Light In The Dark

by Kate04

Chapter Four – Firedance

Time: About two years after the events of chapter 3 or four years after the events of "Tears On Her Dark Face"

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The hot water warmed her skin and muscles, loosening tight knots and melting away some of the unbearable tension in her shoulders. The unpleasant coldness in the pit of her stomach, however, did not disappear. Even the scalding peppermint tea didn't help, and for a moment Sharon regretted choosing it over a glass of wine or two. Considering that the reason for her current misery was her addict husband, she had decided that trying to drown her problems in a bottle was not the way she went about her life. It was a slippery slope, as she had witnessed over the last six years.

Sharon let her head fall back against the wall and closed her eyes. They had been married for twelve years already. It was hard to believe, but then again, he had been gone for four of those years.

After tossing him out four years ago, Sharon had discovered that the drinking and cheating was her smallest problem. It had been the gambling that had almost ruined her family. A couple of weeks after he had returned home to find his packed suitcase on the front porch and the door locked and bolted, Sharon had fished several unpleasant letters out of the mailbox.

The following two months they had spent without cable, telephone and hot water and Sharon had pulled as many additional shifts as humanly possible, and then some. It hadn't been easy to dig them out of the mountain of debt her husband's gambling addiction had amassed and she was still working on it, but they had survived. Her children always had a roof over their heads and food on their plates. She had filed for legal separation as soon as the money for a lawyer could be spared and she slept easier knowing that he wouldn't be able to clean out her bank account again.

And then, six months ago, he had returned, sober, with a good job in the city and full of promises. She had been reluctant to believe him at first, had let him spend a few evenings a week with the children, always keeping an eye on them to make sure they would be alright. Then she had been promoted to Lieutenant and they had all celebrated together – once again a family. She had wanted that normal life so much, mostly for her children, but also for herself. All his shortcomings aside, she still loved Jack and missed him desperately as did their children. The thought of giving their marriage another try had been too tempting and she had let him move in again four months ago. They were still legally separated and she had insisted on maintaining separate bank accounts, despite his assurances that the gambling wasn't an issue anymore.

Now she was endlessly grateful for standing her ground. This afternoon, she had finally sat him down to talk about his contribution to the upkeep of their family. She tried to make him understand that his children might love the presents he frequently brought home for them, but that those did not help get them fed and clothed or paid for the mortgage on the house they lived in.

Up until that day, she had tried subtle hints and sweet seduction, but neither had brought the desired result. She hadn't wanted to be the nagging wife, but he had left her no other option. Making sure her children were out with friends for the night, Sharon had prepared to try a more direct approach, realising that it would probably result in a fight. Jack had never been particularly receptive to any of her suggestions, especially when they were inconvenient for him.

Of course she had been right about his reaction. He had stared at her while she had been talking, occasionally shaking his head. Once she had been done, he'd given her his special look – condescending and full of pity. He had made it all about her. She was the problem, she was the one who made this marriage impossible to maintain with her insanely high expectations, her constant nagging and her infuriating lack of trust. How was he supposed to make it work if she refused to let him in, to truly be a part of their lives again? He had called her cold-hearted and manipulative and many other unpleasant things, before he had told her that he was sick and tired of being turned into the bad guy all the time. It had taken him less than half an hour to pack all his things and vanish from their lives once again.

As the door closed behind him with a bang, Sharon grabbed the vase with a beautiful bouquet of red roses off the kitchen table and hurled it against the wall. Shards of glass and rose petals scattered everywhere, as Sharon leaned against the fridge and slid down to the floor, hugging her knees close to her body and letting her head drop forward to rest on them. She didn't cry. Instead, she began to shake uncontrollably, her entire being cold with anger, betrayal and loneliness.

The shaking had stopped eventually, even as the coldness had seemed to have settled in her bones. Sharon had no idea how long she had stayed on the floor like that before getting up to run a bath in an attempt to warm up.

The doorbell drew her out of her musings and for a moment she considered ignoring it. The thought that it might be one of the kids made her change her mind, though. Ricky frequently forgot his keys and was currently going through one of those phases where he suddenly got desperately homesick.

Climbing out of the tub, Sharon quickly pulled a bathrobe over her dripping body, hastily closing it while running down the stairs. Before she opened the door, she tightened the belt of her robe once more and made sure she was decently covered. Her thoughts lingered on the pools of water she left on the hardwood floor for a second, putting mopping the floor on her mental to-do list.

When she opened the door, expecting to see her son and one of his best friend's parents on her porch, surprise did not adequately describe her reaction at whom she found there instead.

Sergeant Andy Flynn looked rumpled, unshaven, his tie askew and his hair messy. Whenever she had run into him in the last four years, he had always looked immaculate, not a hair out of place. Maybe she should find it odd that her mind lingered on his unusually messy looks when his presence in front of her door should have been a much more puzzling occurrence.

He looked truly terrible, and it wasn't just his outward appearance. His face drawn and his eyes dark with pain, he presented a picture of pure misery and Sharon almost gasped at the sight. Apparently, she wasn't the only one having a rotten day and she swallowed any questions about why he was here and how he actually knew where she lived for the time being. Stepping aside, she gestured for him to come in and led him through to the living room.

A tiny voice at the back of her head voiced its concern about his presence in her home and her easy acceptance of it, but she recognized the familiar feelings of anger, betrayal and loneliness in him and it bridged the gap between two not quite strangers.

She motioned for him to sit on the couch, before she walked into the kitchen to prepare more tea. Hers was still sitting on the shelf above the bathtub and probably cold by now, anyway. Careful not to step into the broken glass that was still scattered on the kitchen floor, she put on the water. As she turned around, she found Andy leaning against the doorframe, his eyes riveted to the mess her earlier outburst had created. She should probably feel embarrassed to have someone witness the evidence of one of her less than stellar moments, but she was too exhausted to worry about that or the consequences it might have later on.

As it was, he just raised a questioning eyebrow, no judgment evident in his expression. Her quiet tone belied the seemingly unconcerned shrug and the levity of her words as she replied to his unspoken question.

"Bad day."

With that she turned back towards the boiling water and finished preparing their tea. Behind her, Andy's snort told her he understood that it was somewhat of an understatement and that he could relate.

Two steaming mugs in her hands, she led the way back into the living room and they both sat down on the large, comfortable leather couch. Sharon resisted the temptation to hug a pillow to herself to cover her discomfort of the situation. She did not want to appear as vulnerable as she felt.

For a long while, they sat in companionable silence, both staring into their cups as if they held all the answers, until Sharon couldn't stand the tension anymore.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Her voice was low and she looked at him from under her eyelashes. He seemed even more on edge than she felt, his thumb nervously flicking over the edge of the cup again and again, his entire body radiating tension.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have showed up here like that. This is… I really don't know… There was no place else I could think of going."

He paused for a moment, obviously struggling for a way to explain. Sharon remained silent, giving him time to come up with the right words, even though she was getting increasingly more curious about his reasons for showing up at her front door.

"I shouldn't be here. I don't want to impose on you and your family."

Before he could move to get up, Sharon shook her head and spoke, putting some effort into appearing unconcerned.

"Don't worry about it. The kids are out for the night." She didn't address her husband's whereabouts and hoped he wouldn't ask, but he didn't seem to pick up on her unspoken plea.

"Well yeah, but I guess Jack wouldn't appreciate finding me here."

He gave her a curious look at her snort before he looked at the steaming teacup once again. This time he seemed to read her unhappy expression and averted gaze correctly and accepted her assurance. Silence reigned between them for a long time, before he finally started to talk.

"Nicole, my little girl, she had an accident with her bike earlier. She was with friends and their parents couldn't reach my ex-wife so the hospital called me. By the time I got there, they had gotten a hold of Sarah and she was already there."

He drew a ragged breath, his eyes rising to meet hers. He looked so unbelievably lost in that moment and Sharon wanted to reach over and hug him, but they weren't friends, it wouldn't be appropriate. Lost as to how she could possibly comfort him, she felt her eyes fill with helpless tears. She had never been good at seeing other people hurt.

When he continued, his voice was barely above a whisper, heavy with suppressed emotions.

"She wouldn't let me see my little girl. She was scared and hurt and my ex-wife wouldn't let me go to her. I don't even know what happened, how bad it was. I stayed in the waiting room for two hours, but no one would tell me anything."

His voice broke on the last word and he clenched the mug between his hands. Sharon's gaze was drawn to the bruised knuckles of his right hand and, knowing his often-volatile temper, she could guess that there might be an inanimate object with a fist-sized dent in it in a waiting room somewhere in the city. She knew that he wouldn't volunteer an explanation and she didn't need one.

"I went to a meeting afterwards and then another, but it didn't help. I tried to reach my sponsor when I thought I couldn't control it anymore, but he isn't home and the guys… Well, you know what it's like. They're all over at the pub."

She saw him struggle with his next words and his voice shook with emotion when he finally found them.

"I went to some bar. Seedy little thing, where no one knew me. It was so bad, the need to drink. I could feel it burn down my throat, the warmth of it spreading in my stomach. I just wanted to forget. I sat there, staring at that bourbon and I wanted it so much. Just, every time I lifted the glass, I heard what you said to me back then, in the break room. You know, about giving it all up.

"I didn't know what else to do. I still had that business card you wrote the address of the church on and I… I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

Sharon could understand Andy's ex wife. If something like that were to happen to one of her own kids right now, she wasn't sure if she could stand having her husband around, but it was so unbelievably unfair to both the children and their father. She saw the evidence of that sitting on her sofa, distraught beyond words and quite literally, almost driven to drink over it.

As she studied the man in front of her, so much like her husband and yet, so different, she thought about that scared little girl, who probably wondered why her Daddy wasn't there for her and it was all too easy to picture her own daughter in that situation. If one of her kids had an accident right now, they would be in the same situation, only that their father would not be anxiously pacing in the waiting room hoping for a chance to see them, of that she was certain.

She felt tears run down her cheeks, tears she had refused to cry over her own hurt feelings, but was helpless to hold back now. Her hand rose to cover her mouth and she turned her face away from him to hide her loss of control. Next to her, she felt Andy shift and saw him place the teacup on the table.

"I'm sorry, I should go. I shouldn't have come here to bother you with my problems. I don't know what …"

Sharon turned towards him, placing a hand on his arm to keep him from getting up.

"Don't go." She couldn't say any more than that as she met his gaze and thought she'd drown in its depth. His hand rose to her cheek, a gentle thumb brushing away her tears as they stared at each other for a long time.

When their lips finally touched, she didn't know who had initiated the contact, but the first tentative kiss quickly turned into a heated battle of teeth and tongues, their frustration, anger, sorrow and desperation providing endless fuel.

It was hard and fast, the ever-present, softly glowing embers of barely suppressed sexual tension born out of a shared moment of poor judgment and professional animosity transforming into an out-of-control wildfire of passion.

They both burned with it as mouths devoured each other before they went on to explore, nipping and tasting, leaving their marks on tender skin.

Following his insistent pull, Sharon slid one of her legs over his to straddle him. She felt his hands against her, one buried in her hair, the other on her back, clutching the thick material of her robe. Her own fingers were busy tugging his white t-shirt out of his pants to gain access to the hot, smooth skin of his back.

When she pushed his leather jacket off his shoulders and then proceeded to rid him of his shirt, he raised his arms to assist her. As she tossed his shirt aside, his hands came to rest against her cheeks, drawing her into another heated kiss, their tongues tangling, sliding against each other.

The need for oxygen made them pull away and his lips travelled along her jaw, his tongue tracing the shell of her left ear, drawing her earlobe into his mouth. Sharon moaned at the fire that spread through her veins, her head tilting to the side to give him better access.

Andy thoroughly explored her neck, as his hands fumbled with her belt. When his urgent touch landed on the bare skin of her stomach and wandered up her sides, she though she would melt. Another deep moan was drawn from her throat and she threw her head back, making him trail hot, wet kisses down her throat and across her chest. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, sending shivers down her spine and heat pooling in her belly.

She shamelessly ground her throbbing centre against the coarse material of his jeans, her hands sliding down his chest. With one of his arms around her back for support, she leaned back to open his belt and pants. Her eyes shut in bliss as his mouth closed around one of her nipples, the other one being rolled between two of his fingers. She let him distract her for a short moment, but the urge to see him naked, to feel him inside her, was too strong.

Sharon slid off his lap and knelt on the floor in front of him, tugging at his pants. He lifted his hips to help her slide them off and groaned when she let her hands travel up his legs again, lingering on his thighs. Her lips and tongue teased the soft skin at the inside of his right knee, trailing wet kisses all the way up to her ultimate goal.

Her lips closing around his hard length drew a groan from him and he buried his hands in her hair, his hips bucking involuntarily. Sharon placed one hand on his stomach in an attempt to hold him down, while the other gently cradled his balls. She felt them tighten slightly just before Andy grabbed the collar of her robe with both hands and drew her up onto his lap. He caressed her neck and cheeks with gentle fingers, before he let them trail along her shoulders, pushing the robe to the floor.

His touch was rough on her back, stroking up and down her spine and it sent a shiver through her. As she ground against him, he twitched underneath her. The sensation of his solid flesh sliding through her sodden folds intensified her arousal even more and she wasn't willing to wait another second.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder, Sharon rose slightly, her other hand guiding him inside her. As she sank down, Sharon let her eyes close, relishing the sensation of stretching walls, being filled completely. Neither of them was willing to waste any time on adjusting to the new situation; they were burning with the need for completion. Sharon immediately set a fast pace, grinding against him, her hips rotating to get the best possible angle. Andy met her thrust for frantic thrust, his hands having a firm, almost bruising hold on her hips.

Keeping her eyes closed, Sharon focused on the slide of skin on wet skin, the feeling of his strong muscles rippling under her hands and the fire burning in her veins. She felt him tense, fighting hard for control. The muscles in her thighs started to burn with exhaustion, as she increased her pace once again, trying to find the friction she needed, rubbing her clit against his pubic hair. She felt the lick of the flames touching her, but it wasn't quite enough to start the final inferno.

As Andy's grip got even firmer, his features screaming of his slipping control, she grunted in frustration, that final spark eluding her. The day had been too hard on her, leaving her wound too tightly to let go now.

Suddenly, she was pushed off him and flipped to the side, landing on the sofa on her back with hands insistently pushing her legs apart and an eager mouth descending onto her aching centre. His tongue lapped at her swollen lips, dipping into her depth before sucking and nipping at her clit. He let two fingers slide through her curl, then shoved them into her, eliciting a hoarse cry from her. It was unbelievably good. He hit all the right spots, found the perfect pressure, but it was too much, too intimate. Sharon did not want emotions; she needed the physical release without any complications, as she was sure he did.

Andy got the message when she gave his hair a hard pull, wrapping her legs around his middle as soon as he had climbed over her.

Suddenly, the room spun around her right before her knees hit something hard and the solid mass underneath her grunted in discomfort. Somehow they had tumbled off the couch. Andy only took a second to get his breath back, before he rolled them over and plunged into her once more, pounding her hard and fast, just the way she needed it, building them both up towards the edge.

Andy studied her face closely, searching for a sign of imminent release. He was approaching the limits of his control again fast, but he would not go over without her. A frown marred her forehead and she flinched with every thrust he made. For a brief moment he thought he hit too deep, but as his knees started to chafe from the carpet, he realised what the problem was. Stopping his motions, he drew a sad little moan from her as he slid out of her. Climbing to his feet, he held out his hand to help her up.

Despite her obvious frustration, she took it and then followed his lead as he guided her over to one of the heavy armchairs, bending her over the backrest.

Before she could utter any protests, he entered her from behind, both arms sliding around her. Sharon threw her head back, letting it rest against his shoulder as he cupped a breast with one hand, rolling a puckered nipple between thumb and forefinger. The other drew tight circles around her clit, his face buried in her thick hair, which was coming out of her clip.

A loud groan escaped her throat as he hit the perfect place with the perfect force, his fingers delivering the additional stimulation that was necessary. Sharon usually wasn't a fan of this position, because it lacked intimacy and felt more like a male power trip than anything else. But, at that moment, it was exactly what she needed. Arching her back, she pushed her ass into him, meeting his powerful thrusts, feeling the inferno start anew. This time, Sharon knew she would be consumed. She was more than ready and for a few blissful moments, her worries and her heartache retreated to a far corner of her mind.

Andy knew the exact moment she let go of what was holding her back. The tension left her slight form and she melted into his body, giving herself over to him completely. He was humbled by her trust, but it was only a fleeting thought, as his focus shifted towards the ever-increasing heat between them. Just as he helped her to forget for a while, she distracted him from his own problems. Andy reveled in the softness of her skin against his, the sweet, flowery scent at the nape of her neck – her bath oils and something distinctly Sharon – her hot, slick walls holding him in their firm grip, and the incredibly sexy sounds she made – low hums, soft whimpers and the occasional grunt. He could feel his release approaching, even more powerful now than it had been earlier. This time though, she was ready to take that final leap with him.

He thrust into her welcoming depth harder and faster, his hand increasing the pressure on her clit as the other kneaded her breast roughly. He was probably hurting her, but she didn't complain. Sharon's soft whimpers turned into desperate cries and loud groans, sweat making the skin of her back slide against his chest, her sweet neck tasting salty as he sank his teeth into her flesh, soothing the pain with gentle licks before he bit down again.

Suddenly, he felt her stiffen in his arms, her head falling forward, only to hit his shoulder hard as she threw it back again, her eyes closed and her mouth opened. A long, deep moan left her throat on a breath, much louder than he would ever have thought her capable of. Her muscles clenched around his length, the added pressure all he needed to trigger his own orgasm. Pleasure shot up his spine and down his legs like liquid fire, burning along his nerves and through his veins. For a few seconds his entire existence was limited to this – her and him, their sweat-soaked bodies, wildly beating hearts and burning lungs, the fire blazing through them, slowly dying with every breath they took.

The bright spots finally stopped dancing in front of her eyes, but Sharon couldn't bring herself to open her eyes just yet. In the darkness behind her closed lids she could pretend for a moment longer, bask in the tingling of those tiny aftershocks that washed over her with every twitch of his body. She felt him soften inside her, but he still held her close, his solid form like a warm blanket. One hand still cupped her mound, his fingers gently gliding through her curls, soothing instead of stimulating now, but it still sent shudders through her.

Reality intruded on their quiet moment, bursting their dreamy little bubble, as he slipped out of her. She slowly became aware of the small aches and pains, evidence of their loss of control. As Sharon started to shift underneath him, Andy released his hold on her, his hands brushing along her sides in a gentle caress before he stepped back. Taking a few deep breaths, Sharon finally found the courage to turn around, her eyes briefly flicking up to meet his before she averted them again.

She distinctly remembered the last time they were in this situation. Back then, she hadn't known his name and they had both been drunk and mostly clothed in the restroom of some unknown bar. This was even more awkward, because she knew him and was sure that they would run into each other again. He was in her home and she was supposed to help him through a tough night, but all she could think about now was how to get out of this situation. What was the proper protocol for situations like this?

Sharon gave Andy a tight smile before she excused herself for a moment to clean up in the guest bathroom, her robe already firmly wrapped around her once again. When she came back, Andy sat on her couch tying his shoes, obviously ready to leave. She felt incredibly bad about the intense feeling of relief that washed over her at the thought. It would definitely put an end to the uncomfortable tension between them, but he had come to her for help, for a safe place to stay until the overwhelming need to drink had passed. She couldn't just let him go.

"You can stay the night, if you want. There's a guest room." Her voice was soft and sounded uncertain to her own ears. As he finished with his shoes, he looked up at her, uncertainty and awkwardness in his gaze and an unimaginable sadness that clouded his eyes and made her heart feel even heavier.

He rose to his feet and took a few steps towards her, gazing at the floor between them.

"Thank you, Sharon, but I think I should go."

His hand reached out to touch her cheek, but he stopped in mid-way, letting it drop to his side once more as he looked into her eyes briefly.

"If you're sure. Please don't leave if you…"

He didn't let her finish, his voice barely audible as he replied to her unvoiced concern.

"I'll be okay. I think I can go home now."

Andy stepped past her towards the door and she followed him, studying his broad shoulders and the tousled mass of black hair. He turned towards her in the open door and this time he allowed himself to place a gentle hand against her arm.

"Thank you for listening. I didn't mean to…" He looked away for a moment, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Sharon."

With that, he turned around and walked away. Sharon followed him with her eyes as he made his way down her driveway towards his car, only going back inside when his car pulled away from the curb.

She shut and locked the door and leaned her back against it, eyes closed and her mind in turmoil. She was grateful for the solitude, but at the same time, she hadn't wanted him to leave. The silence of her house, which she had desired so much a moment ago, felt oppressive now.

Since the very beginning, her relationship with the handsome hothead from Robbery-Homicide had been full of contradicting emotions and it seemed they were destined to be caught in an endless circle of professional disagreements and these moments of reckless passion. It was exhilarating and infuriating at the same time – just like Andy Flynn himself.

Pushing away from the door, Sharon decided to take a quick shower and go to bed before the post-coital languor wore off and her mind returned to its previous, overactive state and kept her awake all night.