A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews on the last chapter. I said this before, but really the response that this story is getting is absolutely overwhelming, and so encouraging for my first foray into this wonderful fandom, and I'm very grateful :).

No Such Thing as a Perfect Family (8)

Sharon had been absently browsing through some of the case files on her desk, not really seeing the words, when there was a faint knock on the door. As Rusty walked in somewhat hesitantly, she almost cringed at the realization that she hadn't said two words to him ever since the earlier conversation. He looked uneasy now.

"Is everything okay?" The boy grimaced at the question, causing her another pang of worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, don't worry. Uh…" His stomach suddenly growled, and Sharon's brow creased regretfully.

"Oh Rusty, I'm sorry, I didn't realize how late it was getting…" Her eyes flickered to the clock. "As soon as Chief Taylor gives his statement to the press, we can head home… are you hungry now?"

"No. Yes." At her vaguely confused expression, he cleared his throat. "I mean, if you want to go get some food, that would be…okay with me. " He gave her a tentative look. "Are you hungry?"

She managed a small smile. "Not very. But Lt. Flynn can take you across the street –"

"That's okay," Rusty hurried to say, "I'm not that hungry anyway. Big lunch."

"It won't be long now," she promised. "We can pick something up on the way home."

He nodded, but didn't say anything else, yet he also didn't leave; instead he stood a little awkwardly halfway between the door and her desk, hands shoved in his pockets, giving her the same wary look. Sharon tilted her head slightly.

"What do you need?" she asked softly, and couldn't understand why he grimaced again. "Rusty, what's on your mind?" A dark suspicion suddenly crossed her mind. "Did DDA Rios say anything –"

"No! No, I didn't even see Emma today. Everything's fine, I swear." Her half-bemused, half-concerned expression made him groan. "Okay," he fidgeted some more and backpedalled a step, "I'm just gonna… go, now, okay? But uh, if you change your mind… and like, want to get some food, or, anything… I'll be… in the conference room. Doing homework. So just... let me know."

And with that, he quickly backed out of the office, closing the door extra carefully before marching straight to the break room, where he found it particularly satisfying to lightly bang his forehead once against a cabinet door while he waited for a hot chocolate.

"Tough day, kid."

The gruff voice made him jump, and he hit his head for real against the cabinet door handle. "Ow. What?" It took a second to process Provenza's words. "Oh. Er, yeah. I guess." He rubbed the side of his head, uncomfortable, while the older man looked on with a somewhat amused expression.

Suddenly, Rusty got an idea.

"Lieutenant Provenza, can I ask you something?" At the man's curious nod, he continued: "What do I … say… to Sharon? I don't–" he shook his head, shrugged, "I don't know what to tell her. This isn't exactly something they teach at school, you know? Or I guess they kind of do," he amended, "but I'm pretty sure 'god has a plan' is not what Sharon wants to hear right now, and other than that I've got nothing. Or like, less than nothing," he groaned, "I think I just made things worse in there..."

Provenza gave him an understanding look. "Tell her you're sorry."

The boy nodded attentively, but after a few seconds was surprised to see that the Lieutenant wasn't adding anything else. "And…?"

"And… that's it."

"What? But that's not enough!" Rusty was scandalized.

"Nothing's gonna be enough, kid," the older man said simply. "Not for this kind of thing. So just say sorry, and be nice. Don't yell." He raised his hands defensively when the boy looked about to protest. "You asked."

"Right." Somehow, that answer didn't feel particularly helpful.

Despite Chief Taylor's advice, Sharon had asked for a rundown of the case that Robbery-Homicide had forwarded them, and no one had dared argue. And truthfully, if they were all stuck there until after the press statement, they could understand wanting to at least do something useful. Still, even as they tried for an efficient briefing, they couldn't entirely help the extra note of sympathy in their glances, nor the somewhat overly cautious manner when they addressed her.

For her part, the Captain looked every bit as composed as she had earlier, if a note quieter and more weary-looking. Tiredness creased the corners of her eyes, her hands still shook every so slightly and she kept sneaking worried glances at the cell phone she held, as though expecting a call that was late in coming. Other than those small signs, however, she was giving them her full attention, leaning against Sykes' desk and watching patiently as Lt. Provenza and Det. Sanchez took photos and notes out of the case file and pinned them to the murder board.

"Crime number one: carjacking. Last Monday night, driver was pulled out at gunpoint, then knocked out by two men." Provenza pinned a photo from a traffic cam at the left end of a timeline he had just drawn. "Crime number two…" He pinned another, similar photo. "Thursday night, same thing. And then we have Thursday night, a little later on..." Another photo went up. "Driver badly beaten and left on the side of the road. Crime number four: Saturday night." This time he pulled two photos, and the one from the traffic cam went above the date. "Driver…" He pinned the second photo, clearly a morgue shot, underneath the first. "Beaten and shot."

The sight of the dead body left her more shaken than it normally would have, and Sharon shifted her position slightly to hide the shiver that had just run down her spine. Even so, images came unbidden to her mind, and she had to close her eyes to block out the unwelcome thoughts of what was waiting for her at her parents' home.

"They're escalating," she murmured past the knot in her throat. "Do we know these are all the same carjackers?"

There was a brief silence as the rest of the squad seemed to contemplate whether or not to go on, and it occurred to her that she wasn't doing that good a job hiding her reactions. She shifted again and nodded for them to continue, and finally Flynn spoke:

"Robbery-Homicide compared the descriptions of the first three victims this morning –"

"Only took 'em a week to see the link between four consecutive, violent armed carjackings," Provenza grumbled.

" –and the descriptions coincide," Flynn finished, "so right now we're assuming it's the same people behind all four."

"And we can assume there will be more carjackings if they keep the same pace." Her voice was stronger, but she couldn't keep the concern out of it.

Unsuspecting citizens being pulled from their cars at gunpoint and beaten, even killed… it was exactly the kind of thing that would incite panic. And panic spurred the media, and the last thing her division needed were two headlines-worthy cases in one week.

The crease between her eyebrows deepened. She thought she'd been right to ask for the case details, but now it was just one more thing to weigh on her mind…

"Press conference's about to start," Tao signaled from his desk, and they were all almost relived as they moved to gather around the small TV that Buzz had rolled into the room for the occasion. There was a brief news clip summarizing the course of the North case, and then Chief Taylor came on, wearing his press face and his best tie, reciting the speech that they had carefully crafted only a couple of hours before.

It was over in minutes, the statement having come across as clear and persuasive, and Taylor having successfully fielded even the trickier questions from the reporters. Moreover, he had done so, as promised, without mentioning Major Crimes by name. The scene had moved back to the studio and the news anchor was offering the last few vague opinions on the dead serial killer who would probably be out of the audience's mind by the time the weather report rolled around.

Sharon pressed two fingers between her eyebrows in an attempt to stave off the coming headache. It was over. The day had unofficially come to an end, and she had nothing left to do but drive home and… think. Think of how to cope. Think of what to do with Rusty. How to deal with Rios. Think of what to tell her children and how to be there for her mother and a way to get everyone through the week.

Her eyes landed on the newly drawn timeline and its traffic cam pictures, and the sinister picture of the murdered driver, the sight of which again made her blood run cold. Another thing to think about.

She unwillingly paused in her tracks. "What do the stolen cars have in common?"

Again that hesitant silence, and she could see Flynn and Provenza exchange one of their glances – but she held up a finger to acknowledge their concern and indicated that she only had a few questions left, and they resigned themselves to her wishes.

"None of them were older than three years," Det. Sanchez finally replied, "and they were all in pretty good condition, but other than that…" He shrugged. "We have three Sedans and one SUV, different brands, different colors, one's manual… different dealers, one is registered out of state… no connection that we can see. It looks like they're just picking the cars at random."

She grimaced. Random wasn't good. It only made cases harder, and the chance for panic higher.

"We're looking into the owners, see if they're connected in some way. Also increased patrols along the roads most likely to be targeted. Checking around known chop shops and into anyone involved in grand theft who may have recently been released from prison." Flynn gave her a serious look. "We've got this, Captain. Don't worry."

And that was his way of saying that they were ready to take over for her, and she knew that letting go was the right thing to do. With a sigh, she nodded in acknowledgment, and surveyed all of them with a grateful look. "Thank you." And she turned and headed toward her office, feeling drained, cold and ready for the day to end… even though she knew that going home wouldn't really help, because the very same crises would still be waiting for her when she walked through her front door.

In her office, she took the time to make yet another phone call to her daughter, and once again there was no answer. Not unusual, since Katie worked during the day and had the habit of leaving her phone abandoned in whatever corner, or maybe in silent mode at the bottom of her purse. Still, Sharon so badly wanted her to pick up… and at the same time dreaded the moment she would.

She mechanically tidied up the files and assorted notes on her desk, a feeble last attempt to leave at least something in order before she took the week off. She hated to leave mid-case, and she absolutely dreaded to leave Rusty behind, not only because of the ever-present threats but also because no matter how much she thought about it, there was no telling what Emma Rios would do in her absence.

This is not what you want to be worrying about right now… Chief Taylor's words rang strangely ironic in her memory. Of course that wasn't what she wanted to be worrying about. Now or later. She was terrified of coming back to find that Rusty had been forcefully relocated. It wouldn't be done gently, either, because he would not cooperate. He could run away, right into the path of whatever madman sent those letters, or back on the streets, or somewhere worse and who knew…

Sharon lowered her face in her hands for a moment, and with a deep calming breath, had to remind herself that none of those scenarios had actually happened. Her heart was racing, her anxiety having gotten away from her at the mere thought of what could be in store. But no. A solution was out there. All she needed was a little quiet time to think about it.

It was an odd, possibly misguided sort of confidence, but after the fight in Chief Taylor's office she had walked out and sworn to herself that Emma Rios would not get her way with Rusty, not while Sharon had anything to say about it – and the woman's precious case be damned. If she couldn't figure out a way to win it without devastating the boy's life, then she didn't deserve to win it at all.

It wasn't until she noticed that she'd been scowling and gripping one of her files, its corners now crumpled and ragged in her palm, that Sharon once again realized just how much her emotions were getting the better of her. Her heart was racing again, and she felt feverish, her eyes too hot behind her eyelids, her throat too dry.

It really was time to go home.

She stood up a little shakily and straightened one last pile of files on the desk. In the squad room, the rest of her team were still discussing the case. A glance into the conference room revealed Rusty's backpack, but not the boy himself. Checking the clock, Sharon grimaced; it was now almost seven, and she'd promised dinner. He was probably in the break room getting a snack.

She went to look for him and was halfway down the corridor when she heard his voice.

"What?!"

The distressed question made her pick up her pace abruptly, and she found herself in the break room without even fully processing how she'd gotten there. Blood rose to her face at the sight of the boy and the DDA facing each other across the lunch table.

Rusty turned to her with a panicked expression when she entered. "Sharon –" But then he paused, opened his mouth as though to say something else and changed his mind, looking down and crossing his arms silently instead.

Anger flashed through her, and it must have shown on her face because Emma took a step back and had the grace to look chagrined. "Look, I was just–"

"DDA Rios," Sharon cut her off in an irate growl, then with a monumental effort reined in her outrage. "I don't know what you're still doing here, but it's very late, and you cannot possibly have anything pressing to discuss with Rusty at this hour."

The woman pinched the bridge of her nose, and held up the thin folder she was holding. "I only suggested –"

"I can imagine." Sharon's eyes narrowed. "If you have anything further to communicate, I'd appreciate it if you did it in my presence."

The younger woman rolled her eyes. "Fine – good, because I actually came back to talk –"

"Later."

Emma looked even more exasperated, but for whatever reason she didn't press the issue, settling instead for a prolonged sigh. She held her hands up in resignation. "Okay, fine. As you wish." And she backed out of the break room, the rapid click of her heels echoing down the corridor.

It took a moment to get her expression back under control, but when she did Sharon turned back to face Rusty. He was still standing in the same spot, silent, fixing her with a wide-eyed gaze, and she had no idea what DDA Rios had gotten to tell him, but the fact that the woman had tried to go behind her back to suggest anything to Rusty was enough to spark her anger anew.

With a sigh, she tried to find something innocuous to say. "Did you finish your homework for tomorrow?"

"No."

For some reason the frank reply almost made her laugh. It was fair enough, really. She nodded to the door. "Why don't you get your things, and we'll head home and stop to pick up some food on the way. I'm sorry it took so long."

"It's fine," he murmured, and quietly preceded her out the door and back toward the squad room.

It shouldn't have surprised her really, but it did. Two minutes after she'd returned to her office to get her things, there was a light knock on her open door, and Sharon turned around to find Chief Taylor wearing a grim expression. She distantly noticed that he still hadn't changed his press-conference tie.

"Chief…" Her breath caught when she noticed the woman behind him, and she couldn't stop herself from taking a step back. "DDA Rios."

The two stepped into the office and Sharon had the distinct feeling of being ambushed. Her heart started pounding loudly in her ears.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, Captain," Emma started, not sounding all that sorry at all. "But like I tried to say earlier, I actually came back to talk to you. It'll just be a minute, I was hoping to catch you before you left for the night..."

An almost desperate gaze to the squad room showed everyone with their eyes glued to the scene. But Sharon knew that they couldn't do anything for her right now. Then she noticed the stack of papers in Emma's hand, and her apprehension melted into anger again.

"Are you serious? We agreed I had until tomorrow." Her accusing gaze turned to Taylor, who looked away uncomfortably.

"It's almost seven o'clock, and there's just no reason to wait any extra time – especially if you have to leave tomorrow," DDA Rios argued. "I don't want this to be what you're worried about." She held up the papers. "If you can just sign these forms, giving your approval as temporary guardian for Rusty to be placed with the Broades for the next week…"

"I am not. Signing. Anything."

Taylor sighed. "Captain Raydor –"

"With all due respect, Chief, I am still working on a compromise."

"Fine," Emma acknowledged patiently, "and if we find another solution by tomorrow, then I just won't file these. It's too late to do it tonight anyway but this way, if we can't find another option," she defended, "it will all be taken care of and you can focus on more important problems."

Sharon stared at her in dazed silence. More important problems. Every problem she had right now was important – though not to DDA Rios, obviously. Her gaze unwillingly flickered to Rusty, who was standing with the rest of the squad in the main room, the same look of wariness on his face that hadn't faded in three days. Her lips pressed together ever so slightly.

She did not like being ambushed, and she did not like backed into corners.

Oblivious to the Captain's reactions, Emma took another step, set the papers on the desk and slid them over. "If you read the terms, you'll see it's all temporary," she assured, "nothing in here about permanently resettling the minor…so please, just consider it, please."

That same second, Sharon's phone went off. Silently she glanced at the screen, still reeling from the shock of what was happening.

"Here." DDA Rios pulled out a pen. "This it all pre-approved. All it takes is your signature, mine and the DCFS stamp which is already on it." She gave Sharon her most honest look. "Please don't think I'm doing this to force your hand, it's just the best way for everyone involved, and the way to get this whole mess sorted out…" She grabbed the pen and began to sign. "It's –"

Sharon gently covered Emma's writing hand with hers. "That won't be necessary."

The phone was still vibrating on the table.

"Captain – "

"Rusty is staying with me." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Emma groaned. "He has to stay somewhere while you're gone, and getting familiarized with the Broades is –"

"That won't be necessary," Sharon repeated in the same tone, still looking somewhat dazed.

"Okay, yes it will be necessary," Rios argued, at the end of her patience, "because we can't just leave him unsupervised while you're halfway across the country!"

And Sharon lifted her chin, met the younger woman's eyes with the same almost otherworldly calm, and said in a low but firm voice: "I'm not going anywhere." Then she reached for the purse on her chair, took the now-silent phone and dropped it inside . "Excuse me."

With that, she turned and walked out of her own office, leaving the two of them stupefied. She made her way across the murder room as fast as she could, shaking her head curtly when Flynn tried to take a step toward her, and when she passed Rusty waiting near the door, she held out a hand, breathed, "Let's go," and ushered the boy out in front of her without so much as a look back.

A/N: Some time within the next chapter or two, we might be getting an Emma POV, because I really am not trying to paint her as the most villainous villain of all... this situation just got away from her because she didn't realize when (and whom) to stop pushing.

Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story! Next chapter we'll get the first glimpse of *one* of Sharon's kids. As always your feedback is much loved and appreciated... and also ONE MORE WEEK OMG.

Ahem.