Notes: We will finally meet The Other Sharon in the next chapter. Thank you for all of your comments! :)

When the Winds of Changes Shift

rosabelle

Chapter VII

"Does the captain seem a little off to you?"

Provenza glanced up from his crossword. "Why do I care? Why do you care?"

"She seems a little off to me." It was like Flynn wasn't even listening to him. "She's been quiet for a couple of days."

"I wouldn't know," Provenza informed him. "I can't remember that far back. In fact, by this time tomorrow, it'll be like we never had this conversation."

He couldn't wait for that.

But Flynn was at least an observant idiot, because Provenza had noticed it too.

The phone call a few days ago, the one that she'd taken in her office. She'd been distracted ever since then, and she had hardly taken any satisfaction at Amy's discovery that their dead professor had probably been murdered by one of the two teaching assistants he'd been doing a little after-hours studying with. Which one of them had actually done it remained to be seen yet; Sanchez and Sykes were out rounding them up.

He wondered what the excuse would be this time. Jealousy, revenge, or maybe even a good old "it just happened." He'd heard it all before. There was nothing new under the sun.

Sharon had given the order to pick up both of their suspects and then she had retreated into her office. The blinds were open and Provenza could see that there was paperwork on the desk in front of her, but her concentration was failing her; she looked up every two seconds to take a sip of tea or check her watch or tuck her hair behind her ears, and any moment now she was bound to notice that Flynn (the idiot) was staring at her.

Provenza rolled up his newspaper. Flynn was sitting too far away to reach over and whack him, so he lobbed it at him instead.

"Hey," he grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "What was that for?"

"That was a warning," Provenza informed him. "Next is the stapler. I think you need a new psychiatrist. This one's not doing a damn thing for you."

Flynn rolled his eyes, but the door opened before he could answer to the sound of Sanchez's voice instructing, "This way, please, ma'am."

So there was a God.

"This is like, totally illegal," a woman's voice complained. "I already told you, my roommate used the computer last night, and the night before that, and the night before—"

"You're not here because you torrent Game of Thrones." He could tell from Amy's voice that this was at least the third time she'd said it. "We need to ask you a few questions about James Alvarez. Down the hall, Ms. Janson."

Provenza cleared his throat, doing his damnedest not to laugh until the young woman Sykes and Sanchez were ushering in was safely escorted down to interview one. Flynn chuckled quietly, and shook his head as he waved Sanchez over.

"I thought there were two," Provenza said. He took another glance at the woman standing with Sykes and an officer. She was all of five feet tall with hair that resembled rainbow sherbet. Which wasn't to say that she wasn't a psychopath, but given that the body had been moved, his money was on the other one. Or maybe they'd done it together. He'd seen that before too.

"The other one, Rebecca Brown, she wasn't at work, sir," Sanchez said in a low voice. "Cancelled her study sessions for the day and stayed home sick. We sent a patrol car to her house to see if she's there."

Provenza nodded, and waved Sanchez back toward Sykes and the woman with her. "I'll let the captain know."

"I could—"

"You could not be an idiot and go wait in electronics," Provenza suggested. "Tao's already there. He and Buzz were..." He rolled his eyes as he stood up. "Something about a new... electro something."

Small favors and all that because Flynn did as he was told, and Provenza crossed the room to alert the captain. He retrieved his crossword on the way there, tucking it beneath his arm before he knocked on the door.

"Come in."

"Sanchez and Sykes brought in Anna Janson," he informed her. "They're waiting in interview one, whenever you're ready."

"What about the other young woman?" she asked. "What was her name, again?"

"Rebecca Brown. Called in sick," he said. "Patrol went by her house to pick her up, if she's there."

"Let's start with seeing what Anna has to say for herself, then." Sharon stood. She hadn't taken more than two steps away from her desk when her phone rang; she fished it out of her pocket and whoever it was, it wasn't someone she was anxious to hear from. Her face darkened for a moment when she silenced the ringer.

"You look like I do when my ex calls."

She gave him a bland sort of look as she turned the phone all the way off. "I know for a fact you and Liz have dinner every other Sunday."

"Not Liz," he told her. "Heather."

"Ah." She slid the phone back into her pocket.

"Uh, Captain. Sharon." He cleared his throat. "How are things?"

Her long silence didn't bode well.

"When was the last time you spoke to Rusty?" she said at last.

"After he got fired the second time," he said, and her lips curved into a reluctant smile. "The time he brought you lunch. Why?"

"We're in a bit of a... situation." Her smile tightened. "His mother's come back to town."

He hadn't expected that. Maybe the kid had gotten himself fired again or made some friends that didn't meet the captain's stringent standards. But his mother was an entirely different kettle of fish, and that explained a lot. Like her subdued reactions and the tension he could see lining her face.

"I'm guessing she hasn't come to return the money she took off with."

"Lieutenant." It was a half-hearted admonishment. She shook her head. "Rusty tells me she claims to be doing better. She wants to see him."

He made a skeptical sound. "Does he want to see her?"

"He does." She folded her arms. "As you can imagine, it's created a very..." She paused, clearing her throat. "A very difficult situation for me to navigate, but we'll be fine."

"The phone call?"

"Something else entirely." She indicated the door with a wave of her hand. "I would hate to keep Ms. Janson waiting."


"Dr. Bowman has an opening at three, the Monday after next. It's yours if you want it."

"Yeah," Rusty said. "Okay."

"I'll put you down," the woman on the other end of the phone said. He'd always liked Dr. Joe's receptionist. She understood that he wasn't too old for candy, and let him take two from the jar they kept up front whenever no one was watching. "We'll see you then."

"Okay," he said again. "Thanks. Bye."

He hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket, wrinkling his nose as the wind changed directions and he got a breath full of marijuana. He'd gone out by the dumpster for privacy because he didn't want to make this call in the break room where anyone could hear him, but his coworkers used the dumpster area for privacy too and not for phone calls to their therapists.

He still had to answer his mom's latest email, but he headed inside instead. He could do that from his phone, but he thought he'd probably wait until he got home later. It would probably be a better idea to wait until he'd seen Dr. Joe before seeing his mom and he really did know that, but she wanted to know if he was available this weekend.

I can't wait to see your face again. What are you doing on Saturday?

He had waited so long to see her and he just really needed to see her, and... he would see her tonight, if that's what she wanted.

He'd waited long enough.

But it was still hard to really feel much beyond the need, whether it was excited or happy or anything but besides anxious about the whole thing, because what if she changed her mind? What if she didn't show up? What was she going to say to him? What was he going to say to her?

He'd had a long time to think about that, but everything that he had wanted to say to her during all those years now sounded either too pathetic and desperate, or too angry, and... either of those things could be enough to scare her away. He needed her to see that he had changed, and for her to know that reaching out to him had been the right thing for her to do. He just didn't know how.

"Hey, Rusty."

He did a double take at the person who held the door open for him. "Oh hey, Nate." He paused. "Do you work today?"

"Nah." Which should have been obvious because Nate was wearing regular clothing. "Just came to get my check."

And it wasn't like he'd spent a whole lot of time thinking about what sort of clothes Nate might wear—no, okay, that would've been weird, but he looked... normal and relaxed, and when he was relaxed, he smiled, and...

"Well... I've got to get to class, so I guess I'll see you around," Nate said, stepping forward to open the door again for a customer on her way out because he was, like, a way better person than Rusty. "Have a good one."

"See you," Rusty echoed, watching him go.

He wasn't sure what to do about that, either.


"Hey."

"Hey." Sharon dropped her keys in the bowl on the bureau. She inhaled, smiling as she exhaled. "You made dinner two nights in a row?"

"It's just pizza," he said from the kitchen. "But like, there's vegetables on it. And I went and bought more of that salad stuff."

"That was very thoughtful of you," she said, coming to lean against the bar. "Thank you."

He just shrugged, and went to get plates from the cabinet. She frowned at the back of his head. He was still feeling guilty for what he'd said the night before. She was still hurting from it too—that scar would take awhile to heal over-but she'd forget faster if he stopped giving her furtive glances and avoiding eye contact.

"I called Dr. Joe," he said, his back still to her.

She raised an eyebrow. "Did you?"

"You sound surprised."

"I am, a little." She slid onto one of the stools, kicking her feet free of her heels. She slid her feet back and forth across the bottom rung of the stool, closing her eyes in relief. It felt good to sit. "But I think that was a very good decision. When's your appointment?"

"The week after next," he told her. "But, um... I—I told my mom that I would see her on Saturday."

"Oh," she said, her fingers searching for safety in her pockets. She bit her lip, trying hard to remind herself that she didn't get to decide what Rusty was ready for and when. That wasn't up to her. But—she wasn't sure what it would do to him in the event that his mother left again, and it was hardly reassuring to know that he was aware it was a possibility. She didn't want to see him hurt again by someone who should have loved him.

Maybe there had been some truth to Rusty's words the night before after all, if she looked beneath the misplaced anger and the fear. She wanted Jack to know his children, for all of their sakes. It was different with Rusty. She hadn't liked Daniel, either.

It still upset her, thinking about that.

Sharon swallowed against the tightness in her throat, ill at ease with herself.

"Rusty," she said quietly, watching him pull forks from the drawer. "If you really want to bring your mother here, I'll make myself scarce."

"And that's... okay?" His voice was small. "Like... really?"

"Mm," she said. "I've been needing a haircut, and it's been awhile since I've had lunch with Chief Johnson and DDA Hobbs."

"Seriously, Sharon?" It was nice to know that whatever life crises he was suffering through, he would never be too distracted to roll his eyes at her. "Do you make them call you Captain Raydor too?"

"Anyway." She ignored him. "I'm just letting you know that if you would like to show your mother around here, I'll be out for most of the day."

"Thanks," he said, after a brief pause. "That... thanks, Sharon."

She tried to smile at him.

They both jumped when the timer beeped. "Pizza's done," he announced unnecessarily.

Yes, thank you, she hadn't noticed. She took the plates he handed her and carried them to the table while he took the pizza from the oven.

"Did you solve your murder?"

"We did."

He shut the oven door with his foot, balancing carefully with the pizza in his hands. Sharon winced when the door slammed. "Rusty."

"Right," he said. "Sorry."

"Be careful," she said, watching him carry the pizza to the table.

"I said I was sorry."

He had said that the last three times, too. She could reprimand him all she wanted and he would forget anyway. And he wondered why she reminded him to drive safely every single time. Because it was necessary, that was why.

"So who did it?"

"One of his teaching assistants," she told him. "When she discovered that she wasn't the only one he was involved with. We sent officers to her home when she didn't show up for class, and they found her in the middle of destroying evidence."

"What, like at her house?" Rusty shook his head when she nodded. "That's, like—everyone knows you're not supposed to just leave the murder weapon lying around." He brandished the pizza cutter for emphasis.

"Really," she said.

"I live with you, okay?" he said. "And, as you know, I watch a lot of TV."

She pressed her lips together, and took a slice of pizza. "I do know."

"Not that I would ever kill anyone," he added, almost as an afterthought.

She was glad that he could still joke about things like that. It almost made all those sleepless nights worth it. "I should hope not."

"So you won this time?"

"We did." She smiled at him. "And how was your day? Did you get paid?"

"Yeah," he said. "It was... fine."

Some things never changed.

"Hey, Sharon?"

Or maybe they did. He always fidgeted when he was anxious, but this time he leaned towards her, hesitating, like he wanted to tell her something he couldn't quite bring himself to say. She waited. "If I... asked you something, do you think like... maybe you could just answer without asking any questions?"

She gave him a sharp look. The fidgeting increased in the face of her scrutiny. "Are you in any imminent danger?"

He blinked. "No."

Her heart beat a little quicker anyway. "Then I will do my best. What's on your mind?"

"I..." She could tell he was tugging at his shirt again. "Um... I—I... how do you... I mean, like, what do you..."

Was he blushing?

Sharon raised an eyebrow.

"Never mind," he said, looking away. "It's nothing."

Oh, Rusty.

"Well," she said carefully. "If you ever want to talk about nothing, you know where to find me."

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I know."

She wasn't sure that she was ready for that, either. From the way he was glaring down into his pizza, his expression confused and hard to decipher, neither was he. It broke her heart a little, to see that expression on his face.

He gave her a desperate sort of look, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the silence between them lengthened. She took pity on him.

"Oh," she said, clearing her throat as she remembered. "I've been meaning to ask you. You... haven't heard from Jack recently, have you?"

He looked more confused than ever now, but clearly he was happy with any change of subject. "No. Why? Should I have?"

"No," she said quickly. "Definitely not. I was just wondering, that's all."

"Are you worried about him or something?"

"Or something," she said, in a tone she hoped would convey they had reached the end of that discussion. Whatever Jack was selling, she wasn't buying, but that he'd called her twice now was unusual. She was just glad he seemed to be leaving everyone else out of it.

"Are you, like, okay?" Rusty gave her a worried glance, then sighed. "I know, it's none of my business."

She smiled a little. "Don't worry about me."

She and Jack hadn't worked out. It was a statement of fact. She'd made her peace with that, but every time he popped back into her life and disrupted it, she felt some of that peace ebb away, and after last summer... She wondered what it might be like to sever all those remaining ties between them. It wasn't even that she wanted another relationship. She wasn't sure that she did, honestly. There was something to be said for living alone. It had been quiet and peaceful, her things were always right where she left them and the place was easy to keep clean, and she could do what she wanted when she wanted. She had friends and she had her children. She didn't feel like those years of her life had lacked for anything.

On the other hand, as she had told Rusty the other night, there were upsides. She still wished, sometimes, that she and Jack had grown into the quiet sort of understanding her parents had, the sort where they communicated with just a look and a smile. It would have been nice, to have had that. But she would rather be happier alone than repeat how desperately unhappy and stressed and afraid she had been that last year before Jack had finally left.

Rusty was still watching her.

She shook her head, and took another slice of pizza. "Oh no," she said. "I'm not asking questions, but I'm not answering any, either. We can watch a movie when you're done, if you want. Whatever you want."

It wasn't her most subtle transition, but it did the trick. "Whatever I want?"

He would give her cause to regret that. She'd thought that her older children had had the worst taste in entertainment. Then she'd met Rusty... and there she went again, thinking of him as her third child. Sharon swallowed, the food tasteless in her mouth. "Whatever you want," she agreed quietly, wondering if it would hurt more to break herself of the habit, or to not.