A/N: Thanks so much for all your reviews! Sorry about the week-long break, I was away and internet-less for most of it. But, back to regular updating times now! I'd say this story has about another three or so chapters left - although as you know, it has occasionally grown out of the blue, so that's a rough estimate. But we're definitely on the last stretch here.

Also... THE SHOW IS BACK OMG GUYS! I am still processing all the feelings from last week's episode (! ! !), and now there's a new episode tonight and I'm just not sure my heart can take it all. And the flood of *amazing* episode tags being shared on this site post-episode-12 is just making it all the more thrilling and wonderful.

Alright enough ranting, back to the story. This chapter comes with a warning, as it contains a pretty sad and slightly graphic scene, so please be aware in advance.

No Such Thing as a Perfect Family

Rusty hadn't meant to leave the room at all, but when he'd seen Sharon walking up the front steps to the house, suddenly, going downstairs to greet her had seemed the most natural idea in the world. There had been only the slightest hesitation, halting his steps halfway between the window sill and the door, because Sharon must have been pretty mad about the way he'd just taken off… But he'd much rather have her angry at him here, than giving him that painfully effortful smile back home, and while he was sorry to have made her worry, he wasn't sorry about what he'd done, and he wasn't going to hide away from it. Or from her.

He left the bedroom, and walking down the hallway he could hear hushed murmurs from downstairs, and when he reached the little landing right by the top step he saw her, still wearing her brother's too-large black coat wrapped around her shoulders, and he hoped she'd turn in his direction so he could greet her…

"Mom!"

Rusty and Sharon both looked to the source of the muted cry, and there was Katie coming from around the staircase, and she ran up to her mother and wrapped her arms tight around the woman, and Rusty noticed she was standing on tiptoes to get a better hold.

She held on for a few seconds, then relaxed her grip just enough to step back and look up at Sharon, and she whimpered, "Oh my god, mom…", and her hands cupped both sides of Sharon's face, fingers trailing gently down the older woman's temples, and then she rose on tiptoes again and her arms went around her mother's neck and she pulled Sharon into another hug.

Rusty hesitantly took a step back.

He could wait to greet Sharon. He really could.

"I love you," Katie murmured into her mother's hair, and she felt the woman's arms squeeze a little tighter in response, and it was so reassuring because the weariness and anguish she'd seen in Sharon's eyes had almost made her cry. "I'm so glad you're here," and she had to say it again like a mantra, "I'm so glad you're here… I'm so sorry…"

And she could feel her mother's hands caressing her hair, and Sharon pulled back a little to look into her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I love you, mommy," Katie said again, using a diminutive she had barely ever used in years, and Sharon's lips trembled a little.

"I love you too, sweetheart," she murmured back, passing another hand through her daughter's hair and pushing back some of the errant strands. "Are you okay?"

And Katie sighed a little. "Yes. I'm fine, Mom…" She couldn't help mirroring her mother's gesture, pushing back a strand of hair from Sharon's temple, and she had to frown at the worry lines and the tension she felt just beneath the skin. "I'm… really glad you're here."

Sharon squeezed her hand in a silent reply. "How's grandma? Where is she?"

"Upstairs," said Katie, "Aunt Steffi and Mrs. Annie are with her. Oh…Uncle Paul," she turned to the man, but kept one hand around Sharon's waist, their shoulders touching, "Mrs. Annie wanted to know if you'd mind driving her back in a little while… she sent Mr. Martin home, he doesn't see well enough to drive at night anyway…"

Sharon's brother nodded. "I'll go pull up the car." He made a little hand motion at Sharon, as though asking for her permission for something, and she was a little confused until she realized she was still wearing his coat.

"Oh – of course," she shrugged it off her shoulders and held it back to him. "Thank you." He squeezed her fingers briefly when he took it back, then slipped it on and walked out of the house without further comment.

"Mom, let's go upstairs to your room," Katie pleaded. "You can find something to change into, and I'll get you some food…"

"What – no, honey, wait," Sharon resisted when her daughter tried to gently pull her up the stairs, and her expression was suddenly concerned, serious. "Katie, where are your brother, and Rusty…? Did they –"

"They're fine," the young woman hurried to confirm, "they're here, they made it alright, they're fine, everything's fine, mom, okay? Rusty's upstairs in Uncle Paul's room, and Ricky's… I don't know, helping Julie with dinner, or something…" In fact, she recalled suddenly, he was sorting through a variety of dishes dropped over by well-meaning neighbors. "But they're okay… everything's okay…"

A shadow crossed her mother's face, and Katie realized that, of course, everything was not okay.

Sharon's eyes automatically turned to the door to the left side of the staircase.

"Is that…" she swallowed hard, and had to take a breath. When she spoke, it was in a very low, measured tone. "Is that where grandpa is?"

Katie nodded silently, but tugged on her mother's hand when the older woman instinctively tried to take a step toward the room. "Mom don't go in there…" she sighed, "Not yet. Please." She looked up entreatingly. "Please wait a little bit. You just got here."

"It's fine, honey…"

"No, no it's not fine," unexpectedly Katie found herself close to tears, because her mother was looking so stressed, so terribly exhausted, and still she was just going to be stubborn about everything and Katie hated feeling so powerless, and… "just… wait a little while, Mom, for once, just please, please –"

"Okay," Sharon pulled her close with a comforting noise, and Katie sniffled against her suit jacket, a little embarrassed, "okay honey, alright, I'll wait, I'm sorry…"

And Katie just felt worse because here her mom was comforting her, and this was so not how it was supposed to happen, and she sniffled again and took a deep breath, letting her mother's familiar perfume and the warmth of her arms wash over her, until the unexpected rush of anxiety subsided and she could let out a little sigh. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for," Sharon said soothingly. "I know how much you loved grandpa…"

Katie just sighed again, because this wasn't about grandpa… or maybe it was about grandpa too, who knew? At the moment all she wanted was to make sure her mother was okay, because her appearance was freaking Katie out, and the funeral was tomorrow and there would be so much to do and so much to handle and she was already worried about grandma…

"Why don't we go get a glass of water, honey," Sharon suggested, and Katie didn't miss the fact that this was a temporary reprieve at best, but there just wasn't anything else she could say and further protests weren't going to make either of them any less stressed.

Rusty backtracked doubtfully toward the bedroom.

However unwitting, overhearing Sharon's brief conversation with her daughter had felt intrusive. Thinking about it any further felt wrong. It definitely hadn't been meant for his ears, and he'd caused enough troubles lately without adding eavesdropping to his long list of trespassings.

He was at a loss again. He wanted to go back to the room and be good, but he also wanted to go downstairs and be with Sharon, and hopelessly torn between the two he did neither, but instead hesitated too long in the hallway, his mind guiltily trying to come up with a valid reason to seek her out. But there was no reason, because this wasn't about him, and Sharon wasn't there for him, and no matter how Rusty looked at it, inserting himself into her time now was all sorts of inappropriate.

So he walked back into the room and dropped down on one of the beds with a long sigh.

Sharon knew where he was, Katie had told her as much. At least she'd know exactly where to come if she wanted to see him.

He hoped she would, if only to ease the heavy knot in his stomach that was part worry, part guilt, part fear, and a variety of other parts he couldn't even identify.

Like never before, over the past few days Rusty had become acutely aware of how he'd complicated Sharon's life. He'd never thought about it much after coming to live with her; his own life had just kept throwing one curve ball after another, whereas hers was so put-together and good that it had always seemed ludicrous to even make the comparison…

…until he'd watched her face her own tragedy, and watched it made a million times worse by his presence in her life.

So yes, he hoped she would, but he couldn't blame her if she didn't want to see him.

It was true that not once had she ever spoken a word or made a gesture of recrimination. Not in the early days, not even when they fought, and not in the last, terrible week, not after the letters nightmare on Friday, or after Emma's awful repercussions, not after the sleepless nights and the anguish-filled days, not once in that whole time had Sharon turned to accuse him. She must've known what he was costing her, a lot earlier than he did, and still she'd stuck it out, and he had no idea why...

Whatever happens…

Rusty wrapped his arms tight around himself and let his chin fall to his chest.

This wasn't something he wanted to deal with, and somehow it was painful to think about. She'd said 'whatever' – but then so much had happened, and Rusty wasn't sure that Sharon hadn't changed her mind, and he couldn't fault her if she had because 'whatever happens' was a lot to ask for.

And he hadn't asked for it, and he had no clue what to even do with it, he wasn't even sure he wanted it except he was suddenly terrified of losing it.

The knot in his stomach twisted further.

And still he had no idea whether to go look for Sharon, or wait for her to find him when she wanted to, and in the midst of her family's loss he was torn because he wanted to do something for her, but he didn't know what she needed… And when he would eventually see her again, he had no idea what to even tell her, because where would he even start…?

When there was a knock on his half-open door a few minutes later, Rusty couldn't entirely help the half-anxious, half-eager expression as he looked up. He schooled it instantly at the sight of Lieutenant Flynn in the doorway, however, and the man diplomatically pretended he hadn't seen it.

"Hey, kid." Lt. Flynn nodded a brief greeting. "Can I come in?"

"Uh – yeah. Hi." Rusty stood, retreating a couple of steps toward the window sill, hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets and adopted a look that was somewhere between cautious and curious. Truth be told, he was thrilled to see a familiar face at last, but even so the lieutenant's presence was a little unexpected.

"How are you holding up?"

The quiet question took him by surprise, and Rusty shrugged. "Fine," then, before he could stop himself: "How's Sharon?"

It was Flynn's turn to give a vague sort of shrug, his expression turning graver. "She's downstairs, I think," he said finally, "talking to…some… family friend." It had taken him a second to retrieve the connection, and Rusty could sympathize, because he'd been trying to keep names, faces and relations straight in his head all afternoon.

The man's reply, however, hadn't satisfied him. "And…?"

Flynn arched his eyebrows a little wryly. "And what?"

"And, like, how is she? Is she okay? Is she m –" He cut himself off before finishing 'mad', but the lieutenant intuited his meaning anyway.

"…pissed at you for running off like an idiot?" Flynn's eyebrows rose even higher, and he gave the boy a knowing glance; when Rusty crossed his arms a little defensively, the older man shook his head. "Look, kid, I get it. And I'm not gonna tell you what you did was wrong – but it was stupid. And I think you're smart enough to know why."

He was, and he did, and again Rusty gave a very teenage sullen shrug, his hands going all the way in his pockets this time.

"No point worrying about it now, though," Lt. Flynn pointed out. "What's done is done. And the rest…you're just gonna have to deal with it as it comes, and work it out with the Captain."

The boy wasn't so sure they could work it out; in running off, he'd done the one thing that he and Sharon had always silently agreed he'd never, ever do. But there was nothing that Lt. Flynn could change about that, and anyway before either of them could add anything else, the sound of footsteps came up the hallway and the door opened all the way again.

Ricky walked in, doing a slight double take at the sight of the new guest – which even Rusty had to admit was warranted, because he still hadn't figured out himself what the lieutenant was doing there.

Then Ricky arched his eyebrows, and said: "Lieutenant… Flint!" And Rusty rolled his eyes and gave him a disbelieving look. Names really weren't Ricky's thing, obviously.

To his credit, Sharon's son winced in embarrassment as he guessed the meaning of the boy's look, and he shot the lieutenant an apologetic glance.

"Flynn," the older man corrected good-naturedly, and they exchanged a polite greeting and an agonizing minute of awkward small talk that impressed upon Rusty once again just how completely separate Sharon's work and family life were. Clearly people on the two sides never expected to talk to each other, and there was no conversation topic broad enough to bridge the great divide.

Which was fine for everyone else, because they knew exactly which side of her life they were on, and didn't need to worry about navigating it all – but for Rusty, the lines and boundaries were constantly blurring, with so many unknowns and complications, and he just didn't know where he stood anymore. The past week had really driven the point home: his place in Sharon's life was precarious and undefined. It seemed like he didn't really belong on either side.

" – thought maybe Mom and Katie had come up," Ricky's words broke into his thoughts, an almost welcome reprieve, "but they don't seem to be around. Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation."

"Don't worry about it," Lt. Flynn waved a dismissive hand, "I'd just come up to say hello. Make sure you two made it over alright…"

Unlike Rusty, Ricky didn't look like he was feeling too guilty, although he did grimace at the reminder of their off-the-cuff departure. "Yeah. That's kind of why I was looking for Mom, too. Guess she and Katie might've gone over to Uncle Paul's…" He sounded a little doubtful, and for good reason.

"I think they're in the…kitchen," Rusty put in, although as he spoke he realized he wasn't too sure where one 'got a glass of water' in the large house. The place was a maze. No wonder Ricky couldn't find them.

"Oh – okay, thanks," Sharon's son nodded, "I guess I'll… go look there, then. Sorry again for barging in."

Lt. Flynn waved off the apology again, while Rusty gave another shrug: "It's your room," he muttered.

"Technically, it's Uncle Paul's," Ricky joked, "even if it's been, like, forty years, he's pretty clear on –"

But he never got to finish his sentence, as someone else appeared in the doorway and interrupted him.

"Oh." Katie, too, looked a little startled at the small gathering in the bedroom. "Uhm, hi…" Her eyes studied Lt. Flynn for a moment, a little confused, before she turned to her brother.

She looked stressed, her brow furrowed and her gaze sober and her lips pressed together ever so slightly, an expression that Rusty had seen all too often lately, and immediately he wondered what was wrong and what made Katie look this frazzled and if it was Sharon and –

"Where's Mom?" Ricky must have been thinking along similar lines, and Katie's expression turned even more strained. Her eyes flashed to Lt. Flynn again for the briefest moment, a little unsure, and the man immediately took the unwitting hint.

"If you don't mind, I was about to go downstairs and get a glass of water," he said diplomatically. He didn't quite understand the grimace that crossed Katie's face, but he didn't question it, turning instead to Rusty. "Do you think you can show me where the kitchen is?"

In fact, the boy did mind, because he wanted to hear Katie's reply, but Flynn's expression was meaningful enough that he didn't argue. "I can try..." he grumbled, and part of that was him being a little resentful at the lieutenant's suggestion, but part of it was also the truth, because he wasn't entirely sure that he could locate any room in the house with precision.

Still, it was enough for Lt. Flynn, who excused himself and preceded him out of the room, and Rusty stalled as much as he could, enough to hear Ricky repeat his question in a quieter tone, and to hear Katie reply:

"She went in to… see... grandpa."

And he couldn't say he was surprised, not after Sharon's earlier conversation with her daughter, but he could definitely understand why Katie sounded so troubled. His own shoulders tensed as he reluctantly walked away.

Briefly, he'd thought the worst of it was over when he and Sharon had finally made it to her parents' house… but of course, out of everything that had happened in the past few days, one thing above all was permanent and irreversible, and that was why they were here in the first place, and even with her family to support her, Sharon still had to deal with it.

And if the only thing he could do for her was stay out of her way, then Rusty was determined that that was what he'd do, even if it did make him feel terribly out of place and unwanted.

Sharon had stepped inside the room with forced determination and closed the door behind her before she could change her mind.

The first thing that struck her was the strong smell of incense, and that the room was so much colder than anywhere else in the house. The window on the right wall was open, rattling loudly from the wind outside, but there must have been some sort of refrigeration system at work, too, because the air felt nearly freezing. The second her hand left the door handle she couldn't suppress a racking shiver.

She walked across the room with heavy steps, her eyes slowly, hesitantly moving to finally look at the long table near the far wall. A coffin rested on it, and her first thought was that her father didn't look like he was sleeping.

She couldn't understand what he looked like, even though she'd seen so many dead bodies in her life, but nothing, none of it had prepared her for this. The light in the room was dim and copper from several candles and a small lamp, and it cast eerie shadows on his skin, and unwillingly her mind flashed back to all the other bodies – people. It didn't make sense that this, here, was the same thing, because it just couldn't be.

There was a chair right near the head of the table, and Sharon was grateful for it because she didn't think her legs could support her anymore. Dropping heavily into the chair, she felt her gaze drawn back to her father's face, even though she wanted to look away. Icy cold spread through her veins at the thought that this was it…

I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. Please…

But there was nothing to say, nothing to pray for, nothing to do. An odd sort of numbness began to slowly take over, and she couldn't breathe properly, with the smell of the wax candles and the incense and just the whole of it assaulting her senses, and her breaths had somehow become shallow pants, and she acutely felt that she was not getting enough air…

Sharon knew to calm herself because the edges of her vision were starting to grow fuzzy, and she willed her eyes to move away from her father's face, to the sleeves of his suit, the tips of his fingers, the buttons, the little handkerchief in the breast pocket. Slowly the numbness began to recede, and her breath came out in soft, just audible gasps. Her body still felt heavy and so, so cold.

Out of nowhere a fly landed on her father's left hand and Sharon choked on a sob. She wanted to wave a hand at it, but couldn't move; she had to grip the edge of the table with one hand just to keep sitting upright in the chair.

Oh God, Dad… Dad… Dad, please…

But she knew better than this. She knew she had to accept it even though her entire body was racked by shudders at the thought. She looked at his face again, eyes closed, his skin looking so different, almost like a mask, and again she thought of how she'd seen so many dead bodies…

She could barely reach out to touch him, but she made herself do it, even if it was just a light touch on the sleeve of his jacket. Then she followed by brushing a hand through his hair. And then she lay her badly shaking fingers atop his hand, and she was expecting it to be cold but it wasn't, it was just… foreign, there, and Sharon let her hand rest over it for as long as she could, then she trailed down the edges of his jacket, straightening a non-existent wrinkle, and she looked at him again and nearly doubled over in a stunning stab of physical pain. She didn't want to let go, ever; she gripped his hand through the sleeve, just above his wrist, her fingers clenched.

Dad. Dad…

But she couldn't, whatever closure she was looking for she wasn't going to get it, because there was no closure for this. And suddenly she wasn't afraid to touch him anymore, and she leaned over and lowered her forehead to his, eyes closed, not breathing, her hand touching cold fingers to his cold cheek.

With an effort she pulled herself up, and she looked at her father again, and she never, never wanted to let go because the second she did, the second she left, she'd be saying goodbye forever, and she just couldn't do that, she couldn't.

A slight creak and a sudden sliver of brighter light let her known that the door had opened, and Sharon looked back even though one hand was still resting on her father's suit jacket. Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled over at the sight of her brother, and she watched him walk across the room to her with slow steps, until he was close to her chair and she turned her head away, her body angling back toward their father.

"It's late, Sharon." Paul whispered so softly, in his gruff voice, and all she could do was shake her head.

Please, please don't make me go.

"Dad… " He sighed. "Dad'll be here tomorrow morning."

But no, she knew that this was it, and she was so unreasonable angry at Paul because he was trying to make her leave when she just couldn't. And when her brother closed the remaining distance between them with one last step, and put his hand on her shoulder, she turned her head away even more, then lowered it above her joined hands, above their father's body.

Crouching slightly, Paul moved his hand to her forearm and put the other around her shoulder, and he pulled just slightly and she pulled back, stubbornly, and then his voice was coming out in that gentle rumble again. "Come on, Sharon."

"I can't…. Paul, I can't…" Her whisper was barely audible to her own ears; she wasn't crying, but she could barely speak. Her eyes looked desperately at her father's face, and she couldn't pull away, because this was the last time she could ever see him and she couldn't say goodbye, not now, not like this, not when there was so much…

Paul kissed the top of her hair. "Let's go, Shar. There's nothing more we can do."

Sharon let her breath leave her with a long, muted gasp, and she stopped pulling back and let him turn her away, but when she stood up she turned back. Her brother was keeping his grip on one of her arms, but with the other she reached over to caress their father's cheek one more time, to straighten his jacket, and again she felt that stab of pain through her stomach strong enough to double her over. But she just clenched Paul's arm with trembling fingers, and with her other hand trailed down her father's temple, his cheek, his jaw, and finally she leaned down and kissed his forehead.

Then with great effort she willed herself to turn away, and when the two of them had walked almost all the way to the door, she let go of her brother and looked back one last time, and the sudden urge to rush back was so strong that it constricted her chest, and it took all her willpower to grip the door handle, open the door and step out into the hallway.

Paul had turned back to figure out a way to secure the open window against the wind, and Sharon had waved him off with a reassurance that she'd be fine on her own, but the truth was that walking back into the lobby she found the task of climbing the staircase too daunting. Silently, she checked the hallways to the left and right, and glanced over to make sure there was no one in the parlor or living room, and when she was satisfied that she'd get a few moments of privacy, she sat down on one of the bottom steps and leaned heavily against the lacquered banister posts.

Her daughter had been right to tell her to wait, Sharon knew. But then there was no time left to wait, because she'd already been so late… too late. With a shaky breath, she forced that train of thought away, because she wasn't all that far from the room that held her father, and the need to go back and do something was still fighting its way to the surface.

She still couldn't understand how she could be so powerless in this. Oh she knew how, of course, and she'd been well aware for years that something like this would happen eventually, but she simply couldn't understand how to sit back and take it, or why.

…because our fate is not always in our own hands…

A flash of intense anger accompanied the unbidden memory, because the last thing she wanted was to be living the words that some maniac had written in those threat letters.

Another shiver ran down her spine, and she couldn't tell anymore if it was the colder weather, or her own dread, or exhaustion or…whatever. She didn't even know how late it was, having completely lost track of time.

And she hadn't seen her mother yet, or greeted Ricky or tracked down Rusty and she'd meant to do all of it, but then she hadn't been able to stop herself from going in to see her father, and she had no idea how long she'd been in there, and now the simple act of walking up the stairs seemed more than she wanted to handle…

But she couldn't put any of it off any longer, and it wasn't fair to her brother to let him deal with all the arrangements and responsibilities by himself, either. Especially not when she'd unwittingly created so much extra trouble.

With a long sigh, Sharon closed her eyes briefly and tried to force some order into her thoughts so she could take a mental inventory.

She'd go see her mother, first. Her sister was looking after her, which reassured Sharon somewhat, because Steffi's presence was sure to be a comfort to their mother. Still she needed to see for herself, and greet her mother and see what she could do to make things easier… And after that she could go look for Rusty in her brother's old room; Katie had said he was okay but again Sharon wanted to make sure… And she wanted to talk to Ricky, too, and – oh, she'd completely forgotten about Lt. Flynn, who had to be somewhere in the house and would also need a place to sleep, of course, and –

"Mom!"

Her eyes flew open at the note of alarm in her son's tone, but Ricky seemed okay as he stamped down the stairs, although she cringed slightly at the speed and the way he barely caught himself from tripping over the last steps. When he more or less landed beside her, she took the opportunity to inspect him closer, and indeed he was in one piece and well, despite the agitated expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked, at the same time that he asked, "Are you okay?" And then they stared at each other in relative confusion for a second, until it dawned on Sharon that she was the cause for his alarm, and it occurred to Ricky that maybe his mom was just taking a quiet moment to think, which admittedly wasn't that unusual.

"I'm fine, honey," she hurried to reassure him, and he cleared his throat and gave a little embarrassed grimace.

"Uh – me too?" And almost against herself Sharon had to smile, because she always missed how Ricky could infuse a note of humor even into the most awkward situations. And she really missed the way his eyes softened when he looked at her sometimes, as he did currently: "Sorry, Mom… we're just a little… worried, right now."

"I know," she acknowledged, because she did know, not just by their words but by their actions – which she wasn't feeling up to discussing just yet. "I'm sorry."

Ricky sighed. "Not your fault..." For a second, he looked like he wanted to bring up something else, probably his actions from earlier in the day, but he changed his mind halfway through. "So…are you done thinking?" He was relieved to see her smile ever so slightly again. "Katie's upstairs too, and I have about thirty casseroles I can bring up if you're hungry…"

Gripping the banister, Sharon pulled herself up. "Not right now honey, thank you. I need to go see grandma…" She let out a slow breath. "What time is it?"

"Just after nine," he replied, then tried again: "How about dinner after you talk to grandma? We were waiting for you, to eat…"

Unfortunately, the trick that had worked the previous day didn't do it this time, and she just shook her head. "Don't wait any longer," she advised, "I don't know how long it will take with grandma." He was about to say more, but Sharon held up a hand to preempt further protests. "Actually, Ricky, if you don't mind, there's one thing I'd like to ask you to do..."

And after delegating to her son the task of finding Lt. Flynn, making sure the man was comfortable and figuring out sleeping arrangements, there was no reason to wait any longer. Slowly, Sharon made her way up the staircase, suppressing one last shiver as her mind kept flashing back to the image of the candle-lit room that smelled too strongly of incense.

A/N: I swear next chapter will get us past the actual funeral, even if it needs to have 8,000 words to get there :P. (it probably won't need that many, though). Like I said, we're on the last chapters of this story, so if there are any interactions within Sharon's family that you'd particularly like to see, let me know! (aside from Sharon/Rusty, of course, which I assure you we will be seeing plenty of... eventually ;) )

As always, thank you for reading, I'm incredibly grateful for all your support and encouragement :). And, I love reviews more than Rusty loves complaining about his security detail.