Flynn decides to give Raydor ten more minutes at about the 6:30 mark. He swirls his cranberry and soda, about to take another sip when a whirlwind enters the bar. At the sight of her, Flynn has a thought that Raydor really is textbook everything. The fury blazing from her eyes is the clear definition of a woman scorned, and in case he had any doubt, the venom in her words at the sight of him wipes it away.

"You, you!" Raydor seethes when she turns the corner of the bar and makes for him. "You asshole," she fumes ever tactful enough to lower her voice to a hiss as she closes in on him.

"Here Stan," Flynn tosses the bartender a twenty as he stands. "Let's take this some place else," he tells her while reaching for her arm. She jerks away, squaring her shoulders and readying for a fight. He thought she'd be upset, but not all out pissed off. "You want to make a scene?"

"Didn't you?" she tosses back.

"I wanted to talk."

Sharon glares at him, contemplating her options. "Fine," she huffs, turning on her heel and walking toward the door. Flynn flashes a grin at Stan before shaking his head and following her out. The moment they step outside, Sharon whips around like a bird of prey readying to strike. This time when Flynn reaches for her arm, he latches on and strongly guides her to his car.

"No, I mean some place private," he says, going into full alpha male mode and cutting her off before she can get into a bigger fury. Raydor scowls, but knows their conversation doesn't need to be overheard, so she settles into the passenger seat and bides her time. Flynn expects to get it full force when he gets behind the wheel. In fact, he's so ready for Raydor's onslaught that her silence throws him to the point of near concern. He never really hated Raydor, but was just thoroughly pissed off at the sight of her for some reason he couldn't quite say until last night. He hesitates before starting the car, glancing over at her. She's staring straight ahead, her face calm and he'd buy it except for the slight tremble of her bottom lip. Flynn mutters a curse under his breath, thinking he may have bit off more than he can chew this time.

"How much do you remember," Sharon asks several stressful moments after he pulls into a parking place at a nearby park. The last rays of sunlight dip behind a row of trees as she waits for his answer. Flynn watches a mother strap her toddler into a car seat as he debates how much to tell her. "I will remind you that you started this trip down memory lane, so let me hear what it is you think you know." He cuts a sideways glance at her, a wave of anger cresting at the sight of her contempt. Chin squared, her arms across her chest and those glasses like armor, is it any wonder that the urge to choke her suddenly comes over him.

"I bought you a drink, you had a room. We had sex. When I woke up, you were gone." He looks at her then, and it dawns on Sharon what this is all about.

She can hardly contain the chuckle. "You're mad because I left you? God, you really are an alpha male." The quip creates a surge of emotion in Flynn, his eyes harden and his mouth draws into a thin line.

"Alpha male?"

"It was a one night stand, Flynn. You didn't think there was going to be strawberries and champagne in the morning did you?"

"So you did remember? You have known about this all along?"

Sharon has the grace to look down. "No, honestly I didn't. It was a rough time for me. I didn't give it much thought. I pretty much forgot about it actually." She glances out the window, noticing the parking lot is empty except for them. When she turns back, Flynn is still glaring at her. "What? Why are you so upset about this now?"

"You forgot?"

"Flynn, I was getting a divorce. I had two children to deal with and then I found out—"

"You were pregnant," he says with a hint of steel in his voice.

"Yes, I did," Sharon coolly replies. "I don't understand what that has to do with anything."

"You really think I'm that pathetic?" Flynn shifts in his seat, turning to face her straight on. "You may outrank me, Captain, but I'm a damn good cop and I know how to solve a case, too. Don't think you can blow smoke up my ass and I won't see it."

"What the hell are you getting at Flynn?"

"What am I getting at? Oh I'll tell you, Captain. I saw you with him at the ballgame."

Sharon blinks back in confusion. "The ballgame? What are you—"

"You can pretend and lie all you want, but I know the truth," Flynn hisses out, the tension between them palpable. Sharon still isn't sure what he's accusing her of doing, but her self-control is wearing thin. Unlike most people pissed off to the point of contemplating murder, as Raydor and Flynn continue their verbal sparring that is inching ever so closer to physical assault, their voices get lower as their personal space decreases. They are mere inches away from each other, and to the average eye, look more like they are in a heavy make out session instead of about to commit homicide.

The sudden rapt on the passenger side window sends them scurrying to neutral corners, faces flushed when Flynn rolls down the window to reveal a smirking patrol cop. "Need to see some ID," he quips before really taking in the situation. The officer's smile falters when he catches sight of Flynn and Raydor's badges. "Oh Captain, um Lieutenant, didn't mean to intrude." He straightens, gesturing toward a nearby sign in explanation, "it's just that the park closes at dusk."

"Thanks Officer Michaels," Sharon says, catching the officer's name from his nametag as she quickly regains her composure. "We'll be on our way."

"No rush, ma'am, sir," he says unable to hide a quick grin as he recovers from his surprise enough to give them a once over. "Have a nice evening."

"Well we can't stay here anymore," Sharon groans as he walks away. "God knows how fast this bit of gossip will spread."

Flynn somehow manages a laugh. "Two jurisdictions over. He won't have a clue."

"But still," Sharon says, her concern replacing her anger for the moment.

"Yeah, I know," Flynn sighs, starting the car. "Hotel?"

Sharon slowly turns to face him, her silent stare instantly readying him for round two. "Hello, that's what got us into this situation."

"Fine. My place then, or your place."

"Hell no."

"All right. Provenza's?" Flynn cracks. Raydor visibly shudders.

"Fine, a hotel."

Flynn starts out of the lot, pointing the car toward downtown. "Ok, I know a guy."

"You know a guy," Sharon asks with a sarcastic lilt.

"Yeah, he has a place on the strip."

"Excuse me? Do I look like I get paid by the hour to you?"

Flynn gives her a once over in part just to see the fury flash behind her green eyes. "We could set you up with a nice outfit."

"Lieutenant if you even think—" she stops at the sound of his laughter. "You asshole."

"Favorite word huh? Look, I don't bring home a Captain's salary. So it's either my guy or…"

"Take a left on Fairmont," Raydor replies, settling back into her seat, "I know a guy, too, at the Baybridge." Flynn reluctantly gives her the point and does as he's told.

Flynn drums his fingers on the wheel as Raydor sits quietly, watching the streetlights go by. He cracks a smile when some oddball rap song starts playing. Sharon grabs for her purse, scooping out one of the latest smartphones.

"Danny, sorry, I meant to call." At the mention of her son's name, Flynn's posture goes rigid. He can't hear the other side of the conversation, but nonetheless strains to catch anything he can.

"No, I'm not sure how long I'll be," she glances over at him and Flynn tries his best to mask his interest in her conversation with their son. Well, he could be their son. He flicks his eyes away from the road to see Sharon staring at him, so he shrugs his shoulders. She shakes her head and drops her gaze from him. "Just order something from Tony's. Tell them to put it on my tab." She's quiet for a bit, listening to whatever Danny is saying. He must be home alone, Flynn concludes. Provenza did say that the girls were somewhat older than him.

"Okay, just do that then. I'll be home as soon as I can. Did you get your hair cut?" Flynn can't help but look at her when she asks that, the mirth in her voice pulling his attention back to her. Sharon Raydor really was an attractive woman, especially when she was happy. "What do you mean sort of? Daniel Raydor when I said…all right fine then, but if it's not short enough…yes I will get the ruler out." She giggles then, the sound effecting Flynn in ways he'd rather not have it affect him. He shifts in his seat; thankful to see the hotel come into view.

"I've got to go, Danny. Love you. Bye." Sharon hangs up and returns the phone to her purse. She's smiling until she catches sight of Andy Flynn's scowl. "What?"

"Your son?"

"Yes, I forgot to tell him—"

"Seems you forget to tell a lot of important things," he says, cutting her off. He jerks the car into the Baybridge parking lot, driving past the drop off area by the door to park in a space. Sharon releases her grip on the door rest a moment after he cuts the engine, not sure what caused his sudden zero to furious reaction.

"Okay, so give me a minute and I'll let you know the room number," Sharon says, deciding the quicker they get this over with the better. She grabs up her purse and goes to exit the car, waiting for Flynn's response.

"Fine," he says, not looking at her. She stares at him for a beat before getting out and going inside. She manages to find Andre, an old family friend who just happens to manage the Baybridge. In a few minutes he sets her up with a room, not even bothering to run a tab.

"I still owe you," he grins as he hands her the plastic keycard. "Jackson loved the tour of the department last summer, gave him the push he needed to decide the police academy was for him."

"Thank you, Andre, but really…"

"No, Ms. Sharon, I won't hear anymore of it. Just return the key when you're done." He waves her on her way, so she gives him a smile and heads off. When she finds the room, Sharon tosses her purse on the king size bed and heads into the bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, she reflects on the events of the day. She can't believe what's happened, or what may happen. Her phone rings again, this time a more professional ringtone cutting through the silence.

"Raydor."

"You got a room yet?" An irritated Flynn asks.

"314, to the right off the elevator, 5th room on the right."

"On my way," he says hanging up. Sharon stares at her phone, not knowing why, but suddenly feeling like being in a room alone with Andy Flynn might possibly be the worse decision she's made this night.

"I know you've had issues in the past," she calmly begins a few minutes after Andy Flynn brushes past her and walks to the middle of the room, "but if you've been, well if something is influencing your behavior." Sharon swallows hard at the cold hard glare Flynn turns on her. She hesitates, but turns her back on him to close the door. He waits until she's facing him before he speaks. Sharon takes in his stance. Standing with his hand at his hip, his jacket pushed aside, she can see that he left his gun in the car. Small favors, Sharon thinks to herself, figuring if he does try to kill her it will at least have to be with his bare hands.

"My only issue is that you have been keeping my son away from me for almost 16 years now," he replies in a thin, furious voice. He covers the distance between them as he speaks, unable to stay away from her when the urge to – Flynn stops a foot away, his nostrils flaring and his hands fisted. For her credit, Raydor doesn't flinch, well, at least she doesn't move from her spot a few feet from the door. Her eyes do go wide and she shakes her head in defiance.

"There's no way, no, it's not possible," she says convinced Flynn has gone round the bend. Turning, she reaches for the door. Flynn holds it closed, his hand resting just above her head as she puts her back to the door and faces him again. "Let me out, Lieutenant."

"You and I have a lot of things to discuss," he says, his body very much encroaching on her personal space, "and we do, you aren't going anywhere."

"You don't want to do this," Sharon whispers, letting her composure slip just enough to reveal her growing concern. She looks past him, seeing her purse, which has her gun, too far out of reach. Why did I toss it on the bed, she chastises herself. Flynn grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Stop thinking about it," he says, reading her far too well for someone she barely knows. But then again, he is a cop, too. "I'm not doing anything to you, Sharon, other than asking you to explain yourself before I start asking other people these same questions. Now, why don't we have this conversation." He takes a step back, dropping his hands to his side and taking on a relaxed posed. She notes that he is still between her and her purse, and this makes Sharon frown. "Or we could just go to your place and make sure Daniel has a good meal." He gets the reaction he wanted, feeling Sharon's jaw set as her eyes go from fear-filled to steely resolve.

"Fine," Raydor huffs.

He gestures toward the sitting area, blocking her when she reaches for her bag. "No, ma'am, that stays there."

"Afraid I might hurt you?"

"Oh you've already got a head start on that one," he remarks as she nears the small sofa. Sharon doesn't sit, squaring her shoulders instead and staring at Flynn with the fury of a thousand wronged women.

"I'm getting very tired of all these accusations, Lieutenant."

"In here, I'm Andy and you're Sharon. This between us has nothing to do with who we are out there," he says, flicking his hand toward the window.

"Very well, then I'm getting very tired of all these accusations, Andy." He smirks at her, which only infuriates her more, and settles on the side of the chair opposite her. Hands at his knee, Flynn just looks at her for a long moment. Sharon lets the silence overtake them, determined that since this is his show, he will be the one to continue. Flynn holds out until he realizes she isn't going to give. Her stubbornness impresses him more than it should, but he always was a strange sort.

"Mid-December 1994, I saw you at the bar at the Hilton."

"Yes, Lieu-," Sharon catches herself, "yes, Flynn, I think we've established that part."

"So you do remember?"

"Sleeping with you, yes," she tightly replies.

"Oh, no it was more than that," he says with a smug grin.

"Fine," Raydor says as she crosses her arms and glares at him, "I remember having sex with you. And if you dare think about spreading such a thing all over the department…"

"Don't flatter yourself," Flynn quips, "besides, that's not my style."

"Thank God for that," she tosses back, her reply full of sarcasm. Flynn leans closer to her then, his gaze staring through her as if she is a suspect in some crime.

"You're a smart woman, Sharon, so it shouldn't be so hard for you to connect the dots here. When was Daniel born? I'm guessing probably late August, early September 1995." Flynn doesn't fill a surge of pleasure like he thought he would when the realization of what he is getting at starts to dawn on Sharon. He does feel frustrated that she's being so dimwitted about this, especially since for him it's all completely obvious.

"I don't believe it. My son is not yours."

"Now, granted I was pretty wasted pretty much all the time back then," Flynn continues, ignoring her denial, "but I am pretty certain I didn't use any protection." Raydor, however isn't paying attention to him. She stumbles the foot or so to the sofa and collapses on it. Flynn stops talking, his own revelation that Raydor may not be lying to him sinking in. "Wait, you didn't ever think this?"

"I told you, it was a rough time for me," her voice is weak, almost a whisper. Flynn chastises himself for the hope that she doesn't start to cry. But Sharon Raydor is tougher than that, and she bites back any tears that threaten to spill. "My husband, we were separated and it was bad." She swallows, choosing her next words carefully, debating how much she wants to reveal to him.

"I know you come from money, Sharon. It's not a well-kept secret."

She frowns, then shrugs, "Well then you can likely understand why it was messy. Rick wasn't from money. Anyway, there was a time at Christmas, we…"

"So you got back together?"

"Yes, briefly. When I found out I was pregnant, I just assumed."

"Or you convinced yourself," Flynn interjects. Standing, he locates the mini bar and goes to it. "You want a drink?"

"I thought you didn't?"

"I don't, but it doesn't mean you can't." He opens the small refrigerator and smiles as he spots the ginger ales. "I'll have one of these," he says holding one up. "There's whiskey, rum, isn't that what you liked?"

"Water, if you don't mind. I'm not sure I want to drink anything around you anytime soon." To Sharon's surprise, Flynn's smile increases at the quip. "That amuses you?"

"Well, if drinking is what gets your guard down."

"I don't understand you," she sighs, continuing at the sight of his questioning look. "One minute you're so infuriated that I fear you'll choke me, and in the next you're cracking jokes."

Flynn shrugs, walking over to hand her a small bottle of water while he opens the ginger ale. "You just have that effect on me, I guess. Now," he says, sitting back down in the chair, "can you at least admit to the possibility that Daniel could be mine?" Sharon sips her water, quiet and contemplative. Flynn lets the silence fall between them, just happy that she is no longer eyeing her purse and she no longer appears to be on the verge of crying. He doesn't realize she's staring at him for long enough to ask himself how long she's been staring at him. "What?"

"Where were you?"

"Huh?"

"You didn't do the math all those years ago? It took you this long to learn how to add?" She says it with a straight face, but it's the condescending tone that gets him. Flynn's spine goes rigid, his jaw sets, and he decides that she's better at interrogating people than he first thought. "Well?"

He takes a sip of his soda and gives her a sheepish shrug. "You got me." Raydor raises an eyebrow. "Provenza and I were at the game Saturday."

"The Dodger's game? That's what you meant by seeing me at the ballpark."

"Seeing you and Danny."

"And what? Suddenly everything became crystal clear?"

Flynn leans his elbows on his knees, dropping his head. "Actually no. Provenza noticed that Danny looked a lot like my son, Jesse. He's a little older than Danny, but the similarity was too much for Louie to let go. And, well, when I saw him…" Flynn trails off, taking a breath before adding, "If he's mine, I want to do right by him." Sharon's chuckle brings his head up, "That's funny to you?"

She shakes her head, "If you're serious about that, well, even with your troubled past you'd be better than Rick."

"Troubled past?"

"You didn't remember sleeping with me because you blacked out afterward, didn't you?" She holds his gaze until he feels his face flushing and forces himself to look away. "Did you even remember having sex?"

"Yes, I remembered," He snips, "I just didn't remember with who." He looks up, seeing Raydor's frown. "I remembered your perfume, which you still wear right?" She nods. "That's probably why I never liked that perfume." At her scowl he continues, "Well, you just left and there I was with no idea what had happened and with one helluva hangover."

"If I recall, that wasn't out of the norm for you then, was it?" It's his turn to scowl. "Fourteen years sober?"

"Yes."

"How many more blackouts did you have after that night?"

"Not that many," Flynn's expression is on the edge of rage. "I won't let you use my past against me, Sharon. If he's mine, don't think I won't fight you to see him. I won't let you do me the same way—"

"If Daniel is yours," she cuts in, "and that's a very doubtful if, we will figure out how and if –"

"When."

"If," she pauses, "when it's conclusive that you are."

Andy gives her a questioning stare. "Do you think I'm going to just take the similarity of your son and mine as proof that Daniel is yours?" Flynn opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself then slowly shakes his head. "Exactly. You of all people should know that more than just a hunch is required here. It's one thing for you to turn my life upside down over a gut feeling, but I'll be damned if you do that to my son." She huffs out the statement, but tries to soften the blow at the sight of the fire in Flynn's eyes. "I know you aren't doing this lightly, Andy." She smiles then, a sad sort of smile that draws him closer to her, has him leaning toward her. "How would you feel if some guy showed up when you were almost 16 and said what you believed your entire life was a lie?"

Andy sighs, "Yeah, I see your point. But if you think I'm going to just let him be out there and never—"

Raydor holds up her hand to stop him, "I'm not saying that, Andy. I just want a DNA test. Can't you admit that that is a fair request?"

He purses his lips, and then huffs out a long sigh. "Yes, fine. But I want one now, not later this week or next or."

"No, that's fair. This isn't going away, so we might as well get it over with." Sharon removes her glasses and rubs at the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she does. "I'll figure out something to tell him just in case."

"And when the test comes back?"

"Then I'll figure out what to tell him."

"You won't keep him—" Flynn's words get stuck in his throat at the sight of Raydor's glare, which he can only adequately describe as one of a mother lion on the verge of attack.

"If Daniel is yours and you dump him in a few months after the newness has worn off, I swear to you, Andy Flynn that you will regret ever remembering our one night together. He's had too much disappointment in his life from his father so far, and I will not have another one come along just to hurt him more. Do you understand me?"

In that moment, Flynn realizes that Sharon Raydor is indeed a wicked witch; however, he can't find one reason to fault her for being so.