Raydor/ Flynn Fic ~Such Is My Life pt.4
Title: Such Is My Life, pt4
Pairing: The Closer - Raydor/Flynn
Rating: M for language, sexual situations
“I know you’ve had issues in the past,” she calmly begins a few minutes after Andy Flynn brushes past her and walks to the middle of the room, “but if you’ve been, well if something is influencing your behavior.” Sharon swallows hard at the cold hard glare Flynn turns on her. She hesitates, but turns her back on him to close the door. He waits until she’s facing him before he speaks. Sharon takes in his stance. Standing with his hand at his hip, his jacket pushed aside, she can see that he left his gun in the car. Small favors, Sharon thinks to herself, figuring if he does try to kill her it will at least have to be with his bare hands.
“My only issue is that you have been keeping my son away from me for almost 16 years now,” he replies in a thin, furious voice. He covers the distance between them as he speaks, unable to stay away from her when the urge to - Flynn stops a foot away, his nostrils flaring and his hands fisted. For her credit, Raydor doesn’t flinch, well, at least she doesn’t move from her spot a few feet from the door. Her eyes do go wide and she shakes her head in defiance.
“There’s no way, no, it’s not possible,” she says convinced Flynn has gone round the bend. Turning, she reaches for the door. Flynn holds it closed, his hand resting just above her head as she puts her back to the door and faces him again. “Let me out, Lieutenant.”
“You and I have a lot of things to discuss,” he says, his body very much encroaching on her personal space, “and we do, you aren’t going anywhere.”
“You don’t want to do this,” Sharon whispers, letting her composure slip just enough to reveal her growing concern. She looks past him, seeing her purse, which has her gun, too far out of reach. Why did I toss it on the bed, she chastises herself. Flynn grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Stop thinking about it,” he says, reading her far too well for someone she barely knows. But then again, he is a cop, too. “I’m not doing anything to you, Sharon, other than asking you to explain yourself before I start asking other people these same questions. Now, why don’t we have this conversation.” He takes a step back, dropping his hands to his side and taking on a relaxed posed. She notes that he is still between her and her purse, and this makes Sharon frown. “Or we could just go to your place and make sure Daniel has a good meal.” He gets the reaction he wanted, feeling Sharon’s jaw set as her eyes go from fear-filled to steely resolve.
“Fine,” Raydor huffs.
He gestures toward the sitting area, blocking her when she reaches for her bag. “No, ma’am, that stays there.”
“Afraid I might hurt you?”
“Oh you’ve already got a head start on that one,” he remarks as she nears the small sofa. Sharon doesn’t sit, squaring her shoulders instead and staring at Flynn with the fury of a thousand wronged women.
“I’m getting very tired of all these accusations, Lieutenant.”
“In here, I’m Andy and you’re Sharon. This between us has nothing to do with who we are out there,” he says, flicking his hand toward the window.
“Very well, then I’m getting very tired of all these accusations, Andy.” He smirks at her, which only infuriates her more, and settles on the side of the chair opposite her. Hands at his knee, Flynn just looks at her for a long moment. Sharon lets the silence overtake them, determined that since this is his show, he will be the one to continue. Flynn holds out until he realizes she isn’t going to give. Her stubbornness impresses him more than it should, but he always was a strange sort.
“Mid-December 1994, I saw you at the bar at the Hilton.”
“Yes, Lieu--,” Sharon catches herself, “yes, Flynn, I think we’ve established that part.”
“So you do remember?”
“Sleeping with you, yes,” she tightly replies.
“Oh, no it was more than that,” he says with a smug grin.
“Fine,” Raydor says as she crosses her arms and glares at him, “I remember having sex with you. And if you dare think about spreading such a thing all over the department…”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Flynn quips, “besides, that’s not my style.”
“Thank God for that,” she tosses back, her reply full of sarcasm. Flynn leans closer to her then, his gaze staring through her as if she is a suspect in some crime.
“You’re a smart woman, Sharon, so it shouldn’t be so hard for you to connect the dots here. When was Daniel born? I’m guessing probably late August, early September 1995.” Flynn doesn’t fill a surge of pleasure like he thought he would when the realization of what he is getting at starts to dawn on Sharon. He does feel frustrated that she’s being so dimwitted about this, especially since for him it’s all completely obvious.
“I don’t believe it. My son is not yours.”
“Now, granted I was pretty wasted pretty much all the time back then,” Flynn continues, ignoring her denial, “but I am pretty certain I didn’t use any protection.” Raydor, however isn’t paying attention to him. She stumbles the foot or so to the sofa and collapses on it. Flynn stops talking, his own revelation that Raydor may not be lying to him sinking in. “Wait, you didn’t ever think this?”
“I told you, it was a rough time for me,” her voice is weak, almost a whisper. Flynn chastises himself for the hope that she doesn’t start to cry. But Sharon Raydor is tougher than that, and she bites back any tears that threaten to spill. “My husband, we were separated and it was bad.” She swallows, choosing her next words carefully, debating how much she wants to reveal to him.
“I know you come from money, Sharon. It’s not a well-kept secret.”
She frowns, then shrugs, “Well then you can likely understand why it was messy. Rick wasn’t from money. Anyway, there was a time at Christmas, we…”
“So you got back together?”
“Yes, briefly. When I found out I was pregnant, I just assumed.”
“Or you convinced yourself,” Flynn interjects. Standing, he locates the mini bar and goes to it. “You want a drink?”
“I thought you didn’t?”
“I don’t, but it doesn’t mean you can’t.” He opens the small refrigerator and smiles as he spots the ginger ales. “I’ll have one of these,” he says holding one up. “There’s whiskey, rum, isn’t that what you liked?”
“Water, if you don’t mind. I’m not sure I want to drink anything around you anytime soon.” To Sharon’s surprise, Flynn’s smile increases at the quip. “That amuses you?”
“Well, if drinking is what gets your guard down.”
“I don’t understand you,” she sighs, continuing at the sight of his questioning look. “One minute you’re so infuriated that I fear you’ll choke me, and in the next you’re cracking jokes.”
Flynn shrugs, walking over to hand her a small bottle of water while he opens the ginger ale. “You just have that effect on me, I guess. Now,” he says, sitting back down in the chair, “can you at least admit to the possibility that Daniel could be mine?” Sharon sips her water, quiet and contemplative. Flynn lets the silence fall between them, just happy that she is no longer eyeing her purse and she no longer appears to be on the verge of crying. He doesn’t realize she’s staring at him for long enough to ask himself how long she’s been staring at him. “What?”
“Where were you?”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t do the math all those years ago? It took you this long to learn how to add?” She says it with a straight face, but it’s the condescending tone that gets him. Flynn’s spine goes rigid, his jaw sets, and he decides that she’s better at interrogating people than he first thought. “Well?”
He takes a sip of his soda and gives her a sheepish shrug. “You got me.” Raydor raises an eyebrow. “Provenza and I were at the game Saturday.”
“The Dodger’s game? That’s what you meant by seeing me at the ballpark.”
“Seeing you and Danny.”
“And what? Suddenly everything became crystal clear?”
Flynn leans his elbows on his knees, dropping his head. “Actually no. Provenza noticed that Danny looked a lot like my son, Jesse. He’s a little older than Danny, but the similarity was too much for Louie to let go. And, well, when I saw him…” Flynn trails off, taking a breath before adding, “If he’s mine, I want to do right by him.” Sharon’s chuckle brings his head up, “That’s funny to you?”
She shakes her head, “If you’re serious about that, well, even with your troubled past you’d be better than Rick.”
“Troubled past?”
“You didn’t remember sleeping with me because you blacked out afterward, didn’t you?” She holds his gaze until he feels his face flushing and forces himself to look away. “Did you even remember having sex?”
“Yes, I remembered,” He snips, “I just didn’t remember with who.” He looks up, seeing Raydor’s frown. “I remembered your perfume, which you still wear right?” She nods. “That’s probably why I never liked that perfume.” At her scowl he continues, “Well, you just left and there I was with no idea what had happened and with one helluva hangover.”
“If I recall, that wasn’t out of the norm for you then, was it?” It’s his turn to scowl. “Fourteen years sober?”
“Yes.”
“How many more blackouts did you have after that night?”
“Not that many,” Flynn’s expression is on the edge of rage. “I won’t let you use my past against me, Sharon. If he’s mine, don’t think I won’t fight you to see him. I won’t let you do me the same way-”
“If Daniel is yours,” she cuts in, “and that’s a very doubtful if, we will figure out how and if -“
“When.”
“If,” she pauses, “when it’s conclusive that you are.”
Andy gives her a questioning stare. “Do you think I’m going to just take the similarity of your son and mine as proof that Daniel is yours?” Flynn opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself then slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. You of all people should know that more than just a hunch is required here. It’s one thing for you to turn my life upside down over a gut feeling, but I’ll be damned if you do that to my son.” She huffs out the statement, but tries to soften the blow at the sight of the fire in Flynn’s eyes. “I know you aren’t doing this lightly, Andy.” She smiles then, a sad sort of smile that draws him closer to her, has him leaning toward her. “How would you feel if some guy showed up when you were almost 16 and said what you believed your entire life was a lie?”
Andy sighs, “Yeah, I see your point. But if you think I’m going to just let him be out there and never-”
Raydor holds up her hand to stop him, “I’m not saying that, Andy. I just want a DNA test. Can’t you admit that that is a fair request?”
He purses his lips, and then huffs out a long sigh. “Yes, fine. But I want one now, not later this week or next or.”
“No, that’s fair. This isn’t going away, so we might as well get it over with.” Sharon removes her glasses and rubs at the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she does. “I’ll figure out something to tell him just in case.”
“And when the test comes back?”
“Then I’ll figure out what to tell him.”
“You won’t keep him-” Flynn’s words get stuck in his throat at the sight of Raydor’s glare, which he can only adequately describe as one of a mother lion on the verge of attack.
“If Daniel is yours and you dump him in a few months after the newness has worn off, I swear to you, Andy Flynn that you will regret ever remembering our one night together. He’s had too much disappointment in his life from his father so far, and I will not have another one come along just to hurt him more. Do you understand me?”
In that moment, Flynn realizes that Sharon Raydor is indeed a wicked witch; however, he can’t find one reason to fault her for being so.