"Tell me again why this is called a holiday ball in the middle of October?" Jack asked as he stood by the mirror and tied his tie. Sharon walked over and stood in front of him, as close as she could get at just over 30 weeks pregnant, and she put her arms on his, and gave him a warm smile.
"I've told you that the department is extremely busy in December. I really don't want to go to this thing, either, Jack, but I have to go. My department requires it. Besides," she said, running her hands up his arms as she looked up at him, "we've hardly seen each other the last month. Your case has been consuming all of your time, my work has been busy, and with Bernie's visit-"
He nodded, glancing toward the door, "She's always lurking," he whispered to Sharon. She grinned and leaned up to give him a quick kiss.
"She's not always lurking, and thanks to her visit, we don't have to pay for a babysitter. Besides, this will more than likely be the last big event before the baby comes," she gestured to herself. Jack looked down at her swollen stomach and frowned.
"I have my work holiday party in December. It would be good if you go," he told her. She nodded, wincing as she reached to her side. He met her gaze, "Kicking?"
"Yes," she said, almost breathless. "That one hurt. As far as your holiday party, I told you that I plan to go. December, Jack. You and I both know the baby can come at any point then. Emily was a week and a half early. Going by that, I don't think I'd make your party."
"We'll see," he said, leaning over to kiss her head. "Your dress looks nice."
Sharon sighed and stood back to run her hands down her side. She frowned and looked to him, "The dress was about the only thing I could find. It's okay, not my favorite," she said, as she looked again at her halter style black long dress. It was also a tighter fitting maternity dress, but she hadn't found anything else for this dinner. She would have preferred something looser fitting. "I look so fat. I feel like a thousand-pound bowling ball is in there. I'm still worried about the size of the baby, Jack." She ran her hand over the tight dress, her stomach looking exactly like a bowling ball. She looked good, just a huge rounding stomach, but not much weight anywhere else. Jack scratched his head and gave her an odd look.
"We'll have another check on Monday, Sharon. They've said that babies have growth spurts at different times." They'd been to several appointments and scans, more than normal, because the baby continued to measure on the small side. The doctor was going to check again this week, but right now, all other tests and things looked normal. "I mean, yeah, the baby doesn't look small," he nodded.
She grimaced, "Yes, thank, you. I do look fat then."
"No," he said, pulling at her arm, but she'd turned away and started for their bedroom door, which was open. At that moment, her aunt walked by with Emily following behind.
"You look beautiful, Sharon," Bernie stopped just down the hall and turned to her. "My, my, your mother would love to see you. You're glowing."
"It's the hot flashes," Sharon said, blowing out her breath. "Whew, I can't believe another nine or so weeks of this. I also can't believe I'm in heels. They are killing me already."
"Wear your flats," Jack offered as he stepped into the room. He had on a black suit and a dark green tie. Sharon had told him a few times how handsome he looked. He'd just had his 30th birthday the week prior, and Emily had turned two three weeks before that. He already had a few specks of silver showing in his hair, which was early, but Sharon knew his dad was completely gray by the time he was 38. She loved his look; she was still so much in love with him.
"I'm not wearing flats with this dress, Jack," Sharon sighed and shook her head at her aunt. "You tell him, Bernie."
Bernie held up her hands, "Oh no, I'm with Jack on that. I am not one for heels, but you look great."
"I'll start the car," Jack nodded to the women. He didn't dislike Sharon's aunt, but he didn't know her well either. She wasn't fond of him, especially knowing of his past. Sharon had told Bernie everything, including the story of the baby, and while Bernie was heartbroken hearing about all of it, she wasn't one to comment; she'd not married and would not offer advice. She'd told Sharon that she wasn't Sharon and couldn't fault her for trying to have the best for her family.
"I'll be right out, Jack," Sharon called, running her hand over her stomach again. She turned back to her aunt, and Emily was there, wanting to be picked up. Sharon did, and she kissed her daughter's cheek.
"You have fun with Aunt Bernie, okay? Mommy and Daddy will be home later," she said, kissing her again.
"You two have a nice time," Bernie patted Sharon's arm. "You've hardly had any time off my whole trip," Bernie told her. "You're working too hard, Sharon. I might not have had kids, but I know that's not good for you or the baby. Let Jack pamper you tonight. Stay off your feet."
"There's dancing," Sharon smiled. "You know I love that."
"Yes, I do," she nodded. "Oh, your mom would love this. I know I've said it, but she would. Go on, now," she encouraged. "Emily and I are going to have our own fancy dinner of hotdogs."
Sharon grinned, and soon, she and Jack were arriving at the holiday ball. Sharon introduced him to several of her colleagues, but eventually, he grew bored and made his way to the bar. Sharon, trying to stay off her feet, sat at their assigned table as much as she could, but she eventually got frustrated Jack was still at the bar and went to find him.
"Oh, hey," he said, wrapping his arm around her as she walked up to him. "Talking to some great guys, here, Shar. We've had a great time."
"Yes, good," Sharon said, giving him a small smile. "How many drinks have you had?" She looked to the bar top, counting the glasses.
"Three, but hey," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. She made a face. He smelled like Scotch, "You can't drink, so I'll drink for both of us. You can drive us home. I'm fine, Shar. I've had to go to all of these work dinners, you know. Three drinks is nothing," he waved. "I'm good. Besides," he leaned in closer to her ear, "this thing is so boring otherwise. I need something to keep me awake until we get home, and I can peel that dress off you," he said, looking her up and down. She pushed away slightly and frowned.
"I think you need to be done with your drinks. I'd like you somewhat sober to meet people, and as far as tonight, I'm really not in the mood, Jack. I haven't been. I'm sorry, but this pregnancy anymore is just taking everything I have." He listened, but then, he turned and gestured to the bartender for another drink. Sharon pursed her lips. Jack turned and winked.
"Just one more, Shar. Come on, let me enjoy something tonight now," he pleaded. Sharon sighed.
"I'll be at the table, Jack. Dinner is being served soon. After that, I'll be ready to go," she explained, and with that, turned to head to the table.
Much later, when they were finally arriving back at home, Jack was almost stumbling to the front door. Sharon could barely help him with her condition, and thankfully, Bernie saw they were home and had turned on the light and opened the door.
"Is he drunk?" Bernie asked. Sharon rolled her eyes and nodded.
"Just enjoying the evening, not drunk," Jack told them. "Full capabilities and all. Hello, Bernie," he said, flashing a smile.
"Sharon, your work called. They gave me information for you when you got home. They need you to go to an officer involved incident. Do you not have your pager?" Bernie asked, handing her the paper there on the front steps. Sharon looked around.
"Oh, my bag is still in the car. It's in there." She looked around, trying to decide what to do. She let out her breath, "I guess I'll just go like this. No reason to change. I've got my coat on anyways. Jack, are you okay to get inside?"
"I'll go to bed," he waved. "You go," he told her. Sharon looked to Bernie, and the two had an almost understanding that Bernie would check on Jack.
"Right, well, I'll get going," she said, looking at the paper. "Downtown, great. Might be a late night," she said. "These idiots. I'm sure it's related to the dinner we just had. My sergeant warned me about it, saying that nothing good came from gathering a bunch of drunk cops."
"Be careful," Bernie called. Jack turned and kissed her cheek. He still smelled of Scotch, and she couldn't stand that smell right now with her pregnancy. She waved at them and started to head to work.
Sharon sighed to herself a half hour later when she pulled into the dingy bar. She was really getting sick of these places. Why did cops always turn up here doing something stupid? She didn't have much information from her aunt's message, very grateful for the message, but the message only said 'officer involved incident' so she didn't know more. Thankfully, her briefcase was still in her car, so she collected it, buttoned her coat, and she started for the door. Her coat wasn't a maternity one, so she couldn't button all of it, but it was a trench coat. She could button the top couple of buttons and leave the rest open, as she did. The last thing she needed was someone ogling her in a dingy bar dressed as she was. She also sighed as she started to walk, realizing that she was still in her killer heels. She really didn't want those for work, considering she would likely be on her feet a couple hours, and well, it wasn't exactly the look she was going for in a cop bar, a black evening dress with a halter top cut and high heels. She made sure her buttons were done on the coat, at least as many as she could button.
There were three squad cars already there, and she made a face at that. In her time now with IA, she'd discovered that it was almost a rule of one squad car per cop involved. She walked inside and saw that the officers had a handle on things on one side of the bar. One officer was on the other side of the bar with what she assumed were the customers who had witnessed anything. Sharon walked up to the officer in charge.
"Raydor, IA," she told him, flashing her badge, and he jotted down her information and nodded her in the right direction.
"Bar fight," he said. "Three of ours were fighting a couple guys here. From the sound of it, one of ours threw the first punch, drunk as all get out."
"Great," she sighed, and she started to work her way through the crowd, careful to not hit her stomach on anything or anyone.
"What's the report?" Sharon asked when she greeted the officer writing up things. It was another female, and she looked over to Sharon, and her eyes widened at her stomach. Sharon eyed her, "Raydor, IA, and I'm perfectly fine to be here. You?"
"Henderson," she nodded. "No disrespect, Ma'am, just didn't well, ahh, you're coming from the holiday dinner, I suppose, dressed up like that."
"Yes, and the story here?" Sharon asked again.
"Right, yes, three of our own came from the same dinner, but from what they said, I'm not sure if they were actually at the dinner. They said they got a drink there and ducked out before it really started. They've been here for hours, and all three are drunk. Bar fight, but no other details that I have at the moment."
Sharon started to work on her report, and finally, she was given access to the three officers. They had them separated in the back offices. When she finished speaking to the first, she walked into the second office and almost did a double take.
"You, you're involved in this?" Sharon hissed, stepping into the room. She closed the door partially, but she did leave it open to the hallway. The other officers on the scene were still milling around. "What is wrong with you?"
Andy, the man she barely knew but was carrying a child with half his DNA was sitting there in the chair, his shirt mostly open, blood on it, and he looked up, nursing an already bruised eye. It would be black and blue in the morning. His hair was a mess, and he smelled completely of alcohol.
"It's you," he pointed to her, still slurring his words a little. Sharon quickly moved to a chair near him to sit down. She was flustered, knowing he was a cop, but never in her mind expecting to see him again, let alone have him as one of the officers she needed to investigate. "Been a long time-"
"Yes," she hissed, snapping open her folder. She started to write and take her notes, "You're Detective Flynn, Andrew Flynn? You started it, the fight?"
"Not saying a word," he shook his head. "I know I can speak to my rep. You're IA now? They said IA was coming in here. Sharon, right?" He groaned and closed his eyes, nursing the black eye. He looked awful, and if she didn't know it was a bar fight, she would have suspected he'd been mugged or something.
"I am Sharon Raydor, IA, and yes, that's your right to counsel," she pursed her lips and tried to consider what else to say. "You don't want to speak to me now, fine, but unless the others drop the charges, you are looking at some trouble with work. I will have to check into more of your file in the morning."
"One other incident," he waved, "about a month, month and a half ago. Look, the guy tonight had it coming, but that's all I'm going to say," he said, his eyes closed. She guessed that he had a headache from the alcohol and the punch to the face.
"Well, you need to clean up yourself," she said as she stood, disgusted that he was in the state he was. "Your face is covered in dried blood. You have blood on your shirt, most likely from your nose, which looks like it is broken. You smell of alcohol, and your hair looks like it hasn't seen shampoo in weeks."
"You should see the other guy," he chuckled. "Man, can't believe you're on my case. What are the chances, huh? Well, at least I know you will give me a fair shake, and for what it's worth, if you think I look bad," he said, finally sitting up and opening his eyes, "you should see the other guy."
Sharon, now standing, with her paperwork her arms, looked down at him with a look of disgust. At that moment, he smiled at her and reached out to her, "Hey, your pregnant, huh?" He patted at her stomach, and she smacked at his hand and stepped back.
"Get your hands off me, now," she said in a totally disgusted tone.
"Hey, sorry," he said, "really, I am. I know I'm still really drunk, but I do remember a couple times when you wanted me touching you, every bit of you," he tried to smile, but winced at the pain.
Sharon smoothed her dress and felt herself blushing. He looked over to her again, and he nodded, "Sorry to involve you in my mess."
"I can ask another cover your case due to ahh, ahh, personal reasons if you decide," she stated.
"Nah, it's fine," he sighed. "Like I said, you'll give me a fair shake."
"My office, tomorrow morning, 10:30," she told him, giving him her card. "Don't be late. It won't go well for you."
"I'll be there," he said, glancing up at her as he squinted through his bruising eyes. "So, you-" he gestured to her his hand moving up and down toward her, and she started to panic, feeling the sweat beading on her.
She cut him off before he could start to have any moment of clarity, "My husband and I got back together. I'll see you at 10:30," and with that, she spun around and moved out of the room quickly. Before seeing the third officer, she excused herself to the bathroom. It was dingy, but she needed the escape.
Sharon locked the door and sunk back against it, cradling her large stomach. Crap! She wasn't prepared to run into HIM. For months now, she'd talked herself into the idea of this being Jack's baby, their new start. It WAS Jack's baby as far as she and her husband were concerned, but she now had to deal with HIM, her big mistake?
He clearly was a mess himself, and as she thought about it, she wasn't surprised at the drinking problem. On the two occasions she had been with him, there had been beer bottles all over the place. He'd seemed so nice, and really, he probably was. He was even pleasant in the room just now, except for putting his hands on her, on the baby. If he only knew.
Sharon collected herself, and she stood to splash some water on her face. She was a professional. She could do this. He clearly didn't link anything and had bigger problems on his plate. Jack-should she mention this to him? She'd told Jack the guy was a cop. What good would this do? If anything, she was worried Jack would get jealous now, and she didn't want or need that. There was no reason to be jealous. He was stressed enough with work, and things were going fine with them. No, this was her job. IA was a lot of keeping things private, and she'd do that here. She wouldn't tell Jack. Just as his job required him to keep quiet about things, she knew her job had some of the same expectations.
Tomorrow, she'd do her job. She'd pull his file, and she'd figure out his fate. It was sounding like the charges might be dropped; things did not look good for either side involved in this mess, so that was a plus. She'd hand Andy the consequence of his actions. She looked down at her swollen stomach, realizing in some ways, she had been handed the consequence of her own actions, just in a different way.