By Her Kind Precepts And Counsels

by Kate04

A/N: I wish I could claim the title as my own, but I borrowed it from Washington Irving. I'm sure he won't mind.

The characters aren't mine, either. Just having a little fun with them. I'll return them unharmed, I promise!

A big 'thank you' to Robin for volunteering as my beta! Because I'm a greedy person, I still claim all mistakes as my own. :-D

"The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves, the resolution not to twist them to fit our own image. If in loving them we do not love what they are, but only their potential likeness to ourselves, then we do not love them: we only love the reflection of ourselves we find in them"

Thomas Merton, "No Man Is an Island"

He couldn't remember when his mom had hugged him the last time. She had often clung to him, desperate to seek her own comfort, but not to comfort him or to let him know she loved him. Her hugs had always made him feel claustrophobic.

Other than that, unless it was to hurt him in some way, he couldn't remember being touched at all. His mother's idiot boyfriends had frequently beaten the crap out of him.

Whenever he had been to a new school, new bullies had beaten him up because he was new, because he didn't wear cool clothes, because he liked to play chess, because he was smart, or for any other thing they found they didn't like about him.

And then there were the men who had come to him on the street. Most of them probably hadn't meant to hurt him, but they had.

Then there was the guy who had tried to kill him – twice, and his life had changed suddenly and thoroughly. It had taken him quite a while to see that for the chance it was, to admit to the fact that there was a person who actually cared about him, not because he had something to give, but because of who he was.

It had taken him a long time to accept her touch and she had given him this time willingly. He wasn't stupid, had noticed how often she had wanted to reach out to him, place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but she hadn't and he was grateful for that.

She had never hurt him, had always been on his side just like she had promised. Sharon was safe, reliable, and trustworthy. People told him how she behaved as if she were his mother. They had no idea, did they? They always gave him weird looks when he got worked up about it. He was pretty sure that Sharon understood, though.

He knew that Sharon had come to think of him as one of her children. She tried not to say it, at least in his presence, but he had heard her almost slip up enough times to know.

His problem wasn't being considered her son, it was seeing her as his mother. He already had a mother. His mother was an alcoholic, a drug-addict, an emotional wreck and she had abandoned him.

So maybe Sharon behaved towards him like a mother, but most certainly not like his mother.

The first time she had hugged him had been the day he had left for a weekend with Daniel Dunn. She had been very gentle about it, giving him a chance to back away if he wanted to.

Since then, he had learned to associate that sweet, floral scent of her shampoo and perfume with feeling secure, feeling loved.

At this moment, standing in her office, his face buried in her hair, he let her scent calm his frazzled nerves, his doubts, the almost paralyzing fear.

"Rusty, what you are is who I love, and all of you is coming home."

He took another deep breath, his tears slowly drying.

No, Sharon Raydor was not his mother. She was his safe haven. She was the one person who would always have his back, protect him, accept him the way he was. She would never hesitate to tell him when he was behaving like an idiot, but she would love him nonetheless. She wasn't his mother. She was Sharon and that was so much more.