A/N- I'm sorry this beginning bit is so short. I wanted it there, but then I didn't know where to take it. Let me know what you think. Thank you (: Oh, and some of you may think Sharon seems a bit OOC, but this is many years before she met the Closer, and I think she has some growing to do.
Inside this place is warm,
Outside it starts to pour.
-The Neighborhood, Sweater Weather
Sharon woke early the next morning, despite her late night and the time change. Maggie was still curled up in the blankets next to her. Sharon snorted softly and eased out of bed, trying not to wake her sister. She padded down the hall to the office where Alex, Sam, and Ricky were camped out on the floor. They were still asleep. Sharon wouldn't put her mother past having laced their late-night hot chocolate with something. God knew it had happened once or twice when she was young.
She stepped over her son and leaned over the edge of the crib. Cat stared up at her, wide-eyed. She smiled and scooped the baby up before creeping away and making her way down the stairs.
The kitchen was warm and smelled of yeast. Jesse didn't say anything, but he set the water kettle on the back burner. Sharon sat in one of the chairs and watched as her father ladled batter onto a hot pan and turned back to the counter to begin unwrapping a package of sausage.
"Sleep well?"
"I slept fine. Cat slept through the whole night. She's just started doing that sometimes."
"She's going to look like you when she's older, I bet."
"Yeah?"
"You and Mags were the same way. The older you got, the more you looked like your mom." He flipped the pancakes and set the sausage in another pan, before washing his hands and coming to sit next to his daughter. "Here."
Sharon handed Cat over to him and got up to begin making tea. She was rummaging through the cabinets for a mug when Jesse spoke again.
"Jack's not coming this year?"
She set the mug down a little harder than she meant to. "No." She could almost hear Jesse's mind working out a strategy to get more information out of her.
"Work keeping him away?"
"He had to go to Vegas." She had finally convinced Jack to tell her where he was. He had been convinced she was going to come after him. She told him that no, she was far too busy where she was to go chasing after him, and that a trip to Vegas would be out of her budget. He would be safe from her.
"Who needs a lawyer on Christmas?"
She shrugged.
He stood, cradling his youngest grandchild in one arm. "Well. . ." he let the word hang as he began flipping the pancakes onto a plate. "Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
She turned to look at him suspiciously, but he kept his attention on the stove. "What do you mean, Dad?"
He searched for an explanation that wasn't too far from the truth. "Two kids make a big investment, and you're pretty busy, I know. If you ever need anything or want a break, your mom and I would be more than happy to help or watch Ricky and Cat for a while."
She seemed surprised. "You'd come all the way out to LA?"
He smiled, glad to be back on firm ground. "We haven't been out there since the wedding, and that was- hell- almost ten years back now. Your mom likes the warm weather and we don't see much of that up here. I'm thinking we ought to sell the house, move south, and pick up a time-share somewhere up here so we can keep skiing in the winter."
Sharon laughed. "Have a good time convincing Mom to give up her rose garden."
He grinned. It was good to see her smile.
Maybe one of these days you can let the light in/
Show me how big your brave is.
-Sara Bareilles, Brave
Sharon tucked her shirt into her slacks, turned away from mirror, and craned her neck over her shoulder to make sure she had smoothed the back of the shirt out properly. It was part of her wardrobe coup d'état, following her transfer.
Her job was much more formal now. The detectives and administrators of the upper echelons of the LAPD wore suits and black shoes so shiny they could likely see their own reflections. She didn't want to show up on her first day in uniform.
Andrea had helped her. The woman had spent her Saturday with Sharon, dragging Ricky and Cat across the mall, to find slacks and blouses and a couple pairs of heels. Andrea found a pair of average height heels, and then promptly insisted on a tall set of black stilettos. Sharon had stared at them in shock, disbelieving that anyone would walk around on four inch toothpicks. She didn't want to admit it, but now that she was wearing them, she found herself warming to the idea of being four inches taller than usual.
She gathered her gun and badge into her purse, then lifted her shoes by their heels and walked out to the kitchen.
Winter break was over. Ricky would be starting his second semester of kindergarden, and Cat was signed up for daycare a few floors down from Sharon's new office.
"Ricky? Are you ready to go?" She set her bag down on the table and wiggled her feet into her shoes.
"Almost!"
She checked that the lid on her travel mug was on tight before sliding into her bag.
"Ricky!" She picked up Cat's carrier and pulled the baby's green cap further down her forehead.
A moment later, Ricky rocketed down the hall, backpack bouncing off his shoulders. "Ready."
"Head out to the car. I'll be right behind you." She watched him run out the front door with the energy that only a five-year-old could possess. She turned to the mirror and looked her reflection over. She looked tired still, but make-up helped lessen the shadows. Andrea had forced her to get a hair cut, too. Her hair was shorter, just past her shoulders, complete with a fringe of bangs. It was different, and she liked it.
Everything was different. Her appearance, her clothes, her job, her marriage. She swung her purse over her shoulder and walked out the door.
She made her way up to FID from the daycare. Her hands felt empty without Ricky's small fingers in her left and Cat's carrier in her right. She slipped them into the pockets of her new jacket and pushed the door open with her hip. The offices were well lit, the blinds open, detectives chatting amongst themselves. There was a woman and three men, none of whom she know.
She stood by the door, fiddling with the seams of her pockets. After a moment, the other woman looked up.
"Can I help you, ma'am?"
"Is Commander Bancroft here? I'm supposed to speak with him."
The woman smile with the well-practiced grace of a receptionist. "He's in his office. Go ahead in; he's not busy."
Sharon smiled and walked to the office. The door was cracked open, but she knocked on the fram nonetheless. "Sir?"
"Raydor. Come in."
She did so, and sat on the edge of one of the chairs in front of his desk. He had packed his belongings into a pair of cardboard boxes, leaving only the bare-bones office furnishings. There were some books on the shelf, but they looked like policy manuals- heavy and bound in dark leather.
"Packing up, sir?" It was obvious, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Yep. I'm getting out of here. Thinking of a trip to somewhere far away."
She listened. Sometimes silence was more rewarding than questioning.
"Maine, perhaps. Or Scotland. I've always wanted to get back there." He smiled tiredly. "Don't get me wrong, I loved this job, but I'm ready for a break."
She smiled. "I understand." Jack was a job all of his own, and she was taking her own break from him.
He glanced at her. "I'm sure you do." It wasn't sarcastic. It was brutally honest. He glanced down, and pulled out one of his books. It was a battered paperback, and he handed it to her.
"Ovid?" She was confused.
"The Metamorphoses. It got me through a lot of pissed off cops and politicos. Any time I started getting pissed at them, I'd tell them I had a waiting call that I absolutely had to take and read a bit until I felt like I could talk to them without saying something I regret. That book is so old it's got no political agenda, it's thoughtful, and it's long enough that you'll never get through it. It's better to say you have a call waiting than let your temper get the best of you."
She looked at the book in her hands. It had a dark cover, with a painting of a goat-horned girl on it. "Thank you."
"You won't be thanking me a few months from now."
She smiled. "That would be letting my temper get the better of me."
He laughed. "I told them it was worth waiting for you." Them was the higher-ups, apparently. "Let's go meet your squad."
She hadn't thought of them that way before. Her squad.
He touched her elbow and she jumped. "Come on, Cap."
She stood and smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes. "No time like the present." She was nervous, like she hadn't been since her first day, since Ricky was born, since she'd had to call Andrea late at night, not knowing where Jack was.
Bancroft seemed to sense her unease. "It'll be okay. I know it seems hard, but it gets better. You'll make some of the best friends of your life in this office. It has it's down days, but this was a good job. You can go home every night knowing you've made a difference."
She nodded, not trusting herself to talk, and followed Bancroft out into the main office.
"Lady and germs," he announced loudly. The room quieted, and they looked up. "I'm sorry for not introducing my successor to you sooner, but getting her appointed to office was a lengthy process."
It wasn't that complicated, Sharon thought. The wait had been caused solely by her uncertainty and hesitation.
"May I present Sharon Raydor, your new captain."
She looked down, their gazes hot on her skin. Her shoes were scuffed already, she noted, absentmindedly.
"Captain?"
It must have been the second time he called her. She wasn't used to the title.
"Sir?" It was a schoolgirl's answer, and she flushed slightly, looking up through her auburn fringe.
"Why don't you tell them a little about yourself? You can all get to know each other."
She shifted her weight and stood a little straighter. "I know that this was a highly unorthodox transition, and if you want to discuss it with me, feel free. I'm trying to learn this job as quickly as I can, but I'm not going to do it perfectly right off the bat. Please tell me if there's a better method or if-" she cringed internally. "-if I'm doing anything incorrectly." She paused again, trying to figure out what to tell them, what to reveal about herself. "I've been on the force for six years, working primarily on patrol." The rank she had once been so proud of was no longer a badge of honor. It usually took close to a decade to achieve captaincy, but she had skipped second sergeant and both lieutenant ranks.
"You got a kid, don't you, Cap?" It was the older lieutenant, the one who was greying at the temples. She wasn't sure of his name. "Tell us about you."
She could feel her face getting warm again. Apparently the issue of her rank had already been addressed. "I- I have two children, Richard and Catherine, five years and four months, respectively."
She looked them over, and saw little emotion. There was surprise on a couple faces, perhaps, but her new squad had their emotions firmly under control. Another thing to learn.
"I'm not sure what you'd like to know. Do you have any questions? Tell me about yourselves. I'm afraid I don't know you all very well."
The grey-haired man stood from where he'd been leaning against a desk. "Cecil Davies, ma'am. I've been here for-" he sighed. "Roundabout as long as you've been alive, I'd guess. Joined the force back in '55. I've got a wife, two beautiful daughters, both married. Reba swings by here sometimes, I'll let you know next time she's here." Sharon assumed Reba was Davies' wife.
The second lieutenant was younger and blond, close to Sharon's own age, she guessed. "Jamie Ray. It's just 'Ray,' though. I've been here since I graduated high school, so, uh, fourteen years? God, that's an eternity." He glanced to Davies and amended his statement. "Half of an eternity. Wife and a little girl, couple of years older than your son. I bike in my spare time."
"Goddamn maniac," Davies muttered. "Rides thirty, forty miles on his days off. That's what cars are for. Not human beings on wheels."
Sharon grinned. It was a far cry from Meri Arthur's quick humor, but FID didn't appear to be as grim as she had been told.
"Mick Hawkins, ma'am." The detective was dark-haired, and seemed slightly more formal than the other two. He looked to be the youngest by a good few years. "I'm afraid there's not much to say about me. I moved out here from Montana, wanted a change from small towns. All I've got out here is a damn nice pair of collies."
"Sometimes that's for the better," Sharon replied. She smiled at them before turning to the other woman.
"Ruby Shipp. I'm just your receptionist. I don't do much but tidy this place up when the boys leave their papers all over and keep the riff-raff out." She didn't seem inclined to say more, and Sharon didn't push. She didn't need to know everyone back to front on her first day.
"That is a job in and of itself, sometimes," Bancroft said. "Cops come through here demanding to know the status of our investigations, and Ruby does fine work pushing them back out."
Ruby scowled. "Some of them are absolute devils."
Davies laughed. Clearly the comment was some kind of inside joke. "If Flynn comes flying in like he did last time, I'll give him more than a warning. Don't worry."
Sharon felt for the desk at her back and sat on its top. Maybe FID wasn't going to be as bad as she thought. They seemed nice and certainly more open-minded towards women superiors than many other officers she'd worked with. Either that, or they did an incredible job hiding their true feelings. She shrugged to herself. It didn't matter. She had a job, she had her kids, and she had a good shot at giving them a good start to their lives, so that maybe one day, they could be happy living out their dreams.
A/N- I think I might have said this earlier, but here it is again for clarification. It's now 1990, 24 years before the current season (3). I'm placing Sharon somewhere in her late fifties up to sixty in the show, so she'd be mid thirties here. Ray is about her age, and canon mentions him in the Closer, as well as Davies, who I'm putting as a little over a decade or so her senior. That would place him as being about Provenza's age.