A Path Well Traveled

Chapter 8

Maybe she should have expected it. Over the last months, while she had struggled to put her life back together in the wake of Jack's latest, most disastrous departure, Andy had been her rock. Not once had he questioned her when she showed up late at night, asking him to hold her or to distract her. He had been there. He had given of himself without asking anything in return. Whenever she mentioned feeling bad about leaning on him so much when there was nothing she could give him in return, he would simply smile at her and tell her that she gave him more than enough. She pretended that she did not know what he meant, and he only shook his head and kissed her when she asked him to clarify, but deep down, Sharon sensed what he was talking about. It scared her.

She had not wanted to see it. None of it. Not his budding feelings for her, nor hers for him, and least of all the fact that, beneath all of that, Andy Flynn was an alcoholic. She knew, of course, that he drank too much occasionally. She had seen him intoxicated too many times to deny it. And yet, she had somehow managed to push the reality of it out of her mind. When she looked at him, even when he had a drink in his hand, she only saw him. There was none of that nagging sense of apprehension she always felt when Jack drank. Andy was different. That's what she told herself. Until, one day, he showed up at her door late at night, almost too drunk to stand.

The kids had gone to bed hours ago, and Sharon was just about to crawl under her own covers when someone knocked on the front door. For a split second, she considered ignoring whoever it was, but the quiet knock turned into louder pounding, and she did not want her children to be woken up.

Tugging her robe off the bench at the foot end of her bed, she struggled into it on her way down the stairs, cursing under her breath when her bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor of the downstairs hallway. She was thinking of her warm, soft bed with the fresh sheets that smelled of detergent and fabric softener when she ripped open the door, glaring at the person who dared disturb her at that time of night.

She half expected to find a drunk man on her doorstep, but she had not imagined that it would be Andy who was leaning against the wall beside the door with one hand, holding onto it to keep from falling. It took her a moment to comprehend the situation, but when it finally sank in, she felt her stomach clench and her throat close up. She swallowed hard, struggling to control her initial angry reaction that was the result of too many nights like this when she had found her husband in the same position. Instead, she stepped aside, opening the door wider to allow Andy to enter.

He was unsteady on his feet as he stepped into the foyer, reaching out for the hallway table to steady himself. Sharon closed the door behind him and drew a deep, calming breath before she turned to follow him, taking hold of his arm with both hands to make sure he would not stumble into the furniture and wake her children with the noise.

They carefully made their way into the living room, and Sharon sighed in relief when she deposited him on the sofa. She left him there to retrieve a bottle of water and a some aspirin from the kitchen, taking an extra moment to calm herself. Hands braced on either side of the sink, she stared out into the backyard, taking deep, measured breaths until she felt the anger recede a little. The years of dealing with Jack had taught her that anger would not accomplish anything, except make them argue. It would not help either of them.

While the need to yell at him had subsided, the pain in her chest remained, and it took her a while to figure out what it meant. When she realized what she would have to do, Sharon closed her eyes tightly against the sting of tears and drew a shuddering breath. It hurt to even think about it, but there was only one path ahead of her, and she had to take it, if not for her own sake, then at the very least in order to protect her children. She had been blind to his problem for too long, and it was way past time that she stopped pretending that it had no impact on her life.

Shaking two pills into her hand, she put the bottle back into the cupboard above the stove, grabbed the water, and walked out of the kitchen to join Andy in the living room, hoping that he had not fallen asleep yet.

When she stood in front of him, he blinked up at her, taking a moment to comprehend what was happening as she wordlessly held out the water bottle and her upturned hand with the two pills resting in her palm. He eventually took both, swallowing the painkillers and chasing them down with a few sips of water.

He frowned when Sharon sat down at the other end of the sofa from him instead of leaning into his side and tugging his arm around her shoulder. He wanted to be close to her, to run his hands all over her body, and taste her skin. She was beautiful in her pale pink satin robe and the white nightgown he could see underneath. He longed to let his fingers trail all the way up her long, shapely legs, from her ankles over her calves and the sensitive backs of her knees to the inside of her thighs. He wanted to push the fabric that had ridden up to mid-thigh when she curled her legs underneath herself farther up until he was able to determine if she wore anything beneath her night clothes. He licked his lips as he thought about gently pushing her legs apart and settling between them to let his tongue run through her curls. He wanted to get lost in the heady scent of her desire, to let the strong, salty flavor of her juices overpower him. He longed to feel her walls twitch and pulse around his fingers as he moved them inside her moist heat, and he wished to watch her writhe and moan in pleasure.

When he reached out and brushed his fingers over her knee, she very deliberately removed his hand and placed it on the cushion between them. If she had not been so put out with him, she might have found his lost puppy look adorable, but at that moment, she failed to see the past the glassy eyes and the way he precariously tilted to one side where he was slouched on her couch.

Not one to give up easily, Andy slowly leaned over towards her, but before he was able to get close enough to kiss her, Sharon got up. Her arms crossed over her chest, she watched as he collapsed face first onto the seat she had just vacated. When he struggled to sit up again, she turned and took a blanket off the back of one of the armchairs. She hugged it to her chest as she looked down at him with a sad shake of her head. Once he was upright again, she wordlessly handed him the blanket and turned to go back upstairs.

"Hey, where are you going?"

His speech was not slurred, but he spoke slowly, obviously putting a lot of effort into forming the words. With a deep sigh, she faced him again, her lips curling downward in displeasure.

"It is late. I am going to bed," she informed him coldly. When he struggled to his feet to follow her, she held up her hand. "Don't bother getting up. You are staying on the couch."

"What? Sharon!" he protested, throwing his hands up in the air and promptly losing his balance. He fell back onto the couch with a curse and a frustrated huff, twisting around to follow her retreating form with his eyes.

She turned towards him once more, her mouth opening to reply to his plea when footsteps on the stairs drew their attention. A moment later, a bleary eyed Emily stumbled into the room, her face lighting up for a split second when she saw the man on the sofa. The moment she recognized him, however, her shoulders slumped and the smile that had appeared when she first laid eyes on him vanished once more.

"Oh, it's you," she said, her tone disappointed. Looking from the unwelcome visitor to the floor at her feet, she added, "I thought it might be…" Her words trailed off, hitching a little at the end.

Sharon closed the distance between them and drew her daughter into her side, an arm draped over the girl's shoulder. It was not hard to guess who Emily might have hoped to find when the voices had drawn her downstairs. She missed her father terribly. Whenever the phone rang, she ran to pick it up, hoping that it would be Jack, and ending up being disappointed every single time. Sharon had tried to explain to her that he might not come back, but the girl did not want to hear it. She was convinced that her daddy had not forgotten them and that he would be back very soon.

That was why she disliked Andy so much. While Sharon tried to keep her love life away from her children as much as possible, they had occasionally met the man who had become more and more important to her over the past year. Ricky liked the older man, having enjoyed the few times they had played ball together in the backyard. Her boy did not have as many memories of his father, and those that he did have were not all that good. He mostly remembered the years when she and her husband had already been at odds, when Jack had come home drunk or not at all, when they had fought late at night, after the kids were in bed. Ricky did not feel the need to defend his father's place in their lives. He was just happy to have someone tumble around in the grass with him.

Emily, on the other hand, had always been her daddy's little princess. The thought that her mother might be replacing her father frightened her and made her lash out at the intruder. She always managed to skirt the edge of impolite in her interactions with Andy, but the girl made her dislike of the man known. Sharon had tried to explain to her that Andy was a friend and that he would never replace her father, but her daughter refused to give him a chance. She was a smart child, and while she might not completely understand what was going on between her mother and her friend, she instinctually perceived his presence as a threat, and she did not like it.

Usually, Sharon would have reminded her daughter to display some basic civility towards their guest, but at that moment, she did not feel particularly civil towards the man on her sofa, either. Instead, she planted a kiss into the girls dark, unruly curls and gently pushed her towards the stairs.

"Go back to bed, honey. I'll be up in a moment to tuck you in, okay?"

Emily looked up at her mother, her eyes shining with unshed tears, almost ready to protest. When Sharon raised a warning eyebrow, she nodded and slowly retreated back upstairs.

Sharon turned back to face Andy, who was sitting at the edge of the sofa, his elbows braced on his knees and his face buried in his hands. There was a lot she wanted to say to him, and it was tempting to throw it all at him right at that moment, but he was hardly in any shape for a rational discussion, and she was too angry to make sure that she would not yell at him. She had done enough of that when her husband had still been part of her life, and she was tired of it.

While she was still debating whether to stay or retreat, Andy had gotten up, his hands nervously sliding up and down his thighs, and his head hanging in defeat.

"Look, I'm sorry for showing up like this. It was a stupid idea. I'm just gonna go and get out of your hair."

He spoke quietly, looking up without meeting her gaze, his eyes nervously flitting around the room. He felt like an idiot. They had celebrated the birth of Martinez' son with a few guys from the station and a couple of drinks had turned into a little more until the bartender had tossed them out as he closed. Andy had not planned to go to Sharon's place. He had not thought much at all when he had crawled behind the wheel of his car. All that had been on his mind at the time was a few hours of sleep in a comfortable bed. Somehow he had ended up in front of Sharon's door instead of his own, and for a little while the idea of snuggling up against her had sounded pretty damn great in his mind.

It was not her icy attitude upon finding him drunk on her doorstep that had him realize what a stupid move it was to drop by her place. It was the disappointment in Emily's eyes when she realized that the drunk asshole on their couch was not her father. Andy had witnessed what kind of hell Jack had put Sharon through. He had seen how her husband's addiction had broken her heart, and he knew what it had done to their children. And here he was, bringing his own drunk ass into their lives.

Sharon reached out to curl her hand around his arm when he walked past her, making him stop. Her fingers were warm where they gently dug into the skin at his wrist, and he wished she would keep touching him, but after a brief moment, she drew away from him again.

"Andy, you can't drive like this," she protested. She had seen his car in the driveway when she had let him in earlier, and thinking about him behind the wheel in his state made her stomach turn.

"Stay. Sleep for a few hours and we will talk tomorrow, okay?" When he did not reply immediately, she placed a hand under his chin, turning his face towards her and seeking out his eyes.

"Promise me that you will not drive again tonight."

She stared at him until he reluctantly nodded, averting his gaze when it became too hard to see the disappointment in her eyes.

"Yeah, you're right."

He wanted to take her hand in his, to run his fingers through her tousled hair, to draw her slight body against his and hold her close until her sadness and tension melted away. He wanted to kick himself for hurting her, but before he was able to do any of those things, she stepped away and walked towards the hallway.

"Sharon," he called after her quietly, not wanting her to leave. He should apologize, promise to be better, to make it up to her. Instead, he simply thanked her for letting him stay, feeling his heart clench in his chest when she merely slowed down for a couple of steps, not quite pausing in her retreat. He saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deep, shuddering breath, before she continued up the stairs, a barely audible good night her only response.

Switching off the light, he slumped back onto the sofa, slowly stretching his body out and covering himself with the blanket she had given him. He buried his nose in the soft fabric, inhaling deeply. It smelled of Sharon. A mix of her perfume, her shampoo, and the comforting scent of her skin. It made him yearn for her body curled against his even more, and he started to think about ways to make it up to her. He was still going through and discarding options when he finally drifted off to sleep.

Sharon hardly slept at all that night, tossing and turning as she thought about the man downstairs. She was angry with him for showing up drunk, for not being strong enough to fight his addiction. But mostly she was angry at herself for refusing to see it for so long. His problems had not materialized over night. They had been there from the very beginning. Sandra had tossed him out because of his drinking, and more than once Sharon had considered talking to him about cutting back. They had sat down together many times, discussing their issues over drinks. In fact, the entire thing they had going between them had started because they were both drunk enough to have sex in her car. Instead of confronting him or pulling away right at the beginning of their little affair, she had buried her head in the sand until it was too late.

For most of the night, Sharon had agonized over how to proceed. There was only one logical thing to do, and had this happened a year or two earlier, she would not have hesitated to do it, but logic had very little to do with it anymore. At some point over the past few years of their acquaintance, her fondness for a goofy soccer dad had developed into more than she was ready to admit to.

She got up with the first rays of the rising sun, exchanging her nightgown for a pair of sweat pants, a baggy, old t-shirt, and a cardigan. She tied her hair back into a messy bun and splashed some water into her face, before she quietly made her way downstairs. It would be at least an hour before her children would start to stir, and she wanted her discussion with Andy to be dealt with before then.

It did not surprise her that he was still asleep when she walked into the living room. He was on his back, snoring softly, one arm hanging over the side of the sofa, and his bare feet sticking out from underneath the blanket. His other arm was curled around a pillow, hugging it to his chest, his fingers digging into the soft fabric.

Tearing her eyes away from him, Sharon went into the kitchen to get him some more water and painkillers, convinced that he would need them. She returned to the living room and quietly sat down on the coffee table, taking a moment to study his face, before she reached out to caress his cheek with the back of her fingers. His skin was prickly with the dark stubble that had made an appearance over night, and she drew a breath when he turned his face into her touch, nuzzling the palm of her hand as he slowly woke up. She was tempted to lean over him and let her lips brush against his until he was conscious enough to reciprocate. The strong smell of stale alcohol that emanated from his prone form made her keep her distance, however.

When his eyelids fluttered open, Sharon withdrew her hand and straightened her shoulders a little, folding both hands in her lap as she waited for him to sit up. He winced against the bright morning light that illuminated the room, hissing in pain and rubbing his temples as he moved into an upright position.

He thanked her quietly when she gave him the painkillers and the bottle of water and downed both. He turned the bottle between his hands, staring down at it as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. It was Sharon who finally broke it, deciding to speak before Andy was able to say something and possibly change her mind.

"I can't do this, Andy," she told him quietly, studying a small, crumbled piece of paper that she kept folding and unfolding nervously. "I've been through this before, and it nearly destroyed me. But more importantly, it hurt my children, and I cannot put them through this again."

She handed him the note, giving him a moment to read the information she had written on it earlier before she began to explain.

"This is a good program. They offer different options, but their 90 day inpatient treatment has a high success rate. If you talk to your captain, he'll make sure you get the time off and you'll have your job waiting for you when you come back."

It was a rehabilitation facility that IA liked to work with. They specialized in treating law enforcement and military personnel and their rates were lower than those of most other centers of the same quality. Jack had gone there twice, as well, but had not had the patience to go through with the entire 90 days. He had believed to be cured and had not seen the need to continue. It was no surprise that his success had not lasted long. She sincerely hoped that Andy would be able to make it work.

He finally looked up from where his hands still clutched both the paper and the water bottle. His eyes were filled with pain and uncertainty, and it made her heart clench.

"What is it you're saying here, Sharon?"

He was scared. For the first time in several years he truly feared another person's words. He should have known that this moment would come. He had been there before, when his ex-wife had given him two hours to pack his bags and leave their house years ago. It should not have surprised him that Sharon would eventually do the same. She did not have to untangle their lives or get rid of his stuff. There was no paperwork for her to take care of, and she did not have to worry about when and if he would be allowed to see their children. She also did not yell. That simply was not her style. Sharon was quiet and gentle about it, attempting to help him even while she was pushing him away. He should be grateful for that, but it only made it harder to face the inevitable.

"I'm sorry, Andy."

There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him, and he wanted to reach out to her, to hold her close and promise her that everything would be all right, but as much as he did not want to face it, he knew that that would be a lie.

"I fought this battle more times than I care to admit, and I simply have nothing left to give. Maybe if it were just myself, but I have to think about my children. You're already more present in their lives than I ever intended, and I can't let them watch you go down the same road as their father."

There were so many more things she wanted to tell him, promises she wanted to make, but she left all of it unspoken. It would not be fair to either one of them to make promises she would not be able to keep in the end.

Andy swallowed hard, feeling as if she had just yanked the rug out from underneath his feet.

"If I do this and make it out on the other side, what then?"

Sharon knew what he was asking. He wanted her to promise him that she would be waiting for him, that they would pick up where they had left off once he came back from rehab, but that was one of the promises she would not be able to make, no matter how much she might want to.

"You can't do this for me, Andy. If you want this to work, you have to do it for yourself. Do it for your children, but not to please me."

Andy snorted when she mentioned his children. They did not want to see him. It had been made clear to him by both his ex-wife and the kids that he was not welcome in their lives, so what would they care if he drank himself into an early grave?

Laying a gentle hand on his knee, Sharon waited for him to look at her. When she had his eyes, she gave him a kind smile, her voice full of confidence when she continued to speak.

"They need you. I know that they walked away from you, but one day, they will turn around and realize that they need their father in their lives. You cannot force them to do that or decide when that is going to happen. What you can do is make sure that, when it happens, they will see someone they can rely on, someone they can trust."

He wanted to believe her. He wanted nothing more than for his children to love him and to need him. Maybe Sharon was right and that day would come, but he did not have as much confidence in that as she seemed to have.

"Maybe one day you'll look at me and see someone you can trust again, too."

It was more of a question than anything else. He did not dare hope that she would ever look at him like that again. She had been through too much with her husband. Asking her to put her faith in another addict simply would not be fair.

"Andy, please," she whispered, shaking her head. Why did he have to make it so hard? Why did she want to hold on to him so much? Letting him go to face his demons on his own was one of the hardest things she had ever done. He had been with her through the worst time of her life, and she was sending him away when he needed her most. It made her feel horrible and selfish, as if she had used him and was tossing him away now that he was broken.

The truth was, however, that there was nothing she could do for him. He needed to walk this path alone, to fight this battle for the right reasons, not to make her happy. That was what Jack had done time and again, and it had never lasted. She wanted Andy to succeed, to truly recover, and for that, she needed to let him go.

Andy sighed, closing his eyes briefly as he drew a deep, calming breath. He rose from the couch, waiting for her before he walked to the front door, swallowing hard to keep the tears down. He wouldn't cry in front of her. That was not the way he wanted her to remember him. They stood in the open door, facing one another, her hand caressing his arm as they stared at one another.

"I don't know if I can do this, Sharon." His voice was deep and raspy, close to breaking.

She hugged him tightly, her lips moving against his ear. "You can do it. I believe in you."

She sounded so convinced, so full of confidence in his strength, and he wanted to hold on to that. He wanted to hold on to her, even though he knew that she would not allow that.

"Sharon, I…"

She pushed back quickly and placed her fingers over his lips, shaking her head.

"Please don't."

She had a feeling that she knew what he was about to say, and she could not allow him to say it. Her resolve was already too close to crumbling. Too often had she surrendered to her husbands sweet words of love when she should have kept pushing, and she refused to make the same mistake again. Placing a lingering, tender kiss on the corner of his mouth, she stepped away from him and watched as he reluctantly turned around and walked away.

Sharon watched as he climbed into his car, waving at her before he started it. His sad gaze lingered on her as he backed out of her driveway, only torn away when he turned onto the quiet street.

Once his car was out of sight, she stepped back inside and closed the door. The tears that she had fought all morning finally fell unhindered as she leaned her back against the door and buried her face in her hands. He had not even been gone for a minute, and she already missed him. All that was left for her to do was pray for him and hope that he would succeed.

She did not know that Andy did not go straight home after he left her place that morning. She did not know that he made a stop at a liquor store and that he spent most of the day on his sofa, going through a bottle of bourbon, nor was she aware of the fact that he had not stopped drinking for two full days following their talk.

All Sharon heard was that, a week after he had shown up at her door, Andy had taken some time off. The next time she saw him, almost six months later, he looked healthier than she had seen him in years. When he excused himself after they exchanged a few friendly if awkward words, she smiled. He had to go, or he would be late for his meeting. She was happy for him.

~TBC~