Trigger Warning: While I don't know if this chapter necessarily needs one, I want to make sure everyone is protected from the possibility. This chapter gets into moderate detail of alcoholism. If you are part of alanon or the child/family member of an alcoholic, realize this could bring things up. Please use caution, I don't want any reader upset.
'Set me free, leave me be, I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity. Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm suppose to be. But you're on to me and all over me. I live here on my knees, as I try and make you see that you're everything I need here on the ground. You're neither friend nor foe, though I can't seem to let you go. The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down.' 'Gravity', Sara Bareillis
"Now Captain, from what I understand you're a bit of a workaholic...so I'm going to need you to try and take it slow for the rest of the week," instructed the young doctor as he handed Sharon some initial paperwork.
Well, perfect. This week was drastically turning from bearable to a fucking mess. 'Taking it easy' (aka bed rest) sounded about as exciting as watching grass grow. The brunette surmised she could perhaps convince her eldest daughter to drop by. Although between pregnancy and her full-time job, Annie didn't have much time to spare these days. If she couldn't handle a simple weekly phone call, it was hard for the Captain to imagine her rushing to her injured mother's side. And there was no way she'd call Tori. Between her quest for an exhibition location and pressing social life in NYC, it wouldn't be fair to have the younger girl fly cross-country for a possible concussion watch. Now the question was, who to ask over? The obvious answer was Brenda, but it wasn't like the blonde could just opt out of any possible evening cases this week. Maybe family would have to do.
Oh - and then there was the fact that it was April 2nd. Which meant Saturday, a measly 4 days away, the Raydor women would once again find themselves in an all too familiar dance. Awkwardly calling to check in on each other, skirting around what no one was willing to say. Sharon gave herself permission each year to fall apart on the 6th, revisit those memories that she'd normally keep tucked away in the dark recesses of her mind. So it really wasn't fair to ask either of her daughters to tend to her, they'd be too busy handling their own feelings. Not to mention, she wasn't interested in visitors in general during that time. She didn't need to be on display during one of the lowest moments of her year.
"Dr. Schultz, how often will I need someone to actually stay with me?" inquired the brunette.
"Hmm, I would definitely ask a relative, or friend perhaps, to stay over through the weekend. During the day, make sure you're at least checking in with someone. Your head was pretty banged up, so we just want to make sure you don't develop a concussion. You should be out of the woods in the next 72 hours, although it's always better to be safe then sorry." The doctor gave her a smile and headed for the door. Turning back, he added, "and remember, light-headed, dizzy, bad headache, come back here as soon as possible. Don't hesitate to call...oh and your boss, that blonde woman? She stressed how important it was that you were back in tip-top shape."
Sharon rolled her eyes at the thought. Of course Brenda had the doctor eating out of the palm of her adorable hand. She couldn't imagine what other information her southern belle had coerced out of the staff, but it appeared she most likely now had a babysitter if she'd been privy to that information. And the blonde wouldn't take no for an answer, that's for sure.
The nurse looked up from taking the older woman's last vitals, "Actually, she, what was her name? Chief Johnson? She asked me to remind you to call her once you were discharged. Did you want me to let her know or..."
"I'll call - and she's not my boss, she's just a..." Sharon was still floundering for the word when the nurse cut it.
"Oh, I figured as much. She seemed concerned...far more concerned then an employer. Not to mention, We don't see many 'bosses' spooning their team members." The younger woman gave Sharon a wink and a knowing smile before exiting the room.
Sharon grabbed her phone off the bedside table and scanned through her address book until she located the blonde's number. Pressing send, Brenda picked up within the second ring.
"Hey Shar, how you feelin'? When are the lettin' you go? Your doctor said somethin' about you gettin' out this afternoon when..." the Chief had been mindlessly looking over paperwork when the older woman called. Normally she wouldn't wait around, willing her phone to ring. But considering the doctor had told her there was a good chance Sharon would be released that afternoon, she'd set up camp at her desk and hoped her team didn't catch a case.
"Brenda Leigh, who all did you talk to this morning? And how did you even get them to talk to you, you're not family."
"It's called a badge, baby, and a little southern charm," deadpanned the blonde. "And anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were really okay." Brenda knew Sharon well, she'd say she was fine, that no one needed to worry. The Chief had just wanted to get the opinion of someone who wouldn't sugar coat it or try to minimize. Being in the force for the better part of 20 years, she'd seen her fair share of head injuries. Most of the time, the bumps and bruises faded and the officer was back in action within a few days. But there was always that friend of a friend, the horror story. She wasn't about to let Sharon become one of those stories told around the water cooler.
Sharon was taken aback, just a bit, by the level of genuine concern in the blonde's voice. Obviously she cared, they were dating now, but it'd been some time since anyone had taken such an active role in the older woman's life. Even John hadn't been this concerned when she'd been injured on the job. Looking back, the only time she actively remembered him taking an interest in much of anything was when he'd hear on the news that an officer had been shot. He'd usually call her work extension. Not to check in, or make sure she was okay, but to make sure she was still breathing and that she would still be picking up the girls from school. John never wanted to leave the bottle behind, not if he didn't absolutely have to.
"Actually the doctor is finishing up the paperwork now, I should be out within the next 30 minutes or so," Sharon responded.
"Alright, well I'm basically done here. If I leave now, I'll be there in less than an hour," replied the blonde as she signed her name at the bottom of Jenkins' report. He'd be going away for a few years, at least, and she couldn't help but smile.
"It's okay, you don't need to do that, I can just call a cab and..."
"Sharon Raydor, I'm not lettin' you take a cab home after you've been in the hospital all night. I'm more than happy to pick you up and get you settled in at home."
"Well, actually, there's one more thing. I, uh, well I need someone..." Asking for help was something the Captain hardly ever did and now she was struggling to find the words.
"I packed a bag this mornin', don't you worry. I was plannin' on tryin' to convince you to let me stay anyway. So imagine my relief when your doctor let me know you'd need someone around for the rest of the week. I'm gonna come here durin' the day, but I'll be back to your house in the evenin'," chirped the blonde as she grabbed for the papers on her desk, depositing them in her oversized purse.
"What if you catch a case?" As excited as Sharon was about how willing the Chief was to drop everything to help, she knew how much the job meant to Brenda.
"The boys have been complainin' for months that I don't give them a chance to hone their closin' techniques...so they'll get their chance this week."
"I'm warning you now, I'm not the easiest person to deal with when I'm sick..."
"Figured as much. Nothin' is ever easy with you," smirked the younger woman.
Brenda insisted on helping the brunette into the house, even though she was more than able to walk. After depositing Sharon in her room and assembling a variety of things to keep her occupied, the younger woman leaned down and lightly brushed their lips together.
"You wait right here, baby, and I'll go make us somethin' to eat. And don't worry, by 'make', I mean I will order somethin' lovely from that Mexican restaurant down the street."
"Sounds great. Thanks again, for agreeing to stay. I'm sorry if it completely ruins things for you at work," muttered the older woman, smiling sadly.
"You couldn't ruin anything, Shar. I'm just happy to be helpin' you."
20 minutes later, Sharon found herself clicking through all the digital cable channels for the third time. Nothing to watch and nothing to do, the older woman was close to pulling her hair out. The brunette fancied herself a rather nonviolent human, for the most part, but she'd give almost anything for a couple of pot shots at one former Officer now. Not being downtown, she'd miss a host of briefings, cases, and standard FID procedures. While she was lying around, Jenkins might as well stack the paperwork on her desk himself. Come next week, she'd been chained to her desk, trying to catch up. Yes, Jenkins could go fuck himself.
Sighing, she laid back and snuggled into the comforter. This week couldn't be so bad, right? Now the Captain had ample time to catch up on reading, maybe clear out her DVR. And Brenda would be here in the evenings to entertain her. The brunette soon found her mind wandering...these last few weeks had been suprising and simultaneously terrifying. She wouldn't kid herself, Sharon knew she was a lot to handle. Between her sometimes rigid personality and inability to express her feelings, being with her wasn't a walk in the park. Which was why it was so hard to understand why that perfect, incredible, amazing blonde had picked her. After all those years in a disaster of a marriage, hoping beyond hope that something would change, she'd resigned herself to the fact that happiness just wasn't in the cards. Her girls gave her an incredible amount of joy, but it seemed her love was never good enough to keep a relationship together. The brunette surmised that John had only been the beginning, although he'd set her up for a lifetime of self-doubt.
Sharon met John Raydor during her first year as a Boston Police Department officer. Working under the Assistant District Attorney, he had big plans for the future. The brunette had never gotten too serious about dating during college, setting her sights solely on the academy and climbing the ranks. John was a pleasant surprise in her otherwise single life. Caring, charming, a hopeless romantic, they always had a great time together. It was like she'd known him her entire life, they almost never stopped laughing, talking, kissing. Sharon felt as giddy as school girl when he'd call and quickly she couldn't imagine life without him. John appeared to feel the same and within six months they were engaged, desperate to merge their lives completely. Sharon's strict Catholic upbringing forbid them to cohabitate, so they wed twelve weeks later. Finally, she felt like this was her chance for a happy ending and they settled down looking forward to their future. The brunette found herself pregnant almost immediately with her eldest daughter and then things really began to unravel.
She'd always noticed that John enjoyed going out and having a good time, but she began finding vodka bottles hidden throughout the house. The brunette would go looking for a hammer and find empties stashed in the tool chest or the back of a guest bedroom closet. One night she'd decided to surprise him with one of his favorite dishes, chicken marsala with white wine sauce, and found that the bottle of cooking wine had been emptied and replaced with water. This discovery led her to their shared liquor cabinet, where she'd found most of the bottles drained and contents replaced. There was also the debt, which he'd conveniently forgotten to mention until after they'd wed. Sharon now found herself getting calls from bill collectors, acquiring his astronomical debt the minute she'd said, "I do."
During those last few months before Anne's birth, Sharon seriously considered leaving. They fought constantly about money, his drinking, and what their future could look like. He'd promised to consider rehab, to look into taking care of the debt and she believed him. Between the two of them, this all could work out. But the baby came and the excuses continued. Something would come up at work, he didn't have time to get help until after this one last case. The cycle continued for months until Annie's second birthday.
John had been drinking all day, although it didn't seem like much more than his usual. The morning started just like every one before with a screwdriver (or 3), even though he told the brunette it was just orange juice. After at few cocktails, he'd switch to whatever beer was lying around. Most of the time, Molson or Bud Ice as they had the highest alcohol content per container. He appeared to be about three beers deep when the first guest arrived, but managed to almost seamlessly glide through grilling and helping to finish the meal. The brunette found he was a relatively functional drunk, most days. It wasn't until desert that she'd noticed he was missing. He'd been present for 'Happy Birthday', but vanished soon after the cake was cut. Searching the house, she found him upstairs lying on their bed, sobbing. He was completely inebriated, slurring what little he could mutter.
"I need help, I can't do this anymore," he confessed, hardly able to get out words between the tears.
"Shhh, it's okay. We'll figure this out, I promise," she whispered, attempting to comfort her now broken husband.
The following day they'd called around together and John eagerly agreed to begin outpatient treatment on Monday. Sharon woke that first day feeling that perhaps things would get better. As much as she'd thought about leaving him, her child needed a father. And if she was honest, she needed a husband, a partner, someone to share her life with. She held onto those happy memories from the beginning, hoping life would one day return to how it'd been during their first few months together. Not to mention, her parents would never forgive her if she divorced. Most importantly, she couldn't turn her back on her husband, she had meant it when she said, "for better or worse."
Outpatient therapy seemed to be working and soon Sharon recognized the man she had married. John was spending more time with the family and she finally felt that they were regaining intimacy in their relationship. While dating, they'd shared an active sex life which continued well into their marriage, until John's drinking had increased. Over the past year or two, he'd usually pass out in the evenings after a couple drinks too many. The few times he was interested, it had been almost impossible and he hadn't been able to get it up. While marriage was about more than sex, Sharon missed the physical closeness, those shared moments of pleasure that couldn't be replaced with words. So the brunette wasn't too surprised when she found herself pregnant again, they were acting like a couple of horny teenagers ever since he'd sobered up.
John was discharged from his outpatient program after the allotted ninety days with a prescription for Antabuse and instructions to attend his first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting the following morning. He lasted a little over three meetings in AA and never did get the prescription filled, claiming he wanted to remain sober without help. Soon Sharon discovered empties around the house and she was once again pregnant and alone. Her second daughter, Victoria, was born seven months later.
Thankfully, Sharon had her two girls and she immersed herself in being the best mother she could, attempting to make up for the fact that their father had minimal interest in girl's lives. She also used what measly savings she had to pay of most of John's debt, no longer wanting that hanging over their heads while her children were growing up. By the time Tori was 3, the brunette and John slept in opposite rooms, blaming his snoring or her erratic hours when the girls asked. They led mostly separate lives as John sunk deeper into his alcoholism and Sharon tried to distract herself with her children and their activities.
The only time the couple spoke was during family dinner, an event that John expected every evening. It was something he had always done as a child and wanted to continue the tradition with his own family. Sharon wasn't sure why he was so interested in them all sitting down together, as he was always drunk by and it almost inevitably ended in fighting of some sort. During these meals, the brunette did as much as she could to protect her girls from his verbal thrashing. But she could see how much his alcoholism, anger, and general unhappiness was affecting them. He used dinnertime to point out how disappointing his daughters and wife were, exploiting their weaknesses and flaws to make them as miserable as he obviously was. Most nights ended in relative calm, the girls and Sharon excusing themselves to hide from John and lick their wounds, while other nights erupted in full on name calling, glass throwing, and shouting matches. It was hard to say how any evening would play out at the Raydor dinner table.
By the time the girls were in high school, Sharon found herself very much alone. Annie and Tori spent as many nights as they could out with friends, opting to be anywhere but home. The brunette knew they were just trying to get away from their father and his unhappiness, but couldn't help feeling that they had abandoned her too. It was also during this time that Sharon was transferred to Internal Affairs. She threw herself into her investigations, avoiding her chaotic home life. Soon she wasn't getting to the house until close to midnight and leaving early the next morning, claiming she had caught a case. Once immersed in IA, she climbed up the ranks at lightning speed and found herself promoted to Captain of the Force Investigation Division. Being the first woman to head her on division within IA, she expected John to at least acknowledge her achievement. Instead he made a rather off-color joke inferring that Sharon had slept her way to the top, seeing as she wore so many low-cut tops and tight-fitting suits, in front of her girls no less. Sharon internally snapped. She had put up with his bullshit and unhappiness for 18 years, and she could no longer stand to be a part of this sham they were calling a marriage. This was the last straw, if he couldn't be happy for one second or at least fake an interest in her incredible achievement, she could no longer smile her way through the charade that had become her life. While she politely conversed with her family through the rest of dinner, she was mentally elsewhere, planning her escape.
Early the next morning she drove the 4 hours to her parent's house and fell apart. They'd expressed their concern and attempted to convince her to give him one more chance. Divorce wasn't an option in their mind. But the brunette had made her decision and no religion was going to force her into staying. Sharon told her girls the next day that she was leaving, but gave them the option to stay with their father if he allowed it. It would be unfair to force them from the home they grew up in and she didn't want to sway their decision. Ultimately they both chose to go with her, it was a no brainer in their eyes.
The easiest part had been admitting her unhappiness to John. Being a true narcissist, he told Sharon she would be back within the month. She would never be able to make it without him. That was 15 years ago and she was still doing just fine. It had been hard, especially during that first year, but she'd made it. The brunette couldn't say the same about her ex.