It is impossible to start this note without mentioning how heartbroken the two of us are over the latest events on the show. In light of that, we also have to say that it was absolutely wonderful seeing your positive response to our first chapter. A big thanks to all the guests who reviewed, too, but to whom we couldn't reach out with a more personal thank you.

Working on this chapter was as much fun as the previous one, if not more. I just cannot stop marvelling at the easiness with which we continue to play off each other's writing. Some details written by my partner here are my absolute favorites, and I look forward to seeing you enjoy them as much as I did.

~IReadAndWriteSometimes

Before we get to the chapter, I wanted to take a moment to thank a guest review who signs as RachelJ. You went through and read 2 of my older stories and left me several reviews yesterday. Since I can't thank you personally, I thought I would thank you here on the off-chance you are reading this story, too. I cannot tell you how amazing that was and how much it lifted my mood to receive all of the alerts regarding your reviews. You are incredible, thank you.

Also, a special shout out to my writing partner. There were several moments in this chapter that she depicted so brilliantly, I can't help but fangirl over them. I continually find myself in awe of her wonderful work. Anyhoo, enough from me now.

~escapewithstories

Our second chapter covers some of the events in epi 1x02, but also includes some scenes of our own.

THE SAME, YET DIFFERENT - CHAPTER TWO

Over breakfast, Andy focused on the last of the paperwork he needed to fill out for DCFS. The endless number of questions in it alone was headache inducing, but it was the boy sitting opposite of him at the dining table that was actually causing it. Rusty hadn't been at all happy to be woken up at what he called an 'ungodly hour' just so that his caseworker, Cynthia, could 'dump him' on yet another foster parent.

Although technically, Andy wasn't a foster parent. Yet.

He knew even without Cynthia's update the day before just how overwhelmed with children in need the foster system was, but he was still surprised when she admitted that finding a suitable home for Rusty was proving difficult. The search for his mother wasn't yielding any results just yet either. He had talked to his Captain the previous morning to find out that not only had she promised to look for Rusty's mother, but she had started the search as soon as they closed their case. Andy wanted to help, but by then it had already become a waiting game; one that Rusty wasn't very good at. The lack of news about his mother simply added to his foul mood. Rusty's situation also wasn't helped when at the mere mention of being put up with another family, he threatened to run away again. What Cynthia pointed out as well was that Rusty's witness status, the guise under which Andy took Rusty in in the first place, wasn't a good temporary solution from a legal standpoint either. That was how he found himself filling out all this paperwork. He was making an official request to be appointed Rusty's foster parent.

It wasn't an idea that crossed Andy's mind that night he took Rusty home, but when Cynthia mentioned that as a possible solution for the time being, he had agreed without hesitation. He figured he had the space and the means. Perhaps he was a little short on time to take on a kid fulltime, and his own children would have a word or two to say about it, too, but he decided it was still probably better than what Cynthia could offer Rusty as an alternative. It also helped that given Rusty's emergency care status, Andy wouldn't have to deal with the entire approval procedure the same way most foster parents had to.

If only Rusty would see it that way.

Andy had just scribbled down his signature on the last sheet of paper in front of him when his doorbell rang. He quickly collected the papers that were strewn across the table into a neat pile, and stood to answer the door. That prompted Rusty to say his first words since sitting down for breakfast.

"I do not want to live with you," he bit out, shoving his bowl of cereal to the middle of the table. By the time Andy looked at him, he added, "I want to live with my-"

"Mom," Andy supplied with no small amount of exasperation. "I know," he added more gently, and started making his way to the door. He smirked to himself when he heard the chair scrape across the floor as Rusty leapt to his feet to follow. He was glad to see that he was following doctor's orders from the other day and was no longer leaning on his crutches. "But until you can, I'm afraid you're stuck," Andy had reached the door and turned around to glance at Rusty as he prepared to open it, "with me." Not waiting for Rusty's by then signature eye roll, he flung his front door open, and plastered a polite smile on his face. "Hello, Cynthia, come on in." He invited her inside with a wave of his hand.

Cynthia smiled, clutching a clipboard to her chest, and walked inside. "Good morning, Lieutenant," her gaze landed on Rusty and her smile widened, "Rusty."

To Andy's surprise, Rusty responded with, "Morning." He decided to ignore that the word left him through gritted teeth, and that he was glaring at Cynthia as it he did.

Cynthia must have been used to Rusty's sunny disposition by now, because she all but smirked before turning to Andy again. "So how about we get started then?"

"Sure," Andy was suddenly feeling a little nervous, and a stammering "Uuh," left him before he cleared his throat and said, "I guess we best start with Rusty's room?"

Cynthia smiled reassuringly. "Yes," she gracefully waved a hand at Andy, "lead the way, Lieutenant."

By the time Cynthia was inspecting the last part of Andy's apartment, the balcony, Andy's headache had reached new levels. Rusty had bad-mouthed just about everything Cynthia had so much as glanced at. When Andy explained his two spare bedrooms, Rusty had immediately argued that 'a guy whose own kids didn't seem to like him' can't possibly be foster parent material. He had even gone on to complain about the sparsely decorated state the rooms were in, claiming even hospital rooms had a warmer feel to them. When Andy honestly offered to work on giving Rusty's room a cozier touch, instead of reassuring Rusty, the kid had thrown a tantrum about Andy only wanting to buy his co-operation so he would testify in their 'stupid murder trial'.

Andy let that just roll off him. He kept repeating his inner mantra, 'There's a reason he doesn't trust people.' However, his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when, in the kitchen, Rusty accused Andy of 'shoving nothing but unhealthy burgers and fries down his throat'. Thankfully, Cynthia let out a hearty laugh and shrugged it off by sarcastically saying, "Yes, feeding you your favorite food. Torture."

At that point, Andy was just about ready to ask her for tips on handling Rusty, because nothing he had said until then made her bat even an eyelash. He found that rather impressive.

Cynthia, with Rusty hot on her heels, was just about to step back inside the living room when Andy's phone went off. He groaned even before reading Provenza's name on it. He put a finger up and mumbled an apologetic, "I have to get this, could be work." Cynthia merely nodded in understanding, and he proceeded to answer his call. "Please, tell me we didn't catch a case."

"Sorry," Provenza sounded genuine enough, "but unfortunately we did. I don't have any details yet, but it's definitely a dead body." He lowered his voice, and asked, "How's it going?"

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Andy watched Cynthia as she scribbled something down on her board, Rusty surreptitiously looking over her shoulder. He lowered his voice a little. "About to get a verdict here."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," judging by his partner's grumbled words, Andy assumed he had graced him with an eye roll, too, "but you'll do just fine. The poor kid's screwed with your sorry self, but he'll still be better off with you than with God knows who else."

Andy rolled his own eyes. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence." Rusty was starting to argue with Cynthia, so he quickly added, "Just text me the address, see you in a few." Not waiting for Provenza's response, he turned his attention to Cynthia and Rusty and dropped the call.

"No, you're just locking me up with him," Rusty pointed a hand at Andy, "so that you don't have to bother with looking for my mom!" He raised his voice another notch and threw his head back in annoyance as he added, "And don't even get me started on that witness crap!"

"Rusty," Andy said a bit sharply, causing Rusty to whirl around to glare at him. "Nobody's locking anyone up here, alright?" He lifted his hand in a placating manner. "Trust me, this is not how I lock guys up." Rusty opened his mouth to protest, but Andy raised his voice a little to stop him before he could. "And if you want us to find your mother, I'd advise you to just stay put for now." He inclined his head and added matter-of-factly, "Unless you'd rather I waste my time looking for you instead of your mom if you make good on your threats?"

Momentarily, Rusty was rendered speechless and he just stared blankly at Andy as he processed his words. Then he suddenly turned to Cynthia again. Waving his hand at Andy in agitation, he exclaimed, "See, he's blackmailing me now!"

Cynthia raised an eyebrow and looked at him blandly. "As opposed to what you've been doing?" she asked with a healthy dose of sarcasm and went on without waiting for Rusty's answer. "You've got yourself a pretty good deal here, Rusty." She glanced toward Andy at that. "If I were you, I'd try not to blow it this time."

Andy perked up at that. "So," he started, ignoring Rusty's dumbstruck look, "we're good here?"

Cynthia took a breath and scanned her checklist, nodding. "I see no issues with this place," she looked at him again, "Rusty's got more than he needs here really," she shot Rusty a warning look, correctly assuming that he would want to argue that point as well, and it was enough to derail his plans, "so, yes, we're good here. Now, normally," she gave Andy an ever so wary look, "alcohol abuse," Andy squared his shoulders, and refrained from groaning when he saw Rusty's eyes grow wide, "is not something we appreciate seeing in one's application to foster, but if your LAPD record doesn't alleviate any concerns regarding that," her expression softened, and she leafed through the stack of papers on her little board, Andy's own paperwork in it, until she fished out a single sheet, "this certainly does."

Andy nodded. Rusty's 24/7 supervision hadn't exactly allowed him a moment to catch his last meeting or meet up with his sponsor in person, but with the change he was about to make he decided to at least give his sponsor a call, just to talk it out. Knowing his alcoholism would be brought up, his sponsor offered to type up a few words in Andy's favor, and Andy wasn't inclined to say no to that. "My sponsor said I can give you his number," he shrugged, "in case you had any more questions or-"

Cynthia interrupted. "I know," she waved the letter around, "I've got it right here."

"Oh, okay, good," Andy said awkwardly. He hadn't read the letter himself, he just printed it out and added it to the rest of the paperwork so he didn't know its contents.

"You're a drunk?" Rusty finally found his voice and it was laced with both incredulity and accusation.

Andy's phone decided to chime at precisely that moment. He knew it was Provenza, but he checked to make sure anyway, as he somewhat distractedly corrected Rusty. "A recovering alcoholic, yes."

That shut Rusty up for another moment, long enough to allow Cynthia to switch topics. "About that," she said, nodding her head to Andy's phone. "Rusty is in emergency care, he needs constant supervision," she said somewhat pointedly.

Andy looked up, pocketing his phone. He ignored Rusty's indignant, "I do not need to be babysat!" and told Cynthia, "Yes, I understand. My Captain and I agreed that," he eyed Rusty, "since he's also a material witness in one of our cases, we can afford a uniform keeping an eye on him when I'm called out to crime scenes. As a matter of fact, I'm going to drive him to one right now, then have a uniform drop him off at the murder room." He cracked a smile. "Plenty of supervision for him there."

Cynthia looked at Rusty. "I can take him," she offered on a shrug. "It's on my way, and," her expression turned a little mischievous, "it'll give me and Rusty a few more moments to chat."

Rusty scowled at her.

As convenient an offer as it was, Andy tried to decline. "Well," he checked his watch, "I really don't want to put you out, it's no trouble for me to-"

Cynthia interrupted again, this time with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It's no trouble for me, Lieutenant."

Andy nodded, relenting. "In that case," he eyed Rusty, smiling, "pack what you need, and let's get going." He gave Cynthia a grateful look, when, not counting the displeased look Rusty shot him, the kid went to do as told. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," she waved it off. "We are very grateful for you," her eyes followed Rusty's movement, "for taking him in on such short notice. He can use all the help he can get."

"Yeah," Andy said a little regretfully as the thought of just what Rusty had already gone through in his young life crossed his mind.

Cynthia didn't let his thought linger, for she said, "So have you decided on a school for Rusty?"

. . .

After Cynthia dropped Rusty off at the murder room, he took a seat at the same desk he had occupied the last time he had been in it, and spent the last ten minutes glaring at the uniformed officer that was assigned to keep an eye on him. Rusty was itching to just up and leave, but it was impossible with the officer not leaving his side.

Cynthia talking his ear off on the way to the PAB didn't help his sour mood either. She had always tried persuading him to give this or that foster family a chance, he assumed it was part of her job description, and he had heard her little speeches enough times by now to just ignore them, but this time she was slightly more insistent than she usually was. Rusty decided it was because having a cop babysit him meant killing two birds with one stone; DCFS finally managed to drop him into somebody else's lap for a while, and the city knew exactly where their precious little witness was at all times.

Rusty grunted in frustration and buried his face into the backpack he had placed on top of the desk in front of him. All he wanted was to reunite with his mother. He would even take the stand for the LAPD's murder trial, as long as he could finally have a life with his mom again.

He was startled out of his reverie when a soft voice said, "Good morning, Rusty."

He instantly lifted his head, looking to his right where the voice had come from. Next to Andy's desk, he found his boss, that Raydor Captain, standing and politely smiling at him. He frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be at a crime scene with your team?" he asked derisively.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, an almost mischievous expression just fleetingly crossing her features as she swept her gaze over the empty desks of her subordinates. "I am," she said, a touch of wonder in her voice, "but," she looked at him again and shrugged, "I have decided to give something else a try."

Rusty stared blandly at her for a second. "Whatever," he mumbled dismissively and plopped his head back down on his knapsack, only this time he folded his arms on top of it first.

Sharon didn't respond. Instead she addressed the officer who had been standing by Rusty's side. "Lieutenant Flynn filled me in, I can take it from here."

"Yes, Ma'am," the officer said and walked away.

Not lifting his head, but just turning it her way slightly, Rusty looked at her. "I thought you said you had to," he lifted his head finally and put up air quotation marks, "comply fully with the law." He sarcastically drawled the last word.

She pursed her lips and gave him a look over the top of her glasses. "I do," she said simply.

Rusty had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and realizing he didn't particularly care to understand, he simply rolled his eyes at her, and rested his chin against his folded arms again. The next thing he heard was the sound of footsteps and a door opening. When he didn't hear it close, he chanced a glance in its direction, and realized she had walked into her office, but had left her door open. Through the open blinds he could see she was already focusing on the laptop on her desk. He straightened in his chair then, and looked around. There were people going about their day, but there was no sign of the officer who had met them when Cynthia dropped him off, nor was anybody else paying particular attention to him. Without another second's thought, he got to his feet, grabbed his bag, and started for the exit. He smiled in self-satisfaction when he noted the Captain's focus was still on her computer screen.

He had made it halfway past her office, when he heard, "And where do you think you're going, mister?"

Rusty stopped in his tracks. He felt an odd chill run down his spine, and he hated admitting that it was the low, calm voice she spoke in that caused it. For only a split second, Rusty wanted to lie, say he was going to the bathroom, but when he looked her way through the glass wall that separated them and found her watching him in what he could only label as amusement, his ire suddenly bubbled to the surface. He took the few steps toward her open door and raised his voice. "I am getting out of here!" He put his backpack on his shoulders, and held it close to his back as he tugged on its straps. "Like it's not enough that nobody's looking for my mom, now you've put me up with a cop who is a drunk?" he asked incredulously. "I'd much rather take my chances on the streets, thank you very much." Without sparing her another glance, he turned and started walking away again.

He had reached her other office door, when he heard her voice from behind him. She had apparently stood from her desk and gone after him. "May I offer you one piece of advice?" she asked him, and it was the rather genuine questioning note in her voice that made Rusty come to a halt and turn around.

He found her standing at the corner outside of her office. He thought she wasn't really trying to chase him down the hall, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. As if reading his mind, she added, "By the way, your earlier shadow is standing guard," she inclined her head, indicating behind Rusty, "there."

He looked at where she had pointed and indeed found the officer standing at the end of the hallway that led out of the murder room. He could have sworn he wasn't there a minute ago. He turned to her again. "Fine." He crossed his arms. "What advice could you possibly have for me?"

Despite his confrontational tone, her expression softened as she replied. "If I were you, I would try giving people a chance to actually disappoint me before completely writing them off."

Rusty frowned. "Well, you're not me, are you?" he bit back.

She nodded and with a touch of finality said, "No, I am not." She made a circular motion with her hand before turning to the side and pointing her index finger at the desk he was sitting behind a few minutes ago. "Now, if you would please return to your desk."

Rusty stayed put. "Or what?" he asked defiantly.

"Or," she practically sing-songed, "I will call back that nice officer and have him," she cracked a small smile, "babysit you."

Rusty's glare darkened, but ultimately he decided to heed her request, and without another word, he started walking back to his desk.

When he dumped his backpack on the desk again and sat down, he heard her say, "Thank you." By the time he looked her way, she was already inside her office again, her door still wide open.

…

"That's all we have for now, Captain," Provenza didn't even bother to turn to look in her direction where she was standing only a few steps away. "Morales should be on his way soon with the autopsy results, and Julio is getting the wife calmed down, then settled into an interview room." He continued to stare at the sparsely filled file lying open on his desk.

Sharon gave the murder board where Amy was still drawing the layout of the crime scene one last look before turning to stare at the back of Provenza's head. "I see." She stood there for a moment longer, seeming to decide what to do next, before starting to head towards her office. "Please inform me when Dr. Morales gets here."

The team had been working the last couple of hours on gathering what information they could on their victim and his next of kin. Along with the full autopsy report, they were still waiting on search warrants for his personal and business financials to go through, and until then, there wasn't much for them to do.

When Andy had arrived in the murder room earlier, he found Rusty once again sitting at a usually empty desk near his own. Since then, the kid had barely spared him a glance, and actually seemed to be going out of his way to avoid looking at him. Andy looked between his partner and his newly appointed foster son, both slumped over a desk, sulking. He rolled his eyes; it really was a toss up on who was behaving the most like a five year old.

"Buzz," Andy called after the tech before he could disappear into the electronics room. "Do you mind getting Rusty set up in the breakroom with a laptop?" He started flipping through the pages of his notebook. "His case worker suggested he start studying for a placement test he will undoubtedly have to take once we decide on a school, and," he ripped out a page when he came upon the right one, "she suggested this website that has some study material." He held the paper out to the younger man.

"Okay." Buzz gingerly took the piece of paper and briefly scanned it. "Why am I doing this?"

"Well, because," Andy rubbed the tip of his chin with his fingertips, "I need you to supervise him while he takes it."

"You mean like sit and watch him?" An incredulous expression, which matched his equally incredulous tone, crossed his features.

"Yes, Buzz," Andy gave the civilian tech a pointed look, "I do think that's what supervise means."

"I've already told you," Rusty turned in his chair to interrupt, finally sparing Andy a glance, "I don't need a babysitter."

Andy tapped his notebook against his palm. "Cynthia doesn't agree," he casually responded.

"She also thinks it's okay for me to live with a drunk," Rusty shook his head to move his hair out of his face, and stared hard back at Andy, "so what does she know?"

Andy's eyes widened fractionally before his face settled into a stony expression. He didn't realize the kid was still hung up on the news about him being in recovery, but it definitely explained the colder-than-usual shoulder he had been receiving. Deciding to table the discussion for now, he turned back to Buzz, but was unable to keep the irritation out of his tone. "Can you please just keep an eye on him while he studies for that test?" Hoping to speed things along, he added, "I will owe you one."

"Fine," Buzz grumbled, clearly still not pleased with the task. "But you owe me big."

"Yea," Andy sighed and dropped down into the chair at his desk, "right."

Both Rusty and Buzz shot Andy one more displeased look as they headed towards the breakroom to do as they were asked without any further complaints. When they were no longer in sight, Andy leaned forward over his desk and dropped his head into his hands. He took a deep breath in expelled it slowly, partially in relief that Rusty was at least occupied for the next couple of hours, and partially out of exhaustion because he was dreading the arguments he knew were still to come. His moment of respite was quickly interrupted by a chipper voice from across the room.

"You sending Rusty to school, Lieutenant?" Sykes asked from the whiteboard as she capped the marker.

"Yea," Andy chuckled as he watched Provenza glare at the oblivious young detective while she took a seat at her desk. "His case worker said he can't just sit around here," he waved a hand about, indicating the murder room, "and at my condo all day while we wait and see if there's news about his mom." He picked up a pen from his desk and clicked it a few times. "He'll have take some test to see what grade level he's at, but first I have to find a school to enroll him in. Tao," he swiveled his chair to face the man who was sitting a few desks over from him, "you have any suggestions?"

Mike's brows rose in surprise. "Me?" He was busy looking over the victim's website, and had only partially been paying attention to his teammates' conversation.

"Well, yea." Andy shrugged. "Kevin is a senior this year, right?"

"Yes." Mike drew out the word, still trying to determine where Andy was going with his line of thought.

"So," Andy looked at him pointedly, "you're more familiar with this stuff than the rest of us." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "I figured you might have some suggestions." He looked at the other man expectantly.

"Oh, okay," Mike said, pleased someone was looking to him for advice. "Hmm." He took off his glasses and began twirling them by an earpiece between two of his fingers. "You live in Silver Lake, right?" When Andy nodded in affirmation, he continued. "You actually have a few good options, so it depends on whether or not you're interested in public, magnet, charter, or private."

Andy frowned. "I only understood," he wiggled the pen he was holding in Mike's direction, "half of what you said."

"Ye Gods, here we go," Provenza mumbled from where he was still slumped over his desk, and began rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

"Public, magnet, and charter are all state funded, but they have a few differences." Mike sat back, bracing his elbows on the armrest of his chair, and folded his empty hand over the back of the one holding his glasses. "Magnet schools generally have a rigorous application process and high entrance standards, so that's probably not a viable option right now." He shrugged, almost apologetically. "Charter scho-"

"Tao!" Provenza's head shot up and he smacked his hand against the desk. "Please, for the the love of my own sanity, get to the point and just give him your very condensed suggestion."

"Okay, okay." Mike held his hands up in a defensive manner, causing his glasses to flip back against his wrist. "As I was saying," he shot a quick look of displeasure in Provenza's direction, "Rusty most likely wouldn't get into a magnet school. The public schools in your area are good, but," he reached into the interior pocket of his suit jacket, pulling out a cloth, and began cleaning his lenses, "generally overcrowded, so Rusty might get a little lost in the educational system, especially if he has a year or two to catch up on." Mike held his glasses out at eye-level to inspect them. He nodded to himself, seeming to be satisfied with the results. "Private or charter would be best, but he would need to apply to a private school, and there aren't many charter schools in the area that go beyond middle school." He slid his glasses back on his face and smiled pleasantly over at Andy.

"Uh, thanks, Mike." Andy slumped back into his chair, not believing that was the condensed version. "That was really helpful." He tried smiling back, but instead only managed to look bewildered.

. . .

Andy lightly rapped his knuckles against the door, and at the muffled 'come in', he opened it just enough to slip in before closing it once again. "Hey, Captain."

Sharon looked up from the open file on her desk and offered him a small smile. "How can I help you, Lieutenant?"

He was still standing at the door, his hand braced on the handle, indicating he didn't intend to stay long. "I was just wondering if you've heard anything regarding Rusty's mom?"

"Andy," Sharon said on a sigh and lightly shook her head. There was such an expectant look on his face, she hated to disappoint him. "I promised I would inform you the moment I heard anything."

Andy's shoulders sunk. "I know." He finally released his grip on the door handle and stepped further into her office. "I was just kind of hoping for something to tell the kid, maybe help cheer him up."

Sharon leaned back slightly, looking through the blinds to where Rusty was once again flopped over one of the spare desks. "He does seem to be a bit moodier than usual."

"Yea, and that's saying something," Andy mumbled to himself, but loud enough for her to hear.

Sharon allowed a small smile to form at his small joke, before turning serious again. "Everything okay?

"No…I mean, yes…I mean" Andy let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes at how ridiculous he was being, "I don't know." He began rubbing the back of his neck where the tension had been building all day while mentally debating whether he should elaborate or not. The Captain stared back at him with a look of genuine concern, and before he knew it, he found himself venting all of his frustrations from the day. "Cynthia inadvertently opened a can of worms this morning during her home visit," he crossed his arms over his chest, "and I haven't had a chance to talk to Rusty about it because we caught a case." He solemnly looked in Rusty's direction, and with a tone to match, added, "Although, I'm not sure he's even willing to talk to me considering he will hardly look at me right now." He was quiet for a moment longer as he continued to look through the window, but then he suddenly started pacing short circles in front of her desk, and continued with his ramblings. "I also have to get him enrolled into school here pretty quick. Thankfully," the word was said with a mixture of relief and gratitude, "Buzz helped out by supervising the kid while he studied for a placement test he will eventually have to take," he tapped a finger against his chin in time with each of his steps, "but now I apparently owe him big, and I don't even want to think about what that means. And speaking of things that I don't know what they mean," he stopped his pacing and braced his hands on his hips, "Mike suggested something about private magnets or public charters, I don't know," he frustratedly tossed his hands up, before resting them on his hips again, "so now I gotta go figure out what the hell that means so that Rusty doesn't get lost in the education system," he huffed a short, mirthless laugh, "because god knows getting lost in one system is bad enough, I don't want to be responsible for it happening again." He leaned over, bracing his hands on the back of the chair in front of her desk, and earnestly gazed at her. "I honestly don't know what I was thinking when I decided to take him home." There was no disguising the doubt that had entered his tone, and he began speaking more rapidly. "I'm beginning to think that maybe I'm not the best person for the job, but there's nowhere else for him to go, so it doesn't really matter what I think because-" he paused, the reality of what he agreed to fully dawning on him. He had been acting on impulse since he took Rusty in, and now the weight of it was hitting him all at once. It was too late to turn back now, and he honestly didn't think he wanted to, but that still didn't make the situation easier. Standing up straight, he took a deep breath and with more confidence than he felt, he finished his thought. "Because Rusty needs me whether he agrees or not."

He never meant to admit that much to her, but the thought had been there since he brought the kid home, waiting to burst out. His Captain seemed to be staring at him in her usual assessing manner, and he was sure she was now having the same doubts about his ability to care for Rusty. He wanted to tell her to forget he said anything, but then he caught the flicker of sympathy in her eyes, and he knew she understood him and was in no way judging him. Now he was torn between being thankful she understood his worries, or mad that he felt relieved to have gained Raydor's sympathies.

Sharon quietly cleared her throat, chasing away the last of her surprise at him being so forthcoming. She knew there wasn't much she could do for him in this situation, mainly because he wouldn't want to hear it from her, so she decided to focus on the one issue she could provide some input. "Both of my kids went to St. Joseph's. It's a private school, and there would be no concern that Rusty would get lost in the system." She rested her elbows on her desk and rolled the pen she was holding between her fingers. "You should give it some consideration."

Andy sighed in relief, thankful that she was setting aside the majority of his tirade, and focusing on the one thing he really needed help with at the moment. He rounded the chair he was leaning against, and finally took a seat. "Isn't there some application process we will have to go through?" He leaned forward and braced his forearm on the edge of her desk. "I think that might take too long," he said with disappointment, "and that's if we haven't missed the deadline I'm sure they have."

"I'd be willing to put in a good word for Rusty." Sharon shrugged a single shoulder and smirked knowingly. "I can be quite persuasive."

Andy quickly shook his head. "I can't ask you to do that."

Sharon waved off her concern with a flick of her wrist. "You didn't ask, I offered. Besides," her tone changed, appearing more authoritative, "now that I am in charge of the case, I think it's also my job to make sure our young witness is taken care of."

Andy collapsed back into the chair, no longer able to come up with any further objections. "If you don't mind, that would actually be of great help."

"I don't mind," Sharon assured him with a nod of finality. She gazed at him for a moment longer as he seemed to be processing everything that transpired in the last few seconds. She hated to add more to his plate, but figured it was something worth mentioning. "Have you considered therapy for Rusty?" A look of sadness flirted across her features. "He's been through an awful lot recently, I'm sure it would be beneficial for him."

Andy gave a noncommittal grunt. "I'm sure it would, but he is vehemently against anything I suggest right now." He pointedly looked over at her. "I don't want to poke the bear anymore than I already have."

Sharon laughed softly. "I understand."

"I promise to keep it in mind though." Andy rose from the chair, figuring he had taken up more than enough of her time. "Thank you for listening, Captain," he smiled at her sheepishly, the realization that he just confided in her of all people setting in, "and thank you for the school recommendation."

"I'm happy to help, Lieutenant." She leaned back in her chair and rested her hands in her lap.

"I will look up St. Joseph's tonight and see if they have any forms online that I can print off." He gave her a curt nod and headed towards the door.

"Andy," she said suddenly before he could open the door or she could talk herself out of it. Since he had shared his concerns with her, albeit probably unintentionally, she figured the least she could do was help assuage some of them. "Don't be so hard on yourself, or let his typical teenage ire get to you." She offered him another warm smile. "You are doing really well with Rusty, and he knows that, whether or not he's willing to admit it yet."

Not trusting himself to speak, Andy just nodded and smiled in appreciation. He couldn't recall having such an amicable conversation with her, and it was beginning to weird him out. It would be something that needed to be mulled over later when he could find the time to think about something else besides the case and Rusty.

. . .

They had closed the case and for the past hour and a half Andy had been working on his portion of the report, but it had been slow going because he was distracted by thoughts of his situation with Rusty. Even though the kid was sitting at the desk in front of him, he made sure to turn his chair around and propped his feet up on another empty chair, just so he didn't have to look in Andy's direction. They had hardly talked since Cynthia's visit. He thought by giving Rusty his space and the chance to cool off the night before, things would be better between them today. That was not proving to be the case, and he was realizing they needed to have a discussion real soon.

Andy sighed as he hit print on the report. He stood and headed for the printer, finally noticing his partner was missing from the room. "Where's Provenza?" Andy asked, stopping next to Buzz's desk where he was filing away the interview tapes.

Buzz glanced over the side of the tape he held in front of his face, checking that it was labeled properly. "I think he's hiding out in the break room."

Andy's brows rose in surprise. "Why would he be hiding out?"

Buzz tried suppressing a smirk, but failed completely. "I think his pride took a hit from the Captain putting him in his place earlier." There was a hint of glee in his tone, no doubt delighted by Provenza being successfully chastised.

"At least I'm not the only one she practices her skills on," Rusty mumbled from where he was sitting a few feet away.

Andy snorted as he turned to face Rusty. "Trust me kid, you are far from the only one." He leaned his hip against the edge of Buzz's desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "I think you'd be hard pressed to find an officer in this building who hasn't been on the receiving end, or at least witnessed," he added with a tilt of his head, "a verbal lashing from Raydor."

Rusty looked as though he was going to respond, but seemed to remember he wasn't talking to Andy. A look of disdain crossed his features before he turned his chair around and hunched over the notepad he placed on top of the desk.

Andy turned to look at Buzz and found him smiling sympathetically. He shrugged in response, acting as though Rusty's behavior wasn't getting to him. After gathering his pages off the printer and dropping them off at his desk, he headed in the direction of the break room.

Before Andy opened the door, he looked through the window of the room and found his partner sitting at one of the tables. He was slightly turned so that his back rested partially against the chair and partially against the wall next to him. His daily crossword was held out in front of his face and he was filling in one of his answers.

Andy entered the break room, but didn't move further than a few steps just inside the door, leaning back against it once it closed again. "Are you seriously in here sulking?"

"I'm not sulking," Provenza responded smoothly without sparing the other man a glance.

"Then why are you hiding out here in the break room," Andy jerked his head in the direction of the murder room, "instead of working on your puzzle at your desk like you usually do?"

Provenza took in a deep breath and then let it out in a huff. "I just got tired of looking up and seeing her in that office." His deceptively calm demeanor vanished when he slapped the folded paper on the table next to him. "She doesn't belong there!"

Andy rolled his eyes. "Sounds like sulking to me." Figuring that this conversation wasn't going to be short or easy, he moved across the room and took a seat opposite of his partner. "I know you got the short end of the stick on this deal-"

"Ye Gods, I am so sick of hearing that damn word!" Provenza leaned forward and shook his finger at Andy. "The only reason Raydor is in that position is because she's willing to tow the line and go along with this cockamamie plan to save the city money."

Andy wanted to point out there was probably several other factors that got her the job considering the events that lead up to Chief Johnson leaving, but knew that wouldn't get him anywhere. "So what's the big d-" when his partner cocked his head and gave him a warning side glare, he quickly changed his word choice, "issue? You've been shoveling this bureaucratic bullshit your entire career, what's so different now?"

"I'm tired of it, that's what!" Provenza threw his arms out in frustration. "Tomorrow, our suspect will go before the judge and explain how she committed premeditated murder," he enunciated each syllable slowly, "but we've made a deal for manslaughter instead."

"Deep down you know as well as I do that Hobbs and Raydor are right." Andy leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. "Our dirtbag victim was as sleazy as they come, and there was a good chance the jury would let her off for it."

"I still don't like it," Provenza responded, not actually denying that his partner was right, but quickly moved on before Andy could point that out. "And you know what else I don't like?" He didn't wait for the customary 'what' before continuing. "You getting all chummy with Raydor."

"I am not getting chummy with Raydor!" Andy's voice rose an octave, almost coming out as a screech. "Why would you say something like that?"

"You've had a couple of closed door meetings with her recently," Provenza leaned back against the wall, and picked up his puzzle again, casually adding, "what else am I supposed to think?"

"Oh, I don't know," Andy brought a finger to his chin, pretending to give it some thought before narrowing his eyes on his partner, "that we were discussing the material witness that I happen to have living with me right now and," the sarcasm in his tone was growing with each word, "how the search for his mom is going."

"Mm-hmm," Provenza mockingly shook his head from side to side. "That's a convenient excuse if you ask me."

"She's been really helpful with matters involving the kid, that's it." He made a cutting motion through the air with his hand. "Stop trying to make something out of nothing just because you don't wanna play nice."

Seeming to forget his ire, in a much softer tone Provenza asked, "And how is everything going with Rusty?" Andy had filled him in on the rest of the details of Cynthia's visit, and he knew that the kid was giving him a hard time as a result.

"Well," Andy shrugged, "between him and you, I've had my fill of mood swings for the rest of the year." He pointedly ignored the other man's responding scowl. "I decided you were the more optimistic choice to try and talk some sense into." Andy slumped back into the chair. "How do you think it's going?"

"You're an idiot." Provenza rolled his eyes. "You're still gonna have to talk to him."

"I know." Andy scrubbed a hand over his face. "I plan on doing that tonight, even if he tries locking himself in his room again like last night."

"This is what you get for playing good samaritan," Provenza said, and not for the first time.

Andy didn't bother responding. He decided to save what little fight he had left in him; he was going to need it for the discussion that was still to come. Hoping the extra time would help him gather some much needed patience, he had been putting it off, but waiting much longer would only prove to be worse. His frustrations with the situation were persistent as ever, as well as Rusty's infuriating sulking.

They spent the drive home after Major Crimes finally closed their case in tense silence. In an attempt to clamp down on his ever growing irritation with the boy's attitude, Andy had been clutching his steering wheel a little more tightly than usual. By the time he pulled into his usual parking space and loosened his grip, he needed to flex his fingers a few times in order to regain proper feeling in them. His irritation wasn't helped when Rusty practically jumped out of the car the moment it came to a stop, and certainly not when he slammed the passenger door shut with as much force as he could summon.

Andy sighed, retrieved his keys and went after him. Rusty couldn't get into the apartment without him and he would have to wait outside the door, but at this point he wasn't so sure the kid wouldn't try to make a break for it, so he caught up with him as quickly as possible.

On their way up to the apartment, their strained silence continued and was compounded by a few pointedly dirty looks shot Andy's way. It took everything in him to contain his eye roll at the boy's petulant behavior, but when upon entering the condo Rusty wordlessly padded down the hallway to his room, he did mutter, "Provenza's wrong. In comparison to this kid, I am peachy to be around!"

For a moment, Andy deliberated whether to drag Rusty out of his room to talk with him right away or not, but finally decided that if he had to go another round with him, he might as well do it after he put away his badge and gun and made himself a cup of coffee. It was a little late for coffee, but he felt he could use some if he was to survive yet another evening in Rusty's lovely company. Especially since unlike the last evening when they hadn't exchanged a single word, he expected this one to include a decent amount of yelling, on both their parts.

In the bedroom, he also got rid of his suit jacket and removed his tie. The depressing, yet amusing, notion of not wanting to give Rusty an opportunity to strangle him with it crossed Andy's mind when he tossed the tie on top of his bed. When he made his way to the kitchen, he was not surprised that Rusty was still holed up in his room.

Once he got his coffee ready, Andy walked down the hall, took a patience summoning sip of it and lifted his free hand to tap his knuckles against Rusty's door. "Rusty," he said when no answer came. The light was on, so he knew his foster son was still up, "may I, please, come in?" He sighed and lowered his hand to rest his forehead against the door. "We need to talk."

Finally, Rusty responded. "It's your place, it's not like I can stop you."

"You didn't lock the door?" Andy asked, surprise evident as he lifted his head.

"No." Rusty's answer was drawled exaggeratedly.

Andy decided that was as close to permission he would get, so he slowly cracked the door open, and poked his head into the room. Rusty was lying on the far side of his bed, propped against the headboard, typing away on the laptop he was allowed to borrow the day before. Pushing the door fully open, Andy cradled his coffee mug between both hands and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "You still working on those placement tests?" That wasn't why he had knocked on Rusty's door, but taking into account his foul mood, this was the last thing he expected him to be doing, and it caught Andy by surprise.

"No," Rusty said at length, not tearing his gaze away from the screen, "I've moved on to a more important matter."

Confused, Andy's brow drew together. "Like what?"

Rusty turned his head to look at him, and Andy mentally winced when he noted his annoyed expression. "Oh, I don't know," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "how about the search for my mother?" He pressed a key with a little more force than necessary, and returned his focus to the laptop. "Somebody's gotta do it since everybody else obviously," he paused purposefully and flashed an angry look at Andy, "can't be bothered with it."

Andy sighed and rubbed his fingertips against his temple. "Rusty," he said slowly, doing his best to keep the exasperation out of his voice, "we are looking for your mother."

"Yeah, right," Rusty muttered, stubbornly continuing to look at the laptop.

"Yeah, right!" Andy repeated heatedly, raising his voice just fractionally, but enough to prompt Rusty to finally spare him another glance. Once he caught his eye, he continued. "We are tracking not just your mother, but her boyfriend as well. We have put out every possible alert we could think of." Andy pushed off the doorframe and wildly waved around the hand not holding his coffee. "We will get a hit on one of them soon, Rusty, I can promise you that," he said with determination before softening his tone to add, "I just can't tell you when exactly."

Rusty's brow creased, and for a moment Andy thought he might have actually gotten through to him, but then he mumbled, "Promises don't mean much when they're coming from a drunk."

That was the last straw for Andy. "Alright," he barked out, taking a step forward to enter the room properly, "that's it." He regretted the movement almost instantly when he saw Rusty flinch ever so slightly, but his ire would not allow him to stop talking. "Let's talk about that. Actually," Andy looked wildly around the room, before pinning Rusty with a hard look, "let me ask you something. Have you seen a single drop of alcohol in this condo? Have you seen me drink? Drunk? Hungover?" He fired the questions away in rapid succession. "Have you?"

Rusty swallowed noticeably, and he dropped his gaze to Andy's feet as he quietly said, "No." In the next second though, his eyes shot up to Andy's and with almost as much ire as Andy earlier, he added, "But you wouldn't be the first drunk who knew how to hide and get away with it!"

It was the realization that Rusty had more experience with alcoholics than his file let on, that caused Andy to deflate. His instincts told him to sit down next to Rusty on his bed, offer some comfort or reassurances, but instead, he decided to take a step back and lean against the doorframe again. He found the decision to be a good one, because Rusty's shoulders relaxed fractionally. "I'm not hiding it, Rusty," he said quietly. "In fact, my sobriety is one of the things you'll find I'm most honest about." He was quick to amend that statement as he waved both his hands around, nearly spilling his coffee. "Not that I have any intention of lying about anything else, but I've been sober for over fifteen years, Kid. I can't tell you if that'll forever stay that way, but I can promise you I'll do my best so that it does." He shrugged and added matter-of-factly, "It's a day-to-day kind of thing."

He braced himself for another verbal attack, but when Rusty spoke, he actually sounded like the child that he still was, or perhaps never really got to be. "You've really been sober that long?"

If Andy had to guess, he'd say the question sounded slightly hopeful. "Yeah," he answered simply. "Screwed up a lot of things when I wasn't," he admitted, "so now I've got more than enough incentive to stay on the wagon."

He could tell Rusty's wheels were turning. He glanced around the room. "Is that why these two spare rooms stay mostly empty?" It was more of a statement than a question.

Andy nodded. "Yeah," he confirmed gruffly, "pretty much." Trying to shake off the pang of regret that always shot through him when he thought about that, he cleared his throat and let the admission hang between them. He hoped that for the time being it would be enough information for Rusty.

It seemed to be because the boy suddenly returned to the topic of his mother. "If you're so sure you'll find my mom, why do you insist I study for this," he glanced at the computer, "placement test?"

After talking to the Captain the day before, Andy had looked up the school she recommended. He liked what he saw, and aside from placement test examples, found a list of reading material Rusty would need to prepare for it. Until he got him the hard copies, however, there was a small list of online sources Rusty could work on in addition to the site Cynthia gave him. He informed him about it this morning, but considering the cold shoulder he had been receiving ever since Cynthia visited, Andy wasn't sure Rusty had even been listening to him. He took the first sip of his coffee since knocking on Rusty's door and answered honestly. "Because you're a smart kid, Rusty. You could go a long way in school, if only you'd allow yourself to think about it."

Suddenly, Rusty closed his laptop, and with a couple of jerky movements he slid it off his lap and pushed it to the other side of the bed. "There's no place in school for people like me," he bit out as he resettled on the bed, "you and I both know that, so stop acting like it could ever happen."

"It could happen, Rusty," Andy started to argue, taking a step forward to enter the room fully again.

Rusty did not let him continue. "I am not your child for you to be deciding that." He looked Andy up and down with a look of complete derision. "You are not my mom, okay? And certainly not," he scoffed, "my dad."

Andy rolled his eyes, his temper flaring up again. "Well, obviously," he said sarcastically. "What was your first clue?" he asked. "The fact that I was here trying to help, or the fact that I was trying to do so sober?"

He regretted the words even before Rusty's eyes grew wide, and a dumbfounded expression settled in his features. When he seemed rendered speechless, hoping to remedy the situation, Andy made a placating gesture, taking a step closer to Rusty's bed, and said, "I'm sorry, Kid, but this is just the way things are right now. Until we find your mom, I'm all you've got, and you'll just have to try to deal with that."

Rusty didn't respond. He merely shot Andy one last contemptible look and rolled onto his side, turning his back toward Andy.

Sighing, Andy slumped his shoulders and shook his head. Admitting defeat, he walked out of the room. "Good night, Rusty," he said quietly and closed the door without even waiting for the reply that never came.

-TBC-

A/N: As always, we would love to know what you all think!