[ Part Four ]
A/N: Warning! There's an autopsy in here. I tried to avoid mentioning too many details, but be warned if you're easily offended.
Andy woke up to something tickling his nose and a weird yet strangely familiar sensation under his palms. He opened his eyes, confused and still sleepy, to find that his face was half-buried in a mass of auburn hair that looked almost red in the light of the early morning sun that was filtering through the sheer curtains. His first thought was one of panic. How had he ended up here? Had he been drinking last night? What day was it? Then the haze lifted from his mind and he remembered that he was with Sharon and that it was, in fact, Saturday, so he wouldn't have to worry about work. Suddenly conscious of his position, he discovered that he was now under the covers with her, his arms firmly wrapped around the still sleeping woman and his palms resting over her swollen abdomen. He found that while she was lying quite still, her unborn baby was already awake and moving. His first reaction was to pull his hand back quickly, but then he pressed down lightly instead where his touch was met with another flutter of movement. Sharon stirred, her back moving against his chest and gave a sleepy hum. Andy gave her a moment to adjust to their close proximity and was relieved when she turned around with a faint smile instead of the expression of dread he had half-expected to see.
"Good morning," she said, placing her hand on top of his as if to keep him from pulling it back. "You spent the night." It was one of her neutral statements that he couldn't place. Was she criticizing him or was she surprised – grateful even?
"I nodded off and didn't wake up until two minutes ago," he replied, trying not to sound too apologetic.
"Are you as good at making breakfast as you are at cooking dinner?" she asked mischievously but patted his hand before he could answer. "I'm just joking. You've done quite enough."
"Are you feeling better?" he asked, still a little drowsy and very comfortable with her snuggled up to him.
"Much," she said. "I have to admit I was feeling quite under the weather and my baby was awfully quiet yesterday, too."
"Well, I guess that's been remedied. She's moving like crazy." It was only now that both of them realized that they were basically holding hands over her belly in addition to practically melting into each other under the same covers. She sat up the very moment he decided to pull his hand back and run it through his hair instead. The awkward moment that ensued evaporated when she swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned back to him as soon as she was on her feet.
"I'm going to go check on Tommy. There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet but I'm afraid it's decorated with Disney princesses. Tommy refused to use it because he thinks it's too girly but I guess you're above that?"
"Hardly," Andy deadpanned. "I'm a manly man. When I said we could be friends I didn't mean to sign up for being your girlfriend."
Sharon paused where she was halfway out the door and tilted her head slightly while looking at him with a little smile. "Why not? If you're lucky you get to make out with me in the hayrick." With just a hint of a wink she vanished into the hall, leaving him with a dry mouth. Had she just flirted with him or was she just joking around? Sharon had never before given him any indication that she was interested in more than friendship but she always weighed what she was saying so carefully that he couldn't imagine her being unaware of the overtones of what she had just said. Either way, he decided that a cold shower was in order.
Twenty minutes later he found mother and son downstairs on the couch where she was sipping tea and he was nibbling on a small piece of toast, looking better but not completely cured yet. They both looked up when he entered and Sharon indicated the coffee table where a cup of coffee and a bowl of strawberries were waiting for him. He sat and took a sip of the black coffee while Sharon leaned into Tommy and kissed the top of his head.
"Andy liked the toothbrush with the Disney princesses," she told him, beaming at Andy from the corner of her eyes. "He didn't think they were just for girls."
Tommy looked up at Andy and wrinkled his nose. "But it's pink!" he protested, his piece of toast abandoned. His critical look wavered soon as he lost interest in the conversation and so he pulled his legs up and curled into his mother's side, closing his eyes. Seeing him still so sick, Andy wondered how much of Sharon's recovery was for real and to what extent she was just pretending to be better.
"Mommy," came Tommy's quiet voice while Sharon helped herself to a single strawberry.
"Yes, honey?"
"Can Daddy read me a story?"
There was a beat of silence and a horrifying second during which Andy wondered whether Sharon's son had just referred to him as "Daddy". Sharon dropped her strawberry but ignored it lying on the floor next to her foot. Frozen in place as he was, Andy made no attempt to bend down and pick it up for her. He could tell that Sharon was deliberately avoiding to look at him and was tempted to leave the room but then his curiosity won out and he remained seated. He was sure that Sharon would ask for him to leave if she insisted on a moment of privacy and he was ready to grant her that request if she made it. Instead she leaned down and stroked her son's cheek.
"Daddy's not here, baby-"
Tommy interrupted her, his face scrunched up, signaling an impending meltdown. "But when is he coming back?" His small voice broke at the last word, along with Flynn's heart both for Sharon's son and his own children who might or might not still be asking the same question. He wondered whether his ex-wife was like Sharon - who looked torn between lying to her child and telling the truth - or whether she was less scrupulous. How could you burden a four year old with the truth – whatever it might be in her case? But giving him false hope of an imminent reunion seemed just as wrong. Andy didn't envy Sharon.
"How about we call him later?" her voice was a little hoarse now, her posture rigid and uneasy.
"But I wanna call him now!" Tommy's eyes were swimming in tears, his hands clenched into two tiny angry fists. Andy watched him swallow and take a deep breath, which he knew from experience with children was the prelude to a full-blown bout of crying. He could see the different emotions playing out on Sharon's face; she looked torn for a moment but then leaned down and wrapped one of her hands around Tommy's fist.
"It's okay, honey. It's okay," she cooed. From the little glimpses Andy had had of her parenting, he was sure that she was not usually prone to letting herself be corrupted by crying. So her reaching for the cordless phone on the table next to her had not been prompted by the kid's momentary desperation, but by a deeper, more enduring feeling. He guessed guilt. Once again he thought he ought to get up and give her the privacy he was sure she craved to make the call, but as she still hadn't asked him to leave, he couldn't get himself to. She punched in a number that he was surprised she knew by heart and waited for someone to pick up. Tommy had stilled, his eyes still large and glistening with tears, but his body more relaxed and his small hand already reaching out to grab hold of the phone as soon as it was handed to him.
"This is Sharon Raydor," Sharon said, her voice even deeper than usual as she was very obviously trying to appear more composed than she actually was. "Is it possible to talk to my husband?" There was a moment of silence during which the voice at the other end of the line said something Andy didn't understand then Sharon added: "Yes, thank you. I'll wait." The ensuing silence was longer than Andy had expected and he imagined a flustered secretary running around an office and looking for Mr Raydor. He wondered what the man was doing for a living. Somehow he imagined him as a business executive in a posh suit and a red tie or something equally imposing.
"Hello, Jack." Her voice sounded completely different now, carrying a wide range of emotions that Andy couldn't identify. "Listen, Tommy's sick. No, no. Don't worry. It isn't too serious. He would just like to talk to you." Her tight expression softened slightly at something he said. "Yes, we're okay." It stung Andy to see her gently massaging her stomach while she was talking to her husband. "I've had an ultrasound done. It's a girl. Yes, she is. Perfectly fine." Her eyes met Andy's and she dropped her hand, schooling her features. "Here's Tommy. Bye, Jack."
She handed the phone over to Tommy who greeted his father as enthusiastically as Andy had expected. His face screwed up in concentration, he listened to Jack Raydor's words on the other end of the line while Sharon looked on with a vigilant look in her eyes. Andy tried to deduct whatever he could from the short conversation he'd just been witness to. Apparently she hadn't spoken to her husband in a while because she'd known her baby's gender for at least two weeks. Something as important as that would surely have come up in an earlier conversation. Maybe he lived out of state. Obviously he hadn't left on particularly angry terms because while she seemed guarded when talking to him, her voice was soft and held no trace of anger. He also didn't seem to be the disinterested parent Andy had taken him for as he was still talking to his son on the phone and had immediately inquired after his other child, too. He looked at Sharon whose attention was still completely focused on her son and found a nostalgic look in her eyes that conveyed every inch of the sadness that always seemed to eclipse her.
When Tommy finally ended the phone call, she pushed the end button without bringing the handset up to her ear again.
"Better?" she asked her son and he nodded. "Daddy misses me."
"Of course he does." Sharon smiled and ruffled her son's hair.
"He misses you too, Mommy."
Her smile didn't waver but Andy could see the skin tightening around her eyes and he was almost sure that she was biting down on the inside of her cheek. Without commenting on it, she pulled Tommy close again and turned to Andy: "Would you like more coffee?"
He hadn't expected her here of all places, but on the other hand it made a lot of sense to have FID involved in the investigation. Just this morning he had gotten the call that the little girl whose shooting his division had been investigating for a while had died at the hospital without regaining consciousness. Her having been in a coma for five weeks, the doctors had actually begun to feel optimistic that she would wake up soon but before that had happened, someone had made sure she wouldn't by injecting a deadly substance into her IV-drip. The rulebook called for FID to be involved as the hospital room had been guarded by a police officer at all times which meant that her death was due to either negligence or intent on the officer's behalf.
And now they were here to find out what exactly had been in the syringe that had been found on the floor next to the hospital bed and whether that was what had killed her. Andy had witnessed enough autopsies to have developed a thick skin against the smells and the sights that had almost made him throw up the first time he had experienced them. However, this was a child and that made it a completely different deal. His palms were sweaty and he felt sick with rage and grief for the tiny thing that lay on the stainless steel table. Even the pathologists, though always respectful towards the dead, didn't seem to be able to gain their usual distance. The white sheet thrown over the child's naked body was a clear indication as they usually didn't bother with covering the bodies between taking off their clothes and beginning the post mortem.
Andy was both relieved and mortified to find Sharon in the small anteroom when he entered. Somehow it seemed wrong to send the pregnant woman to investigate a child's death and, much worse, witness the autopsy. She already looked sick to her stomach, hugging herself while she went through the details of the case with the pathologist. The file that lay open on the table in front of Dr Miles suggested that she didn't know all the details by heart and, indeed, she told him that Ginger was sick with the flu and she had to cover his cases until he was back on his feet.
Andy had never liked the morgue but it seemed even more stuffy and hopeless today with the prospect of having to watch a small girl being cut open. Andy stood next to Sharon while the pathologist was typing and gently brushed the small of her back with his fingers. As glad as he was to have a friendly face by his side, he knew that they were about to be going through something that was likely to scar them permanently. In the harsh lights of the anteroom, she looked pale and her face was an impenetrable mask. Her arms were now crossed in front of her chest and he realized that she was trying for a position that would made her appear more composed. Andy was subconsciously mirroring her demeanor, listening to Miles filling out the form on the computer screen.
"How's Tommy?" Andy asked.
"He's fine," she replied in an equally low voice. "Thank you again for your help."
Their eyes met over her shoulder and he found himself wrapped up in a moment of unexpected intimacy. They had never worked together and he realized that he liked their comradeship a lot. In a dire situation like this one, they could hold on to each other. He could see in her eyes that she was suffering already and he, too, couldn't wait for this ordeal to be over. As they proceeded to the actual autopsy suite, he found his steps to be as tentative as hers and his heart broke at the closed eyes and pale face of the small corpse on the table. Dr Miles and his assistant started working silently except for the medical terms he spoke into the voice recorder in his hand but for all their tactfulness, there was no gentle way to go about opening up someone's head and chest.
Andy suddenly found Sharon's hand wrapped around his and squeezing it tightly when they began to cut without as much as a warning. Her hand was cold and her eyes were full of tears when she looked up at him. A silent look of understanding passed between them and he longed to pull her into his chest and hold her in his arms. Was Ginger really sick, he wondered, or was he just as desperate as everyone in his own division to not be forced to watch something as horrifying as this? As they began to remove the organs and made to open the skull, he found Sharon shaking and managed to sneak an arm around her waist before her legs could give way. Dr Miles looked up with a pitying expression but thankfully forewent one of his usual scathing comments.
"Take her outside, Flynn," the old man said. "She doesn't need to see this."
"It's okay, I can-" Sharon began, but her trembling voice betrayed her. Without listening to her feeble complaints, Andy walked her out into the anteroom with the sound of the buzz saw whining behind them. He was glad to be out, he had to admit, as his own stomach was churning and he couldn't trust himself not to be sick.
He had never seen Sharon actually come undone. Her lingering sadness was one thing, but this state was another. Being physically assaulted by Samson had rattled her, but the emotional strain the autopsy was putting on her was almost palpable. He guided her to a chair and crouched down in front of her. The sounds and smells weren't as strong in here but they were still lingering as the opening towards the autopsy suite wasn't sealed by a door.
"Oh god, Andy," she murmured, one tear rolling down her cheek, quickly followed by another. "That poor little girl. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be-"
"Don't worry about it," he interrupted her. "Everyone knows children are the worst. I've heard of a lieutenant who was known for being tough as nails and fainted during one of those autopsies. There is no reason to be embarrassed."
Her tears didn't stop and he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief that he handed to her. She wiped the tears off her face but didn't succeed in actually cleaning herself up since they were immediately replaced by new ones. Only now Andy realized how shaken he felt himself. The little body, the innocent face, the pathologist's subdued voice, dully dictating the medical terms describing the horror that lay in front of him. He felt faint, too, and he wished that there had been another chair. Without asking for her permission, he slid his arms around her and pulled her into him. The gesture caused her to sob violently now, her face buried in his shoulder. This was grizzly enough under normal circumstances, but he could tell that her crying wasn't only due to her sympathy for the girl and her horror but that she was releasing a pressure that had been bottled up inside her for far too long. Holding her benefited both of them and he inhaled the scent of her hair that was a much-needed change from the sickening smells wafting in from the autopsy suite.
When she finally pulled back, her eyes were puffy and her breath was labored and for a moment he worried that she was in pain. But then she reached up to cup his cheek and smiled through her tears.
"I'm so glad I have you, Andy."
His heart seemed to jump out of his chest and perform a somersault, making it virtually impossible to deny any longer what he was feeling. He fought himself not to blurt it out or, worse, pull her in to kiss her senseless. They were in a morgue, after all, and he was sure that she would instinctively run if he did either of these things. So he settled for a very small but relevant part of the truth.
"Same here, Sharon."
She didn't actually do anything but her mere presence in his life gave him something to hold on to when he was in danger of turning to the bottle. There were so many things he wanted to forget but when he was around her, they didn't seem as present and threatening anymore. The thought alone of kissing her here of all places showed him how comfortable she made him feel, even if they were surrounded by physical reminders of horror and dread. He held on to her elbow when she slowly rose to her feet and sought her face for a sign that she might not actually be okay to be standing.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly and she nodded slowly, pulling her jacket down; he watched as she wrapped one arm around her belly.
"How can I dream of bringing another child into this horrid world all by myself?" she asked him, her voice turning into half a sob towards the end of her question. He remained silent, not knowing what to say to her but it seemed that the single sentence was all she allowed herself to indulge in right now. "We should go back," she added somewhat apologetically. He knew that trying to hold her back was no use. She was intent on doing her job and she was right in acting like this. So he walked with her into the other room, his hand on her back.
"Sharon," he said, still barely out of earshot of the others. "You're not alone."
They solemnly stood shoulder to shoulder through the rest of the autopsy without another word and later he could feel the tension come off both himself and her when they were outside in the corridor again. She turned towards him, still pale but visibly more composed.
"Look, Andy, I'm really sorry for tearing up like that. It was unprofessional and I shouldn't have told you about my own mess. That was inappropriate and I apologize."
He shook his head in disbelief. Sharon Raydor was something to behold.
"There's no need to," he said. "but I'm all ears if you ever want to talk about your private mess."
The smile she gave him didn't reach her eyes.
Once again, Andy woke up in an unfamiliar setting. His head hurt and his throat was dry and when he tried to move, he found that his muscles were aching and his stomach was churning. It didn't take him long to recognize the symptoms and a familiar sort of dread settled over him almost instantly. A hangover. And a bad one. He blinked his eyes against the light that he recognized wasn't at all that bright as the day outside seemed to be cloudy and the sound of raindrops pattering against a window could be heard. As much discomfort as it brought him, he managed to get himself into a sitting position so he could finally recognize his surroundings. Sharon's living-room.
How had he gotten here? He tried to remember but couldn't for the life of him. Regrettably, he was quite experienced when it came to waking up without any recollection of the previous night's events so he tried to come up with the last thing he could remember. After the autopsy he had seen Sharon to her car and then had gone back to the office. He remembered sitting at his desk, assaulted by the images from the autopsy that had burned themselves into his memory. He also recalled the nagging feeling, the undeniable craving, the way his feet seemed to have walked towards the elevator and into that bar on their own accord just an hour later. The burning of the whiskey had felt like his personal salvation and, intoxication beginning to set in quickly, he had asked himself fleetingly how he had ever thought that going sober was the right choice. And from then on things became fuzzy. He remembered someone telling him that he'd had enough and he remembered Joel's face, his lips forming words that he couldn't understand. But then there was darkness and he couldn't discern how on earth he had ended up here.
There were footsteps down the hall and Sharon walked in, wearing a light gray cotton dress and thick woolen tights. In her hand she was carrying a steaming mug of coffee which she placed in front of him on the coffee table along with a container of advil. Her silence unsettled him and he shook his head, though regretting the motion immediately.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" she asked and her tone was completely neutral.
"No," he admitted, washing two pills down with the strong coffee. The fact that she was bringing him coffee and painkillers made him hope that he hadn't offended her the previous night. "Why am I here?"
She sat down across from him and smoothed down her skirt over her thighs. "You turned up on my doorstep in the middle of the night accompanied by a guy named Joel who was quite frustrated with you. Apparently you refused to go home and insisted on coming here instead."
Andy covered his face with his hand in embarrassment. What else had he insisted on?
"Did I... um, did I try to...?" he began, unable to actually form the sentence, unwilling to ask the dreadful question.
"Did you come on to me?" she asked, her voice even. "No. You staggered towards the couch and lay down. You can thank me for not feeling any worse. I forced almost a whole bottle of water and some advil down your throat before you fell asleep last night."
Andy didn't want to imagine how he would have felt if she hadn't and looked at her, wild self-hatred flaring up inside him. "I'm so sorry, Sharon." Maybe he had screwed up. Maybe she would just ask him to leave and never bother her again. Maybe this was the end of their friendship.
"Andy," she said softly. "I fully understand why you would try to escape after what we saw yesterday. Believe me, I didn't sleep a wink last night even before you arrived. So I get why you relapsed, I really do. But..." she shook her head. "You can't do that again. As police officers, we see horrible things every day but you can't let them ruin you."
He remained silent as he knew that she was right and he could do nothing but agree. If he did so, however, he worried that it would sound like a false affirmation just to get back into her good graces. Sharon pushed her hair back and leaned forward, looking at him over the rims of her glasses. She seemed tense but not angry with him and he got the impression that she was about to say something meaningful.
"I don't know if you remembered, but you told me that you were invited to your daughter's birthday party."
That one sentence cut through him like a piece of sharp glass that slit open his skin. His daughter's birthday. Today. The three hour drive to San Diego. He could tell that he wasn't fit to drive and he knew that his ex-wife would be looking out and therefore immediately spot the signs that he was drinking. She would never believe him if he told her that it was a momentary lapse and that he hadn't been lying when he'd told her that he was in recovery. He looked up at Sharon whose face showed sympathy and, curiously, pain.
"What time is it?" he croaked.
"Eleven o'clock in the morning," she replied evenly and a wave of relief washed over him. The party wasn't about to start until four. He still had enough time to- "But you are in no state to drive, Andy. You must still be well over the limit."
He shook his head, regretting his lapse so much. Why did it have to happen today of all days? He mentally scolded himself; he wanted to jump up and throw something. Instead he raised his eyes towards Sharon who had cleared her throat gently.
"Tommy is with a woman I know from church. She has lovely twins his age and he can stay all day. We'll have to do our best to clean you up and then I'll drive you to San Diego."
Her offer was the last thing he had expected and he looked up with complete surprise written all over his face. She reached out and squeezed his arm.
"Andy, we're friends, remember?" When he was still too stunned to reply, she smiled sadly. "The most important thing is to see your kids." The look on her face had changed and he knew immediately that the emotion there was more personal than it had been a moment before. He couldn't help thinking back to her phone call with her husband during which she had worn the exact same expression. Suddenly things seemed to click into place. Her having the AA's contact details within reach, her knowing their meetings times by heart and the fact that she seemed to know a little too well how to combat a hangover.
"Your husband is an alcoholic, too, isn't he?" he asked her suddenly, feeling both relieved and crushed when she nodded. There was a moment of heavy silence before she elaborated quietly.
"He's been for a long time now."
"Didn't he turn to AA for help?" Andy asked her carefully, wondering whether she'd snap and refuse to respond to his very personal questions but she seemed almost relieved to be able to talk about it.
"He did. Many times. But it kept getting worse." She was fumbling with the hem of her skirt now, too shy or too weary to look at Andy. "He's in rehab now. A clinic is all that helps at this point."
It hit Andy like a train and he felt his headache flaring up again even worse despite the medication. Maybe she wasn't separated at all. Maybe she was just waiting until her husband returned from rehab so they could continue their married life together. But why didn't she call him more often? Why didn't she visit? Andy didn't know about policy in rehab. Maybe they didn't want their clients to have too much contact with their friends and family? He looked at her stomach. Was that baby a desperate attempt to hold their family together and to keep their marriage from falling apart? But if it was, why did she think she was bringing her daughter into the world all by herself?
Pain began to rage inside his chest like a caged animal. How could he have ever believed that there was even the faintest glimmer of a chance that she might reciprocate his feelings for her? Maybe she was just feeling guilty for not being able to help her husband, to fail to keep him from drinking. Maybe she just wanted to be friends with him to be able to convince herself that her husband's alcoholism wasn't her fault.
She looked at him, her eyes greener when shining with the tears that she blinked back so ferociously that it made Andy wince slightly.
"What happens when he gets out?" Andy heard himself ask and he instantly felt mortified but he had to hear her say it. Sharon sat up a little straighter.
"There are a lot of things that happened due to his drinking," she said carefully, her voice strained. "I kicked him out but I didn't force him to go to rehab. That was his own decision." She swallowed. "I have an infinite number of reasons why I can't trust him anymore, but-" She trailed off.
Undecided, Andy concluded. He thought about the legal papers in the kitchen and about her shortness with him on the phone. There was a chance for him - however small - and that gave him enough energy to sit up and wrap his shaking hand around hers.
"Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for doing this for me. I promise I won't let you down again."
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand back. "You better take a shower and use your princess toothbrush, Andy."