Alright. You got me. I got inspired enough to do it…

Sequel to A Little Light Music, Sharon/Andy, follows the events of season 2.5 with each chapter corresponding to each new episode. The last chapter will be in response to the final two episodes combined. Postings may be a little fractured in this festive season, but I've got a plan and I'm committed. Look at what you guys bring me to.

As always, my dedicated readers, I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think.

~No Work For Tinkers~

Chapter 1 : If Wishes Were Horses

He humphs, and slides onto the sofa, moving her outstretched legs over himself so that her knees rest over his lap as she reclines against the arm, a big pillow behind her back and her feet encased in her Ugg boots. She's long been in her sweats, and he would really like to join her. Her hand comes up to rub at his neck – at the little hairs there – as her elbow finds purchase along the back of the sofa. He hums and pushes his head into her hand, encouraging her, and she smiles at him.

"I think the patrol downstairs are starting to realise something is up with us. I brought them some doughnuts for the night, and the young one – what, Torres? – she winked at me. Winked! As though I was picking up at a bar or something"

She chuckles at him a little bit. "Oh honey", she sighs, patting his hair affectionately. "We both knew it'd get out some way. That's just the price we agreed to"

She sounds completely unworried, as though discussing the inevitability of turning leaves in autumn. This doesn't completely surprise him; since the increased threats of the letters, she's been far more concerned with how Rusty is feeling, and with maintaining a decent level of security, and not about some traffic kids getting rumour-worthy gossip about senior officers. At first he thought this strange of her, but she is first and foremost a pragmatist, and if there really was a problem with his constant visits then Taylor or even Emma would have said something. That neither of them have means they don't suspect or don't much care, or perhaps one of each. It's been a couple of weeks of increased security and so far not much of anything has changed.

Still, it doesn't displace the worry that lingers every time he walks out the door. She still won't tell him what was in the letters addressed to her, just that she'd had worse in her years in FID and that her main concern was Rusty. He's seen her shoot – he knows she's as capable as him at protecting herself and the boy – but the fact he can't move in to her place until this is finished sits like a stone in his gut. She may protect Rusty, but he wants nothing more than to protect her. She's so worried about everyone else, that he stresses she won't see danger to herself until it's too late. It makes him angry, and more than once she's had to pull him out of a bad mood.

But tonight he's just very tired after having been the first to a scene early that morning and run off his feet ever since. He groans again as her fingers start massaging his neck, and feels her sit up enough to plant a kiss against his cheek.

"You keep that up and I'll fall asleep right here" he mumbles, his eyes closed in comfort.

"And give young Torres more ammunition?" she asks with a smirk, her nails scrapping lightly.

"Like you said, they've got to talk about something, might as well be juicy"

She chuckles at him, light and soft, and then reclines back against her pillow as his hand runs up and down her calf in a motion much like her own on his neck. She hums, a contented little sound that he has come to love.

"I have my bag in the car, you know" he says. She makes an uncommitted noise – almost a hum, but not quite. He knows that she understands what he's saying without him saying it. "Say the word and I'll stay all night, Torres be damned"

"I know"

She's been so careful with how much he's stayed over, though really it doesn't make a difference one way or another. At first he'd offered to not stay at all; she'd made the case that it was as good as breaking up, since they could only see each other outside of work and she was bound to stay with Rusty and keep him safe. He couldn't stomach the idea of breaking up – or even going on a break until this was sorted – not after everything.

So here he sits, not sure he should stay but unwilling to leave; a cruel impasse only soothed by the surety of her touch lingering on the back of his neck, and by the weight of her legs over him. He's not going anywhere, not for the world.

"I wish you'd tell me" he whispers, his eyes still closed.

She shakes her head to herself and lets out a silent sigh. They've had this conversation countless times, and each time it's the same. She knows why he keeps pressing; knows he's just waiting for her to crack, or to catch her in a moment of weakness.

Honestly, she just can't tell him. She's been on the other side of this – she's been the one holding the ransom, waiting for more information, waiting to hear if he's okay or if she'll never see him again. She's been the one making the tough call about an operation that could save or could kill in equal measure. To put those thought in his head, and to show him the incredibly vague and yet immensely sinister letters; to allow his already angry mind to envision the many ways this writer wants to hurt her and Rusty is something she won't do to him.

If she could accept his comfort and have his shoulder, she would. But she can't make him carry that, no matter how much she wants to. She must remain in control, for herself and for her boy down the hall. Instead she leans forward again, places a palm on his cheek, and kisses him soundly. His hand tightens where it rests on her knee, and they stay there for a long while, lips touching and half entwined.

Rumours be damned, he'll be staying over tonight, and if Taylor wants to throw the book at them, so be it. If someone is going to hurt his new and tenuous family, then they'll have to go through two armed and pissed-off cops to do it.

They part when they hear the tell-tale click and squeak of Rusty's bedroom door, and listen as he pads frantically across the hall and into the bathroom. A moment later the toilet flushes and he re-emerges much more calmly, stopping in the hall. "Hi Flynn" he calls, before padding back into his room and closing the door again.

Andy can only laugh to himself, meeting Sharon's shining eyes.

"I feel so loved" he quips.

"You are – that's more than I get some days, and it's my house"

He only grins at her and shakes his head. "He still not talking to you?"

"We've had words. But I've yet to get a full sentence out of him since I revoked television privileges after the last slip"

"Does he get at all why he can't ditch his security?"

She shrugs and rolls her eyes while quirking her head. "I think he understands it logically. Mostly he just thinks I'm smothering him. I don't mean to imprison him in his own home"

He can only grin again and pat her knee. "Well then, can you at least point me in the direction of food? I'm starving, and I haven't eaten since lunch"

"Poor baby" she mumbles, hoisting herself up and pulling him up too. They walk together to the kitchen and she points absently to the fridge as she sets her kettle to boil. "See what's left over. We had pasta with meat in it, but I think there's some veggies and eggs if you wanted to make an omelette"

"I'll just have the pasta" he says quietly. She cocks an eyebrow at him and gives him a look. He only shrugs. "It's not like I can't eat meat, I just choose not to. One time won't hurt"

"Okay" she drawls. She still looks half suspicious at him. "Just don't go blaming me for altering your diet"

"Hey, I only went veg a few years ago, you're not altering anything. And besides, my doctor thinks that it might be good to reintroduce some foods every now and then"

"Okay then" she says passively, calming him. She's obviously too relaxed tonight to bother arguing, even in jest. Perhaps, he thinks, Rusty has had a good night and wasn't bugging her so much. Perhaps she's just in a really good headspace and doesn't want to leave it.

He puts his food in the microwave and presses a few buttons as the kettle starts to hiss. She grabs a used cup from the sink, already rinsed out, and a second cup from her never-ending cupboard that he swears is made of the same stuff and Mary Poppin's handbag, otherwise how else would she have a new mug every single day. He tells her as much and it makes her chuckle, and he takes that as a win.

He leans back against the bench as he watches her grab various teabags and sugar bowls from around the kitchen, oblivious to his watchful eye. This domestic Sharon is a rare creature – she often wears jeans at home, and hardly ever has her hair pulled back so haphazardly. He likes to watch her, so open and relaxed in a way she never is at work.

"You keep staring like that and you might set me on fire" she mutters, pouring the hot water into each mug.

"You set me on fire" he replies smoothly, wrapping his arms around her waist, careful to wait until the kettle is safely settled back on the stove.

She laughs at him - scoffs really – and replies, "Oh, you are full of some lines, you really are"

She doesn't resist him when he holds her tight and kisses her temple, one of her hands on his arm and the other absently dunking the teabag a few more times. They take a moment to just stand there. She feels so safe having him around. It's disconcerting to feel such a need after half a lifetime alone. She didn't expect to have such a fundamental part of her change when she allowed herself to let him in, but change it did. Now she can't imagine not having someone to share these quiet and intimate moments with.

"I just want to wrap you up in bed and not let you out until this creep is found" he whispers into her hair. He's lost some of the anger of before, and in its wake there is only frustration and a fair amount of vulnerability. She sighs against him. She knows what he means. It's so annoying – really annoying –to have to carry on as though nothing is wrong when there could be any number of dangers around the corner. She wishes these threats would either come to fruition or go away; this waiting is really starting to piss her off. It's not an enemy he can fight for her, and she knows that adds to his angst. She loves him more for taking on that worry, even though he shouldn't have to.

She turns in his arms, kisses him softly, and then steps away and gestures to his tea, taking hers in the process. "Come join me on the couch before lights out"

He nods and follows her, and they fall onto the couch together, side by side, both flicking their feet onto the coffee table. He throws an arm around her shoulders and she sighs against him. Without the radio or television on they can hear the faint strains of Rusty's music floating down the hall from his room. She'll knock on his door to get him to go to bed when they do. As it is, he should be going to sleep, but she's not about to enforce the lights-out rule in his room under the current circumstances.

They sip quietly at their drinks for a while, and it feels very content, despite knowing there are at least four police surrounding her building at any one time.

"So, has he said it again?" he asks after a while.

"What, Rusty?"

"Yeah"

"Said what?"

"You know…" he says, waving his hand about near her ear, the other still holding his cup. She takes a moment to understand his meaning, and then suddenly she's grinning to herself, her lips pursed and her eyes shining at the happy memory. He had taken her so much by surprise that sometimes she's sure she must have dreamt it. But she hadn't.

"Not since the other day, no he hasn't. Honestly, I don't expect him to. That was big enough as it is without me adding pressure"

"Sharon, the boy adores you, and he knows what you do for him. Are you really so surprised that he told you he loves you, finally?"

She smiles again at the explicit mention. "Well yes, a little. At least that he said it outright. I don't doubt his feelings; I'm just shocked that he was so open with me when he's been clinging so hard to his mother"

Andy rocks her closer with his arm, and plants a kiss against her hair. "You are his mother. In every way that counts, you are his mother"

She hums at him with a smile. She knows that. And she knows that Rusty knows that, at least in his way. Lately she's been thinking of him as her son – no caveats or conditions, just 'her son', like he's always had that little piece of her heart. Perhaps a little bit different to Ricky, who fed at her breast and took first steps in her arms and called her 'Da' for a few weeks as an infant. But Rusty is her son nonetheless. She couldn't love him more if he was her flesh and blood. It makes her feel positively giddy to know he loves her right back. Perhaps one day she'll have the right way to show him just how much he means to her. She hopes he doesn't think her love will end when he hits eighteen, because he doesn't have to go anywhere, and her love for him is unconditional.

"I wish his life was so much easier" she mutters. "-that he didn't have to go through any of this"

"Everything that's happened to that boy has led him here, to you. It's a sacrifice, but you are worth it. You two have each other now"

"I can't be grateful for the life he lived before he came to me" she says, thinking again of all the horrible details Rusty would never –could never – tell to her face, but that she knows anyway.

"No, maybe not. But you can at least be thankful that he's here now"

"Oh I am. Believe me. This Thanksgiving all I could think was… well, you know"

Andy rocks her close again and nods. "Did you have any more luck with that therapy business?"

"I think so, I found a Dr Bowman who looks promising. He lists unconventional and 'fun' activities as his way of getting patients to open up. Since this is just an evaluation, if he's willing to play chess then he might be just what Rusty is looking for"

"The kid up for it?"

"The kid doesn't have a choice" she quips, pulling herself off the couch and taking both their mugs to the kitchen. Andy just smirks at her and shakes his head as he follows her half way and stops by the table. "I'm hoping that if these sessions go well then it might inspire him to continue to talk with someone about his past, but even if it doesn't, I still think the evaluations can do him some good"

"Well, you know best" he mutters at her back as she puts the dishes in the dishwasher. She only straightens and smirks at him, then walks around the bench.

"So, about your bag that's in the car…" she says, a sly look on her face.

"Okay, so maybe it's that one by the door"

"Maybe?"

"And maybe I brought it up with me when I first came inside"

"Mmm. And how did you get inside, by the way?"

"I might have used the spare key you gave me when you had the locks changed"

She's outright grinning at him now, walking slowly backwards towards her room with her tongue resting against her teeth. She manages to turn the lights off as she goes without missing a beat. She turns around and disappears down the hall as he collects the bag from the front door. He hears her knock on Rusty's door, poke her head in to say goodnight, and then a moment later Rusty is at the doorway. They are speaking lowly to each other, so he can't quite make it out, but he sees that the boy is frustrated and Sharon is understanding, and it's probably the same conversation they've had a million times before.

She sighs, a sad little sound that Andy hears despite himself, just before she wraps her arms around Rusty's shoulders in a protective hug. "I just wish I knew how to keep you safe" she says, and Rusty only buries his face into her shoulder, shrugging in response. They all know that if things could be different they would be – that if Sharon had another answer she would tell him and take away his burden. It's hard enough as it is for her to contemplate option three, knowing he could be put in harm's way.

They mutter a few more words to each other and she places her hand briefly on his cheek before he spins around and disappears into his room again, the door closing behind him. The music turns down a second later.

"So, does that mean I'm on the couch, or-"

She cuts him off with a firm kiss, her hand behind his neck, and takes his hand to lead him to her room, both smiling all the way. Despite the encounter in the hall she's still in good spirits, buoyed by his presence and the security surrounding them. She pulls him lightly in the direction of her door.

"Oh, so your room then"

She just chuckles at him and closes the door softly behind her as he starts kicking off his shoes. Most days now he worries about them both, but there are some select moments when he doesn't have a single care in the world. Sharon Raydor taking her hair tie out with that particular look is one of them.