Sharon POV

Things are going to be normal.

It's been my mantra since yesterday afternoon, when Rusty stood in my office and said, "Tomorrow, I'm going back to school. And I'm going to live the rest of my life as if Phillip Stroh didn't matter…"

This bold statement came after he resolutely declined protection detail, and as much as it terrifies me, I'm also so proud of his determination to live his life, and his dogged resistance to fear.

So no matter what I think this week is going to be, normal is my goal.

Because it's what Rusty wants. What he needs.

In spite of the fact that there's a man out there who wants to kill him.

I shoved that last thought from my mind because I can't do normal if I'm thinking about that, and then with fresh resolve, I looked at myself in the mirror, finishing the last touches of make-up before leaving for the office.

It's going to be a normal week, I thought again, only this time with more tenacity.

Rusty and I are committed to maintaining our routine, such as it is.

Work for me, school for him.

And the routine went smoothly until Monday afternoon. That's when I decided to leave work a little early, so that I could get home ahead of Rusty. I wasn't going to, but I was sitting in my office, thinking about the dimly lit parking garage of our building, and the ease with which Wade Weller managed to gain access, and then the next thing I knew, I was giving direction to Lieutenant Provenza as I breezed past, on my way out the door.

Andy called me as I made the drive home. I knew he would, since I left without so much as a goodbye.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

I paused before answering because he didn't deserve the harsh reply that was on the tip of my tongue.

"I mean, other than…" he added, his voice filled with compassion and understanding.

I sighed heavily, delaying words again because I suddenly felt like crying, and saying something out loud might open the flood gate.

His whispered Sharon caused a tear to slip out and I just feel so tired and afraid and I hate that I don't know where Stroh is hiding.

"It's fine," I finally managed to say, letting my anger over Stroh's escape override my upset. "I just thought I should be there when he gets home. I know I can't do it every day, but I was just doing paperwork, and if something happened to him while I'm initialing witness statements…"

That would probably just about kill me.

"We're going to find him," he soothed.

"Yes, but when?"

"I don't know, honey," he admitted. "But until then, we've all got your back. We've got the kid's back."

We spoke for another minute or two, and it was only after we hung up that it hit me.

He called me honey.

He's never done that. We don't have pet names for each other.

We're not there.

Are we?

I don't know anymore.

I arrived home to a danger-free parking garage, and then I did a sweep of the lobby and confirmed that the handful of 11x14 wanted posters sporting Stroh's picture were still posted prominently, in the entryway, the elevator, the halls…there won't be a repeat of the fox sneaking into the henhouse.

Not if I can help it.

After my vigilant checking and double-checking, I went upstairs so that I could be calmly making dinner when Rusty arrived, and if he was suspicious about my presence so early in the evening, he didn't comment, and the rest of the night passed with amazing normalcy.

On Tuesday, Rusty has class later in the day, so I planned to work a full day and still make it home before him, but a last minute meeting held me up. I drove like a woman possessed, but when I pulled into the garage, I saw Rusty's car already there.

As well as another familiar car.

"Lieutenant Cooper," I greeted with question as I approached his open car window.

He looked sheepish for a split second, and then nodded and said, "Captain."

We shared a long look and then I flashed him a grateful smile before turning and heading for the lobby.

Amy must have asked him to come, I thought, and as the words rolled through my head, my cell phone rang.

"I didn't realize you'd left," Andy said when I answered. "I meant to catch you when you got out of your meeting."

"To say goodbye? Andy you know that sometimes…" I began, but he interrupted gently.

"To tell you that you didn't need to hurry. That Rusty would be fine."

"Oh," I responded in surprise. "Oh, so you…"

"Didn't do a thing," he finished, and I swear I can hear his smile. "Because Rusty didn't want security, so there isn't anyone in the garage to make sure that it's safe. Not tonight, and not tomorrow when it's time to leave, either."

"Got it," I said, and now I'm smiling, too. "Andy, that's so…"

I left that sentiment unfinished, because voicing words like sweet or thoughtful might make it seem like it was a personal favor, rather than a professional one.

And it is, I know.

I mean, the idea that he went to the trouble of arranging to have people here, that Rusty's safety seems as important to him as it is to me…well, that's very personal, and it makes me feel things I'm still not ready to acknowledge.

Because I'm not dating Lieutenant Flynn.

Especially not right now. There's too much going on, too much to think about.

I can't add Andy into the mix.

"So you're home, too? Safe and sound?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered as I stepped off the elevator onto the eleventh floor. "Well, almost. I can see my door, does that count?"

"How about you talk to me until you're inside?" he suggested.

So I did. Actually, after putting him on hold briefly to give Rusty a casual hello - as if I hadn't been worried, since it's such a normal week - I continued talking with Andy as I took off my jacket and shoes and then poured a glass of wine.

And then we talked another twenty minutes after that.

About nothing in particular, but it was nice. Soothing.

Maybe I've already added him into the mix.

By Wednesday, I felt more relaxed, and the day almost did seem normal.

Until I got home.

I arrived to find Andy in the condo. He and Rusty were pulling take-out from bags and setting it on the table. Funny that Andy would be here, considering he asked to leave work an hour early for personal reasons.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled and shrugged me off, and then flicked his gaze a couple of times in Rusty's direction before asking about his classes. His body language was easy enough to read, and I could wait until we were alone before getting an explanation, so I slipped out of my shoes and gratefully accepted the glass of wine that Andy held out to me, and then the three of us sat down to dinner.

Afterwards, Rusty headed for his room, and after clearing the dishes, Andy and I sat down on the couch.

"Coop got held up with a case," Andy explained quietly. "I haven't worked out a good rotation yet, so I picked up the slack."

"So you were in the garage when Rusty got home? And he wasn't suspicious?"

"I was carrying bags of burgers and fries. I'm not sure suspicion entered into it," he said with a grin.

"This is…Andy, this is really above and beyond."

"Above and beyond what?" he asked, and it suddenly felt like we were talking about a whole lot more than Rusty's protection.

"You're my…I'm your…we're…"

I gave up talking when I realized I couldn't finish any of those statements, and I dropped my gaze down to my lap, unable to maintain eye contact when he's looking at me like that. Like he cares about me. Like he wants me. Like he's thinking about kissing me.

I think the only reason I can't look is because if I do, he'll see how much I want him, too. How much I care about him. How much I want him to kiss me.

And I just can't.

"We're your family, Sharon," he said and when I continued to avoid his gaze, his tone turned slightly resigned as he added, "We're all in this together. Me, Provenza, Tao, Sanchez, Sykes…even Buzz is helping. He accessed campus security so that he can watch remotely during the day."

Emotion flooded through me at my team's willingness to help, even as the rule-lover in me had to ask, "I hope you made sure that Buzz got permission to view that footage."

I finally brought my eyes up to his, and he flashed me an amused smile as he said, "Come on, you think I'm new at this?"

His remark had me smiling back at him, and we sat there like that for a moment, and then he looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he caught himself and instead got to his feet.

"I'll leave you to your evening," he said, moving towards the door without waiting for my response.

I got up to follow him, and I called out his name. I wasn't sure what to say along with it, but I just knew that I didn't want him to go.

He turned back and looked at me, studying me with a quizzical look on his face, and I suppose that's fair.

He wants to know what we are to each other, but so far I've only sent mixed signals.

We were going to talk about it. About us. After Rusty so perkily laid the evidence out in front of us, in front of Nicole, we let a couple of weeks pass, and then we said we needed to talk about it.

But I procrastinated.

Mostly because I like spending time with him, but I don't want to talk about it.

Just because I get that heady feeling rushing through me when I look at him, that mixture of excitement and anticipation, doesn't mean it's a good idea. I mean, maybe if my life were different, if I weren't the boss, and if Stroh weren't on the loose, and if I weren't too old to be considering something like dating.

And as I stood there staring at him, and with that feeling nearly overwhelming me, I decided that maybe I am ready to acknowledge it, even if only to explain it away.

Because I am his boss, and I am concerned about Rusty and I am…well, not old, but certainly sliding down the backside of middle aged, so there must be some other reason why my pulse races when he's around. Why my temperature rises and my stomach flutters and why I find myself smiling even in the midst of a crisis.

I'm not sure what that reason might be, but it can't be that I have real feelings for my lieutenant.

But even as I mentally established my denial, I couldn't look away from Andy's eyes, and the trembling in my stomach continued as my refutation was overpowered by another voice in my head, the irrational one that says he's so cute and sweet and funny and he's got the best smile...

"There's no hurry," I said at last. "I can make some coffee."

So he stayed for a couple more hours. It's the most time he's spent in my apartment, and it was relaxed and comfortable, and I felt disappointed when it was time for him to go home.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said as he pulled on his jacket.

I smiled and nodded, afraid to say anything because I've had that feeling all evening, that pleasant, hopeful, buzzing feeling that overrides every manufactured excuse I've come up with…that feeling that makes me want to ask him to stay longer. To stay the night.

And that just can't happen.

He smiled back at me, and then kissed me on the cheek before turning to leave. I stood and stared at the door for several long seconds after he was gone.

"It doesn't do anything on its own," Rusty said smartly, having entered the room while my gaze was still locked on the door.

"Oh, funny guy," I replied as I finally turned away from the door. Rusty was in the middle of the room, just looking at me, so I asked, "What is it?"

"Flynn's gone?"

"Yes, why?" I asked, suddenly wondering if he felt more safe with Andy here.

"Just curious," he said with a casual shrug, relieving my concern. "He stayed awhile, huh?"

"Yes," I answered carefully.

"So does that mean you're admitting it now?"

"Admitting what?"

He stared at me for another beat and then rolled his eyes dramatically before heading back to his room, saying as he walked away, "Oh my God…what does he have to do, Sharon? Spell it out in big, bold letters across the murder board?"

His door closed as he finished his remark, so he clearly didn't expect a response, but that's good because I'm not sure what I might've said.

And how is it that we're talking about me and Andy, with everything else that's going on?

On Thursday morning, I walked with Rusty down to the garage. I was casual in my perusal, looking to see who was on unofficial duty this morning, but I didn't see anyone until after Rusty pulled out. An unmarked unit followed him. I stared after it in surprise, because keeping an eye on my garage twice a day is one thing, but a unit tailing him…

My cell phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a text from Taylor.

I freed up some money in the budget to help keep an eye on the kid.

It was nice of him to say, but there's no spare money in the budget, and we both know it.

Volunteers, I thought. Rallied by my squad, with Andy leading the charge, no doubt.

The warmth over the gesture combined with my sense of relief that Rusty is safe, and I found myself smiling a broad, genuine smile.

A quiet tail, Buzz watching video surveillance, an extra set of eyes in the garage…it goes a long way towards easing my mind. I know we can't go on like this forever, but maybe we'll catch Stroh sooner rather than later.

The rest of Thursday passed uneventful, and I actually got a lot of work done, since I was able to let Rusty slip from my mind for minutes at a time.

Andy didn't come over Thursday evening, but I did offer Amy a discreet wave as I left the parking garage, heading for the lobby.

I had good people when I worked for PSB, but they're nothing compared to my current division. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

"You think maybe you'll sleep tonight?"

That's what Andy asked when I answered his call just as I was climbing into bed. It made me happier than I care to admit that he was calling to check on me.

"I hope so. Because of you," I answered.

Once the words were out, said in a low, husky tone, I realized they sounded suggestive, and I felt the color flood my cheeks as I wondered if he picked up on it.

His extended silence tells me he did.

"I mean, the security," I added at last, sounding as flustered as I felt. "I wasn't trying to suggest…"

I trailed off as he started chuckling, and I had to laugh, too.

"That I wore you out enough to put you to sleep?" he said, causing an abrupt end to my laughter. Instead, an intense heat zipped through me, brought on by the mere suggestion of his words and the detailed imagery that went along with them.

I drew in a sharp breath as I tried to think of what to say, but I came up empty. He was kidding. I know he was kidding, but at the same time, isn't that what I was thinking last night? That I'd like to have him in my bed? So does his joke mean he's thinking the same thing? And why does that thought turn me on so much?

"I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said that," he said quietly after a long silence, and then I felt bad that I was letting the moment get away.

"I don't want you to censor yourself. You can say whatever's on your mind," I said at last. And again, my voice sounds sultry, and provocative, and I didn't do that on purpose, but I can hear it, and maybe it's that we're on the phone, and I'm in the bed, in the dark…maybe it's all of those things that makes me feel brave enough to embark into new territory, one where we actually talk about our feelings.

"You," he said simply, and I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, so I asked, "Me?"

"You're what's on my mind."

And it was his turn to sound sexy, and that heat I felt a moment ago has turned into a raging inferno.

"Oh."

"All the time," he continued. "And I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but Sharon, I'm not going anywhere. And once we get Stroh…"

His confidence in what he feels for me is a little overwhelming, but it's also really nice. I can't remember a time when I felt so wanted.

"We'll talk," I agreed.

"Just talk?" he asked playfully.

"Isn't that what you were going to do? To wear me out, I mean. Because trust me, talking to you can be exhausting," I teased.

He chuckled again, and then said, "Are you sure you don't want me to censor myself? Because I can tell you, if you want."

He was putting the ball back in my court, because this conversation was getting very dangerous. The good kind of dangerous, but still…

"Or maybe I'll wait," he said, interrupting my internal debate.

"For what?" I asked, almost slightly disappointed that he wasn't going to share.

"Until I can show you instead."

I know a lot about Andy Flynn. I know his history, both personal and professional, and I know his quirks and his likes and dislikes, and his sharp sense of humor, and I even know the feel of his lips against my cheek.

But I had no idea he could be so devastatingly arousing just with words and tone. I had trouble sleeping again, only that night, it was because of Andy.

I kept thinking about his implied promise that at some point - soon, I hope - he's going to show me the things he wants to do to me.

And about the fact that - during a time when we were steadfastly not discussing our relationship - we somehow managed to turn it from caring companionship into something much more heated and intimate.

And that I'm okay with all of it.

No, not just okay with it.

Excited and anxious about it.

Although the next morning, I regressed. For some reason, the rising sun was like a flashlight on all of my insecurities. I'm his boss…we're too old to just fall into bed together…and for the love of God, Stroh is still out there somewhere.

"Sleep well?"

It was Andy's voice, right behind me as I got onto the elevator Friday morning. Earlier, I'd watched Rusty drive away from the garage, his secret detail on duty, and I felt a sense of guilt about disregarding Rusty's wishes about security. Not enough to make me call it off, but enough that I was still thinking about it after arriving at work, so Andy's presence startled me.

"Sorry," he said immediately when I jumped and moved away from him.

"No, I was just…my mind was elsewhere," I answered. Making eye contact with him was difficult after our previous night's conversation, so I focused on the floor instead.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said, and then made myself look at him as I said with more conviction, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, clearly confused by my standoffish attitude.

"it's just…it's been a stressful week," I said in an attempt to clarify.

He nodded, and my guilt over Rusty was compounded by guilt about Andy. I don't know why this is so difficult for me. I like him. He likes me. Why does anything else have to matter?

"Why don't you let me take you and the kid to dinner tonight?" he asked as the elevator doors opened, and he gestured for me to get off ahead of him. He followed, easing up beside me with a light hand on the small of my back, and I found myself relaxing just from his proximity.

"You don't have to do that," I said, coming to a stop just outside the door of Major Crimes so that we could finish our conversation. "The protection you arranged seems to be running like a well-oiled machine now."

"Glad to hear it," he said, his soft brown eyes watching me intently, and there it is again, just from the way he looks at me. That feeling. Right here, outside Major Crimes.

"But maybe I just want to spend time with you," he added quietly.

It occurred to me that he's very possibly the most thoughtful man I've ever met.

After our conversation last night, he could have put on the full court press. I was being suggestive, so it would've been understandable for him to think he had the green light.

But he's not pressuring me. And he invited Rusty to go along with us. Partly because I might worry about him otherwise, but also because having my son there will provide a buffer. It'll keep me from panicking over what might happen. And how Andy knows I might panic, I have no idea, but it scares me and thrills me that he does.

"Please?" he asked when I still didn't respond, and his expression was playful as he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to say no. I don't know why I'd want to.

"I have a late meeting, so it won't be five. Can you give me an extra hour?" I relented.

Andy smiled fully and lowered his voice as he said, "I'll give you however much time you need."

Then he winked at me and went into Major Crimes, leaving me to stand in the hall and analyze the layers beneath his words.

He has given me time. He's really asked for nothing from me, all while being a constant source of support and friendship for me, and the majority of that time, I've been in complete and utter denial. How frustrating that must be for him, and yet he's never given me any indication that he's anything but happy with whatever time I offer him.

What does he see in me that inspires him with so much patience?

I have no idea, but I don't like the realization of how one-sided things have been.

And my excuses for holding back are just that. Excuses. We're not too old for sex. We're old enough to be smart about it and for no one to care what goes on inside the bedroom. And yes, I'm his boss, but that can be handled with a quick memo and a tolerance for some juvenile chiding from Taylor. And as for Stroh…I have to agree with Rusty. Life is for living, and we can't wait around until Stroh is caught because what if that never happens?

I ruminated over my bold epiphanies all throughout the day, and by the time we got to dinner, I felt sure that I was right.

About everything.

So as Rusty chattered away about classes and professors and assignments, I eased closer to Andy, moving so that my leg was pressed against his as we sat next to each other in the booth. He glanced at me in surprise, because I'm rarely ever the one to initiate contact, but it felt good, and he smiled at me as I rested my hand on his thigh, and that fluttery, anticipatory feeling rolled through me again. I could barely focus on Rusty's story because it felt like every part of me was attuned to Andy. We stayed like that all throughout dinner, and afterwards, he walked us to Rusty's car.

"So I'll pick you up in the morning?" Andy said to me, lingering near the passenger side door as Rusty climbed into the driver's seat.

"If you're sure you don't mind," I replied. It had been his suggestion as we left the office, that Rusty and I ride together and leave my car at work.

"I don't," he assured me. "This was nice tonight. Thank you."

"It was your idea," I reminded him with a smile. "And you picked up the check. "

"Not the meal…" he began, but then he trailed off for a moment before starting over. "I mean, the closeness. This morning you seemed distant, and I was afraid that our conversation last night…"

He stopped talking again when I went up on my toes and pressed my lips against his cheek. It was my first time kissing him, and it was brief but I still found myself cataloging the feel of his skin and its light covering of late-night stubble. Very, very nice.

"Thank you for dinner," I said softly, enjoying how he was slow to open his eyes. "It was exactly what I needed."

"Text me when you get home?"

"How about I call you instead?"

His answering smile started a simmering heat inside of me, and that combined with the lingering tingling in my lips had me murmuring a hasty good night and climbing into the car.

Rusty smirked at me as he pulled away from the curb, and then he mumbled something that sounded a lot like definitely not dating, but I didn't feel the urge to argue the point, especially since I couldn't seem to stop smiling, so I let the comment slide and the two of us were quiet for several miles, until he looked in the rearview mirror purposefully and said, "I can't tell. Are Heckle and Jeckle back there?"

I looked at him in surprise, a denial on the tip of my tongue, but lying isn't in my wheelhouse.

"You know about that? I'm sorry. I didn't…I mean, it wasn't…I can put an end to it," I finished on a sigh. "If you really want me to."

"Sharon, I told you I don't want to live my life essentially in prison."

I know."

"But," he added meaningfully. "The shadow hasn't cramped my style. And if it's making you feel better about the situation, then I'm okay with it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "It's not like last time, when I couldn't go to the bathroom alone. At least these guys stay out of sight."

I was relieved at both his maturity and his acceptance.

"I really am sorry. I didn't know until yesterday, but I should've told you."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at me as he said, "It's okay, Mom."

He's such a sweet kid.

I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to him.

When we got home, the parking garage felt ominous. I don't know why, because nothing seemed amiss, but my light mood turned instantly vigilant.

And Rusty was right about the detail. They're volunteer, so they don't stick around once he's with me.

"Hang on," I said, putting my hand briefly on his arm, and then reaching for my purse before getting out of the car. I didn't pull out my weapon, but I did get a good grip on it, inside of my purse, as I scrutinized the interior of the garage, and then I exhaled heavily in relief when I recognized the car.

"Julio, what are you doing here?" I asked as I let go of my gun and approached his vehicle.

"I figured this was a good way to spend my suspension, ma'am. "

"Skulking around in my garage?" I questioned, touched by his concern even though I'm still a little frustrated with him. I know he's working on his issues, and he's going to classes but his latest infraction couldn't be ignored, and it put me in a difficult position. In the end, it was better that a swift punishment come from me than a long, drawn-out session with internal affairs, and fortunately I still have enough pull down there to have my word appease their inquiry.

"Ma'am, the tip line fielded a Stroh sighting this afternoon, only a few miles from here," he admitted.

"There have been dozens of reported sightings, " I reasoned, hoping to mask my fear with rationale.

"This was a good one," he said firmly. "I thought I'd make a pass, and since I didn't see either car, I figured I'd wait around until you got home. Want me to walk you up?"

He phrased it as a question, but he got out of the car as he said it, clearly expecting me to agree.

"It's really not necessary," I said, waving to Rusty to let him know all was well.

"I know it isn't, but it would make me feel better."

So I let him come up, where I fixed him a cup of coffee, and we talked for a while, which was actually a good thing, helping smooth out the rough edges between us.

He stayed until around ten-thirty, and then he left, reminding me that his five days were up tomorrow, and he'd be at the office to help in the hunt for Stroh.

Once he was gone, I got ready for bed, and then climbed in, my phone in hand. I had texted Andy earlier to let him know that we were home safely but that I wouldn't be able to call until later, and it caught me by surprise as I settled under the covers to realize that I was looking forward to the conversation.

Normal Friday night, right? Me, spending hours on the phone with Andy while in bed. And he was in bed, too. He admitted that a few minutes into the conversation, so then of course I had to imagine what he looked like, and what he might wear to bed, and we strayed into risqué topics a time or two, but mostly it was just comfortable and intimate and it made me wonder if he likes to talk in bed in person, too, or if - once we get to that place - he's the type to just go to sleep afterwards. The novelty of me will wear off and he won't want to know more about me, he'll just want to sleep.

It's possible, but something tells me he's not like that. It make me curious to find out.

We talked well into the night, and after hanging up, I drifted into a much-needed, peaceful sleep, not stirring again until the alarm went off this morning.

It's Saturday, and we're working so that we can focus on Stroh. Andy's picking me up in twenty minutes and Rusty is sleeping in, and after finishing my hair, I took an extra minute in front of the mirror, thinking about how not normal this week turned out to be.

But not normal in a good way. Because really, if you remove the Stroh factor from the week, it's actually been pretty great.

I ran my hand over my hair once more, and then paused again as I took another second to try to see myself through Andy's eyes.

What does he see when he looks at me?

I don't know, but I think I'll ask him, during our next late-night phone call. I almost laughed when my cell rang, thinking it was Andy and that maybe I'd be brave and ask him a hard question in the light of day, but when I checked the display, I saw that it was Chief Taylor.

On a Saturday morning.

Not normal, for sure, but maybe it's the new normal, I decided with optimism.

"What time is your team coming in?" he asked without preamble.

"Nine. Why?"

"Internal Affairs has taken over Major Crimes. Everyone gets interviewed, and everyone cooperates, is that understood?"

"Yes, Chief, but…what's going on?"

He was silent for a minute but then he exhaled heavily and said, "It's over, Sharon."

His use of my first name threw me so much that at first, his words didn't register.

"Over?"

"Stroh. He's dead."

TBC...