A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews. I wasn't sure how people would react to a fic that deals with Rusty, even though it is told from Sharon's POV. I'm glad to know people are intrigued about this. As I said in a post I made on Tumblr; this story will be darker than the show was, and will deal with subjects that the show touched on but didn't always explore in depth. So the trigger warning from chapter 1 applies to all the future chapters.
Additionally, the show always told us how progressive Sharon was, but it rarely showed it to us (especially in season 6 when she has become a pious Catholic), so my story will explore the progressive Sharon we heard about, and show rather than tell about it. I hope I do this successfully.
Once again I would like to thank blossom-of-snow for her insightful beta reading. She is insanely great at this and her notes on my chapters are very thought-provoking.
Sharon set a plate in front of the bleary-eyed redhead girl, whose stringy hair looked like it needed a good wash, and maybe a trim and went back to the kitchen to bring the plate of bacon and waffles. She didn't normally eat bacon, waffles or kept any sweets, but after thinking about what Rusty had said about her previous foster parents locking her in her room and limiting her access to food by locking the fridge, she felt the need to prove to her that this time would be different and that she will receive a fair and kind treatment. Sharon thought it would be pleasant to start her first day with her with a fun breakfast. However, Rusty was unimpressed, and she seemed to be exhausted, even though Sharon had let her sleep in a little bit. She did have to go to work and Rusty would have to come with her.
"You know, you have an interesting name," Sharon said, trying to get the girl to engage in conversation. Rusty shrugged. "It's an unusual name for a girl."
"It's a nickname," Rusty said and played with the food in her plate as if the conversation with Sharon was boring her.
"How did you get it?"
"One of my Mom's boyfriends gave it to me when I was little. He said I should avoid getting wet because my hair gets rustier every time. My mother thought it was hilarious, and she didn't even care all that much that I didn't shower for a few months." The girl's tone was impassive, almost as if she tried to put distance between herself and the incident.
Sharon had not expected such a cruel explanation for the nickname. Her stomach twitched painfully. What kind of horrible person enjoyed tormenting a child this way?
"And what about your birth name?" She tried changing the subject.
"Nobody has called me Rainie in years," the girl admitted. "My mom said it was raining the day I was born."
"I like this name. It's beautiful," Sharon smiled as she took a sip of her coffee. "Would you prefer it if I called you Rainie instead of Rusty?"
"Whatever," Rusty said. "It's not like I have any control over my life anymore, so what do I care what you call me?" She pushed herself up and left the breakfast table. Sharon heard the guest room door slamming and shook her head. She didn't realize until now that Rusty's name could have been a sensitive subject for her. It was evident that even a simple thing like her name triggered some unpleasant memories. Sharon felt her heart thumping rapidly inside her chest, almost bursting out of ribcage with anger. She was angry at herself for being insensitive and at the people who treated this girl as if she was an unwanted creature. After taking a few deep breaths and calming herself down, Sharon left the table and walked down the hall. She knocked on Rusty's door, and when no response came, she pushed it open and went in. Her eyes widened when she saw Rusty holding a black sharpie and writing swearwords on the wall above the bed.
"I see you decided to redecorate," Sharon said. Getting angry wouldn't lead to anything good. She didn't want to fight with the girl, although she didn't encourage the girl's vandalistic tendencies. Rusty put three exclamation marks at the end of a 4 inch long 'Fuck You'. "We have to leave in a few minutes, so I suggest you finish your artwork and get dressed," she said and went out of the room. She heard a raging scream coming from the room and something getting thrown against the wall, and a few minutes later Rusty emerged from the room, wearing a pair of jeans shorts and a tank top that didn't leave much for the imagination. Her eyes were framed with thick black eyeliner, and her lips were painted blood red. Sharon didn't remember ever telling her daughter she couldn't wear revealing clothes, but considering Rusty's past, she decided that whether Rusty liked it or not, they will go over her clothes in the evening and get rid of skimpy short shorts and shirts with inappropriately low necklines. "I recommend you wear something warmer. The air conditioning at the PAB can be freezing," she hoped that if it sounded like a suggestion, Rusty would not argue about it.
"I don't care," she retorted.
"Well, I do," Sharon said.
"Why don't you just say what you really think?" Rusty put her hands on her hips, ready for a fight. "You don't want me to dress like that because you're scared all the men in your division will get a boner when they see me." Sharon was taken aback by Rusty's response. Did the girl really think anyone in the Major Crimes division would look at her that way? The thought of the sick people who would look at young girls like that disgusted Sharon.
"You're being inappropriate, Rusty," she said.
"I don't care," Rusty shrugged.
"We are not going to argue about this, young lady. If you don't have any other clothes, I'll be happy to lend you one of my dresses," Sharon's voice was stern.
"Yeah, right, because every woman in the world wants to look like a prude with a stick up her…" Sharon didn't hear the end of the sentence because she went into her bedroom and returned with a burgundy floral knee-length summer dress.
"Change into this, please," she said and handed the dress to Rusty. The girl opened her mouth to argue. "Now," Sharon demanded, and Rusty pushed her pants down and pulled her tank top over her head before Sharon could turn around. Sharon couldn't help but notice that Rusty's bra was at least two sizes too small and that one of the wires was sticking out of the material. It was hard to miss the wounded and bruised skin right under the hem of her bra that must have been caused by the wire. She made a mental note to take the girl to shop for underwear. "This looks very beautiful on you." Rusty went to the bathroom and gave herself a once over. Her eyes lighted up as she saw her reflection in the mirror and Sharon detected the trace of a smile when Rusty walked out of the bathroom. She motioned towards the end of the hall, and Rusty grabbed her backpack, and they left the condo.
Sharon stood outside the fitting room and waited for Rusty to come out. They had gone shopping after they left the PAB, and before Sharon could even offer the girl any clothes she thought would look nice on her, Rusty had grabbed a few items off the racks and marched to the fitting room, shutting the door in Sharon's face. She emerged out of the fitting room several minutes later wearing the first item, a neon green tight mini dress. She looked at herself in the mirror.
"Does this make my ass look big?" she asked Sharon.
"No, but you are not getting this dress," Sharon replied. "It's too short, and the color is hurting my eyes. Show me what other clothes you've taken in there." Rusty went into the fitting room, grabbed the clothes off the hangers and handed them to Sharon. She tried not to frown as she examined a sparkly tank top that had an open back and low neckline. The next item was a pair of tight shorts that looked more like underwear. The following cloth was a crop top that would probably not even fully cover Rusty's bust, and the last item was a see-through shirt. "No, to all of them," Sharon said sternly.
"You have no style," Rusty pouted. Sharon let the comment roll off her back. Rusty must have been tired if she didn't make a huge fuss of Sharon's refusal to buy these clothes.
"I think pastels would look very nice on you," Sharon led her to a rack that had shirts in different pastel colors. "I think pink, yellow and green would complement you," she suggested and held the three colors against Rusty's body. "Look how beautiful," she pointed towards the mirror behind them. "And you can pair them with a nice skirt or a pair of jeans." Sharon looked through another rack and pulled out a pair of white jeans. She handed them to Rusty. "Try these on. I think they're your size." She waited outside the fitting room until Rusty came out wearing the white jeans and one of the pastel shirts. "What do you think?" she asked the girl who looked at herself, almost shocked at her reflection.
"I like it," she replied.
"Are the sizes right?" Sharon wondered.
"Yeah, it doesn't feel too tight or anything," Rusty said.
"Good, we'll take them," Sharon smiled. Rusty went back into the fitting room and changed back to her clothes, and they kept looking through the store. Sharon ended up buying her three pairs of jeans, seven shirts, two dresses, a necklace, a hair bow, several pairs of socks, and two pairs of snickers in baby pink and black. As they went out of the store, Rusty turned to go towards the mall parking lot. "Hold on, we're heading that way," Sharon said and directed her towards a lingerie shop. Rusty looked at her with confusion. "Your bra is falling apart; we're getting you a new one." They walked into the store, and a salesgirl who wasn't much older than Rusty greeted them with a smile. Rusty walked between the shelves looking upset and intrigued at the same time. Sharon decided to give the girl her space to make her own choice which would hopefully be tasteful. The salesgirl walked over to her and started suggesting a few different options to her. Rusty's eyes widened with each bra the salesgirl showed them, and Sharon noticed that she was becoming increasingly confused. She walked towards the girl. "What's the matter?" she asked gently.
"Nothing," Rusty replied. "I just didn't know there are so many choices."
"Do you know your size?" When Rusty shook her head, the salesgirl grabbed a measuring tape and wrapped it around Rusty's chest. The color ran out of Rusty's face almost immediately, and a terrified expression took over her features.
"She can measure herself," Sharon said to the salesgirl, sternly enough to make it sound like an order and softly enough to not sound rude. The girl handed the tape to Rusty and instructed her how to measure her chest. Then she went to bring a few options for her. "Are you okay?" Sharon asked. Rusty looked unsettled, and Sharon wasn't sure why.
"Why do I need this?" she groaned.
"Would you prefer going without a bra?" Sharon asked.
"You're mocking me, right?" Rusty seemed confused.
"No, I'm serious. You don't have to wear a bra if you don't want to," Sharon clarified. Rusty huffed. "Okay, Rusty, you will have to explain to me why you are so upset about this because I don't understand."
"I'm not a charity case," Rusty spit out.
"No, you are not," Sharon agreed.
"So I don't need you to try giving me a makeover and buy me all those things. I am fine the way I am," Rusty called out.
"It's not like that at all," Sharon sighed. She wished Rusty had a better understanding of her new situation.
"It is like that. You want to change me and pretend that I'm a different person than who I am!" Rusty raised her voice.
"I'm not trying to change you, Rusty. I'm simply buying you things that you need," Sharon tried to explain. Rusty suspired and Sharon could see the words were not getting through to her. "Alright, I think we will have to do this another day," she sighed and motioned towards the exit from the store. Rusty followed her, sulking more and more with every step she took.
The girl remained in a combative mood on the drive home, and as soon as they walked through the condo door, Rusty made a beeline to the bedroom and slammed the door. Sharon shook her head. She had forgotten what it was like to deal with moody teens, and Rusty was moodier than Emily and Ricky had been. She knew it was partly due to what she has been through. She probably needed to toughen up when she found herself in the street. It didn't mean Sharon was not frustrated by it. The girl's behavior was unpredictable, although she has generally been swaying between sullen and insolent since the moment Sharon has taken her in. The attempts to draw a genuine positive reaction out of the girl began to exhaust Sharon, and she wasn't sure how long it would be before she lost control of her tongue and blurted something that would only damage the relationship rather than improve it. She walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of white wine when she heard steps coming down the hall.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. Rusty looked calm now.
"A little," Rusty replied.
"I thought we could order. Does pizza sound good to you?" Sharon inquired. The girl nodded. "What do you like on your pizza?"
"Mushrooms, and green peppers," Rusty said.
"Funny, these are my favorite toppings as well," Sharon smiled as she spoke. It wasn't the entire truth, but she felt that this little white lie might help her create a better connection with Rusty. The girl simply shrugged. Sharon took her phone out of her pocket, dialed her favorite pizza restaurant and placed her order. "Do you want me to help you put your new clothes in your closet?" she offered and motioned towards the shopping bags that Rusty had thrown under the hall table when they came in. Rusty let out a frustrated sigh but picked up the bags and walked down the hall, with Sharon on her heels. The girl watched Sharon as she showed her how to fold the new clothes and put them away. After they were done, Sharon pointed at Rusty's backpack. The girl picked it up and put it on the bed. "We're going to sort through the rest of your clothes," Sharon announced and let Rusty open the backpack. Very quickly it became obvious that most of Rusty's clothes were inappropriate and she made it clear that those clothes were not going to stay. "This one goes into the 'throw away' pile," she announced after throwing a look at a black old, ragged T-shirt that had holes in several places and smelled like it hasn't been washed in the last decade.
"No!" Rusty called out and snatched the T-shirt from Sharon's hands. She wrapped her arms around the shirt and looked terrified with the thought of parting with it.
"It's smelly, and it's falling apart, Rusty. You can't wear this," Sharon stated.
"It's my PJ, and it's not revealing. Those are the rules you made up. You said that you would let me keep clothes that are either nightwear or not revealing and it's neither, so you can't take that away," Rusty argued. The desperation in her eyes told Sharon that there must have been a reason why the girl wanted to keep the crumbling T-shirt.
"Okay, but you have to let me wash it," Sharon agreed.
"You promise you won't throw it away? I can't fall asleep without it," the girl asked.
"You'll get it back tomorrow after it dries," Sharon promised.
"Tonight, you'll wash and dry it tonight," Rusty insisted, her eyes pleading.
"I'll try, but I can't promise anything," Sharon replied, and Rusty reluctantly handed her the shirt. The fabric was thin in some spots, and she wasn't sure it would survive the laundry machine and dryer. She decided that hand washing it would be the best way to clean the garment. "Show me what else you have there," she said.
"Underwear," Rusty said and pulled what looked like a bunch of strings out of her backpack, placing them on the bed. "Men like these," she shrugged apologetically when she untangled the G-string thongs from one another.
"I don't care what underwear you like to wear," Sharon replied. She wished that the girl didn't have to wear the kind of clothes that would make her appealing to men who have taken leave of their morals. "If thongs are comfortable for you, I'm perfectly fine with that." An astounded expression spread across Rusty's face. "Do they need to be washed?" Sharon asked.
"No, I washed them before I ran away from my last foster home," Rusty replied.
"Good, fold them and put them in your closet," Sharon said. "Is there anything else in your bag?" Rusty shook her head.
"You know, Rusty, we will have to buy you a new bra," Sharon said and took a seat on the bed. "The old one is too small, and it's hurting you." The girl shook her head. "Can I ask why you don't want to do it?"
"It's none of your business," the girl replied and took a seat next to Sharon.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, and you don't have to get a new bra either, but you can't keep wearing this one."
"I can't walk around without a bra!" Rusty looked scandalized.
"The choice is up to you, either we go buy a new one, or you go without one," Sharon said.
"That's not fair!" Rusty called out.
"Life's not fair," Sharon replied.
"I don't like it when people touch my boobs, okay?" Rusty's eyes shone with unshed tears. Sharon's stomach twitched painfully. She was not blind to the fact that until not long ago, this girl was turning tricks and even touching her arm could trigger unprocessed trauma. That someone had taken the liberty to touch her breasts, even if they innocently wanted to help her measure herself, was bound to bring up all the suppressed emotions Rusty had been avoiding for a long time.
"The girl at the store should have asked for permission to touch you, Rusty. I'm sorry you had to experience that," Sharon spoke softly. "If you agree to go to the lingerie shop again, I promise I won't let anyone touch you."
"Can we go to a different store?" Rusty asked, and Sharon nodded.
"I'm off duty tomorrow, we could go in the morning," she offered. "How's that?"
"It's fine," Rusty said. Sharon offered her a satisfied smile.
"I'll go wash your shirt," she took the garment as she got up and walked towards the bathroom. She placed the shirt in the sink and turned the hot water tap. She filled the sink halfway and let the water soak into the fabric of the shirt while she went to get the washing powder from the service room. The water was a light shade of brown when Sharon returned to the bathroom. She had no idea how long it has been since Rusty washed the shirt, but evidently, it has been a while. She changed the water, poured a spoonful of washing powder on top of the shirt and began scrubbing the material. Once again, the water became dark, and after emptying the sink, she washed it under the tap before she refilled it again and added the powder, scrubbing the shirt as gently as she could to avoid making the fabric crumble in her hands. It took well over fifteen minutes, and countless washes before the shirt was finally clean, and Sharon squeezed the water out. She didn't have laundry ropes in her condo, and therefore she placed the shirt on a hanger and took it to the balcony. She slipped the hanger into a loop of a decorative hook that she normally used to hang planters. The warm summer wind made the shirt sway from side to side, but it appeared to be secure. The doorbell rang, and Sharon walked to the door. She opened it and paid the delivery guy who handed her the pizza tray. The smell of melted cheese made her mouth water as she walked back to the kitchen and placed the tray on the counter.
"Rusty, the pizza is here," she called out and heard the girl's rapid steps as she walked down the hall. "Help me set the table please," Sharon handed her two placemats. Rusty looked at her with confusion.
"What are these?" she asked.
"Placemats, to avoid crumbs on the table," Rusty rolled her eyes but walked to the dining table and put the placements down. "Now glasses, please," Sharon motioned towards a cupboard behind her as she opened one of the kitchen drawers and took napkins out. Then she bent down and took plates out of another cabinet and carried them along with the napkins to the table. She opened the fridge and took a bottle of water out and placed it on the table as well. Rusty carried the pizza tray to the table and opened it. She lifted one slice and brought it to her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure and tried to pull a string of cheese into her mouth. Sharon watched her and felt a tingling sensation spreading in her chest. At last, Rusty seemed satisfied with something. It felt like a small miracle has happened. Sharon smiled and took a bite of her pizza. Before she transferred to Major Crimes, she used to come home at the end of the workday and cook a healthy dinner for herself which she almost always consumed with a glass of wine. However, the new position was more than demanding than her job at FID and Rusty's presence only added to it. She wasn't sure when she'll have the time to cook from now on, and she hated the idea of ordering takeout every evening, but she assumed that until she and Rusty find a routine that worked for the both of them, there would be a lot of takeout dinners. From the corner of her eye, Sharon spotted the shirt swaying in the wind on its hanger.
"What's the story behind that shirt?" she motioned towards it.
"It's my Mom's. She's said she wore it when she was pregnant with me," Rusty spoke with her mouth full.
"This shirt is sixteen?" Sharon's eyes widened. The fact that the shirt survived that long was unbelievable. Rusty hummed as she took another bite of her pizza. Now Sharon understood the importance of the decaying garment. It was probably one of the only things that Rusty had from her home. It may not have been a good environment to grow up in, but it was a familiar place and had the people that she knew. Finding herself in the street and later moving between several foster homes must have been destabilizing for the girl. At that moment, the greatest wish in Sharon's heart was to give Rusty a home where she would feel safe, respected, wanted and loved.
"Do you think it will be dry soon?" she asked.
"I hope so," Sharon was almost sure it wouldn't dry until the morning, but she hoped that with the assistance of her trusted blow dryer, she'd be able to speed up the process.
A while later, as Rusty cleared their plates and washed them, Sharon headed to the balcony and checked if the shirt had dried and just as she expected it hadn't. She went to her bedroom and returned with her blow dryer. She plugged it in the balcony, set it on heat and turned it on and pointed it at the shirt. It took an hour and a half for her to complete the task, but finally, it had dried completely and was ready for Rusty to wear. The girl looked as if she was about to cry when Sharon handed it back to her. She hugged it to her chest and hurried to her room to change into it. Sharon went to her bedroom and began going through her nightly routine when she heard a knock on the door.
"Come in," she said, and Rusty opened the door and went into the room. "Is everything okay?"
"I just wanted to thank you for washing my shirt," the girl said. "And for the new clothes, too."
"I'm happy to help, Rusty," she said softly and turned back to the mirror to take the rest of her makeup off.
"Good Night, Captain," Rusty said. Sharon wished the girl good night and saw her leaving the room. A few minutes later she crawled into bed and shut the lights. As she laid in the dark, Sharon said a quick prayer for her children and Rusty to be safe and thanked God for ending her day positively before she let sleep claim her.
-TBC-
As always, I would love to know your thoughts about this chapter, so feel free to leave a review or send me a PM.