TWENTY
A full week had passed since their initial interview with Richardson when Flynn finally returned to work. He was late, so the team was already assembled, looking rested after an uneventful weekend. It was immediately apparent that the day had been slow-going so far and that there was no case to be worked right away since Provenza was devouring a bright blue donut and solving a crossword puzzle while Tao looked on in mild horror. Sanchez was tidying the murder board, sorting the photos and documents of their most recent cases into boxes.
Andy watched photos of Elliott and Richardson disappear inside, soon to be buried under the lid of the storage container. It hadn't taken Chief Johnson long to get a confession out of Richardson even after his lawyer had arrived. It seemed that Richardson was hoping for a deal, so he had ended up being quite cooperative. He had even supplied the final piece of information that tied up their case with a neat little bow: Richardson lived in the same small town Elliott's summer house was in and the two of them had known each other as teenagers. Their acquaintance in the past at least explained why Elliott had trusted him enough to tell him about his mental health issues. His trust, of course, had been badly misplaced in the end.
Andy gave the others a wave and headed towards the break room like every morning to get a cup of coffee. He just wasn't himself before his second caffeine hit of the day. Someone had poured themselves last cup, so he prepared a fresh pot and waited for it to brew, immersed in his thoughts. Elliott's funeral had been a solemn affair. The Major Crimes squad had attended and so had the entirety of FID. Andy remembered them being grouped around Sharon, standing shoulder to shoulder as if they were trying to physically convey to those around them that they were closing ranks in a time of need. Andy had been left to watch Sharon from the other side of the aisle: She had been in uniform, her hair pulled back into a loose bun. Even despite her hat being pulled down and into her face, he had seen how pale and drawn she looked. She hadn't looked over even once during the entire service. As soon as it was over, she walked out and when he arrived outside the church, she was already gone.
With a sigh, he poured his coffee and blew on it as he walked back into the murder room and towards his desk. When he approached, he found that there was something on top of it that hadn't been there a week ago. Furrowing his brow, he looked around and found everyone suddenly very busy and not meeting his eyes, trying to hide their little smirks with little success. He went around his desk and sat down in his chair to find himself faced with a small teddy bear in a dodger's uniform.
Andy's heart sank at the sight of it and all that it implied. Looking up, he attempted a smile but probably failed miserably, because he could see his team mates' expectant faces fall immediately.
"I told you it was too early for presents like that," Provenza grumbled, conveniently vanishing behind his newspaper. Tao and Sanchez exchanged a worried glance while Gabriel shrunk into the background. The Chief was nowhere to be seen and that was just as well. She wasn't the type to be in on baby presents and would have made the whole affair even more awkward for it.
He picked up the small bear and looked at its blue jersey for a moment. Under different circumstances, he would have loved the little guy. Like this, it was only a reminder of how wrong things had gone.
Andy looked up. "Thanks guys," he said, but despite his attempt at a light tone, his voice sounded laden with grief even to himself. This was not the time or the setting that he would have chosen to explain what had happened over the past week, had he been inclined to talk about it at all. But for whatever it was worth, this was worse than anything he could have ever expected. He sat the bear back down and tried not to look at it while he switched on his computer.
"Um, is everything okay, Andy?" That was Tao, a father of three who had probably seen it all. Some part of Andy wanted to tell him everything, but another, stronger one didn't want to relive the pain.
"Yeah, fine," Andy said. "Look, that coffee is even worse than usual. I'm going to do a coffee run. Anyone want anything?"
His offer was met with looks of pity since everyone seemed to get that he was trying to get away from them and their questions as quickly as possible. Provenza ordered a latte while everyone else declined. Flynn grabbed his wallet and walked towards the elevators quickly, but still too slowly for his own liking. Once inside and away from their inquiring looks, at least he felt he could breathe again.
This was a mess. He needed to function. Couldn't hide in his room and pretend to be sick for weeks as he had done as a teenager when things were bad. Having spent the past few days in a daze, he had hoped to find some focus at work, but it seemed that the memories that had been plaguing him at home could not be left behind. They followed him wherever he went and he had been colossally stupid to hope otherwise.
When he woke up, the bed was empty. It took Andy a moment to remember where he was before he recognized Sharon's bedroom. The blankets on her side of the bed where crumpled, the sheets cool. Whenever she had left, it had been a while ago. The early morning light was cold and its brightness hurt his eyes when he opened the curtains. It was early, he realized when he glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Barely after seven. He had really hoped that Sharon would get more than just a few hours of sleep after the long night they'd had. Where was she anyway? Andy dressed quickly in the previous day's clothes and walked into the living room but found it empty, the balcony doors closed. The bathroom door had been open, he remembered, so that left the guest room. He opened its door and found it awash with sunlight, the blinds and curtains open. When his eyes had adjusted to the bright light, he was able to make out Sharon's form on the bed. She was on top of the covers, curled into a tight ball, asleep with her phone beside her. He had never been inside her guest room, Andy noticed. It was where her kids stayed when they came over, maybe even her useless husband back when she had still allowed him inside. He found it comfortable and cozy, the bed made up as if awaiting a visitor any day, but it still didn't explain why she would come here to sleep instead of staying in her own bed.
She stirred as if she had sensed his presence and he smiled at her when she raised her head from the pillow, her hair tangled and her eyes unfocused.
"Hey," he said more lightly than he felt. "Here you are."
He walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge, waiting for her to explain why he would find her here of all places. Sharon sat up gingerly, careful not to put any pressure on her hip. She didn't look very rested.
"I must have fallen asleep here," she sat in a raspy voice.
"What were you doing here in the first place?" he asked. "Was I snoring again?"
She didn't even smile at his joke. "No, I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to wake you, so I came here."
"Thanks for being so considerate," Andy said. "Do you want to come back to bed? It's early and we could use some sleep."
Sharon brushed an unruly strand of hair behind her ear and looked at him, her eyes full of sorrow. She hadn't been herself after watching Richardson's interview, had barely said a word on their way to her place. Andy had put it down to her being exhausted and traumatized and the previous days' events finally catching up with her now that it was all over. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. Something had fundamentally changed in her but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of him because he could almost feel her slipping away from him. Sharon had opened up to him over the past few weeks, but now he could see every single door closing again and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"No," she finally said. "I can't sleep here. I don't feel safe here anymore."
He got it. He really did. Someone had put a surveillance camera in her home and had taken and distributed pictures of a very private moment. Even a less private person than Sharon would feel that way. Her took her hand and placed a soft kiss in her palm.
"Do you want to go to my place instead?" he offered. "You might feel safer there."
The sudden sadness in her eyes was so profound that it took him off guard. She looked almost heartbroken and he couldn't for the life of him explain why. They were together, he was there for her, why did she look as if he was about to get up and leave?
"That is very kind of you, Andy," she said politely as you would to a well meaning acquaintance who just wasn't seeing the point. "but I don't think that will help."
Now he was beginning to get confused. Was she purposefully trying to run herself into the ground? She needed rest. If her fainting episode had been any indication, she was at the end of her rope.
"Sweetheart, you need some sleep," he said, unable to keep the helpless tone out of his voice. "Think of the baby."
Sharon drew back, deliberately bringing some physical distance between them. "That is all I am doing these days, Andy." She swallowed and he sensed that he was about to be hit with a hard truth before she had even said the words: "I took the job in Boston."
It felt as if the ground was opening up under Andy's feet. His head seemed to be spinning, his stomach was churning. This was not possible! They had grown so close, they had decided to have their child together, she couldn't just get up and leave for the other side of the country! Or had he decided that they would have that child together? Had there ever been any actual commitment from her side?
A breathless "what?" was all he could muster at first. "But Sharon…" He wanted to put that terrible feeling of loss into words, but failed miserably. Nothing seemed to be enough to describe the way it was ripping his heart apart.
"But why, Sharon? Richardson was caught, the case is closed! You're safe!"
She shook her head, looking at a spot beside his head. She seemed shaken and lost, but he could tell that there was also a great deal of resolve behind her decision.
"I don't feel safe, Andy. I don't feel safe in my own home. I don't feel safe at the LAPD. You saw the giant pile of files on people who hate me. If even Richardson, whom I don't even know, and Christian…" Her voice broke at the mention of Elliott and she cleared her throat to be able to continue. "If they are the ones who have it out for me, God knows how many others are waiting in the wings. I can't stay here. I just can't. As you said, I have my baby to think about."
Andy couldn't argue with her logic, but it didn't seem fair. Was she even considering his role in it at all?
"What about me, Sharon? What about me?" he asked her more heatedly than he had intended. and she immediately shrunk back, her posture defensive. He had to consciously remind himself that she had been kidnapped and insulted, that she was most probably traumatized and definitely sleep deprived. He lowered his voice and made an effort to relax his body to seem less physically threatening.
"Sharon," he said softly. "It is my baby, too and you're taking it 2,000 miles away from me. Have you even thought about that?"
The injustice of it all suddenly seemed so overwhelming that he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. He had been the worst dad in the world the first time around and now that he was finally ready to be there and do the right thing she wasn't letting him.
"We don't even know whether this is a viable pregnancy, Andy. With everything that happened and my age and medical history, I am more likely to miscarry than not," she said bitterly, her voice quivering.
"Then stay, Sharon, please just stay. If you don't feel comfortable here anymore, I get it. You can stay with me for as long as you like, maybe even move in permanently. I also get if you don't want to work at the LAPD anymore after everything. I get it! I wouldn't be able to do what you have been doing for so long with all the hostility!" He kept talking faster and faster, almost feverishly trying to think of a way out he could present to her to keep her from leaving."You wouldn't even have to work, Sharon. I'd support you and the baby."
Once those words had left his mouth, he knew that there was probably nothing he could have said that would have been worse. Sharon's face, full of hurt and sorrow before, turned to stone in an instant. She withdrew from him even farther, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for a physical fight. It was as if she was turning into a different person in front of his very eyes and when she spoke, she sounded just like the Captain Raydor of old and nothing like the Sharon he had gradually grown to know and love.
"That is the last thing I would do! Do you honestly think that after everything I have been through in my life with Jack, with the kids, that I would allow myself to be that dependent on a man ever again? How could you even think that? Do you know me at all?"
Andy stared at her, his own rage evaporated in the face of her disbelief.
"I mean, you could find another job!" he said weakly.
Sharon gave a little snort that didn't sound amused at all. "Oh yeah, but who would hire me, Andy? Pregnant at 47 with a prolonged maternity leave in my immediate future? I don't think I am a top pick right now."
Her snappy tone was gradually pissing Andy off. It felt better than he would have expected because at least his anger made him feel a little less devastated, a little less helpless.
"Your Boston employer doesn't seem to mind! Or didn't you tell him?" He sounded accusatory now, but he couldn't find it in him to care.
Sharon was breathing more heavily now. She, too, was beginning to feel desperate, it seemed. "She, actually. And she knows about my, um, circumstances. But she is my sister and she doesn't mind."
Andy was shell shocked, unable to say anything for a second. The momentary silence hung between them like a dark cloud and did nothing to relax the atmosphere.
"The mysterious job offer came from your sister?" he asked, incredulously. "What kind of job is it?"
"Just what I told you," Sharon said. "A security consultant job for her firm. They're expanding. It's good money and flexible times."
Andy couldn't have cared less about her sister's employee-friendly ways. Somehow the fact that her sister was the one who had offered the job felt even more insulting to him. Not someone she barely knew and needed to impress. Her sister. But it figured. No matter how the pregnancy went, she would have a job and a support system in Boston with her parents and her sister. She was clearly choosing them over him: People whom she had known all her life. People who gave her stability, who she could rely on. It seemed that she still hadn't understood that Andy was not Jack. That he could actually be worth staying for. His chest almost exploded with hurt and a sudden bout of rage. What else would he have to do to prove himself to her? How could she just assume that she would be better off far away from him? How could she just take his child away from him without even giving him a choice in the matter?
"So this means nothing?" He gestured between them. "We mean nothing? You just assume that I am not worth staying for? That you and our child are better off without me? Is that it?"
"Andy…" she tried, her voice suddenly heavy with tears, but he couldn't let her say more. He couldn't have her use that voice with him, reasonably and sadly explaining to him why it was that she was leaving. Because he didn't want a goddamn explanation. He didn't want to try and maybe understand where she was coming from. All he wanted was for her to stay. His heart was beginning to race with a sudden onslaught of panic. He could rage or threaten or plead, but with sudden clarity he knew that he would not be able to change her mind. Too much had happened, too much had broken in her. Sharon was so fundamentally shaken by what had happened that she was desperate to get away from everything that she knew, desperate to start a new life and bring 2,000 miles between LA and herself. Even if that meant that she would have to leave Andy behind. Maybe even because of it.
The pain in his chest was suddenly unbearable and it felt as if someone was squeezing his throat so he could barely breathe. With a start, he turned around and walked to the door. He couldn't stay a second longer here with her.
"Andy!" she called after him and he turned around one last time (or so he promised himself). He was surprised at how devastated she looked, her eyes full of tears. Some part of him had already assumed that she had turned back into the woman he had known all those years again. Cold, collected, sticking to the decision she had made without being emotionally affected by its repercussions. It was not what he was seeing, but that did nothing to calm him.
"Look, Sharon, we could have had something. I thought we had something. If you want to run away, then run away, but don't expect me to be the fool who comes running after you. We are not all your little lapdog Elliott!"
Had he not been that angry, he would have regretted that last part, because he could tell how much it hurt her.
"Maybe you should go," she said, her voice hitching with a sob that came unbidden.
"Don't worry, I was about to."
Once Andy was holding his coffee in one hand and Provenza's latte in the other, he was already feeling sick at the notion of drinking it. He hadn't been eating very regularly lately since everything seemed to upset his stomach these days and the bitter black liquid would be no exception. Andy was no stranger to guilt. In fact, it had become a silent companion, an old friend during all those early years of sobriety and the cold, sober nights in which he had examined his regrets. His ruined marriage, his abandoned children, the destroyed friendships. But that had been him as an alcoholic. He had managed to screw things up with Sharon while he was sober and that scared him. Maybe drinking had never been the problem. Maybe he was just an overall shitty human being who could only exist in relationships like the one he had with Provenza, where feelings were hidden and insults were traded on a regular basis. Maybe he didn't deserve Sharon.
Four days after their fight, the day after Elliott's funeral, he had finally caved in, had made his way to Sharon's apartment to talk to her, to apologize for his part in their fight. Maybe there was a way to convince her to stay after all, maybe she had calmed down a little, had finally gotten some sleep and reconsidered her decision. He had been terribly nervous after having knocked on her door and when it had opened, he had braced himself for a chilly greeting. Instead, he had been met with a wide, if slightly confused smile.
"Who are you?" he asked, faced with a beautiful black woman about Sharon's age with short black hair and expressive dark eyes.
"I'm Stella, Sharon's friend," she replied. "And you are…?"
"Andrew Flynn, her… um, her friend. Where is Sharon? Is she okay?"
If Stella knew who he was to Sharon, she didn't let on. "Yeah. She took a flight to Boston last night. I am here to pick up her plants and put some things into storage for her."
Andy took a sip of his coffee, finding it as strong and as bitter as he had expected. It burned down his throat, reminding him of another substance that burned when swallowed and he was hit with an intense surge of longing for a large tumbler of scotch. Or vodka. Or gin. Or whatever would take the edge off. He had never been picky. Trying to get those thoughts out of his head and to clear his mind, he walked faster. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in beginning to sweat in the summer heat, so he just stopped dead in his tracks, too wary to go on, ignoring the annoyed shouts from the other pedestrians.
There were plenty of people on the sidewalk all around him, but he had never felt so alone in his life.