A/N: After months and months and months I'm finally back! I'm going to do my best to update this story, The Mighty Fall, and Little Slippers as regularly as possible. For anyone that's been waiting on me to update: thank you for your dedication!

~oOo~

It wasn't like I haven't talked to a psychologist before, but something about this felt so invasive. Justifying your actions in a shooting was nothing compared to baring your soul to a complete stranger.

I watch as the woman across from me continues to write in her notebook. It was starting to drive me insane, watching her and not knowing what she's writing.

"What are you…" I point to the paper and she looks up at me, her gray eyes trying to read me.

She offers a small smile before answering my question, "I'm taking notes." She replies sweetly.

"Dr. Mulford," I let out a sigh and look at her, "I'm fine. This is unnecessary, really."

"Sharon," she lets out a deep breath and runs a hand through her blonde hair, "I understand that you have a problem when it comes to asking for help. Which is why I'm not asking. I'm here to help you, please try and cooperate with me."

I let out a puff of air and lean back into the uncomfortable hospital bed, "What do you expect me to say?" I ask as I close my eyes, trying to keep myself calm.

"I want you to explain as best you can everything that's happened in the past few months." She tries gently, and it makes me want to wring her neck. She had no idea what I've been through, yet she thinks she can help.

I roll my eyes before responding sarcastically, "You have no idea."

"So give me one." Her persistence was truly starting to aggravate me.

"Fine." I let out a deep breath before sitting myself up in the bed, "My adopted son has what looks like terminal cancer and there's nothing I can do to help him. My best friend has been helping me to take care of him too and the clinical trial he was in," my voice starts to break and I swallow hard, pushing the tears back down, "it almost killed him. And Andy, he's trying so hard to be there for us, but I'm so scared." I admit quietly.

"When your son was diagnosed, what did you do?" She asks as she continues to write.

How is this relevant? "I took him home."

"And then what?" She prompts.

"Rusty went to bed and I just sat and cried and thought about everything." I say quietly.

"How did your son react to the news?"

"He seemed indifferent almost." I answer as I think, "But he's had a lot thrown at him so he's good at hiding his emotions."

"Did you ever try to talk to him about it?" The Doctor asks and I try not to sigh. Is she patronising me?

"We do, from time to time." I explain, "It's just difficult because he's tired so often and I'm working."

"What about your friend, you said his name's Andy?" She asks.

"Dr. Mulford," I sigh and close my eyes again, "I don't want to talk about Andy right now."

"You can call me Heather." She tries, "And if he's as fond of you and your son as you say he is, then his involvement in your life is important to me."

God, if there was one thing I don't want to talk about right now, it was him.I sit and think for a moment, my eyes following the crack on the ceiling tile as I tried to figure out what to say.

"I love him." I state quietly, watching as her gaze lands on me sympathetically, "He's done so much for Rusty and I, and things are so complicated between us right now and…" I let out another sigh, "And then I went to the beach and…" I wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.

"Tell me about the beach." Heather prompts, watching as my face fell.

"I don't know." I shake my head, "Andy says I'm lying but… I'm really not sure. I was just standing there and then I was walking into the water but I felt like I had no control over it. I tried to swim but my body wouldn't move and…" My voice breaks and I cover my hand with my mouth, trying my

hardest not to cry in front of her.

"What about…" she hesitates, "what you told Andy about your gun?"

Dammit. I take off my glasses and rub my eyes, trying to maintain my composure, "Whatever he made it sound like, it isn't."

"So then what is it?" She questions with a quirked eyebrow.

"I don't think," I start, toying with my hands as I look at her, "we understand how fragile life is until we don't have anymore." I explain, "And it's a surreal feeling, I think, to be able to hold a weapon in my hand and know it has the capacity to take a human life, but look at my son and know that his body is killing him, even though he looks harmless."

She nods her head and continues to write, "I absolutely understand." She says, a light accent to her voice. I'm surprised by her reaction and I shoot her a perplexed look.

"But what I don't understand is why you're so hell-bent on hurting yourself that you don't see that Rusty needs you. You're the one that should be with him right now, not Andy. You're the one that should take him to his appointments and talk with him to make sure he's okay, not Andy."

At that moment my door is flung open and I jump, surprised to see Andy standing there, his cheeks red and his clothes rumpled, "Doc I'm sorry to interrupt," he looks from Heather to me, "he's awake."

I can't help the tears that start streaming down my face, and the sob that escapes my throat. I extend my arms and Andy comes to me, wrapping me in a hug, "He woke up." The words come out quietly and I squeeze him tightly, afraid to let go, "Take me to see him." I ask.

He releases me from the hug, pressing a kiss to my forehead before running out of the room and down the hallway, shouting "Let me check with Marissa!" as he went.

"Well, Sharon," Heather says quietly, no doubt watching me as I tried to stop crying, "that's quite a development."

"It is." I respond with a watery smile when Andy returns with a wheelchair.

"I'll let you go." Heather stands and heads for the door, "We'll be in touch Sharon."

"Thank you." I nod, watching as she leaves the room. I immediately look to Andy, trying to keep myself from crying again, "Thank you." I breathe out quietly.

"You're welcome." He says as he presses a kiss to my hairline, "Now let's take you to see your son."

~oOo~

"Rusty, hi." I say quietly, reaching out and squeezing his hand. He slowly opens his eyes and looks at me, and I can't help but start crying again, "How are you feeling?"

"Like somebody drilled a hole in my head." He laughs weakly, "What happened to you?"

I bite my lip and glance to Andy. He shakes his head and I look back to Rusty, forcing myself to smile, "Nothing, I'm fine." I lie.

"Hospital gown and wheelchair don't really count as fine Sharon." He argues and I let out a breath, trying not to upset him.

"It can wait until later." I offer a small smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, "I'm so sorry I wasn't there." I say in a small voice and I feel Andy squeeze my shoulder from his place behind my wheelchair, "I should've been there."

"You were at work." Rusty responds, his voice sleepy as he closes his eyes and leans back in the bed, "You didn't know something was going to happen."

"I didn't." I pull my lips into my mouth in an attempt to regain my composure, "But from now on you're going to be my priority." I squeeze his hand again, watching as pain flashes across his face.

"No, Sharon." He says, "Don't worry about it. You have your job, that's more important."

"No, it's not." I responds strongly yet softly, thinking back to what Heather had said, "You need me, and I was too busy to notice. Nothing is more important than you. You're my son." I force a smile, even though his eyes are closed.

"I'm not supposed to be a problem for you though Sharon, not like this." He breathes out and more than anything I want to embrace him, despite the nurse telling me not to.

"What you are," I begin as Andy squeezes my shoulder again, "is not a problem, do you hear me? When I took you in, long before I adopted you, you became my son. And as your mother, it is my duty to care for you. Don't you think your brother and sister gave me trouble too?"

"Yeah," he laughs weakly, "but they didn't try and die on you."

So much for not crying. "Don't talk like that." I beg quietly as I squeeze his hand again, "You're going to be fine because you're a Raydor, and Raydors don't give up." I feel Andy's hand on my shoulder again and close my eyes for a moment before speaking again, "Raydors don't give up."

When Rusty doesn't respond I look to Andy worriedly. He points to the monitor beside the bed, the yellow line still falling and rising rhythmically, "He fell asleep." He starts to wheel me away when I respond quietly.

"Not yet. I want to stay with him." I look at Andy sadly, already knowing how he'll respond.

"I know sweetheart, I know." He offers me a sad smile, "But you're a patient too, you need to go back to your room. I'm sorry."

"It's okay." I force a smile before taking a shaky step out of my chair and placing a kiss to Rusty's forehead, "I love you Rusty." I whisper quietly before sitting back down and letting Andy push me away.

~oOo~

I couldn't stop thinking about it. The way Rusty seemed so small and fragile. I knew better than to comment on it, but he looked terrible. I want nothing more than to wrap him in my arms and protect him, but I can't, not yet. I glance up at Andy to where he is sitting in the chair beside my bed, his head held in his hands. I can tell he's deep in thought as well, and against my better judgement I decide to disturb him.

"Andy," he looks up at me slowly, his eyes red, "you don't have to stay with me. You can go to him." I offer what I hope is an encouraging smile but he shakes his head.

"I should be here with you." He sighs and rubs his eyes as he bows his head again, "Incase you need me."

"I'll be fine." I reach out and place my hand atop his, "You're like the dad he never had, he'll be glad if he wakes up and finds you there."

He offers me a forced smile as he weighs his decisions, "I can't stay with both of you at the same time." He breathes out, seemingly torn by the choices in front of him.

"Go to Rusty then." I try, knowing that's what he truly wants to do, "I'm fine, you don't need to worry about me." I try to look more confident than I feel, grateful when Andy leans in and gently kisses my lips.

"Okay, I'll go. But you text me if you need me." He says worriedly, "I mean it."

"I will, I promise." I say as he heads for the door, "Oh, and Andy," he turns and looks at me, now standing in the doorway, "thank you."

"There's no need for you to thank me. Now get some rest." He instructs before walking down the corridor.