LB3

A/N- Thanks for the reviews. Why so anon? I don't think I ever explicitly stated, but I'm setting this about 24 years back, circa 1989, assuming Sharon is in her mid-to-late fifties at current times. I don't know if that's quite right, but idk, haha

Also. Blogger didn't save this and when I retrieved it the formatted was kinda frakked. It's right on ff, but if you're just reading it here you just get to deal. My apologies.

I come to find a refuge in the easy silence that you make for me.

-The Dixie Chicks, Easy Silence

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Sharon pulled her little gold sedan up into her driveway, parking neatly behind Jack's navy car. Their small house stood at the other end of the concrete. Jack had found it nearly five years before, after several hours spent pouring over real estate leaflets and brochures. There were two bedrooms, an office, and even a dining room. The Raydors shared the lone bathroom and the office would be converted to a nursery, so it would be tight, but Sharon liked it. It kept the family close together. It was pretty, in the Craftsman style, with clean angles, bright windows, and a smattering of oak.

She got out and hefted her purse over one shoulder and let Ricky out of the child-locked back seat. He took off, running for the front door, while Sharon followed at a more stately pace. She walked in the open door behind her son, toed his cast-off shoes into the corner of the entryway, and hung his backpack on its hook in the entry closet. Ricky's voice carried clearly from the kitchen, where he was talking to Jack.

Sharon kicked off her own shoes, then padded through the living room and into the master bedroom. She kept a small safe under her nightstand for her service weapon, a light-weight Beretta. She took the key from her purse, unlocked it, then spun in the combination, and opened the safe. She had bought a safe with two locks, because she had heard all the horror stories about people breaking into officers' safes and taking their guns before wreaking havoc. She knew most of the stories had no truthful basis, but nonetheless found herself believing them. So she locked her gun, badge, and belt away before rising and wandering over to the closet.

"Shar?" Jack called from the kitchen.

"Just changing clothes," she replied. She undid her tie and peeled her socks off, threw them into the laundry, unbuttoned her grimy shirt, kicked off her pants, and dropped the crumpled heap on top of the socks. The evening was still hot and humid, so she dug a light cotton dress out of her closet and pulled it on over her head. It was one of her favorites, a summery pastel plaid. She turned and leaned close to the vanity mirror to run her finger over the bruise on her face. It was hardly puffy, just a violent shade of purple. She cracked open a bottle of concealer and smeared the cream over her cheekbone and temple with two fingers before joining Jack and Ricky in the kitchen.

"I made burritos for dinner, just to shake things up a bit," Jack said. "Black beans, cheese, cilantro, some bacon bits, and egg." He raised a finger as Sharon opened her mouth. "No eggs on yours, Shar, I remembered. I just don't understand how you don't like eggs," he laughed. He picked up the burritos, silverware, napkins, and swept past Sharon en route to the patio connected to the dining room. "I was thinking we could eat outside; you've been stuck in a car all day."

"That would be wonderful." She gathered a pitcher of pink lemonade from the fridge and three glasses before following Jack and Ricky outside. In contrast to the rest of the house, the patio was spacious, overlooking the back lawn.

Ricky was the only noisemaker at the table. He recanted the day in between bites of burrito and slurps of lemonade. Sharon watched her husband, glad that he hadn't made a move to get a beer from the fridge. A short time later, Ricky pushed himself away from the table and ran to the small sandbox in the near the dogwood tree.

"How did your day go, Jack?"

"Not bad," he replied. "Picked up a new case at the office. It'll be a long one, but it'll pay well when I finish."

"That's good."

"And your day?"

"Nothing too exciting. Just the normal ticketing and report writing, mostly."

"Mostly?" Jack looked up. Sharon followed his eyes as he scrutinized her, searching her expression. Suddenly his face changed, and he reached across the table, swiping his thumb through the concealer. "What happened?" he said sharply.

She sighed and leaned back. "We had a takedown and it got a little messy. It's just a bruise; don't worry about it."

He looked sad, like a kicked puppy. "But I do worry about you, Shar. 'Thy husband is thy lord, thy life... The one that cares for thee... And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love.'"

Sharon smiled despite herself. "Shakespeare?"

Jack grinned back. "The Taming of the Shrew. You're getting better at this." He pulled her over, onto his lap and wetted his napkin in the lemonade, before using it to dab the rest of the make-up off.

Sharon closed her eyes. The cool dampness felt good, as did Jack's gentle touch. He continued for a few more minutes before stopping. Sharon leaned into him and he stroked her hair.

"Shar, I'm not complaining, but really, please be more careful. Can't you get a desk job?"

"I don't want a desk job," she mumbled.

He sighed. "Then at least don't go boxing with your perps, alright?"

"Deal." She held her right hand up over her head, and Jack grasped it and awkwardly shook.

"Deal."

They sat in the sunset for a while longer. The evening was still warm, but had lost some of the sticky humidity of the day. Sharon wasn't sure if she had fallen asleep or not when Jack finally stirred.

"I think it's bedtime for everyone," he said. He carefully eased out from under Sharon and walked into the lawn to collect Ricky. Sharon got up as well and went back inside. She set the dishes in the sink and continued to Ricky's room. It was pained soft green on three walls and baby carrot orange on the fourth. She organized the spaceship sheets and blanket on the bed in the corner and folded them back. Ricky was now clattering about in the bathroom next-door. A few minutes later he appeared in his room, clad in pajamas.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Yes." He bounced into the room.

"Pick out a book then. We need to start a new one." Sharon sat down on the bed as Ricky ran his fingers over the books on his shelf.

"This one!"

Sharon took the selected book as he curled up in bed next to her. "Are you sure? It's a Christmas book."

"Yes!"

She smiled at his enthusiasm. "All right." She leaned back next to him and cracked the book open. It was a beautifully illustrated tale, beginning with Creation and ending with Christ's Resurrection. The main character was a boy who was hearing the tale for the first time. "'The boy hunkered down and yanked his cap farther over his ears as the wind rose to a roar across the ridge...'"

Ricky's fingers traced the pictures as she read, and it wasn't long before he fell asleep. She quietly closed the book and slid off the bed. Ricky shifted in his sleep and Sharon leaned down to kiss his forehead before leaving, shutting the door softly behind her.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" He was sitting of the sofa, back to her, watching the news on TV.

"Nothing." She sat next to him and he wrapped one arm over her shoulders. The scent of some sweet liquor drifted past her and she looked to Jack's other hand. He was holding a tall glass of something pink and sweet. "What's that?"

He didn't look over. "It's mostly lemonade, Shar."

"We talked about this. You said-"

"I remember what I said. I said I'd cut back. This is only one drink. Don't worry about it."

She was quiet for a while, until the advertisements cut in. "Say, Jack, do you know an Andy Flynn?"

"Yeah, met with him and his partner a few times for some stuff in Robbery-Homicide. Not so much now that I'm working at the firm. We've been out for drinks a few times. Why?"

Mentally, Sharon's esteem of the detective dropped a few notches. "No reason, really. I met him today at work. He mentioned you."

"Nice guy. If you see him again tell him I said hello."

"Sure."

They lapsed into silence again as the news returned. After a while, Sharon caught herself falling asleep again, so she pulled herself up and stood. "I'm going to bed." She kissed Jack lightly. "Don't stay up late." She left the room and walked back down the dark hall to their bedroom. It was small and simple; Sharon had decorated it. The walls were veneered in light oak the first three feet up from the floor, and then the walls were cream-colored, decorated with photos and a few tasteful sketches. There were two matching dressers, a desk and chair, a large bookshelf, and a bed. The bed was in the far corner between two windows, covered by a large quilt that Sharon's mother had made several years back.

She changed clothes again, this time rehanging the dress and pulling out a set of daisy patterned pajamas. She grabbed a towel and ducked into the bathroom. It was the coolest room in the house, but she still took a cold shower, letting the water rinse the grime of the day away. When she was finished, she stepped out, toweled off, changed into the pajamas, and brushed her teeth with the blue fleur-de-lis toothbrush that was next to Ricky's green dinosaur one. In the bedroom, she knelt to say her prayers before climbing into bed.

It wasn't long before she heard the TV switch off. A few minutes later, Jack entered the room. He took off his suit, carefully rehanging and folding every piece, until he stood only in his boxers.

Sharon rolled over to watch him pray and when he got into bed she laughed softly. "I didn't know you still had those star-spangled boxers."

He grinned. "You got them for me at Christmas. They're my favorites, Shar." He pulled her close to kiss her, and she was relieved to find his breath only smelled faintly minty from his toothpaste. He held her close and she relaxed.

"How's the kid?" he asked, not meaning Ricky, asleep across the hall.

"Good, I think. Marcia Pierce- do you remember her?"

"Neil's mother, the doc?" Jackson guessed.

"Yes, her. She said that she had some spare time tomorrow afternoon if I wanted to come in, but I think everything is fine."

"Shar, it wouldn't hurt to go in. You could take off from work early, I could meet you there. We could even pick Ricky up afterwards and all go out for dinner."

"That'd be nice. Heaven knows we haven't done that in a while."

"No, we haven't." Jack was quiet for a while. "Good night, then, Shar."

"Sweet dreams," she said softly. She snuggled closer to him and was soon asleep.

A/N- Again, if you have suggestions, let me know. The book- One Wintry Night- is real. It's by Ruth Graham Bell and has the most stunning illustrations I've ever seen, by one Richard Jesse Watson. Check it out if you can (: