy put his hand on his shoulder. Andy kept his hand there for a moment and while squeezing, he leaned down and whispered, "You did good kid. Breathe, okay. It's over. She's okay now."

Rusty nodded but it seemed somewhat trancelike.

In the end, Stapples had his statements and Provenza secured two uniforms to watch Sharon's apartment during the night. Provenza went with Sharon back to headquarters where Doctor Morales waited to document and treat them her injuries. Andy took it upon himself to look after Rusty. The kid looked lost, his eyes following Sharon as she went with Provenza.

Andy guided the kid upstairs and put his hand on his shoulder again.

"C'mon, let's go make some tea."

Rusty nodded, but kept his head turned and his eyes on Sharon's retreating form, until they entered the elevator.

Once inside Sharon's apartment, Andy pulled a throw around Rusty and told the kid to sit down on the sofa. He then made the kid a large cup of tea and hoped the warm liquid would soothe some of Rusty's worries away.

"Thank you," Rusty said absentmindedly, staring at the warm cup in his hands.

"No worries," Andy said and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, his own cup of tea between his palms. He felt the warmth from it consolidating into quiet comfort.

The tea was one of Sharon's favorite blends; she even brought it with her into the office sometimes. Andy liked the scent of it more than he liked the taste. It reminded him of her in a strange way; reminded him of late nights at the office with the whole team working and Sharon either situated in her office, open doors and blinds, or standing out in the murder room observing the board.

"You alright?" Andy asked when Rusty had been quiet for a whole quarter of an hour.

The kid nodded unconvincingly.

"Just," Rusty sighed and turned around to regard Andy, "I should have done something."

"You called for back-up," Andy said, "You did what Sharon wanted you to do."

Rusty shrugged, "I just feel - I mean, I just feel like I could have done more."

"You did enough."

"I sat in the car, Lieutenant Flynn," Rusty snapped, his expression troubled, "I did nothing. I just watched, she could have died!"

"You called Provenza and you stayed in the car, so Sharon knew you would be safe. That's more than enough."

The kid looked down; he did not look entirely convinced.

"Hey," Andy said, his voice low and soft. He waited till Rusty looked up and when he had his eyes, he continued, "You did great."

"You think?"

Andy nodded, "I sure do."

"Oh, okay," Rusty let out in a breath.

"Anything else?" Andy pried. The kid still looked miserable.

Rusty shrugged.

"Rusty," Andy said with a small smile, "Sharon will be the first to say she's proud of you. You did great, okay, she will be fine, you did good."

The kid nodded, relief more visible in his expression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Are you staying for the night, Lieutenant Flynn?"

"Yeah," he replied and took a sip from the cup, scolding his tongue and making him hiss in pain. That got a small smile out of the kid and Andy smiled back.

Andy settled into the couch and closed his eyes briefly; the calm that came after feeling terror had a peculiar lively aftertaste.

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