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Fit to the Crime (2)
He didn't know if it was the disappointment in Sharon's face that hurt more, or her disbelief when he'd told her.
He'd had to explain twice what he'd done. She'd thought that she'd misunderstood, the first time.
He could tell when it all sunk in by the way her usual warmth drained out of her face, to be replaced by horrified, wide-eyed alert. She'd stared at him for a long, terrible moment, her mouth working silently –
"You were planning," she said, in a hoarse tone, "to go meet with a potential. criminal."
"No! I mean... yes, but – " The fidgeting he'd done from the moment he'd started his explanation hadn't decreased.
Her expression grew darker.
"He wanted to meet with me," scrambled Rusty. "I knew I had to figure out if he's dangerous before I replied to him."
He could tell by her fixed look that his argument wasn't helping.
"But I swear, I didn't think that the background check could get you in trouble," he pleaded. She really needed to understand that. "I wasn't trying to go behind your back, Sharon, I just... I – I didn't know how else to get that information. I couldn't think of anything else to do..."
Her eyebrows rose a sharp fraction.
He cringed. "I mean... I understand now that doing it was wrong, and that I should've come to you, it's just... at the time," he tried to explain, "it, it seemed like what I had to do. I felt really awful about it," he swore, "like, like I was lying to you – and I don't want to do that Sharon, I don't. Your trust is really important to me."
She met his eyes, then, and the shame flared like a hot knife through his stomach.
"I see," she said at last.
He didn't think he'd ever felt that awful in his entire life.
"Sharon, I'm sorry."
The silent hum he received in return sounded so brittle it hurt. Sharon still looked like she was struggling to balance her disappointment with her shock. She joined her hands above the tabletop, her palms rigid against each other.
"Is that all?" she asked quietly.
"What...?" Was she trying to dismiss him? He wasn't ready to go. He wasn't done telling her how sorry he was. "No, Sharon..."
"Rusty, is that all you did?" she clarified, in the same restrained tone. "Did you take any other unsanctioned actions while you were volunteering that day?"
"No!" he swore. "No, I didn't, I promise, it was just..." He looked down again. "Just the background check. I'm..." He shook his head. "TJ told me not to do something like that, but... I..."
No matter how much he tried, he couldn't look away for long. When he looked back at her, she'd briefly closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose with a pained frown.
"Sharon..." But he didn't know what to tell her to make it better.
She lowered her hand and opened her eyes.
"You should've listened to TJ," she murmured.
"I know."
Sharon's head dipped in a sad sort of nod. For another long moment, she stared absently at the table, and Rusty could see the crease between her eyebrows deepening.
Her tone was wavering when she finally spoke. "I'm..." She trailed off, looked away, then took a breath and turned her gaze back to him. "I appreciate you telling me the truth, Rusty," she said slowly.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
"No, Sharon, I'm really sorry..."
She maintained eye contact with him, but didn't say anything. Even a second of silence, however, a second of her disappointment-filled silence, was intolerable. Rusty quickly tried to cover it with more apologies. "I'm sorry. I wish there was a way to fix this...but... I don't know how. Tell me what you want to me to do, Sharon," he pleaded, "and I'll do it, I swear. And – I'll never, never, do anything like this again. And..."
The silence, again.
"How do I fix it?"
"Rusty," she began, and when more silence followed he began to fidget. He was on the verge of another apology, when she continued: "I don't think I can talk about this right now."
He was about to agree to do exactly what she said, when her words sunk in. "But, Sharon–"
"Please, go to your room." Her voice was eerily calm and even. So detached from emotion that it sounded almost pleasant. But it was anything except pleasant.
"Sharon, I'm sorry. Listen – please..."
"Rusty, what I need for you to do is let me think." She hesitated briefly. "I'll make dinner." She stood up from the table, turning away from him and going into the kitchen. "I'll call you when it's ready. Afterwards we can finish this conversation."
"Sharon, I'm sorry."
She didn't answer, and instead opened the fridge.
"Sharon..."
"RUSTY!" It was a sound he'd never heard from her. She closed the refrigerator door hard enough for the glass inside to rattle. The noise only added to the surprisingly frightening image she made in that moment.
"I'm sor–"
"Do. Not. Apologize. Again." She enunciated each word carefully while her hand – her thumb and index finger forming an "O" (an odd thing for him to notice, right then) – emphasized each word in harmony. She'd only yelled a single word, but her face was bright red with the anger that radiated out of her in every precisely controlled movement.
He opened his mouth to apologize for apologizing, but quickly snapped it shut.
Sharon stared at him. Her lips pressed together tight, her nostrils flaring slightly, and a sharp, withering look in her eyes that made his chest hurt.
He didn't think he'd ever seen her this mad.
The silence settled again, but he gritted his teeth to keep from speaking. Especially since he didn't know what to say except apologize, and that didn't seem to be working very well.
"Damn it, Rusty."
It was practically a whisper. And if it hadn't been for the complete silence he probably wouldn't have heard it. But he did hear it, and he was sure he'd never heard her say that before. Ever. And he was equally sure that meant she'd never been this angry at him before.
Suddenly, his room sounded like a good idea.
Slowly, Sharon brought a closed fist to her face, obscuring her mouth. Rusty watched her take a deep breath. Followed by another. And another. The heavy silence had settled all around them. It was oppressive, and he would have fled to his room if he weren't so sure it would follow him.
It seemed like forever before she slowly lowered her hand. "I can't believe...I'm so angry at you." She'd turned her head away from him, but now turned back. His eyes began to sting when they met the raw emotion in hers. "And so, so, disappointed."
The words slid over his tongue before he realized he'd opened his mouth, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't going to make a difference when you're in jail," she snapped, before turning her face away again.
After a moment, she began moving around the kitchen. The way she moved was different somehow. Things seemed to make more noise than usual as she handled them. She opened the fridge at least twice without taking anything out, causing the glass to clink when she closed the door. He couldn't figure out what she was going to cook based on the pans and spices she was removing from the cupboards. He wondered if she'd make something he hated on purpose. His mom – his other mom – had done that when he was little. Before things had gotten really bad and she'd stopped making him something to eat all together.
Rusty began to realize why Sharon hadn't wanted to talk until later. It wasn't that she'd never yelled or snapped at him before. But it wasn't something that she kept up for long. In fact, she usually seemed to regret it instantly afterwards. This time even he could see she wasn't maintaining control very well.
There had been times when he'd first come to live with her that he'd tried to provoke this sort of reaction. Dr. Joe would probably say he'd been intentionally acting out to see just how far he could push her before she got tired of him, too.
He wished he could tell his younger self just how horrible provoking this reaction would be.
She slammed the spatula on the counter before turning to face him. She wasn't as loud as when she'd yelled his name, but she wasn't talking with her usual calm, either. "Do you have any idea what consequences you could be facing? What you did was not only – not only outstandingly dishonest," (he cringed at the disapproval in her voice), "it was illegal! You could go to jail! And even if you didn't serve time, you'd have a record that could follow you for the rest of your life! Do you understand that?"
She stood glowering at him, arms crossed. Apparently, she expected an answer now, but he wasn't sure what she wanted to hear.
"On the bright side, Stroh most likely won't break into jail to kill me...?"
At her withering look, he decided that tension-relieving humor wasn't what she'd wanted him to go for.
She seemed to abandon dinner preparations as she paced. "My God, Rusty. What were you thinking?! How could you knowingly engage in this sort of deception? And... what if Slider's defense attorney finds out about this?"
"Why would that matter?"
"I don't know!" She stopped pacing in front of the sink, and, placing both hands on the counter, she leaned against it. Rusty could see the tension in her arms and neck."I don't know," she repeated, more slowly, "exactly what ramifications your actions might have. Beyond taking advantage of the trust that everyone in the division placed on you, you committed a very serious act by misusing LAPD resources, AND contributing to the performance of an illegal background check."
Rusty stared at the floor. "I know..."
"I'm not convinced that you do," said Sharon grimly. "And – that's not even counting your original intention of meeting a potentially dangerous individual on your own! How could you even think about doing that, Rusty? How?" There were tears in her eyes again, and he couldn't bear to look at her.
"I'm s – I – I wasn't going to, Sharon!" His chin was trembling, making it hard to speak right. "I wanted to make sure... That's why I needed the background check..." His arguments sounded pathetic even to his own ears, now. "I made a mistake," he said plaintively. "I should've come to you... I should've asked you..."
"You should have." Her tone was thick, wavering almost – but her expression when she looked at him was determined. "I want you to understand, that going behind my back, planning to take such a – such a reckless, unnecessary risk with Gustavo Wallace," (Rusty could see her getting agitated all over again when she thought about it, and it only made him feel worse), "abusing everyone's confidence, these are all extremely serious matters. I am astounded at the poor judgment they seem to indicate." The force of her disappointment was almost palpable in her words. "I expected better of you, Rusty."
He almost wished she'd go back to the yelling.
"I know." He looked at the wood floors. He knew she didn't want to keep hearing it, but there was nothing else to say. "I'm sorry I let you down, Sharon." That was as much as he could get out. His throat was burning.
"I want you to go to your room," she said quietly, "while I make dinner. I think we both need some quiet time to think."
He nodded his acquiescence. Obviously she didn't want him there, and he felt too drained from their discussion to argue. Feeling the silence like a heavy weight around his shoulders, he began to shuffle toward his room.
"Rusty."
He turned back around, almost hopeful.
Sharon was fixing him with another worried look. "You are not," she instructed sternly, "to take any further action regarding this Gustavo Wallace, until I'm convinced that you can keep yourself safe. Is that understood?"
He nodded.
"I mean that, Rusty," she emphasized.
Rusty just returned another wordless nod. What did she think, that he was going to go to his room and call the guy to set up a meeting?
He supposed he hadn't really given her a reason to think otherwise.
It hurt down to the very center of his being, to know that Sharon wouldn't trust him anymore.
"I'll call you when the food is ready," she said in a low voice again, and, taking her words for the dismissal they were meant to be, he turned once again, and made his way down the hall, feeling smaller, wronger and more miserable than he had in a very long time.