Title: Such Is My Life

Pairing: The Closer - Raydor/Flynn

Rating: M for language, sexual situations

Such Is My Life

"Hey batter, batter, your Momma said to say hi!" Provenza, well into his fourth beer and second dog, yells out from mid-way up the third base line. Beside him, also decked out in Dodger blue, Andy Flynn rolls his eyes as a smile forms.

"You really need some new lines," he chuckles, taking a sip of his bottled water.

"Hey kid, bring me another," his partner waves down the beer vendor while pulling out his wallet. "This drinking for two has a monetary downside, but at least the seats were free."

"Drinking for two?"

"Just consider this your chance to live vicariously through me," Provenza smirks, handing the vendor his money while taking the beer, "Nothing like a cold brew and a sunny day at the park." He holds up the plastic cup, which Flynn taps with his bottle as the two toast the day. "Alright, batter, swing baby swing, just like I did your momma last night."

Flynn laughs, "You know he's from Nebraska right?" His partner shrugs. "So how many hot models have you seen come from there?"

"Flynn, you're not supposed to get into my head, but his," Provenza waves him off before taking another gulp from his beer. "Oh, hello," he chokes out after catching the sight of a buxom blonde a section or so over. Flynn gives her a once over but shakes his head.

"Nah, barely legal"

"Not illegal to look."

The crack of the bat draws their attention back to the game and the men to their feet as the foul ball comes sailing over their heads. They turn to follow the path, catching sight of a pair of teenage boys at the ready. The taller of the two grabs the ball with a barehanded clasp that makes the detectives wince.

"Damn, tough kid," Flynn says, averting his gaze back to the field as he takes his seat. Provenza, however, is still staring at the boy. He flicks his gaze to the big screen, getting a better view of the kid.

"Uh Flynn, you keeping secrets?"

"Huh?"

"I thought I knew all your kids."

"You do, now sit down before you make me miss the next pitch."

"You sure Jesse isn't here today?" Provenza asks as he reluctantly sits, but he can't keep his gaze from the row about two sections over.

"If my kid was here, don't you think he'd be sitting on the other side of me begging to get away from you?"

Provenza purses his lips in a mocking expression. "Fine then, but did you see that kid?"

"It was a great catch."

"I'm not talking about the catch, Flynn. That kid looked like you."

"Ok, I'm cutting you off," Andy quips, reaching for Provenza's beer.

"Hey, I'm not drunk. That kid, up on the screen, Flynn, he looked just like you." He gestures to the jumbotron, now back on the pitcher as he readies to throw.

"Sure, another one of my lost children."

"Joke if you want," Provenza stands, scanning the area around them. When he spies what he's after, he darts up a few stairs to a man holding a pair of binoculars. "Can I borrow those?" The man hesitates, so Provenza whips out his badge. "LAPD, just need them for a moment."

When he returns to their seats, Flynn has his head in his hands. "Can't I take you anywhere?"

"Height, check, hair," he glances from the binoculars to his partner, "check, eyes…damn…don't these things zoom?"

"Really? Can't I just watch the game?"

"I'm telling you, Flynn, this kid…woah wait a minute, oh now that's a beautiful sight."

Flynn looks up at Provenza with a mixture of shock and wariness, and a hint of disgust. "I will take your beer away."

"Hello, momma," the older detective catcalls. "Well, now if that is your kid, and that's his mom, well I can't fault you for keeping her a secret." Provenza is drooling when he winks at Flynn, Cheshire cat grin at full wattage. Flynn, at his limit with his partner's teasing, grabs the binoculars away and uses them to see what his friend is going on about. He finds the kid, shifts his gaze slightly and sees what caught Provenza's attention.

Talking to the kid is a woman with her back to them. Brunette, hard to tell her age, but if she is the mom Flynn is sure she's more legal than Provenza's blonde bombshell, and that is good news. Because like his partner, Flynn's gaze moves down from her Dodger blue jersey to her blue denim skirt and her very long and very attractive legs. He lets out a low whistle.

"I know right, hello come to papa and all that," Provenza smirks. Flynn shifts his gaze back up her body, seeing the back of her head as the ball kid nods at her. He does look a little like his youngest. Flynn guesses the kid's about fifteen, dark hair, gangly body but good looking. "You see it right? He looks like Jesse, doesn't he? Could be his twin if not for the age difference." Flynn shrugs but starts to see what Provenza is getting at. The kid does look familiar.

"Now you can say what you want about Nebraska, but if that kid got his looks from his momma, and if that is his momma, well I think we should move a few rows closer, you know."

"Holy sh—" Flynn gets a jolt when the woman turns round. The sight of her makes him pale, the hand holding the binoculars going limp. Provenza, confused by his friend's sudden mood shift, grabs up the glasses as Flynn slumps back down in his seat.

"Oh my…it can't be," Provenza's eyes widen as his stomach feels queasy. "The wicked witch? I almost had a, but those legs, how the hell can it be? That's just wrong." He joins Flynn, slumping down in his own seat. The binoculars' owner taps his shoulder. "Hmm, what do you want?"

"You done, I mean I really do—"

"Here, take 'em," the dejected detective tosses the glasses to the man. "Sharon f-ing Raydor? What the hell?"

"Yea," Flynn sighs, a sudden headache hitting him, "what the hell."

"Flynn, you and Raydor, I mean if you did, well the legs but…"

"I need to go to the john," Flynn starts up, the need to get away from Provenza as strong as a nagging feeling ripping through his inners.

"Sure, ok, and um could you, you know while you're up and all, get me another?" his partner holds up his nearly empty beer.

"Fine, yea." Andy waits until he's out of Provenza's sight before glancing in the direction of Sharon Raydor and her kid. "There's no way," he whispers before shaking his head and walking to the head.

Fourteen years ago, Andy Flynn was a different guy; in fact, he was a total wreck. Most days he'd wake up with a hangover just to grab a beer or whatever alcoholic beverage he happened to have within arms reach to get through the morning. As soon as his shift ended, he hit the bar and he hit it hard. He knew the guys blamed his ex for his relationship with the bottle and, to be honest, part of it was because of her. When the fighting got to be too much, heading to the bar was a welcomed relief. But once the marriage crashed and burned, Flynn made up different excuses to keep the liquor flowing. He didn't see his kids enough, the bodies were hard to forget, the weather didn't please him, and on and on. The saying in AA is that a person has to hit rock bottom before sobriety can begin. Flynn's bottom had been a straight plummet, a head first dive into a chain of events that started one night over fifteen years before at the annual police officers' ball.

"Lt. Flynn, do you care to take part in the conversation?"

Flynn shakes his head, stands up from his desk and falls back into his job, pushing aside the memories of his life before he was sober. He didn't know why, but since the ballpark, he'd been reliving that time. "Sorry Chief, the vic, a uh Travis Martin, was last seen coming out of a downtown club at 2 a.m. three nights ago."

"So the kid belongs to the Wicked Witch after all. Daniel Raydor, just shy of sixteen, and the youngest of her three."

"Since when are you so interested in Raydor's kids?" Flynn hands Provenza a coffee as they walk back toward the tech room.

"Curious," the detective shrugs. "Plus I saw one of her FID guys this morning on the way in. Just thought I'd ask, you know, in case you were wondering. I know some things from that time are still cloudy."

Flynn stops short, mid-sip of his coffee, fighting not to choke. He swallows hard, clears his throat and wipes at his chin, all the while flashing a death glare at his partner. "There is no way in hell! You seriously need to get a new obsession." Not intimidated in the least, Provenza laughs.

"Come on, Flynn, I don't think I could do it now," Provenza's gaze wonders as he contemplates the thought, "Although she does have some gorgeous legs, but all that ice in her veins. Hell, I bet she's got a leather suit and a whip just waiting for any poor unsuspecting fool." Flynn winces his eyes shut, another headache threatening. "I know, I know, it isn't the best thought."

"Then change the subject."

"But I'm just saying, you said yourself you can't remember much from those years. And even if she was a hard ass, well she did have a hard—" Provenza grins and raises his brows up in a 'you following me' gesture.

"Have you been drinking?" Flynn scowls, brushing past him and into the tech room. Provenza follows him in, determined to continue the conversation, but Flynn is already talking to Buzz. "This our guy?"

"One of them. Chief is about to go in."

"Even though she was a hottie back then she was also a hellcat. You'd had to of been wasted to go there."

"Enough," Flynn spits out through gritted teeth, the image of Sharon Raydor and those long legs wrapped around him, while not an entirely unpleasant thought, was certainly not a welcomed one at the moment. He hated the woman, well perhaps not full out hatred but something in that realm.

"Want to let us in?" Tao turns round from his seat by Buzz to look at the two men.

"Have you noticed the legs on Raydor?"

"Yeah, what a waste," Buzz remarks, punching at his keyboard as the Chief walks into the interrogation room, "Oh here we go."

"What got you thinking about Raydor? She's not breathing down our backs again is she?" The line is too good for Provenza to pass up and Flynn knows it, but before his partner can make a sound, Flynn looks at his coffee in disgust.

"Which one of you made this? It tastes worst than Taylor's."

"Mr. Cruz, I'm Deputy Chief Johnson and I have just a couple of questions for you…" the guys settle down as the Chief begins her investigation.

It's past midnight when Flynn falls into bed. He's dead to the world a second after his head hits the pillow. Deep in REM sleep, Flynn sees himself in a hotel room wrapped in the arms of a woman. Her soft hair, dark brown with hints of red, brushes against his chest. He grips her hips, groaning when her nails dig into his shoulders. Flynn feels all of her - flushed skin, wet kisses, and even the shift in the mattress she creates as her knees press against the bed - as if this isn't just a dream. She makes these breathy little cries that turn into commands as she reaches her climax. He smirks, tightening his hold on her hips to prolong the moment. He's drunk, because this is a younger version of himself, and being drunk was the norm for this Flynn. He can taste the alcohol in her kisses, so he knows she's drunk too. They're sloppy, their balance off, but it doesn't matter. When she looses her balance and falls to her side in a fit of laughter, he follows her, settling between her thighs. Her sexy, throaty laugh has him bracing on one arm so he can push that long dark hair out of her face to see her eyes.

Andy Flynn's eyes pop open, his mouth incredibly dry. "No fucking way," he groans at the remembrance of the dream. "Provenza, you bastard!"

By dawn, Flynn is on his third pot of coffee. He takes a sip, staring at the notebook in front of him. Moments after waking from the dream, he grabbed the book and wrote down everything he remembered from it. In full investigative mode, Flynn's doing what he does best – tracking down leads. Of course, he'd given a few moments of thought to the idea that all it was all just a dream brought on by Provenza's dumbass cracks. But it was too real, too familiar.

"This is screwed up," Flynn slams down the notepad, running a hand through his hair. "How the hell could I have slept with? Oh shit, the kid." He slumps down on his worn out couch, huffing out a disgusted sigh. Flynn closes his eyes, desperate to recall as much as he can about that night so long ago. After hours of running over the scattered memories again and again, he doesn't have much to go on, other than her face. That face, which no matter how much he tries to change it or deny it, never changes. He can't remember the details, but he's positive Provenza's ribbing hasn't influenced his dream. Nope, he knows for a fact that he slept with her. "Sharon fucking Raydor," he spits out her name, fury building inside him. Why had she never said anything? Deny the sex, fine, but if that kid – Daniel, right? If that kid was his… Flynn glances at his watch and grabs his jacket. Knowing Raydor's strictness, she'd be in by now, and she certainly has a lot of explaining to do.

"Danny, get a move on," Sharon yells toward the stairs as she grabs her jacket and briefcase. Coffee tumbler in hand, she does a last minute check in front of the foyer mirror while waiting on her sleepyhead of a son to tromp downstairs. "Let's go," she calls again, holding out pack of pop-tarts when she hears his steps on the landing.

"I'm up, I'm moving, stopping yelling," he yawns out in rhythm with his heavy footsteps as he comes down the stairs. Dressed in khakis, t-shirt and hoodie, Daniel has a good foot in height over his mother. She grins, ruffling his hair out of his drowsy green eyes.

"You're getting that cut today right?"

"Mom, really? This again?"

"Daniel, I don't care if the latest trend is to have your hair in your eyes like a girl. Do you want to look like a girl?" Her son frowns, grabbing the pop-tarts from her and wrapping whatever comeback he mutters around the food. "Today, I mean it."

"Fine. I'll get it cut after school. Are you working late?"

"I don't think so, but if something comes up…"
"You'll call, I know. Did you schedule my driving exam?" He shuffles to the door, holding it open for her.

"Um, about that." She pauses, waiting for him to settle into the passenger side before continuing. "I thought it would be a great opportunity—"

"No, Mom," Danny huffs, tossing his hair from his eyes before reaching for his seatbelt.

"You haven't even heard what I was going to say."

"I know what you're going to say and no. He hasn't come to any of my games this year, so why to you think he'll remember to show up for that?" Sharon backs out of the garage, hits the 'close' door button, and pulls into the street, all the while contemplating her response. "And you can stop trying to defend him. Sometimes makeup babies just don't bring on the makeup. It's cool, okay; I've dealt with it. You just need to get over it also."

"Excuse me? Makeup baby?"

"Really, Mom, I've done the math. You and Dad," Danny says, his voice dripping with sarcasm on the word 'dad,' "had a little fling before calling it officially quits. I'm good. I have you, Lily and Kate so I'm good. If Dad doesn't want to be around, screw him."

"Daniel!" Her son sighs heavily, turning to look out the window as they drive toward his school. She could again go into the speech about how his father really does love him and would be around more if he could, but they both know it isn't true. Rick's communication began to dwindle the day after he left them high and dry. "Fine, then I won't call him, and I'll set up something today. Do you have money for lunch?"

"I'm covered. Oh, the guys want to go out tomorrow. Is that cool?"

"Who, where and how much?" she asks, not taking her eyes of the road.

"Matt, Tyler and Drew, to a movie and $20." He turns to catch her eyeing him before he rolls his eyes. "It's PG-13, Mom, I swear."

"You remember I'm a cop right?"

"You don't let me forget it."

Sharon smirks, pulling up beside her son's school. "Fine, but home by—"

"Curfew, I know."

"And get your hair cut!" she yells out as Daniel walks away. He tosses up his hand as acknowledgement. Sharon smiles, thinking her kids turned out all right despite their dad being one of the biggest jerks to walk the earth. Glancing at the clock on her dashboard, Sharon shifts her Aston into gear. If she wants to make it downtown before the worst of the traffic hits, she's got to get a move on.

While Sharon Raydor may not give him any credit for it, which truthfully he couldn't give a rat's ass about what she thinks anyway, Flynn thinks he deserves a small medal for giving her the chance to get fully in her office before showing up for their unscheduled meeting. Arriving earlier than anyone other than the janitors, he'd asked Becky at reception to give him a call when Raydor got in. Then he'd waited a good five minutes after he got the call that she was in before heading to the elevator and up to FID.

Sharon hangs her bag and jacket on the hook just behind her door. At the sound of a light knock, she barely gets out a "just a minute" before the door swings open. Thankfully her reflexes are good and she dodges out of the path of the door. "Excuse me," she starts, then frowns, "oh hello, Lt. Flynn."

Andy tries hard not to glare at her, but he can feel the blood rushing to his ears. On the way up, just the thought of her holding out on him, of keeping his kid, yea probably his kid, from him made him all the more angry. The little voice of reason in his head that sometimes squeaked out a warning was shouting at full blast at the moment, however Flynn gave no weight to it. Emotions fully in charge, he spits out the first thing that pops into his brain.

"I don't know what you were thinking, but I'm calling you on it. If you think I'm going to let you get away with this any longer—"

Sharon holds up her hand to silence him, sidesteps the detective and closes her office door. She gives him a hard stare before walking toward her desk. She doesn't sit, knowing that doing so will infuriate him even more over whatever he's decided she's done. Instead, she continues to stand, allowing the desk to be a buffer between them.

"Now, Detective, if you'd like to start over by maybe explaining what it is that you think I've done that would be welcomed. Because I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. Seeing as all my paperwork with Major Crimes has cleared, I'm not sure as to why you have stormed into my office." His eyes go harder, which Sharon hadn't thought possible until the second it happens. She lifts her foot to take another step back, but fights the urge. She didn't get into her position by showing weakness, and she isn't about to show the slightest hint of unease to Detective Lt. Andy Flynn, one of the biggest alpha males in the precinct.

"Oh you'd like it to be business so you could dismiss me and toss me out on my—" Flynn stops himself, making a desperate attempt to regain his composure. He always did have a way of putting his foot in it when he let his emotions rule him. He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice, "You and I have matters to discuss. I don't think we should do so here, but I have things to ask you and you will answer my questions."

Raydor crosses her arms, her chin going up in her little condescending way. "Oh I will?"

"Yes, you will," Flynn says, eating up the space between them in two methodical steps. "If you want to keep our little secret a secret, then you certainly will." His words, full of venom and not lacking in substance considering the conviction in his gaze shake Raydor. Confused, she inadvertently takes a step back. Flynn advances with her, coming around the corner of her desk so there is nothing but air between them. "I know the truth, Sharon," he hisses out her name so hard that his breath brushes against her hair like a breeze.

"The truth?"

"Tonight, 6 p.m. at O'Grady's. I'll give you this chance to explain away from work. If you don't show—"

"You better consider your next words very carefully, Lieutenant. I've been very patient with your conduct here, but if I were you—"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know what happened. I remember what happened. And if he's mine and you kept him from me!"

"Kept? Excuse, I don't know what you think you know, Lieutenant." Flynn ignores the complete confusion in Raydor's face, waving her off with a sideways glance to her door. Movement catches his eye, letting him know her officers are coming in for work.

"Police officer's ball, 1994. Think it over and I'll see you at O'Grady's tonight," Flynn says, contempt plain in his words. "And I'd advise you to carefully consider showing up." Silent and working hard to control her anger, Sharon Raydor watches the Lieutenant flash one last glare at her before leaving her office.

If she were in a giving mood, she'd give him credit for not slamming her door on his way out. But instead, the second he is gone, she falls into her chair, her emotions welling to the surface. Anger, fear, confusion and dread flow over her all at once. The Police Officers' Ball in 1994? What the hell was he going on about? Sharon racks her brain, trying to remember what possibly could have happened between them during that time to make him so angry. However, before she can give much thought to Flynn's outburst there's another knock at her door.

"Yes?"

"Hi Captain, there's been an incident."

"Where Jimmy?"

"Twenty-first and Lex. Officer making an arrest had another perp circle back. Blows exchanged but backup helped him get the second one into custody."

"Witnesses?"

"Suspect's family."

"Great," Raydor sighs, "this is going to be such a fun day."

"Want me to drive?"

"That'd be great, just let me grab my coat."

Once inside the car with Jimmy, Raydor is swept up in her latest investigation. She makes several phone calls to locate those arrested, one in lockup and the other at Cedars. Between coordinating her officers and examining the police officer's dash cam video, her morning and most of the afternoon is fully devoted to clearing the rookie cop. Thankfully his dash cam was working and caught everything.

"I love it when it's cut and dry," Jimmy says after their third viewing of the video.

"Let's get the report typed up and I want copies of that video." Raydor looks at her watch, thinking if she hurries she can get everything squared away in time to get the video to the media for the early evening edition. "The sooner this is out the better."

"That mother was very vocal. I saw channel 12 interviewing her."

"I know, we need to get them a copy right away. Jimmy, I want you to stay here and wrap things up. I'll get Sarah to drop me at the station. If I hurry I can catch Commander Thomas and have this cleared up by 6." The mention of the time makes Sharon pause; Flynn's summons hitting her like a mental slap.

"Captain, you ok?" Jimmy asks, noticing Raydor going suddenly pale.

"Um, haven't eaten much is all," she says, waving him off as her early morning confrontation replays in her mind. "Sarah, let's go," she moves from the rookie officer's car and toward the silver Crown Vic belonging to Sarah.

Raydor is silent on the drive back, but Lt. Sarah Mathers doesn't mind. She focuses on the road, giving her captain some peace, not knowing there is turmoil raging behind Raydor's jade eyes.

"1994, Officer's Ball…" Raydor runs over the phrase in her mind as she stares out the passenger side window. On her lap is a file folder, which she occasionally flips through to prevent Sarah from thinking she's in a talking mood. But her mind is no longer focused on her case, a fact that contributes to her growing annoyance and also anger at Detective Lt. Andy Flynn. How dare he ambush her like that! For all she knew, he had hit the bottle again and used her as a scapegoat for some twisted regret he'd conjured up while in his stupor. But he didn't smell like he'd been drinking, Sharon points out to herself. She sighs, a tension headache forming.

"You okay, Captain?"

"What, oh I'm fine, Sarah. Could use some aspirin."

"Glove box. Want me to stop for water?"

Sharon catches the next street sign, noticing they are about twenty minutes out from the station. "No, I'll make it, thanks."

"So, I hear Danny's getting ready for his driving test. I didn't realize he was almost 16."

The mention of her son brings a smile to Sharon's face, "yeah, some days I can't believe it either."

"My baby brother's a summer baby, so he's already begging to drive anytime one of us has free time."

"Daniel is a fall baby."

"95? Right, when you were pregnant? Man, that was a hot summer."

"1995," Sharon blanches, "the officer's ball in 1994…was it in December?"

"Wouldn't know, Captain. I was just in training," Sarah replies, but Raydor isn't listening, her mind already clicking together the threads of evidence.

With her mind reeling, Sharon has to struggle to get her report finished and to Thomas. However, compartmentalizing is a specialty of hers, as well as delegating. It helps too that the case isn't a difficult one for her to get through. As soon as Thomas signs off on the video, Raydor leaves it to Sarah to get it to the media before heading out. She holds her emotions in check until she is in the parking garage and in the privacy of her car. Sharon leans her head on the leather steering wheel, allowing the memories of that crazy year to return to the forefront of her mind.

Lily was ten, Kate just about to turn eight, and her marriage had finally reached the breaking point. When Danny had quipped he was a makeup baby, he wasn't wrong. She'd been vulnerable at Christmas, and Rick had actually showed up to spend it with the girls. A little too much nostalgia and a little too much wine, combined with Rick's charm, and oh he could be so charming when he wanted out of the pre-nup. The clear light of the next morning along with a massive headache had slammed her back into the reality of the hopelessness of their situation. She knew Rick could never change and that their time together was over. It didn't stop her from wanting to reach out to him a few months later when she could no longer shrug off the missed periods as anything other than her being pregnant, but it did prevent Sharon from doing a head dive into a total meltdown. Instead she picked herself up and decided having a nanny for a while wasn't such a bad thing. Thanks to her inheritance from her Grandmother du Pont, Sharon had the means to do as she pleased career wise.

But the implosion of her marriage couldn't be what Andy Flynn was going on about. She barely knew him back then.

"The Police Officer's Ball…what happened at the ball…" Sharon sinks lower into the driver's seat of her car, tossing her head back against the headrest. She has a tight grip on the wheel, her eyes closed shut as she blocks out everything to concentrate on that night. The ball was in early December that year, she remembers, because it wasn't until a couple of years ago that it was moved to before Thanksgiving.

She'd had another round with Rick that day, his lawyers working overtime to get him out of the pre-nuptial agreement her father had wisely insisted that she make him sign. She remembers that Jameson, her hairstylist, had worked overtime to pamper her into a better mood. Jameson was the only reason she tolerated the flashy events being a part of her family required her to attend. The ball was not nearly as a highbrow affair, but the stress brought on with the political maneuvering at such an event seemed similar.

At some pointed she'd settled at the bar, deciding a daiquiri sounded nice. Then she'd had another and started feeling a bit more relaxed. She was debating a third when one mysteriously appeared.

"He sent it," the bartender had explained with a nod down the bar. "Too pretty to be drinking alone, I think he said." Sharon smirked, tipping the glass toward her admirer before taking a sip. The drink was a little stronger, or she just didn't have as much tolerance for liquor. She really wasn't much of a drinker anyway. A cocktail here and there when required, perhaps wine now and again with dinner, but that was all. The beep of a nearby car being unlocked startles Sharon. Glancing up, she catches her reflection in the rearview mirror. She'd been in the lady's room, her head feeling light. She'd decided to call it a night, head up to the room she'd rented for the evening. When she came out, he was there, waiting.

"Wanna get out of this zoo?" He'd asked, a lopsided grin forming as he caught sight of her room key. She'd said something she thought was clever and he'd chuckled in reply. It was more than nice to have an attractive man laugh at one of her jokes. When he'd offered her his arm, she didn't hesitate. In the elevator up, he'd loosened his tie, and she'd noticed his suit was an old one, fraying some at the cuffs, but he looked good in black. It brought out his eyes, rich and dark.

Sharon gulps back a cry as a wave of nausea rushes over her. "No, no, no," she murmurs, catching the reflection of her panicked eyes in the mirror. The images, once unblocked, hit her in waves – the sloppy kiss that started in the elevator and continued well into her room, his suit on the floor along with her dress, their drunken laughter, passionate cries, and such a restful sleep afterward. Head in her hands, Sharon thinks her brain will explode. "It couldn't be, that night it didn't happen. It didn't…" Sharon stares at her reflection, knowing she can't lie to herself any longer. One look at the clock pulls a curse from her lips. Sharon takes a deep breath, turning over the ignition and shifting into reverse, knowing exactly what she has to do now.