[ Part Ten]
A/N: I am SO sorry for the recent lack of updates. Real life was acting up. But here we go! As always, I'd love to read your thoughts on this. :)
Sharon listened to the dial tone, her heart heavy and her thoughts scattered. Maybe she was just being superstitious, but something told her that this meant something. That this would somehow change her relationship with her children forever, that the independence from her that they had gained would only be further cemented by what she was about to say. She swallowed, biting back sudden hot tears that were threatening to blur her sight and bring tremors to the hand holding the phone to her ear. Still nothing. Every second she had to endure the sound of the dial tone echoing inside her mind made waiting harder and drove home the fact that this was where she was left stranded for tonight: Someone else's desk in someone else's squad room, the delicious scents of Willie Rae Johnson's elaborate Southern Christmas dishes wafting in from the break room. She hadn't eaten in a while and her stomach chose that precise moment to remind her of that with a loud rumble.
Finally, she heard Tom greeting her at the other end of the line. He had a deep, pleasant voice that reminded her of his father's even though it lacked Jack's artificial jolliness, making it sound a lot more sincere.
"Honey," she greeted him fondly, unable to keep the impeding tears out of her voice. "Have you heard? The airport has been closed due to snow. No flights in or out until tomorrow." She trailed off, unable to actually say the words, leaving her son to draw the inevitable conclusion himself.
"So you won't make it tonight," Tom said softly. She bit her lip, waiting for him to admonish her for putting her job first. Her children weren't used to her working crazy hours and every time something came up, she was worried that they would hold it against her. "Wait. I'll put you on speaker phone so Lizzie can hear you, too." There was a small commotion of sound at the other end of the line, then her daughter's voice rang in her ear.
"Mom, I am so sorry that you can't be here." Having expected anger or accusations, Sharon felt the tight knot of pain dissolve in her chest. "What are you going to be doing for Christmas eve, then?"
Sharon cleared her throat, trying to keep her tone light and unbothered. "I don't know. Possibly order take-out and have an early night."
"That sucks," Tom grumbled. "Have you finally got around to straightening out that new condo of yours?"
Sharon thought of the many boxes awaiting her at home and almost gave a deep, pained sigh. Somehow she had conveniently forgotten about the fact that she would not only have to spend Christmas alone, but also in a new apartment that still smelled of fresh paint and was currently also a maze of boxes that she was yet to learn to navigate. Suddenly she felt in a rush, wanting to make sure to get to her favorite wine dealer before they closed down for the holidays.
"It's going to be okay," she tried to soothe her concerned kids. None of them had brought up the fact that, due to her parents' lack of skill in the cooking department, she had offered to cook the Christmas dinner or that her parents, though definitely softened with age, were a little snobbish about the time-share they'd acquired only recently and found slightly lacking when it came to the luxuries they were used to from their NYC town house. "I am really sorry," she said, hoping that her voice would not give out. "I didn't think this would take so long and everyone else is away from the holidays so I was on call. Things have been crazy here and-"
"You don't need to apologize, Mom!" Lizzie interrupted her. "We know that you would do anything in your power to be here with us. Remember that you do not control the weather."
"Yeah, because if you did you wouldn't have had to move to California in the first place," Tom added with a smile in his voice. "Just tell us when your flight comes in tomorrow and we'll pick you up."
"Thank you," she breathed, furtively wiping a tear from her eye when she spotted Provenza walking around the corner. The last thing she needed was for one of Major Crimes to see her cry over her ruined Christmas. He'd probably serve her a mean little comment that would make her feel even worse. "I love you guys. Please tell Mom and Dad I'm sorry, okay?" There was a small pause after they had assured her that things would be okay with their grandparents, then Sharon finally asked.
"Did your father call you? I invited him to come to Park City with us but he never texted back."
Lizzie gave a snort. "Yeah, right, Mom!"
"He didn't call," Tom elaborated. "He sent a goofy card from Las Vegas, though. A row of showgirls dressed up as Santa. Extremely classy. It only said 'Merry Christmas', so I guess he isn't coming."
Not for the first time, Sharon felt guilt welling up inside her for marrying Jack without noticing just how unreliable and self-centred her was. She said her goodbyes and hung up, finding herself faced with Flynn as she looked up from her phone again. Although they had seen quite a lot of each other during the past few months - or maybe because of it - their relationship was as distant and cold as it had ever been. He had accused her of being an emotionless ice queen when they'd been working on a case that had involved two officers killed and since then things had just gone more and more downhill. He was being downright rude and whenever she caught him looking at her from the corner of her eye, she was shocked at the morosity his eyes could convey. He did not seem to understand anymore what had once come easily to him: That she was just doing her job. That she did feel for the officers' families, that she wanted to clear their names, not smear them. She usually just ignored the Major Crimes squad's open hostility and their leader's juvenile behavior when it came to her, but faced with a lonely Christmas away from her children for the first time, it all came crushing down upon her. She hadn't seen Lizzie in weeks with her in college far away and the new condo, though comfortable and remodelled to exactly match her taste, still felt alien and empty to her. Weirdly, the first - and yet only - room she had finished so far was the guest room while her bedroom and living-room still looked like war zones.
"Still here?" Flynn asked gruffly, his eyes flitting down to her lap.
"About to leave," she replied, too weary to be combative or snippy.
"New boyfriend?" Flynn pointed at the gnome Sharon had unconsciously cradled to her chest at some point during the phone call. She looked down at the hideous object that she'd been drawing comfort from.
"Not my type," she mumbled back, earning - to her surprise - a dry chuckle. Though suddenly uneasy, she refused to let go of the little thing and when she next looked up, the grim expression had vanished from Flynn's face, having given way to the smallest of smiles. Their eyes met for a moment and his face fell then he turned away, murmuring an excuse for leaving under his breath.
"I did the marshmallows on that!" Sharon announced proudly, earning a somewhat desperate "they're kinda burned" that didn't annoy her as much as it could have. She was still far from being accepted by Major Crimes as one of their own and she was almost sure that she never would be, but she was okay sitting between Flynn and Provenza. Although her being invited by Willie Rae was more of a fluke, being due to Chief Johnson's inexplicably claiming that Sharon was her "friend", she didn't feel lonely and she didn't feel unwelcome. And most of all, she didn't feel pitied, because she wasn't the only one who had sought refuge in the Murder Room to escape a lonely Christmas Eve. She wasn't sure how she had ended up next to Flynn, but the rather civil way he handed her the dishes and held her plate out for Dr Morales to fill with turkey warmed her up from the inside. Maybe not all was lost. After all, he had even pulled her chair out for her like a true gentleman.
She pulled her phone out when it vibrated inside her pocket and found a message from Lizzie to which she had attached a picture of her and Tom holding glasses of wine and toasting the camera. She growled slightly, aware of the fact that her parents would never dream of enforcing the legal drinking age on their grandkids. She hadn't noticed that Flynn was looking at her and looked up at him when she heard him chuckle.
"Is that little Tommy?" he asked, a smile in his voice and her heart began to beat a little faster, this being the first time that he had as much as acknowledged that he knew her better than anyone else suspected. From the corner of her eye, she saw Provenza pouring wine for Willie Rae on his other side, so she placed the phone down on the table between hers and Flynn's plates.
"He goes by Tom nowadays," she said softly, feeling pride welling up inside her at the sight of her children smiling at her from the screen.
"And that's your little girl?" Andy asked. "She's beautiful."
"Thank you." Sharon suddenly felt flustered and switched off the screen, sliding the phone back into her pocket. She quickly began to eat, taking nervous sips of the excellent Merlot Chief Johnson's father had brought to the table. Before she knew it, Provenza had turned towards her, good-natured with the alcohol, his cheeks flushed.
"Another one, Captain?" he offered generously but she raised her hand to decline.
"No thank you, Lieutenant. I'll need to drive home later."
Provenza shrugged but then, to her complete surprise, Flynn chimed in. "Go ahead, have another. I'll drop you off at home later." She turned and looked at him, her heart suddenly fluttering in her chest. Had he really just offered to give her a ride?
"Are you serious?" she managed in a shaky breath.
"Sure. It's Christmas, after all."
She looked into his eyes and marvelled at the lack of hostility there before he smoothly turned away and started a conversation with someone else. Although hardly anyone talked to her, Sharon didn't feel out of place. Being here among them was a lot better than being alone. And the prospect of being alone with Andy for the first time in years made her giddy and anxious to leave as well as mortified. She looked around at the familiar faces, at Chief Johnson with her husband, and she felt just a small pang of jealousy at their trusty and loving relationship. All she felt for Jack, even at Christmas, was contempt. How could he have let her children down again? They deserved to have at least one of their parents with them at Christmas and all he had given them was a lousy postcard. And then there was Andy's shoulder just inches from hers, his hand next to her hers on the table, the scent of his aftershave lingering. She was feeling light-headed, suddenly unable to block his presence out of her mind. Maybe he had not been the only one who had initiated their antagonistic new relationship. Maybe she had been a little too forceful with him, a little too snippy. Maybe she had tried to avoid the feelings that were plaguing her now: Regret for making the wrong decision, a yearning for him and unspeakable grief for the loss she had brought on herself. Back then it had felt like the rational, the right thing to do. Now it just made her feel empty and alone.
She jumped when she felt his hand on her arm.
"I'm driving to San Diego to see my kids in the morning, so I guess I should head home now. Are you up for it?"
"Sure. Sure." She scrambled to her feet and said her goodbyes, her hands squeezed by both of Chief Johnson's parents who still believed her to be their daughter's friend. To keep up appearances, she was sure, the Chief awkwardly patted her arm before she left. Her throat was dry when she found herself in Andy's car ten minutes later, her handbag in her lap. The streets were empty and they were going at a steady pace, the lights of the night flitting past the windows. She turned to look at his profile, his features relaxed but his eyes awake and focused on the road. Maybe it was all the Merlot that Provenza had poured her, but she suddenly felt too hot, so she turned to the side and frowned at the air conditioning, trying to figure out which button did what.
"Too hot?" Flynn asked with a cheeky grin and leaned in to push the right button. A look of discomfort crossed his face and he laid a hand against his side where she remembered he had been stabbed not too long ago.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly.
"Yeah," he replied. "I'm alright."
There was more silence as he drove and she stared out into the night, now inconveniently shivering with the dropped temperature, but too proud to ask him to turn it up again. Suddenly something dawned on her and she turned, narrowing her eyes.
"Andy," she said. "Why did you call me first when you were stabbed?"
He showed no sign of surprise at her question and didn't even turn his head towards her. "I shot the dirtbag. FID needed to be involved. I just did what the rules say."
When did he ever? And in a strenuous situation like that? She remembered how worried she'd been while he'd been sitting there, propped up by a paramedic and how good and reassuring the warmth of his skin had felt under her fingertips. She had done her best to be as cooperative as possible in the investigation, wanting Chief Johnson to catch whomever had hurt Andy like that. She wasn't so sure how well she would have been able to uphold her professional conduct if she had been the one to interrogate the suspect. But then Andy had been so angry with her for interfering, still, and she had discarded her idea to call him up at home and check on him. It had been when she'd finally given up any hope that maybe they could once again be friends. Andy obviously disliked her and there was nothing she could do about it. And yet here they were, at Christmas Eve, sitting in his car by his own choice.
"I'm glad you called me," she said quietly. "I was so worried about you."
She wasn't sure why she suddenly had the strength to say it without being too worried about the outcome, but it felt good to finally let go.
"Is that the Merlot talking?" Andy asked, but his voice didn't convey the necessary sarcasm; instead he sounded a little unsure of himself.
"Hardly," Sharon responded somewhat defensively. They continued to drive in silence until they pulled up in front of her apartment complex. Just now she realized that he had never asked for directions to her new home and had safely delivered her to the right place nonetheless. For a moment they sat in uneasy silence as if they were both waiting for the other one to say something meaningful, then Sharon cleared her throat.
"Thank you for the ride. I hope you'll have a good time with Anna and Toby tomorrow."
With no excuse to look straight ahead, Andy finally looked at her.
"Thanks. You have a safe flight in the morning."
"I will. Thank you, Andy."
For a moment she looked at him, yearning to lean in and press her lips to his to see whether he would respond. But then she felt terrified of being pushed away, of finding out that his unconcealed hatred of her was not an act. How could she know that he was even single? Or still interested in a woman he'd briefly known years ago? Those thoughts made her feel foolish and ashamed of her desire. She was probably just afraid of going home to an empty condo at Christmas Eve.
"Anyway, see you," she said, feeling jittery and awkward.
"You, too." There was something in his gaze that she didn't recognize and suddenly she felt the urge to flee as tears were beginning to constrict her throat. She practically lurged out of the car, fumbling in her pocket for her keys, and hurried towards the door, feeling hollow and empty inside.
Sharon was sitting on her son's bed, hands folded in her lap, feeling foolish as she watched him sleep, trying to calm herself down by pacing her breaths to his. Seeing the little girl's dead body at the morgue today had rattled her more than the initial shock had allowed her to realize and now she found herself unable to sleep and restlessly checking on her small son every few minutes. Nobody would steal him away tonight, she tried to convince herself. He was safe in his bed with the astronaut sheets and his favorite teddybear in his arms. Nobody would come through the rain, sneakily disable the alarm and kill her child in its sleep. And yet she felt alone and defenceless despite the loaded gun that was locked up in her nightstand for easy access. All the noises of the night startled her and even the steady patter of raindrops that usually lulled her to sleep easily seemed threatening tonight. Whenever a floorboard creaked inside the old house or the wind blew through the trees in the garden, she slid out of bed and practically ran into her son's room only to find him peaceful and undisturbed.
She wanted nothing more than to just curl up beside him and hold him as she had done numerous times just after Jack had moved out, but his new room being so much smaller than the old one, she'd been forced to buy a smaller bed and there was no way she would fit inside it with her ever-growing stomach. On the other hand, she didn't want to disturb his sleep for her selfish reasons by dragging him into her bed. Burying her face in her hands, Sharon tried to fight off the images that began to assault her as soon as she relaxed a little, invading her mind like sneaky intruders that had come to torture her. She rubbed her hand gently over Tommy's bare arm when the image of the girl's cold gray hand flew at her and tried to concentrate on the warmth of his skin. Then she placed her other hand against the restless kicks of her daughter, feeling guilty. Her little girl was definitely aware of the fact that she was upset and therefore unable to sleep herself. She slowly rose again, taking one last look at Tommy, when the doorbell rang.
Sharon froze, every inch of her body on alert, hands trembling. Who would ring her doorbell in the middle of the night? An intruder would certainly not alert her to his presence, she rationalized. Jack? He was not due to come back for several months. What would she do if he had decided that rehab was not for him? She had neither the physical nor the emotional strength to reason with him tonight. Still, having him in the house would at least make her feel safe. Still in just her pajama bottoms and an old, oversized college t-shirt, she walked barefoot towards the door, peeking through the peep hole to find Andy along with a man she did not recognize. She removed the safety chain and opened the door to them, slightly embarrassed by her tousled hair and her state of undress. The man gave her a weary smile and extended his hand for her to shake.
"Hi, my name is Joel. I am so sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night. You must be Sharon."
She nodded, suddenly suspecting what must be wrong. Turning towards Andy, she found his gaze unfocused and his breath stinking of whiskey. Someone delivering a drunk man into her care in the middle of the night had not at all been an usual occurrence back when she had still been living with Jack and it gave her a thoroughly unwelcome sense of deja vu.
"Hey Sharon," Andy slurred and held on to the wall for support.
"Look, I wouldn't bother you if I knew what else to do. I am Andy's sponsor and I just picked him up at a bar. Tried to drive him home but he insisted we come here. Simply refused to get out of the car in front of his own home." Joel shook his head with regret and a fair bit of annoyance. "He is not angry, more sappy, actually, so he doesn't pose a threat to anyone."
Sharon had half-expected herself to be angry with Andy if he ever saw him drunk again, but being well-aware why he had felt the need to escape, she felt sad rather than furious.
"Of course, Joel. You did the right thing." She gave him a tentative smile. "Can you just get him on to the couch? I'll go and get blankets and painkillers for him."
She rushed upstairs, quickly pulling everything she needed out of the cupboards and then decended the stairs again. She paused in the doorway when she saw Joel talking intently to Andy who was sitting on the couch with his hands folded in his lap, his head hung like a naughty child's. Neither of them had noticed her reappearance and she decided it best not to alert them to her presence just yet.
"Look, Andy, I am not telling you again: You need to lie down and catch some sleep now, okay?"
"But I wanna sleep upstairs with Sharon," Andy mumbled with a sad expression. "She's so warm."
"You're staying here or I swear I'll take you with me and drop you off at the police station so they can lock you up until you're sober again."
Sharon cleared her throat and walked into the room, her arms full of blankets. Joel rushed to take them off her and she smiled. He was the kind of guy that instantly inspired trust for some reason that she could not quite put her finger on. Looking a little scruffy and in dire need of a haircut, he reminded her of a shaggy, but trustworthy old dog. Andy rose from the couch and stumbled towards Sharon so Joel could prepare the bed. His eyes were still dull and bloodshot, but they had assumed an unguarded, very tender expression.
"Sharon," he said in a low voice that made her hope for a moment that he was coming to his senses after all. He then reached out his hand and placed it against the side of her belly, rubbing it slightly. "Baby alright?"
Joel rolled his eyes in the background and straightened up, grabbing Andy's arm to lead him back to the couch.
"Take off your shoes, Andy," he commanded him before he turned back to Sharon. "I am really really sorry to put this on you."
"It's okay," Sharon said truthfully. "I am his friend. I am happy to take care of him."
"I'll leave you my number just in case he does anything stupid. I don't live far from here so I can be there in under twenty minutes, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you," Sharon replied. "I think I can take it from here."
After seeing him to the door, she took a detour through the kitchen before she returned to the living-room where Andy had obediently taken his shoes off and was now reclining against the cushions, looking as pensive as he was capable of in his state of drunkenness. He looked up when she entered and shuffled to the side in order to make room for her on the couch. She followed his invitation and set the two bottles of water she was carrying down in front of him on the coffee table.
"I won't let you sleep before you've downed these, so you better get it over with. And take these." She motioned for him to extend his hand towards her and dropped two advils into his open palm. Andy did as he had been told and took the pills along with several gulps of water. He set the bottle down when it was almost empty and reached around her, pulling her into him with surprising care. She closed her eyes when her head came to rest against his shoulder, suddenly feeling her own exhaustion. Andy buried his face in her hair and despite his drunken state, she enjoyed it. Somehow the situation even made her feel free and a little careless since she was almost sure that he would remember none of it in the morning. It was a little bit like being in a dream or a fantasy, knowing that her actions wouldn't have consequences. Andy was just a friend and yet she had to keep reminding herself of the fact that she had a husband when she was around him. She liked the way he looked at her and the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Not to mention that she found him very attractive and his boyish charms interesting. And most importantly: He made her laugh. She felt Andy's free hand come up and for one horrifying second she worried that he would try to seduce her, but then he just placed his shaking hand over hers that was resting on her belly.
"Won't let anything happen," he murmured. "Keep you safe."
For a moment she didn't know what he was talking about, but then she realized that he was trying to tell her that he would try to protect her and her children from harm. He, too, was affected by today's events and not even the alcohol had been able to take away those thoughts of the murdered child. She suddenly felt so connected to him in his raw, afflicted condition that she almost didn't mind his intoxication anymore. In a way it even made him more open, hinting at the fact that he must usually be very guarded around her. But what was it about him that he felt he had to hide from her? Sharon snuggled into his side and wrapped her arms around him.
"Just don't do this again, okay, Andy? I don't want you drunk," she whispered.
"Sorry," he mumbled back, pulling her into his chest. "You smell great," he informed her, still slurring slightly. "and you feel even b- better."
Sharon gave a low chuckle, aware of his scent through his crumpled clothes, not obscured by the smell of alcohol. She knew that if she allowed him to hug her any longer, she might do something that she would regret, so she began to pull back. Andy let her go and leaned back on the sofa as he was told, letting her pull the blankets over him. Before she could leave, he tugged at her sleeve.
"Sharon?"
"Yes, Andy?"
For the first time since he had crossed her threshold tonight, Andy's gaze was almost clear. "I love you. So much."
She had just changed out of her work clothes and into her pajamas and padded into the kitchen to pour another glass of wine, her hands still shaking and her heart racing from all those feelings that were welling up again when she was alone with Andy. Maybe she had just buried them all those years and had never granted herself a true chance to get over him. Or maybe he was still just her type after all of these years. She couldn't get the image of his lips out of her mind, couldn't forget his scent that was so prominent in the confined space of his car. She carried her glass over to the sofa, carefully rounding several boxes to avoid stumbling and spilling some of her drink.
Still, the glass easily slipped through her fingers at the sound of the doorbell ringing through the apartment.