Let's Set the World on Fire

by songbird1970

A stand alone piece, Let's Set the World on Fire follows Sharon and Andy as they take their first tentative steps from friends to something more. Not a cabin tale.

Let's Set the World On Fire

She had expected the nerves. A little fear, certainly. Panic, even. With a tendency to over analyze nearly everything, it would have made perfect sense to worry herself into a corner over a long-awaited, much-anticipated, bonafide, official date with her best friend. She was neither unaware of, nor indifferent to his growing attraction to her. That attraction, the feelings permeating the air around them, were not only quite welcome, but entirely mutual. Having given the situation the thoughtful consideration it deserved, she decided that any unease within her lie less with their work situation- their close friendship had yet to cause a rift in the balance of the team- or any fear of intimacy beyond a certain age- Andy may have acted out a bit with a younger woman here and there post-divorce but, having seen the way he salivated each time she wore a skirt, she was confident enough she could quite effectively hold his attention.

Not even his past, a troubled relationship with his children, fed by his years lost in addiction, was enough to frighted her off. After all, less than a decade of drinking had led to more than two of sobriety, no easy feat. No, she could trust him to take care of himself on that front. She couldn't have him on her team otherwise.

No, the root of any hesitance was found in the dearness with which she already held him. She'd never known a friendship quite like the one they shared. Their convenient plus-one's, their easy companionship, the deeper, richer confidences they had grown to share- those things she held sacred above anything else. It had been years since she'd felt she'd had a partner, a kindred spirit, a ride or die. The idea that he would arrive in the form of Andy Flynn, should seem ludicrous.

She'd had a husband, without the marriage. Her children had a father, but no dad. In thirty-two years of marriage to Jack Raydor, they had lived together, consecutively, for only three. Oh, he'd been around, from time to time, always leaving behind tears and disappointment yet, oddly enough, never any money. The arrangement suited him well- a home and family, waiting for him, children too thrilled to see him to question why he didn't miss them enough to see them more, no bills to scrape and toil over, no late-night visits to the ER, no chicken pox or den meetings.

She'd finally put an end to it, enough at least to save them from complete destitution. Protecting her children and their future became her top priority. Protecting herself would come in time. Pondering a future of her own was the furthest thing from her mind. Financial security, definitely. Professional success, yes. Romance? A deep and abiding union? The potential of sex? Not on her radar. And she was certainly not willing to risk all she had cobbled together on some meaningless dalliance.

Enter Andy Flynn, undoubtedly one of the most infuriating, demanding, cantankerous, complicated officers she'd ever encountered. Digging into his file had revealed years of dedicated service, awards of merit and valor, more than sufficient to justify a little extra faith and effort when it came to encouraging him. It had more than paid off. Her trust and favor had been returned ten-old, in the form of a loyal lieutenant and undoubtedly the dearest friendship she had ever known.

If they could maintain that, she thought, they might just set the world on fire.

It was that very notion that warmed her thoughts as she sat before her dressing table, applying a silky plum stain to her lips. Lips as yet unkissed by Andy, she thought with a sly grin. Would he try to kiss her tonight? Would he want to? If he did, would he enjoy it? Did she even remember how? She sighed heavily, her posture drooping before the mirror. Perhaps she was overthinking things. Just a bit.

A soft knock at the front door drew her from her musings. With a quick Just coming! she gave herself a final once-over, grabbed her handbag, and made her way to the door. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pulled it open and smiled in honest anticipation.

I Epiphany

"Andy, hi. Come in," she said, determined to enjoy an evening with him, as usual. If they couldn't even accomplish that without tying themselves into knots, it could just prove too much.

"Hi yourself," he replied, wearing his trademark roguish grin. "These are for you," he added, offering her a tightly packed bouquet of daffodils.

"Thank you, Andy. They're lovely."

Accepting the flowers, she stepped aside, allowing him to enter the quiet condo. As she made her way to the kitchen to tend to the bouquet, he slowly followed, tantalized by the view afforded him by the slit in the back of the dress which, if he wasn't mistaken, was new.

"Where's the kid?" he asked, filling the silence.

"Library, then Mike's. He's got an entire weekend planned with Kevin," she said of Lt. Tao's son. "Non-stop video games, I'd imagine," she chuckled.

"Poor Cathy," he said of Mrs. Tao.

Sharon emerged from the kitchen carrying a green porcelain vase, and placed it in the center of the coffee table.

"There," she said, beaming. "Lovely."

Turning to face him, she found his eyes on her.

"Very lovely," he said, not of the flowers. "New dress?" At her blush and nod, he simply exhaled through pursed lips, shaking his head in appreciation. "Ready to go?"

"I am, yes," she said, excited about their evening to come.

Andy opened the door once again as Sharon retrieved her purse from the shelf nearby. Together, they took their first steps in a new direction, eager to see where it would take them.

Serve was the epitome of elegance. It was fine linens, silver and china, brocade booths and smooth jazz. It was grace and class. It was Sharon Raydor. While Andy was certainly more of a spaghetti and pizza kind of guy, his late mother had taught him manners and they were impeccable. She had also sent him to Miss Martha's School for Social Graces, originally to smooth out the rough edges of his personality, but it had paid off. Years later, when he finally cared, he knew how to dine and dance with a lady. While his skills had been wasted on years of thirty-somethings, he was relieved not to stick out in a place worthy of a real lady.

Dinner went well. Sharon enjoyed the ambience and marveled at the music coming from the piano. Andy used the right fork with the right course. They shared easy conversation as always, catching each other up on the lives of their children.

Once the check was paid, they left behind the bustle of the restaurant and made their way toward the beach for a bit of peace. A usual stop for them, they craved the roar of the waves over the deafening din of the city. In deference to their attire, the stuck to the pier, away from the sand and foam. It was lined with hanging lanterns and potted flowers, making for a picturesque evening stroll.

"Andy," she said, slipping her arm through his as they strolled. "Dinner was marvelous. The food was sublime, the venue beautiful, the music, romantic."

Tightening her hand around his sleeve, she added "but you're not really into that kind of place, so I know it was for me. Thank you."

"Normally, no. I'm not. But, I am into you. You're into that kind of thing."

They stopped at the end of the pier, faces toward the water, the breeze stirring the air about them.

"So, what do you think?" she began. "Can we make this work? Make the leap from friends to- what? Mates? Significant others? Lovers?"

There was an odd mix of lightness to a serious question. Were they on the same page?

He turned sideways, leaning up against the railing, and studied her profile.

"Can I just be completely honest? Just shoot from the hip, you know, Flynn-style?"

She chuckled, eyes still safely of the surf.

"Andy, if we can't be honest, there's no point in talking about moving forward, is there? We haven't found it difficult to talk about hard things in a long time."

"Okay. Agreed. So, here goes. I haven't dated anyone in a good while. A couple of years, actually. I lost interest around the time we started hanging out as friends. Being around you, especially outside of the office, well, no one else really measured up. You're my best friend, Sharon. I mean, aside from Provenza who, frankly, I've never once fantasized about kissing."

She laughed in spite of herself.

"I should hope not," she giggled.

"Here's the thing," he continued. "As my friend, a friend like none I've ever had before, all romantic possibilities aside. As my friend, I love you, Sharon. Very much."

Finally, she turned to him, her eyes finding his, her hand covering his own on the railing.

"Andy, as my friend, I love you, too, very much. That's the one thing I refuse to sacrifice."

"Agreed. We love each other, as friends, if nothing more. Point two. I'm very attracted to you and I have an inkling that the feeling is mutual. I mean, it's electric sometimes. I'm not imagining that, am I?"

She tucked her chin low, and looked up at him from beneath her long lashes.

"No. You're not imagining it."

"I think about you all the time. What you're up to in what little free time you get. I see a book, an article, a movie preview, and I wonder- would Sharon like this? When I have a lousy day, you make it better, just talking it out. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell.

"Sharon, honestly, we've been together without labeling it for a good year now. Whether we've called them dates or outings or whatever, we've done them together because that's what we've chosen. We've been choosing us all along. No matter what it's called, I think we've been," he inhaled, "slowly falling in love the whole time. We just didn't realize it. Love and attraction. Seems like a good place to start, if you ask me. Trust, compatibility, longevity? Those things take time and work. I'm not afraid of either.

She said nothing, which didn't surprise him. Sharon needed to chew on things, never trusting that she already knew the answer.

Turning to him, she said, "Time, work, and patience?" she added. "I've only done this once before and it was a spectacular failure. I only have once more shot in the chamber. I couldn't do it all again. I'm not afraid of hard work, only of working alone."

"I can be patient. Just look how I've kept my hands to myself with you in lavender silk. I'm a damned angel tonight."

At that, she laughed out loud.

"Just one more thing I need to get out of the way, just to be sure."

"What is it?" he asked, again serious.

Stepping forward, she framed his face in her small hands, white as porcelain in the moonlight. Stretching up on tiptoe, she pressed her lips against his, froze, then smiled into the kiss.

It was chaste, but warm and weighted. It was perfect. She remembered what to do, after all. She felt his arms gather her close, not tight or oppressive, but holding her like priceless treasure. It was a moment, a sensation she would replay for days to come.

"You're really good at that, lady," he said as she broke the kiss.

"Thank you," she said with a flirtatious lilt. "Pretty talented yourself."

"Was that what you had to be sure of? That I could kiss?" he teased.

She grinned and slowly shook her head.

"No, that I could. Had to see if I still knew how. You know who has been gone a long time."

"I'm sorry but, boy, is he stupid," he said, pulling her close again. They embraced under the moon's glow, gently swaying to the song of the waves.

They strolled along the boardwalk, hands loosely clasped between them, searching for a cup of coffee and a place to continue their talk. Neither was eager to end their evening, so relieved were they both to have found it easy and free.

Decaf and the soft strains of a piano accompanied their conversation for another solid couple of hours. Kisses shared, fingers braided together, they painted a picture of a love a good bit older than one evening which, they'd agreed, it was.

She again admired the daffodils he'd chosen, smiling atop their slender stalks.

"They're cheerful, don't you think?" she asked, trailing her fingertip up the stem.

"I do. They're also hardy. They can weather a lot, and they're dependable, coming back year after year."

She turned to face him, nodding at his words, their meaning.

He left her at her door, with yet another kiss, chaste but lingering, followed by an embrace that held even more meaning than usual. After a promised text upon arrival home and an agreement to breakfast come morning, Andy left her to her dreams. And what sweet dreams they were.

II A Firm Foundation

Mid-morning the following day found them on the grounds of St. Joseph's. One Saturday a month, work permitting, Sharon volunteered at the church's mission, which sheltered women and children escaping abusive living conditions.

While Sharon sorted clothing in the shade of large warehouse, she watched as Andy worked alongside a group of men constructing rustic, sturdy bed frames on the grassy lawn. He looked genuinely happy.

Andy enjoyed working with his hands, a trade introduced to him by his grandfather in Brooklyn, and one to which he returned in the early days of his newly earned sobriety. He found that keeping his hands busy and his mind focus was a great way to tame his demons.

Watching him working, muscles bunching and rolling beneath his shirt, the swell of his backside, Sharon could well imagine what else his hands could do.

With a roll of her eyes at the direction of her thoughts, under the shadow of the church steeple, she turned her mind back to their talk over breakfast, the flutter in her stomach when Andy greeted her with a wink and a smile.

"What's that smile about?" she asked him from across the table.

The diner was small, out of the way, and near the church. They'd met there a number of times after Mass and both enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere.

"What's wrong with a smile? Do I have to have a reason?" he teased.

"There's nothing at all wrong with it. You have a beautiful smile. You wear it more often these days. I'm just sensing you've something pleasant on your mind. Hence, the smile."

He sipped his tea, having switched after his second cup of coffee of the morning.

"I was thinking about how beautiful you looked in silk and heels last night. The smile came about when I realized you were no less radiant this morning in your jeans and T shirt. Your hair's pulled up, very little makeup and," he exhaled, shaking his head. "I can't look away."

She held his gaze, blinking against the tears that stung her eyes. There was no teasing in his explanation.

"Thank you," she said, her voice thick. She reached up to swipe away the moisture pooling under her lashes.

He lifted his own hand and touched her fingers.

"Don't do that. Please. Never hide how you feel. Not from me."

Sniffing, she caught his hand, braiding their fingers together.

"No hiding. Just not the answer I was expecting. You're full of surprises, Andy Flynn."

He grinned and gave her fingers and gentle squeeze.

"Can I ask you a question? No hiding."

"Okay," she said, eyeing him with caution.

"How are you feeling about, well, everything? Last night, our talk, certain decisions…"

"Kissing? Holding hands? Am I panicking yet? Is that what you're asking?"

Grinning, he dipped his head.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Thats what I'm asking."

Sharon eyed him, then moved into the corner of the booth, motioning for him to join her on the bench.

He took the seat beside her, still warm from her presence, and angled his body to face her.

Still holding his fingers, she lifted her free hand to frame his face. Leaning in close, she pressed her lips to his, humming against him.

Parting, their foreheads rested together, freezing the moment.

"The possibilities are a little overwhelming. Love, romance, intimacy, at this point in our lives, when things are finally settled, it could all go badly."

She felt him holding his breath.

"Or it could be the best thing that's happened since my children were born."

She sat back, toying with his fingers.

"As my friend, I know you won't intentionally hurt me, you'll try to work through tough times, and you'll have my back. I can't imagine you'd do any less as a lover. I know you won't push me beyond what I'm ready to give. Am I nervous? A little. Do I want this? Very much."

His lips found hers in an instant, as if sharing one breath.

"Good," he said against her lips, his voice rough with emotion. "We're in agreement."

That they were. Watching him now as he worked alongside other volunteers, enjoying an easy camaraderie, it was difficult to see in him the angry young officer, troubled by the disastrous effects of the demons he would struggle the rest of his life to defeat.

Today, he was light, his eyes crinkling with laughter, his face pinked by the warm sun. Here, he was just Andy, cheerful, helpful, free of the dirtbags that kept LA's finest on call and on edge. She loved seeing him this way. He'd more than earned a less-troubled path. He'd made his amends, worked to channel his anger, become a man worthy of a second chance.

Maybe she would get one too.

A simple lunch of soup and salad rounded out their morning. When they parted, it was with the promise to reconvene in the evening. Dinner and a movie were on the agenda, and that sounded just about perfect.

As it turned out, neither remembered much about the movie, and that was just fine too.

He joined her for Mass the following morning, the most obvious reason being that he looked for any opportunity to be in her sphere. Andy found, however, that returning to Mass alongside Sharon made for the type of good foundation both were looking for in building their relationship. It made him feel better than he imagined. The guilt he expected to experience was absent, in its place, a sense of profound peace.

Having a companion beside her at Mass felt good, a feeling she'd missed. Andy had joined her for special occasions, Rusty too. Her older children accompanied her on their rare trips home. To hear him softly murmuring prayers and liturgy, sitting straight and tall beside her, to feel her small hand pressed firmly between both of his, filled her with an overwhelming calm. She felt a part of a unit, likeminded, not unlike her place within her team. What she believed mattered. It was precious.

She was not unaware of the attention of the parishioners, nor was she bothered. The tiny smile afforded her by Father Stan encouraged her. It spoke volumes. He'd known her through the difficult times, the lean years. He'd watched her scrape and save, give time and energy she hardly had to her children and her church. He admired her faithfulness and tenacity, and enjoyed seeing it rewarded.

They had lunch and visited the market, stretching their time together. Weekends off were rare and wonderful, and they never knew when their next stretch of uninterrupted time away from the office might happen.

Finally, their perfect first few days together wrapped up. Andy prepared to leave, affording Sharon a little time to herself before Rusty arrived home.

"I've had a great time this weekend," he said as they stood together on her balcony, enjoying the stars above. "Thinking about it will carry me through the next week."

"Me too. It's been great," she said, sad to see it end. "I just love it out here. Up this high, it's easy to forget such ugliness exists in the city. Up here, it's quiet. Just the stars and me. And you." Turning to him, she smiled. "Would you like to have dinner with us some night this week, depending on work?"

"Sounds great. We'll cook, I'll clean. Rusty will beat me at chess. A perfect evening," he chuckled.

He wrapped his arm low about her waist and pulled her close.

Meeting him halfway, she kissed him soundly before simply holding hm. How wonderful was that?

III Like a Rose Blooming

They did meet for dinner that week, twice, and each week that followed. Lunches were shared, on the go, when their caseload permitted. While they didn't announce their change in status, they didn't hide it either. There was no need. It came as no surprise to anyone, except perhaps Assistant Chief Russell Taylor. The fact that he never suspected anything spoke not only to their ability to remain professional, but also to the natural, organic development of their friendship.

Extended time away from the murder didn't present itself for weeks, the occasional dinner at the condo their favorite escape. It was closer to downtown and made for the more reasonable stop after work. It allowed more time together and less time in the car. It also gave them evenings with Rusty.

Finally allowed a free weekend, they found themselves on the receiving end of an invitation from Andy's daughter.

Andy made it a point to never turn down a call from Nicole, unless work prohibited. With the pot sweetened with "If Sharon is free, please bring her along. We'd love to see her!" he was convinced. When Sharon agreed, he was elated. When he imagined her in a swimsuit at the beach, he was, perhaps, in trouble.

Arriving early, Andy set up a shade while Sharon laid a blanket. A cooler was stocked with beverages and snacks. Reclining beneath the umbrella, they gazed at the water, the roar of the waves drowning out the echoes of the murder and madness that had settled in them after a particularly tough case.

Hands reaching for one another as if with minds of their own, they rested together until the soothing warmth chased away the chill.

Eric and Scott passed them by in their race to the water, but Nicole and Dean, lugging towels and a cooler, stopped near the umbrella, finding Andy and Sharon curled together sharing innocent kisses.

"Um, good morning, Dad, Sharon. Pretty day, isn't it?"

They froze, caught one another's eyes, then Nicole's. Laughing, they sat up and greeted her.

"Good morning to you!" said Sharon, beaming. "It is a beautiful day, yes. Thank you for the invitation."

"Of course," Nicole said, smiling and hugging her father. "I'm so glad you could come. I hope you didn't have other plans for the day."

"Only to spend it together," Andy sure her, while reaching for Sharon's hand. "Getting to be with both of you is the best surprise fo all."

Andy took the boys over, allowing Nicole and Dean the opportunity to rest in the shade. When the boys pleaded with Sharon to join them, she rose from her place on the the sand, removed her cover up, and made her way into the shallow water. Andy froze. They boys, their colorful beachball, the breeze, the surf- all stopped. There was only Sharon.

In a suit of Navy blue, one piece with a tank-style top and matching shorts for added modesty, she approached the water as if in slow-motion. With the legs he'd spent months dreaming of now on full display and those auburn tresses escaping their combs in the ocean breeze, she'd had unknowingly cast her spell. Andy was a goner.

The plastic ball hit him in the head, thereby breaking the spell and causing a round of laughter from everyone, but Sharon. She had noticed him noticing her, the pink in her cheeks growing exponentially.

It had been some time since she'd felt that beautiful. Being desired was powerful. It inspired confidence. Not the kind of confidence she felt as a distinguished leader in the LAPD- that she had in spades. No, this kind of confidence was long dormant, hidden beneath layers of doubt. Ugly words and repeated abandonment had lain waste to that kind of confidence. With no effort at all, Andy Flynn had started to bring it back.

She joined them in the salty blue water, swaying with its constant motion. Their eyes held an entire conversation in only a moment. As the boys continued to jump and play, Andy draped an arm around her waist, drew her in, and place a kiss to her cheek. While there, he whispered, "Good God, you're beautiful."

Their few hours on the beach led to a dinner invitation for the following day. Andy was thrilled, still surprised each time his daughter showed him she wanted him around.

Dinner at Nicole's was relaxed and easy. Dean tended the grill and Andy, the boys. The ladies kept a watchful eye on them all from the kitchen window.

"Dad's just like one of the boys," chuckled Nicole. "I can't believe he keeps up with them like he does."

"Oh, he loves it. He's talked of nothing else since you invited us over. He adores those two."

Nicole watched her, the woman his father was finally dating officially, and studied her. Her carriage and mannerisms were so at odds with the image of the laughing woman playing in the surf, or the lady in jeans and a sweater, standing in her kitchen enjoying a glass of lemonade.

She was elegant, graceful, well-spoken and intelligent. Ambitious, obviously, given her profession. Yet she spent her weekend dashing about the beach after a pair of little boys who were honestly quite besotted with her. It was a fascinating mix.

Nicole set a tray of brownies in the center of the table and took a seat.

"These are my favorite. I could devour the whole plate."

Sharon smiled at her, seeing the traces of Andy in her face. The eyes, the mischievous smile.

"They do look delicious," she agreed. "I'd have to do five extra laps in the pool if I ate them. At my age, everything lands right here," she playfully grumbled, resting her hands on her hips.

"You're kidding, right?" The younger woman eyed her, seeing no coy. She was entirely serious.

Sharon nodded, rolling her eyes at the joys of aging.

"Sharon, you're in phenomenal shape."

"For my age, I keep up I suppose. I'm roughly the same age as your mother. I have to stay active because my job demands it but"

"But nothing. You make my point for me. You could be my mom, but I never, ever looked as hot in a swimsuit as you did yesterday."

Sharon's face grew warm and flushed with embarrassment. She hadn't been aiming for hot. Of course she wanted to look good for Andy, and she felt confident enough. It was a modest, age-appropriate piece though. She'd no intention of seeking anyone else's attention.

Nicole noticed the effect her choice of words had on Sharon. She saw it immediately.

"Oh no, Sharon. I didn't mean to embarrass you. You are stunning, and I don't get the feeling you know that. Didn't you see the way my dad looked at you yesterday? I thought I'd have to pick up his jaw and hand it to him," she laughed. "And the best part is, it's not about the suit. You were perfectly modest, I assure you. He looks at you that way all the time. It's why my mom bristles whenever you guys come up in conversation."

Sharon's wide eyes questioned her.

"A stupid fling wouldn't bother her at all, but the idea that he's with a woman like you, classy and intelligent, with an important job, a woman closer to Dad's own age? Infuriates her. He's not just with you for sex," she said plainly.

"No, he's certainly not getting sex out of it," she murmured.

Nicole heard her, but filed it away for later. It was just another clue that this relationship was the real deal. That would, indeed, irritate her mother. Nicole snickered at the thought.

The awkwardness of the moment was, fortunately, broken by Andy, carrying a platter of meat and fish, right off the grill.

He set it on the countertop and turned to find Sharon holding a glass of lemonade, arm extended in offering. Accepting it, he leaned closed and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. It is warm out there."

"It is," she agreed. "I thought I might take a swim if I'm home in time. Cools me off and helps me sleep."

"Your building has a pool?" Nicole asked with longing.

"It does," she replied. "On the roof, and you all are welcome anytime."

They shared a smile, both grateful to have regained the lightness of the late afternoon.

"I've been toying with the idea of putting in a pool," said Andy, taking a seat at the table.

"Really?" both women said in unison.

He looked from one to the other, tickled at their response.

"Yes, really. We all enjoy the water, but rarely have time to visit the beach. I figure the boys would love it, maybe come over more often. Long-term, it increases the value of the home, though I've no plans currently of selling."

"I hope not," said his daughter. "With all the custom touches, the improvements you've made. You've invested a lot of time and passion there, Dad. It's beautiful. Right, Sharon?"

Caught mid-sip, she nodded.

"Yes, it is. Well, the little I've seen. The living room is lovely, very warm. I like the spacious kitchen too. I haven't seem the rest yet, but I definitely see your father's handiwork. I never knew what a skilled carpenter he was."

Andy shook his head, unaccustomed to such praise.

"Busy hands don't feel empty," he said into his glass. When he felt a warm palm against his back, he knew Sharon had heard, and understood.

"Out of a dark, lonely time, you created something beautiful. In more ways than one, Andy. It's very admirable," she said, kissing his cheek.

"Perfectly put, Sharon," added Nicole. "My dad is the perfect example of what people can do if they want to badly enough. He's my hero."

Andy blinked away the tears that threatened.

"Mine too," Sharon whispered in his ear.

"Oh hey, I wanted to ask a favor. Dean and I have a banquet to attend in a couple of weeks. Some corporate thing. Bland food, long speeches. Anyway, I know it's a couple of weeks out and your work schedule can change suddenly, but would you be able to come over and watch the boys? I can arrange a back up sitter in case you get called in."

Andy took a deep breath. He couldn't get used to it. Being needed, wanted. Trusted.

"I'd love to. We'll make pizza, watch a movie, build a pillow fort."

Nicole's face held a mixture of joy and fear- for her house.

"I'll supervise," offered Sharon.

Nicole exhaled, laughing.

"Thank you!"

A trio of intense cases filled the next two weeks with anger and despair. There was no time for more than a quick shower and change most days. Meals were eaten on the go. They napped a couple of hours at a time. The team was exhausted and weary. Closing their cases brought little satisfaction in light of the wreckage left in their wake.

Sharon and Andy desperately needed the cheerful laughter of his grandchildren. While they looked forward to their Friday night plans, and were grateful to keep them, they were drained. They were as affected as the rest of the team by the ugliness, the darkness through which they'd all waded over the past several days. Neither wanted to carry that darkness into their time with the boys, to taint their innocence.

Fortunately, given the gross overage of hours worked, they were dismissed mid-morning, following the completion of paperwork.

Sharon invited Andy to the condo, where he could shower, change, eat, and sleep without waisting precious energy on driving. Given how little they'd slept lately, it was also safer.

Once at her place, Andy made his way to the ensuite, bag in hand, and enjoyed his first unhurried shower in nearly two weeks.

Sharon slipped off her blazer and heels and proceeded to lay out the take out they'd grabbed on the way. Neither had the energy to cook.

Andy joined her a few moments later and they enjoyed a simple meal with little conversation. Their thoughts were too dark and deep. The silence was better.

While Sharon took her shower, Andy cleaned up their lunch, and settled on the couch to wait for her.

When she joined him, Sharon took the seat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder. There were no words needed, and none sufficient.

They sat in silence for a bit before she looked up at him.

"Care for a nap? We both need sleep and I think we'll both rest better together."

"I'd like that," he said, agreeing with her. "I'll follow you anywhere."

He followed her to her bedroom and joined her on the mattress.

When she unfolded the light blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over them, he smiled. She was a nurturer. When she curled against his side, resting her arm across his middle, he sighed. For the first time in weeks, he felt a bit of serenity.

Each stirred easily at first, tensing and jerking at the darkness which tried to invade their dreams. Before long they changed position, rolling to their sides, spoon-style, tucked closely together as if for their own protection. Finally, blessed rest came.

They slept for hours, curled safely and comfortably together before waking to the changing light in the window.

Stirring, they took a moment to enjoy their current situation. Each smiled at the easy comfort of being held.

"Feel better?" he asked, voice dry and travelled with heavy sleep.

"I do," she said, rolling toward him

Tracing the lines of his face with gentle strokes, she smiled.

"You?"

"Much. Better than I can remember, actually. Even before this last long haul. You look beautiful. The light brings out the different tones in your hair."

"Which, I'm certain, is a mess. I didn't bother drying it. I've no make up on."

"You don't need that stuff," he said with total sincerity. "Without the makeup and glasses, your eyes are different. Natural and vulnerable. Extra green."

"Thank you," she said, sniffing. "But now you know my secret. Make up, glasses…. They're"

"Your armor?" he finished, knowing.

Sharon inched closer and kissed him.

"Exactly."

"I repeat. You don't need that stuff. Not here. Not with me."

"Thank you. I'll try and remember that."

He sat up against the headboard, pulling her with him lest she think he would take advantage of their current location.

"How about we hit the market and grab what we need for dinner with the boys. I haven't been to the store for myself in weeks. My cupboards are bare."

"Same. Rusty picked up some things to tide him over this week. I figure I'll make a run tomorrow morning. Get caught up on a few things I've been too busy to get to. Say, do you think Nicole and Dean would like to bing the boys over to swim this weekend? With the amount of overtime we've amassed, we're all but guaranteed the time off."

"If they've no other plans, yeah. They'd probably love it. The boys for sure. I'll give her a call, double check things for tonight. Ask about coming over here. Want to hear her voice anyway."

"Yes. I'm going to try to catch Emily after rehearsal. I'd like to talk to her for a moment before we go."

He understood. It was common for them to touch base after a tough case. It helped.

"Okay, let's get moving then. We'll give the girls a ring, then pop into the market on the way to Nic's. Good?"

Rolling her shoulders, she smile.

"Yeah. And thank you again. I needed the rest and I don't think I would have slept if I'd been alone."

"Me either. Why do you think I agreed so easily? Cases like these always mess with my dreams. Not today, though."

"No. Not today."

They baked plenty of pizza, allowing Eric and Scotty to pick their own toppings and decorate their own small pies. Andy prepared a pizza covered in vegetables, large enough to share with Sharon, who made a special dessert pizza for later.

"I've never had pizza for dessert before," said Scott, with an adorable toothless grin that stole Sharon's heart.

"Oh, it's the best. My kids loved it when they were your age. We sprinkle some cinnamon sugar on the dough to make the crust sweet. Then we top it with apples. I think you'll like it."

And they did.

After dinner, Andy took them out back to run off some energy.

Sharon saw to the kitchen, even though Andy told her he'd take care of it. He needed time with his grandsons, not doing dishes and wiping down countertops.

By the time the kitchen and table had been put to rights, the boys were chased upstairs to shower and dress for bed.

Back downstairs in their pajamas, they collapsed on a bed of pillows, a movie queued and ready. Curled up between Sharon and Andy, who rested against the base of the sofa, they watched the first half hour before dosing off.

Situating both boys comfortably on the floor, they then curled onto the couch and shut off the movie.

"I guess they do eventually run out of energy, after all," said Andy.

"They do, yes," she chuckled. "Can I make you some tea?"

He reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze, and smiled.

"No, let me make it. You cleaned the kitchen. I mostly just sat on the porch and watched the boys play."

"Thank you," she said, following him to the kitchen.

She took a seat and watched him fill the kettle and set it on the burner to heat.

He grabbed a pair of mugs from the corner and looked through the container of tea he pulled from the cabinet.

"Chamomile, perfect. Just I case you're still worried about sleep."

"Or, you could sleep over and we'll both rest better."

Sharon rather surprised herself with the offer, but didn't take it back. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so well, despite worrying she wouldn't remember how to share a bed. Figuring it spoke to their growing level of closeness, she let the invitation stand.

"Yeah? I don't to crowd you, Sharon, or make you feel uncomfortable."

"We are woefully lacking in rest, Andy, and obviously we rest well together. I'm sure. Rusty is in Palo Alto with Ricky right now, remember? The condo is too quiet."

He did remember. She'd wanted him out of the city with multiple cases going. There were three madmen on the loose and they were spread far too thin.

"We can sleep in, hit the market, and get ready for your daughter and her family to join us for the afternoon."

"That sounds great. I've got a couple of changes of clothes in the trunk. I didn't know when we'd close our cases and had no way knowing when I'd get to run home again. I'd love to stay over. You're right. We'll sleep much better together."

Truth was, he'd do anything to curl up with her again. Her soft skin, sweet smell. She was utterly feminine. There was no better feeling than snuggling up next to her. Damn, he was a lucky man.

Nicole and Dean returned home to find the boys sleeping heavily on the floor and their sitters sharing kisses on the sofa.

"Hi there," Nicole giggled.

"Sorry," said Sharon, separating herself from Andy and smearing away the color transferred from her lips to his.

"Don't apologize. It's what people in love do," she cooed. "You two are precious together. It's not everyday I get to catch my dad all loved up and snogging on the sofa. Seems a little backwards," she laughed.

Andy eyed Sharon carefully. She did not like attention and she certainly didn't like being exposed in a personal moment. Even if Nicole didn't mind at all, Sharon was intensely private, even more than he.

Her cheeks were pink, her jaw set, her lower lip caught beneath her teeth. He recognized the signs.

"If you guys want to get these guys to bed, we'll get things picked up down here. We've had some tea. Can I make you some?"

Nicole noticed the shift. Her father sprung into action, looking for a job to do. Sharon seemed flustered. When Dean moved to pick up Eric and Andy made for the kitchen, she laid a hand aside Sharon's arm.

"Sharon? Can I tell you something?"

Sharon kept her seat, but tried to politely face the young woman.

"I think I may have embarrassed you just now and I certainly didn't mean to. I apologize. You and my dad, well, honestly you fascinate me. I haven't seen many relationships like yours. I only hope Dean and I still look at each other the way you two do, years from now. You guys have entire conversations in one look."

Timidly, she covered the older woman's hand.

"I have never seen my dad look as happy and at peace with himself as he is now. I know you remember the anger, the frustration. It's gone now."

"I do remember. Neither of us are who we used to be. Can I ask you a question?"

At Nicole's nod, she forged ahead.

"You said you hadn't seen many relationships like this. What did you mean?"

"Nothing bad, I promise. It's not a comment about you guys kissing in my living room- please don't blush. You're happy. Enjoy it. It's not that or anything to do with age or your jobs. It's well, my parents never really got along. I knew they loved each other, but I'm not sure they ever liked who the other was. Most of my friends parents were divorced. My mom and step-dad are good together, but they're not like you and Dad. They get along. They're very like-minded. There's just not much passion, and I don't mean physical. I'm talking fire. There's a real intimacy between you and Dad. Again, I'm not talking about sex. You and Dad are feisty. You're playful. You're passionate, about one another, about your families, the things that matter to you. You fight for justice, chase down the literal bad guys, you volunteer at church. Yes, he told me. You got him back to church. Then, after two solid weeks of work, with hardly a break, you came over to babysit my children, made them dinner, and left my kitchen spotless.

"My dad looks at you like the sun rises and sets on you. Love looks good on him. And you know what? You look at him the same way. You two fascinate me. It's what I want with Dean. You guys make me think we can keep it."

"You can. I saw you at your wedding and I have seen you countless times since. You have a look, too."

Nicole reached for her hand and squeezed it.

"I guess when Dad kept saying you two were the best of friends, for months and months, he meant it. That's the best way to start. I know."

"Yes, it is. And we are."

"You're very easy to talk to, Sharon. My mom likes talking. Listening, not so much."

"So are you. There aren't many people I'm comfortable being open with. My mother and sister are so far away, my daughter too. I don't work with many women, as you can imagine. Your dad's a very good sounding board, believe it or not."

"He is. I'm relearning that. I'm glad Eric and Scotty get to know him as a grandfather. My mom still refers to them as Dean's boys," she said, eyes full of hurt.

"You're a wonderful mom to those boys, Nicole. It takes a special person to love someone else's child as her own."

"And you should know. Thank you for saying that. I do love them and I know how much you love Rusty."

"Oh, I do. I understand. Anytime you need a good listener, Nicole, you call me. I'll answer."

Andy hung back, allowing them to chat. He wasn't intentionally listening, only checking to see that Sharon was calmer. He noticed they ease with which the pair sat and talked, and smiled.

Seeing him at the edge of the kitchen, Sharon called to him.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah. You?" he asked, approaching them.

"I am. I'd have thought our nap earlier would have kept me going a little longer."

"One nap isn't going to make up for a few hours sleep each night for two weeks. We'll sleep in tomorrow," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and gently massaging.

"Oh, I'll keep you," she groaned in relief. "Take me home and I'll even return the favor."

"Well see you guys tomorrow afternoon, Sweetheart. About three o'clock?"

"Perfect," she beamed. "The boys will be thrilled. Thank you again for the invite, Sharon."

"I'm looking forward to it," she replied. "Please tell Dean goodnight."

"I will," she said, following them to the door. Hugging her, she whispered, "Love looks good on you too. Don't hide from it. Embrace it."

Embrace it.

Again the slept, lulled by the exhaustion, the comfort of a trusted friend, and smiles born of two snaggle-toothed boys. Spooned together, they barely moved throughout the night. Just as before, they focused on the peace they felt, rather than the darkness of the previous days. The difference came in waking.

When Sharon awoke the next morning, she was alone, the bed beside her cold. Closing her eyes, she listened for the sound coming from the shower, the television. Then, she smelled the inviting aroma of coffee. A thought occurred to her. She looked and listened. Her first thought upon finding him gone was not that he had left her, only where he was. Holding onto that, she smiled. That was wonderful. And telling. Her trust was regrowing, as were many things.

Making a brief stop in the ensuite, she the padded softly through the condo, finding Andy hard at work in her kitchen.

"What happened to sleeping in?"

"No, no! I'm not ready!" he called over his shoulder. "Could you get back in bed, please?"

"Andy," she said, approaching him from behind. "What are you up to?"

He turned in his spot, sporting her frilly purple apron over his pajama pants and T shirt.

"Please, Sharon? Get back in bed."

She cross her arms before her chest, tilting her head in curiosity.

"Fine, fine. I'm going back to bed. Crazy man," she mumbled.

Back in bed, she sat under the covers, waiting for Andy to join her and unveil whatever he had up his sleeve. Leaning back against the pillows, she thought back over the previous evening.

Arriving back at the condo, she checked in with her youngest before adding a few items to the grocery list on the counter.

She then readied herself for bed and found Andy, relieved he would again sleep beside her. She couldn't remember such good rest.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Andy called as he slipped through the door, pretending they'd not already spoken.

"A good morning to you. What have you brought me?" she asked, eyeing the tray he carried. She could make out a small pot. That would be the coffee, and a vase. The rest was blocked.

Sitting up, she watched eagerly as he placed the tray on the corner of the bed, then sat beside her.

"Sleep well?" he asked, learning close and kissing her cheek.

"Very. You?"

"Better the last two nights than in recent memory."

"Same. So, what have you brought me? I smell coffee and bacon perhaps?"

"Yes, and eggs and fruit. No newspaper, sorry. We live it. It's depressing," he said, draping a linen napkin across her lap.

"Andy," she said. "What is this?" she asked, reaching for the vase.

It held a rose, but one unlike any she'd seen before. It was thin and delicate, with all the detail and elegance of a natural rose, but made of wood. It was soft and smooth, free of rough edges. Without thinking, she drew it near as if to smell it, and was delighted to discover it had a scent. A familiar one.

"Andy," she sighed. "This smells like"

"You," he said, almost nervous about her reaction. "It's your perfume. The fragrance calms me. I've needed it after the last couple of weeks."

"The rose," she said, twirling it in her fingers.

"I made it the night of our first date. I couldn't sleep when I got home, so"

"You carved this?" she asked, astounded. "I knew you'd made furniture, picture frames, and the like but this," she paused. "This is so detailed and fine. It's extraordinary."

She found his eyes.

"Thank you."

"I've made a few since then. After seeing you, it's sometimes hard to settle my mind. I'm too excited to sleep. So I keep my hands busy. This one is my favorite so far. I'm glad you like it."

"Oh," she sighed. "I do. I really do. Andy, it's exquisite. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I thought maybe you'd like a flower that wouldn't wilt and die. This is going to last, Sharon."

"I think you may be right," she said, understanding his meaning.

They enjoyed their breakfast in bed, peppered with playful, still innocent kisses. They then got dressed for a grocery run. They had guests coming.

Making short work of the market, they returned to Sharon's condo and got ahead of their dinner preparations before enjoying a restful hour.

Nicole and Dean arrived with their boys right on time. Eric and Scott could hardly contain their excitement. They loved the water. The idea that Sharon had a pool at home, on the roof, secured her the title of Super Cool.

Once everyone was suited and ready, they boarded the elevator to the rooftop pool, laden with floatables and towels. Andy carried a small cooler of water and fruit.

After being slathered in sunscreen, the boys jumped into the pool, Andy and Dean right behind them.

"Sometimes it's like having four boys," Nicole sighed.

"It is," Sharon laughed. "I love seeing him so carefree and light, especially after a run like we've had the past couple of weeks. It helps chase away some of the darkness. There are far less self-destructive ways to cope, believe me."

As Sharon took a seat on the edge of the pool, dangling her long legs into the water, Nicole chewed on her words. Self-destructive, chase away the darkness.

Eyeing her father, she noted that his eyes, like Sharon's, still carried a shadow, lighter today than yesterday, but still heavier than they should. Nicole could only imagine the things the pair saw everyday, up close and not only in the news like the rest of them. They launched themselves head first, into that darkness daily, to try and keep others from feeling tainted by it. She suddenly thought to herself, It's a wonder they're not all alcoholics. The thought humbled her and soured her stomach. Oh, Daddy.

"Honey, you okay?" Sharon asked as the younger woman sat beside her, lost in her thoughts.

Nicole merely shook her head.

"Okay," knowing she wasn't. "Just remember. I listen."

Nicole turned to her, still troubled, and gave her a short nod.

They turned their attention to the laughter emanating from the pool, then slid into the water to join them.

Soon the darkness was overtaken by the light of their boys, two young, two young at heart. The best remedy of all.

They splashed and played, tossing a ball, or the boys, back and forth. When exhaustion began to settle in, they climbed from the water and toweled off. Despite protests to the contrary, Eric and Scott wore tired smiles and droopy eyes. So, back downstairs they went.

While Dean got them cleaned up and changed, Andy found something to occupy them while dinner preparations were finished. He set a puzzle out on Sharon's coffee table, then made for the kitchen.

After changing out of her suit, Sharon joined him and, together, got supper going. Before long, the savory aroma of buttery onion and honeyed saffron filled the air and the senses.

"Andy, that smells unbelievably good, much more tempting than the salad and dessert I was assigned. You're showing me up in my own kitchen."

Turning from his station at the stove, he pecked her lips and winked.

"Not at all, Sweetheart. It's just not everyday I get most of my favorite people together for dinner. Plus, after the past couple of weeks, I think we need a good home-cooked meal."

"Healing through food."

"Healing through celebrating those I love," he clarified, kissing her more firmly before retuning to his work.

She wrapped her arms around him from behind, tightly squeezing, and pressing her cheek against him. Holding onto the moment, they shared the same thought. Gratitude.

They dined well that night. Saffron risotto, scallops, and vegetables. Eric and Scott made quick work of their dinner, quickly moving on to Sharon's strawberry shortcake. The whipped cream smeared across their faces was their seal of approval.

Dean took the boys to clean up, leaving Nicole to visit with her father.

"Dad, Sharon, this was amazing, really. I've always been intimidated by risotto."

"Me too," Sharon agreed. "Your Dad's is perfect, every time," she added, reaching for his hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Just takes patience," he said, "and believe me, the irony of me being patient enough is not lost on me."

"It was wonderful, Dad. Really. Thank you, and thank you, Sharon, for having us over. Your place is really beautiful. Warm and inviting. The boys loved the pool. I wish Rusty had been able to join us. I'd like to know him better."

"You're welcome anytime, Nicole. Rusty will be sorry he missed this. He'll be back from Palo Alto tomorrow evening. I've missed him, but we wouldn't have seen each other at all the past several days."

Dean and the boys returned, the weight of the day catching up with them.

"We should probably get these guys home soon or we'll have to carry them."

He set his hands on his wife's shoulders and pressed a kiss to the back of her head.

Covering his hands with her own, she looked up at him and smiled in agreement.

"Let me help you clean up and we'll get out of here," Nicole told them.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's only this," Sharon said, gesturing to the table. "The rest is already rinsed and in the dishwasher."

"She cleans as she goes," Andy said.

"Just like you," said Nicole. "Quite a pair."

They said their goodbyes, exchanged hugs, I love you's, and Call me's, and then Sharon and Andy found themselves alone.

"Why don't I finish the kitchen and you can get off your feet," he said.

"No way, Chef. Go grab your shower. I've had mine. I've got this. Meet me on the couch?"

"You bet. I'll be fast," he said with a grin.

"Thank you for opening your home to my kids. I can't get used to spending time with them, you know? I've wanted a second chance for so long. I sometimes can't believe I have it."

"You've earned it, Andy. Never doubt it. It's more than I can say for some," she said, eyes moving past him.

"Something on your mind, babe? You look like you're chewing on something."

"I," she paused. "I want to talk with you, but I don't quite know how to begin."

"Okay," he said, bringing her hand to his lips. "You can tell me anything. We've always been able to talk things through. Just take. Your time."

"We've never talked about this though."

"Doesn't matter," he assured her. "I'm right here. No judgement, no assumptions."

Sharon took a deep breath and released it, concentrating on the soothing motion of his thumb circling her skin.

He could feel the tension rolling off of her and wondered at its source. She was incredibly confident and capable as an officer, a leader. There was an inexplicable vulnerability to her out of the office though. She'd spent years focused on her work, her children, almost all of which, she'd done on her own. He knew only what she'd shared of her upbringing, her marriage. Andy knew Jack Raydor, of course. Not well. They frequented the same local watering holes. He knew him to be loud and charismatic when drunk, but also mean and mouthy. He made unkind comments about his wife, brought around other women. He was, frankly, an ass.

Andy had never asked Sharon for details regarding her marriage. It wasn't his business. She, however, was. He hoped, in time, she would feel safe enough to share with him anything and everything she felt was necessary and relevant to their relationship. Beyond that, he'd be happy to never think of Jack Raydor again.

Sharon turned to him and laid her palm aside his cheek, rough at day's end. Smiling, she shook her head and spoke.

"I want to kiss you, Andy."

He started to speak.

"I want to touch you and hold you, but"

"Sweetheart," he said, kissing the inside of her hand. "Why is this so hard? How can I make it easier?"

He tucked her hair behind her ear, and smiled.

"I don't want to tease you, or lead you on."

"Sharon, are you afraid to initiate something because you're afraid I'll misunderstand and expect more?"

She tucked her lower lip beneath her teeth and shrugged.

"Okay, I would really like to hear anything you would like to share, to get off your chest. First though, know this. I will never expect more from you than you are ready, willing, or comfortable giving. Before anything else, you are my friend. Do you understand me?"

Sniffing, she nodded.

"Okay. Thank you."

"Okay."

Turning, she sat sideways on the sofa, her knee resting on his thigh, their joined hands on top.

"My grandmother told me before my wedding that a good wife had to learn to grin and bear it when it came to sex. I soon found that was ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes. "I loved Jack and I loved being with him."

She watched him for signs he was unwilling to hear about the intimate details of her marriage to a man he could not stand. She saw none.

"That didn't last very long. As his drinking worsened, he became aggressive and selfish. I was no longer interesting enough, couldn't please him. I didn't have a girl's figure after two children and two other failed pregnancies. He said things. Unkind things.

"When I tried to initiate things, to find new ways to interest him, he accused me of cheating. Where else would I have gotten those new ideas? Ironic, considering how long he'd been unfaithful to me at that point."

Finding his eyes as tear-filled as her own, she continued.

"It was sex, Andy. Aside from that first year or two, it was just sex to Jack. Self-satisfying. I'm not sure we ever made love. I don't want that with you. You're too dear to me."

Framing her face, he tugged her close and kissed her eyelids, his thumbs wiping away her tears.

"My grandparents were married for many years, until my grandmother finally passed. The last two years she was alive, my gramps did everything for her. She'd suffered a stroke, you see, and couldn't walk. She lost most function on one side of her body, couldn't speak clearly. He carried her from room to room, helped her eat, bathed her. Everything. But you know what he was really doing? Making love. Every time he gave of himself to serve her, they were making love in the only way they still could. No sex included.

"Sleeping beside you this weekend? Making love. Taking care of each other through the hell of the last few weeks-making love. Even now, learning to share and trust one another with our vulnerabilities."

"Making love," she said, sniffing.

"Thank you for telling me about your marriage. You didn't have to, but it helps me know you better. Never be afraid to share with me those things you feel will help me to understand you. Never be afraid to express yourself because you fear I'll take advantage of the opportunity. We have evolved slowly and certainly, regardless of who thought what and when. The physical stuff will too. I think we'll know when we're there. Don't worry. I'm not."

Her arms arched around him, drawing him toward her.

"So, if I were to kiss you like this?"

She firmly kissed him, for the first time allowing it to deepen, lips and tongues meeting in a slow dance.

"I would assume only that you wanted to kiss me, and be kissed in return," he said when they parted. His voice was low and husked, betraying the thrumming of his heart.

Unfastening the topmost button of his shirt, she slipped her hand beneath the fabric, her hands relishing the warmth of his body under her palm

"And if I touched you like this?"

"That you need to touch and be touched," he said, his eyes on hers.

Slowly, but with boldness, she climbed into his lap, a knee at each side, and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling him snugly against her.

"And if I hold you close?"

"I will be grateful you need to be held as much as I do."

They held each other in silence and let the heaviness of their talk lighten and float away.

Finally, he kissed the side of her head.

"This right here?" he whispered. "Making love."

IV And Here I'll Stay

Yet another case had monopolized their time and attention. A hand-off by Robbery-Homicide spoiled their weekend off, but after the fifth day of investigation, they finally had a promising lead. Surveillance showed him to be at a home on the outskirts of LA.

The area was a sparsely populated section of Old Topanga, a rural part of LA County. The property itself was a large lot with a home set back from the main road, more dirt than grass, with a wooden fence which was collapsed or missing altogether in places. A garage was tucked back behind the house, with a long, gravel driveway stretching to the road.

With officers stationed at road and another checking an odd outside door seen by overhead spotters, Sharon and Andy approached the house.

The Captain wasn't in the field as often as her predecessor, but with her second in command still enroute from checking yet another worthless lead, it was all hands on deck. At the moment, Sharon was thankful she'd taken the opportunity to change into more field-appropriate footwear, having traded her four-inch Manolos for low-heeled boots as Andy drove.

"I certainly hope this pans out," she said. "This one's taken far too long to wrap up already. We need to catch a break. Taylor's going to be barking about overtime costs soon."

"I can hear him already. I hope we can put this one to bed soon. We have dinner with Nicole tomorrow and I hate canceling on her."

"I know. So do I. I know she understands, but I still hate it when work messes with family plans. Should be used to it, I guess."

They climbed the steps to the house and unfastened their holsters, looking around. Long porch, steps in front and to the side, leading to the drive. Dirty, cracked windows, chipped paint. With a little care, it could be nice.

"Ready?" asked Andy, searching her eyes.

With a curt nod from Sharon, Andy knocked on the door.

On the road, Provenza arrived, pulling over and climbing from his car.

"What have we got?" he asked of the officers stationed along the entrance to the property.

"Raydor and Flynn are checking out our person of interest. Manning circled around to check out what looks like an old basement door."

Provenza's eyes cut to the house.

"That's unusual out here. This is California, not Kansas."

The area was not known for cellars, given weather and geography. They were, however, a way to increase the size of a home when local zoning laws otherwise forbade it.

"Okay, I'm going to check in with the rest of our people," he said of their scattered team.

Again, Andy knocked on the door, his fist pounding against the wood.

"LAPD, Mr. Lanier. We'd like to ask you some questions, sir."

Sharon peered through the windows, looking for movement from within the house.

The revving of an engine immediately got their attention. They knew what it meant. It was instinct.

Weapons drawn, they raced to the end of the porch where a second set of steps led to the driveway. They stepped onto the gravel drive to see an old Impala barreling toward them. Guns raised, they took aim.

There wasn't a chance to fire as the Impala changed its trajectory by only a few degrees, aiming directly for the pair.

A million sensations flooded Sharon's being in an instant. Arms grabbing at her from behind, pulling her backward, a blow to her side, air leaving her, landing hard, hitting her head. The pain should have registered, but instinct took over.

With great effort from her supine position, she raised her arm, gun shaking in her grip. Blinking wildly against the dust and debris, she struggled with her aim at the quickly retreating car.

In a moment, her arm was steadied, held in the firm grip of another, his palm cupping her elbow. As her hand stilled, she squeezed off two rounds.

A large pop sounded and the car careened into the ditch at the end of the drive.

She tried to sit up, but was persuaded to lie back down The sudden appearance of the expected pain seared through her right side, quickly changing her mind.

Seeing her failed attempt, hearing the groan that emanated from her, Andy crawled to her, pulling her head into his lap.

"Sharon, just lie still," he panted. "Sweetheart, where does it hurt?

One hand passed over her body, searching for the source of her pain, while the other gently raked her hair away from her face.

"Mm, side. I'm okay. I just got the wind knocked out of me, I think. Help me up, will you?"

"You're fine where you are, Babe. You're hurt, your breathing is shallow, and you're clammy. Stay put. It's under control. You got him."

Andy shook his head.

"And you made Provenza run. Almost."

The senior lieutenant crossed the field at an odd trot, followed by Lt. Tao, who had just joined them at the scene. Each dropped to one knee alongside their captain, the former calling for a medic.

"Hey, Captain. Tell me what you're feeling," said Tao.

Sharon's eyes looked up and, finding Andy's head tilted in askance, she huffed and gave in.

"Pain in my side and my shoulder," she panted. "It hurts to breathe."

Tao looked to Andy for further explanation.

"The car came right at us. I tried to pull her back, but it still clipped her. It knocked her back and she fell on top of me."

Tao grimace and looked at his captain.

"Ma'am, medics are on the way. Can I move your blazer aside and take a look?"

She merely nodded, her left hand blindly reaching overhead, searching for Andy's.

He grabbed a hold and didn't let go.

Mike took off his own jacket and draped it over the Captain's legs, then gingerly folded back her blazer. The blue silk beneath was scuffed and torn. Through the tattered silk, he could already see the delicate porcelain skin swollen and pink, with the dark splotches that signaled bruised or broken ribs.

Andy also saw the darker skin and cursed under his breath.

When the paramedics joined them, Mike stepped aside and spoke to personnel with whom he'd worked closely over the years.

"Complaining of pain in her right side and shoulder. Breathing is shallow. Was side-swiped by the car fleeing the scene. Ribs look bad."

He then excused himself to help finish securing the scene.

The medics moved to work on either side of the Captain, so Provenza took a step back and looked down at his friends.

"I'll see that things are wrapped up here, then meet you both at the hospital. I'll pick up Rusty on the way."

"Thanks, Louie," Andy said, while Sharon only nodded.

She lie as still as possible, worrying her lower lip with her teeth in an effort not to cry out as they prodded and poked.

They pulled back both layers of her clothing, annoying her with their lack of care for it. That is was already ruined, mattered not.

Twenty minutes later, she was placed on a stretcher and loaded into the back of an ambulance, a mask feeding her assistive oxygen, her hand once again safely held in Andy's.

KP Woodland Hills was a good hospital, near their crime scene, and less than an hour from Los Feliz.

Sharon was resting somewhat more comfortably an hour later. With Chief Pope calling ahead in a rare display of compassion, but a completely predictable show of throwing his weight around, she was seen immediately. Arrival by ambulance helped as well.

An x-ray and MRI had been completed and her pain was aided by intravenous meds. Now, the wait.

Andy sat on the bed near her hip, his left hand covering hers. He turned his head this way and that, indicative of his stress. He rotated his free hand, aching a bit since Sharon had fallen on it. If he were completely honest, all of him ached. That was some fall and he was too old for those things.

"What's wrong with your wrist?"

"Nothing. We fell hard. How are you? Pain any better?"

He let go of her hand and ran his palm down her leg.

"Okay right now. I've got the good stuff. Have you heard from Rusty?"

"I did. Told him there was no need to skip class. I'll update him after we talk to the docs. He seemed okay once I promised him you were okay."

"Hopefully, we'll be out of here before he tries to drive out."

"Captain Raydor, I'm Dr. Reynolds. I'm the on-call this afternoon. I've got your films here. You've had a pretty exciting day, huh?"

"About average for us, actually, minus me. I'm usually stuck behind a desk."

"Well, you're about to be again, I'm afraid," he said. "You have two broken ribs there," he explained as he gestured toward her side. "Mild concussion from your crash landing and a tiny tear in your shoulder. That should heal well, but baby it for a while. Then some exercises to straighten it again, very gradually. The ribs, though. That will be a long, slow recovery. Around the clock help for the next four or five days, at least. Preferably a full week. No debate or I'll admit you. I don't want to risk you puncturing a lung. Then, two weeks, no work. Non-negotiable. Another four, desk duty only. You take your meds, no toughing it out. Follow all discharge instructions. Understand?"

"She will, guaranteed," growled Andy.

Sharon cut him a look that spoke volumes of discontent.

"Will you please check him out?" she asked. "He fell too, and he's been favoring his wrist ever since."

"It's just a sprain, Sharon. It's nothing."

That earned him another look.

"We'll make sure you're both in good shape before sending you on your way."

Andy nodded. It wasn't worth arguing. It really was just sprained. His phone rang. Provenza. He held it up and gestured toward the hall.

"Be right back."

He left her with the medical staff while he dealt with his partner.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the wall, exhaustion evident in his voice.

"How's the Captain?" asked Provenza, getting to the point.

"On the mend," he said. "Two broken ribs, tear in her shoulder, minor concussion. I should be able to take her home in a while."

"Or maybe don't take her home."

Andy exhaled. What now?

He walked to the end of the hall, where a large window allowed for a sweeping view of the south parking lot.

"Well, the kid was getting ready to meet you up there. I swung by to get him, but Jack was there. He apparently heard about what happened over a police scanner, showed up demanding to see Sharon."

"Is Rusty okay?" Andy asked voiced raised.

"Yeah, yeah. I put Raydor in a squad car, sent him home. Can't swear he won't be back though."

"That's all she needs," he huffed. "Okay, have Rusty pack some things for the both of them, then take him over to my place. Can you do that?"

"I can. Let me know when you guys break out of there. I'll take the kid to grab a bite, let you get her settled at your place first."

"Okay, okay. Good. Thanks, old man. I owe you."

"What's one more?" he pretended to grumble.

Thanks to powerful pain meds, Sharon slept all the way to Andy's place. When they arrived, he left the car and unlocked the house. Returning to the passenger side for her, he considered how best to get her inside. As much as he'd prefer to carry her, that wouldn't be comfortable for her ribs.

Kneeling beside the open door, he traced the lines of her face with his fingertips.

"Sweetheart, we're home. I think it'll hurt a little less if you walk. You've still got plenty of pain medicine on board. Let's get you inside and comfortable before it starts to wear off."

Her eyelids fluttered, taking in her current surroundings.

"Andy why are we at your house?"

"Let's get you settled, Babe. I'll make you some tea and we can unwind. You need 'round the clock help for a few days. Rusty is meeting us here. He's with Provenza. Let me take care of you. Please, Sharon."

There had to be more to it, but she had neither the energy, nor the inclination currently to push him.

Once inside, he guided her toward his recliner, in his experience, the best place to sit with busted ribs. When Sharon didn't pause there, he stopped her.

"Hey, let's get you seated and resting."

"Andy, I would very much like to get cleaned up before these meds wear off. Do you think that would be alright?"

Cupping her face, he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Okay. I can get some towels and start some warm water running and you can clean up some."

"I'd really like to take a shower, Andy. I'm covered in dirt and grime. I'm filthy."

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're up to that? You're not supposed to use that arm, remember? In the sling as long as you're awake. You can hardly stand, babe."

She exhaled and chewed at her lower lip.

"Do you think," she nervously began. "Could you help me?"

She looked so shy in that moment.

He wasn't sure if it was the idea of sharing a shower with him and all that entailed, or simply the fact that she needed assistance. No matter her reticence, he wouldn't make it worse.

"Of course I can."

"I think I may need you to hold me," she admitted, referring to their previous conversation.

They took it very slowly, removing the sling, her ruined blouse, unbinding her ribs. Andy then got the shower started and gathered a stack of towels.

He helped her remove the rest of her clothes, peeling them away like the layers of an onion, until she stood bare before him. Andy looked only into her eyes, for which she was utterly grateful.

When they were both ready, he helped her into the shower, drew her under the stream, and simply held her.

Emerging from a dreamlike state, Sharon looked around, taking in Andy's home for the first time. She'd never seen more than the front room and kitchen, which were lovely. This though, was extraordinary. The shower was a large glass structure, the tub, enormous. The changing light of the setting sun shone through a large, fan-shaped window beside it. The vanity along the opposite wall was simple and clean. It was lovely.

She walked carefully into the adjoining bedroom, where Andy had laid out a T shirt and sweatpants. Grinning, she sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the shirt. It smelled of his laundry detergent.

Sharon got as far as slipping it over her head, then stopped. She couldn't lift her arm.

Andy reappeared with a cup of tea and her pills. Shaking his head, he set both down and turned to help her.

Once the shirt was on, he tucked her feet into the legs of the pants and helped her to stand. Then he pulled up the pants, allowing the towel around her to fall. Again, he held her.

When he felt her tremble with exhaustion, he reached for the bandage and bound her ribs again. He draped the sling about her arm, then led her back to the living room.

On the corner of the couch was a large foam wedge.

"I slept on this years ago when I took a bullet to the shoulder. Kept my torso straight while I rested. Try it."

He helped her sit and recline against the foam and heard her sigh. Taking the pillows from the opposite end he tucked them beneath her knees, then covered her with the blanket from the back of the sofa.

"There. How's that?"

"Almost perfect," she sighed.

"Almost?" he asked, kneeling in front of the sofa.

"Now it's perfect. You're beside me."

Sitting on the floor, he leaned against the sofa, an arm draped across her legs.

"And here I'll stay."

When Provenza and Rusty arrived an hour later, they found the couple in much the same position. Sharon was dozing lightly, with the aid of her latest dose of pain medication, and Andy was seated by her side.

A pair of tea cups rested on the coffee table and soft music filled the air.

"Hey, Lieutenant," Rusty softly greeted him.

He set a pair of bags in the recliner and stepped quickly toward Sharon.

"How is she?"

"She's fine," said Sharon herself.

Andy stood up and allowed Rusty to sit with her.

"Hey, Louie. How about some tea?" he said, gesturing toward the kitchen.

"Tea," he grumbled. "I don't drink tea, you moron."

"Oh hush, old man. Just wanted to give them a minute. I need to let her know about Jack. For now, she's accepting that I brought her here instead of her place, but she needs to know why. Plus, I've a good idea Ricky will show up here in a few hours. I've got the upstairs set up for the boys."

"Okay, good. I can help with the Jack conversation, the details."

Andy pulled a plastic container from the refrigerator and a pot from the cabinet.

"Yeah, okay."

He proceeded to reheat leftover soup for Sharon to eat, thinking her meds would sit better with something in her stomach.

They sat and visited quietly while she ate, and when she set the bowl aside, she turned to address them.

"What exactly is it you all are trying to avoid telling me?"

Her gaze passed over them all, the most important men in her world, minus her older son. Something heavier than the events of the day was weighing on each of them.

"I appreciate that you're all trying to not make a bad day worse, I really do. But please, just spit it out."

The trio exchanged a look, then Rusty began.

"I stopped by the condo to gather some of your things. The lieutenant was meeting me there. I was, like, five minutes ahead of him," he rushed, stumbling over his words. Shaking his head, he spat it out.

"Jack was there. He was pounding on the door, upset no one was answering. I explained you weren't home. You weren't just ignoring him. He said he heard about what happened."

"Police scanner," Provenza supplied.

"And the lieutenant showed up."

"Captain. Sharon. I explained to him that you hadn't been discharged yet, but would be soon. You were in good hands, and if he wanted to help, he was going about it the wrong way. I stuffed him into a patrol car and sent him on his way."

"Patrol?" she asked, hesitantly. "Was he drunk?" she asked, her heart sinking.

"He wasn't too far gone. No swaying or slurring. I've seen much worse, but there was no sense taking the chance. Hopefully, by having patrol drop him at home, he gave up and slept it off. Otherwise, he'd just gone in search of more."

"So, your motivation for bringing me here," she addressed Andy.

"He's persistent, Sharon. There was no need to be there, and you're in no shape to deal with him when he returns looking for you. You guys are welcome here."

To Rusty, he added, "The upstairs is ready for you, kid."

"Thanks, Lieutenant. I like your house. It's really nice," he added, as if surprised.

"Thanks, kid. You're welcome anytime. Make yourself at home. There's plenty of space upstairs. It's all yours."

Rusty approached Sharon and carefully wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm really glad you'll be okay. I'm gonna leave you grown ups to talk."

He grabbed his knapsack and duffle on his way toward the stairs.

"Okay if I grab a shower, Andy?"

"Like I said, make yourself at home," was his reply.

"I'll get out of your hair, too. Captain, I gave your building security guy my number. If Jack pops in again while you're recuperating, he'll call me first."

"I hate to ask that of you," she began.

"You didn't, Sharon. Just rest," he said, laying his hand gently atop her good shoulder.

He turned to go, calling a tired "Flynn," as he departed.

Left alone again, Andy sat at Sharon's feet, gently setting them across his lap.

"Okay?" he asked, massaging her socked feet.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"I just want to forget this day," she admitted.

"I'm afraid your ribs will make that impossible right now, Babe. Maybe we can get you comfortable enough to sleep for a while though. Sound good?"

She chuckled, without mirth.

"It does indeed. How do we manage that?"

"Well," he said, stroking the tops of her legs. "You've got your meds on board, so as I see it, you have a few options." He hoped giving her the choice would restore her precious sense of control on a day that had given her very little. "You can stay here on the couch. You can try the recliner. Iv'e found it very helpful, or you can try the bed. We'll stuff some pillows around you for support. What do you want?"

Eyes closed, she mulled over the options.

"And where are you in each of these scenarios?"

"Wherever you want," he said with a gentle squeeze to her foot.

Opening her eyes, she gave him a tired smile and stretched her better arm toward him.

"Let's try the bed," she said.

Carefully he stood and helped her to do the same.

"Good idea. Sleeping next to each other is proving to be the best medicine."

The night was somewhat long and challenging. With Sharon waking every couple of hours, Andy would help her change position, fetch her pills, and they'd sleep some more. Despite the numerous interruptions, they felt comforted by the hours spent together, talking and being held.

When morning arrived, he helped her to and from the bathroom before settling her on the couch, propped against the wedge. Covering her with a blanket, he gave her a bottle of water along with her pain pill. Then he padded to the kitchen, breakfast on the brain.

Before long, the savory aroma of omelets filled the air, along with something sweet-waffles?

Footsteps on the stairs had him pouring coffee, anticipating the need.

Not one, but two hungry young men joined him at the counter, eyes beaming gratefully at the waiting caffeine and food.

Andy smiled at Ricky, who'd arrived sometime around midnight, and nodded to the couch, where he could find his mother.

Ricky grabbed a cup of coffee and circled the sofa while Rusty took a seat at the counter.

Kissing her forehead, Ricky then knelt beside her wearing a sad smile.

"Oh, Mom."

Her eyes opened, finding her older boy.

"Ricky, what are you doing here? When did you get here?"

"My man, Andy, called me. Told me what happened and that you would be okay. No way I was staying home. Then Rusty called and explained that you guys were coming out here, and why."

"Ricky, I"

"Only need to rest and recuperate. Rusty and are fine. The upstairs is cool."

Over his shoulder, he called toward the kitchen.

"Your place is great, Andy. Thanks again for inviting me to stay, and for taking care of Mom. I get that she's practically invisible, but even superheroes need a hand occasionally."

Andy joined them, handing Sharon a plated omelet accompanied by fresh fruit.

"Thank you," she said, eyes suspiciously damp.

"Juice or tea?"

"Tea, please."

To her son, she asked, "How long do I have you?"

"I took a couple of vacation days. I'll head back Tuesday probably. Em said she'd call you today."

"Good. Thank you for coming. I feel better already. Go eat your breakfast while it's hot."

"Yup. Then, Rusty and I are hitting the market for groceries. If Andy is putting us up and all, the least we can do is handle the food bill."

"You're good boys. Thank you."

"Burgers for dinner," Andy clarified.

"Oh, dinner. Andy, Nicole!"

He put a hand on her leg and patted it through the blanket.

"I called her last night. She knows you're hurt. If you're up to it, they'll come here tonight instead. If you think it's too much, we can wait 'til next weekend."

"No," she said, covering his hand. "Don't postpone. We can go home or I can just stay in bed. I'm not going to be the reason you miss out on spending time with your kids."

"That's not what this is, Sweetheart. You wouldn't have a problem with me rearranging plans with you if she were hurt, now would you?"

"Of course not, Andy. Don't be silly."

"There you go. You rest up today. Take your meds. The pain's likely to be more intense today, and for the next few. We'll keep it iced too. That'll help as well."

"Says the voice of experience," she smiled.

"You know it. At least some good can come of it if it helps me help you."

The house was blissfully quiet while the boys were out shopping for food to replenish Andy's cupboards. Soft music filtered through the house, as if playing simultaneously in every room.

Sharon had lunch sitting in Andy's worn recliner which, thought quite the relic, was very comfortable and supportive.

He took her tray to clear away their meager lunch dishes, leaving her dozing under her blanket.

She was vaguely aware of a new, more feminine voice nearby, the addition of light and laughter pleasant to hear.

Sharon sensed she was no longer by herself and, opening her eyes to the soothing dim of lamplight, was pleased to find Nicole.

The younger woman sat on the edge of the sofa, sipping tea, a habit she'd picked up from Sharon.

"Nicole, how are you, Honey?" Her voice remained thick and coarse from sleep and from her medicine.

"Me? I'm fine. Sharon, how are you? Dad told me what happened yesterday. I'm so sorry. Is there anything you need? Can I do anything?"

Sharon spied Andy, just over Nicole's shoulder, watching them. He wore a look of such affection.

Andy loved watching the interaction between his two best girls. He was overjoyed by how well they got on. His daughter clearly admired Sharon and even found her easier to talk with than her own mother who, though a fine woman, was very set in her thinking.

"You're doing it right now, Honey," said Sharon. "Thank you for coming over. I'm glad to see you. Do you have time to sit awhile? I think your dad could use a break, but he won't admit it."

"Of course. The boys went to Anaheim with Dean. It's his aunt's birthday. They'll be back late this afternoon. I'm yours for the day."

They shared a warm smile before Sharon called to Andy.

"Over here, Lieutenant," she playfully summoned.

Andy padded across the living room, kneeling beside her chair.

"Yes, Captain?" he replied with a wink.

"I need you to do something for me, please," she said, knowing he wouldn't say no to that phrasing.

"Anything, Baby."

Extending his arm, he swept her hair behind her ear.

"Go to a meeting."

As he began to object, she continued.

"Nicole is here. I am supervised, and you need a meeting. After yesterday, you probably would have gone last night. You are taking care of me. It's almost time for my next dose. I'll probably sleep until you get back anyway. Please? I need you to take care of my friend."

He cupped her cheek, his thumb tenderly ghosting the skin there.

She covered his hand with her own, leaning into his caress.

Nicole held her breath, then looked away, so as not to intrude on their wordless communication.

Andy stood, then bent to kiss her forehead.

"Ill be back right after the meeting. I'll call to see if you girls need anything."

"No rush. I'm fine," she pressed.

"He loves you," Nicole said in awe, and watching Sharon's eyes follow Andy across the room, she could tell it was mutual.

"And he does it very well," agreed Sharon. "He hasn't left my side-feeding me, bathing.." Her eyes grew wide and her face pushed. "Sorry. Too much information."

"Not at all," said Nicole, not bothered in the least. "That's how Dad loves. He's a natural protector. Hands on. Let him love you.."

"His way. Yes, we've talked about it. I'm not very good at accepting help. I guess I'm not sure how."

"Perhaps because no one has made the effort."

Sharon's silence spoke volumes.

"Well not anymore. I'm here today and as much as you need me when Dad has to be at work. Please don't argue. It's how I love too."

Sharon sighed. How could she say no to that?

Dinner was a less than sedate affair. Ricky took over the grill. Nicole's family joined them, and her brother dropped by. Almost the entire family was present, missing only Emily.

Sharon could see in Andy's eyes the fulfillment of a dream- his large home, painstakingly refurbished by his own loving hands, filled to overflowing with people he loved.

He crossed the yard to join her on the lounger topped with her foam wedge.

She reclined against the foam and watched as Eric and Scotty ran off energy so long pent up by sitting still at their aunt's house, then dozing in the car.

Andy handed her a glass of lemonade, along with a pain pill she'd put off taking to enjoy their children.

She was wilting by the minute. Taking the pill, she smiled gratefully, and closed her eyes, relishing the gentle breeze and happy laughter.

"Why don't I get you inside? You're about to pass out."

"You can't leave your guests, Andy."

He rolled his eyes and helped her to sit up.

"Sharon, it won't take long. I'll help you shower off and change. You'll get in bed and I'll come back out to see them off. Come one, let's get you up."

She had no fight in her. Andy had been right. The pain was worse the day after.

They slowly walked past the others, Sharon offering a soft goodnight. Into the house, then the bedroom, they went. Sharon's eyes falling longingly on the bed.

Sitting on the edge, she exhaled, grimacing at the jolt of pain in her side.

"Give me just a minute," Andy said, reading her face. Quietly he slipped from the room.

True to his word, he was back in less than a minute and set to work preparing to help her shower.

He watched her, dozing against the stack of pillows. Her pills had kicked in, and the shower had helped.

Having slipped away to take a call from his partner, Andy returned to find her resting comfortably, blissfully unaware of the bothersome world outside.

Jackson had shown up at the condo again, as they'd assumed he might. This time, he was too far gone to be reasoned with. Hal, the security officer in the lobby, had notified Provenza as soon as the man was spotted loitering outside the complex. The lieutenant had made a beeline for Los Feliz, arriving just in time to find a very inebriated Jack Raydor sucker punch old Hal.

Provenza had called a patrol officer, had Raydor arrested for a drunk and disorderly and assault for roughing up the security officer. Jack could sleep it off and maybe even do little self-reflection.

Andy had spoken to Ricky, who planned to be up and out in the morning. He needed to speak with his father alone. Jackson was no longer his mother's responsibility. Andy planned to tag along.

For now, he had to get her though another uncomfortable night.

She opened her eyes and quickly closed them again. The curtains across the picture window didn't quite meet, allowing a beam of harsh light to rudely cut the semi-darkened room.

What time is it? she wondered. She extended her arm to her side, finding Andy gone and his side of the bed cold. The sun was up and Andy had been gone long enough for her to grow chilled. A moment later, she was no longer alone.

"Good morning," came the sweet soprano of Nicole. "Here, let me help you," she said, seeing Sharon pushing against the mattress.

Sitting beside her, she handed her a glass of water and pill from the nightstand. That was followed by a short note on a string, tied to another of Andy's carvings, this one a daffodil.

Sharon took her medicine and ran her fingers thought her tangled hair, then reached for her glasses.

Reading the note, she sniffed at the flower and smiled, bringing a curious look to the younger woman's face.

"Rough night?" asked Nicole, face etched with concern.

"Not too awful. I just don't stay comfortable in the same position for very long. A lot of rearranging. I'm afraid your dad isn't getting much rest."

"Believe me, Sharon. He doesn't mind, Sharon. I think he feels proud, actually, that you trust him to look after you."

Sharon smiled and showed her the note.

"There's no one I'd rather have."

Good morning, Sunshine. Have a meeting, then back home to you. I'll bring you a latte from Duncan's. I leave you to the loving care of a living angel. Take your meds. Yours, A.

"It's very quiet this morning," she said.

"Rick and Rusty are gone as well at the moment. My boys are home, probably still asleep after yesterday. Do you need anything?"

"First, the bathroom. Then, maybe we can sit on the sofa. I need to change position again."

Nicole stood and helped her rise and move to the ensuite, waiting outside the door. Spying Sharon's slipper boots and sweater, she set both nearby.

When Sharon emerged, she smiled, stepping into her boots and allowing Nicole to help her into her sweater and readjust her sling.

"I managed to run a brush through this tangled mess," she said of her hair. "But that's about it."

"Would you like for me to pull it back?" Nicole asked, retrieving the brush.

"Oh, please, if you don't mind."

When Andy and the boys returned within the hour, suspiciously together, they found the ladies sitting on the sofa, quietly talking. Sharon twirled the stem of her flower between her fingers.

Andy slipped his shoes off and made his way to her side.

"Hello, Angel," he said, bestowing a kiss to his daughters head. "And hello, Angel," he said to Sharon, pressing his lips to hers.

Coming from anyone else, his words might have caused Sharon to roll her eyes, but from Andy, the endearment was entirely sincere.

"You were up and out early," she said, curiosity lacing her words. Her eyes found her boys lingering by the kitchen counter. "All of you. What's up?"

The trio of men shared a knowing look. No one was keeping anything from her, though neither were they looking forward to the conversation. They would rather spare her.

Ricky approacher her, coffee in hand, and perched himself on the coffee table to face her.

"I had an errand this morning. Rusty and Andy insisted on tagging along," he said with no real complaint. In truth, he'd been both touched and relieved by Rusty's company and more than a bit surprised by Andy's.

Sharon felt Andy perch against the armrest and she leaned into him, turning to look up at him over her shoulder.

"Sweetheart, last night Jack was arrested for a Drunk and Disorderly at your condo."

"What?" she began, surprised and somewhat embarrassed.

"Hal spotted him hanging around just outside the lobby, and alerted Provenza as planned. When Provenza arrived, Hal had managed to subdue him, but not before Jack had gotten in a few good punches."

"He attacked Hal?" she asked, eyes wide with horror.

"He's fine. Back at his post this morning, sporting a black eye. He's a tough old guy, Sharon. I stopped by to check on him."

Ricky let that much sink in before he took over.

"After he slept it off for a while," he began, watching his mother's eyes close tightly in disappointment, "Jack called me to post his bail."

Andy placed a hand on Sharon's arm and gave the softest squeeze, reminding her he was going nowhere.

"I did not," Ricky quickly clarified. "I did sit down and speak with him. Andy and Gavin helped make that happen."

"Don't worry," Andy interjected. "I stayed outside, away from Jack."

Sharon reached up and covered his hand.

"I had some things I needed o say to him, and Rusty went along for moral support. Andy wouldn't let me go without him."

That time, Sharon turned and kissed the hand resting on her shoulder.

"I told him that when he's serious about having a relationship with us and not just pumping us for information about you or trying to hit us up for money, he can reach out to us, but you are off limits. He chose not to be a part of your life throughout your marriage, he should stay out of it now. If he really cares about you like he claims, he should respect your choices and let you be happy. I told him to find a rehab, get clean, and then," he paused. "I suggested he leave LA, find someplace smaller. Start over. Practice law to help people, not just sue fat cats for a big payday. Find some redemption. Be better."

Sharon watched her son, now a grown man, living on his own in another city, successful and independent. When did that happen?

"Oh, Ricky."

"Then Andy took Rusty and me out for coffee and gave us some insight from the addict's perspective. He's pretty terrific," he said, smiling toward the older man.

"I think so," beamed Nicole.

"So do I," agreed Sharon.

They sat for moment, sharing the silence. It was comfortable, though heavy, each lost in a wreck of memories. Each of them had experienced the darkness that was addiction in one way or another. The fear, the longing, the guilt. Each had come out the other side pieced back together, but with sometimes visible cracks.

"Richard," she said, eyes still far away. "I'm sorry you were put in that position. It's not something I ever wanted you to deal with, but you're not a boy anymore. You and Emily get to chart your journey with Jack, and I appreciate that you handled the situation the way you did. You've grown into a fine young man."

He stood, towering over her, and bent low to carefully embrace her.

"That's down to you, Mom. All you," he said

"Love you, Baby."

Ricky quietly made his way upstairs, Rusty on his heel.

"I should get going," said Nicole, feeling like she was intruding on a private moment. "I'll be here before you need to leave on Tuesday, Dad."

Sharon looked between the two.

"And just call if you need anything in the meantime, both of you," she said, her eyes landing on Sharon.

"We will, Angel," said her dad, rising to see her out.

Nicole bent to hug Sharon, who gave her a one-armed hug along with a soft Thank you, Honey.

Left alone, they shared a soft, sad smile before Andy crossed the room to join her on the sofa, carefully lifting her legs to rest in his lap.

"You okay?" he asked, his hand making long, soothing stokes up and down her leg.

She took a breath, wincing at the pain in her side.

"I am. I wish it hadn't happened, that Ricky hadn't needed to handle it. I wish his father hadn't gotten drunk and battered poor old Hal. I wish he'd been a better father in the first place. Unfortunately, wishing doesn't change any of it. I appreciate you going with him, though. Being there to talk both of my boys through the multitude of conflicting emotions surrounding their parents. For making yourself available, vulnerable, approachable. That's the kind of dad my kids deserve."

"Too bad I didn't know how when it counted."

"Andy," she implored. "Look at me. It counts. Your kids love you. They're rebuilding their relationship with you. And you've been more of a father to my three than Daniel Dunn or Jack ever made the effort to be."

"Yeah?" he asked, comforted by her words, but always reticent to trust himself completely wit his second chances.

"Oh yeah," she said, voice shaky as she finally allowed herself to absorb all her son had told her. "Trust me."

Extending her good arm, her hand met his where it rested on her thigh. Their fingers braided together as they shared a look that said more than words ever could.

V I See You

The weeks following Sharon's injury were frustrating and long. She was home, then bound to her desk. She was used to allowing Provenza to take the lead in the field. It was just the principle of being tied down.

A trio of cases pinned them down for another few weeks, resulting in too much coffee and far too little sleep. Trips home were brief and few, often only to shower and nap. Proximity had Andy doing both, more often than not, at Sharon's condo. He lived further from headquarters and with so little turnaround time, gratefully accepted the offer to spend that time resting rather than driving.

They also took comfort in spending their precious few hours away from work, together.

Riding back to work after leftovers provided by Rusty and a much-needed nap, they were hopeful they could wrap up the latest by day's end. They were promised the long July fourth weekend off, due to the hours amassed, but it hinged on putting a lid on their case.

"Say Hobbs comes in and seals the deal and ties all the paperwork up with a nice little red, white, and blue bow, how would you feel about you and the kid staying with me this weekend? I've hardly been home. You guys were planning on being there for the cookout anyway."

She look at him from the passenger seat and smiled.

"All weekend?"

"Yeah. Why not? We rest better together. Rusty's pretty much claimed the upstairs. I'm a little further out from downtown. We can have a little staycation, I think it's called. What do you say?"

It did sound nice. Despite the accident and its subsequent injury weeks ago, it had been very nice staying with Andy. His house was just breathtaking. Both she and Rusty felt at home there. It was quiet, well away from the noise and pace of downtown.

"Well, I can't speak for Rusty. He may have plans I'm unaware of but, honestly, after the past few weeks, it sounds perfect."

Exhaling a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, he grinned from ear to ear. He'd been wanting to ask her all week, but they'd been overwhelmed by day, and bone-weary by night.

They were short on quality time lately and Andy knew a weekend together would be the respite they needed.

"Let's see what we can do to wrap up a deal today, finish our paperwork tomorrow and, hopefully, enjoy a nice, long, well-deserve long weekend off. Are Nicole and Dean still coming with the boys?"

"They are, yes. I'm told the boys are especially excited to see you. I think I'm jealous," he chuckled.

She joined him. It felt nice to laugh, to look forward to something pleasant, anything other than the pervasive weight that had pressed down on them for weeks. She felt lighter already.

They exited the elevator on the ninth floor with a bit more energy, just thinking of the time off that awaited them.

"Good morning," the others greeted them, not the least bit surprised to see them arriving together.

"Good morning," she replied with more cheer than they expected.

Sharon stood near Provenza's desk, hands folded before her.

"DDA Hobbs is due to join us in just under an hour. Let's have all of our ducks in a row, shall we? I'd like this tied up by day's end, if possible. That way, tomorrow can be a paperwork day. I don't think the Chief will send us anything he doesn't have to, seeing as we're in the red on overtime, but stranger things have happened. Let's do everything we can to get out of here tomorrow and commence with our weekend."

"Here, here!" called Provenza, lifting his coffee cup in salute.

The following days were mind-blowing in their speed and activity, but with a long weekend on the horizon, they worked with renewed energy and motivation.

With the case nearly wrapped and their reports complete, Chief Taylor authorized their early release, with promises to leave them be for the next four days. None of them needed to be told twice.

They grabbed their belongings and eagerly bid each other a quick Have a great weekend before hastily taking their leave.

Andy leaned against the door to Sharon's office, smiling as he watched her sign off on reports and time sheets.

"Hey," he said softly so as not to startle her. "You hear back from Rusty?"

"I did," she said, looking up from her desk to meet his eyes. "He already has plans to sleep over at Mike's. Buzz is taking him and Kevin to a movie, then back to Mike's for the night. I imagine they'll sleep in, so he'll probably make an appearance sometime after lunch. He's excited about the rest of the weekend though."

"Good. I'm going to get out of here, catch my meeting, then home, okay?"

"Perfect. I'll meet you there."

"You have a key, in case you beat me," he winked. "Be safe. See you in a bit."

"You too," she grinned, wheels spinning.

She made a quick run through the market on the way. Pulling into Andy's driveway, she gathered her grocery bag and the duffle of clothes she'd brought for the weekend.

She let herself in and deposited the bag from the market on the counter. Heading into Andy's bedroom, she set her bag in the closet and hung up her Sunday dress. Quickly, she exchanged her black suit for yoga pants and one of Andy's T shirt. It was entirely too big, but it made her feel surrounded by his scent.

She set to work on chopping vegetables, then getting a sauce simmering. She assembled a vegetable lasagne, tossing the remaining veggies into a bowl for a salad.

By the time Andy arrived, the house was filled with the savory aromas of basil and garlic.

The scent hit him upon entering. Soft music played. Heading toward the kitchen, his voice caught in his throat. There was Sharon, dressed casually, feet bare and hair piled atop her head. She was, quire literally, breathtaking.

"You're staring," she said without looking, her voice a low, husky alto. It did something to him.

Slowly, he approached, dropping his blazer across the back of the sofa. He paused, standing behind her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently pulled her back against her chest.

"How can I not? Have you met yourself?"

He fought the desire to enfold her, bury his face in the graceful curve of her neck, and lose himself. Keeping himself in check, ever mindful of her personal boundaries, he merely pressed a kiss to the soft skin there. Soon enough, he told himself. She was well worth taking things slowly, being certain.

Sharon turned in the circle of his arms and wrapped her good arm around his neck. Pulling him closer still, she did what he was hesitant to do. She kissed him firmly, deeply, longingly, eager to show him she was opening up, trusting him with her heart, and her body.

Andy was surprised, but quickly welcomed the attention. He kept his hands a respectable distance from her backside, instead exploring her back, the soft skin of her neck, finally moving to frame her face. When they parted, he shook his head, astonished.

"That's the best welcome home I've ever received. I could get used to it. What's the occasion?"

She blushed at her own boldness and tilted her head.

"I don't know. It's been a lousy few weeks. They're behind us. We're here, safe and together. Call it a celebration of making it through. Welcome home, Andy. Dinner's about ready. Why don't you go put on something more comfortable. Then we'll eat."

He shook his head, still absorbing his welcome, then kissed the tip of her nose and slipped away.

Making his way to his closet, he smiled to see her things deposited there. He tossed his clothes into the dry-cleaning pile and donned a T shirt and lounge pants. Retuning to the kitchen, he found it empty, but following the sound of her singing along to Sarah Vaughan led him to his rarely used dining room.

It was far too large for the meager furnishings it housed. He had an idea for an addition he'd like to make to the wall, something he hoped his lady-love would like very much. He found her standing at the table, giving it a look as it trying to be sure she'd not forgotten anything. She had laid a tablecloth. There were candles lit, their flames dancing gently. The lights were dimmed and Sarah had given way to Ella.

"Sweetheart, this is terrific. Really. Thank you."

She beamed, gesturing toward a chair, then sitting in her own.

Andy's eyes took in the meal Sharon had prepared. There was a vegetable lasagna, a chunky green salad, and warm fragrant garlic bread. She had poured them each a glass of iced tea, and there was something sweet baking. Chocolate, if he didn't miss his guess.

They enjoyed the meal, easy conversation, and gentle touches. Sharon had heard from her older children, and enjoyed sharing their escapades who Andy. They laughed at the silly jokes his grandson, Scotty, had told him over the phone. It felt good to laugh, a much-needed release.

For dessert and coffee, they moved to the sofa.

"It's nothing too fancy, just a chocolate pie my grandmother used to make. I whipped up some cream for the top and I sprinkled a little cinnamon there too. It's really good warm so eat up," she said with a nervous grin.

He seemed to genuinely enjoy the lasagne, but Sharon was most eager to share her favorite dessert with him. It evoked fond memories of her youth, stories she very much hoped to share with Andy.

He took a bite of the still warm pie with its gooey center and sweet cream topping and hummed in pure pleasure.

"Oh man," he said, licking his lips. "I've never tasted anything so good."

"Really? You like it?" she sang, eyes dancing.

"Sharon, this is amazing. Has Rusty had this? Holy cow, it's delicious," he said, scooping up another bite.

"He has not, no. I haven't made it in years."

"Boy, did he pick the wrong night to miss dinner. I'm glad to have you all to myself though. You, me, and the pie."

Andy disappeared when Sharon's phone rang. Though she promised to keep it short, he encouraged her to take her time talking with her daughter. By the time she ended the call, he was ready.

"Babe, you made this sensational dinner just to celebrate surviving the last few weeks, to celebrate our being together. I wanted to do something for you in return. So, while I clean up after supper, a bath awaits you. Take you time, as long as you like. I'll meet you here on the sofa for a snuggle and a movie. Sound good?"

She smiled, tilted her head, and gave him a look which seemed to say she found him unbelievable kind. Kissing him lightly and hugging him briefly, she nodded and turned toward the bedroom.

She fetched her nightclothes and stepped into the ensuite.

He had dimmed the lights, lit candles, and sweetened her bath with soothing, fragrant oils. Music played softly and, the large window next the the tub had been replaced. Now, there was a pane of stained glass, vibrant colors tinting the room in a rainbow of light.

"Oh," she exhaled, taking it in. It was positively serene.

He made quick work of the dinner dishes before setting himself on the sofa. He pulled a blanket from the back and draped it across his lap.

When Sharon rejoined him, clad only in his T shirt, Andy lifted the edge of the blanket in silent invitation.

"Andy," she said as she curled into his side. "Thank you. The music, the bath, the candles. Andy, the window."

"You liked it? You're always so, I don't know, hypnotized by them in church. You get this look. Very peaceful. I want you to wear that look more often."

Tears pooled in her eyes. It wasn't just that he thought of her, did something special. He noticed everything.

"Andy, thank you. For seeing me."

He got it, and it broke his heart a little. Had Jack seen her, really? Had he ever even looked?

"See you? Sweetheart, I can't look away."

By tacit agreement, they decided to forgo the movie in favor of more pleasurable pursuits. Making out like teenagers on Andy's sofa was better than any average romcom.

Always letting Sharon take the lead, allowing her to set the pace and draw the boundary line, they kissed and touched, exploring one another as much as they dared. Then, they went to bed, completely at peace, resting in the arms of the one who truly saw them.

They stirred before the sun was up, having enjoyed a full night's sleep for the first time in nearly a month.

Sharon rolled to face him, the fog of heavy sleep still upon him, hair sticking up like a little boy. He was so dear, listening, watching, following her, so keen to know her on every possible level. It was an unfamiliar feeling, being loved quite so well. She could only hope to make him feel that kind love in return. She did love him, of that she was certain.

Leaning close, she pressed her lips firmly against his.

He came fully awake in an instant, arms encircling her, traveling the length of her spine. Pouring every ounce of himself into that kiss, his body awake as well, temperature rising, muscles throbbing.

Suddenly, his head dropped to rest against her chest. He willed himself to slow his heart, his breathing.

"Andy? Honey what's wrong?"

Sharon cradled his head, raising it to look into his eyes.

"Honey, what is it?"

Her thoughts were a jumble, a perfect moment brought to an abrupt halt.

"Sharon. I'm sorry, but if I don't stop, I won't be able to."

Smiling, she studied him. He'd been so patient, never pushing, always careful.

"Then don't."

His breath caught.

"Andy, I started it. I kissed you. Don't stop."

He reached up, covering one of her hands with his own.

"Sharon, you wanted to wait. To be sure," lifting her hand, kissing the inside of her wrist.

"We did, and I am. Andy," she breathed deeply. "Make love to me."

It didn't happen as either had imagined. He didn't take her out for a romantic dinner. She didn't pick the perfect dress. There was no in-depth talk about how to proceed. It simply happened. It was unplanned. It was precious. It was perfect. There was no concern over comparisons or aging. They looked, tasted, and touched with honest awe and admiration. And utter love.

When they finally rose for the day, Andy saw to breakfast while Sharon showered and dressed.

She didn't linger under the steaming spray, eager to help with preparations for their guests.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she dressed and slipped on her shoes before separating the drapes on the picture window.

Looking out into the yard, she found a large hole in the ground. The pool. Clearly, he was serious about that.

He found her there, gazing out of the window, relishing the warmth of the sun against her face.

"Nice view," he said, announcing his presence. "Or it could be. I've been thinking of taking out that window and replacing it with French doors. You know, walk right out of the room. Put in a little table and chairs, plant some flowers."

"Kind of like my balcony. My little oasis of nature just outside my door."

"Yeah. Something like that." Exactly like that.

"I didn't realize they'd already dug the hole for the pool. I wasn't sure you'd made up your mind."

"Yeah. I decided the idea of Eric and Scott splashing around was too nice to pass up. Not to mention the image of you in a bathing suit. Maybe you'll all spend more weekends here," or forever, he thought. "May even be done by Labor Day."

"Oh that would be fun," she said, sharing his enthusiasm. An avid swimmer, she would have yet another reason to spend time in his marvelous home.

"Swim parties for family and friends by day, and quiet time just for us by night. I can picture it now."

"I'm sure you can," she grinned. "Now, can we please eat? We need to make the grocery run and you still have to shower."

"Aye Aye, Captain," he said, kissing her nose.

They made it through the market in record time. Neither liked to dawdle. With their items purchased and organized on the countertops, they briefly reviewed what needed to be done before their guests arrived. There wasn't much.

The house was spotless, the grill set up and clean. Snacks were laid out and the meat was ready to be tossed on the fire.

Nicole and her bunch, along with Provenza, were due in half an hour. Everything appeared to be ready.

With their set up complete, they enjoyed a few moments of peace before the noise and activity began.

Andy leaned against the countertop, Sharon tucked snugly into him. He had one arm wrapped low around her waist, his other hand cradling her face. They shared soft, lingering kisses and less than innocent touches. Neither had a care for anything other than the current moment. A phone sounded form across the room, a noise was heard from outside. They ignored it all, lost in one another.

"Thank you, Andy. This morning was perfect," she said in between kisses. "Not at all how I might have planned our first time together, but better than my wildest dreams."

He held her impossibly close, his lips tracing her cheek, the shell of her ear, her hair.

"I would have waited a lifetime. It was worth waiting for."

He pulled back to meet her gaze.

"You are worth waiting for."

Soon, they were lost in each other again.

"Um, hello?"

Nicole waited outside the kitchen having inadvertently overheard a conversation definitely not meant for her ears. She had texted, knocked on the door leading to the kitchen from the carport. She'd not meant to intrude, but didn't want to interrupt or bother. Stuck, she simply waited for a break in the conversation. First time? Really? A full year of friendship, then another nine months or so of officially dating. When they swore they were just good friends, apparently they meant it. It made her smile. That's really beautiful, she thought to herself.

Andy and Sharon paused, then broke their kiss, but not their embrace.

"Nic?" said her father. "Come in, Angel."

The young woman stepped into the kitchen, a dish in hand.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I tried to reach you, let you know we were coming a little early. We left home ahead of schedule because of the holiday traffic, but it was smoother than we thought. I hope it's okay. Dean and the boys took the cooler to the back yard."

"Not a problem at all," said Andy, crossing the kitchen to kiss her cheek and take her dish. I'll run out back and get the fire going. You two beauties catch up."

He disappeared through the back door, eager to see his boys.

"Hi, Sweetheart," Sharon said, meeting her halfway with open arms. "I'm glad you're here. I've missed you."

Nicole held her close, relishing the warmth and welcome found in those arms. Sharon was innately maternal and made you want to know her more.

"I've missed you too. You guys have been busy lately."

Sharon released her and rolled her eyes in agreement.

"Your dad's been looking forward to this afternoon all week."

"So have I," admitted Nicole. "We feel at home here."

Sharon grinned, considering her words.

"So do I."

Nicole leaned on the countertop and tilted her head. She'd always found Sharon easy to talk to.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Sharon?"

The older woman paused. She then poured iced tea into a pair of glasses, handed one to Nicole, and sat at the bar top with her own.

"Okay, shoot," she offered, wondering it if was a subject she'd be comfortable talking about.

"If I'm out of line, I'm sorry. Just tell me. Something you said a few weeks ago just stuck with me. It kind of goes against some of what I've been told. You mentioned self-destructive behavior following particularly difficult cases at work. Were you referring to Dad's drinking?"

Sharon took a sip of her tea, allowing it to cool her throat as she thought of how best to answer the question without breaking a confidence.

"Yes and no," she said. "Your father's story is his to tell, Nicole, not mine. What I can say is that the things we've seen over the years," she paused. "Did you know that more than a quarter of police officers admit to using alcohol to deal with the effects of the job? One study stated as many as thirty-seven percent. When you see the victims of murder and rape and drug deals gone horribly wrong, it does something to you. Eats away at your own humanity," she said with a faraway look in her eyes. "You don't want to take that evil home with you where it can eat away at your family, touch your children. If you think you can shut off the horror show playing in your mind like a never-ending reel, even for an hour, you try. A drink, drugs, sex, anything that takes you away from it. Of course, it finds you again. It doesn't really go anywhere. It's just hiding, waiting to jump out and scare you when you least expect it."

Nicole slid her hand along the counter until she could touch the woman's hand.

"How do you deal with it?" she asked, hoping she wasn't further overstepping.

"Well, you have to remember I was removed from a lot of that for many years. I took a position in Internal Affairs, away from that so that I could be home for my kids when they were small. Jack was gone by the time Ricky was only one," she said, noticing Nicole blanche. "I was all they had. It wasn't the career I'd envisioned, by a long shot, but it served us well. Moving to Major Crimes was a huge adjustment." She sighed. "Oh, I go to Mass. That's always drawn me back to the center when the world has pulled me off course. A nice warm soak in the tub helps too," she said, eyes sparkling.

"So alcohol never tempted you?"

Sharon set her glass down and fully faced her.

"I enjoy a glass of wine at the end of a hard day, yes. But having lived with an addict, all be it more out than in my marriage, I was well aware of the risks. I was all my kids had. When the kids were small, it was them and work. There was no time for anything else. Now, there's no need."

"And it doesn't concern you? Building a life with another addict?"

Sharon squeezed the young woman's hand and smiled. It was an understandable question.

"It might have in the beginning. But here's the thing. If I couldn't trust Andy with his sobriety, I couldn't have him working with me, or at the LAPD at all," she shrugged. "He's been sober for over twenty years, Nicole. He's not new at it anymore. That doesn't mean he doesn't still work at it all the time. Just a few years ago, he was at an intersection where a young girl on a motor scooter was run down right in front of him. I mean, she literally bounced off of his car. He got out and stayed with her, talked with her while they waited for the ambulance. She died holding his hand. It was just awful. It stayed with him for a while. She reminded him of you. I think he went to a meeting every night for two solid weeks. But he didn't drink. He did what he had to do to take care of himself, so he could continue to take care of his relationships."

Nicole sat listening with tears in her eyes.

"How does he deal with it all now?" she asked through her tears. Her voice was tight and thick with emotion.

Sharon watched her and her own heart hurt. Leaning forward, she swiped away the tears with the pads of her thumbs.

"He's learned some coping exercises through his program, as well as the counselors we're required to see following certain police actions. We complain about that requirement, but the sessions can be really helpful if you let them. He goes to church and his meetings. We also talk a lot of things out together. It's one of the things that distinguishes our relationship from my marriage to Jack. It's also how we grew to know one another and it's probably the thing I cherish most about our relationship."

"I don't doubt that at all. Just one look at the two of you and anyone can tell you're the best of friends. I can see now, you guys were totally telling the truth about that."

"We were. When you've been hurt as badly as we both have, it's really hard to tear down the walls you've built to protect yourself from it ever happening again."

Nicole's gaze fell to their joined hands, a heavier thought taking hold. All of those difficult years, the days when she couldn't see her father, when they were kept apart by his addiction or her mother's insistence, she was so hurt. So was her brother. Even after he'd had several months of consistent sobriety under his belt, he wasn't allowed contact with them. She hadn't known that until years later. So many things they'd been told, lies fed to them by their mother, so angry that he would get himself together for his children but, after all the seeds of deceit planted, had no interest in groveling to her.

"What is is, Honey?"

Nicole looked up at her with eyes filled with regret.

"I guess with all we lost out on with Dad gone and all of Mom's anger and our confusion," she sniffed, "it was easy to forget how much he was hurting too. I mean, there's a reason someone picks up a bottle and drinks to excess, you know?"

Sharon nodded, feeling the weight of her sadness. "Oh, I do." She gathered Nicole's other hand and cradled them both in hers, keeping her weaker arm close to her side. "I've known your father for many years, Nicole. Through my work in IA, we've dealt with each other on a professional level and I'll let him tell you what he chooses about those days. I will tell you that the man I met thirty years ago is not who your dad is today. He was a very unhappy man with no one to help him carry his burdens. He was, however, one of the most upstanding officers on the force, no matter what was going on in his personal life, and he still is. There is no one better to have at my side when dealing with the families of victims. He's a natural with children, as you've seen with your boys."

Nicole smiled through her tears.

"It takes a special kind of man to do what he does better than most, but it can come at a cost."

"Thank you for sharing that with me, Sharon. I love him so much," she said. "And I love you, too."

Wrapping her stronger arm around her and pulling her near, Sharon cooed in her ear, "Oh, I love you too, Honey."

It was that scene on which Andy walked, and it took his breath away. Reconnecting with his little girl, even as a grown woman, was a dream he'd never given up on. Finding love again at this late stage of his life was a dream he'd never even dared. Yet, here they were, they two most important women in his world. How he'd managed to win their hearts and their trust, he'd never know. That they loved each other, well, that was just the icing on the cake.

"You ladies okay in here?" he asked as he ventured into the kitchen for the rest of what he needed for lunch.

"Better than ever, Dad," said his daughter.

He kissed the top of her head before turning to Sharon, who added her own, "You heard her. Better than ever."

The remainder of their long weekend was filled with the laughter of little boys, the insincere grumbling of Provenza, who was as delighted by the antics of Eric and Scotty as was Andy, and plenty of family time. Rusty joined them in time for lunch, as did Andy's son, who made a surprise visit.

All were surprised by the very large hole in the ground, which ran the length of the backyard.

"I didn't know you were putting in a pool, Flynn," said his partner. "What gives?"

"Well, the boys love to swim, along with their parents. Sharon does too. I thought it would make a nice addition to the property. It'll only add to the value down the line, if I ever wanted to sell."

"You'd better not," said Sharon. "This is the most beautiful house I've ever seen, Andy Flynn. Every time I turn around, there's something I discover I've completely missed before."

She sat on the end of the lounger, enjoying her iced tea in the shade of the trees. Andy and his son were walking about the yard, seemingly discussing the changes he was making. Sharon looked on, hoping the pleasant ease of their conversation so far would last the afternoon.

Provenza, too, kept a watchful eye on the pair, knowing the troubled past they shared. Apparently the sister had made a call and laid it on thick. Whatever she had said had gotten her brother to show up. He hadn't seen his old friend quite so happy in some time. With any luck, they could build on that. It was about time Flynn's hard work paid off.

VI Love is an Action Verb

All too soon their four-day staycation came to an end and they had to face the real world once more. Time away, time spent at ease, time with dear ones, and time spent healing new wounds and old meant they were strong enough to take on whatever LA was bent on throwing at them.

What it threw at them was a curve ball in the form of a confession they now had to investigate to corroborate. Charles Blanchard had walked up to the desk sergeant downstairs, introduced himself, and told him of the woman he'd killed a decade prior. As frustrating as that was, it wasn't the biggest problem. No, that was Blanchard himself. An attorney by trade, he chose to represent himself and though he'd marched right in and confessed, he would put nothing in writing. It appeared he wanted to play games with them. It wan't enough to confess. They couldn't even do anything with him without a body, without a shred of evidence, and he knew it.

Tao got to digging, using every search engine available. There was, indeed, a Linda Blanchard who had disappeared off the face of the earth at the time in question. It was an open, but cold case, run through the former Priority Homicide. Sharon ordered the files brought up from Archives and the team got to work. Andy put in a request for a search warrant for properties owned, rented, or leased by Mr. Blanchard, as well as for his financial records. GPR was requested and the team did what the team did best. They investigated better than anyone else.

Well after midnight on the third day, in the wee, small hours, the remains of Linda Blanchard were discovered. Literally unearthed. Three properties were searched, almost simultaneously, but it wasn't until the GPR unit was employed at the residence of Charles Blanchard that his wife, dead for more than ten years, was found, her final resting place just beneath her previous one. In death, she lie buried beneath the bed where she had slept in life. Under three feet of cement, she'd been hidden, a new floor laid over the top in a remodel, all traced by an obscure receipt, almost overlooked by them all.

No one was more surprised by their success than Charles Blanchard.

With the upcoming Labor Day holiday, they had another surprise. Always mindful of the overtime budget, Chief Pope sent them all home until Tuesday, barring anything Robbery-Homicide couldn't handle. Their traditional form of celebration, a round of drinks at the cop bar down the street, was tabled due to their previously planned bar b q at Andy's the coming weekend. And so, they made short work of closing out their case, and commenced with their early dismissal.

Andy knocked lightly against the frame of her door, smiling when she looked up to find him standing at the entrance to her office.

"Hi, almost done," she said.

"Good. We wrapped it up just in time, huh? I was starting to sweat that one."

To that, she simply nodded in agreement.

"I have my bag in the car, but I do need to swing by the dry cleaner's to pick up my dress for Sunday," she said. "It shouldn't take too long. I can still get dinner started before it gets too late."

"Don't worry about it. I got your dress when I picked up my suit this morning. It was hanging on the rack near the front. I recognized it. It's one of my favorites. And as far as dinner, I can get that going while you soak in the tub. You've been going 'round the clock, Sharon. Take a night off, Babe."

She studied him. He had been working the same schedule as she had the past several days, worse, in fact. He'd been in the field while she'd been running things from the office.

"Andy, you're every bit as tired as I am."

He leaned in closer. "And I get to sleep next to you all weekend, so all will be well."

She really wasn't sure what to do with him when he said things like that. Her grandmother used to say Love is an action verb. Andy Flynn was showing that to be entirely true.

She followed him to his place and pulled in alongside his car. He took both her weekend bag and her dry cleaning and went before her to deposit both in the bedroom while she put the kettle on for tea.

Taking out the ingredients for dinner, she began to hum, thinking of the long weekend to come. It had been years, truly, since she'd looked forward to her time away from work for any reason other than time to rest or catch up on housework. There were the occasional visits from her children, but those were few and far between. Having someone to spend her downtime with was novel. Yes, there was Rusty, and he was wonderful, but a mate, a partner, was something else entirely.

Andy returned several minutes later to find her lost in her thoughts.

"Bath's ready, Sweetheart. Take your time. I'll get dinner going."

She turned to find he had changed into a pair of cotton lounge pants and an old LAPD T shirt. She could just imagine how soft it was after years of wear and wash. As she walked past him, she gave into the need to know, and wrapped her arms around his waist, inhaling the scent of him at the same time.

"It is soft, just as I thought."

He chuckled. "I put another one out on the bed, for you."

Oh, he knew her well.

Rising on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss to his lips, then flitted down the hall, the heaviness of the previous week, melting away with each step.

Andy sprang into action.

Sharon padded into Andy's bedroom and found, as promised, an old, worn LAPD T shirt waiting on the bed, along with a pair of pajama pants she'd left there during her last long weekend stay. Grabbing both, along with her bag, she stepped into the ensuite and gasped.

Once again, a rainbow of light filled the room with color and the tub was filled with fragrant suds. Candles glowed from every surface and the soft music of a piano sang. Floating on the water were rose petals. My goodness, she thought. What a romantic he was.

Andy had made an actual list that morning over coffee, just to make sure he had everything organized. He knew Sharon enjoyed a long soak when she actually got the opportunity. His entire plan hinged, of course, on their solving the case and getting out of the office. They had and they were home. His plan was a go.

Dinner, already whipped up, was put into the oven. Outside, a table and chairs were set. He quickly added the tablecloth and place settings. The lighting, which he'd learned were called fairy lights were turned on. He and his son had spent a couple of pleasant hours hanging them the previous week. He hoped Sharon would see in them the stars she loved so much over Griffith Park. These reflected well off of the newly completed pool, and made the whole yard come to life. The amber light that glowed from large bricks of limestone created an illuminated path from the steps of the pool to the new French doors leading to Andy's room. Still more lined the tall cedar privacy fence surrounding the property, transforming it from an ordinary backyard to a paradise.

Sharon reluctantly left her bath, her skin sweetened with the fragrance of gardenias and roses. Donning her T shirt and cotton pants, she chose to leave her curls pinned atop her head, save for the stubborn tendrils which had escaped their combs. Face scrubbed free of make up, she turned to join Andy for dinner, only to notice the heavy curtains of the picture window drawn.

The window was no longer there. In its place was a pair of French doors, opened in invitation.

Beyond the open door, the music continued to play and warm, golden light beckoned.

Stuffing her feet into her slippers, she followed the lights and the music out into a yard she scarcely recognized.

Sharon froze, her hand rising to her lips. Oh. It was extraordinary, like something out of an architectural magazine. Her eyes panned the yard, attempting to take it all in. The pool was complete. She was aware or that. They were hosting Scotty's birthday party along with the cookout over the weekend.

There was a water feature at one end, stairs at the other. There was large rocks of stone all around the lawn that glowed from their center with a golden light. Overhead, were stars, or so it seemed. Almost close enough to touch. Then, her eyes found him.

He could have been dressed in a tux and tails. There he was, dressed in his pajamas, just like her. Why then, did it feel a bit like Prom night?

"Andy, I don't know what to say. This is absolutely extraordinary, like something I've only seen in the books on my coffee table. How did you accomplish all of this?"

"I had some help," he said, as if it was nothing. "Do you really like it?"

"Andy, this is every woman's dream," she said, still looking around.

"As long as it's yours," he said under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked, turning back to him.

He pulled her close and kissed her cheek. "I'm glad you like it."

He led her to the table, set for two, and held her chair out for her.

"Mother Flynn taught you well," she chuckled. "Thank you," she added as she took her seat.

Settling in her chair, she took in the table and noticed the vase in the center. It held a a flower. A gardenia, carved of wood. Maple, perhaps. Andy.

He took the seat beside her and proceeded to serve her a meal she had trouble believing had been prepared in such a short time.

They ate and talked and laughed. They shared smiles that grew and kisses that lingered before stepping away from the table to enjoy dance after dance. Being a fan of the Great American Songbook, Andy made sure they were serenaded by Ella, Sarah, Dino, and Frank all evening long.

Sharon insisted on helping to clear away the remnant of their supper. After all, he'd prepared it. So, she took care of their meager dishes while he carefully saved their leftovers- eggplant parm was finicky, he said, and they made short work of the kitchen. All the while, she smiled.

"You like this song?" he asked, pleased to the see the look of total contentment on her face. "I do too."

He sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms low around her waist, and began to sway from side to side, singing along in a low gravelled baritone.

"I'll love you 'til the bluebells forget to bloom. I'll love you 'til the clover has lost its perfume. And I'll love you 'til the poets run out of rhyme. Until the twelfth of never and that's a long, long time."

He heard her sniff, and bent to kiss her cheek. Turning her in his arms, he gathered her in close with one arm, and with the other, drew her hand to rest over his heart. Studying her face, bright with tears, he leaned his forehead against hers and simply enjoyed the gift of them.

When they finally made their way to bed, the house locked up, lights and music off, they curled together spoon-style in the silence of his room.

"I wasn't thinking about the song earlier. In the kitchen, I mean. When you asked me if I liked the song? I do, by the way, very much, even more now. I'll never hear it again without thinking of dancing with you in your kitchen. But that isn't what I was thinking about at the time."

Tucked snugly against her back, his chin perched on her shoulder, he breathed in the scent of her.

"Well, you were smiling. So it couldn't have been bad," he said, voice husky and tired. He waited, assuming she would fill him in, since she'd brought it up. If not, well, Sharon took her time with things, and that was fine. It was how she worked.

"I was thinking, as we were working side by side in the kitchen, just how wonderful that felt."

He thought about that. "Doing dishes?"

She chuckled against him. "Yes. Doing dishes and putting up leftovers, wiping down countertops. Everyday, mundane household chores. The ones I've done everyday for more than thirty years. Alone."

Ah, he thought, and tugged her closer still.

"I was thinking just how wonderful it is to feel like I have a partner again. None of that was hard, but doing it at the end of a long day spent dealing with people who resent you and the work you do, then coming home to homework and teenage attitudes," she sighed. "There was never anyone to share it with. To share anything with. Of all the things I missed, not having a mate, it was the sharing. The everyday stuff, you know. Knowing someone has your back, looks forward to being with you at the end of the day, someone who wants to do life with you."

"Someone who knows you're perfectly capable of doing it all on your own, but knows you're not meant to, because that's what partners do."

Andy felt her take a deep breath, felt her lungs expand and retract against his chest. He could feel the air rattle a bit as though accompanied by something else, something like acceptance.

"Yeah," she said, tightening her hold on his hand, drawing it up to rest over her heart. "Yeah."

Friday was as domestic a day as they'd ever spent together. They allowed themselves a delicious extra hour or two in bed before making breakfast together. They then made a detailed grocery list for the party Andy was hosting the following day. Both his family and a few members of the team would be converging on his home for a celebration of both Labor Day and Scotty's birthday.

With their list made, the market was a breeze, if rather crowded. There were others from Andy's neighborhood, gathering what they needed for their own weekend, as well as a few folks from work who lived on that end of the city. It was always an interesting experience, seeing coworkers outside of the office environment, dressed in street clothes, doing the everyday with their families. It humanized them, and that was a good thing.

Sharon smiled at one of the officers who worked in security on the first floor. She almost didn't recognize him in gym shorts and a T shirt, a grocery cart with a toddler up front. She offered him a friendly wave as she passed him in the produce aisle, but wasn't surprised when he didn't return it. Andy, however, was.

"Don't worry about it," she said when he took offense on her behalf. "For some reason, it's my fault he's stuck on the first floor, even though I haven't worked in IA for more than five years now. It couldn't have anything at all to do with the fact he's as thick as a brick," she said softly, causing him to bark with laughter. "Seriously, how he passed the entrance exam to the Academy, I'll never know," she said, giggling. "A brick, I tell you."

They laughed together up and down the aisles of the store, having far more fun grocery shopping than either ever did alone. Having a partner in the everyday was, indeed, wonderful.

They didn't, however, see everyone who saw them. There was one who watched them from the time he spotted them to the time they departed. Their happiness was not a pleasure to see. No. It left him fuming.

Andy's kitchen was full of activity. He mixed a marinade which then was applied to chicken. She combined several ingredients in a large mixing bowl before pouring it all into a fluted bundt pan for baking. In between tasks, they would come together, dancing to the music that always seemed to float through the entire house. Today was classic rock from the eighties. They felt light and silly and carefree. If only Provenza could see them, they thought, laughing even harder.

With all of their prep work done for the following day's get together, they took advantage of the rare, quiet afternoon. They spent a lazy hour in the pool, followed by that rarest of events- a nap.

Later that afternoon, they dined on leftover eggplant parm and fresh bread from the oven before curling up on the sofa to watch an old movie.

"Oh, this one always makes me cry," she warned, snuggling into his side.

"The great ones always do," he said, assuring her. "When she tells him 'If you can paint, I can walk,' even I lose it, every time. So consider yourself warned, Lady."

"Okay. My tissue is your tissue."

Aided by their afternoon nap, they both managed to last long enough to see the movie through to its tearful end before shutting off the television and turning on the house alarm. They then trudged off to bed, arm in arm.

Saturday morning found them back in the kitchen, Sharon slicing fruit and keeping an eye on the oatmeal while Andy ground beans for coffee. They navigated the kitchen with ease, exchanging kisses each time they passed one another and smiles as they worked.

"You are right, you know," he said. "As usual. This is much nicer with a partner."

Their guests were due at noon, and Nicole was arriving at eleven as she was insistent on helping set up for the party. It was, at least in part, for her boy. She should help.

When she arrived, however, there really wasn't much for her to do.

Meat sizzled on the grill, filling the air with rich, savory aromas. Balloons danced in the breeze, tied up all around the yard. A long table, covered with a crisp white cloth and topped with little figurines of Pete the Policeman, Scotty's current obsession, largely inspired by his hero-Grandpa Andy.

Sharon's bundt cake sat on one end, and on the other, a large bowl waiting to be filled with the punch that was chilling in the refrigerator. There was a platter of cookies and a basket of plastic police badges for Scotty and his friends.

"Sharon, Dad. This is amazing. I knew this pool was finished, but this. The rest of it," she said, looking around at the custom landscaping. "I had no idea you had anything like this planned."

"Nor did I," said Sharon, setting out a platter of chips and dips.

"The lawn furniture, the water feature, the limestone blocks," said Nicole. "I assume that's lighting. This will definitely increase your property value. You're not looking to sell, are you?"

"He'd better not," said Sharon, working on the table.

Andy grinned to himself.

"Wait until you see the stars," Sharon said, a dreamy look on her face.

"Stars?" asked Nicole, to which Sharon simply looked up. Nicole followed her gaze and found the fairy lights strung high over head, just waiting for nightfall, when they would spring to life and work their magic.

"When the sun goes down and they light up, it is so perfect and romantic out here," said Sharon. "He has the sound system wired to play out here as well. Ideal for dancing under the stars."

Nicole watched her in fascination, then looked at her father, stunned at the change in him.

"I'm not done either. Along the privacy fence, I'm planting flowers. Hibiscus and petunias do well nearly year-round in these parts. Sharon calls it Paradise and you can't have Paradise without flowers," he said quite plainly.

Nicole eyed him in wonder. She strolled around the backyard, setting down the items she'd brought to contribute to lunch.

"What about this space?" she asked of a mid-sized area made of the same limestone, connected to the path around the pool. Nestled in the shade of the trees, it was in the basic shape of a circle, but cut rustically for a more natural look. There were lanterns strategically placed around it.

Andy smiled, rather proud of himself, as Sharon had already shown her delight for that area.

"That's for the dancing under the stars," he said, winking at Sharon over his daughter's shoulder.

Soon they were joined by Dean and the boys, as well as Andy's son and, of course, Rusty. Julio, Amy, and Buzz stopped by as well, though Mike already had plans with his family.

With the party underway, the team enjoyed lunch around the table, everyone relieved to be away from the office, spending time together as friends. They told stories most everyone had heard before, lighter tales of cases that didn't carry the weight of those of the past few weeks, the ones that reminded them all that it wasn't all death and destruction.

Nicole and Dean looked on as Sharon sat on the ground with their boys, listening to their silly knock-knock jokes and cheerful banter, making them laugh in turn.

After a leisurely lunch, the team helped to clear away their mess before Scotty's friends arrived for his birthday celebration. There wasn't much to do. Paper plates and cups were tossed so the trash could be taken to the curb. The cooler of beer supplied by Julio would leave with him as well. He and Amy were joining other friends at the beach that evening for continued celebrations.

"Knock, knock!" was heard at the side gate, a familiar sing-song voice, high and nasal, and quite uninvited.

"Mom?" asked Nicole, her stomach suddenly tightening. "We're supposed to celebrate with them tomorrow. We deliberately kept the parties separate," she explained to Sharon and Andy. "Dad you know she tries to push your buttons."

"It's okay, Angel. She's their grandmother. Invite her in. Offer her a plate."

"He's right, Nicole," said Sharon. "It'll be fine. For the boys."

Nicole turned toward the gate, where her husband had already intercepted his in-laws, slowing their progress into the yard. Turning back to her father, she took a deep breath, then let it out through pursed lips, frowning. Clearly, she had her doubts.

"Okay. If you say so," she said, then turned to greet her mother and step-father.

Andy turned his back on them, leaned against the picnic table, and took a deep, cleansing breath of his own to steady himself. He felt her hand on his back.

"You can do this. For Nicole and Jeff, and for those boys. She's just waiting for you to lose it. It's why she just showed up uninvited. Don't give her the satisfaction. Every time you feel the pressure rise, just find me. Look for me, and I'll be there. Promise."

"No more perfect weekend," he lamented.

"Well, maybe. Doesn't mean our day can't have the perfect ending," she husked in his ear. "Go on. Make your kids proud, and drive Sandra crazy."

Nicole and her mother stepped further into the yard, her step-father, Arthur, behind them. Neither carried a gift for the birthday boy.

Sandra's eyes scanned the lawn with interest. She had never been to her former husband's home. Andy's limited visitation had been handled by him. That's not to say she'd never driven by. No, she'd always maintained an interest in Andy Flynn, one that had little to do with the welfare of their shared children. One that, if Arthur knew, would put quite the dent in their marriage. She was most unhappy to discover that he was still involved with the woman from his office. She was certain it would have ended long before now, but that was apparently not the case.

The front of his home had been given quite the facelift, she'd noticed. It was large home, with far more space than one man would ever need. His reasoning, according to what he'd told his daughter, was that he'd always hoped they would come to spend time there. While that had never happened, he'd never been able to give up on the dream. Now, his large, lonely old home had a fresh new look, including lighting and landscaping, along with extensive exterior work. Now, she was getting her first ever look at his backyard which, she had to admit, was breathtaking, something she never expected. Her ex-husband was always good with his hands, working with wood, and that work was on display here on the lawn. It was stunning.

Andy made his way to the sink dropped into the counter of the small outdoor kitchen and quickly washed his hands. He turned just in time to greet their uninvited guests.

"Art," he said, offering his hand. "How are you? Come on over. We're just putting lunch away, but I can still make you a plate, if you like. Sandra, can I get you something?"

Art recovered quickly and smiled, accepting Andy's handshake. Sandra was completely taken aback.

"Go ahead, take a seat. The boys are over in the corner. Rusty got Scott a beginner's chess set and is trying to teach him the rules. You'll want to visit with them before the other kids get here and start splashing around in the pool," he said, chuckling.

Andy plated up a couple of burgers and set them on the table, smiling when Sharon approached the table with the tray of vegetables and condiments. When her eyes found his and her smile too, he nodded. It would be okay.

The team took their leave, caution on their faces. Provenza stuck around, used to running interference between the Flynns. He kept a watchful eye on the former Mrs. Flynn. She was known to cause a show far more entertaining than anything that waited on his television at home.

Arthur took his plate and sat by the boys, watching their chess game with genuine interest. A nice enough guy, he had taken an instant liking to Nicole's new stepsons. He didn't understand their game, but was entertained nonetheless.

Sandra neither ate, nor interacted with the boys. Instead, she was far more riveted by the interplay between her former husband and his new companion. No matter where they were on the lawn, no matter what they were up to, their eyes seemed to find each other. Like magnets, they were drawn. The small smiles, the gentle reassurances, the wordless communication. This was no simple fling.

Half a dozen six and seven year olds arrived and soon happy children were splashing and playing in the water, Rusty, Jeff, and Dean right in the thick of it with them. Art sat in the shade visiting with Provenza. Nicole gave up trying to engage her mother, and instead, got to work on the cake and ice cream for the kids.

Seeing her working by herself, Sharon stepped into help.

Andy was down on all fours, staking a disposable vinyl tablecloth to the grass for the children to sit on while enjoying their cake and ice cream in the shade.

"I'm very impressed with what you've done with the place, Andy."

He paused mid-action, his hand stilling in the air. He let go of his breath, then finished pounding the final stake into the last corner. Turning to look over his shoulder, he nodded.

"Thanks, Sandra. I'm real pleased with how it's turned out. Did you have something to eat? There's more than enough," he said, continuing to smooth out the surface of the tablecloth.

"You're looking good, Andy. You've really gotten yourself together. The yard work's put some color back in your cheeks. You look like you've been working out."

Andy sat back on one knee, draping one arm across it. With the other, he swiped the sweat from his brow. Was she being for real?

"You know," she continued. "Nicole's birthday is coming up. I was thinking you and I could get together, talk about how to celebrate. Maybe over dinner. I mean, we did make her together. It would mean so much to her for us to work together of her birthday."

Where has her spirit of cooperation been for the last twenty or so years? he thought to himself.

He stood and ran a hand over his head. It was getting warm. He needed a cap.

"I'm cooking Thanksgiving dinner for Nic for her birthday, here at the house," he said.

"Oh, she'll love that. She always complained that we only had turkey and dressing once a year. 'Why does Thanksgiving come around only once a year?' she'd say," Sandra said in a childlike voice. "That's a marvelous idea. A family dinner. I'm sure Jeff can take off work. I don't remember the last time the four of us spent time together." She laid a hand against his upper arm, noticing the muscle straining against the cotton of his shirt. "You know how much that would mean to the kids, Andy."

He arched his back, releasing the tension there, and took the opportunity to scan the lawn until he found her. There was Sharon, her eyes already waiting for his. The soft smile, the small nod. It was enough. It was everything.

"I think it's time to cut the cake," was all he said, stepping around her and crossing the yard.

As he met her at the table, Sharon handed him a ball cap and a glass of lemonade. Andy leaned in, pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, then took a long sip while she settled the cap on his head.

From the opposite end of the lawn, Sandra watched, and huffed in frustration. This would be more difficult than she thought.

The children climbed from the pool and gathered around the table, decorated with badges and tiny plastic police officers. They were delighted by the cake. The center was decorated with a golden badge, the name Scott emblazoned across the middle and a miniature figure of a policeman.

Scotty was thrilled. "He looks just like Grandpa Andy," he said. Just before they started to sing, he grabbed one the other small figurines on the table and set it beside the policeman on the cake and smiled.

"There," he said. "Grandpa Andy needs Sharon beside him."

As the group began to sing, Andy and Sharon, standing just behind them all, shared an unmistakable look of agreement. "He sure does," Andy whispered to her. Arms slung low around one another, they shared a kiss that didn't go unnoticed by Sandra. She, in turn, didn't go unnoticed by her own husband.

Another hour of swimming followed before the exhausted children left with their parents. Provenza took off as well. Dean thanked his father in law, and Sharon, for all of their work, then loaded up the boys. They were wiped out and needed to get home. Nicole stayed to help clean up. Sandra and Art seemed to linger.

Rusty and Jeff bagged up the trash and took it to the road, while Andy cleaned the grill. Nicole took the rest of the food back into the kitchen and packed up the leftovers. Art did his best to find something to do to help. Finally, he used the pool's skimmer to draw the various floats to the side of the pool and pulled them out, stacking them on the the grass.

Sandra found Sharon in the laundry room inside the back door, just off the kitchen, starting a load of wet towels. She certainly seemed at home.

"It was a very nice party," she said. "Dean's boys were happy, I'm sure. Andy's place looks wonderful. I love the work he's done to improve it. The changes he's made are just fantastic."

Dean's boys. Sharon finished stuffing the towels into the washing machine, listen to the woman ramble on and on about upgrades to house she'd never visited. Andy had been clear about that. Sandra had never been in his home. So, how was it she found the changes fantastic? She added both the detergent and the fabric softener before closing the lid and starting the machine.

"It was nice of you to come over and help with the party and," she paused to gesture toward the laundry, "clean up."

"Hey, Sharon?" called Rusty. When he found them in the laundry room, he stopped short. "Oh, sorry."

"Not a problem, Honey. What did you need?"

"Ah, Andy said it was okay if Kevin came over to spend the night, but I'm blocked in so Jeff offered to run me over to pick him up. Is it okay? Please?"

She smiled at him, still working on how best to use his words.

"Of course. Make sure you thank Jeff for the ride. I'm sure Nicole will take Scott's birthday cake home, but the one I made for lunch is still in the kitchen. You boys feel free to polish it off. Better your stomachs than my hips," she laughed.

"Thanks, Sharon," he grinned, his eyes looking over the other woman. "Uh, bye. I'll be back soon."

Sandra's eyes had widened upon hearing that Rusty was staying at Andy's house.

Before she could do more than chew on that tidbit, Andy and Arthur came through the back door.

"Well, that about takes care of the yard," said the former. "Rusty offered to help clean up tomorrow, but I wanted it out of the way. That's not how I want to spend my Sunday off," he said, pausing at the door to the laundry room. "Church and a nap," he stated. "That's what I'm talking about. Who knows when we'll get another Sunday off." He reached for Sharon's hand and pulled her into the hall and toward the front door. He was seeing their guests out.

"Andy Flynn in church?" Sandra snarked as she followed the men through the hall toward the living room.

"Well, with our work schedule, we can't make it every week, but we're there as often as we can be," he called over his shoulder. "Makes the job bearable."

The men continued to make small talk, Arthur thanking Andy for the invitation he genuinely thought they'd received, and Andy being as gracious as he'd promised. His daughter, still in the kitchen, was worth the effort.

Sandra, hands in pockets, chin in the air as she considered all she was up against, chose her words with care, if not grace.

"Well, as I said, it was a nice party. Andy has made his daughter happy, and she's certainly taken a shine to you. Understandable. You make her father look better than ever."

Sharon stopped midway through the room and dropped her head. She'd stayed quiet, served the woman food and drink, put up with her following Andy around the lawn, watched her leer at and touch him, all afternoon. Right in front of her own husband and children. She was ashamed for her and offended on their behalf.

"You know, Sandra, it occurs to me that, in addition to arriving here today, completely uninvited and without a gift for your grandson, you seemed to spend an entire afternoon paying no attention whatsoever to the children or, more specifically, the birthday boy." Looking up, she met the woman's eyes. "Now, why is that? Would you have, perhaps, another motive for coming to Andy's today?"

She kept her voice low, but perhaps not low enough.

"Sandra," said Arthur, in a voice less cordial than that which he was using with her ex-husband and his girlfriend. "It's time to go." To the others, he said, "Andy, Sharon, thanks for everything. It was a great party. I know the boys had a terrific time, really."

He ushered a pale, shaken Sandra through the door, and then they were gone.

Andy closed the door behind them and turned to embrace Sharon.

"Well done, Babe. I believe the party was a resounding success.."

She looked up at him with an uncertain smile. They boys had indeed had a marvelous time. The team had enjoyed the day too. The food was terrific, the fellowship as well. Something in Sandra's visit was gnawing at her.

"What's wrong, Sweetheart? I thought it was a great day."

"It was, it was. I just. I don't ever want to speak ill of your kids' mother, but," she paused. "She didn't spend any time with the Nicole or Jeff or the boys. Not even Scott. I mean, it was his birthday. I mean, if they were going to crash the party, the least she could do was spend some time with the boys. I'm worried they," she stopped and exhaled. "Do you think they noticed? Do you think she hurt their feelings?"

"She hurt mine," they heard from the kitchen.

They turned to see Nicole, dishtowel in her hands, disappointment in her eyes.

"I only hope they were so distracted by the party that they didn't notice she only talked to Dad. Funny, considering she hasn't had anything nice to say about him in twenty years," she said with a roll of the eyes. "I'll have to think about that one later. For now, thank you both for a great day. For all the food, the decorations, for making sure the lawn was ready in time. It was perfect, even with Mom crashing the party. Thank you both," she said, walking toward both of them.

Sharon and Andy opened their arms to her, welcoming her into their combined embrace. It was an odd end to a mostly joyful day. Hopefully, all the boys would remember was the joy.

As the sun went down, the stars began to shine on a pair of lovers, frolicking like children in the water. The day may have belonged to the whole lot of them, friends and family alike. The night, though, belonged to them alone.

VII My Future is You

The fall continued to fly, like leaves. They saw the worst LA had to offer, those who didn't want to play by the rules constantly inserting themselves into the lives of others. Murderers, rapists, terrorists. Ex-spouses.

Sandra took a direct approach, attempting to invite herself to further gatherings. Ever mindful of the delicate balance of his still-healing family, Andy tried to be subtle each time he rebuffed her. Sharon had confronted her once and it would have to hold her for a while. She wouldn't become a wedge in Andy's family, even if Sandra was insistent on making her one. Even Nicole was trapped in the middle of her meddling. No, it was her son, the last person she ever expected to stand up to her, who called her on her behavior.

She had shown up on Andy's doorstep, again uninvited, on a Saturday morning in November. She'd even planned ahead, calling the office and finding out he had taken personal time over the weekend.

Rusty shut off the vacuum, satisfied with the upstairs carpet. Of course, it was clean to begin with. Andy was neat as a pin, just like Sharon. He'd tucked his own belongings into the double in the next room, rather than the room he usually used when they stayed over. With his siblings surprising Sharon for the upcoming Thanksgiving break, he and Ricky had agreed to take the room with the two twin beds and offer Emily the room next door with the queen.

At the sound of the doorbell, he moved toward the stairs before hearing Got it! from downstairs. Jeff, Andy's son, was helping to get the place ready. Rusty smiled. Jeff was coming around a lot more lately, which made Andy really happy. Andy was a good guy. Grumpy, but good. He deserved a break. He'd always, always come through for Sharon and for him.

Jeff trotted to the front door and pulled it open, surprised to find, of all people, his mother.

"Mom, hey. What are you doing here?"

Sandra looked at her son, in a T shirt and jeans, a laundry basket under one arm, resting on his hip. He looked positively domestic.

"I could ask you the same," she said derisively.

He studied her, still confused as to her presence in his father's home. She'd been coming around a lot lately, which he didn't understand. Since he was all of ten, she'd made it abundantly clear, she thought very little of Andy Flynn.

"Mom, is everything alright? Did you need something?"

"I came to see your father," she said, offering nothing more.

He shrugged, then set the basket down at his feet.

"He's not here."

"What do you mean?" she asked, crossing her arms. "He took the day off. Where is he then?"

Jeff, leaned against the doorframe and gave her a good look, his mother, the woman who had raised him. She'd done it alone for a while, then with Arthur at her side. It took him years to discover that his father had, indeed, tried to see him. He had paid his child support, his college tuition, his baseball camp, his orthodontia. All of which went against what his mother had told him. Yes, his dad had struggled. Yes, he was an addict, but an addict with twenty years in recovery. It was a disease. He wasn't a deadbeat. He wasn't a loser who cared nothing for his children. So why, after years of belittling and berating was she suddenly popping in from time to time?

"He took Sharon out of town while we get the place ready for a little surprise. Why? Anything wrong? Is Nicki okay?" he asked, a bit of a challenge in his tone.

Sandra shifted her weight from one hip to the other.

"No, no. Nothing like that. When will he be back, Jeff?"

"Mom, respectfully, I'm going to ask you a question and I'd like an answer. If it's nothing to do with Nicole, or me- I'm clearly standing right here. Why do you need to speak to Dad? I mean, and again, all respect, Mom but, why is Dad your business all of the sudden? Why are you suddenly interested in Dad? Is it because he's with Sharon? Because make no mistake, he is with Sharon and that's not changing. My guess is that's a permanent deal. I thought you and Arthur were too. I mean, where is he in all of this? You're married, Mom."

She stood in the doorway, not yet invited in. She had visibly paled, shamed by her son. He'd seen it, and called her on it. Andy had himself together. He was better than ever. Not only had he pulled himself together, he'd rebuilt his relationship with his children. He was building a future with a new woman, an elegant, refined, successful woman who probably wouldn't give a lesser man the time of day, so the new Andy Flynn had to be for real. He had it all. Everything but her. Her, he no longer needed.

"Mom, you should go home," he said gently, "to your husband."

He watched as she turned to leave. When he finally closed the door, he hung is head, a little embarrassed on her behalf, a little sympathetic. His dad was who she wanted, perhaps all along.

"You okay?" he heard behind him.

"You hear all that?" he asked.

"Enough," Rusty answered honestly. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I think it needed to be said, and I think you needed to be the one to say it. Better you than your sister, or your dad or my mom."

Jeff sighed heavily and leaned back against the door. "Yeah. This one I'll take for the team."

They'd spent the evening driving along the stunning Pacific Coast Highway, with its magnificent views of the shimmering blue water. Sharon couldn't remember the last time she'd taken time off of work, let alone been swept away on a romantic getaway. Yes, Andy had framed it as an opportunity to do some last minute Christmas shopping, but she suspected it was his way of softening the blow of missing her older children over Thanksgiving.

The night, they'd spent in beautiful Malibu, in a small cabin on the beach. Sharon loved the water. The beach itself, she could take or leave, but the water, the breeze, the stars. It was the atmosphere that captured her.

After the long drive, after an even longer week, they went straight to bed and slept in the following morning. A breakfast of croissant and fruit, along with coffee and juice, fortified them for a day of Christmas shopping in the boutiques on the shores of Malibu.

Both Sharon and Andy had most of what they needed to go under their trees. For the first time in years, it seemed Andy might see both of his kids over the holiday. Sharon was still uncertain about hers. The boys, yes. Ricky was relatively sure he could make at least a brief trip to LA. Emily, however, didn't know yet. Her performance schedule was always problematic when it came to trips home. The idea of celebrating their first Christmas together, officially, brightened her spirits though, and she held onto that.

They made a few purchases before having lunch at a spot at the wharf. Afterward, Andy suggested driving out to Point Fermin. One of his favorite spots in the state, he said.

The drive was breathtaking, as was the destination. They parked in a public lot at Point Fermin Park, high atop the bluffs overlooking the Pacific. A well-maintained public park, home to bird-watching, fair-weather concerts, and avid joggers, it also boasted one of the most magnificent, heart-stopping views in the western US.

November may seem to some a peculiar time for a visit. It was cooler, damp, sometimes hazy. There were few people about. It was not the tourist season. All the better, as far as Andy was concerned.

They climbed from the car and were instantly hit with the scent of salt. Sharon stood, face to the sea spray, eyes closed, and accepted it. Like the California pines that withstood the wind, the lighthouse above them that towered over the rocks, unwavering, she stood.

He watched her over the top of the car and wondered at her strength, at the number of storms she'd withstood. What must have gone into the construction of Sharon Raydor? It made him a little sad to think on.

Opening the door to the back seat, he reached inside for the blanket and heavier jacket he'd brought along, knowing her tendency to easily chill. Approaching her from behind, he settled the coat over her shoulders and left his hands there, joining her in the moment.

They followed a trail through the park out toward the bluffs overlooking the coast. Seaspray moistened the air while gulls cried over head and Monarchs fluttered along the path. The grasses still held their green luster, while the various plant life blooming along the cliffs added color and texture, creating a multi-layered earthy tapestry in striking contrast to the blues and greens of the water churning below.

Finding a level patch of ground overlooking the Pacific, Andy spread a blanket and offered her a seat. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she accepted his hand and dropped to her knees. Once situated, they sat in relative silence, basking in the mixture of sunny warmth and November's chill.

"I love to be immersed in nature," she finally said. "Most people would never believe that of Captain Raydor," she chuckled. "In my well-cut suits and designed heels. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy the finer things, opera, the symphony, galleries, certainly, but this," she sighed in awe. "This is art in its finest, most original form. 'God is a master artist,' as my grandmother used to say."

"Sounds like a wise woman," he said as he watched the wind toy with her hair, the sun setting it aflame. He raised his hand and drew his finger across her cheek, tucking the errant strands behind her ear. It was in vain, of course, no match for the wind on the bluffs. He loved the feel of her hair on his hand, like silk. For years, it had teased him, as had most everything else about her, bouncing and swinging at her shoulders, framing her face, the red undertones making the green in her eyes explode. The first time he'd gotten close enough to touch it, he'd freed it from the tears she'd tried to hide from him. It was the night Daniel Dunn had beaten her boy. After the ice and the ointments and the photographs, after the promises not to physically throttle the man, she'd put Rusty to bed, then called Andy. That was the first time he'd touched her, really touched her.

The first time he'd kissed her, in that way that he'd longed to kiss her, he drove his fingers deep into that hair, those auburn curls tangling around his fingers. The fragrance nearly overwhelmed him, like gardenias and honey. It was the same scent that hypnotized him now. Gardenias and honey.

"What's that?" she asked him. "Something about honey?"

His eyes grew wide. "Huh?" Did he say that out loud? "Honey. Hair."

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, then adoration.

Andy took a breath, then began again. "Your hair smells of gardenias and honey. That's what I meant. I've always thought so."

Sharon tucked her lower lip beneath her teeth, blinking against the tears that threatened. Her surly lieutenant was such a goofy, awkward, poet sometimes. She covered his hand where it rested along her cheek and leaned into it.

"I love you, Andy Flynn."

"Back at you, Captain," he said, drawing her near and pressing a kiss to her lips.

"I wanted to talk to you about something that's been on my mind. I know you like to take you time and chew on things, turn them over and over for a while. I'd like your thoughts and I'd like you to really think about it first before giving me your opinion. "

"Sounds important," she said, brows raised.

"It is, and I find your input very helpful in important matters," he said, lifting her hand to kiss her fingertips. "You're a good bit smarter than I am," he chuckled.

"So, what's up?"

He took a deep breath, let it out, and forged ahead.

"I'm really looking forward to the coming week. I always look forward to having you and the kid stay over. You know, I bought that big old house hoping my own family would come together and get stronger there."

She nodded. "It may have taken longer than you imagined, but it's happening. Plus, you have the bonus of grandchildren."

"I do," he smiled. "Isn't that something? I never thought I would feel comfortable sharing my space with anyone again. The first time turned out so badly, you know. Provenza, maybe," he laughed, and she joined him. "The thing is, each time you guys come to spend a weekend, I look forward to it all week long. Then, when you're gone again, it's, well it's awful. It's too quiet. No music or video games thumping from upstairs, no hoodies on the back the sofa. No bras drying on my curtain rod," he said as if it were the most inconvenient thing ever.

Sharon lowered her eyes to where their hands joined in his lap. She watched the steady motion of his thumb drawing circles on her skin. He'd spent an inordinate amount of his life alone, a fact that pressed heavily on her chest.

"I know how hard you worked to free yourself of Jack and how much your independence means to you," he continued, eyes on the horizon. "I know you bought your condo yourself and you poured your heart and soul into making it your own. I also know what it means to Rusty. He's never had a home before."

Finally, he looked up and found her eyes.

"What I wanted to say is that, whatever our future looks like, I know I want you in it. You're the best friend I've ever had and this past year together has shown me that my future is you. So, what I'd like you to think about, talk to Rusty about, is if you guys might want to come build a home and family with me. Make my home, our home."

Squeezing her hands between his own, he gave her that boyish smile that always made her heart beat faster. "Will you think about it?"

Her hands still in his, she leaned against him, tucking her face into the curve of his neck and rested there. They enjoyed the space of a moment before she sat up just enough to see his face and smiled at him.

"I will, yes."

They stayed there together, watching the sunset over Catalina, each thinking over the possibilities. As the sun went down, so did the temperature, causing Sharon to shiver.

"Want to leave? You're shaking," he said, draping an arm across her shoulders.

"Not yet," she said, eyes fixed on the sky.

Smiling, he reached for the length of blanket not beneath them and gathered it up around them both. When she leaned her head against him and burrowed in closer, his smile only grew.

"Andy?" she whispered, loathe to break the spell. At his quiet hmm, she added, "You're my future, too."

"Just leave your stuff here for now," Rusty told his sister. "I'll take it upstairs after I give you the nickel tour, as Andy would say."

Emily and Ricky followed him inside Andy's home, the former looking around with eyes opened wide wit admiration.

"I'll take it. I've had the tour. She's in your room, right?" he asked his brother.

"It's not my room," he said. "But yeah, that one. You and I are in the double next to it."

Emily stepped further into the living area, letting her purse slide from her shoulder onto a table behind the sofa. Looking around, she took in the high ceilings with exposed beams, hardwood floors scattered with woven rugs. The furnishings looked to be handcrafted, maple perhaps. She remembered her brother saying something about Andy working with wood. Had he really done all of this?

The kitchen and a dining room were off to the left and the stairs leading to the second floor, she assumed, were straight ahead. Walking deeper into the house, she scanned the finer details, finding far more refinement and polish than she expected in the home of a bachelor. It was, frankly, stunning.

Soft music seemed to follow her from entryway to living room to kitchen.

"Andy made these day before yesterday and popped them in the freezer," said Rusty, sliding a pair of lasagnes into the oven. "We'll add some bread and a salad.."

"Voila! Surprise, Mom!" she said. "You're sure she's no idea we're coming? I mean, I just talked with her the other day, made sure I mentioned my schedule for the upcoming week, just to throw her off."

"I'm sure, I'm sure," he said. "She was acting particularly bummed just yesterday over breakfast, saying how much she missed you both but how you were living your lives, just as you should. You know, what she always says."

"Always," she agreed. "She's always supported whatever we wanted to do, and I do wish there was a way to do that without being so far away from her. I'm glad she's has you though, and now Andy, too. Do you guys stay over a lot? There's certainly enough room."

"Ah, yeah, sometimes. Long weekends here and there. When they know they're guaranteed some time off and they plan to spend it together. Since he put the pool in, it's even more tempting. This place is, like, perfect. You should see the back yard. It's like something out of a magazine. And their bedroom. Like Better Homes and Gardens, seriously."

Their bedroom. Emily wondered just how long it would be before their little sleepovers would become a permanent thing.

She made to join him in the kitchen, then noticed the open bedroom door. While she didn't enter the room, she did peek inside. Her brother was right. It was sensational. Shaking her head, she walked back to the kitchen to help get dinner ready.

"Tell me what to do. How can I help?"

"Looks like Rusty's plans fell through," said Sharon. "He said he was hoping to hang out with Kevin this weekend."

Andy reached around her and unlocked the door leading from the garage to the kitchen. As soon as he opened it, allowing her to pass through first, the aroma of zesty marinara and savory herbs hit them both.

"Well, his loss is our gain, because he's obviously been at work in the kitchen," said Andy. "I'll take the bags and put them away. You go investigate dinner."

He turned left past the kitchen to deposit their bags in the bedroom. Sharon followed, but finding no one in the kitchen, paused.

Then she heard Rusty's voice coming from the formal dining room, which was rarely used. A shame, she thought. It was lovely. Andy had served her supper there for her birthday, and they had done the same earlier in the month for Nicole. Switching direction, she went in search of her son, and her dinner.

What she found was so much more.

"Surprise!" called not only her youngest, but all three of her children.

Sharon stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, breath caught, as if momentarily frozen. Then, just as suddenly, she went from pause to resume.

"Oh!" she cried. "I can't believe you're both here!" She rushed forward at the same time as her children, gathering both in her arms. She may see her older son a bit more often than her girl, but there was something so very special about having them all together. Over their shoulders, she grinned at Rusty, gesturing for him to join them. While hesitant about such displays, he went willingly, knowing what it would mean to her.

"All three of you here, together. That's something to give thanks for, for sure," she said.

"Hey, guys. I see you made it," said Andy.

"Hi, Andy," said Emily, stepping away from her mother to greet their host. "We did." She enveloped him in a hug. "Thanks for having us and for arranging all of this. Your place is amazing, by the way. I could stay here forever."

"Just say the word, kiddo," he replied, which didn't go unheard by her mother.

"Shall we eat?" Rusty asked them. "It's ready."

While Sharon's three eagerly took their seats, she spun in place and gave Andy the look, the one he'd come to understand meant he'd done something exactly right. Held tilted just so, lips pressed together firmly as if to stem the tide of tears, breathing just barely under control.

He took the few steps between them and wrapped her in a hug with her arms still at her side. Swaying side to side.

When he reluctantly pulled away, he looked at her. She seemed to have something to say, but an inability to say it.

"What is it, Babe?"

After a moment more, she simply patted his chest, just over his heart. "Not now. Just, thank you," she said, overcome. She slipped around him and took a seat at the table, pushing her emotions aside, Captain-style.

They ate, and laughed, and shared. Afterward, when Andy and Rusty volunteered to clean up, Sharon retired to the living room with her older two to catch up face to face. Emily and Ricky, together, always seemed to devolve into six year olds, as their mother described them, as soon as they were in the same room for five minutes. This visit would apparently be no different.

They filled their mother in on the latest on their exciting lives lived, unfortunately for their mother, far away from home. She watched them, thrilled more than she could say to have them near. Yet, she felt like crying. Good tears, she would swear. Joyful.

When the hours grew late, Sharon began to wilt. Regretfully, she stood and stretched. It had been a wonderful weekend, but a full one, at the end of an equally full work week. She was beat.

"My darlings, I'm happier than you know to have you all here together for the week, but I'm afraid I must bring this day to a close. Andy and I have had a very trying week and I need to be up early in the morning."

She bent low to kiss each one before bidding the trio goodnight and thanking them for dinner. Turning to go, she found Andy waiting for her at the edge of the room. He said his own goodnights, then draping an arm across her shoulders, led her down the hall.

"She looks good," said Emily. Turning to her brother. "You guys see it, don't you? Like really good. Content. Comfortable in her own skin, you know?"

Ricky nodded. He thought he knew what she was trying to say. Their mother had always, always been in control of her surroundings at work. At home, she was on top of things, a small, but distinct difference. They never wanted for anything. She made time for everything, which was no small feat considering she was dong it all alone. She was always exhausted, though. While she tried not to let it show, they noticed, particularly as they got older. Their mom may seem like a superhero, but she was just Mom and moms got tired. Theirs did, and lonely, and overwhelmed with no one to help shoulder the load or share the journey.

"She looks really good," he agreed. "They're good for each other. It's about time someone put her first."

Rusty chuckled. "Well, Andy certainly does that. He thinks the sun rises and sets on Mom."

Emily and Ricky shared a look and the former said, "As it should be."

Sharon turned the shower on and set the water to warmer than usual. If she hurried, she could be in and out before Andy finished checking the pool and turning off the outdoor lights.

Shedding her clothes and tossing them in the hamper, she leaned against the vanity, cool beneath her fingers. Goodness, it was beautiful. Granite in pearl grey with pewter fixtures, two sinks. Two sinks. It was the only compromise she'd made in purchasing the condo, not wanting to wait the extra time to move in. It was only her at the time. Little did she know she'd be taking in another child. In the home she'd shared with Jack, albeit for little more than three years, she'd requested a double vanity, knowing the mess Jack made of a bathroom. He balked at the waste of money. Of course, at the time, he wasn't wrong.

Andy's bathroom had only the one the first time she'd seen it, the entire thing changed in his remodel. It's like he'd read her mind. Perhaps she'd mentioned her preference? No reason it would have come up.

Finally, she opened the glass door of the shower, another change. He'd traded his plain single shower stall for a three-sided glass enclosure. It was quite large and took a bit of getting used to, feeling rather exposed. Fortunately, it quickly steamed up, providing a little coverage.

She stepped beneath the spray and let it saturate her hair before turning her face into the stream. Suddenly, the tears that had threatened all evening, for reasons she could hardly articulate, were allowed to fall and wash away.

"Sweetheart, everything okay? Need anything?"

He'd noticed the absence of humming. She always hummed in the shower, and she'd been a bit off all evening. Andy suddenly worried that she was upset about his invitation to move in with him.

"Sharon? Baby, can I do something?" he asked again, waiting. After a full, weighted moment, she finally replied.

"Join me?"

He inhaled and swallowed. That was a first. A new level of intimacy. He quickly shed his clothes before opening the door and stepping in behind her. Good Lord, he thought to himself. He was going to need to keep himself in check. His lady was beautiful, no doubt. Elegant, classy, sexy, alluring. Sharon in a shower, though, was a whole new kind of beautiful. Like she'd said the previous day, Art in its finest, most original form.

Stepping toward her, he simply placed his hands against her hips and drew her back against his chest. It was enough to give her away. He could feel the tremble roll through her.

"Will you tell me now?"

She sniffed and let go of her breath, regaining her footing a bit.

"You know, I've never compared you to Jack. You may have something in common, other than me," she said with a sad smile, "but you are different men in every way."

She turned to face him, settling her hands against his chest.

"I can think of a hundred and one ways in which he broke me down just to build himself up over the last thirty years. Digs at my figure, comments about how cold I've grown, lewd suggestions about how I've made my way to the top, all to make himself feel better about always landing himself at the bottom."

When her voice tightened again and the tears loomed, he caught them with his thumbs, swiping them away.

"Take your time, Babe, or stop. You don't have to explain yourself to me at all."

"Oh, I do," she said, placing her fingertips to his lips. "I do. You see, it occurred to me this evening, not for the first time, that I can also count a hundred and one ways in which you build me up simply because you sense that, underneath the power suits and heels, I need it. I don't know how you do it, but you do. And you do it at just the right time, every time. That's not a coincidence. It's just, I don't know, very special. You are very special, Andy."

"It's not a coincidence, Sharon, and I'm not so special. It is completely intentional, Sweetheart."

He touched her chin and lifted it until he had her eyes, her full attention.

"It is my mission, Sharon Raydor, to put those hurts behind you. For every heartache Jack dealt you, every one, I want to heal one. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on and I will tell you that every day until you forget every cruel word that ass ever said." He spoke with a rare conviction, his voice shaking with it. "For every time he calls you cold as ice, I will remind you that you are warm and loving and passionate, Sharon. He wants to accuse you of sleeping your way to the top your field? He knows better, Babe. He just can't stand that you're better than he'll ever be. You understand? What he hurts, I'll try to heal. What he tears down, I'll rebuild. I swear. It's not a coincidence. It's not just me trying to make my girlfriend feel better. It's my mission. It's my goal, every day, to make sure you never, ever doubt that you are loved."

She gave up. She was nothing against the tears. Falling into him, she accepted what he had to give. And really, what was so wrong with feeling worthy?

They slept well, as they knew they would, together. Sharon was floating, having her children home for the week, even if home was Andy's. They seemed perfectly okay with that. Rusty didn't seem to mind. It was strange how easy she found it, sharing his space.

Emerging from the closet, a large walk-in with even more space than her own, she turned her back to Andy in a silent question.

Smiling, he stepped closer and zipped up her dress. When she turned to face him, she straightened his tie, delighted to see the the color complemented her dress. He grabbed his jacket and handed her the purse she'd left on the dresser, and together they left the bedroom.

The smell of coffee greeted them as they neared the kitchen.

"Did you set the timer for the coffee?" she asked him.

"Nope. Not me," he said.

Reaching the counter they found all three of Sharon's kids waiting, dressed for Mass.

"Oh my," she said. "This is certainly a rare treat." She bid them good morning with hugs for each.

"Well, it is Thanksgiving. We thought we'd make the extra effort. It takes so little to make you happy, Mom."

"Thank you, Em," she said, kissing her cheek. "I like this," she added, eyeing her dress.

"We poured the coffee to go. Rusty said you usually skip breakfast on Sundays in favor of brunch afterward."

"We do," said Andy. "There's a great little place near St. Joseph's that your mom really likes. We usually stop there after Mass then come back here for a nap," he chuckled. "Such fabulous lives we lead."

"Maybe today you guys can enjoy the pool," Sharon suggested. "The backyard is an absolute dream."

Emily's brows raised in interest.

"It really is," Rusty agreed. "You've never seen anything like it."

"Shall we go?" asked Ricky, sailing through with the keys to his rental.

"You guys go ahead," said Sharon. "Andy and I will probably make a stop on the way home."

Emily, Ricky, and Rusty shared a look, then turned to go.

Sharon and Andy followed them out the door, then paused to lock it.

"Do we need to make a stop?" he asked.

"Not really. You know what they're like the they get together. I just thought in a couple of hours, we might need a few quiet moments." She grinned at him and shrugged her shoulders.

It sounded good to him.

Mass was extra meaningful for Sharon that morning, seated between Andy and Emily, her boys on the other side of their sister. Sitting in church with her family, and it did feel like family, gave her a feeling of wholeness. Fitting, she supposed. That's how one should feel in church.

Afterward, they sent the kids ahead to the cafe, following behind them. Brunch was lighthearted and easy. Ricky and Emily had a few old friends they hoped to spend time with while in town, but planned to spend most of the week close to home. Rusty, too, had plans. Kevin was in town and the two had agreed to meet up at least once over the break.

Following their meal, they sent the kids back to the house, and made a leisurely stop at the market on their way home, thinking they would return the favor of the evening's meal. It also gave them half an hour alone.

Arriving at home, they found the kids in the pool. Like a trio of six year olds, indeed, they laughed and splashed as much as the grandchildren.

Emily pulled herself up on the pool's edge and toweled the water from her hair.

"Andy, this back yard is unbelievable. The whole house, actually. You could retire on what you could get renting this place out as a vacation home or for events. It's gorgeous."

"Thanks, Emily. I'm real proud of the way it's shaping up."

"Shaping up? As in, you're planning more?"

Andy took a seat on the lounger near the pool. "Not sure yet," he said, watching Sharon stroll the lawn, fingertips dusting the sparse greenery. "We'll see."

They rounded out their day with fish and vegetables, along with homemade bread with olive oil, all grilled and enjoyed outdoors. Gathered around the poolside fire pit, they talked long into the evening about everything and about nothing. Ricky's latest tech venture, Emily's upcoming holiday performances, Rusty's semester exams.

Sharon told them about their weekend on the coast, the gifts they found for Nicole's boys. Andy discussed with them the arrangements for Thanksgiving Day. He was thrilled with the addition of his own kids to their table. Both were planning to spend the day with Sandra, popping by Andy's house later that evening, but just last week, his daughter called and told him their mother had abruptly changed her plans and would be traveling instead. Nicole didn't know what to make of it. Her brother told her to just let it go. Their dad was long overdue for a day with them all to himself.

They were all pretty pleased to hear that.

Sharon and Andy bid them goodnight, leaving them to enjoy Rusty's gaming system upstairs. They made their way out through the door leading to the lawn, turning things off, locking the gate. Andy double checked the grill and the pit while Sharon stared up at the stars.

Smiling, he reached for her hand and, giving it a gentle tug, spun her into his arms. Drawing her close, he swayed with her, side to side, and let Frank work his Old Black Magic.

"You're happy," she husked in his ear. "It looks good on you."

He held her near, one arm at her back, keeping her against him. In the other, he held her hand close to his heart. Lifting it, he kissed her fingertips. "I am. My kids are coming for Thanksgiving, for the first time ever. We'll have all five of them together."

"Isn't it wonderful?" she said, pressing a kiss to his chest. "It's absolutely perfect."

He turned her under the glow of the lights above, humming along with the music.

"I can't imagine why Sandra would suddenly decide to travel, out of nowhere. She didn't even say where. She doesn't do things spur of the moment. Nic says her mom's been a little off the past several days. To be honest, it was getting a little uncomfortable, her suddenly so friendly, coming around. It was weird, you know?"

"Um hm," she hummed. Normally, talking about Sandra while dancing under the moonlight wouldn't make sense, but he needed to talk and she would listen. He was right. Sandra had been around a lot and extremely attentive when she was. As secure as she was in Andy's love for her, it made her skin crawl to watch his former wife openly flirt with him right in front of her, and in front of her own husband. She could only imagine how uncomfortable it made Andy.

"She was almost, I don't know.."

"Coming on to you?" she finished for him. "Yes, I'm aware."

Without letting her go, he drew back enough to see her face. "What?"

Sharon shook her head, a sad smile on her face. "Andy, she wasn't exactly subtle, a shame, considering her husband and your children were there. At Scott's party?"

He just stared at her, in disbelief. "But that makes no sense."

Sharon rested her palm against his cheek. Such a dear man. "Doesn't it? Honey, you are an extremely attractive man. You always have been. Once she stopped degrading you in front of your kids and took a good look at how far you've come, she got a look at what she's lost. Face it, Honey, you're a catch."

He shook his head, at a loss for words.

"Too bad, I already caught you," she said, pressing a kiss to his lips, letting it linger, as they continued to sway. "And I'm not giving you back."

From the upstairs window, Emily watched them dance and talk and love. It was a side of her mother she'd never seen. Mom, happy in love. Then she exhaled, a huff of disappointment. Her dad was a putz.

Thanks to mild temperatures and a heated pool, Sharon's kids spent most of their week in LA enjoying Andy's backyard. While he and Sharon had business around town, the bank, the cleaners, a stop at the condo for a forgotten sweater, her children managed to connect with friends while in town. They had Nicole and her family over for dinner. Emily even called Jack, letting him know she was in town for the week and hoped to see him.

It wasn't something she looked forward to, but she couldn't justify to herself flying across the country and not even meeting him for coffee.

It was just the opening Jack was waiting for, his son having sent him packing after the business at Sharon's condo in the spring. He waited until mid-morning on Tuesday, when his ex-wife would be at work, before stopping by Los Feliz. Emily wouldn't be a problem; she rarely was. No, the first hurdle would be Hal, the security officer he'd slugged earlier in the year.

He sauntered into the lobby, eyes scanning the area for Hal. Seeing another man in his place, he smiled and straightened his shoulders. It might be even easier than he thought.

"Can I help you, Sir?" he asked from his desk.

"Just visiting family in the building," Jack said, turning on the charm. "Raydor. 1109."

The guard shook his head apologetically. Mrs. Raydor had come and gone already that morning, not staying more than ten minutes. "I'm sorry, friend. Mrs. Raydor's not here anymore."

What? Not here anymore? What did that mean?

"I'm sorry you wasted a trip," he added.

Jack smacked his lips, unnerved by the information. He scanned the desk, the mailboxes on the wall. There. Her name was still on the label. Below it, though, was a basket, also marked Raydor. It was empty.

"No, not a problem," he bumbled. "I, I'll catch up with them. Appreciate it," he said, waving over his shoulder as he stomped toward the exit. He lumbered toward his beat up sedan wondering, Where the hell is Sharon?

"Thanks for swinging by the condo," she said, reaching for his hand across the center console. "I missed by cardigan. I can't believe I forgot it. Plus, the mail was piling up. That's a dead giveaway that you're out of your home."

"It is, yes, and you're welcome. You've got what you need. Now I get to take you to lunch. Win-win," he said with a wink. "So, what'll it be, my lady love? Le garen francais? Il tavolo di Marcello?"

Sharon tilted her head and gave him the look again.

"I love them both, as you well know, Andy. Are you trying to butter me up?"

He covered her hand on the console and shook his head.

"No, just wanted to take you someplace special today while we're out," he hedged.

"Andy," she said, a hint of warning.

He stopped at an intersection and squeezed her hand.

"I know you heard Em talking to Jack last night and that she's going to see him while she's here. I also know you overheard Rick's opinion on it all. You're stuck in the middle. You'd never discourage them from spending time with him, which I can appreciate, having experienced that from his perspective. Rick's taken a step back. I think that's a wise choice, although I'm sure it was a tough one. I just know it's weighing on your mind. I thought I'd try to help."

She leaned across the console and kissed him, smiling against his lips. "You are," she softly said. "Even when you can't make it all better, knowing you want to, how hard you try to, it helps."

"I guess that's something," he mumbled.

"Andy," she cooed. "It's everything." Sitting up in her seat, she held fast to his hand. "Now, let's have lunch. Marcello's, I think. I do love Italian."

Andy grinned widely at that, sitting a little taller in his seat. He felt better, calmer, and damned lucky to be Italian.

Wednesday was spent in the kitchen, tending to what could be prepped ahead of time and baking an assortment of sweets. The house was filled with the aromas of cinnamon and apples. Smooth jazz played.

With the feast they had planned for the following day, they decided to keep their evening meal simple, saving room for the turkey to come. The kids chose soup and sandwiches in front of a movie. They had what they needed for supper, but insisted a movie requited snacks. So, while Sharon and Andy put the kitchen back to rights, Ricky, Rusty, and Emily made a run to the store.

There was a market some twenty minutes from Andy's house. He liked their selection of fresh produce and herbs, as well as its proximity to his home. Rusty had discovered that, in addition to the usual aisle chock full of candy and chips, they also carried a collection of imported specialty items, among them some of Sharon's favorites.

Finding a parking space was problematic the afternoon before Thanksgiving, but they did. Then, they made their way into the store, hopeful that most shoppers would be focused on anything other than popcorn and Twizzlers.

Two aisles over, rifling through the frozen dinners, was a rumpled Jack Raydor. He wore a two day old suit and a three day old beard. He tossed containers around in the cooler, not sure what he was looking for, but frustrated nonetheless. His daughter was in town, but wouldn't see him until Friday. His son was in town, but wouldn't be seeing him at all, and his wife-ex-wife, had apparently moved. His entire family was there in the city. Thanksgiving was the next day, and he was still left out in the cold.

Cursing under his breath, he grabbed a frozen dinner from the case, picked up the case of beer sitting at his feet, and stomped off toward the checkout.

He made it out to the car and tossed his things into the backseat, kicking the door shut. As he turned to climb into the driver's seat, he saw a familiar face beaming across the lot. Quickly, he dropped into his seat, and watched through the windshield. Walking through the lot were his kids. Ricky and Emily and the other one. The spare his wife had taken in. They talked and laughed, playfully shoving each other. Like siblings, he thought, rolling his eyes.

They piled into an SUV with a rental decal on the back. That made sense. Both would have flown in and rented a car for the week. When they pulled out and turned south, Jack followed. He wanted to know exactly where Sharon had relocated to, where his kids were hiding from him.

He had his answer a little more than fifteen minutes later when they pulled into a sprawling split-level home with clean landscaping, boxwoods across the front porch, and a long driveway that led behind the home. There were only a few homes on that end of the lane and this one was set far from the road. It was a beautiful place with clean lines, natural wood, lots of glass. Sharon always did like a lot of natural light. Yes, her condo was top of the line. Maybe she just decided more space was needed if that boy was indeed going to be sticking around.

Well, what Sharon wants, she still gets, apparently. She always lands on top.

The kids pulled around to the side and entered through a door near the garage that sat a little further back than the house.

Well, he had his answer. Now, what to do with it.

Hot sandwiches and soup around the coffee table, cocoa with marshmallows, the five of them settled on sofa pillows scattered on the floor. It all made for the cozy sort of evening that created the best kind of memories.

Rusty had never experienced the masterpieces of Alfred Hitchcock. His family chose that evening to fill that gap in his cinematic education, complete with popcorn and licorice.

When they began a third film, Sharon and Andy excused themselves. They did have to be up early to get the turkey going. Bidding them a fond goodnight, they headed off to bed, if not to sleep. Morning would be upon them soon enough and with it, the joy and craziness of a family Thanksgiving. First though, a few hours alone to fortify themselves.

Thursday morning saw them up and in the kitchen early, turkey in the oven and coffee brewing. By the time the kids rose, there was a small breakfast on the bar top, only toasted bagels and fresh-cut fruit. No one wanted to load up before the big feast. The trio dragged in, still clad in their pajamas, and climbed onto the barstools overlooking the kitchen.

Dishes sat ready and waiting for their turn in the oven. Pies rested until after their meal. A stack of good dishes were tucked into the corner until it was time to set the table for dinner. Everything was in order and smelled fantastic.

"Sleep well?" Andy asked them, wondering just how late they'd stayed up.

Ricky simply grunted over his coffee cup. Emily propped her elbow on the counter and rested her head in her hand. Rusty sipped from his cup, then smiled.

"Two more movies, followed by another couple of hours trying to best me at Red Redemption. As if," he grinned.

"What's the plan?" asked Ricky, slowly coming to life as he reached for a bagel. "What can we do to help, Andy?"

Andy leaned into the corner of the countertops, hands covered in flour, and thought. There really wasn't anything, but Ricky wouldn't be offering if he didn't want to contribute.

"I don't know, Rick. I think we're pretty much covered, unless you feel like chopping vegetables."

The younger man raised his cup as if in salute. "I'm your man." He took another bite of his bagel before asking, "Is the parade on?"

Sharon grinned. He had always loved watching the Thanksgiving Day parade, ever since he was a little boy.

"Should be, yes," she said with a smile. "Go on. We're not eating until five. Nicole and her bunch will be over midday. The boys will be stir-crazy. We can put on a movie or something. Maybe let them play outside while we finish up in the kitchen."

"We can watch them outside," said Emily.

"Or I can take them upstairs. They're gamers," said Rusty.

"I trust you have something more appropriate for them than Red Redemption," Sharon said.

"Yes, Sharon," he said. "No bleeding headless warriors. I promise." Standing up, he took his dishes to the sink then said over his shoulder, "I'm going to grab a quick shower."

"Thank you, Rusty," said his mother. "Em, I don't think Andy would mind if you'd like to use the shower in the master. Would you, Andy?"

"Not at all," he said, pulling a few items from the cupboard. "Make yourself at home, Em."

"Go ahead," said her mother. Then, she whispered, "that bathroom will change your life."

That, she had to experience. She grabbed her cell, thinking she should at least call her father and wish him a Happy Thanksgiving, seeing as how she hadn't yet seen him and her visit was nearing its end.

With Rusty upstairs, Emily in the master bathroom, and Ricky transfixed by the floats on the television, Andy covered his prepared dough and set it aside. Taking Sharon by the hand, he pulled her toward the rear door and out onto the back lawn.

"I want to show you something I've been working on. I finished it just last week when we finally closed the Kingman case. I want to know what you think."

"Okay," she chuckled as she let him tug her to the corner behind the kitchen. Under the window was his grill and sink. Tucked behind it under a vinyl cover was, apparently, what he wanted to show her.

Andy pulled it away from the wall and it came easily. Sharon noticed, when she looked down, that it was on wheels, which explained it. He then removed the tarp, revealing a wooden structure containing open boxes, like pockets, on the top, and an empty shelf below. The entire thing was portable, it seemed, given the wheels. There were small holes in each of eight square compartments. Whatever it was, it was beautifully made, the wood smooth and fine.

"I thought in the spring, I would try my hand at an herb garden. You plant the different herbs in these little pockets," he said, pointing to the squares. "There's a shelf underneath for your gardening stuff." He looked to see what she thought. "Maybe something we could do together," he added, sounding a bit like a question.

She studied his face, the hope in his eyes, the way he looked at the cart. He stroked the frame with a sense of pride.

"You built this yourself, didn't you, Andy? It's lovely. I think it's a wonderful idea."

"Thanks. I really like how it turned out. I use the fresh stuff all the time and I think it would be neat to grow it myself, if I can."

"Agreed, but I meant I like the idea of working on it together. Growing something new together sounds nice," she said, trying to convey something more than herbs. "Something to look forward to," she said, kissing him soundly. "And something to be thankful for."

Emily Raydor stood in the center of the master bath, absorbing her surroundings. Shimmering pearl granite, gleaming fixtures, an enormous garden tub below a stained glass window. The shower was separate, a work of art all by itself. With darker grey marble walls and a bench running the length of the large stall, multiple jets.

"If she doesn't move in with him, I may do it myself," she said to herself.

By midday, Nicole and her bunch arrived, greeted by a happy Grandpa Andy and a house filled with inviting aromas.

"Grandpa Andy! It's Thanksgiving!" sang Eric. "We watched the parade this morning. Did you?"

"We saw some of it yes," said Andy. "Ricky camped out on the couch and watched the whole thing."

"Every year, Buddy. Every year," Ricky called from his place at the kitchen counter.

They could here the thud, thud, thud, of his knife as he chopped away at a stack of vegetables, as promised. From the growing pile, his mother pulled round slices of zucchini and squash, layering them into a spiral, in the bottom of a dish. Sprinkling them with pepper, herbs, and cheese, she then placed it in the oven. By the time it was ready, the turkey would be well-rested and the table set for dinner.

Cleaning their hands, they joined the others and accepted a round of hugs and kisses from the boys.

"Hey, guys," Rusty said, bounding down the stairs. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Rusty!" The boys rushed him, nearly tackling him in their enthusiasm. "Can we go upstairs and play the Space game? Please?"

He stopped and shrugged. He did offer to entertain them, although he'd hoped to visit with the others for a bit first. "Sure," he said. "Let's go."

Dean shook his father-in-law's hand, kissed Sharon's cheek, then slipped past them both.

"I'll join you," he said. His boys were good, but young and excited.

Before long, Jeff arrived and their party was complete. He and Ricky took over one end of the living room, While Emily and Nicole sat together on the couch. Their parents stood against the bar, watching their adult children get along as if they'd known each other for years. In truth, Ricky had made a point of visiting more often, mostly to get better acquainted with his new brother. He really liked Andy though, and his kids too. Emily had a harder time getting away, due to her schedule, as well as living on the other side of the country.

When the timer buzzed, they sprung back into action. Sharon finished setting the large table in the formal dining area, while Andy brought the various dishes from the kitchen. Ricky padded to the foot of the stairs and called for the others to join them, while Emily, Nicole, and Jeff, helped their parents.

Rusty passed the boys and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking uneasy. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the holiday for Sharon, or for Ricky and Em.

"Hey, Andy," he said under his breath as the older man approached the kitchen again. "Come'ere."

"What's up?" he asked, equally low, sensing the need to keep his voice down. "You okay, kid?"

Rusty shoved his hands deep into his pocket and shuffled his feet.

Andy rested his palm on the kid's shoulder.

"Rusty, what is it?"

He looked up at the older man and sighed. Looking around, listening to the happy voices of their families, he exhaled.

"Follow me."

Andy followed him down the hall between the kitchen and the dining room. It led to a side door which opened to a covered sidewalk connecting the house to the driveway. From there, Rusty said nothing more. He simply tilted his head toward the front lawn, where it met the road.

Following his gaze, Andy saw what was troubling the boy. Or who.

"You gotta be kidding me right now," he mumbled, then sighed. "Okay. I'll see if I can get him to at least wait until tomorrow, but I'm not keeping a man from keeping his kids, as long as he's sober. Even this ass. Sharon's so happy right now. She's been looking forward to today for weeks," he said, shaking his head. "Go on inside."

He followed the sidewalk to the driveway, then followed that toward the road. Hands in pockets, he considered his words carefully, not wanting to make an awkward situation become a volatile one.

Jack stood on the side of the road, eyes on the front door. He'd cleaned himself up and was wearing a pair of pressed slacks and a jacket. Under his arm he carried a bottle of wine and in his hand, a boxed pie. He was determined to be included in their holiday. This was his family.

He stepped onto the lawn, his mind made. He had a way with Sharon, always had. She was a pushover for a hard luck case. Hell, she'd carried his ass for years.

"Jack," Andy called. "Something I can help you with?"

The other man paused in his tracks. Good grief, he hated that voice. It grated. Lifting his eyes, he glared.

"What are you doing here, Flynn?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Jack. It's Thanksgiving Day. We're just about to sit down to dinner."

"Then I'm right on time," Jack chuckled, attempting a sad sort of charm.

"Or about thirty years too late." Andy stepped further into the yard. "How are you here, Jack?"

"My kids are in town. Emily called me," he hedged.

Andy knew that much was true. Sighing, he shifted his weight, hands on his hips.

"And you found us?" he continued. Emily had certainly spoken to her father, but Andy knew she wouldn't give him his address.

"I know who to use a computer and a phone book. You didn't think my wife would move without telling me where to find her? We have kids together. Ex-wife. Ex. Why couldn't the man use the right word? Now he was just making things up. For one, Sharon hadn't moved. Two, the address was his. Maybe Jackson didn't know that.

"Come on, Flynn. You, of all people, wouldn't keep me from my kids, would you?"

"No Jack. As much as I don't want you to ruin the holiday for them or for Sharon, I wouldn't keep you from your kids, but this isn't the time or the place. Call them. See them tomorrow. Don't ruin the day for Sharon."

"Oh, so you're talking for her now? You should know she won't appreciate that."

"I'm not speaking for Sharon. She's perfectly capable of speaking for herself. Always has been."

"So you get Thanksgiving with my family, but I don't? How does that make any sense? It's not fair. What if my kids want to spend the holidays with me? Huh? Thought about that?"

"I have. So have they. Have you? How many holidays have you missed, Jack? How many family celebrations have you skipped out on in favor of a drink or a card game or, for some reason I will never understand, another woman? I don't speak for Sharon, Jack. And I won't speak for you. Your record speaks for itself. If Rick and Em wanted to spend today with you, they would be. Think about that."

Andy turned back toward the house, then paused. "Go home. Call your kids. See them tomorrow. Now's not the time. Do the right thing."

"You can't make me leave my wife's house. I'm not leaving until I hear it from Sharon."

Andy stood, hands on hips, head bowed.

"Fine. Then hear it from me," said Sharon.

Both men turned toward the door. There she stood.

She waited a beat, as if hoping he would just vanish, then stepped out onto the porch.

"Jack, Emily told me she had plans to see you tomorrow afternoon. Why are you here? We're just about to eat."

"It's Thanksgiving, Sharon. How are you going to have the kids in town and not invite me? And come to think of it, how could you move and not tell me? What if there is an emergency? How am I supposed to reach you?"

Move?

"I didn't move, Jack and I didn't leave you off of my guest list. This isn't my house. It's Andy's. You're free to meet with the kids another day, if they choose. Although, as many times as you've left them hanging, I can't imagine why they would. But I'll leave that to their discretion. They're adults now, Jack. You may have missed that in the last twenty-five years."

"So, you're actually telling me to leave?" He tried once last time.

"Jack, what do you not understand? You've never had a problem leaving before. We are divorced. What more is there to hear?"

Jack raised his hands which, for the first time, showed the bottle of wine he'd brought along.

"I can't believe you would think of choosing him over me. He's no better."

Sharon took a step further onto the lawn.

"I am. I am choosing him. Today, tomorrow, for as many years as I can get him. And he's nothing like you. He's here and he always has been."

She looked to her right where Andy stood on the edge of the drive. Extending her hand to him, she smiled. When he crossed the grass and accepted her hand, the pair turned to go inside only to find their five combined children watching from the entryway. Seeing her children, Sharon stopped short, suddenly concerned it was she, not their father, who had hurt them this time.

Then, Rusty stepped back inside, holding the door open. Nicole looked at Emily with empathy and regret, placing a hand on her shoulder. Jeff stepped onto the lawn, just in case their guest proved to be more difficult, and Ricky walked onto the lawn to stand at his mother's back.

"Come on, Mom. Let's go have dinner," he said, one hand at her back and the other on Andy's shoulder.

They stepped through the door until all that remained was Emily.

"You could have chosen to do the right thing for once, Jack. You didn't. Go home."

They managed to salvage the holiday, first by pretending nothing had happened. The boys deserved that much. It didn't take long after that for their childlike banter and silly jokes to have them genuinely smiling and laughing along. The meal was wonderful, the conversation easy. Despite their uninvited guest, they thoroughly enjoyed being all together.

Sharon and Andy were moved, more than they could say, that their kids interacted with each other so well. They were good people. They would have made an attempt to get along, be cordial, just for their parents. But laughing and teasing, genuinely enjoying being together, completely their Thanksgiving Day.

The day went so well that Sharon's kids wanted Andy's to come back the following day. They planned to put the heated pool to good use.

"Well, I think we managed to pull victory from the jaws of near defeat," said Andy, approaching Sharon from behind. "I'm sorry for the disturbance earlier. I was hoping to just get him to leave and call the kids later. I wouldn't have kept them from him. I just didn't want to spoil your day."

"Oh, Andy," she said covering his hands on her shoulders and tugging them down around her. "You didn't spoil anything. You didn't invite him. You didn't give him your address. It wasn't the kids either. Emily said she didn't tell him where we were staying. She only told him she was in town to spend Thanksgiving with me and that she would try to meet with him before she went back to New York. Now she doesn't even want to do that. Ricky hasn't spoken to him since he was arrested last spring."

She turned in his embrace and rested her hands over his heart.

"Jack tried to spoil the day. He didn't. You salvaged it. The kids too. It all ended up just right. We're here. We had all five of our kids together and they got along famously. We have them tomorrow too. We'll figure out how to deal with Jack, and with Sandra. But all that matters right now is that I have you."

"You do. Today, tomorrow, for as many years as I can give you," he said, repeating her words from earlier.

She rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his smiling lips.

"I do. I choose you, Andy. I mean that. Today, tomorrow, with our children and meddlesome exes and Provenza."

He chuckled and tugged her close.

"And our beautiful home," she said, breathless.

His eyes grew wide.

"I've been turning your offer over and over, just like you said I would. I got to thinking about something that, until recently, somehow eluded me.:

"What's that, Sweetheart?"

"Well, my condo is a beautiful place. I've loved my time there. The view from my balcony is unmatched. I can see the stars and the treetops from there. I love the way the sun reaches into my bedroom window in the mornings. I have my little plants in their pots and baskets. I can enjoy good book and a glass of wine in the evening. My bathroom has that big tub that's so good for soaking after an awful day dealing with the city's worst. Then, there's Rusty. He's never known another home. Not really. I think we have that in common. It's a safe place for him. He's grown brave and strong there. So have I. It's the one place that has no connection to Jack. Something I accomplished on my own."

Andy kissed her fingertips, a little sad at what she would be giving up to be with him.

"But what good is it to grow brave if you don't do something with it?"

She drew him out through the French doors onto the patio. Sitting down, she continued.

"Look around, Andy. Everything I love most about my condo, you've recreated here. You've given me the pool," she grinned, "as well as those little boys to share it with." She allowed her eyes to pass over the yard. "You've given me my treetops and my stars." She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "Most of all, you've given me a place where Rusty and I can continue to grow brave and strong. The changes you've made to your house have all been to make me feel like I'm not leaving anything behind. But you see, I'd leave it all to be here with you."

Sliding his arms low around her waist and gathering her closer still, he nuzzled her nose.

"I'd give you the moon if you asked for it."

"I'd settle for a shower. Join me?"

He tucked his face into the gentle curve of her neck and hummed against her.

"Yeah," he husked. "I feel like celebrating."

VIII It is My Mission

Christmas arrived and with it, the Raydor children. Sharon was thrilled. It wasn't often she saw Emily for both Thanksgiving and Christmas in the same season. Neither of her children were surprised to find their mother and brother at Andy's home. While not completely moved in, they were each bringing over what they needed, a little at a time. There was no rush. Sharon wasn't planning to sell, thinking Jeff or Rusty might like the condo at some point. Perhaps even Ricky, if he chose to relocate down the line. He could work from anywhere.

The tree was up. There was a wreath on the door and candles glowed throughout the house. When Sharon and Andy finally crawled in at the end of a long, frustrating case, they found music playing as well.

Sharon sighed at the sight. What a picture they made, her three, his two. Their five combined children were there, three in the cozy living room stringing popcorn. Eating popcorn.

Gifts were tucked neatly beneath the tree, decorated since the weekend following Thanksgiving. It was how Andy, Sharon, and Rusty celebrated their decision to join forces. Rusty had been her biggest worry. The condo was, after all, the only real home he'd enjoyed. Sharon wasn't certain how he would react to the possibility of moving in with Andy.

It shouldn't have surprised her that it was Andy who paved the way. What did surprise her was, he did it the morning after Thanksgiving. Rusty had known it was coming before Sharon even broached the subject.

Andy stood in the kitchen nursing a cup of coffee while he waited to flip the pancakes cooking on the griddle. Rusty found him there when he tiptoed downstairs the morning after their first family Thanksgiving.

"Morning, Andy," he said, Jack's appearance still heavy on his mind.

"Morning, kid. Sleep okay?" he asked, handing him a cup.

"Eventually, yeah," he said, taking a sip. "Ricky snores."

Andy chuckled as he padded across the kitchen in his T shirt and lounge pants.

"Mom sleep okay?" he asked, still somewhat uncomfortable with any discussion that alluded to the fact his mother was now sharing her boyfriend's bed.

Andy set his cup on the counter and scrubbed his palm across his face.

"Yeah, eventually. I thought she was just putting on a good show for dinner, but she was really okay. We talked for a while, then went to sleep. She's still out and I figure that's a good thing. I wanted to talk to you anyway."

Rusty set his own cup down on the bar and eyed him.

"Okay," he said, dragging out the second syllable. "Everything alright? Did I do the right thing yesterday, Andy?"

"You did exactly the right thing, Son. There was no good way for that to go down. At least he went home without much fight. I just wanted everything to be perfect, you know? You guys, my kids, all together. I haven't spent Thanksgiving with both of my kids since Sandra and I split, Rusty. Jack may have interrupted it, but he couldn't ruin it, not completely.

"Look kid, I've loved having you guys here this week. I've loved having you both stay over from time to time this last year. It's started to feel like our own little family, you know?"

Rusty looked at him, unsure of where the conversation was heading. Still, he listened. One thing he had learned over the last few years, Andy Flynn would be straight with him.

"I know you both love the condo. Sharon loves it because she bought and decorated it. There are things about it that bring her peace, which is really saying something when you consider what we do everyday. You like it because it's your first real home. You're safe there. You can be yourself."

Rusty settled on his barstool and remained quiet.

"I've tried to make my house a place where Sharon finds peace. The things she likes most about your place, I've tried to recreate here, in one way or another. I also think, at least I hope, that you feel safe here. You've got the loft upstairs with plenty of space to spread out. You don't have to share a bathroom with your Mom," he chuckled, bringing a smile to the boy's face.

"I'd like you both to come and stay," he said directly, if not confidently. "Make our own family."

Rusty sat and thought about what he said. He pictured the pool Andy had installed, he'd said, for the grandkids, for the property value. Rusty knew better. The stars he'd helped him hang. All for her. The flowerbeds Andy was already prepping along the back fence. For Sharon. Then he thought about the way he'd stepped in the previous evening to try and separate Sharon and her kids from an historically unpredictable Jack Raydor.

Jack never thought about what Sharon wanted or what she needed. He certainly didn't care what Rusty thought. Hell, he only even showed an interest in his own kids if he found something to gain in it.

Then there was Andy, the surly lieutenant who, on the outside, acted like he barely tolerated most people on the best of days. Rusty had come to discover that was just a persona developed over time. He'd been screwed over as much as the rest of them. Still, he kept opening his home to his girlfriend's children, because he wanted her near and it made her happy to have them close. Andy always put her first.

Rusty hoped to get a place of his own somewhere on down the line. Not anytime soon, but someday. So, the question was really, where did his mom want to be when he was no longer living with her. He liked to think she wouldn't be all alone.

"What does Sharon say? I assume you two have already talked about it," said Rusty, his voice even, free of the snark of his early days among them.

"We have," said Andy. "I asked her to think about it when we were away last weekend. Your mother might make a dozen split decisions in the blink of an eye at work, but when it comes to personal matters,"

"She has to sit on it," Rusty finished. "She makes actual pros and cons lists," he added, rolling his eyes. "So, what did she say?" he asked, knowing exactly how his mother felt about Andy

"You can ask her yourself, kid. I meant what I said yesterday. I don't speak for Sharon. But I'm talking to you because you're every bit as important here."

Andy heard movement in the room across the hall. She was up and going. He gestured toward the back door and stood to walk outside. Rusty followed him and they stepped out into the cool California air.

The pines filled the air with a spicy freshness, the gentle gurgling from the pool like music.

Andy eyed the sky overhead, the color of cornflowers. It would be a fine day to be outside.

"What I'm trying to say, Rusty, is I'm not just asking my girlfriend to move in and just accepting that her kid will come along. This is not that." He turned and leaned against the stone wall at his back. "I'm saying I want you to come too. I like seeing the mix of clothes in the laundry. Mine, Sharon's, and yours. I like working in the kitchen and hearing your games over my head upstairs, or the thud of the bass from your music. I like having you here. You. It's been quiet in this house too long. I like having you both. So yeah, I talked with your mom. Now, I'm talking with you, 'cause you matter too."

"Andy?" they heard from inside.

Sharon followed the sound of their voices, the feel of the draft from the open door, and found them on the patio.

"Good morning," she said with a smile. "You two okay out here?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

"Absolutely," said Andy. "It's going to be a beautiful day. Just look at the sky. We were talking. Didn't want to wake anyone."

Sharon crossed the patio, kissed her son's cheek, then stood beside Andy, taking his cup and stealing a sip of his coffee. "Hmm."

"There's plenty more," he said. "I'll pour you a cup. How about I bring breakfast out here? Pancakes should be ready."

They all shared a look of interest. Rusty smiled and nodded.

"I think it's a good idea," he said, eyes on Andy. "A really good one. And you're right. I think it's gonna be a good day."

Andy smiled in return, then excused himself to fetch breakfast.

Sharon stepped closer to the pool, closing her eyes and taking in the scent of the pines.

"Isn't it simply dreamy out here?" she said, almost to herself. "It's just marvelous. I could stay here forever."

Rusty strolled toward her, hands in pockets, and let his eyes follow hers. Gazing toward the sky, he took a deep breath.

"Then I think that's what we should do. Stay. Unlike Sandra or Jack, we've been invited."

"Merry Christmas, Mom, Andy!" Emily said at their arrival. "Your holiday has officially begun."

"Supper's ready," Rusty called from the kitchen.

"We thought we'd kick off the holiday with dinner at the table," said Nicole, emerging from the kitchen with a pair of platters. "Baked fish and vegetables. Bread from the market, since I don't bake my own, like Dad."

Andy removed his blazer and hung it by the door. He took Sharon's next, and did the same. Both of them toed out of their shoes before padding their way to the table. As their children joined them, they took their seats at the festively decorated table. At its center, a vase filled with blossoms, flowers of every variety, carved from different grains of wood.

"The place looks great, Sharon. I like the way you've blended your things in with Dad's," said Nicole. "It all works together well. The colors and patterns just fit. They complement. Like you guys."

"Thank you, Nicole. It's slowly coming together. It's only been a few weeks, but we're not in any rush. Rusty is pretty much all moved in though."

"I just wanted it done," he said. "I didn't have much to start with either," he said, shrugging. "I moved my stuff while they were at work, along with whatever Sharon had boxed up. No big deal. I've got more time off than she does. She doesn't need to spend what little time she gets packing and hauling stuff."

Sharon looked at her son, no longer the frightened boy who had come to live with her. He sat taller, more sure of himself, more at peace than she'd known him to be. He had a place to call his own and now, a family too.

They filled their plates and brought one another up to speed on the weeks since their last visit.

Emily was off until after the new year, but would be heading north with her brothers to visit their grandparents a few days before flying back to New York. Nicole's boys would be over the following day, but were currently visiting their birth mother's parents for the evening. She and Jeff would have dinner with their mother for Christmas Eve but, for reasons they weren't going into, Arthur hadn't been mentioned. Ricky surprised them with the news that he planned to stay in town for a few weeks.

All in all, they looked to have a delightful week ahead. Their children were choosing to be there, together. They were making the effort to compete the picture their parents were creating. Having spent a fair few hours together, without their respective parents, they'd agreed that none of them could remember seeing either of them happier, more content with themselves. Even in the midst of difficult careers, challenging ex-familial relationships, they found comfort and peace in a simple look.

Even now, with jokes tossed about the room as they wrapped gifts and traded stories of Christmases past, a wordless conversation was occurring between the two. A tilt of the head, a curve to the lips, a sparkle in their eyes, all conveyed the utter joy found in the home and family they were creating. Her favorite time of year, their dearest and best gathered near.

Andy was certainly glad he'd been bold enough to be straight with her. Now they were sharing a home, combining a family. As he thought about the small velvet box buried beneath the socks in his top drawer, he took a deep breath and smiled a little brighter. Another discussion was on the horizon.

Andy reached for her hand, drew it to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. "Merry Christmas, Sweetheart."