RF Such Is My Life
Title: Such Is My Life, pt 5
Pairing: The Closer - Raydor/Flynn
Rating: M for language, sexual situations
A week and a half later, Andy Flynn walks in to a very tense squad room. The guys are in a huddle around Tao’s desk, heads down with occasional glances toward the Chief’s office. Flynn looks that way and notices her blinds are drawn.
“What’s going on?”
“Pope and Raydor went in there with Chief Delk about a half hour ago,” Gabriel says.
“Then a few suits went in about ten minutes ago,” Tao adds.
“Lawyers?” The guys nod yes. “Shit,” Flynn mutters.
“I bet Raydor’s been poking her nose around where she shouldn’t,” Provenza chimes in, “She always did have a way of being a pain in the ass.” Flynn frowns, his eyes still trained on the Chief’s office. “You remember that time Franklin wolf whistled her?” Louie looks at his partner, but when Flynn doesn’t react he continues, “She slapped him with harassment-”
“Why would Delk be in there? Anyone heard anything?” The others shrug or shake their heads at Flynn’s question.
“I tell ya, Flynn, that,” Provenza wags his finger, “witch…” Flynn’s frown deepens, which normally spurs Provenza on, but the older detective catches a hint of disapproval in his partner’s eye. “What?”
“Door’s moving,” Tao comments and the guys try to look busy.
“Everyone, I um, I need you all to come to the conference room,” Deputy Chief Johnson says, her hands fidgeting through the air like a startled bird. She is clearly agitated, her gaze flipping between Pope and Raydor.
“I’ll be on my way,” Delk nods at Raydor and Pope before motioning for the suits to follow him. “Remember what I said, Deputy Chief.” He gives Johnson a hard stare before turning on his heels, entourage in tow. The guys exchange glances, but Flynn barely notices having been staring at Sharon Raydor since the second she stepped out of the Chief’s office. She’s all business in her pinstriped suit, a hint of purple showing beneath the jacket. Her hair is down, freshly washed and her eyes are steel behind her glasses. His ire at her is hard to push back, given she’d found out the DNA results a couple of days ago but had yet to grace him with a call. No, so far he wasn’t worthy of much more than a quickly scribbled note on a post-it. It’s no wonder to him that she hasn’t looked his way once.
“Ok, so, conference room, now everyone,” Johnson snaps her fingers, getting the guys to move. She leads the way while Raydor and Pope hang back. Flynn drags his feet, letting the others go ahead of him. For a moment he thinks Pope isn’t going to move until at the last second the guy falls in step with Gabriel. Provenza notices Flynn lagging behind, but Sanchez happens to be behind him and ushers the older detective along. Raydor turns to join the others, but Flynn catches her elbow.
“Not now,” she whispers in a stern tone.
“What’s going on?”
“You’re about to find out,” she frowns, taking a step forward.
“Wait a minute,” Flynn pulls back on her arm and is met with her scowl. “We need to talk, and I mean more than just a note saying the tests confirmed it and I’ll call you soon.” He dips his head down until she has to look at him. Sharon’s work façade fades for just a moment when her eyes meet his.
“Be glad you weren't in that car,” she says through tight lips. Flynn jerks his head back, a confused look falling across his face. After a quick glance down the hall, Sharon takes a step back from him before saying in a measured tone, “We do have to talk about a lot of things.”
“Detective? Captain?” Pope’s voice causes them to stand ramrod straight.
“Sorry, coming, sir,” Raydor replies as she turns away from Flynn.
He falls in step just behind her, leaning close to whisper, “You won’t put me off.” Before Sharon can reply, Flynn steps past her, nods to Pope and heads inside the conference room. Pope raises his brow at the Captain but Sharon says nothing, just moves inside so he can close the door behind them. When Chief Johnson starts talking, Flynn’s confusion clears.
“I told you she was in the middle of this,” Provenza mouths off much later when Pope is long gone, the Chief is back in her office and Raydor is nowhere near them for the moment. “Small doses of her are bad enough, but this? How the hell are we supposed to do our jobs with her breathing down our backs every second?”
“I knew we shouldn’t have left him there,” Gabriel slams his hand on his desk then leans his chin against his clasped hands. “This is all kinds of bad.”
"It's done," Sanchez replies as Provenza and Tao exchange looks, while Flynn continues to lean against his desk, strangely quiet.
“Flynn, you know this is pointless? That kid made his own bed when he killed that old man and kid in the convenience store,” Provenza continues. “I mean I understand exactly why the Chief dropped him off and let his gang deal with him. Raydor and her rule book. You know she’s going to be the last one to lift a finger to help them out of this-”
“I need some air,” Andy says, pushing off the desk and heading out of the squad room without even a glance behind him. Provenza stares slack jawed as he leaves, holding up his hands in a ‘what gives’ question. Tao and Sanchez just shrug.
Smoking had never been a habit for Sharon. She’d flirted with the addiction, but it didn’t last. Now and again she bummed a cig from a fellow cop, but only when the smells got to her or the nerves. Standing on the roof, leaning against the stairwell exterior, she inhales the pilfered smoke and closes her eyes. She counts to ten, then on to fifteen, but has to exhale at seventeen. Her lungs burning and the urge to cough strong, but she holds back and lets the sensation fade.
“Want another?” Flynn startles her, but she manages to not jump. Instead she shakes her head and flicks the dying ashes away before taking another drag. He lights up in the silence and stands beside her, leaning his back against the wall. Wearing another white pressed shirt, straight tie and neatly creased pants, she observes.
“To be such a screw-up, I have to give it to you that you are a well dressed one,” her words mix with her exhaled smoke. “What the hell were you all thinking?”
“May I point out that I have plausible denial ability in this?”
“Ha!” Sharon scoffs. “That lot of you, what one does might as well be credited to all of you. You did know about it.” She says it as a statement and not knowing if this in an official questioning or not, Flynn simply dips his head, skimming his foot against the tiny rocks in the tar. “Off the record,” he shrugs, “it seemed right at the time.”
“I don’t know how she’s going to get out of this,” Sharon says with a sideways glance to him. “The family has a case and they’re out for more than just money in this. They’re out for blood.”
“Give it time,” he replies, inhaling the rich tobacco. “These things have a way of sorting themselves out.”
Sharon straightens, moving to stand in front of Flynn. She drops her cigarette to the ground, grinding out the butt with the ball of her 3-inch black heel. “Maybe so, Flynn, but don’t think this will go away so easy for any of you. The three of them left that boy to die.”
“That boy,” he says, pulling up to his full height and leaning toward her so he’s towering slightly over her, “killed two innocent people just because they saw his face.”
“And that makes what they did ok?”
“It doesn’t keep me up at night.”
Raydor’s mouth purses in that irritating, condescending way of hers, filling him with a raging need to reach out. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Flynn’s hand locks on her chin and he’s so very close to her. Sharon grabs his arm, a gasp slipping out as Flynn stares down at her. “Lieutenant.”
“No, Sharon, you listen, I-” Flynn isn’t sure what he wants to say, distracted by the way her widening green eyes change colors in the light as a cloud passes between them and the sun. For two days she’d kept him waiting, two days with the promise to call and nothing. If she thought she could string him along…Sharon lets out a long held breath, the movement of her lips drawing Flynn’s attention to her mouth. He can see the tension there, feel it like another presence surrounding them.
“Flynn,” she whispers and something in him breaks. In one swift movement, Flynn descends, tossing his cigarette aside so his free hand can wrap around her waist. He pulls her hard against him, forcing Sharon to grab his waist or risk a head rush as her balance is completely thrown off. Any protest she tries to make is muted by Flynn’s mouth closing over hers, his kiss demanding but not hard; rushed but not forceful. Sharon wraps her fingers in his shirtsleeve, digging into his skin. At first she makes muffled, annoyed sounds. Flynn, however, capitalizes on her parted lips, slipping his tongue in between as he slides the hand at her jaw around to cup the back of her neck. He moves his other hand higher up her back, drawing her closer to him until she is pressed firmly against his chest.
She gasps again at the solid feel of him, suddenly lost in the intensity of him. The rich tobacco taste on his tongue invades her mouth, and although part of Sharon wants him to stop, another part, which is getting harder and harder to ignore, revels in the feel of him. In a moment of weakness she kisses back, opening to him as she lessens her grip on his shirtsleeve. She indulges in the sensations coursing through her, in the long suppressed memories of that shared night that began to rise to the surface of her mind just over a week ago. Breathless, Flynn pulls back, and the second his lips part from hers the spell is broken. Raydor blinks, drawing back her hand to strike. Flynn reacts, reflexively grabbing her wrist.
“You--”
“Asshole,” he quips, breaking her seething stride. “I know, but sometimes that’s how life is.” Sharon draws in a deep breath, her jade eyes hard, full of fire. Flynn simply smiles. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same, if you knew a murderer was going to just walk out free and clear?” She glares at him, her fist tightening so he tightens his hold on her wrist. “If it had been your family he’d killed?”
“That’s not fair to ask.”
“It’s what I ask myself everyday.”
“I should tear up those results and take Danny far away from you.”
“But you won’t.” Flynn loosens his hold on her wrist but doesn’t let her go. “I remember why I wanted to hate you so much now,” he says, leaning back against the wall. As he relaxes, some of the tension leaves her as well, but not much. She’s still prowling, on guard and ready to strike if given the chance. He waits for her to ask him why, but instead has to make do with an inclination of her head. “You make me crazy,” he admits.
“I can say the same about you.”
Flynn smirks, but quickly turns serious. “I can be a good father; all I need’s a chance.”
“He’s had so much disappointment in his life.”
“I won’t disappoint him.”
“Won’t you?”
Flynn starts up but catches himself and forces his body back against the wall. “See that’s what I mean. You and that damn rule book of yours. You just expect people to fail.”
“No, I expect you to be human and do the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do, and then leave me to clean up your mess.” The flames in her eyes make Flynn understand that she’s not just talking about their son. Son. Shit, he has a son. With Raydor. She sees the softness come into his eyes and he registers her confusion.
“Danny is mine. We have a son,” as he says it out loud, the impact of hearing the words are so much more intense than just thinking them, the effect making him feel as lightheaded as kissing her had done. The effect is visible on Sharon as well, the tension draining from her so fast that for a moment Flynn thinks she might faint.
“Apparently we do,” she whispers. “We can’t let them know, not yet. Please Andy.” He quirks his head in response making Sharon frown. She pulls back from his hold, and he lets her go. Sharon crosses her arms along her chest, saying, “I’ve been assigned to your unit until the duration of this court case, remember? I don’t know what we’re going to do about this, but I don’t want to do it with an audience.”
“Fair enough.”
“You may not like following the rules, but you best follow mine,” she rushes out before he can figure out the change in her tone. “We’re going to be walking a very thin line here, Flynn. I have to be impartial during the extent of this, do you understand me?”
“Can you be?” he blurts out, immediately sorry for doing so because her glower tells him that she can and will shut him out if he pushes her too far. “Fine,” he says, holding up his hands in a peace offering. “In there,” he gestures toward the stairwell door, “we’re Lieutenant and Captain, but we have to be able to work out a time for me to get to know my son.”
Sharon closes her eyes, resigned to the fact that short of killing him or letting that gangster’s parents fry him, which she’d likely, probably, never do, Andy Flynn was going to be in the middle of her life for the rest of Danny’s. She sighs again, nipping at her bottom lip before deciding on what she needs to say. “I wasn’t, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I meant to call you the same day I sent the note, but all this came up,” she explains, her hands punctuating her words. “Please just give me the rest of today. You have my word we’ll talk about this-”
“There’s a game tomorrow night.”
“Excuse me?”
“Dodgers are playing the Giants. Meet me at the stadium with Danny.” She takes a minute to react, Flynn realizes just how long when he feels his body demanding that he take a breath. Finally she nods.
“Fine, okay, but…”
“I won’t say anything until you’re ready,” he grumbles, then slowly holds out his hand to seal the oath. Sharon flicks her gaze from his hand to his sincere brown eyes before closing her hand around his.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Alright then, we’ll see you at the game.” Sharon starts to let go, but then tightens her hold. As she does so, her small smile turns deadly and she leans in close to Flynn, her breathy whisper at his ear. “And if you even think about kissing me again, I’ll show you just how wicked a witch I can be.” Flynn doesn’t crack a smile until the click of her heels and the reverberations of the slamming metal door fade from his ears.
Pairing: The Closer - Raydor/Flynn
Rating: M for language, sexual situations
A week and a half later, Andy Flynn walks in to a very tense squad room. The guys are in a huddle around Tao’s desk, heads down with occasional glances toward the Chief’s office. Flynn looks that way and notices her blinds are drawn.
“What’s going on?”
“Pope and Raydor went in there with Chief Delk about a half hour ago,” Gabriel says.
“Then a few suits went in about ten minutes ago,” Tao adds.
“Lawyers?” The guys nod yes. “Shit,” Flynn mutters.
“I bet Raydor’s been poking her nose around where she shouldn’t,” Provenza chimes in, “She always did have a way of being a pain in the ass.” Flynn frowns, his eyes still trained on the Chief’s office. “You remember that time Franklin wolf whistled her?” Louie looks at his partner, but when Flynn doesn’t react he continues, “She slapped him with harassment-”
“Why would Delk be in there? Anyone heard anything?” The others shrug or shake their heads at Flynn’s question.
“I tell ya, Flynn, that,” Provenza wags his finger, “witch…” Flynn’s frown deepens, which normally spurs Provenza on, but the older detective catches a hint of disapproval in his partner’s eye. “What?”
“Door’s moving,” Tao comments and the guys try to look busy.
“Everyone, I um, I need you all to come to the conference room,” Deputy Chief Johnson says, her hands fidgeting through the air like a startled bird. She is clearly agitated, her gaze flipping between Pope and Raydor.
“I’ll be on my way,” Delk nods at Raydor and Pope before motioning for the suits to follow him. “Remember what I said, Deputy Chief.” He gives Johnson a hard stare before turning on his heels, entourage in tow. The guys exchange glances, but Flynn barely notices having been staring at Sharon Raydor since the second she stepped out of the Chief’s office. She’s all business in her pinstriped suit, a hint of purple showing beneath the jacket. Her hair is down, freshly washed and her eyes are steel behind her glasses. His ire at her is hard to push back, given she’d found out the DNA results a couple of days ago but had yet to grace him with a call. No, so far he wasn’t worthy of much more than a quickly scribbled note on a post-it. It’s no wonder to him that she hasn’t looked his way once.
“Ok, so, conference room, now everyone,” Johnson snaps her fingers, getting the guys to move. She leads the way while Raydor and Pope hang back. Flynn drags his feet, letting the others go ahead of him. For a moment he thinks Pope isn’t going to move until at the last second the guy falls in step with Gabriel. Provenza notices Flynn lagging behind, but Sanchez happens to be behind him and ushers the older detective along. Raydor turns to join the others, but Flynn catches her elbow.
“Not now,” she whispers in a stern tone.
“What’s going on?”
“You’re about to find out,” she frowns, taking a step forward.
“Wait a minute,” Flynn pulls back on her arm and is met with her scowl. “We need to talk, and I mean more than just a note saying the tests confirmed it and I’ll call you soon.” He dips his head down until she has to look at him. Sharon’s work façade fades for just a moment when her eyes meet his.
“Be glad you weren't in that car,” she says through tight lips. Flynn jerks his head back, a confused look falling across his face. After a quick glance down the hall, Sharon takes a step back from him before saying in a measured tone, “We do have to talk about a lot of things.”
“Detective? Captain?” Pope’s voice causes them to stand ramrod straight.
“Sorry, coming, sir,” Raydor replies as she turns away from Flynn.
He falls in step just behind her, leaning close to whisper, “You won’t put me off.” Before Sharon can reply, Flynn steps past her, nods to Pope and heads inside the conference room. Pope raises his brow at the Captain but Sharon says nothing, just moves inside so he can close the door behind them. When Chief Johnson starts talking, Flynn’s confusion clears.
“I told you she was in the middle of this,” Provenza mouths off much later when Pope is long gone, the Chief is back in her office and Raydor is nowhere near them for the moment. “Small doses of her are bad enough, but this? How the hell are we supposed to do our jobs with her breathing down our backs every second?”
“I knew we shouldn’t have left him there,” Gabriel slams his hand on his desk then leans his chin against his clasped hands. “This is all kinds of bad.”
"It's done," Sanchez replies as Provenza and Tao exchange looks, while Flynn continues to lean against his desk, strangely quiet.
“Flynn, you know this is pointless? That kid made his own bed when he killed that old man and kid in the convenience store,” Provenza continues. “I mean I understand exactly why the Chief dropped him off and let his gang deal with him. Raydor and her rule book. You know she’s going to be the last one to lift a finger to help them out of this-”
“I need some air,” Andy says, pushing off the desk and heading out of the squad room without even a glance behind him. Provenza stares slack jawed as he leaves, holding up his hands in a ‘what gives’ question. Tao and Sanchez just shrug.
Smoking had never been a habit for Sharon. She’d flirted with the addiction, but it didn’t last. Now and again she bummed a cig from a fellow cop, but only when the smells got to her or the nerves. Standing on the roof, leaning against the stairwell exterior, she inhales the pilfered smoke and closes her eyes. She counts to ten, then on to fifteen, but has to exhale at seventeen. Her lungs burning and the urge to cough strong, but she holds back and lets the sensation fade.
“Want another?” Flynn startles her, but she manages to not jump. Instead she shakes her head and flicks the dying ashes away before taking another drag. He lights up in the silence and stands beside her, leaning his back against the wall. Wearing another white pressed shirt, straight tie and neatly creased pants, she observes.
“To be such a screw-up, I have to give it to you that you are a well dressed one,” her words mix with her exhaled smoke. “What the hell were you all thinking?”
“May I point out that I have plausible denial ability in this?”
“Ha!” Sharon scoffs. “That lot of you, what one does might as well be credited to all of you. You did know about it.” She says it as a statement and not knowing if this in an official questioning or not, Flynn simply dips his head, skimming his foot against the tiny rocks in the tar. “Off the record,” he shrugs, “it seemed right at the time.”
“I don’t know how she’s going to get out of this,” Sharon says with a sideways glance to him. “The family has a case and they’re out for more than just money in this. They’re out for blood.”
“Give it time,” he replies, inhaling the rich tobacco. “These things have a way of sorting themselves out.”
Sharon straightens, moving to stand in front of Flynn. She drops her cigarette to the ground, grinding out the butt with the ball of her 3-inch black heel. “Maybe so, Flynn, but don’t think this will go away so easy for any of you. The three of them left that boy to die.”
“That boy,” he says, pulling up to his full height and leaning toward her so he’s towering slightly over her, “killed two innocent people just because they saw his face.”
“And that makes what they did ok?”
“It doesn’t keep me up at night.”
Raydor’s mouth purses in that irritating, condescending way of hers, filling him with a raging need to reach out. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Flynn’s hand locks on her chin and he’s so very close to her. Sharon grabs his arm, a gasp slipping out as Flynn stares down at her. “Lieutenant.”
“No, Sharon, you listen, I-” Flynn isn’t sure what he wants to say, distracted by the way her widening green eyes change colors in the light as a cloud passes between them and the sun. For two days she’d kept him waiting, two days with the promise to call and nothing. If she thought she could string him along…Sharon lets out a long held breath, the movement of her lips drawing Flynn’s attention to her mouth. He can see the tension there, feel it like another presence surrounding them.
“Flynn,” she whispers and something in him breaks. In one swift movement, Flynn descends, tossing his cigarette aside so his free hand can wrap around her waist. He pulls her hard against him, forcing Sharon to grab his waist or risk a head rush as her balance is completely thrown off. Any protest she tries to make is muted by Flynn’s mouth closing over hers, his kiss demanding but not hard; rushed but not forceful. Sharon wraps her fingers in his shirtsleeve, digging into his skin. At first she makes muffled, annoyed sounds. Flynn, however, capitalizes on her parted lips, slipping his tongue in between as he slides the hand at her jaw around to cup the back of her neck. He moves his other hand higher up her back, drawing her closer to him until she is pressed firmly against his chest.
She gasps again at the solid feel of him, suddenly lost in the intensity of him. The rich tobacco taste on his tongue invades her mouth, and although part of Sharon wants him to stop, another part, which is getting harder and harder to ignore, revels in the feel of him. In a moment of weakness she kisses back, opening to him as she lessens her grip on his shirtsleeve. She indulges in the sensations coursing through her, in the long suppressed memories of that shared night that began to rise to the surface of her mind just over a week ago. Breathless, Flynn pulls back, and the second his lips part from hers the spell is broken. Raydor blinks, drawing back her hand to strike. Flynn reacts, reflexively grabbing her wrist.
“You--”
“Asshole,” he quips, breaking her seething stride. “I know, but sometimes that’s how life is.” Sharon draws in a deep breath, her jade eyes hard, full of fire. Flynn simply smiles. “Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same, if you knew a murderer was going to just walk out free and clear?” She glares at him, her fist tightening so he tightens his hold on her wrist. “If it had been your family he’d killed?”
“That’s not fair to ask.”
“It’s what I ask myself everyday.”
“I should tear up those results and take Danny far away from you.”
“But you won’t.” Flynn loosens his hold on her wrist but doesn’t let her go. “I remember why I wanted to hate you so much now,” he says, leaning back against the wall. As he relaxes, some of the tension leaves her as well, but not much. She’s still prowling, on guard and ready to strike if given the chance. He waits for her to ask him why, but instead has to make do with an inclination of her head. “You make me crazy,” he admits.
“I can say the same about you.”
Flynn smirks, but quickly turns serious. “I can be a good father; all I need’s a chance.”
“He’s had so much disappointment in his life.”
“I won’t disappoint him.”
“Won’t you?”
Flynn starts up but catches himself and forces his body back against the wall. “See that’s what I mean. You and that damn rule book of yours. You just expect people to fail.”
“No, I expect you to be human and do the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do, and then leave me to clean up your mess.” The flames in her eyes make Flynn understand that she’s not just talking about their son. Son. Shit, he has a son. With Raydor. She sees the softness come into his eyes and he registers her confusion.
“Danny is mine. We have a son,” as he says it out loud, the impact of hearing the words are so much more intense than just thinking them, the effect making him feel as lightheaded as kissing her had done. The effect is visible on Sharon as well, the tension draining from her so fast that for a moment Flynn thinks she might faint.
“Apparently we do,” she whispers. “We can’t let them know, not yet. Please Andy.” He quirks his head in response making Sharon frown. She pulls back from his hold, and he lets her go. Sharon crosses her arms along her chest, saying, “I’ve been assigned to your unit until the duration of this court case, remember? I don’t know what we’re going to do about this, but I don’t want to do it with an audience.”
“Fair enough.”
“You may not like following the rules, but you best follow mine,” she rushes out before he can figure out the change in her tone. “We’re going to be walking a very thin line here, Flynn. I have to be impartial during the extent of this, do you understand me?”
“Can you be?” he blurts out, immediately sorry for doing so because her glower tells him that she can and will shut him out if he pushes her too far. “Fine,” he says, holding up his hands in a peace offering. “In there,” he gestures toward the stairwell door, “we’re Lieutenant and Captain, but we have to be able to work out a time for me to get to know my son.”
Sharon closes her eyes, resigned to the fact that short of killing him or letting that gangster’s parents fry him, which she’d likely, probably, never do, Andy Flynn was going to be in the middle of her life for the rest of Danny’s. She sighs again, nipping at her bottom lip before deciding on what she needs to say. “I wasn’t, I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. I meant to call you the same day I sent the note, but all this came up,” she explains, her hands punctuating her words. “Please just give me the rest of today. You have my word we’ll talk about this-”
“There’s a game tomorrow night.”
“Excuse me?”
“Dodgers are playing the Giants. Meet me at the stadium with Danny.” She takes a minute to react, Flynn realizes just how long when he feels his body demanding that he take a breath. Finally she nods.
“Fine, okay, but…”
“I won’t say anything until you’re ready,” he grumbles, then slowly holds out his hand to seal the oath. Sharon flicks her gaze from his hand to his sincere brown eyes before closing her hand around his.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Alright then, we’ll see you at the game.” Sharon starts to let go, but then tightens her hold. As she does so, her small smile turns deadly and she leans in close to Flynn, her breathy whisper at his ear. “And if you even think about kissing me again, I’ll show you just how wicked a witch I can be.” Flynn doesn’t crack a smile until the click of her heels and the reverberations of the slamming metal door fade from his ears.