Notes: I seem to be incapable of finishing anything else until I know what happens next in S3, so here's something from S2 because I am endlessly fascinated by Sharon and Jack's trainwrecky relationship.
Line in the Sand
rosabelle
Jack was excited.
In the kitchen, he moved with the energy of a much younger man, talking animatedly as he turned bacon and flipped pancakes. Did she know that Ricky had just moved? No roommates this time, he was really on his own for the first time in his life. He had a man's voice now. So hard to believe he wasn't a kid anymore. Time was a funny thing, wasn't it?
And had she heard that Katie had just been cast in Sleeping Beauty? Her role was slipping his mind now—his memory just wasn't what it used to be—but boy, she'd sure come a long way from dancing on the top of his feet. She was good, the last time he saw her. She must be great by now.
Sharon sat sideways in her chair and listened from the dining room, a neglected mug of tea at her elbow. It was a struggle to keep her smile fixed in place with her heart slowly sinking into her stomach, leaving a hollow ache behind.
He meant it. She knew that he meant it. He always did, in the beginning.
"You were right, Sharon," he confided in her. "You were totally right."
She made no reply, silently watching as he whisked bacon out of the pan and let the strips drain on a stack of paper towels.
"It was the right thing to do," he said. "I think they were happy to hear from me."
Her skirt had no pockets. Sharon rubbed her palms against her thighs and reached for her teacup. The fit and feel of it in her hand were familiar, and that lent some comfort to her. Not enough, but some.
Ricky had called her afterwards. What the hell, Mom?
Katie hadn't.
In the end, Sharon had apologized for blindsiding him, he had apologized for snapping at her, and she'd told him she loved him. He hadn't been too angry to say it back.
She would call Katie tonight, if she didn't hear from her first.
" Bet my little girl is just beautiful up on that stage. Katie told me that tickets were expensive and not to bother, that I probably couldn't get one anyway and I didn't need to go through all that trouble, but it's no trouble, you know? If the job works out, I think I could pull it off. Or maybe the next show, if I can't make this one happen, what do you think?"
"I—"
"And I told Ricky that I'd have to get settled into my own place first but it's not that far of a drive, really. We could see each other every month or so."
That was more often than she had seen Ricky in... longer than she cared to think about. These were important years in their lives, Sharon knew. They were establishing themselves in their careers. Settling into adulthood. They were busy, and so was she. She made it a priority to call them at least once a week.
But God, did she miss them.
Jack set a plate before her and one in his own place beside her. He hesitated with the third plate in his hand, and when he turned to look down the hall, Sharon knew what was coming. "So what's the story with the kid?"
"There's no story."
Jack set Rusty's plate down, his look still expectant. Sharon considered the question. Rusty's history wasn't hers to share, but... if Jack was going to be staying here indefinitely, Sharon would really rather that he not unknowingly upset Rusty. He'd been having a hard enough time lately with the extra security precautions she had insisted on, and for all that he liked to insist that she was overreacting and remind her that he could take care of himself, he had looked terrified when he'd woken her up the other night.
"All right," she relented. "Do not discuss any of this with Rusty yourself. Otherwise, you can sort out your apartment situation from the Best Western."
"Wouldn't think of it."
"You already know that Rusty is a material witness in a pending murder trial, and that I am his legal guardian." She'd told him as much, the first day, when he'd given her a cheeky grin and commented that he only remembered making two of those. "He lives with me because his mother is unable to care for him. When he was fifteen, she left LA with her boyfriend and left him behind."
"That's terrible." Jack frowned, his head turning again in the direction of Rusty's room. "What kind of parent does that?"
If it weren't so unbearably tragic, she would've laughed at the irony.
"Mm," Sharon said diplomatically. "His foster home was... unsafe. He spent several months living alone on the streets after that." She swallowed. "He survived by selling himself."
Jack's head turned back towards her. "You're telling me he was..."
"Yes."
"With men?"
"Yes," she said again, tightly, her fingers clenching as she waited for the next question. It wasn't one for her to answer.
It wasn't the one she'd expected.
"How old did you say he was, again?"
"Fifteen."
"Poor kid." Jack's eyes strayed down the hallway again. "That's tough."
Sharon raised an eyebrow. That was more sensitivity than she'd expected. "Yes," she agreed, taking a sip of her tea. "If you could keep that in mind as you interact with him, I would appreciate it."
"Aye aye, Captain." Jack picked up a slice of bacon. "He looks like he's doing all right now."
"He's come a long way."
"He's in good hands with you."
That, too, was a surprise. He must really be desperate to stay in her good graces.
"And he's obviously attached to you."
Sharon couldn't help smiling as she slid one of her pancakes onto Rusty's plate. She liked to think so.
"I mean, did you see the way he came charging in here with that lamp the other night?"
That killed it. Sharon frowned as she took up her tea again. "If you had just called—"
"It was the middle of the night! I didn't want to wake you."
"If Rusty hadn't been there," she went on, "what were you going to do? Wander into the living room the next morning and ask how I wanted my coffee?"
Yes, she surmised from his sheepish look. That was exactly what he had planned to do.
"I hope you realize I could've killed you." She stared coldly at him in return. "Excuse me."
She needed a moment away from him, and Rusty should've been up by now.
There was no answer when she knocked. She tried the door next. When it turned, she knew that he'd been awake at some point, because Rusty always slept with the door locked.
She'd been doing the same, the last few nights.
It wasn't that she thought that Jack would just invite himself into her bedroom. Though she honestly wasn't sure why not, because he'd invited himself everywhere else whether she wanted him there or not, but... She'd still locked the door without thinking too hard on it, either.
"Rusty?" Sharon nudged the door gently open.
A sleepy sort of groan was her answer.
She poked her head into the room and smiled at the sight of him. Fully dressed, shoes included, and curled up on his side, one arm buried beneath his pillow and the other hugged to his chest. Ricky had always been a morning person, but she'd found Katie like this more mornings than not.
She went and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Rusty," she said quietly. "Time to wake up. Jack made breakfast."
He tried to turn over onto his stomach.
"Rusty."
"M'up," he mumbled, and rolled over.
"We're leaving in half an hour," she informed the back of his head. "If you're not ready by then, you can either starve or buy yourself breakfast at school, whichever you prefer."
She thought she heard him stirring behind her when she closed the door behind her.
When she returned to the dining room, Jack was still at the table, eating alone. He looked up when he saw her. "Hope you told the kid his food's getting cold."
"He'll be here soon."
She wondered what sort of example she was setting for Rusty, and what sort of message she was sending to her children. She had been so sure the night before, that putting him on the phone with his children had been the right thing to do.
Sharon reached for her tea.
Jack had always been a blind spot of sorts.
When it came to him, she was always less sure of what the right thing was.
She'd read all the books and gone to all the therapy sessions, and she knew all the words like enabling and codependent. She knew when she was being manipulated, and she knew that he was never going to be anything but what he was because she couldn't will him otherwise, and she knew that because she'd tried and tried and tried.
She'd had twenty years to tell herself that no, things had gone far enough and no, that was too definitely far... and Jack had had twenty years to push and push and push, until the boundaries in their relationship were nowhere near where she'd drawn them in the first place.
Sharon was still nursing her tea when Rusty joined them. He mumbled a good morning and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"So, kid."
Sharon sent Jack a pointed, warning look, a remember what we talked about sort of look. He rolled his eyes at her in return. Rusty was too sleepy to notice.
"You need a ride?"
"Oh... yeah." Rusty looked to her first, and Sharon dipped her chin in a small nod. It was almost worth it to see his face light up. "Yeah, that'd be great. If you don't mind."
Sharon arched an eyebrow.
"Thanks," he added.
Sharon picked up her fork.
She could do this. She could live with the Jack who made her breakfast and spoke to his children and picked Rusty up from school, but that was the only side of Jack that she would deal with, she promised herself. Anything else, and he was gone.
For the hundred and first time, Sharon drew for herself another line in the sand.
She always meant it at the beginning, too.