This is an add-on that had never quite made the cut, but recently I've taken the time to edit it and make it presentable. It follows Sharon right after Andy's heart attack, and is much more dramatic, and longer, than what I had ultimately posted for this epi. It's a lot of feels with a touch of humor, and plenty of love. I hope you give it a read and enjoy it. :)


To say that it had been a rough couple of days for Sharon would be an understatement. She had spent most of them at the hospital, holding vigil over Andy even when he wasn't in his room but taken to God knew where for tests, or when he just slept, blissfully unaware of the terror he had wreaked on everyone who cared about him. The padded chair a kind nurse had given her to place next to Andy's bed would not get rid of her body's imprint any time soon, and the tiled floor of the hallway in front of his room was probably one more pace short of forever carrying her footprints.

It was at her children's behest, the morning following Andy's collapse, that she agreed to going home. He was out of the woods according to the doctors, but it would be a while before he woke and even longer before he woke for properly lucid moments. She should take advantage of that.

"Andy needs some clothes and toiletries, and I sure as hell am not going through his stuff," Rusty told her, exaggerating a disgusted grimace.

"You'll want a shower and a change of clothes, too," was one of Ricky's arguments.

But it had been Emily's most sensible words, that finally convinced her. "You can't do anything for him if you run yourself ragged, Mom."

So despite physically aching at even the thought of leaving his side, even though someone else would take her spot until she returned, she had promised Andy's sleeping form to be back soon later that same morning, and gone home to catch a few hours of sleep in her own bed.

It hadn't gone well.

She'd spent the few hours, or perhaps it was just one, time was a relative term just then, choking on her fear and panic, drowning in dry tears that did not offer any release, but merely increased the heaviness in her heart with which she left Andy at the hospital. Closing her eyes did not coat her vision in oblivious darkness, but in images of Andy collapsing against the wall of her office, of his hold on her hands slackening as he lost consciousness just as the EMTs arrived, of the frantic work they had done as she rode with them in the ambulance to the hospital, of being stopped by a nurse when she made to follow Andy into 'staff only' territory, and worst of all, of the paralyzing dread that the doctor would come out and start their update with 'I'm sorry…' These images had plagued her at the hospital as well, only there she could open her eyes and see the steady rise and fall of Andy's chest with each breath he took, hear the rhythmical beep of the machine that mirrored Andy's heartbeat, feel the comforting warmth of his hand when she slipped her fingers between his—all indisputable proof that Andy hadn't left her yet.

When she opened her eyes at home, all she was met with were traces of him.

With no small amount of irony, she realized it hadn't been this hard the first time she'd gone through this.

The first time around, Andy had only left marks on her heart and soul. He wasn't there everywhere. He wasn't there in the pillow that so distinctly carried his scent. He wasn't there in that half of her closet they now shared. He wasn't there in the phone charger next to the nightstand that he forever kept forgetting to unplug. He wasn't there in the bathroom with just his toothbrush and a razor. His green bathrobe had since taken permanent residence there, and an entire shelf-worth of his products joined hers. And that was just him in their bedroom and bathroom...

The thought of facing his fingerprints on the rest of the condo nearly broke her completely. Because the question 'What if that's all that's left of him?' inevitably followed, and the moment it had crossed her mind, she had been out of bed and back in the hospital by his unconscious side.

It had been her first and last trip home since.

He'd woken since, too, thankfully. It was a mild myocardial infarction after all, but he had been pumped full of medication she couldn't even count, much less name, and it kept him exhausted and groggy even as some of their purpose was to give him and his heart the desperately needed rest in order to heal. So she hadn't spoken to him much. Only long enough to feel a fraction of the weight that pressed suffocatingly against her chest lift when he opened his eyes, managed a half-smile and hoarsely said, "Hey, you." Only enough to giggle teary-eyed at his grumbling over yet another hospital stay. Only enough for him to promise he'd be right back, he 'just needed to rest his eyes.' Only enough for them both to remind each other how very much they loved one another.

It wasn't nearly enough.

That evening, a gentle knock at the door had interrupted the nap she had unintentionally slipped into. She had instinctively smiled at her and Andy's intertwined fingers, for the briefest of moments hopeful that he had woken again, before realizing that wasn't the case, and remembering clutching to it as she prayed for his recovery until she fell asleep. When she had turned around and seen her visitor, she decided even though it wasn't the answer to her prayer she was looking for, that He had most definitely been listening.

"Father Stan," she more whispered than actually voiced, shifting in her chair to stand up and greet the man.

He waved a hand at her. There was no need to stand up on his account. "I heard what happened," he walked up to her at Andy's bed, an arm both supportively and worriedly briefly squeezing her shoulder, "how is he?"

Sharon smiled reflexively, having lost count of the times someone asked her that in the past twenty-four hours. She took Andy's hand again, her thumb running across his knuckles. "He should be a lot better tomorrow," she told him, not elaborating at the priest's questioning look, wondering whether this was fact or her own private hope.

He didn't pry further. "And you?" he asked instead.

"I'll be better then, too, Father," she answered simply, her gaze dead set on Andy's hand.

At that, the priest frowned. It was almost palpable that he would be insisting on an elaboration that time. At his unimpressed, "That wasn't my question," Sharon smiled again, if feebly, somewhat comforted by the rather predictable behavior of her decades long friend and confidant.

She continued avoiding his gaze though, worried that what fragile control over her emotions she had regained would vanish. She gave him an honest, if amended answer, however, her voice too thick and too unsteady for either of their liking. "Terrified." After a quick breath, she added two more words. "Desperate. Angry."

The last word lifted the good priest's eyebrow. "Angry?"

Forgetting her earlier worry, she shot him an indignant look at that, her reply somewhat biting. "Yes."

He smiled softly, not at all insulted by her misdirecting her frustrations at him. He also knew Sharon wasn't one of those people who posed the unanswerable questions of 'why' or 'why me'. She had long ago stopped blaming God for her hardships. "A lot has been thrown at you lately, Sharon," he told her, the gentle tilt of his head nothing if not patient.

When she scoffed at that, he knew just how rattled she was. Her broken answer, as she redirected her gaze at Andy, merely corroborated that truth. "Too much, Father."

"Sounds to me like you're just tired," he told her matter-of-factly, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Aren't I deserving of a break?"

An extended pause preceded her words, their final utterance her most quiet and strangled one yet. These facts spoke of one thing; this wasn't about a quid pro quo relationship with their God, she wasn't expecting God to constantly reward her goodness.

His thoughts were interrupted when she added, more vehemently, but no more loudly, "Aren't we?"

He heard her true question. 'Isn't he?' He nearly smiled again, because no, quid pro quo had nothing to do with this. Of the few faults she had, selfishness was not one of them.

"Perhaps this is your break."

It was in moments like these that Father Stan understood why and just how very good Sharon was at her job. There was a nearly scalding fury in the look she slapped him with. For a split second, he found himself appreciating the added barrier usually provided by his church's confessional. How many of these had he missed thanks to it? However, just as quickly as the fiery emotion flashed in her eyes, a new, more contemplative one flitted across the rest of her features.

On a sigh, she ghosted her fingers along Andy's fingertips, her tone nearly regretful. "He does try so very hard to take care of himself."

He didn't feel it necessary to list what else had been going on in their lives, be it on professional and personal fronts. He opted for getting to the crux of it. "Perhaps there is something as too much of a good thing. And maybe," he waved a hand around the room, encompassing both everything and nothing, "some things are more out of balance than you thought they were."

She glanced at him at that, guiltily. Her response was rather sarcastic, however. "Are you suggesting retirement?"

He outright laughed at that. "I would never dare even think it," he responded with exaggerated nervousness. "But," he sobered somewhat, leaning a bit forward to keep her eye, "you can't disagree when I say there is a limit to the amount of stress you can take." He quirked an eyebrow challengingly, his expression verging on a smirk, and added, "The both of you."

She slumped into her chair, not in sudden realization, but simply in defeat. "I know," she said on another sigh that added that she didn't see that amount diminishing any time soon, certainly not now when their case was closed and the battle for Assistant Chief of Police would start in full force.

How they dealt with the consequences of Andy's heart attack, Father Stan would leave to them to figure out. If they needed counsel, they knew where to find him, so when Sharon lapsed into silence, he left it at that and instead asked, half-teasingly, "Still angry?"

She scoffed out a chuckle, then tilted her head to the side, a small, nearly amused smile tugging at her lips as she regarded him. In lieu of a proper answer, she lifted a single shoulder, then said appreciatively, "But thank you, Father."

He glanced at the man prone on the bed, truly wishing him a speedy recovery. "Anything I can do to help…" he trailed off, the words both a brushing off of her thanks and an offer.

In the day and a half of Andy's hospitalization, the team, their colleagues and friends, but most of all Provenza (and Patrice), checked in as often as they could, be it in person, via text messages, or calls. They had barely closed one when another case opened, and with two of their squad's officers on leave, they had their hands full, but nobody said a word when Sharon announced Provenza was in charge until she was able to leave Andy's side. In fact, if she hadn't done so, they most likely would have kicked her out of the murder room themselves.

Her children, of course, had been by their side as well. Rusty, that blessed boy who had been so disgusted when his mother brought up 'overnight guests', had been right along with her in that hallway that first evening, pacing a hole into the floor as if trying to speed up time. Since she'd returned from the condo, he'd made sure she ate, because Lord knew, food was the last thing on her mind, and even when it was, appetite rarely went with it. Her other two children hadn't been able to drop everything right away, nor did she expect them to, but her phone had been abuzz with constant inquiries into both her and Andy's status. Today, she hadn't exchanged more than a couple of texts with them, but that was because they were both on route to LA. Despite her argument that there was no need to put such a dent in their budgets, for Andy was going to be okay, they wouldn't budge.

"Mom, you're not the only one who cares about him, you know," Ricky told her, then cleared his throat to add, rather awkwardly by the sound of him, "we do, too."

She could have cried right then and there. Her resistance vanished instantly.

One of Andy's most important visitors, however, walked into his hospital room just now. Sharon hadn't even heard the door, but startled at the feel of a small hand on her shoulder, a soft, "Hi, Sharon, how's he doing?" on its owner's lips.

Andy's daughter had rushed to the hospital the second she'd gotten the call from Sharon about what had happened. Sharon did not know this, but she had sounded so shaken up, so unlike her usual cool, calm and collected self, that that alone had put Nicole into panic mode, even before she was told what exactly was going on. Andy's son had had a bit of a drive ahead of him, but even he had been there that same evening, despite the by then criminally late hour. Their worry had rivaled her, Rusty and Provenza's combined, and Sharon's heart had cracked at the sight of them, sitting next to each other in an embrace that probably offered only very little comfort as they waited for the doctor's news. For a moment she was able to picture them as the young, sweet, innocent children who worshiped their father, whom Andy so fondly spoke of, and whose lives he had so wished to have been a bigger, less disappointing part of. Sharon remembered thinking how very happy he would have been to see just how much they had grown to care for him again, how very far he had come in his everlasting efforts to make up for past mistakes, and most importantly, for lost time.

None of them were ready for time to run out just yet.

Sharon covered Nicole's hand, squeezing it briefly in greeting before the younger woman stood to her side to try to find an answer to her question herself. "The doctor's weaning him off his meds," Sharon finally said, a tired, hopeful little smile on her face as she watched the relaxed features of his face. "He should be awake soon, and hopefully well enough to start working on getting out of here."

Walking over to the other side of the room, where another chair was, Nicole chuckled. "Oh, he will be good to start working on that," she said confidently, then carried the chair over to Sharon to take a seat.

Sharon smiled, then took Andy's hand and said on a sigh, "I know."

Nicole inclined her head to give Sharon a concerned once over. Her posture, though as perfect as ever, held just enough tension to hint at exhaustion. Her makeup hid the pale pallor of her skin, but the rims of her glasses did a poor job of hiding the heaviness in her eyelids that spoke of worry and more fatigue. She placed a hand gently over her elbow. "Are you okay?"

Meeting her gaze slowly, Sharon took a breath. "I'm fine." Even to her own ears she sounded unconvincing, but she lacked the energy to give it another try.

Nicole didn't believe her, but let go of Sharon's elbow without pushing. Instead, she redirected her focus on her father, and said quietly, "It wasn't like this when he had that blood clot."

Sharon agreed, even if she knew the sentiment was shared due to different reasons. "No, it wasn't."

Nicole merely talked over her, seemingly lost in thought. "I was worried, of course, but not like this." She shrugged, whatever other thoughts swirled around her head going unvoiced, until she added, as if in explanation, "Guess it wasn't a heart attack back then."

"You weren't here last time either," Sharon said simply, her words not at all accusatory, but she coincidentally swiped a thumb soothingly over Andy's hand as if to soften her words anyway.

Nicole didn't take offense either. She sighed, nodding. "No, I wasn't." The words were regretful.

"How's Nate?" Sharon asked, knowing her brother had to return to work that day.

"Worried," Nicole answered on a shrug, then suddenly chuckled a little, mirthlessly. "He threw a bit of a tantrum last night, too."

Sharon's eyebrows lifted and she looked at Nicole. "Why?"

Nicole smoothed out the sheet covering her father's legs. "He's angry with Dad," she said simply.

Sharon nearly snorted. Andy's son was almost always angry with him, even when they got along nearly splendidly.

Nicole caught Sharon's suppressed reaction, then rolled her eyes. "I know, right?"

At that Sharon finally chuckled. "What did Andy," her eyes fell to their joined hands, "do to him this time?"

Nicole adopted a low, grumbling tone that not only was very reminiscent of her brother, but also very alike to their father. "Up and nearly died on us."

That put a bit of a damper on the momentarily lifted mood, despite the lighthearted intent. The corners of Sharon's mouth twitched before she started worrying the inside of her bottom lip. "That's a good reason to be mad at him," she eventually said.

Nicole huffed, not disagreeing. "Mom kinda said the same thing."

"She did?" Sharon asked, not so much surprised as intrigued.

Nicole smiled, a tad ruefully. "Yeah. She said not feeling angry, or anything really, would have been a lot worse."

Sharon hummed in agreement. Sandra and Andy may not have worked out, they have had their fair share of differences and fights, neither one innocent in the collapse of their marriage, but Sharon had learned that Sandra was a wise, sensible woman, even if Andy might sometimes argue otherwise. Nicole and Nathan's reaction to the current situation spoke volumes about their relationship with Andy, about how well they've mended fences and rebuilt the bonds that made them family. Indifference would have hurt Andy more than the heart attack he'd suffered. It would have hurt Nicole and Nathan just as much, whether they realized it right away or years later.

"She says hi, by the way," Nicole added, interrupting Sharon's musings. "Oh, and that you should wait for her so that you can both kick Dad's ass for this stunt."

"Oh," Sharon outright laughed, "I can't make any promises."

"Mom's aware," Nicole added, laughing a little herself, "said you're forgiven if you can't contain yourself."

"How very kind of her," Sharon said good naturedly.

Nicole rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Mom's a big person," he muttered sarcastically.

"She is," Sharon agreed, the sarcasm absent.

There was a lot she admired about Andy's former wife, mostly when it came to parallels in their respective past marriages. Sharon couldn't say she regretted her choices over the years, but Sandra did offer an example that posed that mean, treacherous, little question, 'What if…?' Sometimes, she succumbed to the need to answer it, imagine all the scenarios her decisions prevented from happening or caused to happen. Today, however, she was just glad one what-if didn't come to fruition. Andy was still there, and hopefully would be for a couple of decades more.

"You know," Nicole's tone indicated a change of topic, her hands lingering at the edge of Andy's sheets, "you never did answer my question."

Sharon frowned at her in confusion. "What question?"

Nicole smiled, no doubt reliving the awkward scenes that had followed that question the first time she posed it. "How you and Dad do it," she pointed a couple of fingers at their clasped hands, "this here, as opposed to work?"

Sharon's expression morphed into one of worry. It had been nearly two years since Nicole sought advice on that front. The topic had not come up since, unsurprisingly considering its uncomfortable fallout, but Sharon had also figured the matter had resolved itself. "Are you and Dean still struggling?"

"What?" Nicole shook her head quickly. "No, we've figured it out. Or well," her eyes flitted briefly to the ceiling, "we keep figuring it out, day in, day out." She lifted a single shoulder, her head tilting towards it. "I was just curious."

Sharon smiled brightly. "Then you've got your answer. We," her smile softened and she ran her fingers along Andy's, "muddle through it quite the same way." She eyed Nicole a tad sternly, adding, "With a few ground rules, of course."

Nicole chuckled, hiding her mouth behind the back of her hand. "Hard to believe dad follows any kind of rules."

"Oh," Sharon's voice lowered, but took on a humorous lilt, "it's hard work, I promise." When Nicole laughed again, she added, more seriously, "But really, he's rather very good at it."

Nicole hummed thoughtfully. "Since you've gotten your hands on him," she decided.

Sharon shook her head, disagreeing and not liking being given credit for Andy's successes. "No," her voice thinned as she also sighed, her gaze on her boyfriend again, "he likes to toe the line, your father, mostly because he hates feeling restricted in his ability to help or do the right thing," she nodded a little to herself, searching for the right words to make her point, "but when he's fighting for something good," she glanced at Nicole purposefully, "he mostly never crosses it." She briefly rolled her eyes. "Not intentionally anyway."

"You can't argue though," while Sharon's words perhaps made sense, Nicole wouldn't concede on one point, "that he's mellowed a little over the years."

"At work," Sharon started, considering, "maybe fractionally, although I think he's merely learned not to get on my bad side and as of recently," an amused smile crossed her features, "he may have put a little more effort into getting on my good side." When Nicole chuckled, she added, "But on a personal level… I've had that kind of insight only for the past five years or so."

Nicole scoffed, sounding so very much like her father when she mumbled, "I bet Provenza would agree with me."

"Oh," Sharon put up a finger, "he's mellowed for sure."

"You and the Lieutenant are that close?" Nicole asked, surprised.

"Oh, no, no," Sharon quickly replied, chuckling, "but Andy's told me more than enough."

"Ouch," Nicole grimaced, "I'm sure Provenza loves that, his boss knowing all his dirty little secrets." She snickered.

Sharon flashed Nicole a nearly wicked smile, agreeing with what was essentially an exaggeration. "I must say the insider knowledge does come in handy at times."

Nicole snorted. "No wonder you and Dad get along so well."

Sharon shrugged noncommittally. "Well," she dragged the word out a little, remembering Nicole's earlier words, "for the record, your dad got his hands on me long before I ever even considered getting mine on him." She made a face, her eyes doing half a roll. "If that makes sense."

"It does." Nicole giggled. "He's an acquired taste, huh?"

"Uhm," Sharon pursed her lips, somewhat disagreeing, "a lot was going on for a while," she shook off those bleak memories, then laughed self-deprecatingly, "but in reality I may have simply been disconcertingly obtuse. It took me embarrassingly long to catch up with the fact that..." she trailed off, flicking a hand through the air aimlessly, either not knowing what to say or whether she should share it with Nicole at all.

"The fact that he had a huge crush on you?" Nicole offered, grinning teasingly.

Sharon laughed, because looking back, that was precisely the case, if not even an understatement. "With the fact that the feeling was mutual," she corrected, smiling a tad guiltily at Nicole as she decided to share one tidbit more, "and that it was high time I gave into it."

"So he just finally wore you down?" Nicole asked on a chuckle.

Sharon quirked an eyebrow at her, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Your father is a rather persistent man."

"You mean he is a stubborn man," Nicole said, the smile she aimed at him revealing she very much knew what it was like to be at the receiving end of her father's determination, and that it was not necessarily a bad thing.

"Annoyingly so," Sharon grumbled, but there was also love in her tone.

"Takes one to know one."

The two women's eyes widened before their mouths spread into wide smiles, just as Andy opened his eyes.

"I'll get the nurse." Nicole was instantly on her feet.

Andy waved her off, his hand feeling way heavier than he remembered. "I'm fine, stay."

Nicole looked to Sharon, and when she, albeit slightly reluctantly nodded, she reclaimed her seat.

"How are you feeling?" Sharon asked softly, scooting to the edge of her chair and grabbing his hand with both of hers now.

He squeezed them. "Not as foggy as last night."

"Good," Sharon said, relieved. "You're not on as much medication anymore."

"Thank goodness," Andy muttered. "I wanna get out of here." As if to prove that he could, he propped himself up a little on his pillow.

The women exchanged a knowing look, then laughed.

"Soon, Dad," Nicole said, ignoring his suspiciously narrowed eyes.

He let out a low, "Hmm," then asked, "I heard I was stubborn?" His voice went up at the end, an extra dose of curiosity in the question.

"You did," Sharon confirmed without elaborating, smiling at him and his talkative mood only too happily.

Andy sought out his daughter. "What lies has she spewed?"

She laughed, more at Sharon's affronted glare than at his question, then patted his leg. "Only good things, Dad," she patted his leg again, "I promise."

His narrow-eyed gaze drifted to Sharon. "The very best," she quickly amended, even nodding curtly, making Nicole suppress a giggle.

He did not believe them. "We'll get back to that," he waved a hand at them, then slumped into the pillows, "when I stop feeling like I got hit by a bus."

"Well, they've unclogged your artery," Sharon said kindly, running a hand gently down his forearm, "the meds should be out of your system by midday, so," she squeezed his hand supportively, "you should be back to your old self soon enough."

When he nodded, and just looked at her softly, both lapsing into wordless conversation for a few moments, Nicole slowly got to her feet again. "I'll go find that nurse," she said, pointing a hand at the door, "give you two a minute."

Neither one argued—after all, this was their first opportunity to actually have a proper conversation—and Sharon smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

Nicole just nodded, but kissed her father's cheek with a murmured, "Glad you're up, Dad," before leaving.

Andy smiled. "Me too, Nic." When she closed the door behind her, he tugged on Sharon's hands, and focused on her. "You okay?"

She scoffed. "I will be once you're back home."

"You look terrible."

Sharon shook her head, flipping her hair to the side, a sarcastic laugh on her lips. "Why thank you."

"No," Andy reached over and placed his other hand on top of hers, "I mean, I'm sorry I worried you again."

A sudden wave of emotion swept over Sharon, because worry didn't even begin to cover what she had been feeling for the past two days, and relief only barely described what she was feeling just then, seeing him finally completely alert again. She inhaled sharply. "I'm just glad you're still," her voice cracked, "here."

There weren't as many tubes and wires attached to him as the last time he woke, so despite still feeling a little heavy, Andy shuffled to the side of his bed, and let go of her hand to take hold of her forearm. "Come here."

She stood long before he even voiced his invitation, and all but collapsed into his open arms when he did. What little grasp on her emotions she still had, disappeared when he wrapped her in his embrace, and she could no longer stop actual tears from falling.

"Not planning on going anywhere yet," he mumbled into her hair, then took a deep breath that soothed him as much as his arms soothed her.

Unable to say anything, she furrowed further into his neck and placed a kiss blindly somewhere just above his collarbone.

He responded in kind, his lips brushing against her hair. Knowing her, she had been soldiering on for everyone's benefit but hers, so he didn't say anything. He merely tightened his hold around her and allowed her the time and space she needed to finally let her tears out.

Seeing her come apart like this though, hurt him more than his collapse. It had never been his intention to worry her, or make her sad. It was with the exact opposite in mind that he had asked her out two years ago. He never intended for them to spend so much of their precious time together in hospitals. He only ever wanted to make her happy, love her, give her everything she deserved, and more. He never meant to cause her pain. He had sworn to himself to only ever protect her from it, even when she argued she didn't need him to.

And yet, here they were, both in pain as God threw them yet another curve ball to deal with. Squeezing his eyes shut against the immense guilt pooling behind his eyelids, he felt so helpless. Unable to do anything more, he simply continued holding onto her, hoping that at least allowing her this moment of release would bring him one step closer to forgiveness he knew she would insist he didn't need.

"I'm sorry," Sharon said once she managed to compose herself. She pushed herself up a little, one hand drying her cheeks while the other removed her glasses. "One minute I'm cracking jokes with Nicole," she glanced at the door, "the next-"

"Stop," Andy interrupted her uncharacteristic rambling. "I know it's been a rough couple of days," he added apologetically.

She met his gaze at that, smiling away his apology.

Without her glasses perched on her nose, what exactly he put her through became glaringly obvious. He had already put her through this ringer once, but what he saw now somehow seemed incomparable to his last stay in this hospital. He hated how the teary red clashed with the emerald color of her eyes, but it was the raw fear he detected in them that gripped his heart in a vice as painful as his heart attack.

It wasn't like this last time. What they meant to each other back then was much more precarious—felt, yes, but never voiced between them. They had made no promises of forever-afters to one another. They were not so out in the open. What they felt for each other was a tightly guarded secret meant to protect them from precisely this. Now, their hearts were so intricately linked, they were truly all in, and threats like these had the power to ruin them beyond repair forever.

That threat alone filled him with crippling dread. To know he had inadvertently caused her to actually live through it?

Desperate to make it go away for both of them, he acted on instinct, leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, unmoving, but forceful kiss meant to assure her he wasn't done in yet.

The contact drew a soft, broken little whimper out of her before she hummed and responded with equal fervor. When it seemed like he would pull back, the hand wrapped around her glasses found his stubbled cheek, prolonging the moment for a few more breaths, and when they finally did part, it was only to connect their foreheads instead. On a soft sigh, Sharon opened her eyes, less haunted now, and whispered, "I missed you."

He clasped her face, pulling away a little to smile at her before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Me, too. I love you."

Simply so happy, and oh so grateful that he really was more or less okay just the way the doctors kept telling her he would be, Sharon snuggled into his embrace again. "I love you, too, Andy." There would be plenty to face even before he was released out of hospital care, and even more once he was, but right now, all that mattered was being in one another's arms.

Their moment of peace was interrupted, however, by the door bursting open. They both startled at the sound, pulling apart slightly, and looked at the source only to find Andy's Doctor Liu walking toward them, not so much as a hello on her lips, and Nicole right behind her, wearing what was a genuinely guilty and apologetic grimace as she mouthed, 'I'm sorry.'

Sharon shook her head at Nicole, waving off her apology with the glasses she still held, and slipped out of bed. She suppressed a smile and squeezed Andy's arm supportively when he flopped his head down on his pillow in instant annoyance. When Doctor Liu spoke, loudly enough for half the floor to hear, she winced.

"So, Mr. Flynn," the Doctor flipped the chart in her hands, scanning through Andy's information, "let's see how long we'll be hanging out this time," she looked up, and raised her voice another notch, "shall we?"

Andy frowned at her yelling, but at the prospect of spending even a minute with her, he groaned. "Oh, God, I've died and gone to hell."

Nicole and Sharon burst out laughing.