A/N: I know, twice in one week! I'm productive! Mostly I'm just making up for those missing weeks while I was internet-less and/or graduating and finishing up finals. Anyway. I would like to warn you before you begin: this is dark. Like, really dark. I've rated everything T up to this point just to be safe, but this is the first one that pushes that rating a little. So, fair warning.
Disclaimer: I am not James Duff. If I were, I would be off impressing Mary McDonnell with my dazzling personality and inviting her to slumber parties so we can braid each other's hair and chat deep into the night. Granted, if I'm James Duff in that situation, she wouldn't have much to braid… Anyway. Clearly not me. Just playing in his sandbox.
Sharon needed comfort food tonight.
They were in dire need of groceries, she reminded herself as she pushed the cart towards the produce. But this grocery run would be about more than milk and eggs. She and Rusty both needed something good tonight after the day they'd had. It had started with that young man shot dead in his tracks, a seemingly open-and-shut case of justifiable homicide; before it had turned into something so much worse. But it wasn't just the difficulty of a case that seemed to have crawled into her very being and taken up residence there, a case that she knew would stay with her long after they had solved it; no, on top it all was that little unexpected visit that had just frustrated and infuriated her to no end.
"Oh, that woman," Sharon muttered to herself as she picked through the produce, selecting some kale, a head of romaine lettuce, a few carrots and some tomatoes, setting them all in the cart before her. Sharon had made a career out of maintaining outward neutrality in uncomfortable situations and refusing to allow personal slights to get to her, but it was a different story when it came to her children. And yes, Rusty was in that category. She had, of course, maintained her cool with Mrs. Slater. Allowing her "Xena-with-a-badge" streak, as her daughter Beth called it, to emerge would not be as effective with this woman as it had been with, say Chief Johnson or Father Healy at St. Joseph's. Sharon was a woman with a short skirt and a long jacket, and Mrs. Slater had immediately struck Sharon as someone who responded to the former rather than the latter. She'd smiled and nodded while Mrs. Slater insinuated that Rusty wasn't good enough for her daughter. She'd set aside her exasperation with Rusty and his obvious attempt to distance himself from a relationship he clearly hadn't intended to get so serious. And she had done her best to make it possible for Rusty and Chris to remain friends. But that last comment still stung. My husband and I both appreciate the personal sacrifice you've made to give Rusty a home. It's quite…quite admirable. Mrs. Slater had made it very clear that while Sharon might be on their level, Rusty was most certainly not. Sharon shook her head as she looked over the eggs and chose a carton to join the produce in her cart.
Then there had been that horrifying moment when she had realized that her victim was also a victim of childhood sexual abuse and simultaneously seen Rusty's reaction to that revelation. It was strange how sometimes the trivial nature of Rusty's life now, with her, distracted Sharon from the reminders of his decidedly un-trivial past. The point was, they were both in need of some comfort food tonight. And not just the usual ice cream or junk food. This was a special occasion. Yes, her tough night wasn't quite over yet. There was still a delicate conversation with Rusty to be had. Sharon knew that this was another of those moments where she had the rare opportunity to impart a lifelong lesson upon Rusty. But that prospect in no way discouraged her in her quest for comfort food.
Sharon moved away from the produce now, thinking hard about what Rusty would need tonight. With surprise, she realized that she didn't know what Rusty would want as special, this-day-really-sucked-so-just-this-once-let's-eat-our-feelings-and-not-give-a-crap-about-the-health-benefits comfort food. She'd already picked up half of her go-to special treat. It was sitting in the bottom of the cart, nestled with the other produce. But what would Rusty want? Well, she could probably just get him something like what her other kids craved on nights like these, Sharon reasoned. Sharon rolled over to the "junk" aisle. Alright, it wasn't actually called that, it was probably something like "snacks and sweets," but it was junk. Which is what she was going for. She pushed the cart about half-way down the aisle, stopping near the cookies and chips. Beth had always loved those dark chocolate Milano cookies, so she grabbed a package and tossed them in the cart. Ricky always craved that extra buttery popcorn, so she found a box of that and tossed it in too. She continued down the aisle, looking for the final bit of her comfort food buffet and placing it with the rest.
The drive home passed mostly without incident. It was nice, driving home alone in the dark. Getting a little time on her own after such an emotionally fraught day. Listening to the last few minutes of "All Things Considered" on the radio. It was nice.
Eventually she made it into the parking structure and up to the elevator in her building. The first part of this evening was not going to be fun, that was certain. She braced herself as she turned her keys in the lock. No matter how light and kind Sharon attempted to keep this conversation, Rusty was bound to lash out. But that was his way. She pushed the door open.
She caught a glimpse of Rusty disappearing down the hallway toward his room as she entered, an obvious attempt to avoid the conversation they both knew had to happen at some point tonight. She sighed inwardly. She'd always hoped he'd never want to run from her. A small part of her ached at the thought. But he wasn't running away, she reasoned. Honestly, getting him to fight with her rather than just run was a step in the right direction. He did need to learn to face things. Sharon just hoped it wouldn't be too bad tonight.
"Hey."
"Hey." Rusty's voice called back to her from the hallway. "I was just going to bed."
Sharon closed the door behind her and raised her voice slightly to stop Rusty in his valiant attempt to escape. "You had dinner yet?"
Sharon walked more fully into the apartment as Rusty spoke behind her. "Yeah. Twice, actually." Sharon continued toward the end table and suppressed a snicker. Good thing she'd made it to the grocery store. Sometimes she forgot what it was like to have a teenage boy in the house.
She swung her bag off her shoulder and set her keys on the table with a clatter as she began to speak. "I had a very," Sharon lifted the grocery bag more securely in her hands and began to walk towards the kitchen, "interesting conversation with Kris's Mom." She finally turned to face him as she reached the kitchen. "You made quite an impression on Mr. and Mrs. Slater." She looked at him meaningfully for a moment, maintaining a light tone while making it clear that Rusty was not getting out of this particular conversation. She left it there, continuing into the kitchen to set down the groceries.
Sharon felt, rather than heard the change come over Rusty down the hall. She could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Despite the fight currently hurtling toward them, she couldn't help but feel a little victorious. There was a time when Rusty would have just cut and run from an emotional conversation like this one.
"They were poking around in my life, Sharon," Rusty's voice was angry and defensive. "So I got them to back off."
Sharon came back out of the kitchen to face him. He had come to stand by the end table now.
"If you just want to be friends with Kris," she began calmly, maintaining her light tone steadily, "you could tell her." Sharon emphasized the last words, leaving Rusty without any doubt as to her thoughts on the matter.
Rusty scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, come on." His voice was still angry and not a little venomous. "You're still married to someone you haven't lived with in twenty years, and you're giving me break-up advice right now?!"
Sharon was silent. She thought that was a little unnecessarily harsh. But it wasn't anything she hadn't heard before. Yet it still stung. She looked at him quietly for a moment, gathering herself to respond. Before she could however, Rusty started again.
"Sharon. I'm-I'm sorry." His voice was quieter now, apologetic. He shook his head and looked away from her.
Sharon nodded as he spoke. He was getting better at this, growing. If that was all the lashing out she had to expect from him tonight, then she could count herself lucky. It was nice to see him pull it together so quickly without any prompting. He was turning into such a smart, competent young man. It was such a wonderful thing to see; it made all the teenage angst and brief flashes of anger directed at her worth it. She opened her mouth to reassure him, but he was already speaking again.
"It's just, you-you you come in here," Rusty continued, his voice still slightly defensive, "start talking, acting-acting like I did something wrong."
Sharon thought for a moment. Had she done that? She had come in here bracing herself for a fight, it was true. But had she pushed him to this place? Maybe a little, she relented. But only because she'd seen an opportunity for a greater lesson.
"And—" Rusty stopped, his voice growing quiet and sad. "That kid, Matteo, Matty, whatever his name was, he had a sad stack of cards in his lap."
Sharon's heart sank. It was strange how sometimes they could be talking about something as normal as his friends and homework, or at least she thought that was what they were talking about, and suddenly the reminder of his past would come up between them like a punch to the gut. There was a part of her though, the part that had inwardly rejoiced when he had abandoned his retreat and come out swinging, that took pleasure in it. She had seen his face in the Murder Room earlier. She had known he wasn't alright. In the not-so-distant past, Rusty would have held it all in and allowed it to fester, and Sharon probably would have let him. But instead he was coming to her, telling her what was bothering him. And it made her proud.
Sharon struggled to keep her face neutral as Rusty continued. "And thirteen is… is really young for all that. It's really young."
Sharon finally spoke. "Fifteen is really young for all that too."
Twenty is young for all that, she thought. They were always so young.
It was dark when she entered the apartment that night. Lacey must have already gone to bed; Sharon had had to release the deadbolt and refasten it after she had entered. Two twenty-year-old women living this close to LA, they were always careful about the deadbolt. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the light shining through the crack in the bottom of the door at the end of the hall. Sharon could hear the water running. But the water didn't completely mask the strange alternating heaving and whining sound coming from the bathroom as well. Something was wrong. She felt her way down the hallway, stopping briefly to kick off her heels and swing her bag off her shoulder, leaving both in the open doorway to her bedroom on the right as she passed. She proceeded cautiously to the closed door at the end of the hallway, and knocked softly.
"Lacey?" She spoke quietly through the door, her lips close to the opening, her hand resting on the knob, not turning it. The odd heaving and whining sound stopped, but there was no answer over the sound of the running bathwater. "Lacey," Sharon said again, a little louder this time. "Are you all right?" There was still no answer. "Lacey, should I call David?" She was growing more concerned, wondering if maybe her roommate's boyfriend might be able to help.
She heard movement. The scrabbling sound of nails on linoleum. Something heavy sliding across the floor. She felt the doorknob turn slowly in her hand and the door slowly opened to reveal a thin strip of light.
"Please don't call David." Lacey's voice was quiet but insistent.
"Are you sure?" Sharon asked as she moved to open the door wider. "Maybe he could h— Oh my God." Sharon gasped as she finally opened the door wide enough to reveal her friend. "What did he do to you?" Sharon fell down to her knees at the door, the hallway flooded with light now.
Lacey was sitting on the bathroom floor, her back against the wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. Her dark blond hair was dyed slightly red on one side, matted with dried blood from a nasty cut on the left side of her face. Her nose was a greenish purple color that had spread to the undersides of her eyes and cheeks. It hung strangely on her face, seemingly out of place somehow. There were small shallow cuts all along the right side of her face and neck, disappearing beneath the long ratty T-shirt she wore. Sharon could see a bruise spreading along Lacey's right leg, starting just above the knee and expanding up her thigh. Lacey moved her arm to push the door closed behind Sharon as Sharon came to sit on the floor in front of her, and Sharon could see small cuts on Lacey's knuckles and fingers, accompanied by small scrapes and bruises on her arm. The air smelled faintly of the vomit Sharon now saw on the toilet and something dark and sweet, blood, Sharon thought with horror.
Sharon reached over to the bathtub and turned off the water swiftly. The tub was full.
"I thought you were with Jack tonight." Lacey made a valiant attempt at a smile. It looked more like a grimace. Sharon tried not to wince.
"I was," she said quietly. "But it's late, and I have Con Law at nine a.m." She spoke in that calm, quiet way that always accompanied a crisis. "You know I don't like to stay out after eleven on a school night." She slowly reached up to smooth Lacey's matted hair away from her face, but stopped when Lacey flinched away from her. Sharon clenched her hand into a tight fist as she retracted it, burying it deep into the folds of the skirt on her lap. Her eyes followed her fist down to her skirt and stayed there as she murmured, "You gonna tell me what happened, Lacey?"
Silence.
"Did David do this to you?" Sharon asked, her eyes still in her lap. Her fingers fluttered and picked nervously at her skirt.
"Yes."
The answer came as a whisper, a quiet wind through a forest thick with hesitation. Sharon finally looked up to ensure that the sound had come from her friend before her. "I need to know exactly what happened." She said it gently, but left no room for misunderstanding.
"Okay." Lacey sighed shakily, finally sweeping her hair out of her face and meeting Sharon's calm, steady green eyes with her own brown ones. "We went out to dinner," Lacey started softly. "And it was nice. I wore that green dress that David always says he likes. And he brought me flowers. Daisies and daffodils, like I like."
Sharon nodded and moved her hand to rest on the floor next to Lacey; palm up and open, an invitation. Lacey looked at it for a moment, but didn't take it.
"Then after dinner," she continued, and her voice trembled, "he asked if I wanted t-to go do something else. And I s-said no." She blinked a few times and looked up, speaking to the ceiling now. "I t-told him I had an early class and- and I needed to get home."
Her eyes still on the ceiling, her left hand slipped down from around her knees and came to rest in Sharon's still open one. Sharon squeezed it softly.
"So he started to drive me home. It was fun." Lacey's eyes came back to Sharon's. "You'd have liked it. 'Born to Run' came on the radio, and David was singing along to it. Badly." Sharon smiled weakly back, stroking the back of Lacey's hand with her thumb. "Someday girl I don't know when…" Lacey started to sing softly. "We're gonna get to that place, where we really wanna go." She looked into Sharon's eyes, pleading sadly.
"And we'll walk in the sun." Sharon sang quietly. "But til then tramps like us…"
"Baby we were born to run." Their voices came together for the last line, a sad echo of the once jubilant tune.
Sharon looked at Lacey for a long moment. Reassuring, encouraging, insistent, all at once. Finally Lacey nodded and tore her eyes away from the intensity of Sharon's stare. She looked down at their still-joined hands and inhaled deeply.
"Then David parked in the lot like he usually does." Lacey shook her head confusedly. "But he parked a few rows back, away from the building, and I couldn't figure out why. There was plenty of room." She looked over at the tub now, her voice slightly muffled as she turned away from Sharon. "And then… He started to kiss me goodnight. But he was—he was going too fast." Lacey's head turned back to Sharon. Lacey brought her knees in more tightly to her chest. Her chin was nearly resting on them now. Their eyes met again and a single tear rolled down Lacey's scratched and bruised cheek. Lacey brought up her free hand and wiped the tear away angrily. "Sorry," she whispered into her knees.
Sharon brought her free left hand up under Lacey's chin, bringing the brown eyes back up to Sharon's green ones. This time, Lacey didn't flinch away from her touch. "No," Sharon said quietly but forcefully. "You do not apologize for this. Ever." She continued to look forcefully into her friend's eyes. Sharon had never done this before. Never encountered something this close, this real. But she'd done the reading, seen the studies, knew the issues. And somehow she just knew instinctively how to react. It seemed that minor in Gender Studies wasn't the complete waste of time her mother had claimed it to be. "Okay?" Sharon looked insistently at Lacey. Her friend nodded, and wiped away a few more tears. "Okay." Sharon sighed. Her immediate thought upon finding Lacey in the bathroom in her current state was just simple assault. But the way things were going, it looked increasingly like… No. Sharon stopped her train of thought. She didn't want to go there until she had to. She wasn't the right person for that. There were rules about who talked to people in situations like that, right? Or there should be. How could Sharon possibly…? "Okay," she said again. "What happened next?"
Lacey looked down at her knees again. "I pushed him away. I told him to stop." She inhaled deeply. "And he got so mad. He started yelling at me. He was shouting that I was…" She stopped again to wipe away more tears. "I was an un-ungrateful b-bitch, and that he deserved better. We'd only b-been going out f-for a month!" she cried, the tears flowing freely now.
Sharon patted her hand softly, nodding sympathetically.
"I was afraid, Sharon. I'd never seen him like that. So I opened the door and jumped out of the car." Lacey was speaking quickly now. "B-but I had to come past his side of the c-car to get to the apartment building. And I was r-running around the car and he opened the d-door and it knocked me over." She rubbed the growing bruise on her leg at the memory. "And he l-leaned over me and asked if-if I liked it rough. And s-said he was going t-to give it to me." She took a deep calming breath. "And he p-pulled me up and threw m-me against the door. Hard. The door closed, and m-my head cracked the glass. I kicked and p-punched but it didn't help. The g-glass shattered against m-my face. There w-were shards everywhere. I heard s-something crack. I was cold. My d-dress felt strange. Like it-it was there, but n-not really."
Lacey stopped and buried her face in her knees for a few moments. Sharon could hear her muffled sobs, see her shoulders shake. Still holding her hand, Sharon moved over to rub her back soothingly with her free hand.
Eventually Lacey sat up again. She swallowed hard, no longer crying. "When it was over, he just left me on the ground. He drove away. So I came here." She looked at Sharon. "What do I do, Sharon? I couldn't figure out if I should wash or not. What if he comes back? I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do!" She suddenly threw herself into Sharon's arms.
Surprised at the sudden move, Sharon held her for a moment. Honestly, she wasn't sure. They hadn't covered this part in her intro to criminal law last semester. This was the police's part. "Well," she said, breaking away from the embrace and wiping a few stray tears from her face, "we call the police." She thought for a moment. "You stay right there if you're comfortable. Don't get in the bath." She looked around. "Where are the clothes you were wearing? We need to put them in a safe place." Lacey pointed vaguely in the direction of her bedroom. Sharon quickly exited to call the police and decide what to do next.
David was never prosecuted for the rape.
All told, he came out with five years probation for assault. And that was a great victory.
It changed Sharon. She had never considered the fact that being the person who enforced and defended the law meant that every day, you were confronted by people who broke it. Loving the rules was one thing; seeing them broken every day for the rest of her career was another.
And it nearly broke her.
Until she remembered the look on Lacey's face that day and every day afterward. The law was a beautiful thing to Sharon. It made sense when all else failed. It gave instruction where needed, restriction when things got messy, and kept everything in order. But she had never accounted for the people. Watching and sometimes experiencing the chaos of law-breaking suddenly wasn't so scary. People could just as soon break a law as mend it. People can save, they can kill, they can defend. And there was something wonderful in that unpredictability. Something to be cherished in defending the law for all those unpredictable, human, people. And well, she liked that too.
Sharon pulled herself back to the present with an effort.
"Look," she said calmly, "I understand that there are things that you…may not want to discuss with me." She chose her words carefully, praying she wouldn't disturb Rusty's newfound willingness to speak so frankly with her. She thought of Lacey again briefly, remembering the pained look on her face that night. Sharon winced inwardly against the memory. "But I want you to know," she continued, "that there are professionals—"
"NO!" Rusty's voice cut across her immediately. "No shrinks, Sharon!" Sharon backpedaled immediately as Rusty's unease obviously increased. "Look." Rusty was yelling again. "I am not the one who needs a doctor!" his voice was deliberate, vehement. "My Mom, needs a doctor. Phillip Stroh, needs a doctor. The men, who came to me on the street," Rusty's voice nearly broke with emotion, "they need doctors, okay?"
Sharon nodded calmly, keeping quiet while he shouted.
"That-that kid Matty, he needed one for sure." Rusty quieted a little. Sharon nodded and quietly considered him while he spoke. "Look. I know… what I did." Sharon could hear him fighting back tears, and resisted the urge to reach for him, the way she had that night with Lacey. But she let him talk. That was all she could really do. "And I know… why I did it. Look, all-all I really want to do is just-is just to finish school with no trouble and play chess." Sharon's heart broke a little as he spoke. She opened her mouth to reassure him again that normalcy was everything she wanted for him, but he was still talking. "I mean, can't I just do those two things? Can't that be enough?" He finally stopped and looked at her expectantly.
Sharon finally relaxed. "That is more than enough." She looked at him seriously. Truly, there was nothing she wanted more for him right now. "And there is no pressure from me to do anything else," she said honestly, "except, be kind. Be safe." Her eyes found his, silently assuring him.
Rusty nodded. "Thank you." He turned slowly to retreat back to his room. He turned back to her a moment later. "Good night."
She smiled. "Good night." She watched him a little sadly as he walked back to his room.
Sharon was unpacking the groceries a few minutes later when she suddenly remembered her plan for comfort food tonight. She left the remaining groceries on the counter and proceeded quietly to Rusty's room. She knocked softly on the door. "Rusty?" She called quietly through the door. "Are you still up?" She tried to turn the knob. It was locked. She waited. She had left the lock on the door to give Rusty some semblance of ownership and privacy as well as security in their home. Normally she didn't like for her kids to be able to lock her out, but with Rusty it was necessary. Sharon knocked again, a little louder now. Finally she heard a click and the door opened.
"Sharon, I really don't want to talk anymore right now. It's been a rough day." He turned to look at her as he swung the door open.
"I was thinking the same thing," Sharon said, nodding. "I had a pretty terrible day myself." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to forget her day. "So I brought home a little something special that I thought might help." She gave him a little half-smirk. "Are you interested?"
Rusty looked back at her quizzically, as if trying to decide if she was joking. "Um… Well sure. I mean, what exactly is it?" He asked a little apprehensively.
Sharon turned back down the hall. "You'll have to come out and see," she called over her shoulder. She heard him coming cautiously behind her. God, why was she still wearing her work shoes? She stopped near the door and quickly traded them for her uggs. Her feet were killing her. There was indeed something to be said for wearing a shoe that she really loved and that made her feel great, but man. This day had been too long for those shoes.
She looked behind her to find Rusty still shuffling curiously in her wake, and continued into the kitchen.
"Okay, Sharon, seriously. Like—what are we doing?" Rusty looked a little exasperated at her secretive attitude.
Sharon smiled at him. "I brought home some comfort food," she said, happily.
Rusty just looked at her, nonplussed. "I told you, I already had dinner. Twice."
Sharon sighed. Clearly he just didn't understand the nature of fun surprises. "Well firstly, this is not dinner. And secondly, in all the time I've known you, you have never turned down an offer of good food. Here I am, offering you excessive junk food with absolutely no health benefits." She gestured at the food laid out before them. "All I'm asking is for a little enthusiasm." She looked over her glasses at him.
Rusty put on an expression of exaggerated mock-excitement. "This is great," he said in a matching mocking voice.
Sharon gave him a quelling look, and Rusty held his hands up in surrender. "Hey," he said mildly defensively, "I have no idea what's even happening here. I'm just trying to get out of this alive."
"Clearly, you are failing that particular attempt," she deadpanned. "Okay," she continued, "I haven't done this with you before, so I wasn't really sure what you'd want." She gestured at the food gathered before them. "So I got what my other children normally want—" She stopped, looking at him nervously. She was usually so careful. It had just slipped out.
Rusty looked at Sharon carefully for a moment. "Your other children?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she breathed. "My other children." She watched him apprehensively for a moment.
But he just shrugged. "Okay, well, that popcorn looks good." He reached for the microwave popcorn box and pulled out a bag.
Sharon visibly relaxed. "Good." She took the bag from him. "Just this once, we can go eat on the couch. You want to go pick out something to watch? Something short, it's already late and a school night." She got the popcorn going and then turned her attention to preparing her own treat. "Just please, Rusty, can we keep the blood and carnage to a minimum?"
She made her way over with a bowl of popcorn and a little something of her own creation a few minutes later. "Alright." She handed him the bowl of popcorn and settled into her corner of the couch. "What are we watching?"
Rusty looked over at her and appraised the concoction in her bowl. "Seriously, Sharon? strawberries?" He looked closer. "And is that—peanut butter?" He wrinkled his nose a little. "You are so weird."
Sharon smacked his hand. "Don't knock it until you try it," she said defensively. "Are you going to tell me what we're watching?" She pulled her feet out of her uggs and burrowed her toes under Rusty's legs on the other side of the couch, watching for his reaction.
"Oh my God, Sharon, why do you always do that?! It tickles!" His voice was exasperated, but he was smiling. "It's Once Upon A Time," he said to her still-questioning eyes. She smiled. He'd picked one of her shows this time.
They both turned to the TV and watched in companionable silence for a while. After about fifteen minutes, Sharon got up to get a glass of water, setting her unfinished strawberry mixture on the coffee table. When she came back a moment later, there was a distinct absence of a significant portion in her bowl. Rusty was determinedly not looking at her. She tried not to laugh. She was finished anyway. She slid the bowl with the few remaining sliced strawberries and peanut butter with her spoon along the coffee table until it was between them, and watched with amusement as Rusty periodically snuck bites of her snack while they watched, the popcorn lying forgotten on the floor beside him.
Well at least she knew what to get him next time, she thought with a smile.
A/N: Well I hope that last bit at least slightly repaired your crushed soul. For those who may be interested, there were at least three song references in there. Two pretty overt ones, and one rather subtle. Also one homage to a Mary quote. Kudos and distinct admiration to anyone who can pick them out.