Hiatuses suck.

LB 5

A/N- See, I told you. I wrote. My notebook is dirty and slightly charred, but I had fun. Also on today's agenda, Sharon learns a lesson that she will remember....

You will pay for your sins, you'll be sorry my dear. 

All the lies, all the whys, will all be crystal clear.

-Blow Me One Last Kiss, P!nk

"Excuse me?" Sharon must have misheard.

"I'm planning to retire next fall, and FID will need a new head," Bancroft said calmly.

"But I don't know anything about Internal Affairs!" she sputtered. "Most of your department outranks me, and-"

Hotchkiss cut in. "We realize those things, but you must realize that transfers and promotions often come together."

"If you accept a transfer to FID following you return from maternity leave, I can make you Captain," Bancroft continued.

Sharon stared at the man, flabbergasted. According to traditional ranking, she would have to be promoted thrice more, through both lieutenant ranks, to reach Captain. She had heard of people jumping up through the ranks, but it was uncommon.

"That's a nice offer, Sarge," Hotchkiss muttered, carefully pulling rank.

Sharon finally found her voice. "I had been hoping to return to active duty."

"You would still receive call-outs in FID; it isn't all administrative."

"There's a substantial pay raise and more regular hours. Easier on the family," Hotchkiss added suggestively. 

"Could I have some time to think about it?" Sharon asked.

Hotchkiss and Bancroft looked at each other, clearly somewhat dismayed. 

"Two weeks sounds fair," Bancroft said, his voice betraying no emotion. "Come back with your answer by-" he paused to look at his calendar. "May sixteenth."

When Sharon left, Hotchkiss followed her out into the hall. The older woman put an arm around Sharon's shoulders and steered her behind an abandoned whiteboard. 

"Sergeant, as a fellow police officer and as your superior, I truly hope you accept this transfer. You would have to take on the terrible burdens of additional pay, better hours, and promotion," she said sarcastically. "But it would do the other women of the LAPD good to see you in a position of power. At this time, you are the second-highest ranking woman in the force, myself above you. There are more lower-ranked women, and they need someone to look up to. Someone they can relate to. Besides, I won't be here forever, and when I'm gone I want someone strong and insightful to be the Women's Coordinator." She stared at Sharon pointedly, then slipped her business card into Sharon's hand, turned, and disappeared into the depths of FID.

Sharon stood there for a moment, before retreating back to the main patrol desk, five stories down, to start a late shift. 

The young officer on the desk looked confused when she came in.

"Sarge, you've got the day off."

"What?"

He looked at her strangely. "Computer says you're on administrative leave today, as per FID."

"Oh," she mumbled. Bancroft seriously wanted her to consider his offer. "Thanks."

"Yeah," the man said. "Did FID not tell you they were forcing you to take off? They can be real assholes sometimes, pardon the language."

She smiled weakly and began the walk back to her car, Hotchkiss' card burning a hole in her pocket. 

~*~*~*~*~

Sharon ended up just going home, wondering what to do with all the free time. She called Marcia and made an appointment for late afternoon, then changed into well-worn jeans and an old LAPD tee. She left the business card in her work pants' pocket, though. She didn't want to think about it. She had never considered a transfer, especially one to Internal Affairs. She had always just assumed she would return from maternity leave and rejoin Meriwether on patrol. Ricky and the baby could go to daycare on the days both she and Jack worked, and she would watch them on her days off. Jack was always off by seven, so he could watch them during her night shifts. 

If he doesn't go out drinking, she thought. She squashed the idea immediately. Jack would be there for her.

And to be transfered to Internal Affairs! Who in their right mind would transfer there? She had heard the pay was good, but she wasn't sure that would make up for the blatant disrespect with which IA officers were generally treated. She wasn't sure about the 'administrative' aspect, either. She enjoyed sitting shotgun with Meri and being in the forefront. As far as she knew, FID officers only ventured outside their offices after the perp was dead and the running was done. They stole crime scenes and evidence, even suspects, upon occasion.

"Why the hell would I want to join them?" she asked aloud. "Maybe the dark side has cookies," she added, laughing darkly.

She spent her remaining time cleaning house. It was strange, but she found it almost pleasant to have the house to herself as she scrubbed the place with classical ballet echoing through the stereo.

LB 4

A/N- I apologize for the time between chapters. I had been hoping to get them up much faster. I was out backpacking in the mountains, and then nothing was flowing together right. I'm out in the mountains again for a few days, but this time, I promise I'll write and you'll get new chapters when I'm back. Thanks to all the reviewers who are sticking with me! (:

"Oh, I don't wanna grow up, wish I'd never grown up. It could still be simple."

-Never Grow Up, Taylor Swift

Sharon woke in the middle of the night, with a urgent need to find a trashcan. The bathroom was past Jack's side of the bed, so she threw back the covers and clambered over him, barely pausing as he grunted and woke up. She clamped one hand over her mouth and sprinted out the door.

He joined her in the bathroom a minute later, sat on the floor, and held her hair back. He was very calm about it; he always had been, even with Ricky.

"Pity you get it in the night. It's got to be the most inconvenient thing, hmm?"

She spat into the trashcan, and sat back on her heels. "My sister was the same way."

"Yeah, I remember. We were at your parents' house for Christmas and she was in the room next door. Didn't sleep a wink that whole damn trip." He smiled and laughed softly. " That wasn't entirely her fault, though. It was partially you."

She giggled, coughed, and leaned back into the trashcan.

Jack readjusted his hold on her hair and leaned back against the wall. "I'm glad your parents' room was on the other side of the house. And your brother's room. His snoring masked everything. Do you remember that time we-" he stopped short, laughing. "I still can't say it out loud."

"Just as well," she replied. "I think I'm done."

"Okay. You go back to bed-"

"No, Jack, you have court tomorrow."

"A few minutes either way won't change anything, and that's all it'll take to clean up. Go on."

She nodded, stood, washed up, brushed her teeth again. She had just gotten into bed when he came back in.

"See? I'm all done; it was easy." He joined her and pulled her close.

"I smell awful," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He ran his hands down her back. "All I smell is mint." He gently massaged every bit of her he could reach and she hummed happily. He laughed again and traced his fingers along her legs. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was having Jack's arms tight around her, thinking he was so much better when he was sober.

*~*~*~*

When Sharon woke up the next morning, Jack was already gone. She slipped out of bed and into the kitchen. A slip of paper was tacked to the fridge, with "Sharon" written in block letters at the top. She pulled it out from under the magnet.

SHARON- Left early to finish up a few last-minute things for court. It's just pre-lims today, so I should be done before your appointment. Think about where you want to go to dinner; let me know when we meet up and I'll get reservations. Have a good day. Love, Jack

She snorted and shoved the note into her bag. Jack was following his old, familiar pattern. It was a roller coaster of hills and valleys. He'd come home late and she'd catch him, or he wouldn't come home. After, he'd be on his best behavior, swear to be better, then start slipping away again, leaving early and returning late.

She turned the kettle on and walked back to the bathroom for a shower. She'd skip her run to stay with Ricky. She hung her pajamas over the hook on the back of the bathroom door, turned on the water. Without her morning workout, she took extra time washing her hair. When she finished, the room was filled with rosemary-minty steam. It billowed past into the bedroom when she opened the door. She collected her clean clothes uniform from the chair they were folded over and pulled them on, bemusedly realizing Jack was right, that soon she wouldn't need her belt for anything other than holding her gun, handcuffs, and other tools. She laughed quietly as she pulled her hair back, did her make-up, and left to wake Ricky.

She sat on the edge of his bed and watched him sleep. His blonde hair was strewn about like a halo and his face twitched into a smile. She reached out and shook his shoulder gently. "Ricky, honey, it's time to get up."

He rolled over and blinked up at her. "I had a dream," he said sleepily.

"Yeah?" She got up and started pulling clothes out for him like she did most mornings.

"There was a big dog," he said as he rolled out of bed. "And a ball. And I threw the ball for the dog and we had fun. Can we get a dog, Mommy?" he asked abruptly.

She smiled at him. "Not right now."

"But-"

"Ricky," she said gently. "You're going to have a baby sister or brother soon enough and it's too hard to take care of a baby and a dog." Especially if your dad keeps disappearing like this. 

Ricky huffed at her. "Fine." He took his clothes and trotted off to the bathroom.

Sharon smiled as he went, knowing he'd have forgotten all about dogs by the time he came out for breakfast. She walked out to the kitchen and surveyed the shelves in the pantry before choosing a box of oatmeal. She measured out enough for herself and Ricky and cooked it over the stove, adding raisins and milk as it warmed. When Ricky joined her, she pushed his bowl over to him and spoke.

"Dad was thinking I could pick you up early and we could all go to dinner."

"At a diner?"

"Yes, at a diner. Is there anywhere you'd like to go, particularly?"

"Someplace with mac cheese."

"Macaroni and cheese?" Sharon clarified.

"Yes! Mac cheese!"

Sharon thought about it. "What if we went to an Italian restaurant?"

"Do they have mac cheese?"

"They have all sorts of pasta. You can get it with cheese, or chicken, or tomatoes-"

"Cheese," he said firmly.

"I'll tell Daddy so he can make reservations, then." Sharon began to clear the dishes. "Go get your backpack." She washed the bowls, set the pot to soak, gathered her things, and waited by the door. Ricky came rocketing past a minute later, bag in hand.

*~*~*~*~*

Sharon dropped Ricky at his daycare, and drove to the Parker Center. She parked in her usual spot and walked to the elevators. There was a large crowd of officers, as per usual, but she didn't see Flynn or Provenza. For some reason, she felt relieved not to have to speak with them. When she got in the elevator, a few minutes later, she rode up to the seventh floor, rather than the second. She stepped out, handbag over her shoulder. It was dark in Robbery-Homicide, the blinds drawn and lights off. Apparently they had received a call-out and had yet to return.

She walked through the desks, her shoes thumping softly on the tiles. There was a large office at the back that she assumed was the department head's. When she got close enough she could see the small brass placard: Deputy Chief Mark Stoddard. She opened the door, leaned in, and tossed her report on his desk. It felt wrong to be in the office alone, so she quickly shut the door and hurried back out.

She didn't pass anyone on the was to FID, and it struck her as somewhat humorous. Every other hallway would be swarming with people at this hour. She ducked into their offices, brightly lit this time, and waited for the woman at the front desk to finish her phone conversation.

"How can I help you?"  she asked a moment later.

"I have my report on the-" she paused, trying to remember the name. "The Rogers case from yesterday."

The woman stood and lead Sharon through a warren of desks and portable whiteboards. "Commander Bancroft would like to speak with you."

Sharon frowned. "I thought everything was taken care of already."

The woman shrugged, not bothering to turn around. "I can't say ma'am; all I know is that he requested to speak with you." She knocked on the Commander's door and held it open for Sharon.

Sharon stepped in, report in hand. "Sir?"

"Sit down, Sergeant," Bancroft said pleasantly. "We have a proposal for you." He was seated behind his desk, neatly dressed in a dark gray suit. A tall, hawk-like woman sat across from him. She wore an elegant skirt suit and her ruffled gray hair was cropped short.

Sharon sat next to the woman and placed her report on Bancroft's desk. He picked it up, surprised.

"Quick work, Sergeant."

"I don't like to leave loose ends," she said quietly. "Sir, what-"

He set the report down and looked up. "Sergeant, you're taking leave at the end of October and coming back in December, is that correct?"

"Yes," she replied. "Why-"

The other woman interrupted. "Sergeant Raydor, I am Commander Laurie Hotchkiss, from Special Ops. I am also the Woman's Coordinator for the LAPD. Commander Bancroft asked me to speak with him after you came by his office last night. We have some ideas and thought we'd see if you were interested."

Sharon raised her eyebrows. "Interested in what, ma'am?"

"We wanted to know if you'd be interested in taking over the Professional Standards Bureau."



A/N- I know it's not much, but I wanted you to have something and I promise there will be more in four days (: Thanks for sticking around!