She's still smiling when she steps through her front door and slips inside. She's not home too late from Brenda's. The kissing and comfort didn't escalate very far tonight, just enough to take her away for a while.
The first thing she notices is that the apartment is mostly dark except for the lamp in the family room. Rusty is there: sitting on the couch, looking at something in his lap. When Sharon rounds the couch she sees it's the book she gave him for his birthday last month and she smiles a little wider.
"Hey there. How was the movie?" Sharon asks, tossing her blazer over a kitchen chair and then pulling her hair up in a bun.
"Good." Rusty says, a little curtly, and she knows something is wrong.
Sharon nods. "Okay… and dinner?"
"Fine." He flips a page and still doesn't meet her eye. Sharon ducks down the hallway for a moment to see if the bathroom light is on. "He isn't here. He left an hour ago." Rusty's edged tone pulls her back.
"Oh." Sharon replies.
"Where were you? And don't say work because I know for a fact everyone was out of the office early." Rusty asks, closing his book but still avoiding her gaze.
Sharon panics but barely shows the inner turmoil. The lie slips out smoothly, as always. "I had a few errands to take care of and I thought the two of you might like some time alone."
Rusty finally looks at her. His eyes are hard, his mouth drawn. "Right," he says. And she can tell he doesn't believe her. In a way, it makes her proud to know he can see her bullshit from a mile off.
"Rusty," Sharon wants to say something encouraging or comforting but Rusty's on his feet before she can come up with it.
"I'm going to my room. There's leftovers in the fridge. Night, Sharon." He stalks off towards his room and Sharon's left in the proverbial dust, hoping like hell she hasn't done any permanent damage. It's always hard to tell these days which things she does – good or bad – will stick to their relationship more permanently.
Things between them are much less tenuous then they were at first, but it's still a challenge to make sure he doesn't feel neglected or pushed away. She can tell when he feels like this and it stings. Especially since all she wants is for him to stay right where he is.
She picks up the book where he left it on the coffee table and flips through it for a minute. She feels the guilt settling in. She doesn't know what to say to him when she sees Brenda. Usually it's easy to make a believable excuse, but every once in a while she can tell he sees past it. And she can tell that when he senses hers lie, the old wounds - the ones made by ever untrustworthy adult he's known - are as fresh as ever. She knows if she keeps him in the dark, keeps reopening his old scars every time she lies to him or isn't there or makes him feel unwanted, those wounds will never heal. And that is what she's most afraid of. She's seen what happens to those people who can't heal. She's married to that kind of person.
But how can she tell Rusty the truth about Brenda when she doesn't know the truth herself? She doesn't know what she's doing, and she can't tell him that. It would only make him more confused, more distrustful. Because if Sharon can't figure her own life out, how the hell is she supposed to help him with his?
She drops the book back on the table and rubs her eyes, her fingers lifting her glasses slightly to accommodate. For tonight, she'll retire to her room as well, try to get as much rest as she can, and hope that this is one of the things that doesn't stick, that Rusty will wake in the morning with a calmer head and forgive her.
She's happy to find that the morning offers just the clarity they both need. Rusty apologizes for the night before. Well, he doesn't say it in so many words, but he makes her breakfast as he often does when he's sorry or when he needs to ask for something. The gesture makes her smile. She doesn't give a verbal apology either, mostly because she's not sure what answer to give if she admits her lie, but she tells him that after work they should sit down and watch some TV together. After all, they haven't had a chance to catch up on Fringe and she knows he's anxious to.
He agrees happily and she takes him to school. She tries not to let her discomfort bubble to the surface when he tells her that Jack is picking him up later to hang out. Just until Sharon gets home, he adds, knowing she's not entirely content with the arrangement. She just nods and smiles and waves goodbye, ready to throw herself into whatever Major Crimes is tasked with today.
It's after 4 o'clock when Rusty shows up at the office looking like he's been kicked in the heart. He tiptoes into the office in back, trying to evade Sharon's radar. Sharon immediately sidesteps Sykes to rush after him.
"Rusty, what's going on? I thought you were with Jack...?"
Rusty glances up for a moment and she can see the hurt in his eyes plainly.
"He didn't show."
"He what?!" Sharon steps closer and sits in a chair across the desk from him.
"I was waiting out in front of the school for him but he didn't show. He wasn't answering his phone and I got tired of waiting so I came here." He glances up at her again as if checking that it's all right, that he didn't do something wrong. It breaks Sharon's heart.
She glances at her watch to confirm the time. "You've been done for over an hour. Why didn't you call me? I could have picked you up," Sharon makes sure her tone isn't admonishing, only sympathetic to his abandonment. She's also trying to keep her rage – which is ramping up quicker than she'd like – out of her expression.
Because how could Jack do this to him? And to her? Because besides the obvious emotional turmoil he's causing Rusty, it's absolutely unacceptable given the rest of the boy's circumstances. What if Rusty's threatening penpal figured out where he goes to school and no one was there to protect him? The mere thought makes her heart beat painfully against her ribs. It's a testament to her self control that she hasn't thrown something across the room.
"I didn't want to bother you." Rusty says quietly. He's trying to deflect the blame from Jack, as if he can't fathom that the man stood him up at all.
She reaches out and grabs one of his hands and holds it firmly. His eyes creep up to meet hers.
"Rusty, you are never a bother to me. Whenever you need me, you tell me and I will be there. You know that, right?"
He holds her gaze for a minute. He nods. He gives her hand a squeeze which she returns before letting it go. Can't hold a teenaged boy's hand too long without risk of embarrassment, whether anyone's around or not.
Sharon checks her watch again out of habit and stands from her chair with a grin. "What do you say I duck out of work early and we get a head start on TV catch-up."
Rusty looks taken aback at Sharon's suggestion. "Don't they need you here?"
Sharon smiles wider. "Not right now. Besides, it's nothing Lieutenant Provenza can't handle. And he'll probably be glad to have me out of his hair for a while."
Sharon steps out of the room, out of Rusty's sight, and her hands immediately curl into fists. Everyone in the murder room glimpses the look on her face as she sweeps past them, headed straight for her office. They exchange concerned looks but are too afraid to follow her when she's clearly pissed.
Sharon grabs her cell and calls Jack – once, twice, three times – and then leaves a bitter message to the tune of, who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are and how-dare-you. She hangs up before her more colourful language takes over completely, though she's sure she's let slip a few words her mother would have thought were very un-Catholic.
She takes a few more minutes in her office to compose herself and then returns to her squad. She smiles weakly at Provenza and pulls him aside to explain. He squeezes her arm, tells her "Of course, Captain. We've got everything here under control," and she feels a little better.
She isn't alone in her care of Rusty, not really. The whole unit has been there to back her up, regardless of how they initially felt about her leadership. And she could not be more grateful when she waves goodbye to the rest of them and they all smile back at her, genuinely, without any reservations or attitude or judgement. They're on her side, something she never could have imagined as a reality less than a year ago.
"Ready to go?" She asks as she returns to where Rusty is waiting eagerly, his backpack in his lap and a little shock still obvious in his face. He may never get used to being put first or being considered a priority. But she hopes he does someday. He deserves to.
"Yeah," he says with a smile. He can tell she's desperate to take revenge on Jack, that underneath her serene surface she's bubbling with anger. But she wears a smile just for him and the least he can do is wear one for her. Besides, she really has turned a shit day into a better one. And in less than ten minutes. If that isn't Captain Sharon Raydor efficiency, he doesn't know what is.
They get through five episodes of Fringe before Rusty falls asleep on the couch. Sharon pokes him in the side until he groans and wakes up enough for her to tell him to go to bed. He's about to stand up to just that, but then he turns to Sharon on the couch. She raises an eyebrow.
"Thanks, Sharon." He says in a voice that's still roughened by weariness.
"You don't have to thank me." Sharon says. It's what she believes. She would do the same thing for any of her kids. He is no different to her and the sooner he realizes this completely, the happier they'll both be.
"Yeah, well. Thanks, anyway." Rusty replies. He looks uncomfortable for a second, like he's about to say something else. Instead he leans forward and hugs her awkwardly. She's in shock for half a second before she's hugging him back.
He extracts himself just as awkwardly and stands, nodding as if he's reassuring himself that everything's okay.
"Night, Sharon."
"Goodnight." Sharon replies with a smile.
In the middle of the night, Sharon's rest is disturbed by sounds from the kitchen. She feels a dreadful sense of déjà vu even as she ignores it. Because Jack wouldn't be stupid enough to make a return visit like this. She feels the need to give him that much credit. After all, she married the man.
So she pulls her service weapon out of the bedside table and tiptoes down the hall without making a sound. First she checks Rusty's room and finds him sleeping undisturbed. This at least is a blessing. She shuts the door gently and slinks back down the other way towards the kitchen.
She hears him humming and grinds her teeth together.
She lowers the gun to her side. When she rounds the corner and sees him with his back to her, she simply stands there for a long moment, struck dumb by disbelief.
He finally becomes aware of her presence and turns around to appraise her – her body is tense, her jaw is tight, and he remembers this look well enough to know that he needs to tread carefully. Unfortunately for him, he has had a few more drinks than his usual indulgence allows and his prior knowledge isn't informing his wits anymore.
He smiles slowly. He gestures to the counter behind him. "Hope you don't mind. I was just making a sandwich."
"You were supposed to be staying in a hotel, or in that apartment you're supposed to be getting for yourself." She says.
Jack sways a little where he stands and Sharon's blood boils in her veins.
"I know, but I got your messages an hour ago. I'm sorry. My phone died sometime this morning and I didn't notice. In my defense, I was sure you were picking him up today."
Sharon scoffs at that, rolling her eyes in a practised arc. "That excuse isn't good enough, Jack. Care to try another?"
His smile slips away and he pulls a pained expression, aiming for sympathy now. He takes a few steps towards her – remarkably steady ones, considering – until he is right in front of her. He places his hands on her shoulders and she fights the urge to push him away. Instead she stands completely still. She wants to hear what he's going to say this time.
"Shar, I'm sorry. I came here because I wanted to apologize in person." He smirks slightly. "You always find me more agreeable face-to-face.
Her expression didn't warm an inch. "How many did you have tonight? Five? Six?" He stiffens. "Or is it closer to ten or eleven?"
Jack's face loses any of its humour, falling immediately into a stony grimace. He drops his hands from her arms and stalks back to the counter.
"Closer to twenty, maybe? Maybe you've been going all day. Maybe you were at the bar when you were letting down yet another person who just wanted you to care." Sharon's entire body is vibrating.
She can tell by the way his shoulders hunch that she's done it. She's sent him spiralling in the other direction. His charms are exhausted and all he has left are their opposites.
"Well he's not even my fucking kid. So tell me why I should give a shit." He turns around, leaning against the counter and fixing her with a hard stare.
"You shouldn't. And you shouldn't have pretended to. He deserves better than you."
"You're a real piece of work." He shakes his index finger in the air as if conjuring an old remembrance. "Sometimes I forget just how fucking holier-than-thou you pretend to be. You think you're so far above us all and we're just standing in awe of how fucking perfect you are. But you forget that what made me drink in the first place was this exact same bullshit. It's your goddamn fault that-"
"Don't you dare blame me." Sharon's voice has dropped an entire register, nearing a growl. "I don't care where you go, but you have to get out of my home. Now."
He chuckles and scratches absently at his chin. His eyes darken when he turns them back on her.
"Or what." He says. A chill runs down Sharon's spine. She's heard this voice before. It's the one she tries to forget. It's the one that made her leave him in the first place. The one that scared her so badly she hadn't been able to sleep soundly for a long time after their separation. The one that made her afraid of him.
The voice is so uncanny that the old fear snaps back into her in an instant.
She raises her gun instinctually, without a thought.
"Get out. Of my home. Now."
He looks down the barrel then into her eyes and back again. He's afraid now. He should be. But he tries to hide it anyway. He raises his hands in the air in mocking surrender.
"Are you gonna shoot me, Sharon? Is that how much better you are, that you'll shoot your own unarmed husband?"
His drunken bravado makes him take a step towards her. She firms up her grip on the gun and backs away, clearing his path to the door.
"Get out, Jack. I don't want to see you again."
He nods, picks up his sandwich from the counter, and sways as he walks past her and out the front door. She's at it in a second, throwing the added locks closed, making damn sure he can't use his key to barge into her life again.
She puts her back against the door and sinks to the floor. She puts her gun down beside her – the safety is still on, has been since the moment she entered the kitchen – and buries her face in her arms.
"Sharon?" Rusty's voice is just above a whisper. He sounds afraid and she wonders how much he heard. She raises her head to see him hugging the corner of the wall, peeking out at her.
"I didn't mean to wake you," is all she can think of to say.
"Are you okay?" He rounds the corner finally and comes over to where she's sitting. She reaches up a hand and he takes it, pulling her to her feet.
She smiles weakly at him. No more lying. "Not just now. But I will be."
Just before he steps back into his bedroom and she steps into hers, he speaks so softly she wonders if she hears him right.
"You deserve better too, you know."
An hour after Jack has left, Sharon still can't sleep. The scene in the kitchen is replaying over and over in her mind and there's only one thing she wants to do but can't. Her phone is set on top of the bed and she's staring at it.
Every once in a while she reaches for it or uses it to check the time even though the clock on her nightstand works just fine.
After another few minutes of fidgeting, she buckles. It takes four rings for a response at the end of the line.
"Sharon? Wassgoinon?" Brenda's voice is thick and Sharon can imagine the blonde in bed, sleep-mussed and confused. The sound of her voice and this picture in her mind's eye makes Sharon smile instantly. It falters in a second when her reason kicks in and reminds her that she shouldn't be calling a woman she only knows casually and sleeps with sometimes.
"I – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called." Sharon says. But she doesn't hang up. She hears shuffling over the phone and imagines Brenda sitting up in bed.
"Are you all right? Somethin' happen?"
"Jack showed up again. Unwelcomed. I just..." Sharon hesitates. "I just wanted to hear your voice." Sharon gulps hard and wishes she hadn't just said that. It's too much, too serious, and too brutally true.
Brenda says nothing at first and Sharon is sure she's overstepped her bounds. Then the woman asks something she never has before and Sharon has to catch her breath.
"Can I come over there?"
Sharon blinks. "Rusty's here."
"That doesn't really answer my question." Brenda says.
"It doesn't?"
"Nope."
Sharon is the one who hesitates this time. She shouldn't want exactly what Brenda is offering as much as she does, and she does want it. Painfully so. It's why she picked up the phone in the first place. But admitting that is terrifying. Because she still can't figure out what it means for them or for her or for her situation with Rusty or any of it.
"If you want me there, that is," Sharon can hear the sudden uncertainty in Brenda's voice, the little shift, as if the woman isn't sure where she stands anymore. It's that uncertainty that makes Sharon's response come easily.
"Yes."
The change in Brenda's tone is instant.
"Okay, then I'll be there soon."