Slightly AU (I think that's what you would call it?) We meet Ricky and Emily in the first season instead of the third.
"Great work. All of you. Let's get out of here," Sharon said to her squad at 4:00 on a Wednesday afternoon. They had just wrapped up a case. After working long hours for the last week, everyone was grateful for an early escape. Sharon found Rusty at an empty table, staring listlessly at his homework. "You ready to go?" Rusty looked down at his phone.
"So early?"
"Yes. We finished the case, so I let everyone go." Rusty slowly packed his book bag and followed Sharon to the elevator. He hadn't been feeling well for the last couple of days, but he was feeling considerably worse today. Sharon working long hours meant that he had been spending long hours at the station, since he was still in "emergency custody." He had caught a few naps in the green chair in her office while she had been either in the murder room or interviewing suspects, so, thankfully, she hadn't noticed. He didn't know how she would react to him being sick, and he wasn't eager to find out. He knew she wouldn't hurt him like some of his former foster parents, or his mother's alcoholic boyfriends, but he knew she would probably be annoyed. With her busy schedule, she wouldn't want to take the time to deal with him, or to risk getting sick and being out of commission. Now that he knew his mother wasn't coming back for him, he knew that living with Sharon was, by far, his best option, so he was trying not to be any trouble, especially since he had trouble keeping his temper in check. He was afraid she would decide he was too much work and dump him back into the system.
When they got home, Sharon decided to take advantage of the early exit from work and cook dinner. She loved cooking, especially now that there was someone else to feed. It seemed silly to cook for just one person. She didn't get home in time to cook dinner very often, though. She got out ingredients for a chicken casserole, which was her favorite recipe of her mother's.
Rusty stood in the living room, trying to decide what to do. He usually did his homework either on the couch or in his room, on days that he didn't finish it at the station. If he went to his room, he would undoubtedly fall asleep, and Sharon would have to wake him for dinner. She would probably notice that he was sick then. He decided to work on the couch, with his back to Sharon's desk. She would probably sit at her desk and work on her computer while dinner cooked, and he wanted to stay out of her line of vision as much as possible. He had looked through the kitchen and bathroom cabinets for Tylenol or any kind of medicine on Monday when Sharon wasn't paying attention, but he hadn't been able to find anything. With 24 hour supervision, he hadn't been able to buy some on his own. He was actually disappointed that Sharon's case was over, because now that she wasn't so busy and preoccupied, he knew it would be more difficult to hide the fact that he was sick. He sat up and stared at an open book until Sharon put the casserole in the oven and sat at her desk. Once she sat down, Rusty knew he had a little while before dinner would be ready. His eyes were growing heavy, and he just needed to close them for a couple of minutes before he finished his homework...Rusty fell asleep to the savory smell of the casserole cooking and the sound of Sharon clacking away on her computer.
After about an hour and a half of working on her computer, Sharon got up to get the casserole out of the oven. She realized she hadn't heard a peep from Rusty. That was odd. She looked over to the couch and saw that he was sound asleep. That was very odd. He was hell on this earth to get out of bed in the mornings, but she had never known him to take a nap in the afternoon. He had just started school, though, and she had been dragging him out of the condo earlier than normal in the mornings because of the case, so it made sense that he was tired. Especially since he hadn't attended school in at least a year, and had to readjust to the early hours and long days.
Something about Rusty had been bothering her for the last couple of days, though. She hadn't been able to put her finger on it. Something from the case had demanded her attention every time she stopped to think about it, so she hadn't had time to dwell on it. After a few minutes of watching him sleep, it finally hit her. The boy was sick. Of course. His cheeks were flushed, and she recalled his eyes looking weak and glassy for the last couple of days. She had written it off to him being tired and hadn't thought anything else of it. God, she was out of practice.
Now what? She thought about her own children. With Ricky, this never would have been an issue. When he was sick, he started complaining at the first sign of discomfort, and didn't stop until after he was well and she had to force him to return to school. Emily was the opposite. Even when she was burning with fever, she would adamantly deny being sick, not wanting to miss school or dance class. For this reason, Sharon was on high alert when she noticed the slightest change in Emily's behavior. She and Emily didn't have the barrier that currently existed between herself and Rusty, though. When Sharon noticed that Emily was sick, she would feel her forehead, take her temperature, order her to stay home, take her to the doctor after a couple of days, if necessary, and keep her home until she was well.
Sharon wasn't sure how to proceed with Rusty, though. For one thing, she didn't even own a thermometer. The one she had while her children lived at home had broken several years ago, and, no longer having children in her home, she had thrown it out without replacing it. She also wasn't positive that Rusty was sick. A simple touch to his forehead would let her know one way or the other, but she wasn't sure how he would accept her touch. He was asleep, though...
Sharon crouched down beside the couch, observing the pained expression on Rusty's face and the fevered flush to his cheeks. She held a tentative hand to his forehead.
Rusty jerked awake and jumped into a sitting position before she could gauge his temperature. "What the hell, Sharon?!"
"I'm sorry. You just look like you're not feeling well. Are you sick?"
"So, you thought you'd scare the living hell out of me?" Rusty said, ignoring her question.
His voice was definitely scratchy. "It wasn't my intention to frighten you. I just wanted to see if you were running a fever."
"I'm not sick. I'm fine. And haven't you heard of a thermometer?"
"Believe it or not, I have. I just don't happen to own one at the moment, because I haven't needed one since the thermometer I did own broke several years ago. Now, if you'll be still for two seconds, I can determine whether I need one now." Sharon sat on the couch and tenderly placed her hand on his forehead to check for a fever. Rusty didn't look uncomfortable, he just seemed surprised at the gesture.
"You feel pretty warm," she said, squeezing his shoulder. "What hurts?"
"Nothing. I told you I'm fine."
"Rusty. If you're not feeling well, I need to know."
Rusty turned and buried his face into the back of the couch.
"All right, fine. Put your shoes on while I get you a change of clothes."
"What? Where are we going?"
"The emergency room. Your fever tells me that you are not fine. If you're too sick to even tell me what's wrong, then I can't help you. You clearly need immediate medical attention."
"God, Sharon, okay. My throat just kind of hurts. Happy?"
"That you answered my question? Yes. That your throat hurts? No." Rusty's eyes widened, and Sharon realized she should clarify her answer. "I just meant that I don't like seeing you in pain. I'm not angry, I'm concerned. Being sick is beyond your control, and I will be here to take care of you until you are well," Sharon said, inwardly fuming at whomever had instilled such fear in him of telling a parental figure that he was sick.
"You don't have to do that, Sharon. I'll be fine. I'm not living in the streets, and there's no danger of me getting hit in the face. This is already a huge upgrade from the last few times I've been sick."
"Oh, honey," Sharon said, the moniker slipping out of her mouth before she could stop it. She studied Rusty for a reaction. He didn't seem annoyed, just once again surprised. Sharon realized what Rusty's biggest problem was. He needed to be shown some love. She put her hands on his warm cheeks, making sure he knew what she was doing first. "How long have you been feeling ill?"
"Since Monday," Rusty responded truthfully, hoping that would show her that he really could take care of himself, since it had already been two days.
Sharon looked surprised. Why hadn't he told her? How had she not noticed? Admittedly, she had been busy and distracted, but she still should have noticed before now that something wasn't right.
"I'm so sorry I haven't noticed before now. You need to tell me when you're not feeling well, Rusty. My 'mother's eye' is a little out of practice. Even if I'm busy at work, I will never be too busy to take care of you. And I will take care of you, whether you like it or not."
Rusty was dumbfounded. He was sick, and undoubtedly a burden, and Sharon was apologizing? What the hell?
Sharon mentally took inventory of her condo. She knew she didn't have a thermometer, but did she even have Tylenol? Doubtful. She got up and started rifling through the kitchen cabinets.
"If you're looking for medicine, there's not any," Rusty called hoarsely from the couch. A pang of guilt hit Sharon. She had no idea when he had searched for medicine, and she should have had some on hand for him. Thank goodness for grocery delivery. Sharon found her phone and ordered a thermometer, medicine for every symptom she could think of, several different kinds of soup, popsicles, bottled water, and Gatorade.
"What color Gatorade do you like?" Sharon asked before completing her order.
"Red."
"I'm ordering groceries. What else do you want?"
Rusty honestly didn't know. "Whatever you get is fine. Thank you."
"All right. If you think of anything you want, let me know. I can place another order tomorrow."
Sharon submitted her order and went into the kitchen. She returned shortly with a glass of water and plates of chicken casserole for herself and Rusty.
"Try to eat this, but it's okay if you don't want it. I'll make you some soup once the groceries are delivered if you would rather have that. You will have to eat something, though."
Rusty accepted the plate from Sharon and slowly began to eat. "This is awesome, Sharon."
Sharon smiled. "I'm glad you like it." She smoothed Rusty's bangs back from his forehead. He only flinched a little this time. "I know what the first order of business is when you're well."
"I know, I know. Civility," Rusty said, remembering their conversation in her car a few days ago.
"No. A haircut." Rusty groaned.
An hour and a half later, the groceries were delivered. Sharon approached Rusty with the thermometer, Tylenol, sore throat medicine, and a bottle of water. She held the thermometer under his tongue. "101.7," she sighed, looking at the thermometer.
"I'm sorry," Rusty said softly.
"Please don't apologize. You can't help it. I'm just worried. Everyone gets sick from time to time. It is not a problem, I promise." Sharon gave Rusty some Tylenol and throat medicine, then brought him a Popsicle and a mug of tea. The popcicle felt good on his throat. No one had ever given him a popcicle, or taken care of him at all, before when he was sick. He hated to admit it, but it felt nice to be cared for.
"Take a shower and get in bed. I'll come watch a movie with you if you can't go to sleep." Rusty got up and walked down the hall. He didn't think sleeping would be a problem. Sharon cleaned the kitchen and sipped a glass of wine while Rusty was taking a shower. She walked back to his room with a bottle of water a few minutes after she heard him leave the bathroom. He was under his covers, almost asleep. She sat on the side of his bed and felt his forehead.
"Call me if you need me," Sharon said softly. "It doesn't matter if I'm asleep." Rusty nodded and rolled over. Sharon hesitantly started rubbing his back, pleased when he didn't flinch or move away from her.
"Thanks, Sharon," Rusty mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.
"You're welcome, honey. Feel better." Once she was sure he was asleep, Sharon leaned down and kissed his warm forehead and left the room, leaving the door ajar.
