On the drive back, Rusty listens to Amy's tirade about protocol and procedure and the way he totally blew it with one ear and exactly 9 percent of his attention. Another third is shifting to autopilot, conveying him in the direction of home without much conscious thought. The remainder is entirely focused on Sharon. Somewhere in the back, a tiny sliver thinks he should be worried about his mom... but the moment Amy broke the news about the man in the park being on their team he shifts from concern over her to a sudden anxiety to check on Sharon. She has to be okay; she just... has to be.

By some miracle (a virtual blessing of the traffic gods, really, considering it's rush hour in L.A.) he arrives home in good time without killing anyone or getting pistol whipped by Amy (although he sort of senses the thought as it crosses her mind). Grabbing his pack off the seat beside him, he dashes into the building without a backward glance, leaving a gobsmacked Amy in the backseat. Hopefully, she'll understand. If not, she can kill him tomorrow. Or just come upstairs and do it there; Sharon would probably help with the paperwork as long as he gets to hug her first.

Sharon is about to take a sip of her freshly brewed tea, relishing the relaxing scent, when the front door slams shut. Sneakered footsteps pad around the entryway, and she hears the familiar thud of Rusty's bag hitting the floor. The mug rings gently against the counter as she sets it back down, leaning forward to look down the hall at the pacing form of her son... ward.

"Rusty?" Her voice is soft but distinctly heard as he whips around to face her. His expression confirms it; something is wrong. Mom-sense and cop sense are combining in her head, compiling every possible scenario and solution, when he breaks into a jog and comes toward her, skidding to a stop an arm's length away. "Sharon, I... it... there was this..." His voice is cracking with emotion and strain, and his hands are plowing through his hair and gesturing futilely toward the door, and his sweet blue eyes are shimmering with tears.

"Shhh..." she soothes, stilling him with a hand on his cheek. The pad of her thumb gently strokes the apple as she wonders and worries and works on what to do next, when suddenly his arms are around her ribs and his head is pressed against her shoulder, turned to keep her hand on the other side as he curls into her. The slight tremor in his slender form has her other arm across his shoulders and holding him tightly before she can blink. He continues to shake, so she carries them into the momentum, gently rocking him back and forth in her arms as she lays her cheek on his hair and murmurs maternally in his upturned ear. "Shh... It's all right... you're safe... I'm here... you're all right... I'm here..."

They stay like that for a while until Rusty calms down and shifts a little, loosening his death clutch on her before tucking her shoulder under his chin. She mirrors the gesture, rubbing little circles under his shoulder blades, waiting for him to speak or pull away or... something. 'Something' is ultimately the knock on the door. Feeling the resurgence of tension in him at the sound, Sharon offers to let it go unanswered, or send whoever it is away. With a quiet snuffling sound, Rusty shakes his head, replying, "It's okay."

Pulling back a bit to regard him, Sharon sees that the worst has past and gives a slight nod before pinning him with a look. "But," she begins in a tone of quiet authority, "we'll talk later. Right?" The only negotiable point of this is the 'later', because she won't push him but they obviously need to discuss whatever sent him vaulting into her arms.

He nods back, looking at the floor with a soft "yeah." She gives his shoulders a firm squeeze and he releases his already slackened hold on her, only asking if he can get to his room and start his homework before she opens the door. They take the walk up the hall together and he retrieves his bag as she informs the person waiting she'll be just a minute.

The teen pauses at the threshold of his room, visibly swallowing before he looks at her again. "Sharon?" His voice is tentative and heartbreakingly young. "I, uh... I wanted to tell you... I mean, you should know-" He breaks off, still wrestling with whatever had sent him into the state in which he'd arrived.

"It's all right, Rusty." She saves him, and directs him into his room with a little shooing motion. When the door shooshes closed behind him, she whispers, "I love you too," and opens up to admit a glowering Det. Sykes.

A/N: well, I had to take it just a little further. Hope you liked it; whether you did or not... well you know the drill.