A/N: I'm sorry for this in advance. It's sad. I tried hard to give it a positive ending. My muse was begging for this to be written. Please Review and let me know what you think!
He felt numb. The simple act of breathing was hard.
Waking up in the mornings were the hardest. He would wake up and for a moment he would believe that this had all been a nightmare, and then reality would come crashing down on him, over and over again, day after day, and he would hold in the cries that so desperately needed to be released.
He would get up, shower, dress, make himself some coffee and then head to class, go to work, and pretend like everything was okay. He would come home and make himself something small for dinner, then do some homework, watch some TV and fall asleep by 9 o'clock.
It was the same routine, every morning, afternoon, and night. He clung to that routine like a lifeline. He'd pick up extra shifts at work on the weekends just so he wouldn't have to be alone in that house for long. He kept himself busy. If he didn't, if he allowed himself time to think he'd break down. And he knew that if he did, if he cried, he would never be able to stop.
People kept telling him that it was "okay to grieve". How did he do that? He didn't know how. The one person that would be able to help him through his grief was gone. She would tell him what to do, make him feel like whatever he was feeling was okay. He missed her.
He did cry. Once. The day that it happened. He had sobbed like a child, his face buried in her shoulder. He begged her to open her eyes, to come back to him.
He needed her. He wasn't ready to be on his own yet. He wasn't ready to live in a world without her.
It was Ricky and Emily, her real children, his brother and sister, that pulled him away from her. They were crying too, devastated by their sudden loss, but worried for Rusty who had so little time with her.
After that, the days and weeks seemed to blur together. They had the funeral, and Rusty remained stoic, comforting Emily and Ricky, her parents, and even the Major Crimes team. They had to deal with legal matters, settling her estate things like that. Of course, Sharon had been more than prepared, and the process was relatively easy with the help of her Attorney.
She had left the condo to him. At first, Rusty couldn't understand why. But then of course he had figured it out after a few days. Should she suddenly pass away before he had a chance to be on his own, he would stay there. She would make sure that he didn't have to worry about where he would go. The condo, after all, was his home. Of course, he never had the chance to tell her that home was wherever she was. And now she was gone.
She had left enough money to pay for his college education and the mortgage was taken care of, too. There was money left over, just for him too. She was still looking out for him, taking care of him, even in death.
It had been four weeks since her sudden passing. Killed in the line of duty. Rusty had known it could happen of course, but never thought it could happen to her. This was a blow he would never understand.
Four weeks had passed. And still when Rusty came home from work or school, he'd expect her to be there, or he would wait for her, until he realized again that she was never coming home.
He walked into the condo on a Friday night, around 10 PM. He picked up extra hours at the office, and was exhausted. He swallowed hard. The condo seemed so empty, so cold, since she died. He walked over to the refrigerator and took out some milk. He was too tired to make himself dinner, so he decided on some cereal instead.
He sat down at the kitchen island and began to eat….
"Rusty?"
He dropped the spoon into the bowl, quickly looking behind his shoulder, seeing nothing. He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes at himself before turning his attention back to his cereal.
"Rusty, cereal isn't a very good dinner. You have to take care of yourself, you know."
He jumped up and spun around. "Sharon?!" His eyes were frantic. He looked around, expecting to see her coming around the corner. He waited a full minute for her to do just that, and his hands formed fists at his side as he dealt with his stupidity. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths.
He looked at his cereal bowl and suddenly, he no longer had an appetite. He grabbed the bowl and put it in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out. He turned on and shut off lights as he made it to his room, and he quickly undressed, putting on his boxers for bed.
He flopped onto his bed, exhaustion setting in and he was sleeping within a few moments.
For the first time since the funeral, he dreamed about her.
He was sitting up in bed, his legs bent at the knees so his laptop rested on his thighs. He looked up when Sharon came into the room, smiling and leaving some hot chocolate for him on his end table.
He reaches over and grabs her hand. "Sharon?"
She sits down beside him. "Rusty. No matter what. No matter when. I will always know you."
Rusty nods, panicking a little when she gets up and starts to walk away. "No, Sharon…don't go. I need you!"
She turns around and shakes her head. "Drink your hot chocolate, Rusty. Everything will be okay."
"Sharon!" He sits up quickly in bed, panting hard. The dream seemed so real. He switches on the lamp and looks at the end table and sighs in defeat. There was no mug of hot chocolate there for him. It was just a dream. He looks at the cock and rolls his eyes. 1:07 AM.
He tries to go back to sleep but keeps tossing and turning. He keeps seeing Sharon's face every time he closes his eyes. Up until tonight he had been able to put her so far back in his mind and even in his heart sometimes that this new turn of events was unbearable to him.
He gets up, leaving his room and slowly makes his way to Sharon's room. It had gone mostly untouched since her passing. He kept the door closed. He was afraid to go in there. It was Sharon's room, and she was gone.
He hesitantly turns the doorknob and slowly pushes open the door. The bed was made, the room neat, just as Sharon had left it the day she had been killed. He instantly feels pressure in his chest. This was too hard…
He spins around on his heel, intent on leaving the room as quickly as possible when something shiny catches his eye in the corner of the room. He stops and his curiosity gets the best of him. He walks over to the corner and sees a small package, wrapped in silver wrapping paper. He bends down to pick it up, and he sees that there is a tag on it. He turns it over and gasps when he reads To Rusty; Love, Sharon on it.
His birthday was coming up. It was only a few days away. He hadn't been in the mood to celebrate. Last year, his birthday had been special. Sharon had gotten him a really expensive chess set, and then they went to dinner to his favorite burger place, even though he knew she wasn't that crazy about it.
Sharon had gotten him a gift. But so soon before his actual birthday? He tears the wrapping paper and then opens the box.
It was a picture, of him and her, on the only vacation they had managed to take together in San Francisco. They had gone to Ghirardelli Square and they had gotten hot chocolate together. A stranger had taken the photo of them on the pier, hot chocolates in their hands. It had been a chilly day, and Sharon had her arm around Rusty, her head resting on his shoulder. She was smiling proudly and Rusty was grinning from ear to ear.
He sniffed and delicately ran his finger over the frame, and touched Sharon's face gently. "Sharon…"
His eyes widen as realization dawns on him. Hot chocolate. Sharon had given him a mug of it in his dream.
He takes the picture out of the box and sees a small note underneath. He sits down on Sharon's bed and places the picture and the box beside him, looking down at the note in the process.
Dear Rusty,
When I first saw you in that interrogation room four years ago, I had no idea how much my life would change for the better. I hope you like your gift. It isn't much but I'm a little sentimental this year so I hope you can forgive me. I'm so proud of you every day. I'm happy that you are my son. You are truly one of the greatest parts of my life and I hope we have many vacations like this one in the future.
I love you.
~ Sharon
He grips the note in his hands to tightly that he almost tears it in half. He quickly puts it aside and doubles over his middle as if in pain, an agonizing sound coming forth. "It isn't fair! I needed you! I needed you, Sharon!"
He is yelling at no one, really. No one is there. He is just so angry, so heartbroken. She was all he had in the world. She was the first person in his life to really, truly love him for who he was. Letting go of that was too hard. He sobs as if in pain, and sinks down onto the floor in front of her bed, his face buried in his hands.
After awhile he is spent, nothing but small sobs and hiccups escaping him. He looks at the picture that had fallen to the floor next to him and picks it up. "I'm sorry, Sharon. I'm sorry I didn't tell you every day how much I loved you. I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise and didn't do anything to make you really, truly proud of me. I'm sorry for being so mean in the beginning. I'm sorry that I wasn't there to say goodbye….I'm so sorry…"
Minutes and hours pass. He isn't sure how long he sits there, so many feelings and memories going through him all at once. He leans his head back against the bed and tries to take deep, calming breaths. He closes his eyes and suddenly he doesn't feel so alone anymore. He knows that Sharon is there. He can smell her perfume again and a feeling of peace comes over him. The tears finally stop and he manages to get himself off the floor, her note and picture clutched protectively in his hands as he walks out of her room and into his.
He puts the picture on his dresser, the note propped up against it, and looks at it for a moment, managing a small smile.
For the first time since that horrible day, he doesn't feel the heavy pressure in his chest. Maybe he needed to release everything he was holding inside after all.
He would miss her, and every day he would struggle with the reality of his death, but he knew he had to go on. For her. For himself. It's what she would want for him.
He sighs and walks out of his room, heading to the kitchen. He suddenly had a craving for hot chocolate.