A/N: I swear, I don't know what I'm thinking, trying to work on two multi-chapters at the same time. I must be nuts. Anyway, this is really is a songfic, in spirit, anyway. Although I'm also working on a Brenda/Andy fic, I really, really like Andy and Sharon together. They strike fascinating sparks off each other. Hope they get together in "Major Crimes." So here's Sharon, wondering why she's fixated on one Andy Flynn. Set during and after "Old Money" 6-11. I think Andy getting attacked had to have brought out strong feelings in Sharon and Brenda. I touch on that in "Rescue" and it was such an interesting thought, I decided to play with it a little more. Oh well, preliminaries out of the way, enjoy the show and remember: reviews are writer's crack! We loooove them! So by all means: R&R!
Disclaimer: I do not own or operate "The Closer," or "Here You Come Again."
Chapter 1: A Man on Her Mind
Here you come again
Just when I'm about to get myself together
You waltz right in the door, just like you've done before
And wrap my heart around your little finger.
Here you come again
Just when I'm about to make it work without you
You look into my eyes and lie those pretty lies
And pretty soon I'm wondering how I came to doubt you.
All you gotta do is smile that smile
And there go all my defenses
Just leave it up to you and in a little while
You're messing up my mind and filling up my senses.
Here you come again
Looking better than a body has a right to
And shaking me up so, that all I really know
Is here you come again and here I go.
Written by Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil (performed by Dolly Parton on her album by the same name, RCA Records).
Why couldn't she ignore him? She ignored almost every other good-looking male in the LAPD. Why couldn't she just not notice him? He had to know what he did to her. He had to know that, when he clicked one of those winks at her, she turned to mush inside. That's why she had to preserve her tough outer armor, her cool exterior. Otherwise, she'd be all over him. Every time she caught the scent of his cologne, fresh and masculine, she could feel heat flood her veins.
Captain Sharon Raydor slammed Lieutenant Andrew Flynn's personnel file on her desk. She had to open up another investigation with a member of the Major Crimes crew. Well, two investigations: an officer-involved shooting, and one for coercing a witness. Both involving Flynn. "Dammit Sharon," she said aloud, though softly, "You've got a crush on this man. At your age, of all things." But he had looked so vulnerable in that hospital bed that she wanted to volunteer to stay the night with him. When he collapsed in the paramedic's arms last night, she almost fainted, too. Her angry, "He'd better wake up!" was born out of the fear that he might not.
What the hell was wrong with her? She hated Flynn! Well, she tried not to hate anyone, but she certainly didn't count Andy Flynn high on her list of favorite people. So it was completely shocking, to say nothing of unwelcome, to realize she wanted to kiss the fire out of Andy Flynn and do unspeakably indecent things to him, and with him.
Of course, Andy was upset with her today. It was no wonder he growled at her when she had to treat him like a criminal. He could have died last night, but she had to investigate him, as though he had done something wrong. She had clutched his personnel file to her chest as he got in her face, as though it could protect her from his anger and frustration. What she had wanted to do was take his handsome face in her hands and reassure him she would make all this go away. That's when she knew he had somehow, gotten under her skin in a bad way.
Had he really coerced Floria Stenzel? Sharon highly doubted it. Andy generally didn't have to coerce women to do anything. As obnoxious as he could be, he could also charm the birds right out of the trees, if so inclined. All he had to do was turn those dark eyes on a woman, give her a soulful look and they turned to goo. Just like she did. She wished interviews then had been taped. If she could just go back and look at the tape, it would clear Andy of intimidation, she was certain. Besides – she had spoken with Ms. Stenzel. Sharon was doubtful that woman could come up with something like that on her own. Brenda was probably right. Rick Zuman had, in all likelihood, arranged to pay her to change her testimony. There were days she despised her job, and this was one of them.
"Thank you, Detective Sanchez. I'll be there in a few moments." Sharon hung up the phone as a knock sounded at her door. "Come in," she said.
The door opened and Andy walked into her office. Immediately, Sharon's heart turned upside down. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" she said. Even with one arm in a sling and his coat slung over his shoulder, he managed to look impossibly dashing.
He said, "I wanted to apologize, Captain. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that yesterday. No sleep, stress. But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize, Lieutenant. I completely understand. You don't expect an accusation like that after the night you had. I want you to know I didn't want to open that investigation. But I had to."
"You're doing your job. I know."
Sharon looked at Andy's face. His color wasn't good. "Lieutenant, I can tell you're wearing yourself out. You don't need to be here. The Chief would have a fit."
That got a wry grin. "I want to find out who Chief Johnson sees. I want to know if that's the guy from my AA meeting."
Sharon sighed. "You are too stubborn for your own good, Lieutenant. But, you can stay until you identify the suspect. Then, you go home. Direct order. Got it?"
Then, Andy did what Sharon was afraid he would do: he winked at her. "Yes, ma'am. And Captain? You're really hot when you're being the head wicked witch in charge." With a devastating grin, he left her office.
Sharon rested her elbows on her desk, head in her hands. "Oh, dear heavens," she said. That wink had turned her insides to jelly. And he said she was hot? Her face flamed red. "And blushing – at my age. I am so pathetic."
Sharon didn't see Andy again for about a week. Brenda had firmly insisted he stay home and recuperate. When he got back to work, the sling was gone, but he was still not moving quite as easily as he normally did and was favoring his left arm. He could drive, but if the squad rolled out to a call, he'd leave the driving to someone else. Brenda was making noises about confining him to his desk until he was getting around better, but he promised her he'd leave the heavy lifting to the rest of the squad.
When they did catch a case, Brenda peered at him. "Lieutenant Flynn, I'd like you to stay here with the phones." At his indignant look, she continued, "Because this suspect has been calling in his next moves. If he calls, we want him to think we're blissfully ignorant of what he's been doing. And that way, you won't be tempted to overdo it and wear yourself out."
Andy rolled his eyes expressively, but said, "All right, Chief. I'll stay here."
"Thank you," she replied. She walked by his desk to get her purse and said, low, "I know this is hard on you, Andy, but I need you healthy, O.K.?"
"O.K.," he answered.
He was catching up on long-delayed paperwork when a movement caught his eye. It was Sharon. "Hiya, Captain. Squad's rolled out and left the lame duck here. What can I do for you?"
A loaded question if ever there was one. Still, Sharon took a deep breath and attempted to ignore how Andy's aqua shirt set off his skin and hair. Why did he have to do this to her? "Hello, Lieutenant. How are you feeling?" She walked to his desk.
"Oh, I'm all right. Still sore, but that's the way it goes. I'll have a hell of a scar on my side," he answered.
"I thought you probably would, judging from the size of that bandage the paramedics had on you when I saw you."
"Yeah, my sister is going to freak out when I tell her about it. Good thing my ma's passed on. She'd have had a heart attack when she heard. And then insisted on coming out here to take care of me." Andy shook his head.
Sharon smiled. "Moms are good for that. Well, since Chief Johnson isn't here, I'll catch her later."
"I'll tell her you're looking for her. She'll be so thrilled," he said with a wicked grin.
"I'm sure she will be," Sharon answered with a chuckle, and turned to go.
Andy caught her hand. "Hey, Captain? Thanks for not hanging me out to dry."
Sharon looked at Andy's hand covering hers. Suddenly, she couldn't speak, or not well. "I did my job, Lieutenant. You had done nothing wrong."
"You haven't always believed that," he answered, stroking her hand.
"That's why I investigate, Lieutenant."
Andy stood, still holding Sharon's hand. His brown eyes bored into hers. He was only a couple of inches from her. She could feel the heat from his body. He raised his opposite hand, and ever so lightly, brushed her lips with his thumb. "Hey Captain."
"Y-yes, Lieutenant?" Sharon croaked.
"Have a good day, all right?" He winked at her, a half-smile on his lips. Those lips that Sharon desperately wanted to kiss. He dropped back down into his chair.
"You do the same, Lieutenant," she rasped. But he still had her hand in his. She tugged it, but Andy slowly raised her fingertips to his lips and kissed them softly, then released her hand.
At that point, Andy Flynn could have told Sharon Raydor to strip, paint herself blue and run naked through the building and she'd have nearly done it, if it meant he kissed so much as her fingertips again. She nodded at him, walked back down the hall and made for the safety of the elevator. Once inside, she remonstrated sharply with herself. "You can't fall for that man. He's trouble. Trouble with two ex-wives. He's obnoxious and a loose cannon and a one-way ticket to the nuthouse." She was the only one on the elevator, so she felt safe speaking aloud. She leaned against the wall and breathed. She could still feel the touch of his thumb on her lips – of his lips against her fingertips. "I wonder what his mouth tastes like," she mused, then, "Stop it! Stop it! You will not do this! This is positively adolescent!" But that's how she felt – like a 15-year-old when the senior guy smiles at her.
Once she got to her office, Sharon made herself examine when, exactly, she started noticing Andy Flynn was more than a 200-pound annoyance. She considered. Maybe when she had followed the squad around when Brenda was still up for chief of police. It was the most time she had spent with any of the crew, in a one-on-one kind of situation.
Well, to be fair, she had always known, intellectually, that Andy Flynn was a good-looking man. She remembered when his hair had been dark, with just silver at the temples. "And when I didn't have nearly as many crow's feet," she said, ruefully.
Her staff usually ignored Sharon's thinking out loud. She did it all the time, and it was normal for them to hear her murmuring to herself. So they ignored it. Fortunately.
In her opinion, Andy's looks had just improved over the years. Salt and pepper hair looked good on him. She heard all the AARP jokes the younger officers made, all the senior citizen discount cracks, the early bird special digs they made at him – and at her, if the truth were known. She didn't care. Who said life had to end at 50? She was a couple of years past that milestone, and so was Andy. But he could – and did – still turn the heads of the young female officers. She knew if Andy wanted to, he could probably take his pick of nearly any woman in the LAPD. But he was a little too professional for that.
"I've been isolating too much. I need to get out more. That's what this is. Just old-fashioned loneliness and boredom," she said. "Just stupid infatuation. I certainly won't give in to it again. How silly of me." Having thus pigeonholed her desire to rip Andy Flynn's clothes off, she shook her head and started on her own pile of paperwork.
Andy, for his part, was wondering what had possessed him to make any kind of move on Sharon Raydor. But unless his radar was just gone haywire beyond all repair, she was broadcasting some strong vibes. Sharon was a striking woman. Her looks were too strong to be called "pretty," but she was very attractive. She caught the eye, for sure. He snickered. He had thrown her into complete confusion, and it had been fun. He'd have to try that tack more often, if it got her out of the murder room so quickly. Maybe dinner. Maybe more.