Light In The Dark

by Kate04

Chapter Three – Don't Wake Me Up

Time: About two years after the events of Chapter Two

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Sharon found Sergeant Flynn in the break room of the Robbery-Homicide department, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Good, she thought, that should sober him up. She took a deep breath before she walked over to the counter and leaned against it, facing him. She waited for him to acknowledge her presence, her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised expectantly.

"I wondered how long it would take for one of you to come find me." He still didn't look at her, busying himself with making more coffee.

"And here I am. I suppose you know what I want to talk about?"

Andy finally turned towards her, letting his eyes travel over her. It had been a while since they'd last run into each other – almost two years, if he wasn't mistaken. He still remembered that rainy night and the warmth in her tone as she had reassured him. She had looked a lot softer back then. He studied her dark grey suit, the immaculately styled hair and the firm set of her jaw. Her tone, while not unfriendly, lacked any kind of warmth. It looked like she had actually turned into one of the rat squad. That fact did nothing to elevate his mood. He gave her a derisive sneer before he turned back to the coffee machine.

"Yeah, I can guess. Alright, let me have it." He spread his arms in a gesture of mock surrender, looking at her expectantly.

"Sergeant, this is no joke. You punched a superior officer in the face. You're very lucky that he threw the first punch and that there were witnesses. Otherwise that little stunt would've cost you your badge."

She studied him as his gaze rested on the black liquid in his cup. She could tell that her last statement had gotten through to him. Sharon Raydor knew more about alcohol abuse than she would like to. She had seen it almost every day for many years, before she had kicked her husband out. The slightly unfocused look and the overly deliberate movements spoke of a late night with a bottle, an early morning with a hangover and a glass of whiskey or two to take off the edge. It was mid-morning now, so it was a safe bet that he was still over the legal limit.

When the silence between them stretched on for longer than he could take, Andy gave her a seemingly indifferent shrug.

"So what? Am I suspended now?"

For a moment, Sharon was tempted to say yes. She wasn't very receptive to his tone, and the fact that he didn't seem to take this seriously, nor even fear she'd know he was drunk. She did recognize the typical behavioral pattern of an addict who had stopped caring.

Before heading down to talk to him, she had looked into his personnel file and had done some digging. She'd found out that his wife had filed for divorce a while ago. It certainly explained his morose mood and the deteriorating condition.

He wasn't the first officer she'd seen go down that road. The nature of their jobs often led to excessive drinking and problematic personal relationships. She had seen so many good officers trying to find solace at the bottom of a bottle after they lost their families to the job, only to lose their job to the bottle. She would be damned if Andy Flynn was one of them. She couldn't change the fact that he'd lost his family, but she wouldn't let him toss away his career. From what she'd read and heard about him, he was a good cop.

"No, you're not suspended – yet. You and Lieutenant Sanders are going to attend a two-week anger management seminar. You will spend those two weeks sitting next to each other and you will behave like the adults you're supposed to be."

His lips curled in distaste, but Sergeant Flynn gave her a curt nod.

"Yes, ma'am. Is that all?"

He was clearly impatient to get away from her, but Sharon wasn't done with him, yet.

"No, that's not all. We both know what the result would be if I were to let you take a blood alcohol test right now and what the consequences of that result would be. I realise that you have a lot going on in your personal life right now and I'm willing to look the other way this one time. I do, however, expect you to get a handle on this problem, immediately."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in and Sharon could see the exact moment when they did. His eyes darkened, anger scrawled across his face, his entire body tense with it. For a second she thought he might hit something, but his clenched fists remained at his side.

"I don't know who you think you are, lady, but keep your nose out of my personal life. It's none of your business what I do once I punch out. I don't need you or anyone else telling me what I should or shouldn't do about my problems."

His loud voice echoed in the small room and Sharon fought the need to step back from the unpleasantly loud noise. She gave him a hard stare, not letting his open antagonism intimidate her. She was cutting him serious slack and was a little sad that he couldn't see that.

"You're right, your personal problems are none of my business, but when you turn up at work under the influence, what you do after hours becomes my business. Let me be perfectly clear here. I expect you to pack your things and go home. I expect you to sleep it off and then go out to find an AA meeting. I expect you to do whatever it takes to get a handle on your drinking, because the next time I catch you showing up here while drunk – or even just slightly intoxicated – I will personally make sure that you lose your badge."

Andy stared at her, rage boiling in the pit of his stomach, his head pounding frantically. Her ice-cold look and this infuriatingly calm tone only incensed him further. There was a very faint voice at the back of his head, which warned him to keep his mouth shut, but he ignored it as he often did these days.

"You want to have me fired? Is that it? You know what – why don't you just take my badge and my gun right now and get it over with? Let's spare both of us the trouble."

He shouted at her, almost standing on her toes as he fumbled to untangle his badge and holster from his belt. It made her mad. Not the shouting, not his anger. That, she could understand. What had her lose her mantle of calm control was his resignation. It was so common in addicts. She had seen it in her own husband. It had been easier for him to just slink away into the night than to turn around and fight for his family. He had given up, because he wasn't strong enough to change.

In the back of her mind, Sharon wondered why she cared so much about Sergeant Flynn. There was nothing special about him, nothing that distinguished him from all the other alcoholics she'd been dealing with over the last two years. Yet, here she was, standing toe to toe with him, trying to – what? Get him to admit he had a problem? Bully him into getting help? What was it she was trying to accomplish? Whatever it was that drove her, it made her angry and she let him see that.

"Of course, just give up. Why should you fight for your career, anyway? You didn't fight for your family. Just throw in the towel before you even try to do something about it. Maybe you're right; maybe you're not worth the trouble, but I won't let you throw away your career like this. What else do you have right now, huh? What is your big plan after getting fired? Want to buy a bar and spend the rest of your days drinking up all your profits? Is that it?"

Her own voice had risen during her rant and she wondered briefly where the anger came from, when he suddenly took a step towards her and forced her back against the counter with his body. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue trailing along their soft lines urgently. She gasped in surprise and he took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hips grinding against hers, his hands buried in her hair.

Arousal shot through her like a bolt of lightning and she melted into him for a few short seconds, her eyes drifting shut, her hands rising to grab his head. She was back in the tiny bathroom stall, where her entire universe was lust and strong muscles, intense kisses and his impossibly hard length. She felt it now, pressed against her belly and she thought about the feeling of it deep inside her.

The sound of her own moan jolted her out of her thoughts and she gave his shoulders a hard push. He stumbled back a few steps and they both stared at each other, out of breath and flushed with anger and arousal.

When she finally found her voice is was dangerously quiet, her eyes dark with suppressed indignation.

"Are you desperate for a sexual harassment charge on top of everything else, Sergeant? Because if you are, you're doing a really fine job."

Digging for her small notebook in the inside pocket of her blazer, all Sharon could find was a business card. She decided that it would do just as well and, taking her pen out, she wrote an address onto the back of the card and handed it to the pleasantly silent Sergeant.

"This is the address of a church in your neighbourhood. There's an AA meeting every Thursday at seven. I strongly suggest you go there today."

Her tone made clear that it wasn't a suggestion. When his hands closed around the card, more out of reflex than an actual willingness to take it, she turned around to leave. Not being one to let someone else have the last word, Andy couldn't help getting in one last shot.

"You know, I liked you better when I didn't know who you were."

Sharon snorted, but didn't turn around as she mumbled her reply.

"Yeah, so did I."

For a long moment, Andy stared at the door, even after it had closed behind the annoying little brunette spitfire. He hated her, mostly because she seemed to care and the scent of her perfume made the blood leave his head for other parts. He did go home as requested, but was determined to ignore her "suggestion" to check out the meeting. After spending the entire afternoon alternately staring at a bottle of bourbon and the card with the address of that church, he somehow ended up in front of the building anyway.

Taking a deep breath and cursing her for getting into his head, Andy followed the small crowd of people up the stairs.