a/n- because thank goodness the hiatus is over.
Rusty returned to the murder room after he heard Provenza walk away. He didn't think the lieutenant would push him to talk about the other thing, but he didn't want to take any chances. Sanchez, Tao, and Buzz had already disappeared, likely going home to their respective families. Provenza and Flynn were nowhere to be seen, but Rusty knew they were waiting for Sharon. Sykes was the only one in the room, still in her dress and boots, reading the card on her flowers.
"Hey, uh, Amy, I'm sorry about your case." He didn't know what else to say.
She didn't look up at first, sliding the card back into its envelope. "So am I."
"Is there anything I can do?" There probably wasn't, but he didn't want to hang around the room doing nothing and staying quiet.
"No, but thank you." She smiled at him slightly, and he smiled back, though it was probably more of a grimace.
She clipped her card back into the stand in the vase, and started over to the murder board. There was a bottle of cleaner and a rag on the desk nearest. Rusty grabbed them first and started to erase the unmistakable manifestations of love turned sour. "I'll get it." She seemed to understand, and left him to it, finding another chore for herself.
Rusty didn't know how much later it was when a hand fell lightly on his shoulder. He jumped and turned.
"That board has never looked better." Sharon's attempt at lightheartedness fell flat. She fidgeted with the buttons on her blush sweater. "Are you ready to go home?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. "I'm just going to say goodbye to Andrea, and grab my purse. I'll meet you at the elevators?"
It was a marked difference from where they'd stood even a year ago, when she refused to let him out of her sight. He agreed and walked away to get his own backpack, keeping an eye on her nonetheless.
She met Andrea just outside her office. They both looked tired. They talked quietly for a moment, and then hugged each other. Rusty was surprised. Sharon was a little touchy-feely, but she usually didn't go out of her way to hug people. He watched Andrea squeeze Sharon tightly, then they parted, fingers brushing.
Andy stopped Sharon on her way back with her purse. She smiled at him, and again, they talked in low tones that Rusty couldn't hear. Whatever she said, Flynn nodded agreement, mumbled something else, clapped her gently on the shoulder, and they parted ways. Rusty made himself busy buckling his pack when Sharon came back to him.
"Ready?" Her fingers danced across his shoulders in a now familiar gesture of comfort.
"Yeah."
They walked out in silence, through the long, orange halls. Sharon's heels clicked against the tiles. She pressed the down button with one finger, and they waited. When the elevator arrived, it was empty. They stepped in, and, again, Sharon pressed the button for the garage.
"I'm sorry about your case."
"I am, too," she said quietly. "I wish it hadn't happened this way."
He didn't know what to tell her.
"I'm sorry."
She nodded. "Thank you." She was quiet until they reached the garage, then spoke as they walked towards her little gold sedan. "Is there anything you wanted to talk to me about?"
His heart caught in his throat. "No?" The word came out like a question. "No."
She sent him a sideways glance. "You're sure?"
"Yeah." Not right now. Provenza's twenties were burning a hole in his pocket, and he was sure Sharon could at least smell the smoke, if not outright see the flames.
"Alright." She unlocked the car, glancing into the backseat before swinging into the driver's side. After Sykes had chewed him out the previous summer, he'd noticed Sharon checked her car, too. She wasn't paranoid, he wouldn't say that about her, but she was certainly more cautious than she had been when he'd first met her. Or maybe he had just started picking it up better. She always double-checked that the condo's door was locked, that no one was lurking in her car, that her gun was on her hip, and that he was safe. No one had ever done that for him before.
The ride home was almost normal. She asked if take-out would be alright; she didn't really feel up to cooking. It was? Good, what did he want? No, she wasn't going to pick again. She picked last time; it was his turn. Greek? Well, that was an unusual request, but she knew a good place, on the way home, even. He'd never had stuffed grape leaves? That was going to change. No, he would like them. She was pretty sure he would like them. Yes, it was a little bit like nori. The seaweed. No, she was sure he'd had that. And liked it, even.
They finally made it home. Sharon let them into the condo, and he watched as she kicked her heels off and threw her jacket over her desk chair on the way to her room. She wasn't happy. Her purse was dropped on her desk, and her badge clattered down a moment later. She called something about being just a moment before disappearing into her room.
Four items dropped en route to the bedroom, five if you counted the shoes separately. On a one to ten scale of bad to worse, this constituted a twelve. She almost never left her things laying out.
Rusty took their two paper bags and set out the food on the dining table, along with dishes and silverware. He was about to fill the hot water heater, when it occurred to him that a twelve out of ten probably called for something stronger than tea. He grabbed a wine glass, and pulled the bottle out of the fridge, along with a can of soda.
Sharon shut the door quietly and slowly turned the lock. She just needed a moment. That was all. She unbuttoned the cardigan, a gift from Brenda last Christmas, and set it over the chair. The blouse followed, her slacks, and then she was standing mostly naked in her dark room, unsure what she was planning to do.
Maybe they could have found the kids alive if she hadn't withheld the information from Cee-Cee Logan. She might have cracked sooner. She should have followed up with the luggage and the blood-typing sooner. Perhaps if-
She cut herself off. They had done everything by procedure, done what had seemed best at the time. There was nothing they could change, nothing they'd done wrong. They'd done their absolute best.
She grabbed a throw blanket off the bed- God only knew where her robe was- and wrapped it about herself before racing across the hall to the bathroom. The mirror was carefully avoided until she had washed her face with steaming water and apricot scrub. She looked at her image critically. She looked tired, exhausted really, with deep, violet shadows under her eyes, enhanced slightly by the last vestiges of eyeliner that hadn't washed off. She sighed and pulled her hair back into a ponytail and left her makeup in her drawer. She peeked out and checked the hall, then darted back to her room.
She rummaged for sweatpants and a shirt. Rusty was the only other person in her current social circles who had seen her in sweats, and she intended to keep it that way. They were overlarge, dark grey, with "ABT" printed in curling script on the side and embellished with a dancer en pointe. Her daughter, Cat, had left them behind last time she'd visited. Cat wasn't going to get them back.
Sharon left the case behind her and walked back out to the main room. Rusty had already set the table. Her bottle of wine was out, and she laughed slightly. They were getting to know each other all too well.
"Thank you."
"Yeah."
She could tell that he was holding something back from her, but she didn't want to pry. She was holding back as well. Adoption was a big step, and even assuming Rusty wanted to go through with it, it was far into the future. He didn't need to know now. Whatever he was hiding, she was sure he'd work it out. He had changed from the boy she'd threatened outside her office on her first day to a young man who had a plan for his future, who was kind and at least somewhat more mature. She trusted him. There were so many times his world had gone up in flames, and instead of running away, he had run towards the fire, risking his life on multiple occasions that came readily to mind. Running towards danger wasn't always the smartest choice, and sometimes it wasn't the right choice, but she understood why he did it. She did it, too.
"Rusty?"
"Yeah?"
She reached out and grasped his hand.
"I'm glad you're here." She wasn't entirely sure what she meant by that, but it was true.
A strange expression washed over his face, so quickly she thought she might have imagined it. "I am, too. Glad I'm here. And you. You're here."
She smiled. "Good, because you're stuck with me. At least until that diploma is in your hands."
"Yeah," he echoed. Would she still feel the same if she knew Sharon Beck was only a few dozen miles away? At this point, his personal police captain still ranked higher in his mind than his own mother, but the grounds he was basing everything on seemed to be shifting. She didn't need to know, though. Soon, but not today. Today, they just needed to at least pretend to return to normalcy.
He glanced down at his plate and poked some kind of green roll thing. "What is this, anyway?"