An attempt at getting into Sharon's and Andy's heads during this episode. There are three separate, but connected scenes here, in chronological order.

She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning against the sink, looking through her reflection rather than at it. She had just finished her interview with FID. It went as expected; a walk-through of her actions prior to, before and after shooting Dwight. An officer stood in front of the bathroom making sure she had a moment to herself. She hadn't asked him, he offered and she didn't have the strength to refuse him. With the courtroom footage and witness statements set to only confirm her account of things, FID assured her that, after dealing with behavioral sciences, she would most likely be fully cleared for duty by midday tomorrow. With or without their assurances, she didn't really worry about it. After all, it was all done by the book. She scoffed at the thought. Several people lost their lives, including Chief Taylor; a sudden memory of him being hit by two bullets flashed across her mind; two were fighting for their lives, and all she could say was that it was done by the book?

She shook her head, refusing to linger on those depressing thoughts, heaved a breath and tried to focus on her reflection.

She was pale, but it was the three drops of blood on her face that drew her attention. One for each shot, she thought ironically. She put her hands under the faucet, waiting a second for the sensor to recognize the movement which would start the water running. She squeezed some soap onto her hands and started scrubbing rigorously, even though there was not a drop of blood on them. She replayed the scene in her head again. As if going over it with FID hadn't been enough, she thought bitterly.

She had reacted on instinct, the moment Dwight pulled the trigger for the first time she had her weapon drawn and was on her feet, but shooting back had had to wait until the courtroom was emptied. Or at least until anyone in her line of fire was out of danger. It had taken only a few short seconds for her to finally get a clear shot, but it had been long enough to see the people in front of her being shot down. She had only just registered Taylor aiming at Dwight, the innocent bystander pushing him as he ran for his own life, giving Dwight the opportunity to pull the trigger again. There had been a passing thought telling her Andy was okay, standing a few rows next to and behind her and when Dwight's last couple of shots had echoed through the courtroom, she had finally pulled her own trigger. Once, twice, three times.

She was done scrubbing her hands and reached for a paper towel. Her hands were slightly shaking, just as they had been while aiming her gun at Dwight after she had kicked his weapon out of reach.

They hadn't stopped shaking until a warm set of large hands had covered them. Andy had reached her and put his hands over hers steadying them, snapping her out of her frenzy as she stared down at the man she had just shot.

"The paramedics are on their way. Are you okay?" He had asked her in such an obviously forced calm manner that she knew immediately that the events had shaken him up. His attempt at remaining calm was for her benefit as much as it was for his. He had put a bit of pressure on her hands and only then had she realized she no longer needed to aim at Dwight. He had lost consciousness by then. She had lowered her hands and nodded. A better answer she couldn't give him, but it was enough for him for he had taken a step back and slipped back into his role of Lieutenant.

The rest of the goings on in the courtroom were a blur of movement; paramedics, officers, Morales, her team. Even giving the team some last instructions before joining FID she only recalled through a thick fog. Some last questions, she corrected herself.

She used one of the now wet towels and dabbed them over her face, getting rid of those three angry reminders of the shooting. It wasn't the first time she had shot someone, and there was no guarantee that it would be the last, but she felt shaken up more now than after any of her previous shootings. A hollow feeling of indifference filled her as she thought about the likely possibility of Dwight not making it through surgery. She remembered the slick smile that crossed his face as he was lying on the floor and a pang of anger, or was it hate, shot through her. Her brows drew together at the unwanted feeling.

She made an effort to shake herself out of those thoughts and gave her face a last once over before dropping the towels unceremoniously into a trash bin next to her. She ran her hands over her clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and took a deep breath. With that, she put her threatening indifference aside to deal with if and when she actually had a reason to.

She left the bathroom, thanked the officer next to the door and headed back to work.

"Hey, Flynn!"

He was on his way to pick up Henry Colson and was about to head out of the murder room. He looked to his right and saw Provenza running to him. Walking quickly to him that is.

"Yeah?" he asked, as the older man finally reached him and stopped in front of him. He genuinely thought Provenza needed him in regards to the case but when he heard his partner's hushed reply, a frown settled on his face.

"Have you talked to the Captain?"

"No, I haven't," he replied impatiently in an equally hushed voice. "Why?" He knew why, but he wasn't about to spill any unnecessary beans.

Provenza's face adopted a frown as well and he whispered angrily, "Well, talk to her!"

He was obviously just as worried as he was so Andy relaxed somewhat. He gave Provenza his full attention and folded his arms.

"She won't want to talk right now." They were at work and anything he wanted to talk to her about she wouldn't appreciate discussing there. He looked behind Provenza as if the woman in question might jump out in front of them at any second. And she actually could, she was in her office talking to Rusty.

Provenza seemed to understand and when he spoke again the anger in his voice was gone. He did poke Andy in the chest though. "Maybe throw the rules out the window for a minute?" His voice softened, and he looked down to his feet for a moment before his eyes settled on Andy again. "She killed a man today," he took a breath, looking quite uncomfortable with the knowledge itself, and even more with sharing it with someone, even if it was Andy, "and she can't locate a single part in her that feels bad about it," he quoted her.

Andy's shoulders slumped and he too, took a breath. "I figured something was off," he said dejectedly, "but she won't talk about it." Not that they had any time to talk anyway.

He pinned Provenza with a look, practically pleading with the man to drop it. As if he didn't want to check on Sharon and make sure she was okay, he scoffed to himself. There was no need for Provenza to get on his case about it now as well. She'll talk eventually, but for now he shouldn't and wouldn't push.

"Well, you should try," Provenza insisted. "She's scary on a good day." He threw a look at her standing with Rusty in her office. "And today's not a good day," he added gravely.

Andy smiled, proudly almost, "I know." He hadn't planned for his worry to seep into the words though.

"Just take care of her," Provenza grumbled and walked back to his desk.

If Andy wasn't this concerned he might have laughed at Provenza. Typical Provenza, he actually chuckled to himself. He groused and complained but underneath it all he's grown to care for Sharon, that much was clear even if he would never admit it. He shook his head and made his way out of the murder room, but not before he, too chanced a look at her.

They would talk when she figured out what to say, he knew or hoped. And only that was what kept him calm.

For now.

He pushed the elevator button angrily. His blood was already starting to boil as he remembered he was on his way to pick up that scumbag Colson.

A knock on her door broke her out her thoughts. She was going through her team's findings once more before she had to leave to meet with behavioral sciences.

"Come in," she said looking up at the door as it opened to reveal Andy holding two cups of what she hoped was coffee. It had been a long night, neither of them had even made it home for a change of clothes, let alone sleep.

"Hey," he closed the door and walked to the front of her desk to put a cup in front of her before folding himself into a chair across from her.

He took a sip of his coffee and just sat there in silence for a moment, one hand holding his coffee, the other resting on his thigh. She was glad about that. She had had enough people ask her, with looks or words, whether she was okay. She took a sip of her own coffee and hummed. "Thank you, I needed this."

He shrugged. "I figured as much. We're waiting for Chief Howard so, while we wait, I thought a coffee break was in order."

She offered him a smile, leaning back into her chair more comfortably, cradling the cup between her hands. "Good idea."

He gave her a warm smile in return, but the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly for a split of a second told her he wasn't there for a simple coffee break. The slow drumming of his fingers over his thigh told her as much, too. He wouldn't ask, she knew. And she appreciated it. He had been remarkably professional. Besides that brief moment where he offered she went to the judge's chambers, he wasn't hovering either even though he knew she was thoroughly rattled. He was there though, at her beck and call if she needed him and that seemed enough for the both of them. Or it was enough. Until now.

She stood up, coffee still in hands, and walked past him to draw the blinds together. She would throw him a bone. And if she was completely honest with herself, she could use a moment, too. She walked back to her desk but sat down on the chair next to him instead of the one behind her desk. The whole time his eyes carefully followed her movements.

"I am not worried about behavioral science." Her calm and steady voice confirmed as much.

"I know," he nodded.

But he also knew there was something that was bothering her, she finished what must have been his unvoiced thought. As precious as it was to know he could read her so well, in moments like these it was slightly exasperating. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to him. She simply didn't know what to say, what to tell herself. How could she tell him anything then?

"I killed him." No reason to dance around the issue, she decided. Her voice was steady but lower than before, laced with emotions she couldn't yet name.

"You had to," he told her, a note of vehemence in his voice.

"I know," she quietly echoed his earlier words.

He was looking at her intently now as if weighing his reply. She had noticed the hushed words exchanged between him and Provenza and was sure that Provenza had filled him in on her thoughts about killing Dwight. She had actually expected Andy to check up on her much sooner.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was a carefully put question. He wanted to talk about it, but if she didn't, he would let it go, at least for the time being.

She secured the cup of coffee in one of her hands and let the other one cover his still rhythmically drumming fingers. She didn't speak right away and he gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. By the time she opened her mouth, she hadn't made a conscious decision to say what she did, "I am supposed to feel guilty." It was a statement, but even without the unspoken "am I not" it could have been seen as a question. Her voice was laced with an insecurity neither her nor Andy recognized.

He had stilled his fingers and turned his hand palm upwards, letting their fingers intertwine. "His death wasn't your fault, Sharon." He gave her hand a squeeze. "The idiot signed his death certificate the moment he pulled that trigger."

The gruffness in his voice let her know that not only did he mean his words but that they were also true. And she was aware of it. It wasn't that kind of guilt that had her this restless anyway. "I should still feel something," she stressed the word by squeezing his hand, "after taking a human life." She didn't dare voicing the terrifying question that followed those words. "What is wrong with me?"

He looked down at their joined hands. Her thumb was stroking that spot between his thumb and index finger. "It's anger with me," he told her quietly. It really was anger with him. Having to kill someone in the line of duty had him angry for both having to take a life in the first place and for being the one to have to do it.

"It seems it's nothing with me," she said sarcastically. There was also an undertone of genuine worry there.

"For now," he corrected her. Before she could think of a response he added, quickly, but with no less of a conviction, "Maybe it's just shock. It's the dirtbag's fault and we both know it. Once the shock wears off, you'll let that sink in and you'll be able to make peace with it."

She nodded, her own gaze falling down to their hands, mulling over his words. "What if I've already made peace with his death?" she asked.

He didn't hesitate. "It still doesn't make you a bad person." And as if he had read her previous unspoken question, he added, "There is nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with you." He squeezed her hand as if to reiterate it.

It was so simple for him, wasn't it, she thought as she offered him a soft smile. You pull the trigger because the dirtbag asked for it and that's that. Black and white. She didn't feel it was that simple though.

He tugged on her hand to get her attention. Her face must have given away that she let her mind wander. When she looked up at him, there was concern on his face, in his eyes, but also understanding. "Maybe I'm not the right person to talk to about this." There was no hurt in his words. He could just tell that this was not something he could make easier on her, as much as he wanted to or tried to. It was as simple as that and he could recognize that.

She thought it over for a moment. He really couldn't offer her a perspective she didn't already think of herself. "Maybe," she said sadly. She gave him one last gentle squeeze of a hand, and used both of them to push off the chair.

"I should get going." The meeting was due in 10 minutes.

He got up as well. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked watching her as she put down her coffee and started collecting her things.

"Find me a way into Naziland," she responded instantly. It was a Captain's order, but Sharon said the words.

It put a smile on Andy's face. "We will." He told her with a nod of his head. He walked to the door. "Good luck, Captain," he added through a crooked grin.

And before he was out, she responded in kind. "You, too, Lieutenant."

Mary was great in this episode but I thought she could have been given much more to work with, something like two of those scenes above.

As always, thank you for reading and feel free to hit the reviews! :)