A/N: Not sure if I want to continue this story... I feel like I'm not giving it my all.

~oOo~

REMINDER: Philophobia: Noun. The abnormal, persistent, and unwarranted fear of falling in love or emotional attachment. The risk is usually when a person has confronted any emotional turmoil relating to love in the past.

~oOo~

My eyes fly open when the gravity of what happened last night finally hits me. Not that anything really happened, but what did happen never should have in the first place. I should have sent Andy home immediately. What was I thinking, inviting him up for coffee? There was no reason for me to do that, but I had. And now we're laying in my bed, his arms wrapped snugly around my waist.

I have to get out of here. I have to stop this before it gets any more out of control.

I try and free myself from his gentle grip, but it only causes him to pull me closer. What time is it anyway? I can't see the clock from here, and I really need to use the restroom. Or atleast that's what I'll tell Andy when he finds me sleeping on the couch instead of in my bed.

"Andy, I need to go to the bathroom." I mumble, hoping he's conscious enough to recognize my voice, "Please let go."

As if by magic he does, and I am able to quickly escape to the bathroom.

~oOo~

What am I doing? I am a grown woman, a police Captain, and yet I'm running away from one of the only people that has ever truly cared about me.

Everything is wrong, horribly, terribly wrong. And I am being forced to deal with the consequences. The consequences of taking Rusty in, which up until now have been few and far between. The consequences of his cancer, his treatment, and his mortality. The consequences of these things I'm feeling towards Andy, of whatever is going on between us. I'm scared.

I finish up in the bathroom and quietly sneak towards my bedroom door, freezing when I hear Andy roll over in bed. Please, don't wake up. I let out a light sigh when he doesn't, accidentally smiling as his hands search for my body beneath the rumpled sheets.

No, Sharon, you're running away again, remember? The one thing you've always been good at.

~oOo~

Maybe it's good I didn't let Andy sleep on the couch. It's definitely not as comfortable to lay on as I remember. What am I talking about?! My Lieutenant is sleeping in my bed, there is nothing good about that! Nothing! I must be losing my mind!

I grab one of the throw pillows and clutch it against my chest. Okay, maybe being able to hold Andy's hands against my body as we slept was nice. Maybe.

Maybe you need to tell him how you feel. The little voice in the back of my head pipes up. Maybe you need to explain everything.

"Yeah, right." I scoff, closing my eyes, "And maybe I need a brain scan."

~oOo~

"Sharon?" I startle awake when I feel Rusty gently tap my shoulder, "Sharon, why are you out here?"

"I... I just had a bad dream. What time is it?" I rub my eyes and sit up, taking in his withering appearance.

"A little after two, I think. You know you don't have to pretend like the Lieutenant didn't stay."

"Why are you awake?" I ask instead, ignoring his latter comment, "You're not in pain, are you?"

"Not any more than usual." He shakes his head and laughs quietly, "Why aren't you with him? It's... It's okay you know. Like if you want me to approve it or something, I do."

"Rusty, honey," I stand up and walk over to him in the kitchen, forcing myself to smile, "As much as I appreciate that, Lieutenant Flynn and I aren't seeing each other."

"It's because of me, isn't it?" He asks, sounding hurt as he pours himself some water, "You don't want me to ruin everything."

"No, Rusty, that's not true. Andy and I aren't together because," why aren't we? "because, I'm afraid of opening myself up. It has nothing to do with you, I promise."

"You sure?" He sips his water, looking at me worriedly, "I want you to be happy, Sharon."

"I am happy." I respond, tears beginning to blur in the corners of my eyes, "I have you. Get back to bed, okay? I love you."

"I love you too." He smiles and quickly hugs me before we both return to our 'beds.'

~oOo~

For the first time since Rusty's diagnosis, I actually slept. Maybe it was knowing that Andy was there, or maybe it was my conversation with Rusty, but I feel so enlightened.

"How long have you been out here?" Andy asks worriedly as he stumbles into the living room, "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," I nod, "Everything's fine. Sleep okay?"

"I guess." He scratches his neck, coming over to sit next to me, "Look, Sharon, about last night, if I overstepped some sort of line, I didn't mean to and I'm-"

"It's fine. I appreciate everything you've done for us these past few months, I really do."

"What's gotten into you?" He teases, patting my knee, "Just the other day you didn't want me around."

"I'm a woman, what do you expect?" I laugh lightly, "I really do appreciate it though."

"Thank you for letting me do it." He grins and rises from the couch, "Breakfast?"

"What time is it?" I question, following him towards the kitchen.

"We have an hour before we need to be at work. When's the last time you ate something?"

"I... Uh... I don't remember." I mumble, "I need to take a shower. I'll have just enough time." I turn to walk down the hallway when I feel him gently tug on my wrist.

"Sharon, you need to eat."

"No, I need to shower." I argue, gently pulling away, "I'll find something once we get to work."

"You're lying." He pulls me back towards him, "You'll get caught up with paperwork or a case, then you'll take Rusty to the doctor's and you'll have gone another day without eating."

"I'm fine, really I haven't been all that hungry lately." I answer truthfully.

"Sharon," he sighs, "you're doing it again."

"What?" I ask confused, "What am I doing?"

"Well," he chuckles nervously, "you're being Sharon."

Somehow, that feels like an insult.

"What exactly does that mean?" I question, stepping closer to him, "Do explain."

"It means that," he sighs, "It means that you're trying to be independent, even when you don't have to be. I've always loved that about you, but you need to let me help you, just this once, please let me help you."

"You... Just..." I point my finger and begin moving it around in the hopes it will conjur an answer out of thin air, "You said..." I sigh and rub my eyes, he said love. Not in the context that he loved me, but in the context that he loved something about me. He said it, he has the capacity to love me. This is bad, very bad.

"What?" He throws a confused look in my direction, "What did I say?"

"I need that shower yet." I divert his question, "I'm running out of time." I turn and run down the hallway, quickly locking the door. The sooner I can get away from Andy, the better.