Only three days here. Rusty stares up at the ceiling. He isn't comfortable here, almost like they're trying too hard. The room was nice. Like something out of a catalogue, but it wasn't his room. He doesn't pick his head up when he hears a soft rap at the door.

Hannah opens the door forcefully, glaring at the young man, "I called you to supper twenty minutes ago."

"And I told you that I didn't want any of your disgusting food." He mumbles mostly.

"Excuse me? No son of mine is going to-"

"I'm not your son, you old ugly bitch. They pull your face any tighter, you'll be eating out of your belly button." He leans up onto his elbows, "I don't think you realize how much I hate you."

"I will not stand for that kind of talk in my house. Is this from the woman you were with?"

"Sharon is ten times the woman you could ever try to be. You leave her out of it." Rusty growls.

"I think you could do without any contact with her. No phone, no computer. If I find out that you've disobeyed what I have just told you, I'll even take you out of that stupid Catholic school." She smirks, "I am the one who is in charge here and I will not allow you to dictate my life, nor yours." Hannah shakes her head, "Now, are you coming to the dining room to eat?"

"Go fuck yourself." His face remains stoic as he watches her walk away in a huff. Rusty rises from the bed and moves over to close his bedroom door. He begins taking his clothing from his dresser drawers, quickly stuffing them into his book bag, using another ruffle to put his laptop and school clothes into.

Russell silently opens the door, watching the boy scramble around the room. He glances in the hall for the presence of his wife and closes the door behind him silently once more, "Before you run away, can we talk?"

Rusty pauses in his tracks, "There is nothing you can say that will make me want to stay."

"You can continue to pack, just listen to me." He sits on the boy's bed, "In fact, I can help you if you'd like."

"Let me get this straight, you want to help me run away?" He turns, giving the man an odd look, "Your wife keeps calling me her son and you want to help me escape the evil bitch."

Russell sighs, "There is more to it than that."

"Is she crazy, yes. She already told me that I'm not allowed to talk to Sharon and she was going to take me away from St. Joseph's." Rusty shakes his head.

"Before your mother told us about her pregnancy, Hannah had a miscarriage. She was pretty far along. Twenty-two weeks. It was...very traumatic for us. She fell into a deep depression." He nods, "Your mother broke her news a couple days after we returned home from the hospital."

"I don't see what any of that has to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you." Russell watches his grandson, "Hannah hated that Sharon just...threw it in her face. She offered to raise you herself. Your mother didn't want that, and that was fine...I can understand how it would be weird for her."

"So you threw her out."

"No, we never threw your mother out. She left on her own accord."

Rusty swallows, hearing the honesty in the man's voice, "Were you and Mom close?"

"Yeah." He smiles softly, "She was my baby girl. I'd give the world up for her." Russell helps Rusty put things nicely into his bag, "I think it always made Hannah a little jealous."

"Why would she be jealous? You were her father."

"That's how Hannah is. She gets jealous any time I show affection to someone or something else. We had a dog once. Small, furry thing. She gave it away. Can you believe that?" He laughs a little.

Rusty smirks, "You married it."

"No, the woman I married was loving and caring. When your mother came along, she changed." Russell nods, "It got worse as the years went on."

"Then why did you stay with her?" He shrugs, "You could have divorced her. Gotten with someone that-"

"She is different when there is no competition. She's her normal self."

"She's driven your family away. I think that would mean more."

"She will always be my wife, Rusty." The older man sighs, "And no matter how crazy or outlandish she becomes, she will always be my wife. It's better to be with her than without her. I fear for her well being if I were to leave, and I love her a great deal."

"Okay." Rusty sighs, "Well, I don't really get what this talk is about then."

"I'm only saying that no matter how bad she gets, it doesn't change my feelings of you. You're my grandson. I couldn't wait for the day you were born. I'm happy to know you're safe, but I want you to be happy. You're never going to be happy while you stay here."

"And what then?"

"I'll deal with the ramifications." Russell nods, "I want you to promise me something though."

"Why should I promise you anything?" Rusty mumbles, finally finishing and sitting on the other side of his bed.

"Because you're my grandson and I love you."

"You don't even know me."

"Yes, I do. I loved you before I even met you." He smiles softly, "As weird as it sounds, I used to talk to your mother's belly. I bought you clothing, your first football." He nods, "I let your mother chose how to make you up a room. I got over the loss of my son...because I knew you were coming."

"Don't get all fucking sappy." Rusty mumbles, listening to the man.

"This...this right here, this was your mother's room." Russell continues, motioning to a small door in the corner of the room, "That was a larger door. It's just a crawlspace now, but it led to your room. Sharon liked that. She liked the thought of having you so close." He swallows, obviously thinking back to the young woman.

"When did she leave?"

"She was...thirty...thirty-two weeks. Something like that. She was sixteen. Her birthday was a month before. No sweet-sixteen. Hannah forbade it. Thought it was something that shouldn't be celebrated." He nods, "And she...Sharon was so upset." He chuckles a little, "Cried for hours. Could you imagine? Someone forgetting your birthday?"

"Yeah, I can. She stopped caring when I was four." Rusty answers quietly, "Sharon...Captain Raydor is the only one who has remembered it in...thirteen years."

He nods, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. I don't care."

"Yes, you do. Every kid cares." Russell nods, "I mean it, Rusty. Everything that happened to you because of your mother...I'm sorry. It could have all been prevented if I had just...If I just went out to look for her." He blinks, attempting to hold back tears.

"Yeah, well you didn't." He stands, "And here I am and there you are and you're fucking crying because...well, I don't really know why. Probably because my mother was an asshole. Seriously, an asshole, but she's dead now so...whatever." Rusty rambles, pacing slightly after putting his bags together, "I worked on the streets because it was easy. Did it before she left me. I had to. She didn't have a fucking job, usually too strung out."

"Rusty, I-"

"Can we just go?"

Russell nods, "Promise me though-"

"What?"

"Promise me that you won't shut me out. I...I'm not the enemy here. Neither myself or Hannah-"

"Don't tell me that bullshit. I'll talk to you and shit, but I'll be damned if I'm talking to her."

"Maybe in due time." Russell nods, "I'll help you carry your things." He says quietly, lifting the boy's large duffle bag containing his clothes.

"I'm going to send Sharon a message...see where she is." Rusty offers a quick smile to the older man.

Sharon tucks her hair behind her ear, attempting to concentrate on the presentation Sykes is attempting to give on presented evidence. The interview with their first suspect was a bust even though she thought it would be a done deal.

Provenza touches her on the arm when the young woman finishes, "Captain." He says when he notices her starring, "Captain Raydor."

Sharon jumps ever so slightly as she glances over, "I apologize, Lieutenant. It has...it's been a long day."

"I guess so, you've been here since five in the morning like the rest of us."

"I haven't been sleeping well, I suppose." She nods.

"Go on home then, Captain." Provenza nods, "We got it covered here. I don't know why you came back so soon anyway. Rusty has only been gone a few days. We would understand-"

"You should not need to understand anything, Lieutenant." Raydor answers loudly, then swallows catching herself when the officers throughout the murder room stop whatever they're doing to look at her. She nods, "Please, carry on."

Flynn rises from his seat, "Captain, can I see you in your office?" He could feel the tension in the room, anyone could. It could be cut with a butter knife.

She hears him, but doesn't look to the silver haired man, and nods absently.

Andy gently touches her elbow until they enter her office, closing the door behind him. He walks around the office, closing the blinds on all sides before he folds his arms staring at her, "Sharon."

Sharon licks her lips, shaking her head, "I go into his room at night and..." She can feel tears come to her eyes, "And he left one of his white undershirts...he left a few things, but he wore that to bed every night. It smells like him. I sound like a teenager with her first boyfriend, but this is...he was my son, Andy." She finally lets her teardrops fall, her hands shake slightly when she brings it up to her face, removing her glasses.

"I know." He fights the urge to hold her, comfort her any possible way he knows how, "Has he called?"

"No, he said he would, but he hasn't yet." She shakes her head, "I am certain Hannah Beck would make damn sure he had no ability to contact me in any way." She swallows, moving her hands to her hips as she gently shifts from one foot to the other.

"Alright, what if we did a routine visit to their house?"

"No." Sharon watches him, "No, it will...it has to be cut completely, the link. If he needs me, he needs me, he will find a way to...to get to me." She attempts to reassure herself, speaking with her hands.

"He will always come to you, Sharon. Don't worry, but you should let me take you home." Andy steps closer to her, "Where is your phone now?"

"I left it home, I caught myself checking the screen too often." She smiles a little, "Maybe he called and I didn't hear it, maybe I had forgotten to turn it on, things of that sort."

"Okay, well, how about you get your other things together and I take you home..."

"I have to be here, we have to find Sharon Beck's killer."

Andy shakes his head, "No, Captain, your head is out of the game. You need to go home and relax. Get your mind off of things."

"All I can think about there is Rusty...and how he isn't in his bed or in the kitchen trying to make something to eat...one of his own creations, he'd say." Raydor shakes her head.

"You're going to have to buck up. He was a foster. That is a temporary thing, Captain. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up."

"No, no, I did not." She watches him, "I didn't expect to love him, Lieutenant." An eerie quiet settles over the room as she attempts to calm herself and catch her breath, "I apologize...I must look like a mess."

"Nah. Just as beautiful as ever." Andy smirks, "Want me to help you get your things together?"

"Yes...that would be great. Thank you, Lieutenant." Sharon watches him, "And thank you for the compliment. It was unnecessary, but...thank you."

He shrugs, "I mean it." He puts some files into the drawers of her desk, handing her purse to her, "Was there anything else?"

"How am I going to get to work tomorrow?"

Andy shakes his head, "Stay home. We'll drop your car off later tomorrow to ensure that you won't come in the morning."

Sharon grins and bites her tongue, "What if there's an emergency?"

"In case of emergency, dial nine-one-one." He walks her out, to the parking garage.

Rusty grins to his grandfather as they climb into the car, "Sharon is going to be so excited. I know it. I mean, hopefully she'll take me back."

"That woman loves you, Rusty." Russell smirks to his grandson, starting the car. He begins to back up, but stops when he sees his wife in the rear view mirror pointing a large shotgun at the car, "Fuck." He whispers, pulling back into the spot. "Rusty, listen to me. Don't say anything to set her off."

"She has a fucking rifle." He swallows, looking forward.

"She collects riffles and other guns. It's a shotgun." He whispers, watching as his wife rounds the car closer to them.

Hannah grins to them, "So, where are you boys going without me?" She stands at Rusty's window.

The young man licks his lips in thought, "Ice cream. We were going to go get some frozen yogurt. Gramps was telling me-"

"Dad. Call him Dad." The woman corrects.

"Right, Dad was telling me about all the toppings and stuff. I've never had any before." He smiles nervously.

"And you always take all your things with you?"

Russell shakes his head, "Hannah, let the boy go. He's miserable."

"I don't give a shit if he's climbing the fucking walls, get in the house and go to your room. Take your things with you. If they are still in your bags in fifteen minutes, I'm shooting you in the leg." She nods to Rusty, backing up a little so he can get out.

The teenager moves quickly, picking up both bags as to not anger her anymore. He scurries upstairs, doing as he was told.

"What are you doing, Hannah?" Russell climbs out of the car, watching his wife.

"You were trying to take my son from me. That little bitch stole him from me all those years ago and now you're doing it again. Get in the house." Hannah glares.

"What are you-"

She pushes him a little with the neck of the shotgun, "Go."

"Okay." He nods, "Will you tell me what you meant?" Russell walks to the kitchen, then turns to face her.

"I told her it would be so much easier if she just give him to us. He was supposed to be ours anyway. He would be raised as her brother. I gave her an ultimatum, give us the boy when he's born, or leave this house and never come back. Obviously, she chose what she wanted to."

Russell stares at his wife, shaking his head slowly, "You're sick."

"Am I? That boy's life was ruined. His entire childhood was filled with abuse and neglect at the hands of that girl."

"She was your daughter!"

"No, she was your daughter. Not mine. She hated me."

"I guess so, you treated her like shit, Hannah." Russell straightens his back.

Hannah swallows, shaking her head, "I wanted my baby boy. I have him back now. You will never take him away."

"Okay." Russell nods, "It's okay, Hannah. Calm down."

She lets the shotgun down, "I've waited for him for so long." She whispers as they stand in the kitchen, tears trickle down her cheeks.

He moves to her, wrapping his arms around her, "Okay. It's okay. I know you don't want to hear what I'm about to tell you."

"He is mine, Russ. He's mine. He needs to be here."

Russell nods, "And he can come spend weekends with us or whenever he'd like, but we need to send him where he's happy...and he isn't happy here."

Hannah nods a little, "Is it my fault?"

"No, honey. He just has another family now. He's still our family. He will always be our family, but we can give him everything he's ever wanted, plus some." He kisses her cheek, trailing to her lips, "He will always be our grandson. Nothing is ever going to change that, but I don't want him to hate us."

"I don't want him to hate us either." She replies quietly, "I...really don't."

"Good." Russell kisses her temple, holding her closely, "Then let's make this right."

Rusty stands at the top of the stairs, listening to their every word. He swallows, unknowing of just how unstable the woman was, he sends Sharon another message just before hearing a large bang come from the kitchen.

Sharon nurses a glass of white wine in her hand, the stem falling between her fingers. She takes a sip before setting it onto the side table, next to the bed. She pads over to the closet, opening the wooden doors and peering inside. She smiles a little at the blue flannel shirt that Rusty had chosen during one of their shopping trips, pulling it from the hanger. He bathed in cologne before she taught him the importance of less is more. She unbuttons it, pulling it over herself. It instantly brought a sense of calm over her. Turning, she studies the sheets of the bed. She hadn't had the heart to change it back to the neutral colors the room was before the young man's presence. She smirks, picking up her glass once more and taking a sip before leaving the room. This wasn't her first glass of the night and she knew it wouldn't be her last.