Never Let Me Go

Chapter 1

"Dear refuge of my weary soul,

On thee, when sorrows rise,

On thee, when waves of trouble roll,

My fainting hope relies."

― Anne Steele

A/N: This story comes with a WARNING for subject matter. It deals with the trauma of rape and torture and while I tried to keep out any graphic details, anyone who has issues with that subject or for whom that is a trigger should probably not read on.

A big thank you once again to my wonderful beta RockinRobin B! All remaining mistakes are mine.

If you're looking for someone to blame for the existence of this story, it's Kadi219 who I asked to kill that plot bunny. Instead she shamelessly enabled me and spent many nights brainstorming with me. Thank you, twin!

Another shout out goes to lontanissima for her input and support. *hugs*

The title is stolen from Kazuo Ishiguro. You should read that book, btw. :D

Disclaimer: Not my sandbox, not my toys. I just like to hang out with them for a bit. I'll return them (mostly) undamaged.

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Sharon looked around the Murder Room, a happy smile on her face as she observed the carefree banter of her team. They had just closed a particularly difficult case, which involved a jealous husband killing his wife's boyfriend. Lieutenant Provenza was especially elated, because his prediction of "it's always the husband" had been proven right once more. He was currently trying to convince the others that they had to pay for his drinks later, since he had called it. Andy and Mike ignored him, only smiling into their paperwork at his antics. Buzz and Julio were too busy protesting and Sharon thought it was pretty safe to say that the Lieutenant would win that round. She would even bet on it, if she did that kind of thing. Amy really was the smartest one of them all. She had told them she wouldn't be able to join their celebration, because she already had plans with Cooper. Giving the young woman a closer look, Sharon doubted that Cooper knew anything about those plans at this point.

Before she could vanish into her office to finish her own pile of paperwork, Mike called out to her, asking if she was going to join them at the pub after work. She considered the invitation for a short moment, still not entirely used to being included in these kinds of things. When she finally met Andy's eyes, she had to suppress a smile at his eager expression. She pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly as if she were still weighing her options and Andy seemed to take that as indication that she needed further encouragement.

"Oh come on, Captain. I'll even give you a lift home so you can have a glass of wine."

At that she let the broad grin spread over her face, nodding her head.

"Alright, Lieutenant. That's an offer I can't refuse. Especially since I hear Lieutenant Provenza is buying the drinks from the money he got out of that highly illegal betting pool of his."

She smiled sweetly at the Lieutenant in question, raising an eyebrow that let him know she was aware of the money that changed hands after every case and who was behind it. Around her, Sharon heard her detectives snicker as Provenza grumbled something that, in the interest of a harmonious work environment, she tried very hard not to hear.

The easy way in which they all got along, the light joking and the implicit trust, still came as a surprise to Sharon occasionally. In the last three years, they had grown into a fantastic team and she felt proud and privileged to be part of it, that they were comfortable enough with her to joke and grumble and place bets in her presence.

"Well, if we want to get out of here before the pub closes, we should all get back to work now. Those reports won't write themselves."

Sharon was about to turn towards her office once more when someone else addressed her. Swinging around again, this time with a slightly annoyed frown firmly in place, she faced the unfamiliar intruder.

"Captain Raydor, I've got a message from the DA's office for you."

The young man, an intern from his eager look, handed her a manila envelope and left again, apparently glad to get away from the solid wall of inquiring stares. She looked at the envelope in her hands and tore it open without a second thought, convinced that it would be the paperwork for their latest case. Usually, DDA Hobbs took a little longer to get it back to them, but maybe she was just as anxious to get out of the office as they were.

The first thing she noticed when she pulled the sheets out was the signature that clearly didn't belong to DDA Hobbs. It was the untidy scrawl of the DA himself she saw. Besides, the stack of papers was too thin to be the complete paperwork on the deal they'd just made.

Intrigued, Sharon started to read the letter that was addressed to her. After only a few words, her breath caught in her throat and she felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from underneath her feet. The sound of her pounding heart was almost deafening and black spots started to dance in front of her eyes, as she suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time. She shook her head to clear it, but it only made her feel even dizzier as the walls seemed to close in on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andy approach her, a concerned expression on his face. The thought of anyone, even him, entering her personal space or touching her, made bile rise in her throat.

Lifting a trembling hand to cover her mouth, Sharon hurried out of the Murder Room, the papers slipping out of her grip, drifting on the breeze of her rapid retreat, rustling quietly as they scattered across the floor. Behind her, distant and indistinct, almost as if through a fog, she heard Andy call after her but her need to get away from the prying eyes and the questions that would undoubtedly follow was too great. She needed to get away from the words she had just read, words that pried at a door inside her mind, which she had closed and bolted long ago. Darkness lurked behind that door, a darkness so profound that it had the power to drown her, as it had once before. Running down the hall towards the restrooms, one single thought went through her head over and over again. This can't be happening.

When she reached the ladies' room, the urge to be sick had mostly passed. She stepped up to the sink and held her hands under cold water, letting it run over her wrists and splashing her face with it in an attempt to chase away the dizziness. It didn't work. Bracing her hands against the washstand, she tried to draw air into her lungs, but they stubbornly refused to expand. She felt as if a fist closed around her heart, squeezing hard. Sharon pressed a hand against her chest, trying to ease the pain. On some level, she was aware that she needed to calm down, to focus her thoughts on what to do next. There were issues that needed to be addressed and they just added to the pressure inside her.

Panic, the rational part of her mind declared and immediately provided the necessary steps to combat it. Still, every breath was harder to draw than the last and her vision became blurry again. She knew she would pass out soon if she didn't get a grip, but losing consciousness didn't seem like such a horrible idea at that moment. It would at least give her a moment's reprieve from the encroaching darkness, a short delay on her way down that path she knew only too well.

As the promise of sweet oblivion tugged at her, drawing her further and further away from painful reality, a pair of strong arms closed around her, drawing her into a solid form. For a few short seconds, Sharon stiffened, her body getting ready to fight against the confining hold, but when the familiar scent and the soothing voice reached her, she leaned into him, letting him keep her from tumbling to the ground.