A Path Well Traveled

Chapter 4

They thought they had been lucky. It had been two weeks since the unfortunate article was published, and nothing else had come of it. Apart from acting Assistant Chief Howard, no one had mentioned it to them, and with the exception of Charlie, who was not their biggest fan anyway, their children had accepted their shared pasts without further protest. A few days after their initial talk, they had sat down with Nicole again to answer some of the young woman's remaining questions. By the time she left that night, Nicole had felt much better about the entire situation. Sharon and Andy had relaxed. They had stopped looking over their shoulders, wondering if someone would pounce on them with questions about the article and the pictures it contained.

After that night, when Andy had given voice for the first time to the depth of his feelings for Sharon, even all those years earlier, they had talked about it, and the honest discussion of things they had buried for so long had strengthened their relationship even further. They were in a great place, and they were ready to move on.

The second blow came when they no longer expected it, and it was Rusty who brought it to their attention. Apparently, he had set up a news alert that notified him whenever one or both of their names was mentioned online to keep an eye out for any other strange articles. Among all the mentions of his mother in relation to Major Crimes, another post to that obscure website had popped up, and the pictures it contained made him shudder. He had emailed the link to Andy, tasking him with breaking the news to Sharon. That was a conversation Rusty did not want to be present for.

When he got Rusty's email, Andy cursed quietly before he rose from behind his desk, picked up his phone and, shaking his head at Provenza's questioning look, went to knock on the door to Sharon's office. They were lucky that it was a quiet afternoon, because he knew that what he was about to show his fiancée would definitely distract her from work.

She looked up from her paperwork and gave him a soft smile when he entered, but as she took in his frown, she wrinkled her brow in concern, gesturing for him to take a seat. He clutched his iPhone between sweaty hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm the angry pounding of his heart.

"Rusty just sent me an email with a link I think you should look at," he finally informed her, barely keeping his agitation out of his voice.

Of course, Sharon picked up on it, despite his efforts. She sat up in her chair and, placing both hands flat on the table in front of her, she nodded reluctantly. After he opened the link from Rusty's message, he handed the phone over to her, her cold fingers carefully curling around the device. When she turned it towards her, she stared at the screen for a few seconds before she slowly scrolled down. He knew the exact moment when she saw the first picture. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, one hand flying to her mouth.

It was the same website, Sharon realized when she first looked at the article. The design was obnoxious and a little obscene, as was the writing style of their articles. The headline, just as with the previous article, was designed to draw attention. It boldly declared the Los Angeles Police Department on the verge of moral bankruptcy due to an outrageous sex scandal, and if it did not hurt so much, Sharon would have laughed at the preposterous claim.

It was the pictures that followed the ridiculous headline that had her breath catch in her throat. While the first round of photographs had only been mildly embarrassing, the ones she was currently staring at left no doubt about what was happening.

She remembered that night. It was 24 years ago. Her husband had been gone again, and her children had been with a friend so that she could attend the retirement party for one of her former supervisors. Charlie Ross had rented the back room of a bar that was very popular among cops, and it had been crowded with many of the officers who had worked with him over his long career.

"I wasn't aware that you knew Charlie," Sharon said as she squeezed into a small gap between Andy Flynn and another officer. She cradled her red wine in one hand and smiled up at the man who was trying to get his own drink refreshed. Andy turned to look at her, smiling when he realized who had bumped into his side.

"Yeah, I rode with him for a while when I got out of the Academy. That was before he finally made it out of Patrol. The way he tells it, being stuck babysitting me gave him the final push to get that promotion."

Sharon laughed at Andy's hurt puppy expression, having no trouble at all to imagine the old Sergeant telling that exact story just to aggravate his young colleague. Andy had a hard time keeping his face straight, grinning at her, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

The bartender finally handed him a glass of bourbon, and he turned towards her fully, holding his glass out to touch it to hers.

"To old Charlie. May he not drive his wife to kill him."

With a barely suppressed snort, Sharon took a sip of her drink and watched him do the same. It was nice to have someone to talk to, she pondered as she studied the handsome man in front of her. She was the only IA officer in the room, and with the exception of their host, everyone made sure not to have to interact with her.

Andy had no such qualms. They enjoyed each other's company and never struggled to find things to discuss. He asked her about her kids and listened with a wistful smile when she told him about Emily's dancing and Ricky's newly found passion for computers. She gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze when he had nothing new to say about his children, because they did not want to see him. They would invariably end up talking about sports, because it was a safe topic.

A few times over the past year, the conversations that had started at a café or a bar had ended in a hotel room or at his apartment. Ever since that first time in the backseat of her car, when she had sworn that it would never happen again, they had been drawn to each other. There was something in the way that he touched her, in the way his eyes lingered on her, that made it easy for her to forget, to let go of everything she had on her mind at the time. For an hour or two, maybe once every other month, they got lost in one another. That was all it was. It was not about love. They were not even really friends. They were simply two people who were incredibly compatible in that one way, who were able to laugh and find relief and companionship with one another. Sometimes, there were reasons for one of them seeking the other out. It might be a tough case, or her husband leaving once again, or his kids forgetting about his birthday. Sometimes, they ran into one another by accident and let the mood of the moment carry them wherever it might.

As she studied Andy over the rim of her wine glass, Sharon saw that something was bothering him. He put on a good show, smiling and laughing, but there was a sadness in his eyes that he could not quite hide from her. The rate at which he ordered fresh drinks was a little alarming, convincing her even more that he was struggling with something.

When she finished her wine and Andy was almost through his third bourbon, she placed her empty glass on the bar and told him to follow her outside. It went without saying that he would wait a few minutes to make sure no one would see them leave together and draw the wrong – or rather the right – conclusions.

He found her around the corner at the side of the bar. There was a narrow passageway between two buildings where several crates and boxes were located next to the dumpsters. It was dark, dirty, and a little smelly, but it was quiet and private. She leaned against the brick wall, her black coat tugged around her, and her arms crossed in front of her. When he stepped into the alley, she tensed for a second, only to relax and smile when she saw that it was the person she was waiting for.

Closing the distance between them, Andy stopped right in front of her, allowing his gaze to wander along her enticing figure. The dim light from the main street and a single lamp over the bar's side door was just enough to see how beautiful she was. The elegant black dress she wore was hidden underneath her coat, but he had a great view of her stunning legs, the black heels only making them appear longer.

Sharon reached out to him, sliding her fingers down his arms and taking hold of his hands. She stared down at them, broad and rough-skinned in her small ones. With a gentle tug, she finally looked up at him, her head tilted slightly to the side as she studied him.

"What's on your mind?" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, her thumbs caressing the back of his hands.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath. It should not surprise him anymore that she was able to read him so easily. He thought that he had disguised his troubled thoughts well enough, but there was no fooling her.

"Just a really bad case." He shrugged, hoping she would drop it. The images that he was unable to forget were too gruesome to share, and all he wanted to do was wash them away with a bottle of cheap booze. If only she would let him.

She tugged him even closer, slipping her arms around him when he closed the remaining distance. It felt good to have her in his arms, to feel her hands caress his back in long, soothing strokes. Her scent was warm and welcoming, a mixture of flowery bath products, an expensive perfume, and her own unique essence. He buried his nose in the thick curls that covered the sensitive skin of her neck, and he felt her shiver when his breath feathered over that secret spot right below her ear.

"Tell me about it," she finally prompted, her lips moving against his ear as she held on to him.

Of course she did not let it go. Sharon was like a dog with a bone when she had her mind set on something. He knew what she was doing. She wanted him to find a way to cope with his problems that did not involve a bottle, and sometimes she was successful, if only for a day.

"Her name was Abby," he started, his breath hitching when he remembered the little girl. "She was twelve years old, and her father beat her to death because she walked in on him and his girlfriend."

Andy did not mention that the father had been drunk at the time. He did not talk about the mother, who had cried in his arms when he had told her that her little girl was dead. He kept to himself how the woman had blamed herself for leaving her child in the care of a man who she knew had a drinking problem. Andy did not share with her how that mother's words made him wonder if his ex-wife had good reason not to let him see his own kids. Was he capable of hurting his children? Did their murderer think he was before he punched his little girl in the face and kicked her down a flight of stairs?

"She looked just like Nicole with her dark hair and those pink hair clips," he rasped, his voice thick with tears.

Sharon ached for him. Like everyone else, she had started in Patrol, and she had seen more dead children in those years than she ever thought she could deal with. It was never easy to deal with senseless death, but children made it particularly hard. Only, she had been able to go home at night and hold her own children close. That did not take away the horrible memories, but it helped a little. She knew that Sandra was making it difficult for him to see his kids, and that, as a result, Nicole and Charlie did not want to talk to their father. He was cut off from them completely.

She did not ask him if he tried to call his children. She knew that he did. She also knew that they turned him away once again. Instead, Sharon held him even closer, tightening her arms around him and pressing her lips against his cheek, along his jaw, down his neck. There was nothing she could say to make him feel better. All she had to offer was the closeness of another human being, someone to connect to.

She was an escape, just like the booze. Her scent and the feeling of her skin against his was intoxicating, and her gentle touch made him forget for a little while. She allowed him to get lost in her, in them, and it was even more tempting than getting lost in a bottle. Her kindness was as addicting as the taste of her kisses and the sensation of her welcoming body surrounding him. Maybe he should be concerned that she was becoming his lifeline. Instead, he let himself fall, trusting her to catch him, to be there when he needed her most.

His kiss tasted of desperation, of loneliness, of tears he refused to shed. His hands were all over her, pulling her against him as if he could meld their bodies, turn them into one. She wished that it were possible, not just for his sake. Their togetherness was a dark place, hidden from reality, out of time. It did not exist on her regular plane of existence. Not even her priest knew of it.

Sometimes she wondered if it was a preview of what would await her after death. A state of constant limbo, somewhere between complete elation and agony. It was an illusion, she knew. Being with him took the pain of loneliness away for a few precious moments, only to leave her feeling even more disconnected afterwards. It gave her a chance to help someone stay away from the bottle when she was unable to do the same for her husband, but it never lasted. And yet, she always came back to the darkness that was theirs and theirs alone.

At the time, it had not occurred to them that they might have been watched, that someone might catch them in that dark, narrow alley where she had allowed him to pour all his pain and heartache into her. That was exactly what the images on the screen in front of her depicted. There was no doubt that the two people in the pictures were having sex. Out in the open, pressed against a brick wall right next to a large dumpster.

Looking at the photographs, she could practically feel the cold wall at her back, the rough surface painful even through her clothes and a sharp contrast to Andy's warm body. She had her legs wrapped around him, her skirt pushed up to her hips. Her coat disguised the fact that he had merely pushed her underwear aside to gain access to her sex. Nothing was visible, and yet, everything was obvious.

Her son had seen that. The thought made her feel nauseous. She dropped the phone onto her desk and covered her face with both hands. She was unable to breathe and her head was spinning. She had the almost irrepressible need to run, to put as much distance between herself and those offending images as possible, but she knew that there was no escape. This nightmare would follow her wherever she went.

His hand was warm where it burrowed under the thick hair at the nape of her neck. She felt his comforting presence, knowing without looking that he was crouched beside her chair.

When she finally looked at him, the helpless pain he saw in her eyes made him want to hug her to him, but he knew that she would not appreciate such a blatant display of affection at work. Although, considering what had her so troubled, the team seeing them hug should probably be the least of their concerns. Andy wished that he could fix this for her, that he could make it go away. It was embarrassing enough for him, and considering the reaction of his children to the first batch of photos, he was feeling sick at the thought of them seeing these more recent ones. He was a man, though, and as progressive as they might believe their time to be, the fallout from things like these were always worse for the woman involved. Add to that the fact that Sharon had technically been married at the time with two small children at home, and that she was currently not only running a high profile division of the LAPD but also in the race for an even more prestigious promotion, the publication of these photographs could have devastating consequences for her.

Before he was able to find words to comfort her, someone briefly knocked on the door and entered without waiting for a response. Sharon quickly sat up, pushing her hands through her hair and straightening her jacket, even though neither was out of place. Rising from his crouching position, Andy ignored the pain in his knees, his attention divided between the pale face of his fiancée and Chief Howard, who had just stormed into the room, several sheets of paper in his hand.

Howard closed the door behind him and approached the desk, studying the two people behind it. From their expressions, he figured that they might already know the reason for his unannounced visit. He hated this. It was one of many reasons why he did not want to have the job of Assistant Chief on a permanent basis. His official role demanded that he take action, that he stick his nose where it was not wanted. He liked both Raydor and Flynn. They were good cops, and over the years, he had come to think of them as friends. And yet, he was tasked with making their very personal problem about politics.

"Captain, Lieutenant," he greeted them as he took the offered chair in front of Sharon's desk. Andy joined him a moment later, turned towards him slightly, an angry scowl firmly in place.

"I'm sorry for barging in like this, but I guess you know why I'm here."

Sharon nodded, her face going a shade paler, although that hardly seemed possible. "I have an idea, yes."

"We can no longer ignore this. I don't need to tell you that Chief Pope is not happy about this. He made it very clear that he expects it to be contained. Unfortunately, some other outlets picked this story up and will be publishing it in the following days."

"Damn it!"

It was the Lieutenant who aired his frustration. The Captain merely closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly.

"I realize that this is not something your team would usually deal with, but I don't want to spread it around the department anymore that absolutely necessary. Finding the person or persons who are leaking these photos is your top priority now. I want your whole team on this. Any other cases that can be handled by Robbery Homicide will be diverted to them. We need to put a stop to this or I'm not sure I'll be able to protect you."

The implications of his words were clear. Sharon realized the moment she laid eyes on the most recent article that her chances for getting the promotion had ceased to exist. Chief Pope would not risk putting her in such a high-profile position when her conduct could be questioned in any way. That did not bother her. What did concern her was the prospect of losing more than a chance for a promotion.

She also worried about Andy. His position was tenuous enough after two major health scares. If the wrong person got Taylor's job, he might be facing retirement, even without the additional complications of this smear campaign. He loved his job just as much as she loved hers, and she knew that he was not ready to retire, yet. She worried what that would do to him and to their relationship.

As she looked at him, she saw that he was not ready to throw in the towel just yet. The wheels were already turning inside his head, and there was a look of determination on his face that she knew only too well.

When their eyes met across the desk, no words were necessary. They would fight this. They would dedicate the collective experience of their entire team to finding the person responsible, and they would make them rue the day they decided to mess with their lives. It would not be easy, but Sharon already felt a little better knowing that they were not giving up.

~TBC~