Part 1: It's Good to See You Again

The coffee shop was close to Parker Center – which is what he wanted. He was trying to make it convenient for her. Both kids were, no, one would be in day care; the other would be in school. Or at least that's what he figured. Maybe both kids would be in school.

The thoughts running through Andy Flynn's mind set him on edge. Truth be told he was surprised Sharon Raydor actually answered her phone. Given the fact that he hadn't tried to get into contact with her since the night they yelled at each other loud enough to wake up her kids and the neighbors, he was genuinely surprised. Even more so that she accepted his invitation to get coffee.

Plain and simple: he was nervous.

Coming around the corner, he saw her immediately. The purse perched on her shoulder, her attention pulled by something happening at the end of the street. Her hair had grown out since the last time he saw her. He still could find her in a crowd.

The woman checked her watch. He checked his. He had five minutes left until the time he said he'd be there. But never the less he went to her – drawn to her, really.

Tapping her on the shoulder, Andy stood at a fair distance behind her. She spun around surprised and it faded immediately but the caution stayed in her eyes. An occupational hazard for the life of a cop. Never let down the defenses because someone would always take advantage of it.

"Hey," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Shall we?"

Sharon nodded and stepped closer to him. He suppressed a smile as he opened the door for her, listening to the bell above it announce their arrival.

If he had to bet on her hip was her gun, the other side was her badge. She walked like a cop. She looked like a cop. She was standing straight, her held up high, her attention focused on the room around her, listening for anything that might seem out of the ordinary.

Whatever it was, maybe she was distracted, or trying to understand what was happening, she jumped at the light touch against her lower back. All Andy was trying to do was have her move forward enough for the kid with the tray full of someone's food to get through without knocking her in the head. She tensed. He felt the ripple of muscle in her back.

"How are Ricky and Emily?" He asked, deciding that having a conversation about her kids was safe. It would put them back onto familiar ground. Or at least he hoped.

"Good," she nodded, taking a step forward when the line shifted. "Emily is going to be starting second grade and Ricky is going to be started kindergarten."

"Finger paints and math," Andy smirked. "The joys to be a child."

They shifted forward again. The café

Andy ordered his drink, as did Sharon, who was pulling out her wallet to pay.

"I got it," he said, shaking his head. When she continued to pull her wallet out, he stopped her.

Gently and carefully he covered her hand with his. She tensed again. But she wasn't as surprised this time. She did bristle a little.

"Next time you can buy." He said, handing the woman a $20. He was giving Sharon a smile as he accepted the change and shoved it in his pocket.

Andy let Sharon lead to a small table in the corner near the window. She curled her leg up on the chair, sitting on it. Habit he figured in order to hold a crying Ricky or a pouting Emily. He had seen her do both.

"So," she said after taking a sip of her latte. "Work is good?"

He nodded and wiped the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. Transferred to Priority Homicide last year."

"Robbery Homicide used up their resources?" she questioned. It was because of Robbery Homicide that they met.

"I started to go to meetings," Andy said. "Every Thursday night I'm in a basement of a church or a school and the first thing they tell us it to try something new. So? I transferred."

"Doesn't make it easier."

"Not at all," he said. "But letting go of the past is healthier than holding on to it."

"So why am I here?"

"Because I wasn't the one to let you go," he subtly accused.

Andy Flynn had spent the last two years fighting his demons. He went to AA every Thursday, promising to himself that he would get better. That he would be better. The nights when he felt that it wasn't worth it, that a shot of something, anything would make him feel better he'd think back to the days that were good. The mornings when he'd wake up and have the body of someone he wanted there next to him. The idea of having that back again was enough to put his wallet back and to walk past the convenience store.

"How are your parents?"

He never met them. Almost did. Was going to, but things happened and he found himself at the bottom of the bottle instead.

"Fine," she said, sighing. "My Dad had a heart attack last year. He passed away."

Andy looked up from his coffee with an apology on his lips. It was an automatic response. Occupational hazard.

He figured she had enough people telling her how sorry they were that her father was dead. The last thing she needed was him telling her he was sorry. What was there to be sorry for? He didn't induce the man to have a heart attack.

He knew she was close to the man. Her father was her hero. The way she went on about him, the way she got a spark in her eye when she talked about him. It was unlike anything he ever saw on her.

"My mom took it hard," she offered. "Emily didn't understand and Ricky just played with his toys the entire service."

"Wish I was there with you." He said. Not as anything but a friend.

"Jack was there," she said and now it was Andy's turn to bristle.

The two men used to be friends. They had met from time to time having a drink and Jack was the lawyer of one of Andy's suspects from Robbery Homicide. Sharon and Jack had been fighting in the lobby of the building and that was how Sharon met Andy. As one of Jack's friends.

Jack raced Andy to the bottom of the building and while Jack was chasing his life down the drain, Andy was chasing the man's wife into bed. They had lapsed into a full-fledged affair. She was leaving her kids with her husband who, knowing what they knew now, probably put the beds to sleep and drank until he passed out.

"We're separated now." Sharon said, offering another piece of information for him. "Legally. On the basis of potential child endangerment and alcohol abuse."

Andy nodded. "You filed?"

She nodded. She checked her watch and then gasped. Sharon finished off her coffee and then gathered her purse up and stood.

"Ricky has a half day today," she explained. "I have to pick him up from school before I get Emily."

Andy pushed his chair back and stood. "Of course."

"Are you sure I can't pay-"

Andy shook his head and put his hand up, silencing her.

"I got it," he said honestly. "Cup of coffee isn't going to ruin my bank account."

She didn't look convinced.

"Sharon, really, it's fine."

She nodded and then looked down at her purse and then the table, like she wasn't sure she should believe him.

When she looked up she gave him a small smile. "Thank you."

Andy bowed his head. He watched as she maneuvered her way around the tables, reaching into her purse for her car keys. The bell chimed above the door and he began to gather his things.

She stopped at the window, still rummaging through her purse, looking for her keys.

Nothing could accurately describe what went through his mind at that second. Desperation? Probably. Need? Definitely. But Andy Flynn took the chance and chased her outside.

"Sharon," he said on a breath.

When she turned the time stood still. He was standing outside the coffee shop with her. Like the last two years hadn't happened. Like this was a breakfast date that he left for work just to see her.

He took a step closer and she didn't move. She didn't tense up, she didn't bristle, her skin didn't ripple at his touch when his thumb swept the bone of her jaw. She looked up at him, the flat shoes she wore to chase her children around giving him height. He took advantage of it.

A hand at the back of her neck pulled her forward and time stood still. Soft, quiet, calm was words to describe the moment when he gave into temptation and kissed her.

They fell into familiarity when his thumbs brushed under jaw and her hands fell to his hips. They deepened the kiss on a sigh and he pulled her closer. The honk of the car down the black snapped them back into reality and her hands went from his hips to flat against his chest where she gently pushed him back. They created distance. They had to in order to maintain some semblance of sanity.

"Same time next week?" she questioned.

"Give me a call," he said handing her his card. The number had changed. "I might have a case."

She took it and took a step back. "I have to go."

"I know," he said. "Give me a call, Sharon. I'll answer this time."

She nodded and turned, walking away, the card still in her hand. He waited on the street until she got in her car and pulled away from the curb, disappearing into the traffic.

No one ever said life was simple. No one ever said life was going to be. It was going to be hard and life would throw curveballs and expect you to do one of two things with them. Knock them out of the park or strike out. Three strikes and you're out. Out fighting and fending for yourself against the demons that, in Andy's case, was addiction. He just opened up the door and invited them back in.

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