a/n- I'm sorry. I was watching Saving Grace and this one song came on and the idea hit me. 

Sharon stood before the full-length mirror in her bathroom, slowly doing the buttons on her navy dress uniform. The uniform was stiff, hardly worn, but its bars, buttons, and her brassy name-tag gleamed. She pinned the two silver captain's bars to her collar and straightened her tie.

Her belt was in the living room, resting on the back of the sofa with her uniform's plastic dry-cleaning bag. She walked out to get it, footsteps echoing in the silent condo. She stood, with one hand on the belt, when the silence suddenly became suffocating. She ran to the French doors to the balcony and threw them open. The noise of traffic far below filtered over her. She leaned over the railing, gasping, for a moment.

She stood stiffly, then. Her make-up was already done, her tears shed, and she didn't want to cry again. Maybe it was old-fashioned, but her team needed her to lead them, and she would never permit herself to show weakness before them. It sounded like something Rusty would say.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she stepped back inside, slamming the doors shut and grabbing the belt to thread it through her pants, then buckling it tightly. Her black shoes were by the door. She had shined them earlier, so she fetched them and pulled them on, doing the laces up without thinking.

In a flash of insight, she realized she didn't remember half of what she'd done in the past twenty-four hours. The day had passed in a fog, with only a few moments sticking out. Provenza offering her a cup of coffee back at the station. Pope, dismissing her and the team for the day, and saying they could all have the next forty-eight hours off, that Taylor would take their cases. Flynn's offer to pick her up and drive her to the funeral.

Flynn. He'd be here soon, she realized. She looked at her reflection in the window, smoothing her hair back, pressing the folds of her shirt, and donning her cap. The twin badges on her breast and the cap flashed white in the sun. She tilted her head slightly, to better see her face. It was vain, to spend so long before a mirror, but she wanted anything as a distraction. Her make-up was the darkest it had been in a while, thick eyeliner, dark mascara, but it suited her purposes. It concealed the redness of her eyes.

Someone knocked at the door, and she jumped. It was probably Flynn, on time, for once. She walked over and pulled the door open, revealing her lieutenant. He looked dapper, his uniform as neat as hers. His hair was neatly combed, and he had his hat tucked under one arm.

Flynn was slightly surprised to see Sharon looking so well to put together. But then, he thought, he'd never seen her any other way. She looked tired though, and more like the woman he remembered from FID: dark eyes, sharp angles, and a somber expression.

"Sharon," he said politely.

"Andy."

"Are you ready to go to-?" He broke off.

"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, I suppose so." She glanced around the condo, to make sure the electronics were off, and saw the chessboard sitting in its place on the bookshelf. She darted over to it, grabbed the white queen, and slipped it into her pocket. When she rejoined Flynn, he was looking down, pretending not to see anything. "Let's go."

When they were in his car, he looked at her as he turned the ignition. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

She nodded. "We all are, but there's not a thing we could have done. Not a damn thing," she murmured.

"I know. It doesn't help, though, does it?"

"No. I just keep going over it, again and again, looking for something we missed, some place we dropped the ball. Maybe-" she looked up, startled, as Flynn placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't haunt yourself with 'maybe.' Maybe we could have done this, or that, but we didn't. We did what we thought was best. No one saw it coming the way it did. He wouldn't want you spending the rest of your life wondering what you did wrong. He'd want you to keep it from happening again, to someone else."

Sharon smiled faintly. "Yes."

Flynn leaned over, across the emergency brake, and kissed her cheek chastely. "Then let's get going, Captain. And don't you worry, we'll find the bastard who did it and make him pay."

"He'll pay dearly," she replied softly. "Quite dearly."