He could hear the phone ringing off in the distance, but this did little to rouse Andy Flynn from a deep, dreamless sleep. He rolled to his right, expecting to pull her tightly to his chest, but Sharon's side of their bed was cold and empty. The phone began ringing relentlessly, yet again. Stretching, Andy groaned, realizing his phone was still in his jacket pocket, hanging on the blue club chair across the room. Making no effort to hurry, Andy ran his hands through his hair and over his face, a soft smile tugging at his lips as his mind flashed back to last night and how beautiful Sharon was. She never ceases to amaze him.
Easing from the bed, Andy was almost to his jacket when the phone sounded again. Looking at the screen, he rolled his dark eyes, noting each missed call was from his best friend, Lieutenant Provenza. Andy finally hit "Accept" with a grunt. "For the love of god, Provenza, do you know what time it is?
"Apparently, I should be asking you that," Provenza shot back. "You do realize your lovely fiance has been here since the butt crack of dawn."
"You've got to be kidding me," Andy muttered, squinting at the clock, but he knew Provenza wasn't.
"We've got another situation brewing, and you need to get down here pronto. You and I are up next in the Chief's office."
"Up next? What..." Andy started but was interrupted by Provenza.
"Mason called Sharon to his office over an hour ago. One of Stefanie's neighbors died last night, and this whole case is snowballing as we speak. Now hurry up and get your ass down here!"
Chief Mason stands at the window, coffee in hand, staring out over downtown. Sitting across from his desk, Sharon smooths her hands over a thick manila folder resting on her lap — filled to the brim with notes, photos, and timelines.
"I read your preliminary report. This neighbor… Kemper?"
"Lydia Kemper." Sharon keeps her eyes on Mason's back. "Lived in the mansion next to Stefanie's. Widow, old money, private staff, high-end security system. She died of natural causes — Morales confirmed maybe five minutes ago. But…" Chief Mason finally turns to face her. "That doesn't mean her death isn't useful to someone."
"How so?" Mason sits, still cradling his coffee mug.
"Stefanie said Lydia was… an odd one — her words, not mine. She had exterior cameras — full coverage of a large part of the neighborhood. And she was the kind of woman who kept things. Notes, routines, photos. If anyone suspicious was lurking near Stefanie's property…" Sharon meets his eyes. "Mrs. Kemper would've seen it. And kept a record."
Mason leans back in his chair, gears turning. "You're thinking Russo?"
Sharon stands, placing the packed folder on the corner of Mason's desk, and begins to pace.
"I'm not thinking anything yet, Chief. I'm simply following a trail. But if he's working with Bishop — or Hickman — then yes. He has access. How else could he know about Bishop's old undercover persona? He has motive. And Lydia's death creates a very convenient silence."
Mason folds his arms and stares at her. "You want someone to go inside Robbery-Homicide."
"Yes," she breathes. "Quietly. You know as well as I do, we can't use PSB. The wrong person hears a whisper, the whole thing implodes."
They eye each other for several long seconds. She finally sits, smoothing her black pants.
"I take it you have someone in mind?"
She hesitates — just for a beat. "Andy."
Mason lifts an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. "Flynn? The guy who just made a scene in the squad room last week?"
"Exactly."
"I'm assuming Russo and Andy have history?"
He watches as her jade eyes blaze brighter. "They all remember how we used to fight. Most of them still think we shouldn't be together — that Andy's gone to the dark side," she adds with a faint smile. "Russo was always a flirt, more so than Andy was back then. And, that's saying A LOT! Andy had his own set of problems he was dealing with. Drake was younger- slick, ambitious, maybe too smooth for Andy's taste. He was passed over for a promotion around the time I moved up in Internal Affairs. He stills holds a grudge and blames me that he is still stuck in RHD. He's cocky enough to buy into Andy turning on me. If we stage another argument — big, public, maybe even make it look like he's walking out for good — they'll buy it. No questions asked."
Mason sets down his coffee. "Isn't the wedding in a matter of weeks?"
"We'll pretend to cancel it. Cancel the whole thing."
"Sharon, you'd be giving up your—"
She stops him with a look.
"Chief, I've given my whole life to ridding the LAPD of people like Bishop, Hickman, and countless others. If Russo is in with them, I have to be able to—"
"Okay," he nods slowly. "One last question: you trust Andy not to blow his cover?"
"I trust him with my life."
Moments pass before Mason nods again. "No one else knows. Not Provenza. Not your team. You pull this off, it could bring down the whole ring. You slip up — and Flynn's in the lion's den, alone."
"He can handle it." Her voice is calm. She doesn't bat an eye.
Mason studies her for a moment longer, then gives the faintest nod of approval.
The blinds to her office are drawn. The rest of the floor is quiet — just the low hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional footstep in the hall. Sharon stands near the window, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. Andy leans against her desk, watching her.
"You sure about this?"
Jade meets chocolate brown, "No. But it's the best play we've got. You're the only one Russo won't see coming."
He watches her a beat longer, then crosses to her and lowers his voice. "You really think I can still sell being the guy who used to hate you?"
She shrugs, her voice soft, "You used to be very convincing."
He winces slightly, then smirks "You're really gonna make me call you the Wicked Witch in front of Provenza?
"He'll enjoy it more than he should."
She steps forward, her fingers smoothing the pale yellow of his tie. "With Andrea's help, I've arranged for Rusty and Ricky to fly to see Emily tonight. All they know is something important is happening at work and we need them safe."
They fall into a comfortable moment of silence — hearts heavy.
"You know this is gonna hurt, right? Saying those things. Pretending like none of this— (he gestures between them) —matters?"
"It does matter. That's why it'll work." She steps closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "They'll believe it because they remember how it used to be. Before we knew better. Before we trusted each other."
"And now?" the sadness in Andy's eyes is palpable.
"Now I trust you to do what needs to be done. Even if it kills me to watch you walk out."
Andy reaches for her hand. Squeezes it. "I'll be back before you know it. And when I am, we're taking this whole damn thing down. Russo. Bishop. All of it."
Sharon nods, "Just… don't forget whose side you're on. Even when they make it easy to slip back in."
His signature grin fills he's face, "You think I can't fake being a bitter, sarcastic pain in the ass?"
She leans in, brushing her lips softly against his. "I know you can. That's what worries me."
They hold each other for one more moment — just long enough. Then the mood shifts. Game faces on. Tomorrow, the act begins.
The bullpen is alive with motion in the late morning hours — files shuffling, phones ringing, coffee brewing. Provenza leans over Julio's desk with his ever sarcastic commentary. Buzz is typing at his workstation. Amy walks past with a stack of folders.
When the door to their Commander's office opens. Hard. Sharon storms out, face tight, clipped heels echoing across the tile floor.
Andy follows, close behind, his voice sharp and rising. "Oh, come on, Sharon! Don't you think you're being just a little dramatic?"
She whirls on him, "This is not drama, Andy. This is me refusing to keep covering for your lack of judgment!"
Blinking, Provenza stares at the sight before him, "What the hell…?"
Everyone stops. Even the phones seem quieter. Amy freezes mid-step. Julio exchanges a wary glance with Buzz. Mike pulls his earbuds from his ears to hear what's going on.
Andy moves closer to her, pointing his finger. His tone mocking, "Oh right, because you're the paragon of good judgment. Let me guess Commander Poppins — you're going to run this unit the same way you ran Internal Affairs? Witch hunts and ultimatums?"
Sharon's eyes flash. That one hit. "I trusted you. I brought you in on something sensitive, and you turned it into another ego trip!"
"Oh," Andy scoffed, "You mean I didn't agree with you. That's what this is really about."
"No, Andy!" Throwing her hands in the air, "What this is really about is that I can't work like this anymore. Not with you. Not like this!"
A stunned silence falls over the room.
Andy looks around — sees the whole squad watching. Amy looks heartbroken. Buzz is quietly picking his jaw up off the floor. Julio is on the verge of standing, wanting — no needing to do something.
Andy steps inches away from her, "Well, that's good to know. I guess everyone was right — I should've never tried to be part of your world. I knew deep down, I would never meet up to your standards, at least not for long."
He yanks his badge off his belt and slaps it on his desk. "I'm done!" And just like that, he turns and walks out. "Fucking Bitch!" he mutters just as he passes Provenza's desk. Never pausing he rounds the corner and is quickly out of sight.
Sharon stares after him for a long moment, then turns back toward her office without a word. Her expression is unreadable — but her hands are clenched in tight fists at her sides.
Provenza turns to Julio, "Ye Gads! What in the holy hell was that?"
The blinds are still open. Sharon stands behind her desk, arms folded tightly across her chest, spine rigid. She's not looking at the door — but she knows he's there.
It creaks open anyway.
"Commander?"
She doesn't move. Doesn't look at him.
"Lieutenant, do I look like I want to talk right now?"
He studies the woman before him, "No. Which is why I know you probably should."
He steps inside, slowly, cautiously. Not the usual gruff, grumbling Provenza — but something quieter, more careful. He's searching her expression, but she won't meet his gaze. "Look… I've seen you and Flynn go at it a hundred times. But that? Out there? That wasn't a fight. That was a damn meltdown."
Sharon turns toward him slightly, her face unreadable. Cold. Controlled. — A face he hasn't seen in years, come to think of it. "It was personal. I'd prefer it stays that way."
"Look, Sharon..." Provenza moves to the front of her desk, "He's my best friend. And you — you've become family to me and Patrice. She's going to lose her mind when she hears what happened. You two canceling the wedding… I mean, what am I supposed to tell her?"
Sharon's mask slips for just a heartbeat. She swallows — hard. "Tell her… sometimes people grow apart. Even people who love each other."
"Bullshit! You don't just grow apart a month before the wedding. And you sure as hell don't throw your badge on a desk over a lover's spat."
She looks away, jaw clenched.
Provenza steps closer, "Whatever this is — whatever you're trying to protect us from — you're not doing it alone. Not again."
Sharon finally looks at him, her jade eyes darker than he's ever seen, "You don't understand-"
Provenza cuts in, "Then help me understand, damn it! I watched that man turn his whole life around for you. I watched you learn to trust again — finally letting someone in, all of us in. And you're both better for it. You think I'm just gonna stand here and pretend none of that mattered?"
Her throat tightens. She opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Finally her voice is barely a whisper, "Please, Louie. Don't ask me to lie to you."
That stops him. His face shifts — a flicker of realization, a trace of pain.
"So this isn't real?"
She doesn't confirm it. She doesn't deny it, she can't. "You have to let it go. For now."
The silence between them is thick as a winter's fog. He leans in closer, his voice low, "You better bring him back safe."
She finally looks at him — really looks at him. And for a second, her eyes say everything she can't. Her voice catches in her throat, "I will."
Provenza nods once. Then turns to leave, slowly. Stopping just inside the door, "You're not the Wicked Witch, you know. Not even close." And he softly shuts the door behind him.
Sharon stands alone in the silence, her composure cracking — but only just for a moment.