A/N: This is probably the first time I've done a writing prompt. But I noticed on tumblr that knowthatiloveyou was interested in reading some fic involving Sharon as a grandmother. I've rarely written anything with children so I thought it would be a challenge.
Just FYI, I've written it without mentioning who Sharon's partner is. So feel free to insert the person of your choice into the story :)
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Lindsey hunched her shoulders over. She would lift one shoulder, using it to lazily adjust her headphones, before letting it sink and hang like an unwanted limb. She may have looked up briefly at Sharon as she approached, but it would have been too quick for either woman to acknowledge. It was only the screaming of a soon to be mother in the adjacent room that caused both women to look up. They stared at the door to the delivery room, as the scream died down once again, to the sound of panting and short breaths.
"You're alone?" The girl asked, finally deciding to acknowledge Sharon's presence.
"For now. You are my granddaughter Lindsey, and I wanted to spend time with you before my grandson arrives." Sharon replied, taking the seat next to the girl.
Lindsey turned her head away from Sharon and readjusted herself so she was no longer facing her. "I'm not your granddaughter Detective, and I'm twelve years old, I don't need a babysitter."
Sharon smiled without parting her lips. She looked behind her down the hall, then back at the girl who still continued not to face her.
"I'm glad you're here. I was worried when Rusty texted me. He told me you were sitting out here on your own. Considering you've run off six times in the last two months I don't know if I necessarily approve of you sitting here by yourself. But you've stayed here, so now I'm curious…"
Lindsey tapped a button on her reader and barely turning around she picked up the paper bag next to her. "They're bribing me with food, and entertainment," she added, tapping on the reader with her free hand.
Sharon raised an eyebrow and tried edging her head up to look in the paper bag. Lindsey rolled her eyes and put the paper bag back where it had been before; on the other side of her, away from the curious eyes of the detective.
"I'm not sharing," she said, putting her headphones back on and tapping at her reader again.
Sharon licked her bottom lip and crossed her arms in front of her. She turned her head slightly to loosen her neck before leaning back in her chair and staring at the wall opposite her.
Rusty had been the first of her children to start a family, and it had both surprised and delighted her. She was particularly pleased with his and Gus' decision to foster a child. She wasn't sure how they would manage with a twelve year old. It was a difficult age. But she hoped Rusty's own experiences with the foster system could help him approach the child in a sensitive, and understanding manner. It had also surprised her that within 3 months of looking after Lindsey, another child was becoming a possibility.
It had been Serena, a mutual friend of Rusty and Gus that had approached them wanting to know if they would be interested in helping her and her girlfriend have a child. Having discussed the issue between them, they had decided that they would be willing to help if they too could be a part of the child's life. Sharon had been supportive, but cautious. Having integrated two families before, she was worried how Lindsey would react to her new brother.
"Ehh why would you do that?" Lindsey said, pushing her headphones off and flinging the reader to the seat next to her.
"Something wrong?" Sharon asked, noticing Lindsey starting to slump in her seat again.
"Oh it's nothing you'd understand."
Argghhhhhhhh…
Lindsey put her hands over her ears and looked between Sharon and the door to the delivery room.
"Why on earth would anyone put themselves through that? It sounds like she's being ripped in half."
Sharon put her hands on either side of Lindsey's head. Turning the young girl to face her, she took Lindsey's hands and gently removed them from her ears.
"How long is this going to go on for?" The girl asked.
"As long as it takes."
Lindsey looked down at her hands and realised Sharon was still holding them. She looked up at the older woman again and scrutinised her smile before letting go.
"I only have three more chapters in this book, and if they're as bad as the last one then I don't know why I should bother."
Sharon wasn't concerned about Lindsey's book. She had questions of her own; questions she was worried her son had yet to address.
"Lindsey, forget the book for a moment. Why do you keep running away?" Sharon asked.
Lindsey straightened herself in her chair and pushed back a stray, frustrating lock of curly brown hair before rolling her eyes at Sharon.
"I didn't runaway, I was looking for something." she replied, crossing her arms in front of her.
"You know I have experience in looking for people and all sorts of things. If you tell me what you were looking for maybe I could help you find it."
Lindsey looked Sharon up and down. She didn't look like a cop, but then all the cops she had met were younger and wore uniforms. Sharon looked like a school teacher, and a nosy one at that.
"It doesn't matter anymore. What I was looking for is gone."
Lindsey stared at a small crack of paint on the wall opposite her. This hospital was awful. The vending machine didn't work, the nurses had ugly uniforms, and the paint was a gross yellow colour that reminded Lindsey of off milk. She had no idea why Rusty would bring Serena here, or why her and Georgia had agreed to the place. If she only had a few more hours left with her current foster parents, she had hoped to be in a place nicer than this, and with less screaming.
"Does that mean you aren't going to run away anymore?" Sharon asked.
Lindsey slapped her hands down on the chairs either side of her and pushed herself up until she was standing opposite a sitting Sharon. "What is your obsession with me running away?! It's not like I'm going to be here for much longer, so what would it matter if I did?"
Sharon reached out a hand and quietly asked Lindsey to sit down. Lindsey looked around her. She wasn't keen to take Sharon's hand, but she felt embarrassed by all the eyes that were watching her after her outburst. Ignoring Sharon's hand, she sat down with her arms across her chest.
"Lindsey..." Sharon started before receiving a warning look from the girl. "Lindsey, tell me about the book you're reading."
"Why?"
Sharon shuffled forward in her seat and leaned in closer, "Are you going to let me ask you about anything else?"
"No."
"Then tell me, what's got you so interested in this story."
Lindsey stared at Sharon. The detective obviously had too much time on her hands since retiring. No one her age should be interested in young adult fantasy, and no young adult should have to explain the concepts to someone clearly outside the recommended reading age.
Lindsey sighed. The woman wasn't going to relent till she talked to her about something. "Ok, but we make a deal.."
"I'm good with deals," Sharon replied raising her hands in some kind of amused surrender.
Lindsey couldn't figure out why the other woman was so amused, so she shook her head and continued. "No making fun of me, and I won't make fun of whatever stupid old people thing you're interested in. Deal?"
Sharon nodded. "Deal."
"So in the book there are these kids who are magicians, or at least they pretend to be, and all their tricks are really lame. You know the kind; trick cards, rabbits coming out of hats, abracadabra — it's all very silly. That is, until they make friends with this one kid who actually shows them real magic. He's kind of creepy but they are so impressed that they want to know more. The kid then offers them each a skill, but it will be up to them to master the skill. All the kids are so eager to be real magicians that they say yes straight away without really thinking about it, and also cause they're idiots. So creepy kid closes his eyes for a few minutes, opens them again and says it's done, then he walks away. The kids are confused and yell out to the kid who completely ignores them as he wanders off. They all think it's pretty stupid, so they laugh it off and go home. The next morning however, they all start to realise something has changed. One boy can make animals talk, another boy can read minds, one of the girls can lift objects just by thinking about them, and the other girl - the best one, can run really fast, and sometimes fly. Like you just wouldn't believe the speeds she can make. The story is all about them figuring out how to control their powers and what happens to them along the way."
"I see, and the thing that annoyed you earlier had something to do with your favourite character - the running, flying girl?"
"Hmm, yeah. How did you know?"
Sharon smiled at Lindsey and nodded her head to the side. "I've raised three children. One of whom threw a copy of Charlotte's Web across the room as soon as their favourite character died."
"Emily did that?" Lindsey asked.
"No actually, it was Ricky. He was a very sensitive child... At the time." Sharon added.
Lindsey looked at Sharon like she didn't believe her, before continuing. "Well this character, Diana was going to give up her power. Another character, this complete dork called Eric, found a way for her to lose her power, and she actually decided it would be a good idea. Why would anyone want to give up that kind of power? I mean sure, she'd occasionally run too fast, and end up hitting a wall, but if she was just patient, she could find a way to control it. Oh, it would be so cool to be that fast. You'd never be late for anything, and—"
"Lindsey, what did you mean when you said you wouldn't be here much longer?"
"Were you even listening to me just then?" Lindsey asked in disbelief.
"Of course, I just—"
"Oh don't act like you don't know what's going on. I'm a foster kid, that means temporary. That means as soon as Rusty junior is born, I get picked up by DCFS and put back in a home for some other family to have a test run with. I'm like a well used library book that no one reads for very long before shelving."
Sharon turned her head slightly so she could observe the girl next to her. After her rant, Lindsey had slumped back in her chair. Her jaw was tightened, and her lips kept adjusting themselves from side to side. She was reining in something; anger, fear - probably resentment, all under the cover of a joke at her own expense. Sharon reached out her hand. She was cautious; too cautious as she thought better of it, and pulled away.
"Lindsey," she spoke in a quiet, soft tone.
The girl's eyes motioned down, but her face remained still.
"Lindsey, the baby isn't replacing you. No one is replacing you. You're not a book, or any other throw away object."
Lindsey looked down at lap. Her hands were empty, and she wasn't sure what to do with them.
"Why would they keep something old, when they'll have something new?" Lindsey asked, barely above a whisper.
Sharon felt her throat tighten and her eyes water. She looked down for a moment, and gathered herself before looking back up at Lindsey.
"Because they love you. I love you. You aren't," Sharon stopped. Taking a moment to swallow before continuing. "… you won't be replaced."
Lindsey didn't look at Sharon, instead she turned away. Picking up her food bag, Lindsey passed it to the woman.
"They're going cold, but you can have some if you like."
Sharon took the bag and looked in it with concern.
"They're fries Detective. You do eat fries don't you? I mean it's not like I'm going to ask for one of those hideous lentil burgers you make Rusty buy."
"I've been known to eat fries," Sharon replied, dipping her hand in the bag.
"I'm not sure I believe you, but it's not like I have anything else to offer."
Sharon ate some fries, and then carefully rubbed her hands on a napkin to get rid of the salt.
"I have to ask—" Sharon began.
"Do you though?" Lindsey replied, taking a couple of fries for herself.
"Earlier, when you said you were looking for something, were you looking for your father?" Sharon continued.
"You really just can't help yourself, can you Detective?"
Sharon shrugged her shoulders. She smiled in a genuine, almost concerned way that kind of annoyed Lindsey.
"If you must know I was looking for a book; a hardback copy of Oliver Twist."
"A book? If you were that keen on a book I'm sure Rusty could have bought one for you."
"It's not just any book. It's old, and the spine is a little loose in places, and it smells like tobacco. But I needed to know if he'd left it behind."
"Oh, go on," Sharon encouraged.
"My father liked to move around a lot, but it always took him a while to decide on the perfect place. He didn't like too many windows because he hated curtains, and he'd complain that all the sunlight would make it too hot. He didn't like carpeted houses either. He said they concealed too much and absorbed the smell of every person who'd ever lived there. He wasn't worried so much about the kitchen, but he had no time for a place without a decent bath. He'd often spend a good part of Sunday morning soaking in the tub, listening to the radio and ranting back at the sportscasters. I mean I'm sure he knew they couldn't hear him, at least most of the time anyway. But he did enjoy a lively debate, even if it was just with himself..."
Lindsey pushed her hair back. Frustrated it would never sit properly behind her ears like everyone else's hair seemed to do. She sighed loudly and sunk back in her chair.
"...the book was part of him. He'd go for a while, leaving it behind with me, and when he'd come back he'd grab the book, and I'd have to race after him, grabbing whatever I could carry. Sometimes I'd leave my own stuff behind, and he'd laugh about it saying one day I'd be too slow to catch him…"
Lindsey took a deep breath before continuing.
"…He'd braid my hair, and buy new things to replace all the things I'd left behind, and we'd be good. We'd always be good for a least a couple of months before he'd get itchy. He'd say the itching was a sign, a sign to keep moving. I just thought he should get a cream, like the kind you get for mosquito bites. But he'd just shake the idea off and take more baths...I hate baths. I never understood why anyone would want to sit in their own dirt for so long. It makes you turn wrinkly and old, like a raisin..."
Lindsey stopped, and began staring at the crack on the wall again. She was sure the paint had crinkled more just in the time they'd been sitting there. While she watched the paint, she felt a hand reach out and hold the one she left on her lap. She looked down at the hand that held her own, and followed it till she could see the face of the person it belonged to.
She was waiting — listening Lindsey guessed.
Lindsey swallowed, and looked back down at their hands. "I was too slow."
Sharon leaned forward in her chair. More then anything she wanted to hold the girl, but she knew that even the gentle grip she had on Lindsey's hand was a tentative one. A touch that could easily be broken by assuming too much. So she looked for the girl. She sought out her eyes, willing Lindsey to turn and face her. The girl must have sensed Sharon's eyes on her, and looked up at the older woman. Seeing Sharon through her own unshed tears, she wondered if it was okay to hug her.
Argghhhhhhhh…
"Oh my god that was louder then before!" Lindsey shouted, forgetting her surroundings again, and the faces of the other guests in the waiting room.
Sharon stood up and tried to look for Rusty, Gus, or anyone from the delivery room to tell her what was going on. After a few moments of agitated quiet she started to hear the most comforting sound. The very familiar sound of a baby crying. She found her hand come to her chest as she felt her breath release and her shoulders slacken. As her breathing calmed, she turned to her side to see Lindsey. The girl's eyes were looking back and forth, trying to take in the sounds of the newly born child and the flutter of activity from the other room.
"Detective," Lindsey said.
Sharon turned to the girl's voice and found in the time that she had been getting her breath back, Lindsey had come to her side and reached for her hand.
"Detective. I mean, Sharon. You should go see your grandson. Rusty will need you."
"I umm… I don't want to leave you."
Lindsey raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. "We can't both go in there. They've already got a mother in there, her girlfriend, and two fathers. Anymore then you, and the hospital will have to cater the event."
Sharon laughed at the girl. She reached out her hand and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Holding her hand against the girl's ear she sort out something in her eyes, something that would help her believe that if she left, the girl would still be here when she returned.
Lindsey took Sharon's hand and held it for a moment, before pulling it away. Turning back to the chair she had been sitting on, she picked up her reader.
"Here, take it." Lindsey said.
Sharon looked down at the reader Lindsey had passed her, and then back at Lindsey's face.
"I'll sit here. I should finished my fries, and I'd like… I guess I'd like to see what staying is like."
Sharon clutched the reader to her chest. She saw it as the anchor that would keep Lindsey here. A simple object — a promise that she would stay. Nodding, Sharon decided to take a chance and kiss the girl's forehead. As she pulled back, she heard the baby crying once more, and her own son making cooing noises at the newborn. It made both women laugh, and Sharon stepped back and looked at Lindsey. She opened the door to the delivery room, and turned back to Lindsey, checking her one last time.
Sharon smiled at the girl; happy, content, and knowing she would stay.