A/N: Thanks so much to everyone reading and reviewing this story :).

Remember when I said this would have 10-12 chapters? Ha, ha, jk! (I feel that textspeak better expresses my embarrassment over this :P). Turns out I had no idea what I was talking about. We're looking at like, 15, because the story kept growing ... but i will STILL try to post them by Monday night. We'll see how that goes. At the very least we'll get through the end of the work week in the universe of the story, and past the day of the funeral.

No Such Thing as a Perfect Family (10)

The brief conversation with Rusty had given Sharon some peace of mind. She'd finally told him that she wanted him to stay, and he hadn't argued anymore, and there at least was one positive thing about the whole terrible affair. But what relief that might have brought was quickly smothered underneath the weight of her ever-growing anguish.

The more time passed and the closer they got to the funeral, the heavier her heart became. The initial shock of Monday night's events had begun to wear off, replaced now by a deep, sorrowful longing. She needed nothing more than to be with her family; so much that the ghosts of their faces and voices were her constant companion, and her chest constricted each time she recognized she wouldn't be there, wouldn't be able to share in the solace and grief of their coming together.

She wasn't just being forced to deprive them of her help and comfort, she realized – she'd had to relinquish the chance for that comfort for herself, and that was perhaps even more damaging. Her family, Sharon consoled herself, still had each other, and with or without her presence they would still pull together and keep each other strong. In her isolation from them, she fared far worse.

She wished, so dearly that her heart ached she wished that she could be with them.

Going in to work didn't do much to keep her mind off the pervasive sorrow. Sharon tried to stick to business as usual, but it was difficult and everyone around was still on pins and needles. Worse, in addition to the sympathetic looks from her team (which were only getting more and more distressed with every day and hour), there were now three new Robbery-Homicide and two Traffic officers who scrutinized her a lot more keenly and with far less gallant intentions, and even though she knew that it probably wasn't true, it felt as though her private life were in a very unwelcome limelight.

True to her word, she'd let Provenza take point on the case, not least of all because she didn't want her own troubles to impair their capacity to solve it. Still, even in a less involved role she found it draining… and in any event the case wasn't being solved all that efficiently, either.

"–implicated in the attempted robbery of a convenience store. Sebastian 'Buddy' Hall was caught and convicted, served five years, paroled last year for good behavior." Lt. Tao pinned a mug shot to the murder board.

The one Robbery-Homicide Lieutenant, a tall man with graying hair, looked doubtful. "This guy did time for trying to steal some cash and a few six-packs of beer. He's doesn't fit the profile of our car jackers."

Provenza's eyebrows arched. "Didn't know you were a profiler now, Collins."

"I'm just saying," the man retorted irritatedly, "that we've got better leads to follow, such as the chop shop owner on thirty-sixth, or the fact that the second murder was in gang territory."

Provenza rolled his eyes. "Yes, bringing gangs into it is exactly what this case needs." He waved a hand at the murder board. "Which part of this says 'gang operation' to you, exactly?"

"More likely than 'small time paroled crook ' operation," Collins shot back.

Sharon suppressed the need to lower her face in her hands. Inter-division cooperation had been going far from smoothly that morning, and it did not promise to get better.

This joint task force was an exercise in diplomacy, and unfortunately most of her team really were team players only when it came to each other. Provenza scoffed at every other word that came out of the Robbery-Homicide people's mouths. Flynn was poking holes in most of their arguments. Sanchez was monosyllabic. Even Sykes, whom Sharon had expected to be fairly welcoming, was in fact blatantly siding with the two Lieutenants, which maybe wasn't so surprising after all – she may have felt her own acceptance was too fresh to risk doing anything else but closing the ranks.

"The bullets we recovered from one of the victims match the one Hall fired in the convenience store," Tao hurried to put in before the argument could continue, "so we know at least his gun was used in the carjackings. But," he conceded, "'Buddy' did say in his original statement that he threw the gun away after it went off in the store, and it was never recovered, so it is a long shot…"

"Going after Hall is a gigantic waste of time," Collins insisted, to nods from his two detectives.

"He's the last known connection we have to one of our murder weapons," said Flynn. "Of course we're gonna want to talk to him."

"He threw the gun away six years ago!"

"So he says," Provenza corrected. "Criminals have been known, on occasion, to lie."

"I say the chop shop owner is our better bet."

"And I say your wife is lucky you don't live in Vegas."

Collins' face flushed. "Captain Raydor!"

Sharon sighed.

"I agree with Lt. Provenza," she said, knowing it wouldn't help matters; sure enough, the Robbery-Homicide officers exchanged displeased glances. "Let's get Buddy Hall's location from his parole officer, and bring him in to tell us exactly what he did with that gun six years ago. In the meantime…Det. Sanchez, can you and Det. Sykes look into the gang angle anyway?" At the man's nod, she added. "I don't think that's what we're dealing with here, but it's too early to completely rule anything out…."

It surprised her a little, how even saying those few sentences had left her nearly breathless.

She knew she wasn't doing a great job staying focused, and she knew that the team were working extra hard to make things easier for her. But there was only so much they could do, and while she felt so grateful for the silent support, no amount of effort on their part could compensate for her being unable to go and be with her family. And however much she forced her mind back to the case, her spirits sunk lower with every passing second.

By noon, the tensions between the different divisions had escalated to the point where they'd willingly separated into three different assignments, to at least avoid more screaming matches. The Major Crimes team openly enjoyed the reprieve, glad to have their murder room to themselves again after a morning full of bickering and the divisions trying to one-up each other. They didn't hold themselves particularly responsible for the breakdown in communications (Lt. Collins had endeared himself to no one), but it didn't surprise them, either, when Chief Taylor showed up and crankily advised the Captain to remind her squad what 'collaboration' meant.

Raydor did, but she didn't put much heart into scolding them, although they couldn't tell for sure if that was because she truly didn't find them all that guilty, or because she was too tired to work up a good lecture.

Then things took a slightly unexpected turn.

" – and while this case is primarily in Major Crimes jurisdiction, this is a joined task force, and our colleagues from Robbery-Homicide and Traffic have just as much right…" Mid-way through her half-hearted pep talk on inter-division collaboration, Sharon trailed off as she noticed a few puzzled looks toward the doorway behind her. When she turned her head, her breath hitched in her throat.

A young man had paused in doorway, his expression somewhat uncertain, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his leather jacket as he waited for her attention.

Her hand flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her lips

"Ricky…!"

And her heart nearly stopped when the young man gave his incredibly familiar self-deprecating smile and shrug. "Hi, Mom."

Sharon was too stunned to do anything but stare in dazed silence, but when her son closed the distance between them in three big steps and enveloped her in a hug, her arms automatically went around him, her fingers clasping the back of his jacket like a lifeline.

It took her a couple of minutes to recover, and although she couldn't quite remember how they'd gotten to her office, she was grateful for the privacy, because the composure that hadn't quite broken under the strain of the past days had definitely vanished completely with the shock and joy of seeing her son.

She touched a hand to his cheek, slightly surprised and immensely grateful that he didn't grimace awkwardly as he usually did. "What are you doing here, honey? I'm so happy to see you," her voice unexpectedly cracked, "I am, but…"

"Katie told me you were having problems," he admitted. "You kind of freaked her out, Mom." He'd meant it half-jokingly, but when her eyes filled with tears he winced. "Okay… and now you're kind of freaking me out." He'd never seen her like this. "What's going on? ...Is this because of grandpa?"

She looked up for a second, an attempt to hold the tears at bay. "I'm going to miss him very much," she said quietly, her breath catching again. She couldn't talk more about it, couldn't even think more on it because she could feel the reins on her grief slipping.

"I know… me too." The young man sighed. "It's… weird, you know? I mean, we knew he was getting older but…this was just so…" He trailed off at her expression. "Sorry. This isn't helping."

"Don't apologize honey," she smiled in understanding. "I know how you felt about grandpa. And he loved you, so much."

They were silent for a second, lost in their own thoughts, and then Ricky spoke again. "I've missed you, Mom. I'm sorry about… all this." He gave her an earnest look. "Please come up with me to grandpa's funeral. We need you there… you need to be there."

Sharon's eyes closed for a second, her expression growing more distant. "Honey, I want to, so much," she whispered, "please don't think I don't want to be there, but… I just… it's… not possible."

"Why?" he asked quietly, and grimaced at her silent headshake. "Mom, come on… I know you think Katie and I are still kids, but we're worried about you." He caught her hands and rubbed them gently between his, a little surprised to find them ice cold.

A smile made its way through her pained expression. "Mother's privilege. I get to see you as kids until you're fifty." It was the first time in days that she'd felt the least inclined to joke, and just the realization of that brought tears to her eyes again.

"Mom..." Ricky sounded like he didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. Hang in there, okay?" He patted her hands a little awkwardly. "It'll be okay." That didn't seem to help much, making him even more worried. "Can you at least tell me what's going on? Did something else happen?" After a few seconds with no real answer, he changed tactics: "Is it classified?"

The droll question earned him a small chuckle. "No, it's not classified," she said finally, "it's just… complicated." Sharon took a deep breath, steeling herself. "This isn't something you need to worry about though, honey."

He couldn't quite suppress an eye-roll. "That ship's already sailed," he pointed out, then adopted his most persuasive expression. "Look, Mom… whatever it is, that's why I'm here, so we can figure it out. This isn't right, you not being able to go up for grandpa's funeral." He squeezed her hand. "Will you please just let me at least think of a way to help?"

Sharon bit her lips. "Oh, Ricky… I don't think there's any way to help, in this case." She blinked, a couple of tears spilling out. "I'm sorry honey, it's been a tough couple of days." She reached for the box of tissues on her desk. "I'm so, so grateful that you came all the way down here to see me."

He half-sighed, half-laughed. "It's not that far, Mom, I work in San Francisco. And I came 'all the way down here' to help," he reiterated. "If you'd only tell me what's going on. I can occasionally be useful, you know."

She smiled at him with unending affection. "Thank you for wanting to fix this for me."

It sounded a lot like what she'd say to him when he was twelve, and Ricky sighed at the obvious lack of confidence in his – admittedly, somewhat newfound – adult abilities. "Let's just see how it goes..."

A commotion erupted outside the squad room before either of them could say anything else, and as she heard the angry shouts and saw her team rushing out in alarm, Sharon automatically jumped from her seat. "Stay here," she told him firmly, and, making sure she had her gun, hurried toward the corridor and the source of the agitation.

It took the two Robbery-Homicide detectives and Sanchez to subdue small-time crook and recent parolee Buddy Hall, and not before his thrashing tipped over a couple of framed rosters, dented a water fountain and broke a small bench.

"–sue you for police brutality! Hooligans!" Even when he was immobilized, face against the wall, the man continued to shout. "I didn't do anything! This is a blatant contravention of my civil rights! I'm innocent!"

"Lieutenant." Again, Sharon felt herself gasping for breath, and she tried to mask it by taking a second to make sure the safety was back on her gun. "What's happening?"

Flynn's concerned look told her she wasn't fooling him, but he didn't comment. "Buddy here didn't take kindly to being brought in for questioning." Flynn gave the ex-con a disgusted glare, as the three detectives carted him off in handcuffs to one of the interview rooms. "He flipped out when Det. Malone mentioned the carjackings."

Sharon couldn't believe her ears. "He mentioned the carjackings before the actual interview?" Flynn returned a long-suffering look, as if to say, 'I know, right?', and she took a deep breath. "And why did that man, who isn't even a suspect yet, look like his nose was broken?" Her heart was still pounding loudly in her ears.

"That might've happened when he went ballistic just now," the Lieutenant admitted. "It wasn't us, though." He sighed. "I'll call for a medic to take a look at him... Captain," he suggested in a lower tone, "everything's under control here, why don't you… take the afternoon off, talk to – "

She wanted to be irritated, but didn't have the energy for it. "Lieutenant, a man with a broken nose is threatening to sue us for police brutality, and our collaborating detectives tipped our hand before even starting the interview."

"So you'll be glad to know we'll be handling Buddy ourselves from now on, interview and all." Provenza walked up to the two of them, his expression still showing faint traces of exasperation. "We'll make sure to charm him into not suing us."

Sharon's eyes narrowed. "Lieutenant–"

"Don't worry," he acknowledged. "His nose isn't broken… and I'll make a personal apology on behalf of that overeager idiot Malone."

The promise of Provenza trying to charm an indignant suspect into anything wasn't entirely reassuring, but when the Lieutenant added: "Besides, don't you have something more important to take care of?" and motioned with his head at something behind her, Sharon's thoughts abruptly changed focus.

"I told you to wait in my office."

Her son cleared his throat and shrugged, only half-repentant. "Sorry...?"

And Sharon couldn't even think about being mad, because the sight of that expression he always tried to use to get out of trouble just made her heart warm up all over again. She let out a shaky sigh.

With the experience of his nearly twenty-five years of capitalizing on her moments of weakness to get his way, Ricky saw his chance: "You know, Mom…" He grimaced. "It was a six-hour drive down here and I didn't really have breakfast… any chance you're free to go eat something?"

Her eyes softened immediately, but she still cast a hesitant glance in the direction of the interview room that held their cantankerous person of interest. When her eyes met Flynn and Provenza's, however, with an almost-questioning glance…

"Please." "Go on, we've got this!"

…and Sharon nodded in silent gratitude. "I'll get my purse, honey."

As soon as she was out of earshot, Provenza gave Ricky an approving nod. "Good, kid."

The young man adjusted his jacket a little uncomfortably then, with a worried glance after his mother, decided there was nothing to lose by asking: "What exactly is going on here?"

The two lieutenants exchanged a grim look.

Ricky was reminded how rare it was to have two victories in a row over his mom when he tried to get her to take the rest of the day off. She certainly looked like she could use it, but no amount of clever coaxing had gotten her to let him drive her home – instead she'd sort of half-agreed, asking to drop by the station again to take care of a few more things before they could go home.

So he'd dropped her off in the front of the building and circled around for a few minutes to find a good parking spot. When he finally did and made his way back and signed in again, he got a rough welcome in the form of a body slamming heavily into his right by the elevators, a flurry of papers drifting down in the aftermath.

"Excuse me!" An angry female voice came from somewhere below, and he shook off the surprise to see a young very attractive woman (if one ignored the irate scowl) half-kneeling on the tile floor. "Are you blind? Or do you just voluntarily not look where you're going!"

His eyebrows flew up. She looked really stressed. "…sorry?" Considering he'd been standing still and she'd barreled into him, the apology didn't seem entirely warranted, but he didn't mind. He even kneeled down to help gather her scattered papers. "Here."

"These are confidential court documents," she snapped, yanking the small stack he'd held out.

He arched his eyebrows again. "Sorry…?" He wondered, if he held out his hand to help her back to her feet, whether she'd bite it off. Finally with a quick glance at her heels he decided she'd probably need the help, and cautiously reached his hand.

She took it with an annoyed grumble and pulled herself up so abruptly it nearly sent him to the floor. "Okay…"

"Next time, look where you're going," she huffed.

Ricky bit his lips. "Right."

She gave him a sideways glance as the elevator doors began to open. When they both stepped in, her shoulders slumped. "Okay, sorry," the woman sighed in a more normal tone. "It's just been a really long day. You have no idea."

He tilted his head in sympathy. "Here's hoping it gets better," he smiled. She really did look a lot prettier without the Medusa death stare.

"I doubt it... What floor?"

"Uh." With a frown, he realized he'd completely forgotten the floor number. He shrugged, and tried to remember the name of his Mom's division. "…uhm…the… investigation…" then he caught himself, "wait, no…serious crimes? Major Crimes!" He nodded, proud at himself, and was slightly surprised to see her grimace.

"Ugh. Run in the opposite direction," she groaned.

"What?"

The woman shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind." She pressed the correct button. "Ignore me."

Ricky gave her a funny look, but immediately segued into a smooth grin. "That would be very hard to do."

She returned a dry sideways glance. "Nice try. I don't flirt with police."

"How lucky that I'm not police, then."

She measured him, huffed again, disbelieving, amused. "You're too young to be a lawyer."

He affected an intrigued mien. "Only lawyers and police allowed in this building, then?"

"Oh no, that's right!" her face lit up with sudden understanding, and her eyes narrowed at him as she concluded: "You must be a criminal, then."

Ricky laughed, and was rewarded with a knowing smirk.

The elevator doors opened to reveal the slightly-familiar-looking corridor. He figured out the right direction to go in, and was pleased to see her pick the same.

"What do you know, we're going the same way – your day must already be getting better."

Another sideways glance. "Don't push your luck, little boy," she snickered, although he was somewhat disappointed to see her amusement fading quickly the closer they got to the squad room.

"So, since we've established that I'm a criminal – what are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep the light repartee.

"My job," the woman grumbled, with an eye roll undirected at him, "because at least someone has to, around here."

His eyebrows arched, but before he could say anything else, they reached the squad room and she continued past, further down the corridor, with only the briefest 'good luck' over her shoulder, and Ricky was left feeling slightly confused.

Despite Ricky's insistences and her own desire to go home, Sharon felt obligated to at least check back with the team, given the way she'd left things. Fortunately, returning after a very long lunch she found that the situation with 'Buddy' was under control. Reassured that he was not being charged with anything and happy with the apologies he was getting, the man had agreed to not press charges, and indeed had provided them with unexpectedly useful information when he'd admitted that he'd tossed his gun over a fence into someone's back yard, six years previous. He'd even agreed to drive by in an unmarked car to see if he could recall the exact spot, and so at the moment Sanchez and Provenza were driving him around the neighborhood where he'd once attempted to rob a convenience store.

Ricky was content to wait at an unoccupied desk, an eye on his work email and the other on his mom as she wrapped up whatever business she felt she needed to attend to. Concern creased his brow as he followed her with a discreet glance: he'd never seen her look this tired and worn, ever. It was sobering, and on the heels of his grandfather's death, well… it was definitely making him think bad thoughts. Now grown up, he and Katie joked around about how their mom thought she was Wonder Woman, but really they didn't think she was that far off. It was tough to break an entire childhood's worth of conviction that she was always right, always there, always ready, always able to change things when she wanted and make things better when they needed it.

But to get an abrupt reminder that parents, too, are human and fragile, was even tougher.

Even now she was refusing to tell him what was wrong. But it was clearly more than grief over her father's death… she looked exhausted, jittery, hassled. That morning, he'd considered calling her to let her know he was coming, but Katie had told him to surprise her and now he knew why – if she'd had any time to prepare, his mom would've probably tried to put up her composed front, convinced him everything was fine.

Katie really had gotten all the smart genes.

As if by telepathy, his phone buzzed with a text message from his sister.

? ? What's going on w Mom

Sadly, he still didn't have a clear answer. He was piecing it together, but it made so little sense that Ricky was still convinced that he was missing some pretty important chunks of the puzzle.

Working on it

It felt weird, trying to take care of Mom this way. Not that they didn't always worry about her, especially with her job and her living alone in a different city... But usually it was an abstract kind of worry, the kind that made them pick up the phone and check in just to hear her laugh and joke and know that everything was going fine. It was a worry about what might happen, or how she might feel, a distant sort of responsibility that they knew wouldn't become pressing for a very long time yet.

This, this was present and concrete and urgent, and it was the first time that he and his sister felt they had a real chance to do something for their mom. Something that wasn't just a visit or a nice present or a fun birthday surprise. Something that she needed. Something serious. Like all the things she'd done for them all their lives.

Except he didn't even know where to start.

Rusty was surprised when he walked into the squad room and Sharon turned her head and greeted him with a smile that, for the first time in days, didn't seem so effortful. She looked… well not happy, not with the dark circles under her eyes and the worry lines and the still-too-pale complexion, but she looked… better. A little. And he was surprised again just a second later, when a weight seemed to lighten in his stomach, a weight he hadn't even fully realized was there.

He returned a quick smile of his own, and signaled toward the conference room, to let her know where he'd be, and she nodded in silent agreement.

It was about twenty minutes later that she came to him, and he was glad to confirm that she still had a slightly lighter air about her, as if the leaden sadness that had enveloped her for the past two days had lifted, just a little.

"How was school?"

"Uh – good!" And it really did seem that way, now. "How… how are you?"

She replied with a small smile. "I'm okay, honey."

He glanced at the crowded murder room. "Looks like a busy day."

"Chief Taylor formed a temporary joint task force for our latest case," she confirmed, "so there are a few extra detectives around." She pulled a chair and sat down next to him. "Rusty, listen…"

Sharon paused for a second, but her expression was serene, pleased, so Rusty didn't feel too worried because this was the face she got when she had good news, so he leaned forward unconsciously to hear what she had to say, because maybe something good had happened finally, and maybe things were looking up…

"My– "

The door to the conference room flew open and a sandy-haired young man poked his head in. "Mom, do you mind if I make a quick run to – oh." He looked startled to see Rusty. "Sorry! I didn't realize you were with someone, never… mind…" he trailed off as his eyes took in the boy, and his mind processed exactly who it was.

Rusty, meanwhile, hadn't processed past the first word out of the stranger's mouth.

Mom!

He froze, unable to hide his shocked look.

Whatever this was, it somehow didn't feel like good news.

A/N: Another chapter slightly on the long side, but all of you seemed happy with that last time, so hopefully it's okay. Next chapter should be up fairly soon, and we'll get to see more Rusty and Ricky discussion and reactions, and maybe even another encounter between Ricky and Emma - I'm not 100% decided on including that scene yet. (so feel free to make your opinion known!)

Thanks so much for reading this story. You know I feel about your feedback pretty much the same way Sharon feels about her evening glass of wine ;)!