Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Major Crimes – I am only borrowing them – and will not be financially benefitting from the story in anyway. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Rating: T

Author Notes: Hi . I'm soooooo sorry I took so long to update; *sigh* if only I didn't have to work for a living!

Anyway, because I've taken so long, you've probably forgotten the story line so here's a quick recap:

Previously on Major Crimes (*snort* sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Sharon receives a menacing card in the post – inside it reads 'you'll get yours bitch.'

Young talented soap actress Amber Moore's assistant is found murdered. The assistant was recruited through an internet reality show. The number one suspect is Amber's agent who is currently on his way to Vegas.

Andy (who is secretly in love with Sharon, obviously) thinks that the Captain is acting weird and speaks to Rusty about it. Rusty tells him about the letter Sharon has received.

Andy cleverly gets himself invited to Sharon's apartment for dinner.

When they get there they discover that Sharon's apartment has had a break in and someone has written 'you'll get yours bitch' all over her bedroom.

Sharon reveals to Andy that the phrase has links to her past….

Chapter 7

"Rain drops on roses and whiskers on kittens."

'Snip'

"Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens."

'Snip.'

"…dah dah dah dum dah dah tied up with string…"

Breaking in to Captain Raydor's apartment had left the intruder feeling elated; their plan had been perfectly executed.

Mother would be proud.

As the dulcet tones of Julie Andrews filled the kitchen, they sang along cheerily whilst making the finishing touches to their pièce de résistance.

"These are a few of my favourite things!"

'Snip, snip'

"It's perfect." A menacing smile crept slowly across their lips to reveal flawlessly straight teeth. "I bet she hasn't even noticed they're missing."

xXx

As Sharon and Andy re-entered her apartment, the last of the detectives had packed up and were loitering by the entrance; their curious eyes taking in their surroundings – shamelessly observing the ice queens layer.

Ignoring them, Sharon silently picked up the phone from where Rusty had left it on the kitchen counter, and retired to the sitting area.

As Andy ushered the detectives out of the apartment, she punched her husband's number into the phone and taking a deep breath, she pressed the receiver to the ear.

After several rings, Jackson answered with forced enthusiasm; a sure sign that he was doing something that she would not approve of, "Sharon! To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I…" Sharon faltered at hearing the tell-tale jingle of a slot machine; she turned her back on Andy and moved further into the sitting area. "Where are you?"

"With friends…"

"Are you at a casino?" She asked quietly, pinching the bridge of her nose and wondering why – in the face of her current plight – she persisted in honing in on her husband's failings.

"Give me some credit Sharon, would ya?" Sharon imagined that he was rolling his eyes; "Do you really think I'd answer a call from you if I were at a casino? I'm at a friend's fundraiser; theme's Monte Carlo – they have a casino set up in the entrance hall."

"A Monte Carlo themed party in Nevada?" Sharon asked incredulously.

"I'm not in Nevada, Sharon; I'm in New York this week – look, was there a point to your call?"

"Yes." She said firmly, nodding her head as if to dislodge her concern for him from her mind; they were separated, her children were grown, she was financially independent – Jackson Raydor's gambling addiction was no longer her problem. "Someone broke in to my apartment tonight…"

"God, Sharon! Are you okay? What did they steal? Do you need me to fly down there?"

'And do what?' She internally scoffed; having Jackson back in her life right now was the last thing she needed. "No, no, no. I just need you to tell me that you still have the key I gave you – the one with the photo on the key-ring? There was no sign of forced entry so…"

"Oh yeah, sure, it's on my keychain."

"You're sure?" Sharon glanced back at Andy, who was securing the locks on her front door.

"Well, my keys are in my jacket and it's checked but…"

She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly; "do you often leave your keys in a jacket that you've put in a coat-check?"

"Do you always have that stick up your ass?"

"Jack,"

"I'm sure it's still there, Sharon. Besides, couldn't the intruder have just, I don't know, picked your lock?"

"Why thank you, Detective," Sharon spoke in a hushed tone, her patience was wearing thin. "Strangely, we have in fact thought of that. The case has links to Nevada, you live there and have a key to my apartment; so if you would be so kind as to check your damned key chain…"

Sharon cautioned a look over her shoulder; Andy had moved into the kitchen and as filling the kettle with water – he didn't appear to have noticed their bickering.

"Alright," Jackson conceded with a huff; recognising that he'd pushed Sharon far enough. "I'm on my way – you want me to call you back?"

"No, I'll hang on."

Sharon held the phone to her chest as she waited for Jackson to retrieve his jacket and sighed. It had only been a few months since he'd last graced her with his presence and the wound from his exit was still raw. She had refused to read the note he had left her explaining his departure; Sharon was tired of his excuses. Having Rusty witness how he easily he still drifted in and out of her life…it resurfaced painful memories of having to explain to her own children why their daddy wasn't coming home.

Noise from the kitchen drew her attention once more towards Andy. She watched him closely as he busied himself by packing away the still untouched Chinese food; she noticed how comfortable he looked in her home.

Sharon had surprised herself by agreeing to allow him to stay; especially considering that there would also be a uniformed officer parked outside – Andy's presence really wasn't needed. If her lieutenant being at her home when she discovered the break in hadn't already started the rumour mill turning… him not leaving with the rest of the detectives certainly would.

As the former head of FID, Sharon should know better.

'You want him here.'

So what if people talked; they weren't doing anything wrong…

'Oh, but you want to.' Her subconscious mocked, just as Andy closed the refrigerator door and turned to face her.

Their eyes locked across the room and Sharon, as if concerned that Andy could read her thoughts, blushed furiously and turned her back on him - kicking herself when she realised that the reflection in the balcony door provided her with little shelter from his scrutiny.

'Smooth.' Sherubbed her forehead and dropped her gaze to her stocking clad feet, praying that the ground would swallow her up. 'That was real smooth, Sharon.'

"Sharon, hello! You still there?"

Thankfully, Jackson calling her name down the phone detracted from her embarrassment and she quickly put the receiver back to her ear. "Did you find it?"

"Yeah, I found the key but - you know - it's the strangest thing…"

"What's is? Jack, what's wrong?"

"The photograph of the kids that was in the plastic key-ring thingy…it's gone."

"It's gone?" Sharon turned back to look at Andy; her eyes wide.

"What is it?" Andy moved towards her until couch was the only thing that separated them. "Is something wrong?"

Sharon lifted her hand to calm Andy as she continued to question Jackson, "Jack, is it possible the key ring just snapped off?"

"No, that's what's weird. The actual key ring is still here – it's just the photograph that's missing."

"What?" Why would someone want a 15 year old photo of her kids? A sickening felling washed over Sharon; her mind flashing back to the night that she shot Ian Banston in her home…the night the psychopath tried to killed her family.

"The photograph - it's been removed from the key ring. Why would someone do that?"

Sharon sank onto the couch – her legs giving way beneath her; Andy rounded the furniture and hovered by the coffee table, her anxiety at this new development reflected in his expression. "Jack, when was the last time you remember seeing that photograph?"

"I don't know…last time I was in LA – when I stayed with you maybe."

"Okay." Sharon nodded, and deftly switched her manner to work mode. "Okay Jack, this is important; I want you to take that key ring into the local precinct and get them to bag it. Ask them send it by courier to the LA office marked for my attention."

"Alright." Jackson answered quickly, genuine concern now evident in his tone. "Sharon, what the hell is going on?"

"It's the Banston case, Jack." She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, "it's happening again."

xXx

"No honey, it's alright." Sharon sat hunched over her desk as she attempted to placate her daughters concerns. "I have one of my lieutenants staying with me and there is a car parked right outside. I'll be fine; you just get some sleep."

Andy watched Sharon from the kitchen; her soothing, well-practiced 'mother tone' was in complete contrast to her body language.

Her shoulders looked tight; her fingers traced her brow in quick succession as if she were attempting to rub the tension away. The missing photograph of her children was a sinister twist – one that suggested a far more personal link to Sharon than an angry cop with a grudge. Breaking into Sharon's apartment to rattle her was one thing - stealing a photograph from her estranged husband's keychain suggested insider knowledge and detailed planning.

Sharon had every right to be concerned.

"I love you too, stay safe sweetie and call me in the morning. Good night."

Sharon hung up the phone for the third time that hour and dropped it on the desk. She collapsed against the back of the chair, looking to the ceiling. Andy wondered towards her and placed a steaming cup of tea on a coaster.

"It's chamomile." She lifted her tired gaze to meet his, expressing her thanks with a weak smile.

Andy felt his heart ache as he looked into her eyes; they were completely unguarded – openly expressing all of her fear and worry.

When Rusty was missing, when Sykes took a beating from a suspect, when the Poster Boy murderer committed suicide right in front of her eyes…those were all times when the Captain had let her guard slip. But those moments were temporary; fleeting lapses of her resolve that Andy knew Sharon saw as her weakness.

Ordinarily, she would clam up and make her excuses; shielding herself from the prying eyes of the team by shutting herself in her office – Captain Raydor had a stiff-upper-lip reputation to maintain.

But now Sharon simply sat, her tired eyes observing his own reaction to her vulnerability…and Andy didn't know where to put himself.

"Are you alright?" He asked lamely, eventually coming to perch on the corner of the desk.

"Not really." Sharon answered honestly; wiping a tear from her cheek. "It's not fair."

Andy waited silently for her to elaborate, fighting the urge to reach over and pull her into his arms.

"On them." Sharon clarified, sitting forwards and reaching for her tea, bringing it closer to her on the desk. "Why did they have to involve my children?"

"To get to you, Sharon." Andy answered with conviction. "So far, it seems to me that the sole objective here has been to screw with you."

"But to go to such lengths…"

"So they send you an anonymous letter, break in here just to make a mess," Andy gesticulated casually with is right hand, his left clutched his own mug of tea. "Just because they stole a photograph of your kids when they were young – it doesn't mean they have any idea where your family are now."

"They knew where Jack was."

"Jack was in LA recently, they probably lifted the photograph then. They're just trying to scare you, Sharon."

"Well," she huffed and settled back in her chair, pulling her black cardigan tighter around her body. "They're doing a fine job."

Andy nodded sympathetically, "why don't you try and get some sleep?"

"No." Sharon shook her head and got to her feet, "I can't sleep now; not with everything that's happened." She brushed past him, collecting her tea from the desk en route.

"You'll be no good to anybody tomorrow unless you try." Andy pressed, twisting on the desk to watch her retreat to the kitchen.

Sharon stopped by the counter and turned on her heel to face him, her eyes narrowed. "How did they know that I'd make the connection to Nevada and call Jack?" She asked, completely ignoring Andy's recommendation to get some rest.

"You're a good cop."

Sharon shook her head "It's a hell of a leap to go to all the trouble of locating Jackson and taking his keys…we could have just of easily assumed that the locks had been picked."

"What are you thinking?"

Sharon frowned, her jaw set as she ran through the evidence in her mind; though eventually she sighed and shook her head softly. "I don't know. I just…it doesn't make sense."

"It may do in the morning,"

"Andy…" Sharon verbally resisted his advice, but her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.

"Look Sharon," Andy got to his feet and walked over to her. "Trust me, this'll all be much easier to digest in the morning, one you've had some sleep. There's nothing we can do now anyway; hopefully they lifted some prints tonight and we'll have something to work with tomorrow."

"But I…"

"Sharon," He touched her arm ever so slightly and she inhaled sharply at the contact. "You need your rest; I'll be out here armed and ready." Andy removed his hand and took a sip of his tea, "if the son of a bitch comes back, he'll have me to deal with."

"And you'll be facing yet another FID investigation." Sharon retorted with a nervous smile; it felt strange to be standing so close to him at night, alone in her apartment.

"Hey," he shrugged, "I haven't had an altercation with Sgt Elliott since you took over Major Crimes. I'm sure he's missing me."

"I suppose that's true." She smiled wider this time, and Andy graced her with a smile of his own.

"Now off to bed." He playfully scolded, removing the cooling cup of chamomile from her grasp. "I'll see you in the morning."

Silently, Sharon nodded and moved in the direction of the bedrooms as Andy took half-drunk cups of tea into the kitchen.

After a few beats, he heard her call out to him "Andy?"

"Yeah," he poked his head around the refrigerator to find Sharon hovering in the hall, wringing her hands together – a nervous habit.

"Thank you," her voice, small yet sincere was accompanied by a soft smile. "For everthing."

"Any time." Andy responded casually. "Now get some rest."

Sharon nodded softly as she turned and retreated to Rusty's room for what sadly both of them knew, would be a restless night's sleep.

xXx

The shrill ringing of a cell phone startled Andy and he swung his legs off of the couch, banging his toes on the edge of Sharon's coffee table.

"Son of a…" he cursed as he reached out and swiped his phone from the table; silencing the offensive noise. "Yeah." He answered gruffly, his spare hand squeezing at his throbbing foot.

"Well good morning to you too, sunshine." The sarcastic tones of Lieutenant Provenza echoed down the phone line.

"What do you want Provenza? It's" he squinted to look at his watch in the dark – it was 4:30am, "barely morning."

"Well, sadly murderers don't think about our beauty sleep."

"There's been another murder?"

"Well, almost," his friend huffed. "Somebody attempted to murder Amber Moore last night at her house. I'm on my way there now."

"The actress?" Andy played catch up; with everything that had happened to Sharon in the past few hours, he had all but forgotten about their current case.

"Yeah, the actress; it appears that she may have been our intended victim all along. I'll swing by and pick you up in 5."

Andy jumped to his feet, "No wait! I'm not at home."

"Oh really?" Andy could picture his partner suggestively waggling his eyebrows.

"I'm at Shar…Captain Raydor's apartment."

"What?" Provenza raised his voice enough to cause Andy to pull the phone from his ear. "Are you out of your God damn mind? She's our boss Flynn…"

"Look, it's not like that…"

"Oh sure."

"It's not!" He hissed conscious that Sharon was still sleeping in a nearby room. "Look, there was a break in at her apartment last night. Some sick bastard is screwing with her and she was a little shook up, so I stayed here – butON HER COUCH."

"Is she okay?" Provenza's immediate reaction was concern, however ultimately his curiosity pushed that to one side. "Wait, she called you?"

"She's fine and no…" Andy pinched the bridge of his nose, anticipating Provenza's response. "I was already here."

"What?"

"Look, it's complicated okay? I'll meet you at the scene and fill you in on the details later."

"Complicated?" Provenza's tone was dripping with disapproval. "Damn right it's complicated."

Simultaneously, they hung up their phones and Andy threw his on the couch.

"Grumpy old bastard." Andy groused as he set about locating his trousers…but deep down he knew that Provenza was right.

Sharon was Andy's superior officer; if any gossip arising from last night got back to Assistant Chief Taylor, it could potentially impact their careers. Their squad were the elite and Sharon's high profile role meant that rumours alone could result in some form of action.

They could be reassigned or even forced into retirement; Andy knew that he needed to keep a professional distance…he just didn't know if he could.

TBC