HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

This chapter has nothing to do with Mother's Day. However, there will be an upcoming scene in a future chapter involving a little, tiny, Mother's Day treat for Sharon.


Unlocking the door to her condo, she pushed it open only to be greeted with the sounds of conversation. The voices were low and strange. She couldn't make out the exact words, but it was obviously not the television. A quick glance at her watch told her it was just past seven. Rusty should be home by now. Just Rusty. She'd changed the locks so Jack couldn't be here. She'd recognize his voice anyway.

She kept her purse, which also held her service weapon, with her as she rounded the corner and stepped into the small dining room.

She forced a smiled out of habit.

She had guests.

Or rather, Rusty had guests. Three of them. Two young women and a young man. She was relieved to note they were all close to his age, at least.

"Hey," Rusty raised the pencil in hand up in an almost wave.

"Hi," she managed to say as she, with reluctance, removed her hands from her purse strap attempting to adopt a more relaxed posture. This was his home too. He was legally an adult. If he wanted to have friends over, there was nothing wrong with that. Especially, since- going by the books and papers spread out over the table- it appeared as though they were studying.

Rusty gave her an odd look. "Umm…so the school library was closed because of a water main break. Apparently, the whole thing is flooded."

"Rusty said we could come here and study for our final tomorrow," one of the girls piped up, flashing Sharon a huge grin. "You don't mind, right?"

"No, no, of course not," Sharon replied, knowing it was the right response, but feeling incredibly uneasy with strangers in her home that she hadn't been expecting.

She was rewarded with smiles from all of the kids at her dining room table. She hoped her own smile didn't look as forced as it felt. It wasn't that she didn't want Rusty bringing friends over. He deserved to try and have a normal life despite Philp Stroh. She was thrilled he had friends, honestly. It was just unexpected and she was tired. Their case was getting nowhere, and she'd ended up sending everyone home for a full night's rest. They needed a break if they were going to be of any use to Marissa or the other women.

Guilt mixed with her unease fairly rapidly. Just because she'd had several long frustrating days at work recently didn't mean he wasn't allowed to have friends over.

"How's your case?" Rusty asked.

"Oh, yeah." The other young man at the table grew excited. "Rusty said you're one of the detectives looking for the missing women on TV."

"That's right," she agreed. Their expectant gazes made her realize they were waiting to hear something more. She gave them the same answer she'd given the reporters waiting for her outside the parking garage. "The FBI is lending us a hand now, so hopefully we'll have some answers soon."

Rusty smirked at the standard answer, and the girl who'd yet to speak seemed amused by it as well. The other two seemed sufficiently impressed, however.

"That sounds exciting. Do you get to work with the FBI a lot?" the girl with the flashing grin asked.

"Sometimes," Sharon answered before changing the subject. "What subject are you working on?"

"Psychology," Rusty replied.

"It's going to be a really hard test," the talkative girl with the flashy smile replied. Sharon couldn't help but wonder if she was always so cheerful. "You see, the professor thinks multiple choice tests are too easy and don't show if you actually know the answer." She rolled her eyes. "So, basically, we now have to do this stupid fill in the blank and essay questions thing. Which is ridiculous. Don't you think? Of course we know the answers. We're studying, aren't we?"

"I'm sure you'll do very well." She glanced towards the kitchen and moved towards it before giving herself an opportunity to escape from her own living room. She would not do anything to discourage Rusty from bringing friends home, and she needed to eat something before bed. She dropped her purse in one of the barstools before beginning the search of her kitchen.

"Have you had dinner yet?" she asked more out of habit than politeness. She mentally winced at her own words. Her older kids would have been unreasonably embarrassed if she'd offered to cook for their friends when they were teenagers. However, She couldn't even bring herself to regret the words once they were out of her mouth. The four of them looked at her, and suddenly they all looked incredibly hungry. And Rusty didn't look embarrassed or angry.

The girl who hadn't said anything yet finally broke her silence. "You don't have to make anything for us, ma'am. We'll be fine."

Sharon decided she liked the quiet one. "How about pizza?" It wasn't her meal of choice for the night, but it was easy. And tradition dictated it was best when eaten while studying. She left her kitchen to search through her purse, and, finding her wallet, she removed her bank card. She returned her purse to her shoulder and handed Rusty her card. "Order what you'd like. Just make sure there are a few slices of cheese for me."


She placed both hands on her lower back, locating her duty belt, and moved her hands over it, checking to be sure everything was in its place. She was only satisfied when her hands met in the front. It was a habit developed years ago, and her increase in rank hadn't dissipated the ritual. With her hands still on her belt, Sharon glanced quickly in the mirror on her closet door before stepping out of her bedroom.

It was Wednesday morning. Two days had passed with no new leads. The lab analysis of the trash from Marissa Josa's apartment was a dead end. Other than finding her hair and toothbrushes, there were no fingerprints or DNA to be found that belonged to their suspect, or UNSUB as the BAU liked to call him. She had remained secluded in her bedroom most of the night giving the kids room to talk and study while she caught up on rest. She had joined them briefly when the pizza arrived. Once she'd finished eating, she'd left them with a request to keep the noise to a minimum so she could get some rest. It had been almost a week since Marissa Josa was last seen. It had been two days since they'd searched her apartment, and they were no closer now to finding her or the other women than they were before.

Obviously, a goodnight's sleep had made her feel more optimistic, she thought sarcastically.

She stepped into the kitchen to find the refrigerator open. Rusty turned his head in her direction.

"Morning." Rusty rubbed his eye with a knuckle.

"Good morning. You're up early."

Rusty yawned. "The schedule is different during finals week. I have to be there an hour and a half earlier today."

She smiled. "I see."

She stepped into the kitchen, her hand resting on his shoulder as she leaned around him so she could pull out a bowl of fruit she'd cut up previously. "How did studying go last night?"

Rusty shrugged. "Pretty good, I guess. We'll find out today."

"I'm sure you'll do fine." She rubbed her hand in small back and forth movements on his shoulder briefly before getting a fork, then going to sit on one of the barstools.

Rusty glanced at her bowl of fruit then back into the refrigerator before sighing. He closed the refrigerator and grabbed a fork from the drawer. She smiled when he stood across from her over the counter and stuck his fork in a piece of honeydew. Only after he had the fruit half way to his mouth did he stop and look at her as though asking for permission. She nodded, her smile still firmly in place.

Her older kids had never thought twice about eating right off her plate. Sometimes they'd take the fork from her hand. She never thought twice about letting that happen. At most she had given them a reproachful look if the circumstances warranted it. More often than not, they didn't.

Rusty, on the other hand, had only recently tried anything like that. They lived together for weeks before he'd asked to try a bite of something new that she'd ordered at a restaurant. Months before he'd accept food from her plate that she couldn't finish. It was nice to see him relaxed enough to share a bowl of fruit with her for breakfast.

"How many finals do you have today?" she asked before spearing a piece of cantaloupe.

"Two. Psychology and history."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he'd studied for the history one as well, but he was in college now. He didn't need her to remind him to study for all his tests.

"And, before you ask," he sounded only mildly exasperated as he demonstrated his mind reading abilities, but smiled regardless. "I studied for the history exam, too."

She found herself chuckling silently, and her shoulders rose and fell in the process. "I'm glad to hear that."

They ate breakfast in silence for a few minutes.

"Sharon?" He didn't wait for a response. "You don't mind that I invited people over to study, right."

"Of course not, honey." She thought for a second. "In the future, however, a text message warning me that there are people in my house would be appreciated."

"You're sure?" Rusty's eyes met hers briefly before returning to the half empty bowl of fruit.

"Yes. Very sure. And thank you for cleaning up after yourselves last night."

Rusty shrugged. "Katie insisted they could take the garbage out with them when they left since it was on the way."

Katie was the quiet one if she remembered correctly. She liked the quiet one. "That was very kind of her."

"Yeah," Rusty ate another piece of fruit. "Her dad is a cop. Not with the LAPD. He works with the Sheriff's Office."

"Really?"

Rusty nodded.

She pushed the last piece of fruit towards him with her fork. He popped it in his mouth before taking the bowl to the sink.

"I'll probably be back late tonight," she told Rusty as she stood from the barstool.

"Okay." He began heading towards the hallway.

"Good luck on your exams." She called after him as she moved towards the door.

"Thanks." His voice was slightly muffled by the distance.


"I'm telling you-" Andy started to say before he went quiet at the sight of the approaching FBI agent.

Derek gave him a faint smile. "Want some help?" he offered, noticing that the two most senior detectives were gathered over something near Provenza's desk.

"We're good. Thanks."

"All right. But, uh, I think it's supposed to go the other way," Derek said with a shrug.

Flynn looked down as Provenza flipped the toner cartridge over, watching as it slid easily into the printer.

"Hey," momentarily forgetting that he still didn't like the FBI agent, Flynn said with a smile. "That worked. Thanks."

Provenza rolled his eyes. "Tell me again why this couldn't wait for Buzz to get here?"

This time it was Flynn's turn to roll his eyes.

Derek chuckled. Work could never be boring with those two around. He moved to look at the pictures on the Murder Board. "I still can't believe the trash was clean. Why does a person even make sure the stuff they're throwing out doesn't have fingerprints or DNA on it?"

"It did have DNA," Flynn corrected.

"Marissa Josa's DNA," Provenza added.

"Right." Derek sighed. "How is that possible? This guy had to clean up a huge mess. How does he do that without leaving his own DNA somewhere?"

"He vacuumed some of it up," Flynn answered, coming to stand in front of the pictures. "One of the neighbors saw him remove a vacuum from one of the girls' apartment."

"What if it wasn't a vacuum, though?" Derek suggested. "Marissa's place had recently been steam cleaned."

Provenza shook his head. "We asked SID about that. They concluded it was vacuumed after it was steam cleaned. Considering she'd just moved in to get away from her abusive husband, it's more likely she's the one who cleaned it, and our guy just vacuumed over it."

"Damn it," Derek swore. "We could have looked into steam cleaning rentals. Gotten a lead."

Flynn empathetically clapped the FBI agent's shoulder.


"What is that, anyway?" Aaron was sitting across from Rossi in the Break Room.

"Lunch. The meal commonly served between coffee and dinner."

Aaron gave a small amused smirk. "I realize that. Thank you."

"I got it from the little cafeteria downstairs. It's supposed to be Chicken Pot Pie."

"I think they forgot the chicken."

"I think they forgot that pies have an inside." Rossi stuck his fork in again anyway. He'd eaten worse, and the closest place to eat besides the cafeteria was across from the parking garage that was three blocks away.

"I'm going to call Garcia, see if she's found any connection between our victims other than the DV incidents," Aaron said after taking the last bite of his sandwich. "I'll let you know if she's found something."

David thought that last line unnecessary, but nodded anyway. Of course, Aaron would tell everyone if Garcia found something. Come to think of it, they'd never have to ask Garcia because she'd tell them anyway. He kept his eyes on his food as Hotch stepped out of sight, but turned his head when he heard Hotch speak.

"Captain," Hotch held the door open for her as she stepped though.

"Thank you," Sharon smiled politely as Hotch left the Break Room. She caught sight of Rossi soon after. "Agent Rossi."

"Captain." He acknowledged before returning to his food. He managed to finish off the pot pie in three more bites before deciding he needed coffee to get the taste out of his mouth.

Setting the paper bag containing her sandwich and apple on the counter Sharon returned to the refrigerator, she pulled out her sugar-free hazelnut creamer. She didn't normally drink this much coffee, but she was determined to use it up before it went bad.

The creamer felt much emptier than it had last time she used it. Someone had been helping her it seemed. She couldn't bring herself to mind really. At least it wasn't going to waste.

"We're going to need to use that up pretty soon," Rossi commented from beside her.

At least she knew who'd been helping her with the creamer now.

"You're welcome to as much as you'd like." She poured herself some creamer before handing the container to him.

"Thanks." He went about making himself a cup while she added coffee to her own mug. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't ask first. Cops can be picky about their coffee, I know."

"It's fine. I'd rather it be used than have to throw it away."

Rossi nodded. "I'm guessing you're more of a tea drinker anyway."

She nodded and took a sip of her coffee before the suggestion of a smirk crossed her features. "Didn't I hear Agent Jareau mention a rule about profiling the people you're working with?"

"Internal agency regulations are confidential information. I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of such a rule."

"Ahh, I see." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she picked up her lunch bag. "I should get back to work."

"Lunch and paperwork. That will give you indigestion, you know?" Rossi joked.

"I have lots of overtime to justify."

"Good luck." Rossi raised his mug as though to toast her, and returned the smile as she turned and left the break room.


It was late in the afternoon when Sharon walked out of her office with a determined controlled pace despite her well hidden excitement. "I just got a call from Lt. Davis in the Commercial Auto Theft Section—"

"Did you tell the CATS to play in their own litterbox because we've got bigger problems?" Provenza interjected.

"They raided a chop shop this morning," Sharon continued as though she hadn't been interrupted. "One of the cars they found had the VIN and plates removed, but was a red '98 Toyota Camry with blood on the upholstery."

Without further instruction, every member of her team was on their feet grabbing their gear.

"Reid, Prentiss, Morgan, go with them," Hotch ordered, even though the agents were already gearing up as well.

"Where?" Sanchez asked as he buttoned his jacket.

"North Hollywood. Lt Davis just texted me the address." Raydor handed her phone to Amy who scribbled the address on a piece of paper before ripping it off the legal pad and joining the others as they headed towards the elevator.

Hotch and Rossi came to stand by her as they watched their teams leave.


So, CATS is an actual division of the LAPD. I decided to look up what division of the LAPD would raid a chop shop. And laughed a little. Then decided that whoever makes up names like CATS and SOB for divisions in the LAPD has a great since of humor. *applauds that person*

Thoughts?