What moves in the depth of darkness? Part 7

By the time Sharon Raydor drove home, done for the day, night had fallen and only a few cars were out. The street lamps glowed orange and the traffic stops was void of any other vehicles. If Sharon was lucky, she would be able to get an uninterrupted six hours of sleep before she had to be at work again. Her eyelids felt heavy and exhaustion was like cotton inside her head. If she was lucky, then she would fall into a deep slumber the moment her head hit her pillow. However, she also knew that despite tiredness, she would lay awake, thinking about the case and the mysteries it provided.

Rusty fell asleep on the way home in the passenger side of Sharon's Hyundai, and it was with both some joy and some sorrow she looked at him sleeping when the car was parked in the garage at her condominium. It was the complexity of balancing worrying and not worrying that overcame both of them, the situation with Stroh's escape was anything but ideal.

In quiet times, like now, she was struck by this overwhelming feeling, a knot in her throat, at the immense love she felt for this boy - her son now. When he slept, peacefully like this, he looked even younger than he was.

Sharon woke Rusty up with a gentle touch to his shoulder, and when he started to come to, she touched a finger to his hair and temple. Sharon smiled when his eyes fluttered open and he yawned wide, giving her a nice view of the interior of his mouth, his uvula visible.

Rusty mumbled something incomprehensible, the words sounding like home and something else.

Sharon answered him with a hum and then made her way out of the car, picking up her briefcase from the trunk. Rusty followed her silently to the elevator.

On the way Sharon realized she had Andy's leather jacket under her arm. It said something about her exhaustion that she had not thought of it earlier; she had mindlessly picked it up from the trunk and taken it with her, as if it were her own jacket.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, amused by herself. Granted, the jacket was nice.

As they stopped by the elevator, the button for the ground level pushed, she looked at Rusty. He was yawning again.

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know," Sharon told him, her voice low. The elevator cart set in motion and she could hear it as it descended to the parking level.

Rusty shrugged, "I don't mind. I got Pizza."

Sharon pursed her lips and hummed. The whole squad room had been permeated in the stale smell of fast food by the time she had made her way up from the morgue. The sight of the brown paper bag Rusty had held in his hands, the familiar logo of the salad bar they usually frequented on the side, had been a blessing.

Rusty gave her a sideways glance, his expression open and sort of pleading, "Sharon. You do so much for me, and I just wanted to return some of that. Okay? I mean, my study group starts late tomorrow because it's Sunday and I know how much you like that beetroot salad."

Sharon smiled and quickly reached out, squeezing his shoulder.

"I appreciate it very much, honey. Especially the beetroot salad."

Rusty smiled, "Yeah. I figured you would."

The elevator took them up and they stayed quiet for the ride, both of them too tired to come up with much. Once they reached the apartment, and entered, Rusty turned to her and offered, "You want tea before you go to bed?"

A few warm sips of tea sounded wonderful to her. She nodded and then proceeded to put her things down while her son went to the kitchen to make them some tea to sleep on.

"So, how's the case going?" Rusty asked as he waited for the water to boil.

Sharon leaned against the kitchen counter, taking off her shoes while she balanced against the counter.

"Slow," she hid a yawn behind her hand, afraid she was going to yawn so wide her jaw would become unhinged.

"Mmhm," Rusty continued to stare at her, waiting.

She gave a small shrug, "What?"

Rusty rolled his eyes in amusement, "C'mon, I'm sure there's more to it. It was all over the news throughout the day, speculating about this and that."

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. She had yet to actually watch the news but she was certain the media would be in frenzy about the disembowelment. Tomorrow she would have to make sure that some of the facts were kept quiet.

"We haven't made much headway yet. My victims are still without identity," she told Rusty.

Rusty reached for cups in the cabinet. "Have you ever like seen, disembowelment, before?"

Sharon shook her head, "No. This is the first, and hopefully last time."

"But like, Sharon, don't you think it's creepy?"

She gave a small smile and a nod, "Immensely. And it smelled awfully."

Rusty pulled a face.

Sharon yawned again.

Rusty gave her a long, worrying look, "You look tired."

Sharon rolled her eyes, "I am, yes." She waved in the direction of her bedroom, "I'll just go change."

Rusty nodded, "Yeah."

She gave him a brief smile before she forced herself to go to her bedroom, taking her briefcase and the leather jacket from the hallway with her. On the way, she tried to suppress another yawn but it only resulted in two yawns in close succession. Changing out of her clothes, Sharon contemplated the long day, from the dinner with Andy to the autopsy that did not make the case anymore comprehensible. She threw everything in the hamper for the laundry and found newly washed pajamas, the underlying scent of fresh detergent a comfortable fragrance. Even better, the sheets were new from yesterday as well. Sleep would be even more wondrous in clean sheets.

When Sharon came back to the kitchen, Rusty had both cups filled with tea, the warm scent of chamomile filling her nostrils when she took an apprehensive sip.

They both sat down on the couch, the silence and the feeling of being home, an encompassing feeling that spoke of familiarity and comfort.

"Sharon?" Rusty wondered out aloud after a beat of silence.

She hummed, her eyes closed.

"How do you like know, if you are like – you know… in love?"

That caught her attention. She opened her eyes and looked at Rusty. He was not squirming but close to it, his cup of tea forgotten on a coaster on the table. She tried not to smile too widely.

"Why? Is there someone you think you are in love with?" she smiled, her voice light.

"Maybe, I don't know," Rusty answered and then he reached out for the tea, hiding his expression as he sipped.

"Well," she started, contemplative, looking off into the night outside the windows to her terrace. What a comprehensive question to be asked, in the middle of the night no less. She was happy Rusty was comfortable enough with her to ask her such a question, but she was not sure she was the right person to ask. Last time she had been in love felt like an eternity ago.

When she looked back at Rusty, he was staring at her with an expression that looked more boyish than grown-up.

Sharon smiled gently at him, "It can feel very different from person to person," she pursed her lips, the vague answer not really helping Rusty much. She drew a deep breath and then volunteered, "Mostly, to me, it felt like an overwhelming – and exuberant – feeling." She clarified, "A sometimes very ambiguous feeling. Sometimes you simply know you're in love, and at other times, it takes some time to figure out your thoughts."

"Did you know with Jack?"

She heaved a small breath and then smiled, the corners of her mouth trembling slightly, "Yes. It was very, um, all-consuming in the beginning. It was inexplicable happiness, in the most absurd of moments."

Rusty nodded, "Okay."

"If you think you might be in love, then it might be worth exploring it," she smiled.

Rusty smiled, a small almost unnoticeable blush creeping up from his neck.

She decided not to poke too much at him; he looked both happy and apprehensive, and she knew if it troubled him, he would come to her.

"Being in love is a good feeling, all in all," she told him, smiling, and remembering back to those precious moments, that even if they felt like an eternity ago and were somewhat muddled by what had transpired since then, they were still somewhat preserved as good memories.

Rusty smiled back at her, the small 'yeah' leaving his mouth soft and low.

After the talk and tea, Sharon hugged her son close to her and whispered 'love you' in his ear before they said their goodnights and she made her way to her bedroom.

She stopped short when she noticed Andy's leather jacket on the bench at the foot of her bed. She took the garment up and put it in her closet next to a trench coat, the scent of the leather heavy and the feel of the leather on her skin rough. As such, the scent lingered in her mind and she was certain that it was the reason her dreams that night were vividly animalistic.

…