A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews, you guys! Holy cow, I've got over 60... To tell you the truth, I didn't think I'd make it past 10. Thanks again for all your support!
There's something wrong with her, and he's worried. She isn't usually so quiet, so reserved, so... introverted. He can't stand to think that he's done something wrong again -- if he's made Sharona Fleming completely... completely renounce her personality, there'll be no forgiveness. No "Shut up, Adrian," or "God, Adrian," or "You okay, Adrian?" and he doesn't know what he'll do. She's been mad at him so often in such a short amount of time...
He's supposed to be working on a murder case. He's supposed to be focusing on a suspect's story, his alibi, but all he can see is her face from the corner of his eye. Worried. Nervous. Angry. Angry most of all -- it's her first reaction to anything and everything. When she loses a shoe, when she's late, when he's right... She just sits there, boiling over as the suspect keeps talking, as he pops open a beer, as he crunches the can between his gigantic hands and tosses it towards the garbage can.
It's a lot of emotion for such a... petite person.
"But a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, eh?"
The big... really big suspect stares at him through squinty little eyes and he nods weakly, not entirely sure what he's just been asked. He can feel her rolling her eyes next to him, though. It's not exactly a sensation he can ignore.
They leave right after that, headed purposefully towards her station wagon and her high heels clip angrily against the pavement. She slams her door, and before he can even buckle his safety belt she tears out into the road, radio blasting 80's rock music that he never bothered listening to. Oh, my God, he thinks to himself, panic slowly rising. Oh, my God, she's finally lost it!
He tries frantically to fasten his seat belt, thinking of horrible things he read in newspapers about car accidents and people being killed because they weren't "buckled up". And there's something else. They're not headed towards his place.
He finally manages to get the buckle into the other thingy when there's a mortifying screech of brakes and they stop moving. They're in front of her place, now, and she gets out of the car before he can say a word. It's still running. Doesn't she know how unsafe that is? But he doesn't have time to ponder her sanity any more as she reappears with Benjy, who climbs in the back seat.
"Hey, Mr. Monk!" he says enthusiastically, having no idea what hell the man in the front seat has just been through. "I'm glad you're comin' to my soccer game."
He smiles and turns to Sharona, who gives him the I Was Running Out of Time-Look.
Benjy can't stop grinning, and he hates it for some reason. They're not talking, not listening to the radio anymore -- she's not even driving insanely which just goes to show how concerned she is for his safety... He's the one who pays her to keep him safe, not her son -- and Benjy just smiles, happily knotting his soccer cleats.
But he can't watch that, either, because kids tie things all wrong and uneven...
She calmly turns the steering wheel to the left and they pull into the parking lot of a park. A park with untamed grass and a jungle-gym with chipped paint and uneven goal... goal things at either end of a large stretch of wild lawn.
Adults and uniform-clad children are huddled together by different colors, each standing in front of the menacing, crooked, bending goal things. He covers his eyes with one hand, not daring to watch as Benjy climbs out of the car and darts hapharzardly towards his fellows in blue. A zig-zag path torn across the grass. He'll be able to see it forever, it'll haunt his nightmares.
She pokes his shoulder and he moves one finger, adjusting his position so that all he can see is her face. She Looks questioningly at him, raised eyebrows and... and kind of frowning.
"You coming?" she asks.
"Um... No, I don't think so," he says. "I... I can watch from here, right?"
Worried and Nervous and Mostly Angry come back into her eyes, and he moves his finger back so that he won't be able to see it. That doesn't end up working. He can feel her grab the seatbelt buckle and press the release button, he hears her exiting the car, he feels the passenger door open and her hands around his arm and --
"Wh... What are you doing?" he asks, feeling incredulous and minorly horrified.
He can feel her smiling to herself. "Helping you outta the car, Adrian."
His hand falls to his side again and he gives her the angriest look he can manage in such a state of shock.
"Are you serious?!"
"Yeah,"
His feet hit the asphalt and he inhales sharply. "Sharona... it's all wrong... I can't be out here, it's..."
"Imperfect?" she asks, and raises her eyebrows. "Come on, you've handled worse."
She grabs his hand and literally pulls him across the field, and his heart is pounding and he keeps his eyes closed, completely trusting her not to let him hit anything. He tries to resist, but his shoes were not made to stop him from being forced into watching a distorted soccer game in an imperfect setting with Sharona.
She stops moving, and he opens his eyes to the field with her fingernails continuing to gently pinch his skin.
And Benjy keeps smiling.
He can't stand it. He can feel his insides twisting up and several gray hairs getting ready to sprout just by standing in that one spot and observing the Park from Hell. He tries to run away a couple of times, but she's still got a firm hold on his hand. He tries distracting her, he tries begging and pleading and all sorts of humiliating efforts just to go back to the station wagon and sit with his eyes covered.
She's too smart for him, though, and keeps repeating the same well-worn phrase:
"Stop it, Adrian."
"But Sharona..."
"Stop it, Adrian."
"You're making me sweaty, Sharona. Let go of my hand."
"Shut up Adrian, a little sweat never hurt anybody."
He's sure that isn't true, but he remembers the Mostly Angry feelings she's been having and shuts up, squinting around at the blue and yellow uniforms in hopes that he'll forget how wrong everything here is.
People cheer. He asks her if something's happened, she explains that the game's over and finally releases his hand. He sprints back to the car, overjoyed.
When they're all settled in, Benjy pops his head up between the seats and gives his mother a kiss on the cheek.
"Mom," he says. "Can Mr. Monk come over for dinner?"
They both look at each other uncertainly.
"Well, I don't think..."
"I -- I have a lot that I need to..."
The kid gives her the same look she gives her boss when she wants to do something really badly.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease? I'll do the dishes for a week..."
He lets the offer hang in midair, just the way she does and she gives him a Look.
"You want to come over for dinner?" she asks.