Monday, 2:30 am

Sharon stared into the cup of coffee clutched in her hands, her third since Andy Flynn showed up what felt like days ago. He was pacing in the kitchen, on the phone with someone. He'd made the coffee for her. Her sons were sitting quietly on the couch, terrified. Sharon leaned in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, too anxious to sit still.

Emma still hadn't come home. Sharon had tried to convince herself that the girl would turn up, but her years in law enforcement had taught her to expect the worst.

Sharon had always worried about her children. When they were infants, the worry was that they would stop breathing in their cribs one night. And then they learned to walk, and Sharon worried that one day they would fall and she wouldn't be there to catch them. And then they went to school, and she worried about crazy people with guns. And then Emma was old enough to drive, and Sharon was terrified of getting that phone call.

And before tonight, her worrying had seemed foolish. She was just a mother, and mothers worry about their children and most of the time nothing ever happens. And then today her baby wasn't coming home and Sharon had no idea where she was, and a thousand awful scenarios, things Sharon had actually seen happen to other people's babies, were playing over and over in her mind.

Andy hadn't told her she was overreacting. He had put out a BOLO on Emma's car. He had wanted to call the Chief from the moment he walked in the door, but Sharon had told him not to. Sharon wanted to wait. She wanted to believe that Emma was going to come traipsing through the door, drunk or high or just out too late with the wrong people, and Sharon would hug her ferociously, and then yell at her for hours.

But Emma hadn't come home.

Andy finished his phone call and approached Sharon slowly, watching for some sign of trouble on her face.

"What did they say?" Sharon asked, hating the distressed tone of her voice. A thousand hopes had sprung up in her mind, momentarily outweighing her fears.

And then she got a look at Andy's face, and her hopes vanished as quickly as they had come.

Andy reached out, and took Sharon by the hand, leading her into the kitchen, out of earshot of the boys.

Tears leapt to the corners of her eyes.

People liked to believe that Sharon was a cold-hearted bitch, but the truth was, Sharon's heart was bigger than anyone ever realized. She could cry. She did cry. Andy knew this about her, and he knew how what he was about to say was going to affect her.

"Sharon," he said quietly, and the first of those tears found its way down her cheek.

"Jesus, Andy-"

"They didn't find her," he said quickly, cutting her off. "They've found her car. The Chief's on her way over here with the rest of the squad."

The coffee mug slipped out of her hand and shattered on the floor.

Lee and Sam spun around from their perch on the couch, just in time to see Andy Flynn wrap his arms around their mother.

Monday, 3:15 am

Sharon didn't want all these people in her house. She knew what they were doing, why they needed to be here, but she didn't want them. Didn't want Major Crimes touching her things, browsing through her life like it was just another crime scene.

The Deputy Chief was trying to talk to Sharon, but she wasn't really listening.

"Captain, are you listening to me?" Brenda asked, and Sharon's eyes snapped back to her face. Sharon saw the pity in Brenda's face and knew she must look like shit.

"I'm sorry, Chief, what were you saying?"

Brenda stared at Sharon for a moment, and Sharon almost laughed. How different this interaction seemed in comparison to their usual conversations. Ordinarily Brenda did everything but stick her fingers in her ears and hum to ignore Sharon, and now Sharon was the one who wasn't listening. The one who couldn't focus on what was actually happening in the moment.

"I was asking, Captain, about Emma's father," Brenda said, with an admirable calm in her voice.

Sharon didn't know why, but her eyes immediately sought out Andy Flynn across the room. She kept looking for him, and he kept close to her. As close as he could without anyone getting suspicious. She found she gathered strength from having him near. As strange as that was.

"Captain?" Brenda prompted, her patience wearing thin. Sharon was impressed it had lasted this long.

"Emma's father is dead, Chief," Sharon said coldly, her eyes returning to the blonde in front of her. "Several years now. So you don't have to worry about him." She didn't mean to sound as heartless in that moment as she did, but Mitch had been dead to her long before he actually stopped breathing. As harsh as it seemed to think it in this moment, Sharon couldn't help but feel his death had been a happy accident.

Brenda looked as though she honestly couldn't think of anything to say to that, and Sharon was saved any further explanation by the appearance of Provenza, with a pained look on his face and a white box in his hand.

Sharon's heart felt as though it had fallen straight through her chest and splattered on the ground like her coffee mug.

"Uh, Chief," Provenza began, shooting Sharon a look that was both somewhat apologetic and somewhat appreciative, "we were conducing the standard search of the house and we found something we thought you might wanna see."

Brenda had begun to walk in Provenza's direction when Andy reached out and stopped her with a gentle touch on her shoulder.

"Chief, I have it on good authority that today is the Captain's birthday. I really don't think a birthday present is going to help us find Emma."

Sharon could have kicked him in that moment. He might as well have jumped up and down waving a sign that said "I BOUGHT THE WICKED WITCH FANCY PANTIES" in glowing letters.

"Today's your birthday, Captain?" Brenda asked, wheeling around.

Sharon felt like she was drowning. Too many people in her house, too many questions, and her boys were all alone in the living room (with about nine uniformed officers) and they had to be as anxious as she was and surely they could use her more than the Chief could and no matter what she said they'd figure out that the present was from Andy, and she was fucked eighteen ways from Friday and she just wanted to hold her daughter in her arms and pretend none of this had happened-

Sharon just nodded, tight lipped.

"Well, who's the present from, Captain?"

There was no way in hell she was going to answer that.

Sharon started to brush past the three of them, but Andy stood directly in her way, with a look on his face that said, oh no, if I have to deal with this bullshit then you do, too.

"No one, Chief, it really isn't important."

Which was the wrong thing to say because Brenda took the box from Provenza and her eyes got wide as dinner plates as she opened it.

For just a moment Sharon felt triumphant. None of these people (with the exception of Andy) knew a goddamned thing about her, and she was going to show them, show all of them, that she was so much more than they gave her credit for.

"Uh, Chief, there's a card," Provenza said, gesturing delicately with his hand, as if he was afraid to touch the lingerie in the box. Sharon really did laugh then, a short, nasty sounding bark of a laugh. Provenza was afraid to touch her panties.

Brenda reached gingerly into the box, and pulled out the card. She opened it, and read it. Her face went pale. She read the card again.

Sharon bit her lip, waiting.

Andy's hand brushed against hers, briefly.

"Lieutenant Flynn," Brenda said in a deadly quiet voice, "Can I speak with you a moment?" She walked away, and Flynn followed her, his face a mask. Sharon just sighed, and went into the living room to sit with her sons.

None of this was going to help them find Emma. Every minute the Chief wasted trying to figure out Sharon's love life was a moment not spent trying to figure out where Sharon's eighteen-year-old daughter was.

Monday, 3:30 am

"Lieutenant Flynn, would you mind telling me why you bought Captain Raydor underwear for her birthday?"

Well, Andy had never imagined he'd ever be asked that particular question.

"It's her birthday, Chief," he answered with a shrug.

"Lieutenant!" Brenda cried, stomping her foot.

"She likes underwear," he said, trying not to smile at the Chief's bewilderment. "Nice underwear," he corrected, and then braced himself in case the Chief hit him or something. He wouldn't put it past her.

"But we- you hate her!" Brenda sputtered, genuinely confused.

"Well, yeah, Chief, I guess I kinda do. But Sharon's… she's…well it's her birthday, and I always get her something nice on her birthday. "

Gabriel appeared then, his face drawn, tense, a cell phone clutched to his ear. "Yeah, ok.. yeah, I'll tell her… yeah, thanks," he said, and hung up the phone.

"Uh, Chief," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, "I think we got a lead."

"What?" Andy asked, suddenly fearful. They needed as many leads as they could get right now, but he worried about what he was going to have to tell Sharon when he went back into the living room.

"Well, does the name Marcus Alexander mean anything to anyone?"

Andy Flynn slammed his fist down onto the surface of Sharon's kitchen table with so much force it was a wonder he didn't break every bone in his hand.

Eleven years before

Andy sat on Sharon's bed, watching Sharon run her fingers through her long, dark hair, ogling her curves draped in nothing but the moonlight drifting in through the cracks in the blinds on the window.

"God, you're gorgeous," he told her, and she smirked at him softly.

"And you promised you'd leave two hours ago," she told him.

"But it was such a good two hours," he said, and Sharon laughed.

He reached out and grabbed her hips, pulling her back onto his lap. She squealed, a sound no one would ever believe Sharon Raydor made, but she did, and he loved it. He kissed her behind her ear, and she sighed, leaning back against him.

"We've only got tonight," he said quietly, nibbling on her ear lobe, and he felt her shiver, naked in his arms.

"That's not true," she said, but they both knew she was lying.

His hands splayed out across the smooth plans of her stomach, and she toyed with his fingertips as he kissed a path across the back of her neck. They both knew that this was as much as they would ever have. A few stolen nights when they fell into bed, laughing together as they found the only method that had ever worked at keeping the darkness at bay. Andy, whose ex-wife hated him and wouldn't let him near their kids. Sharon, whose ex-husband had left her for a twenty-something piece of ass, and took her babies away from her twice a month. Sharon and Andy, who together saw the darkest sides of human life everyday. And somehow had to continue to function in society anyway.

Andy's hands were inching northward from Sharon's stomach, and she didn't stop him, dropping her own hands down onto his bare thighs below her, pressing back further against him. She could feel him hardening against her hip, and somehow, she knew that this was the only way she could forget her fears, for however brief a time.

His hands found her breasts even as his mouth returned to that spot behind her ear, that place that made her insides feel like jelly, and she moaned softly when he kissed her skin and ran his fingers over the hardened nubs of her nipples.

Andy loved this more than anything. Making Sharon forget all the things that made her so scared, so sad all the time. He loved seeing Sharon the way she really was, all softness and light. It was such a rare sight, Sharon laid bare before him, that he cursed their fate. Sharon had been hurt too much to ever truly give her heart to him, and Andy had failed too many times to ever truly be trusted with it.

One of his hands snaked between her perfect legs, and she turned her head to capture his mouth in a kiss, his tongue passing through her lips as his fingers slipped up and through her folds. She grinned against his mouth, and he pulled them backwards to lie on the bed, his fingers never leaving her heat, even when he slowly turned her over on top of him. She made a sound that was almost a whimper as his fingers twisted inside her, and bucked her hips against him. He was almost painfully hard, straining against the cotton of his boxers, but he wanted this for her first. Wanted to see her face.

His free hand found its way to her cheek, holding her there above him as he fucked her with his fingers, and she moved on top of him, perfect and happy, for now. And when she came whatever was left of the tension that usually marred her flawless face disappeared, and she shuddered before she collapsed, draped across his chest.

He started to tell her he loved her, but he thought better of it. He couldn't love her, not really, not the way she deserved, and even if he could, he knew she wouldn't let him. So he held her close, guiding her as she came back down.

She tilted her face up and kissed him then, long and slow, as if they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. It was hard for him to remember that there was a world outside this bed when he held her like this.

"Andy," she breathed, and everything she needed and wanted was conveyed in the sound of his name falling from her lips. He flipped them, and her hands found their way to his waist, pulling his boxers down.

She guided him inside her, and God she felt perfect, wrapped around him. He found his rhythm quickly, hating himself for pounding into her this way, but she was practically screaming in his ear and he needed this now.

They came together, that time, and the sounds of their union almost drowned out the ringing of the phone.

Almost.

As soon as he could, he leaned over her, reaching for the phone, his softening cock still buried inside her. He lifted the phone and handed it to her, and she answered it breathlessly.

He couldn't stop himself from dropping kisses along her jaw, even as she struggled to listen to whoever was talking on the other end of the line.

And then Sharon reached up and stopped him herself, her face deadly serious.

He stayed there, suspended above her, still inside her, waiting.

She hung up the phone, and pushed him off.

"Sharon-"

"We have to go, Andy," she said, searching desperately for something. "Marcus Alexander just killed another girl. Goddamnit, where's my underwear?"

"Here," he said, climbing off the bed and reaching for the little white box she still hadn't opened. The one with the red bow on it. "Wear these."

She took the box from him, staring at him in surprise. "Happy Birthday, Sharon," he said. "Let's go."

She didn't get a chance to read the card.