Keep You
She stared at the letter in her hands for a long time without really reading it. The words in his chicken-scratch scrawl across the page, the writing of a boy who'd been in and out of permanent schooling his whole life. A smart boy. A good person. Sharon truly believed that, despite growing up in some of the most difficult circumstances, Rusty was good. It was something she could feel as profoundly as anything. She could tell that even when he affirmed he felt it too, he was lying. One day she would help him know it for sure.
If she could only get him back.
Her eyes and cheeks were damp. She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there, immobile, useless. She wanted to be out in the city, looking for him, alongside the rest of Major Crimes, scouring the streets for any sign of the missing boy.
But someone had to stay in the apartment, stay home, where she hoped to a God she didn't always believe in that he'd show up sooner or later. She hoped like hell he'd just come home safe and she wouldn't have to look into a fellow officer's eyes as they her gave some awful, secondhand report. She'd been on the opposite end of that report enough times to know it would never be okay.
The letter in her hands was short - just one page of printer paper she guesses he might have picked up from the office. One page of paper to force an open wound as wide as her heart. She wiped at her cheeks absently, only smearing the dots of mascara further across her skin.
She thought about all of the things she'd missed, all of the observations she'd let go of in the hopes that giving him room, giving him space to breathe and move and make his own choices, would allow him to come to her when he needed to. She was hoping she'd given him room to grow. Instead, it seemed she'd been giving him room to run away. The knowledge sunk her like an anchor.
She knew she had to stay here just in case. Still, she hated the feeling of helplessness that accompanied the stasis. Knowing he was somewhere out there, somewhere, and she could do nothing but wait.
She thought about calling someone - her kids, a friend, even Jackson - to sit with her and make sure she didn't go completely crazy. But she couldn't even picture someone else being there with her. She didn't need anyone else to be there. Just Rusty. Just the boy who she'd felt protective of the moment she laid eyes on him in that interview room being interrogated by Chief Johnson. She thought that even then she'd had some idea that there was more to this boy than the guarded, combative way he approached others. And she'd been right.
It would be a shame if she never found out just how much more there was.
She looked down at the letter again. She'd barely been able to get past the first sentence without falling apart.
I'm sorry, Sharon.
That single, first line had fractured her. Because as soon as she'd read it she knew. She knew he wouldn't be in the apartment like he was supposed to be. She knew the rest of that letter would be a further explanation, that it would hurt her more with each word, that it would drive home just how much she'd lost in trying to preserve some of his independence.
One of her hands left the letter to cover her mouth and halt a strangled sob. It only muffled it - her body wracked with the weight of the sound.
She recalled a day she'd gone to pick him up in lieu of the usual patrol officer. She'd waited out front, unbeknownst to him, observing him sitting on the steps with a couple friends, chatting and laughing. Her heart had lightened at the sight.
Then she recalled the man that had walked up to the group, singling out Rusty and sparing a few words and a sleazy smile for him. She remembered the way Rusty's face had fallen upon the sight of the man; she'd seen his fists clench even at a distance.
She hadn't waited for the scene to play out. She'd leaped out of her car and towards the group, paying no attention to the strange man, and addressing the high schoolers only. She'd suggested she drive all three kids home, hoping she'd lead the man to believe she could have been anyone's mother. She was concerned that someone - specifically someone tied to Philip Stroh - would find out about Rusty's living situation, but in that moment her highest concern had been getting him to safety.
She'd been somewhat successful. The man had wandered off almost as soon as she'd approached. But she could tell Rusty was shaken by the ordeal. She'd tried to ask about the man later, very carefully, but Rusty had responded with a cold shoulder and some muttered words about not knowing who the hell he was or why he'd started talking to them.
Sharon knew what kind of life Rusty led before they'd found him. She thought that perhaps the man had been one of those that Rusty hinted at occasionally when he was trying to subtly indicate just how shitty his life had been. Rusty only ever hinted though. So she had no way of knowing for sure.
The letter in her hands didn't say enough. All it told her – in more obscure language – was that Rusty was afraid of being a part of Sharon's life when he figured he couldn't stay. He was afraid of being taken away, of being pushed into Witness Protection, of losing all of the things that seemed permanent for now but could be removed in a moment. He'd lived his life in things that didn't last and he couldn't let himself believe in any notion of permanency.
A knock at the door startled her. She laid the letter down carefully on the coffee table and lifted herself from the couch. She paused before crossing to the door. She knew that whoever waited on the other side could very well be bringing her terrible news.
She didn't move until another knock resounded through the apartment.
She swallowed hard and crossed the room.
When she opened the door, her breath escaped her again. She stared immediately at Rusty, who stood shuffling a foot behind Provenza's rigid form. She barely blinked as she took in the sight of him: unharmed, unscathed, clearly anxious about whatever punishment he anticipated.
She finally looked to Louie who was waiting patiently for her acknowledgment.
"We found him at a convenience store on Alameda. He hasn't said much," Louie angled his head towards Rusty to let him know he wasn't pleased about this development, "But we figured maybe he'd be a little more talkative with his guardian." He spoke the term as if it offended him, as though he considered Sharon to be above this title.
Sharon gave Louie a weak smile and a nod before the Lieutenant stepped aside and ushered Rusty towards the apartment door.
"Thank you," Sharon said quietly to Louie before he took his leave. She closed the door. She took a deep breath, trying to slow the thudding of her anxious heart. She turned and pressed her back to the door, her eyes falling on Rusty again. His back was to her. She knew he was afraid to turn around, to face whatever would be retribution for his disappearance.
"Rusty," she said softly. She did nothing else, only waited for him to react.
Eventually he turned to face her, his expression filled with guilt. He said nothing. He only waited.
She thought of a hundred different reactions – the ones her parents might have had, all fire and brimstone; the ones she'd had a few times in the face of her children's wrongdoings; the ones that Rusty might have experienced the few times his mother had given enough effort to care at all.
And then she did exactly what she wanted to do instead.
She lunged forward, ignoring his immediate wince and confusion, and pulled him into a wrenching hug. She didn't care that his body went somewhat limp. She didn't care that she was possibly squeezing all of the air from his lungs. All that mattered was that after a few moments, his arms lifted and looped around her back, accepting the forceful embrace as gracefully as he could.
"I was so worried," Sharon said.
"I'm sorry." Rusty mumbled into her hair.
She held him for a few more seconds before stepping back, her hands still clenched around his forearms.
"I'm not going to let anyone take you." Sharon said firmly. Her eyes were welling again despite her attempts to hold back the tears.
Rusty smiled sadly. "What if you don't have a choice?"
"Then I'll fight them on it. Every step of the way." Sharon affirmed immediately, her gaze unwavering. "But you can't keep running away from me. I need you to fight too. If you want to stay." Sharon's voice was strong until the last line, where it shook in its confidence.
Rusty stared back into her eyes, searching for a lie, for something false in her admission.
"I want to stay." He said, and looked like he was going to cry too, but she dragged him into her arms again before he could react.
They stayed like that for a while – neither willing to relinquish their hold on the other.
Sharon didn't even pull back when she finally spoke.
"You know I love you, right?" Her voice was barely a murmur.
Rusty chuckled lightly into her shoulder. "Yeah," he said. "I love you too."