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Twice Into The Same Stream

Chapter 2

by Kate04

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October 2004

Andy Flynn didn't like weddings. Maybe it was because his own marriage hadn't turned out too well. He really couldn't remember if his cynical view of all the fuss people made over that one day had always been there or if it had crept up on him as his relationship with Amanda had deteriorated. Years ago, when these things had been too annoying to take, he had simply gotten drunk and for a few moments he wished that was still an option. The thought of a large glass of bourbon was heavenly, the sound of ice clinking happily as he swirled the amber liquid, the distinct smell and the refreshing burn as it made its way down his throat to start a little fire of comfort in his stomach. Fortunately, the open bar only served wine and champagne, neither of which he had ever particularly cared for. Those were the advantages of attending the wedding of an AA pal.

He and Marcus had met years ago at their first AA meeting and had ended up developing a weird sort of friendship that had been interrupted occasionally, whenever Marcus had fallen off the wagon, which had happened quite frequently in the beginning. The last time he returned had been only two years ago, more serious about his recovery than he had been before. They had grown closer since then as they spent hours and hours talking about their lives and problems over coffee after meetings. With the way the other man had always talked about his family and friends, Andy had the feeling that he knew them all a little bit, but as he stood there alone in the middle of that huge crowd in the large ballroom of Berkley's best hotel, he felt out of place. It had never occurred to him how limited one's knowledge of a person could be if they were only part of one particular aspect of one's life. He might have heard a lot about the man's personal history and the people who had influenced it, but that was a far cry from experiencing all those things friends usually did together like suffering through family dinners and getting yelled at by a friend's wife because of something or another they might or might not have done to get in trouble.

Observing how welcoming and warm everyone was towards Marcus filled him with a jealousy he had no desire to feel. He should be happy for the younger man, that he didn't have to go through the same hell with the people around him as Andy. It was easier said than done however, when he wanted nothing more than for his ex-wife and children to forgive him, to get a chance to be the father he knew he could be now that he was sober. He could not blame them for being cautious because he had been a terrible husband and father, had disappointed them so many times that their refusal to let him be part of their lives was only natural. Understanding the reason behind it did not make it hurt less, however.

Nursing his cranberry and soda, Andy tried hard not to let his unpleasant thoughts show on his face. He had no intention of being the grumpy, frowning guy every large celebration seemed to have. This was Marcus' day and he had no business ruining it with his own morose thoughts, even if he had reason enough to feel bad. Not for the first time that night did he think about just getting into his car and heading back to LA. The plan had been to stay at the hotel with the other guests to avoid the long late night trip, even though he would be sober and able to drive. It was simply a matter of convenience. In addition to that, he had looked forward to spending the night in a nice hotel room with his very pretty date. However, that had not quite worked out the way he had planned. Only an hour into the reception, the pretty blonde had spotted someone a short distance from them and excused herself, explaining that the large, muscular guy she was staring at with wide eyes was an old friend. The way she had said that had given him a pretty good idea what kind of friend he was. She had not returned to his side since, and it had been several hours, long enough for him to get the message; he had been dumped for a younger man. It was not so much his heart that was hurt as his ego. They had only met a few weeks ago and had not done much more than explore their physical compatibility. Beyond that, they didn't really have a lot in common. She was young and pretty, a little naïve and not terribly bright, but she knew how to show him a good time and up until a few hours ago she seemed to have enjoyed his company as well. Then things had changed, making him feel pathetic and old and used up. Maybe he really should stop going for those young chicks. But they liked him, they didn't want more than he was willing to give, and he didn't have to be afraid to get too invested emotionally. That was something he had left behind when he had signed his divorce papers. Love was a ship that had sailed for him long ago and he was content that way.

There really was not much for him there anymore and he was getting ready to leave, looking for the bride and groom from his quiet corner. As he let his eyes wander over the ocean of dancing, drinking and laughing people, a forced smile firmly in place, he spotted a familiar figure on the other side of the dance floor. She wore a midnight blue, floor length dress that hugged her figure nicely. With her hip leaned against a table behind her and nursing a glass of wine, she appeared somewhat lost. The way she observed the crowd, her expression aloof, almost wistful, she exuded a vulnerability and softness he would never have expected to see in Captain Sharon Raydor.

Theirs had always been an interesting relationship. He was a hothead with a rather relaxed view of rules and regulations, someone who tended to speak before thinking things through. Sharon Raydor was the exact opposite and whenever they had run into each other in the past, she had made it abundantly clear that she did not appreciate his attitude. They snarked, they yelled, she sent him to anger management courses or sensitivity training or some other course he definitely did not need, and he yelled at her some more for being unnecessarily mean. There was always a certain tension between them. It was not entirely annoyance or hostility, at least on his side. She irritated him more than anyone else, but with the anger-induced rise in blood pressure always came something else, a tingle down his spine, a twitch in his fingers from the urge to thread them through her hair, a tightening of his lips as he tried to keep his tongue from moistening them as he thought about nibbling on her lower lip. She tended to pout a little whenever she got really annoyed and it never failed to get his blood pumping, even more so because he was certain that she was unaware of that habit. And then she did that thing where she planted her hands flat on her desk to glare at him with those bright green eyes and it gave him a spectacular view of her cleavage, making other parts of his anatomy perk up.

Sometimes, he would catch a certain look in her eyes, a spark lighting them up even more, and he could almost believe that she felt it too. That was a ridiculous notion, however. She hated his guts for being a pain in her backside. There was no way she wanted to do anything other than club him over the head with something solid. Why every part of his body was alight with fire at the thought of holding her close to him while they swayed to the soft music was a mystery to him. She would never allow it. She probably wouldn't even want to talk to him now that she did not have to. Andy knew that the wisest choice would be to walk away, to retrieve his bag from the room he did not intend to use and head back to LA where he could forget about that horrible day, where the temptation of Sharon Raydor in an evening gown was far away. His ego definitely did not need another rejection in the same day. And yet his eyes seemed unwilling to move away from her, lingering on every curve, on the way her hips gently swayed to the music, her eyes occasionally closing to savor it. She looked sensual and it added an unexpected dimension to the person he was familiar with from work, making it even more impossible to walk away. She was a mystery and, being a cop, he simply could not leave it unsolved. Resolved to just observe her from a distance and see how many other unknown aspects of her personality he might uncover, he settled back against the wall and kept observing.

Sensual, sad, relaxed, lonely, lost, radiant – there were so many different emotions on her face, in the way she held her body, moved, sipped from her wine, and let her gaze linger on the boisterous crowd. There was no hint of the kick-ass, no nonsense police captain she was at work. In that moment, she was completely woman, vulnerable and lovely, making him want to protect her, which was ridiculous because she was more than capable of protecting herself. She would never tolerate what she would call his blatant chauvinism, had in fact told him so many times. So why did his feet carry him across the room towards her? Why did he have this irrepressible need to talk to her, to get to know the person she was when she didn't carry her badge? What did he even want to say to her? There was not a terrible lot they had to talk about apart from a little polite small talk, if she even let him get that far. It was a terrible idea to approach her, but he seemed to be unable to stop himself. Making his way along the back wall of the room, avoiding the crush of bodies on the dance floor, he approached her from the side. She looked in the other direction and did not notice him next to her, which gave him the opportunity to study her elegant neck, the partly bared shoulders and the tantalizing view her generous neckline offered. Before he started to feel too creepy, Andy quietly announced his presence.

"Fancy meeting you here. You come here often?"

- TBC -