NewNumbertwo

Fic: Omerta: Chapter Three

newnumbertwo — Fri, 13 Nov 2015 15:51:34 GMT

Title: Omerta: Chapter Three
Rating: T
Word Count: ~4300
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Pairing: Bill/Laura/Saul (eventually)
Summary: Fastforward several years to Laura's and Bill's journey to Galactica for the Decommissioning Ceremony.
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta. Posted in honor of fragrantwoods' birthday. Happy Birthday!
A/N2: First chapter
Laura sat between Billy and Bill. Billy had filled her in on the details, impressing her already, and it was only his first day. She’d made another good personnel choice; her father would have been proud. She turned to Bill. “You excited to see the Old Girl? After all these years?”

Bill nodded. “I have a lot of fond memories of her.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke. “My first love.”

She patted his arm. “You ever regret it?” At his confused expression, she added, “Not re-entering?”

He was quiet a moment, but she knew he was carefully considering. “The whole time I was on that freighter, all I wanted was back in the fleet. Doing something that mattered.” He met her eyes. “But I met your father - and you - and realized I didn’t need the fleet for that.” He winked. “Besides, you know I don’t do regrets.”

She smacked his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah. I think you’re full of crap.”

They shared a laugh.

“Too bad Zak couldn’t join us.” Bill glanced at her pointedly. “His boss is a slavedriver.”

“Hey, I encouraged him to come with us. He wanted to man the fort.” She sighed. “Maybe he didn’t want to see Lee.”

Bill grunted. “I doubt we’ll have a happy reunion.”

She stroked his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He covered her hand with his. “Not your fault. He just...he doesn’t understand. And he’s like me at his age. Only without the benefit of your father’s guidance. Or yours.”

“He could have that. You. Me.”

He shook his head. “In his mind, that would have meant betraying his mother. And I understand. Even if he is wrong.”

She squeezed his hand.

“But Zak is coming along nicely. He’ll be a fine Caporegime,” said Bill.

She smiled. Zak had made his choice as soon as he’d come of age. He loved his father and what was more, he’d idolized him, had wanted to do everything Bill did. Bill had brought him into Laura’s office the day after his twelfth birthday.

Bill in miniature lowered his head. “Guatrau.”

She reached out her hand for him to kiss. He took it into his still-growing hand and kissed it gently. “What can I do for you, Zakary?” she asked.

He met her eyes and held. He’d obviously been well coached. “I’d like to work for you, ma’am.”

She smiled. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Yes, he will,” Laura said.

“What about you? How’d your appointment go?”

She sighed. “We’ll talk about that later, okay?”

He nodded. “I’m just glad I finally convinced you to go.”

She hmmed. “Me too.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

They docked inside Galactica’s landing bay. The three of them exited the Colonial Heavy in time to be welcomed over the intercom. Commander Tigh stood at attention in front of the door. When Laura stepped down the last stair, he approached. “Madam Secretary.” He reached out his hand.

She shook his hand. Two pumps. “So nice to finally meet you, Commander.”

“Likewise, ma’am.”

She introduced him to Billy and Bill. Tigh’s eyes twinkled when he glanced at Bill. Bill smiled slightly. He didn’t want to give too much away in front of Billy and the others, and he was proud that Saul had caught on to Laura’s subtle cue. Tigh shook each of their hands. Saul’s hand had smoothed a bit. Command had been good to him, it seemed. Though a few calluses remained. Once a mechanic… He’d lost his hair, but otherwise he looked good. Strong. Sober.

Laura caught his eye with a wink when Tigh turned to guide them to their quarters. Bill smirked. He’d been caught and there was nothing he could do about it. He just hoped she showed some mercy.

Laura and Bill walked quickly to keep up. Billy’s footsteps became fainter and fainter until they were gone - if the boy got lost, Bill would retrieve him once she was settled. She and Tigh chatted about networking. They were cordial enough at first, but then Tigh dug in deep about how networking was a lot like how the Cylon War had started. Bill and Saul were two of the few people who truly knew what it was to fight machines that could outthink them. So he had to agree that networking was a bad idea. But still, Laura’s request seemed reasonable enough. And on a decommissioned ship, what was the harm?

Tigh said, “Listen, lady, I’ve seen a lot of good men and women get killed because hoity toity folks like you wanted to make things easier. Not here. Not now. Not ever. We do things the hard way on Galactica and we’re better for it.”

Laura’s shoulders rotated as she said, “Yes, sir.”

She was obviously preparing for the long haul, letting Tigh think he’d won.

They continued along the corridors in silence until Saul said, “You’ll be proud of your boy, Mr. Adama. Captain Adama will be flying my old Mark II during the airshow.”

“You still have the old bird?”

Saul snorted. “Nah. Thought she was destroyed and lying in a junk heap somewhere. And she was, until my deckhands found her and repaired her.” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, she’s been tested. We wouldn’t endanger our DCAG for a frakkin’ ceremony.”

Bill nodded. “I’m sure he’s honored, Commander.”

A pang of irrational jealousy ripped through his chest. If only he could reach his oldest son. He’d never had this much trouble with Zak. Sure, he’d had to give him a talking to occasionally, but then Zak had been made, and he’d blossomed, especially under Laura’s leadership and mentoring. Bill and Carolanne may have laid the groundwork for him, but it was really Laura who had raised Zak, made him the man he was. Lee, on the other hand, had rebuked Bill on every turn, and then he’d rebelled.

Bill would have laughed if it wasn’t so painful. His son had rebelled exactly the way he had - by joining the fleet. Perhaps there was still hope for them. Regardless, he would be proud of Lee’s success. Serving the Fleet, living by its Oath, that was honorable. Every bit as much as Bill and Laura’s Code.

Tigh showed them their quarters. He and Billy would share, and Laura was right next door. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Tigh said. He glanced at Laura. “No hard feelings, Madam Secretary.”

She smiled. “None at all, Commander. I appreciate your honesty. So rare in my line of work.”

Tigh snorted. “Mine too. Not here, but when I gotta deal with the bureaucratic bullshit.” His eyes widened, as he realized what he’d said. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course.”

Tigh glanced around. “Wonder where the kid got to.”

Laura laughed. “I’m sure Billy will turn up.”

“Battlestar ain’t that big,” Tigh said.

“We’ll see you at the ceremony,” Laura said, as she entered her quarters.

Tigh glanced at Bill. “Good to see you again.”

Bill nodded. “You too, Saul.”

Bill stepped inside his quarters. Even though he would be sharing, the room was still much larger than what he’d had as a Viper Jock. After nearly forty years, he’d finally made it back. Just in time to see the Old Girl off.

He unpacked the bag someone on the crew had placed on his rack. He hung up his suits, taking exactly one half of the closet. The picture was protected in bubble wrap in the front pocket - he and the boys on the front steps of the Roslin house. He unwrapped the frame and ran his finger along the photo. Laura had taken the picture. It had been during his weekend with the boys, and Laura had given him the day off, suggesting they go to the water park since it had been the hottest few days on record, on Caprica at least. When they’d returned, Bill had brought the boys to the Roslins to thank them, especially Laura. She’d suggested the photograph, and then she’d taken it herself. It was one of the last times he’d ever seen Lee smile, at least in his presence. It was a good day. Good memory.

A knock on the hatch.

“Come in.”

“I’m seeing a new side of you, Adama,” Laura said. She kicked off her shoes as she walked, stepping up to his rack. “What’s that?”

He showed her the photo. “Remember this?”

“How could I forget?” She grinned. “Three handsome Adamas. Seriously good genes in your family.”

He snorted. “I remember how upset you were when you realized what it meant for Sam to be married to Larry.”

She tilted her head. “For a moment. Then I saw how deeply they loved each other.” She gazed into the distance. “If only everyone could have what they had, what my parents had.”

He sighed. “So what brings you here?”

“Tigh. I knew you had history. But gods, I never knew that.”

“What?”

She quirked her brow. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The sparks between you could light this room.”

He snorted. “I saw different sparks.”

She grinned. “What can I say, he has charisma.”

Aside from his awareness of her girlhood crush on Sam, he’d never heard her admit to being attracted to anyone before. She’d dated off and on since she’d been made. She’d always been careful of potential power plays from other families disguised through suitors and of breaking Omerta by revealing too much to an ‘outsider.’ So it had become easier to simply not date, or so she’d said, with a casual shrug, any time the topic had come up. But in the space of two minutes, she’d revealed more of herself than she had her whole life.

The Guatrau was right, as always. They were seeing new sides of each other.

“What shall I wear, Bill?”

“I don’t remember what you packed.”

She ticked through the outfits in the shorthand they’d developed over the years.

“The green-cream suit, I guess.”

She laughed. “Doesn’t sound very enthused.”

“You’ll look fine. I just…”

“What?”

“I miss your old outfits. And your hair.”

The short dark locks weren’t her. He’d never run his fingers through her long flowing auburn ones, and that was a lost opportunity he mourned.

“It’ll grow back.”

“What about Adar’s PR guy?”

“President. Adar. Has other things to worry about now.”

“The teachers’ union.”

She nodded. “And the implications of negotiating.”

He grinned. “Well played, Madam Secretary.”

“Thank you, Mr. Adama.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

There was another knock on his hatch. He called for his latest guest to enter. The hatch opened to reveal Billy.

Bill grinned. “You made it.”

The boy blushed. “Sorry, sir. Madam Secretary isn’t...she’s not mad, is she?”

Bill shook his head. “Not at all. She’s getting ready now. I suggest you do the same.” He clapped Billy’s shoulder. “I got lost my first day here too.”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it.”

He told Billy about his earliest experiences. How arrogant he’d been before he’d learned what was what. Galactica had made him a man, had shown him the best and worst of humanity, and had made him strive to be better.

“The crew seems nice,” Billy said. He blushed again. “I sort of ended up in their washroom.”

Bill winked at him. “Yeah, I remember that too.” He chuckled. “It doesn’t take long to forget, though. And there’s a pretty strict etiquette.”

“I probably broke it.”

Bill laughed again. “They can take it, I’m sure. Someone helped you.”

“Yeah. She thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

Billy nodded. He glanced past Bill to his bag lying on the rack. “That’s mine, I guess?”

Bill showed him to the closet, and Billy hung his suits in the free half. Then he pulled one out. “Think this is okay?”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, you’ll look great. Sharp.”

Billy sighed in relief and went into the head to change. Bill shook his head. The kid would need to loosen up a bit; he was too nervous for his own good. Laura would figure it out, though. Help him along. It was what she did best.

“Bill, is Billy back?” Laura called from the other side of the hatch, as though he’d summoned her. Not a bad gift to have at all.

He opened the hatch. “Yes. And no worse for the wear.”

She nodded. “Do I look okay?”

Of all the outfits he’d seen her wear, it wasn’t his favorite, and he knew she didn’t much care for it either. But it would do. “Beautiful.”

She smiled shyly. Her cheeks flushed a faint pinkish hue before returning to normal. “Thank you.”

Before he could respond - or say anything else, there was yet another knock at the hatch. “I forgot there was no privacy on a battlestar,” he muttered. Laura giggled at that. “Yes!” he said to the hatch.

“Can I come in?” Tigh asked.

He and Laura exchanged glances, and then he said, “Sure.”

The hatch swung open. Saul took one look around and said, “It’s crowded in here, ain’t it?”

“And there’s one more in the head,” Laura said.

Saul snorted. “Maybe I should have given you the bigger quarters, Bill.”

Laura mock glared at him before laughing.

“Anyway, Bill, since your boy is DCAG and one of our top pilots--”

“One of them?” Bill raised a brow.

Saul shrugged. “In our last war games, another pilot beat him out.” He shook his head. “She’s a pain in the ass and insubordinate. Spends more time in the brig than out of it, but she’s a damn good pilot.”

Bill chuckled. “Sounds familiar.”

Saul clapped Bill’s back. “Until you shaped me up. Anyway, I figure you and Lee could get a photo op for the press. Father and son both served on the same battlestar. Makes a good story, you know.”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He caught Laura’s eye, and she smiled. “Where do you want me?” he asked Saul.

“Mind if I take him away, Madam Secretary?” Saul asked, a gleam in his eye.

She smirked. “Just so long as you bring him back. And in one piece preferably.”

Saul snorted before chuckling. He led Bill out of the quarters. When Bill started out through the hatch, Laura squeezed his arm. He nodded, then followed Saul. The way became gradually more familiar as the years seemed to fall away until he was that young rook reporting to his CO the first time.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Saul led him to a room he didn’t remember from his youth. Lee was inside, in his dress blues, surrounded by the PR folks, including that annoying Doral in the really awful blue suit. He met Lee’s eyes as he stepped farther into the room. His son looked good, strong, and every bit the viper jock Fleet poster child. Bill felt Lee’s anger, as though it could reach out from Lee’s eyes and punch him.

Doral, however, was oblivious to their exchange, or perhaps he wasn’t. “Can we get a few photos of you together?”

Doral used every bit of knowledge he possessed in public relations, whatever they taught in university for that, to arrange Bill and Lee in front of the ship’s seal. “Could you stand a little closer, maybe?” he asked.

They complied. Bill fought the urge to wrap his arm around his son, and Lee obviously forced himself to remain in the position, to not run away. If Doral was satisfied, Bill didn’t know, but the man snapped a few photos without issuing any further directions. Then he and his crew left the room, and for the first time in two years, Bill was alone with his oldest son. “How are you, Lee? You look good.”

Lee nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Commander Tigh keeps me in shape. He runs a tight ship.” He glanced at the hatch. “And I should get back to work.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

Lee shook his head. “The Commander only ordered me here for a photo shoot. Not a heart-to-heart with my old man.” He met Bill’s eyes. “And I have nothing left to say to you.”

“How’s your mother?”

“Getting remarried.” He sneered. “Like you care.”

“That’s not true.” Bill shook his head. “Your mother and me, we just didn’t--”

“--Did you ever even try?! For a second? No, you weren’t there. Ever. And then just when she was getting over you, you took Zak, and made him like YOU. And that woman.”

“That’s not fair, son.”

Lee’s body shook. “No, it isn’t. It’s never been fair.”

He stormed past Bill and out through the hatch. Bill sighed. Then he followed his son out of the room. Like so many times before, he needed counsel.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Laura sat down after her speech. It seemed to have gone over okay. There had been the requisite polite applause as she concluded. She glanced at Bill. “Okay?”

He nodded. “Perfect.”

No, it hadn’t been, but it had hit the notes Richard had wanted, and for now, she was his representative. Education, honor, glory, war history. All in a polite package, perfect for a man in the middle of a campaign. Instead of doing his job, he was too busy trying to keep it, when he hadn’t truly earned it in the first place. Still, she smiled. Her role was nearly at an end.

Bill tapped her shoulder. “Okay?”

“Never better.”

He didn’t drop his hand. Instead, he snaked his arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his touch and listened to the other speeches.

Commander Tigh gave the closing speech. It was everything hers hadn’t been - from a man who didn’t need to kiss any more ass. He spoke of sacrifice in war, the costs that were too high but necessary evils. Of his hopes for Galactica’s future. And that this generation - and the next - would never have to witness the horrors he had, because he didn’t think they’d be strong enough to handle it, especially not with the budget cuts to the military and the pervasive automation. It was gutsy, and right on so many levels.

As Tigh stepped away from the podium, there were confused stares. Laura, however, wasn’t confused. She was moved for the first time since entering politics. She clapped and put as much feeling as possible into each movement. Bill and Billy followed suit, and then everyone else joined in. Tigh sat down and winked in their general direction.

Doral thanked everyone for coming and the crew for all the work they’d done - both for the Fleet and the Colonies and for the ceremony. Then he dismissed everyone into the Mess for dinner.

When they arrived at the Mess, Laura walked by the buffet tables and sat down. Bill and Billy followed her. “Laura?” Bill asked, as he sat beside her.

“I’m not very hungry.” She smiled. “You know me and speeches. I’ll be fine.”

“Go on up, son,” Bill said to Billy. “And bring back an extra sandwich.” He snorted. “The boss doesn’t refuse food when it’s in her face.”

Billy nodded and entered the chow line. Tigh saw him and granted him “VIP access” to the front. Bill and Laura watched him maneuver through the buffet. “He’s a good kid,” Bill said.

Laura nodded.

“Now, are you gonna tell me what’s really bothering you?”

She shook her head. “Later. I promise.”

He patted her arm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

“You always do.”

Billy returned with two plates. He placed a full one in front of Bill. “Here, sir. Wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got everything.” Bill nodded. And Billy handed the sandwich plate to Laura. “Is turkey okay?”

“It’s fine, Billy. Thank you.”

He nodded, his relief palpable. The poor kid had probably heard “nightmare” stories about her, none of which were true, of course, but her more veteran staffers liked to frighten the freshly hired ones. And it was amusing enough that she didn’t put a stop to it.

“I wasn’t sure if you preferred mayo or mustard, but my mom always said, ‘mayo with turkey, mustard with ham.’”

She smiled. “My mother said something similar.” She picked up the sandwich. No sense in letting a fresh kaiser go to waste. She took a bite and inwardly laughed as her boys watched her. She swallowed. “Now, go get your plate,” she said.

And Billy was off again.

“When are you going to tell him you aren’t a monster?” Bill asked.

She smirked. “I’ll let him find that out on his own.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was once again between Billy and Bill. Billy was fighting sleep. She patted his shoulder. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’ll wake you if you’re needed.”

He nodded and closed his eyes.

Bill chuckled. “Reminds me of when Zak first started.”

She smiled. Zak truly had been Bill in miniature. And when he’d first been made, he’d approached her with cautious wonder. It was so much like Bill had been when he’d first sworn allegiance to her father. Bill who had joined the Fleet during the war to repudiate his father and the Ha’la’tha, to find his own sense of honor, his own code. But the Fleet had chewed him up and spit him out. It had used him, trained him, shaped him into one of the best pilots in the history of the Colonies, but after the war, it’d had no further use for him. His family had needed him, though. Her family had needed him. And she couldn’t imagine life without him.

Bill had taken to Edward like a fish to water, and he’d never looked back. It had been much the same between she and Zak. Before she’d left for Galactica, she’d told him, “The gods didn’t see fit to make me a mother. But if I could have chosen a child, I’d have chosen you.”

Zak raised his head ever so cautiously, but he couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading across his face. “Guatrau,” he said, and he reached for her hand and kissed it.

“You’ve watched me and your father for years now. I want you to continue to do so, but when we come back, I’m going to want you by my side constantly.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Learn well, Zakary, for all of this will be yours.”

He kissed her hand again and squeezed it. “I won’t disappoint you.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “You never have.”

Billy had that same wide-eyed wonderment. The drive to please, and to learn his job, to do it well. She squeezed Bill’s hand. “He really does, doesn’t he?”

Before he could respond, a wave of nausea overcame her. She jumped up and went to the head.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When the hatch clicked shut, she took a deep breath and popped the top of her jacket just enough so she could peer into her blouse. She’d been looking there so much of late. More than ever. For all her power, even she couldn’t will it away, so she gazed with the faint hope it would leave of its own accord, much like it had appeared.

The nausea subsided. The doctor had said to expect panic attacks periodically. But he hadn’t specified just how bad they would be.

She went to the sink and splashed some cold water on her face. She glanced in the mirror and cringed at what the stylist had done to her hair. She longed to run her fingers through her red locks again at least one more time before…

A knock on the hatch. “Laura?”

Bill. A bathroom in an airplane was not the place for this conversation. She didn’t know exactly where the best place for that would be, but it certainly wasn’t there. “I’m fine. Be right out.”

Silence. But it was false; he wouldn’t leave so soon. “I’m coming in.”

She had just enough time to fix her jacket before he entered.

She forced a smile. “See, I’m fine. Now let’s go before Billy wonders where we are.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me.”

She shook her head. “Not here. Not now.”

“Where? When?”

“I don’t know.”

He met her eyes. “It’s...it’s what we feared, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“And…”

“And there’s nothing to be done. I waited too long.”

A tear slid down her cheek, followed by another, and another. Then Bill was holding her and she let go, unworried about getting his suit wet.

When her breathing returned to normal, Bill wiped her eyes with his hands. “Better?”

She nodded.

He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you home, then. You were saying something about Billy, I believe.”

She slapped his arm. “It’s too late to worry about that.”

And she didn’t really care.

As they returned to their row, he held her arm, giving just the right pressure. But as they moved farther along, there were hushed tones and whispers, then she heard the pilot speaking. She could just make out his last sentence when they reached their seats, and then he stopped and returned to the cockpit. Billy was awake, by then, and as she climbed in between them, she asked what was going on.

The pilot had been polite, calm, and very vague, so Billy didn’t know much. She exchanged looks with Bill, who had been glancing out the window. He frowned. “My son is following very closely on our wing. That’s not normal for a ceremonial escort.”

She nodded and stood up. She patted Billy’s shoulder. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

Fic: Omerta: Chapter Two

newnumbertwo — Fri, 06 Nov 2015 15:39:07 GMT

Title: Omerta: Chapter Two
Characters: Bill, Laura, OCs
Rating: T
Word Count: ~2400
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Bill and Laura continue to adapt to her rise in power as Guatrau.
A/N: Posted in honor of afrakaday's birthday. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta.
A/N: First Chapter

The house had been fully converted into a place of service and celebration. They should have been celebrating the christening of Edward Roslin III, but that wasn’t to be. The dining room was loaded with fresh breads and pastries from the bakery, meats and cheeses from the deli, carved roasts from the butcher. Everyone, it seemed, had wanted to contribute something, to celebrate the lives of Edward Roslin and two of his daughters. Whether they knew him as Guatrau or Professor Roslin didn’t matter, they loved him just the same.

Laura greeted everyone in turn, thanking them for their outpouring of support. But she was systematically making her way toward her father’s office, which had long served as his study and conference room for Family Business. When she finally entered the room, the heads of the Families rose. She waved them off and took her seat at the head of the table. “Please sit, gentlemen. We won’t be long.”

Mr. Roth spoke from the other end of the table. “Ms. Roslin, we offer our sincerest condolences. Your father was a good man.”

She nodded. “Yes, he was. And my sisters, they were better than both of us. And my nephew would have been the light of our lives.” She gazed around the room. “Let’s not forget that. Any of us.”

They tried to hide their discomfort, but she caught their subtle movements, as though they were looking for the nearest exit. They knew what they’d done. Killing civilians was an infamita.

She sighed. “But enough of that. My father started a legacy, which I’ll continue for years to come.” She held out her hands as though welcoming them all into her arms, her home, her family. “You’ll leave this house as my friends.” Bill entered the room at that moment. She glanced up at him. “You all know my Consigliere. He’ll be working with me very closely for the next few weeks.”

Only Bill Adama could look at Laura with such respect, while simultaneously glowering at the men in the room. He stood in the center of the room so he could easily see everyone. Let them squirm.

She continued, “Each of you will need to schedule a meeting with me in the near future.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I’m still adjusting to the changes.” She clapped her hands. “But I have some ideas that’ll carry us into the next century - and beyond.”

At that clear dismissal, the gentlemen started filing out, one by one, kissing her hand and shaking Bill’s hand before exiting.

Once they were alone, Bill asked, “What are your ideas?”

She smirked. “What ideas?”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a bark. Then he offered his hand so she could stand. “Come on, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“You will, huh?”

“I’ll show you the Adama Maneuver, you’ll like it.”

“I have no doubt.” She placed her hand on his arm. “Speaking of maneuvers, is--”

“--Everything’s in place.”

“Good.”

She walked out of the room, her arm linked in Bill’s, and as she hit the light switch, she did so with the confidence those men would never sit in her father’s office again.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She sat at her desk, preparing to make a few calls. It was approaching the end of term, and her work as superintendent was exploding, as it did every year. Incompetent teachers failing their students, angry parents, overwhelmed teachers (who weren’t quite incompetent). Caprica City schools were improving, however minutely, and she needed to remember that, especially in times like this.

Bill strode into the office and dropped a newspaper in front of her. “Thought you’d wanna see this.”

She glanced at the front page headline: The remaining Ha'la'tha members cut down. She looked up at Bill, who had taken his seat across from her. “What do you think?”

He shrugged. “There’ll be no investigation. The city officials are probably counting their blessings.”

“Hmm. Yes. You gotta love the poetic justice, Bill. They died exactly as they wanted to live.” She spoke with a hand gesture that mocked the Ha'la'tha movies Capricans were so fond of, as she added, “Like real Ha'la'tha gangsters.”

He chuckled at her imitation of the pop cultural representation of the Guatrau.

“What else?” she asked.

“That campaign worker keeps calling. Hoping you’ll join the team.”

She rolled her eyes. “As if I have time for that.” She snorted. “I’m trying to get away from politics.” There was something in his expression. A veiled...disapproval? “What?”

“It’s just...maybe that could be good for us, Laura.”

“Adar?” She raised a brow.

“He’s a moron, but with you by his side, he’d be unstoppable.”

She laughed. “It sounds like you’re saying I should run.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But in the next election.” He met her eyes. “I’d be honored to be the campaign manager for Secretary Roslin.”

“Secretary Roslin?”

He shrugged. “It’s the least he could do after you win him the Presidency.”

“I was thinking of retiring. The summer cabin. Remember, Bill? When you taught me to swim in that lake?”

“When you taught me, you mean?” He chuckled. “Never saw anyone take to water so quickly.” He shook his head. “It’s a nice dream.”

“But not a reality?”

“I don’t think you could walk away. Not yet.”

She nodded. He knew her too well. She could walk away: She’d had enough years in the district to retire. Her family’s dealings had been completely legitimate and would remain so. There was nothing to prevent a clean break. Nothing but Laura herself. “I’ll think about it.” She gave him her harshest Administrator Glare. “Know this, if I enter that world, you’re coming with me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“What about the other thing?”

He folded his hands in front of him. “My sources say she’s moving up the ranks. On the fast track to a command post.”

“And your sources?”

“My top guy is currently the CAG of Atlantia. He’s a good man, who knows he owes me everything he has.”

She hmmed. “Good. We’ll keep at it. I don’t care how long it takes, Bill.”

He stood up. “I’ll let you get back to work. It’s my night with the boys, but I’ll make you a sandwich before I go.”

She grinned before turning back to her personnel files. It was time to do some weeding. Secretary Roslin. She kind of liked the sound of that, but it would mean even more weeding.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

After the fall of the Families, Laura and Bill had settled into their natural rhythms. In the quiet moments, Laura thought about her family: her mother’s quiet strength and inner confidence both within their family and the classroom, her father’s sense of justice and fairness, and her sisters’ endless capacity for love. Then she thought about the person who had taken most of that from her, probably without a moment’s consideration of the consequences.

One evening when Laura had been fifteen, she’d come home from school and gone to her father’s office, as was their custom: Since Laura had come of age at twelve and gotten her first - and only - tattoo, the mark of Tauron, on her back, she had sat alongside her father as he conducted business with the Adamas or anyone else in their Family. She had never spoken, but she had listened and observed, and paid particular attention to her father the Guatrau, Yusef the Consigliere, and Samuel the Caporegime. That evening, the Adama brothers, Bill, Mr. Fazekas - the late Fidelia’s cousin, and a young, sullen girl were in the study with her father. Mr. Fazekas had had the floor.

“....She was found in the middle of a battlefield, alone, and carrying only a knife.” Mr. Fazekas lowered his head. “Sounds like the makings of a Caporegime to me.”

Her father smiled, as did Samuel.

Mr. Fazekas continued, “My wife and I have cared for her, loved her as our own, but she has a greater purpose. Guatrau, please take her into your family.”

Her father nodded, and then looked to Samuel. “What do you think, Sam?”

Sam cleared his throat. It had always been common practice for her father’s top men to have a say in all Family affairs. That had been what made him such a beloved Guatrau. “I’m an old man now,” Sam said, with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not the person to train young Helena; however, Larry and I have always regretted not having children. I would be happy to take her into our home. And my nephew, the future Caporegime will train her.”

Bill nodded, as Laura knew he had fully accepted his role within the family.

Sam smiled at the girl. “Is that acceptable, Helena?”

Helena nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”

And she’d been part of the family ever since. Helena had sat with Sandra and Cheryl during family dinners and picnics. She’d followed Bill’s lead during business meetings and his day-to-day routines. She’d been a near constant fixture for them all.

But there had been something about her Edward didn’t like. And although he’d always treated his youngest enforcer with the utmost respect, he had never shown her the warmth he’d shown everyone else in the family.

“Why don’t you like her, dad?” Laura asked once.

Edward sighed. “It’s not that I don’t like her, love. But there’s a darkness inside her.”

“Isn’t there one inside me and Bill?”

Edward gazed at Laura with such warmth. “It’s different with you two. It’s a devotion to your jobs, your family. That comes from a place of light. The epitome of ‘always faithful to the soil,’ of everything we stand for.”

Laura nodded, pleased her father held her and her best friend in such high regard. “And it’s not like that with Helena.” A statement, not a question, as her father had already confirmed as much.

He shook his head. Sadness and acceptance in equal measure.

Looking back, she should have known, as her father had seemingly predicted, that Helena would betray them. That she lacked something that kept the rest of them loyal. But Helena had been an Adama in all but blood, and that meant she’d been given certain latitudes. Frustrated with the communal lack of foresight, Laura went to the kitchen. Bill would be coming over in a few hours, and business was always more pleasant when discussed over cherry cake.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

She sat at her dining room table, eating the sushi Bill had gotten for her. Who would have thought the Consigliere’s main purpose would be that of Food Enforcer? Her wireless phone rang. She checked the ID: Marcia. She sighed. She should get this over with. She reminded herself she loved her best friend - her other best friend. “When are you gonna get out there?” Marcia asked before Laura could utter a greeting.

And so it begins. “Hello to you too.”

“It’s been months, Laura.”

“I know that. I’m doing fine.”

“What if I said you could be even better? I know a guy who’d be perfect for you.”

Perfect, huh? “I’m not really interested in dating.”

“Oh, well, maybe you’ll finally agree to join Team Adar.”

“I’m even less interested in politics.”

Marcia snorted. “As your best friend, I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

Door Number One was probably the lesser of two evils. “Tell me about this perfect guy.”

“He’s a bit younger.”

“How much younger are we talking? What’s his name?”

“At least ten years, but he’s um, mature. Sean Ellis.”

“That sounds familiar. I wonder…” Oh gods, how awkward would that be?!

“From what I hear, though, you already have the perfect man, and he practically lives with you.”

“He does not….we work together. It’s all very...professional.”

“Not when a man looks at you like he does.”

How did Bill look at her? She’d never noticed. “I don’t know about that. Anyway, call Mr. Perfect Ellis and set it up. As for Mr. Adar, I haven’t decided yet.” She opted not to mention how even Bill had supported that move. She didn’t need her closest friends colluding.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She heard the lock click open on her front door. Bill. He entered the kitchen where she was slicing carrots. “How was the date?”

It wasn’t an odd question per se. Their love lives had never been in the “no fly zone,” but neither was particularly comfortable addressing it, so they usually didn’t. However, Laura dating was enough of a rarity to pique Bill’s interest and override his discomfort with awkward situations. Laura knew this. She also knew if she said anything that implied something other than her date had been a perfect gentleman, she would read about Sean’s “mysterious” death by the end of the week. He may be her Consigliere, but he was a Caporegime at heart; either way, his Guatrau’s honor and well being were his own, which was a great comfort to her.

She put down the blade, laying it flat on the counter, and faced him. “It was fine, Bill. We won’t be seeing each other again. And he knows not to call me.”

His eyes went dark. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything.” She put up her hand. “I made a misstep. Gods know how long it’s been since I’ve dated. I’d rather not discuss it.”

That disarmed him. He stepped closer and his face softened. “Laura? You okay?”

She smiled both to reassure him and herself. “I’m fine. Better, even. I got back out there, and it didn’t kill me,” she said. “What’s more, I called Adar’s campaign manager.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“You were right. It’s a good opportunity for us. I’d be a fool not to take it.” She gazed at him, imploring him to challenge her. “And I’m many things, but not a fool.”

“Okay.”

Only Bill could provide the entire range of human emotions in one word. This time his “okay” spoke of excitement and loyalty. She was glad he was excited, at least. She was uncertain, at best, but confident she would find her footing before long.

“Why don’t you set the table? I’ll tell you the rest over lunch.”

Jump to the next chapter

Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Five

newnumbertwo — Mon, 19 Oct 2015 13:16:57 GMT

Title: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Five
Rating: M
Pairing: Laura/Sam
Word Count: 1050
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Finally! (lol)
A/N: Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work and support.
First Chapter

“Too much?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s just...we’re finally together, and I have a bum leg.”

She stroked his cheek. “Then we’ll wait.”

He groaned.

She cupped him. “And I’ll take care of you now.”

His eyes flashed with awareness - and something else. He wouldn’t last long.

She reached for his hand. “Come on.”

He struggled to sit up.

“Can you make it?” She asked.

“If I lean on you, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “Crutches kind of kill the mood.”

“But you will use them, right?”

“Yeah,” he said with little enthusiasm.

She helped him stand and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders for leverage. “Too much?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her mother had been dead weight at the end. This wasn’t nearly as bad.

They shuffled toward his room. “Just so you know, my bed’s not made,” he said.

She grinned. “Neither is mine.”

She opened the door. Aside from the sheets lying askew, it was a neat room. Spartan. One book lay on the bedside table. The only photo was of her. It was from just before she’d become Secretary of Education. “Didn’t know you had that,” she said, pointing at the picture.

“That was a good day,” he said. “And I love that skirt on you.”

He sat on the bed, then pulled her flush against him. He kissed her earlobe. “Love this look too.”

She was in Yoga pants and a faded t-shirt from a long ago teachers’ retreat. She hadn’t exactly planned on leaving the house that day. “Really?”

“Yeah. It says you’ll be sticking around for awhile.” He grinned. “I like that.”

“Me too,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.” She gently pushed against his chest. “Lie down, Mr. Anders.”

“Is that your teacher voice?” he asked after he’d complied.

She raised a brow. “Do you want it to be?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe another time. You know, when I can fully enjoy it.”

She ran her hand along his trunk and chest. He wasn’t a big guy - he wouldn’t be as agile if he were - but his abdominal muscles were impressive. She hadn’t thought of that as her thing, but it certainly was now. It was probably him. “Then let Dr. Roslin make you feel better.”

She lifted the hem of his shirt, and he helped her pull it off. She tweaked his nipple until he shuddered. “Your reflexes function normally, I see,” she said. “Good.”

She stroked down his chest to his stomach and slid her hand under his waistband. She cupped him through his boxers.

He groaned.

“Let’s get those off, shall we?” she said, as she pulled down his shorts and boxers, careful not to knock into his ankle.

She pushed against his chest until he lay back against his pillows. “Good.”

She cupped him completely until he hardened in her hand. Then she stroked him until his body shook. “Please,” he moaned.

“Please what?”

“Need to come.”

“Where?” She picked up the pace.

“Oh, Gods….your mouth.”

“That can be arranged, I think.” She lowered her head. “You could use a bath later,” she said.

“Only if you join me.”

She hmmed. “That does seem the most expedient way to bathe you,” she said. “I mean, you’ll just get me wet anyway.”

“Gods, I love the way your mind works,” he said.

Me too. She slowly wrapped her lips around him, listening to his groans and sighs.

“Such a tease,” he said.

I know. But she’d tortured the poor man enough, so she engulfed him.

That was all it took. He came with a shout - her name rather than the Gods. She swallowed and sat up as he caught his breath. “Sorry,” he said, “Couldn’t last.”

“I think you lasted a long time. Considering.”

He collapsed against his pillow and she snuggled into his side. “Good?” she asked.

“Mmmhmm.” His voice heavy with impending sleep.

Typical man. She smiled as he draped his arm around her.

“Love you,” he said into her hair.

It may have been her first time hearing him say those words, but she could tell it wasn’t his first time saying them. He’d been far too natural, at ease. Like he’d been saying it for years. “Mmm. Me too,” she said, and it wasn’t as scary as she’d always feared.

He held her tighter. “I’m not going anywhere, babe,” he said.

How did he always know what to say? Or do?

“Besides,” he said, “You owe me a bath.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////

When Jenny heard the chime, she looked up from the espresso machine she was wiping. It was her favorite customers, Sam Anders and Secretary Roslin. She checked her watch. Back on schedule. Only today they were holding hands and smiling.

They approached the counter. Sam spoke, “Good morning. We’ll have our usuals please.”

Jenny nodded. “Haven’t seen you two in a few days.” She moved to the ready-made regular coffee canisters and filled two mugs. “Coming right up.”

“This one wouldn’t let me out of the apartment,” Sam was saying.

Secretary Roslin smacked him, but she laughed. “He sprained his ankle. And it was the doctor’s orders.”

“Which Laura enforced,” Sam said.

Jenny handed them their mugs. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, Sam.”

He dug into his pocket. “Oh, no, Mister. I’m paying today,” Secretary Rosin said.

“But you’re--” he started.

“--I’m going back today,” Roslin said. “And I’ll fire every last one of them and start over.”

Seacade. It’s been all over the vidscreen. Secretary Roslin had fallen on her sword, but it seemed like that was over. Good. Roslin would whip the whole government into shape. “If you ever run for president, I’ll vote for you, ma’am,” Jenny said.

Sam grinned. “That’s what I keep saying.”

Roslin smiled. “Thanks, Jenny, but I think I’m good where I am.”

Sam squeezed Roslin’s shoulder, and they took their coffees to their usual table. Jenny smiled as she watched them, and turned her attention back to the espresso machine. She kept half an eye on them as they talked, leaning into each other, smiling and flirting over their coffees. It was good to see them both so happy. They were good for each other.

Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Four

newnumbertwo — Wed, 16 Sep 2015 20:59:33 GMT

Title: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Four
Rating: T
Word Count: 1914
Pairing: Laura/Sam
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Laura and Sam are there for each other as they each suffer setbacks professionally.
A/N: Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work.
A/N2: First Chapter

“Did you put me to bed last night?”

“Guilty,” he said into the phone.

“Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

I’m not. “Hey. You said you were tired. Full disclosure, right?”

“I wish I had made my bed, at least.”

He chuckled. “It did make it easier to cover you.”

“Maybe, but I have an image to maintain.”

“I’ll never tell.”

She laughed. “And you cleaned.”

“Just straightened. Wanted you to have a clean start today,” he said. “What are you doing today, anyway?”

“I’m officially between jobs. I should be working on my eight-point plan,” she said. “But I have a few months. No need to rush.”

“Why eight points?”

“Ten sounds like too much, and five’s not enough. So we start with eight - my team and I - I have to put together a team. Frak. As we accomplish things, I’ll add more to the list.” She groaned. “I’m reading up on my predecessor now. Not impressed.”

He fought the urge to laugh. This was a lazy day for Laura. “I should let you go, then.”

“Hmm. Actually, I could kill for some coffee. Can we meet?”

He confirmed he was available and ended the call.

///////////////////////////////////////

Laura adjusted well to her appointment as Secretary of Education. She had more power than she’d ever had, but she didn’t let it go to her head. To whom much is given, much is expected, and if her personal standards weren’t enough to keep her “honest,” the press’s scrutiny certainly was.

Her rare press conferences made her appreciate the Press Secretary. They also made her temporarily forget she was a liberal. While she understood the need to sell newspapers and boost ratings, she wished her “story” was about taking charge of education across the Colonies from the ground-up. Instead, it was a combination of speculation about how she was the real woman behind Richard Adar - Denise Adar’s shyness didn’t help the situation - and her relationship with Sam Anders.

She’d dignified neither with a response and continued on her path. Richard had simply chuckled and said, “Well, you did get me elected,” to which she’d demurred, even if that was true.

Sam had also been his typical even-tempered self. “I don’t know, Laura, I’m kind of enjoying reading about us,” he’d said with a wink. She’d smacked his arm, and they’d laughed together. Easy. Comfortable. And not at all like the torrid affair they had allegedly been carrying on.

Aside from her annoyance with the freedom of the press, she enjoyed her work, much more that she’d ever thought she would. Eliminating inefficiency and cronyism was deeply rewarding. She missed working with children - her staff didn’t count - but she could see the big picture, that children everywhere would benefit from her actions. At least that was her hope, and ultimately the only standard by which she assessed her finished tasks.

Then Seacade happened.

She sat at her home office, coffee by her side, and made a list. The phone rang. She answered. “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

Not how, what. “Well, I’m on leave, so not much.”

“I bet you’re making a list.”

She said nothing.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know.”

“Tell that to the press.” She sighed. “It happened under my watch. So…”

“You’re punishing yourself.”

“No. I’m--”

“--Taking an unpaid leave. What’s that?”

“It always annoyed me when political frak ups would take paid leaves. Like no matter what, they’d get their cubits - our cubits. I wasn’t willing to do that.”

“You’re not a frak up.”

“Maybe not, but I’m a politician involved in a scandal. I think the designation is apt,” she said. “What about you? Calling in the middle of the day. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just...I kind of blew out my ankle--”

“--What!?”

“I’ll be fine. Trainer says to stay off it for a few days. We’ll go from there.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Aren’t you busy plotting worlds domination?”

“I can do that anywhere.”

/////////////////////////////////////

He lay on the couch, his right ankle wrapped in ice and elevated on a pillow. His face wore the determined expression of a man who was clearly fighting pain but didn’t want it to get the best of him. She shook her head. “What did you do to yourself?”

“Hey, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Part of being an athlete.”

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Need anything?”

“Just sit with me.”

She joined him, mindful not to knock into his bad ankle, and rested her head against his chest. He held her. “You okay?” he asked.

She snorted. “I think that’s my line.”

“I’m better now.”

She hmmed. “You know, one of the benefits of ‘working from home’ is nap-time.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, right. Laura Roslin taking a nap.”

“Watch me.” She snuggled closer to him. He rubbed her back in slow, even strokes. She mmed and closed her eyes.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“That didn’t last long,” he said. “I guess there is something you can’t do.”

“I’ll have you know there’s plenty of things I can’t do. And I can nap,” she said. “I just have a bit of an active mind of late.”

“It was nothing. Lost my footing during practice. Ten-point rolled into me and onto my ankle,” he said. “Hurt like a frakker when it happened, but now it’s not so bad.” He rubbed a particularly knotted spot between her shoulders. “So tense. Let Doctor Anders take care of you, Doctor Roslin.”

She laughed.

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor like my dad,” he said. “Oh, if they could see me now.”

“Where are they?”

“They died. I was in school. Our roof collapsed and crushed them.” She gasped. “That’s when I moved to Caprica with my aunt and uncle. They were old and never had children,” he said. “So they spoiled me. I think they felt bad about my parents and moving to a new colony and everything. I heard they have better building codes on Picon now.”

////////////////////////////////////

He’d broken the first rule of pyramid - he’d gotten distracted. Of course, he could blame whoever the genius had been who decided a vidscreen was a good idea on the wall of the auxiliary gym. They’d been practicing like any other day when he caught a glimpse of Laura.

As much as she preferred to remain out of the spotlight, he’d seen her on the news several times since she’d become Secretary of Education. But this time had been different. She’d worn a contrite expression he’d never seen before: Laura rarely apologized for anything. She’d always said it was easier to apologize than to ask for permission, but then she would smile and add it was best not to have to apologize.

He hadn’t been able to hear the broadcast, but he’d read the ticker: “Disgraced Secretary of Education apologizes for Seacade scandal.” Then Ten-Point had barrelled into him, and he’d gone down hard on his ankle.

He groaned.

“Okay?” Laura asked.

“Yeah. I guess it’s just time for more ice.”

“Coming right up.”

“Ever think of changing professions?”

She snorted. “Every day. But somehow I’m not sure I’d be good at this. Even if I did spend a lot of time taking care of my mother.”

She got off the couch. He missed her warmth instantly. She went to the kitchen, and he heard her filling up the bag with ice. Then she was back, wrapping it around his ankle with an Ace Bandage. “Do you need a drink or something?” she asked.

He shrugged. “You hungry? I’m kinda in the mood for Tauron.”

“The sweet or the savory?”

“Both.”

She laughed. “I’ll call. They’ll deliver here, right?”

He nodded. “Then I need your help with something.”

“Anything.”

////////////////////////////////////////

“How’s this feel?” she asked. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” She kneaded his ankle.

“No. It’s good.” He moaned. “Thanks.”

“You’re sure?” It was inflamed and angry looking.

“It’s keeping the circulation going,” he said. “Need that after hours of ice.”

She shook her head. “I think it’s only supposed to be twenty minutes at a time.”

He chuckled. “Good thing you’re here.”

“Hmm.” She focused on the puffy area surrounding the round bone -whatever it was called. Anatomy and Physiology hadn’t been her best class in school. Rote memorization wasn’t really her thing.

“I guess the pain’s not too bad,” she said, smiling to herself. She was enjoying this too.

“Huh?”

“Your friend is saying hello.” She flicked her eyes toward his crotch.

She could almost hear him processing that. Then, “Oh my Gods. I’m sorry, Laura.” He sat up, pulling his ankle out of her grip.

“It’s perfectly natural, I’m sure.” She knew enough about massages to understand that, and was thankful her feelings weren’t so obvious.

“It’s not that. I mean, it is that yeah, but it’s...it’s you.”

“I’m sorry?” Her eyes locked on his, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“It’s you. You make me feel this way.”

Oh. “I didn’t...I wasn’t aware...since when?” She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. She wished she had pockets on her pants.

“Before we met.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

He sighed. “When Sandy and I first started hanging out, helping each other with classes, Sandy’s screensaver was you, your family. It was...I don’t know. Fate or something - I could only see you, every time she got her phone out. I think Sandy knew too,” he said. “She kept telling me about you. What you like, your nightmare dates, your job, how you helped her prep for her tests.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

She reached for his hand. “Hey. It’s not...It’s just new. To me, I guess.” Sandy had been his friend. She must have always known he was in love with Laura from afar. And….

Before Sandra and Cheryl had left the party with dad, Sandra had pulled Laura aside. “I found the perfect guy for you.” She’d smiled. “I’ve been grooming him for awhile. You know, since it’s not easy to live with Laura Roslin.”

Laura had giggled. “I’m very easy to live with. As long as everything goes my way.”

Sandy’d rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’ll be in touch.”

“Why go to the trouble for me? Why not just groom him for yourself?”

Sandy’d shrugged. “Maybe it’s old fashioned, but I’d like to see both of my sisters happy and in love before it’s my turn.”

Laura had pulled her into a hug and had kissed her forehead. “Love you, kid. Be good tonight. We’ll talk about this ‘perfect guy’ later.”

“Oh my Gods! You’re the one.”

“What one?”

“The perfect guy for me.” At his confused look she added, “The day before the accident, Sandy told me she’d found someone, the ‘perfect guy’ for me, said she’d been grooming him for a while.” She squeezed his hand. “Must have meant you.”

He grinned. “Not sure about ‘perfect’.”

She smiled. “I am. Not perfect. Just perfect for me.”

He leaned forward. “I’m going to kiss you, okay?”

She giggled. “I’d say it was overdue.”

He pecked her lips and released. She snapped her eyes to his. “Just kidding,” he said. He sat back and crooked his finger. “C’mere.”

This time she took the lead, leaning into him, and she didn’t stop at a peck.

Final Chapter

Fic: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Three

newnumbertwo — Wed, 02 Sep 2015 13:40:35 GMT

Title: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Three
Rating: T
Word Count: ~1609
Disclaimer: don't own them
Summary: As Laura makes a major decision and life change, Sam is there every step of the way.
Pairing: Laura/Sam
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work.
A/N: First Chapter

She took a hard look in the mirror. She’d left Sean in her bed; he was probably wondering what she was doing. Maybe if she stayed long enough, he’d just leave. No. He was a gentleman - he’d say she’d taught him better - He wouldn’t go without making sure she was okay. Which would be worse. Even more embarrassing.

She turned out the light and exited the bathroom.

“Laura? Is everything okay?”

She nodded. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No. You didn’t,” she said. “Don’t call me again.”

He got the hint and scrambled out of her bed. She returned to the bathroom with her wireless phone and a cigarette. She sat on the floor against the cabinets as she called Adar’s campaign manager. She was in. All the way to the end. She took a final drag of her cigarette and thought of what she would say to Sam.

///////////////////////////////////////////

When Sam arrived, she was already there. A coffee sat at his place. He kissed her cheek. They could do that, right? That was a ‘friend thing.’ “Mmm. You smell great,” he said. “I mean, not that you don’t always…”

“I took a shower,” she said, grinning mischievously.

He chuckled. “Must be it, then.”

Something was off. There were circles under her eyes. “Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m afraid you were right.” She forced a smile. “I joined Adar’s campaign last night.”

“Oh. Great,” he said. “And the, um, date?”

She shrugged. “Nice guy, but we don’t suit.”

“Oh, no? That’s too bad.”

“Not really. I agreed to the date under protest,” she said. “And I had a much better time than I expected.”

Yet it was bad enough to push her into politics. “Well, that’s something.” He smiled. “It’s good to see you getting out there, Laura.”

“Now you’re sounding like Marcia.”

He put up his hands. “Oh, no. Don’t want that.”

She laughed. Then she sipped her coffee. “Hmm. Perfect.” She popped open the lid. “Yup, that’s ‘coffee colored’ to me. You can tell a lot about a person by their perception of ‘coffee color’,” she said.

“You’re someone with impeccable taste, clearly,” he said.

“You too.”

“Nah. Just wanted to be sure it was up to your standards. Anyway, Jenny knows your order really well by now.”

They shared a laugh. That was one thing Sandy had never mentioned - how easy Laura’s laugh was, how infectious. Sandy had always described her as a workaholic, serious, efficient. All true, of course, but Laura always seemed to find the lighter side of a situation.
“What about you? Anyone special?”

Talk about a loaded question. “I’m not dating anyone at the moment.” True enough. “One of the few things my coach is pleased about.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “The old man thinks a girlfriend would be a distraction.”

“Probably.”

“Pyramid is one giant distraction,” he said. “Fast plays. Sudden switch-ups. Collisions on the court. Injuries.” He shook his head. “The ability to play through all of that. To make the perfect pass. The perfect shot. That’s what makes a player great.”

“Like you.”

“I guess, yeah,” he said. “I just mean, if anything, a partner could help keep all that straight.”

“The right partner could, sure.”

“Yeah.”

They sipped their coffees.

“I can’t believe I’m looking at the future leader of the Twelve Colonies here. I’ll see you on the vidscreen and say, ‘I remember when we used to have coffee together’.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Sam. I’ll probably drive Adar crazy within the week with my binder system.” She laughed. “That’ll be a swift end to my political career,” she said. “Besides, I’d never want to leave education.”

“Maybe you won’t have to.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Within moments of arriving, Laura understood why Adar had been pressing her to join his campaign. The office was a frakkin’ mess. The staffers worked under little to no direction, and Richard Adar was barricaded in his office.

She clapped her hands and rolled up her sleeves. She put everyone to work cleaning and organizing. Then it was time to make a plan. For that, she needed Mayor Adar.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

“How is it?” Sam asked.

“Busy. Very busy,” she said. “But it’s good. Yeah.”

“Adar hasn’t kicked you to the curb, then.”

She laughed. “No. He couldn’t afford to do that,” she said. “Actually, we work well together. Somewhat unexpectedly.”

“Not to me.” He took a sip. “I’m glad it’s working out.”

“Me too.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////

When victory was imminent, Laura began to extract herself from the campaign office. Let the kids have their fun..

Adar looked up from his victory speech notes. “Where are you going?”

She smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. President Elect. You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Stay, Laura. Celebrate with me...with us.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be with you in spirit.”

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” He nodded. “I understand. You...I couldn’t have done this without you.” He reached out his hand for her to shake. “Congratulations, Madame Secretary."

“Secretary?” she asked.

“Of Education. If you want, that is. Transportation is available too, if you’d rather.”

She snorted. “No. I think Secretary of Education is more my speed. I’m honored you think I’m up for the task.”

He nodded. “I know this means you’ll have to leave the district. But,” he said, “think of how many children’s lives you’ll shape, Laura. The good work you’ve done for Caprica City you can duplicate across the Colonies. And you’ll have the full power and support of the Office of the President behind you.”

She smiled. “In that case, I’ll need some rest. Sounds like I’ll have a busy four years.”

He grinned and wished her well.

She hurried home to a ringing phone. “Laura Roslin’s residence,” she said as she answered.

“Hey! Congratulations,” Sam said.

“How’d you know I’d be home?”

“Stay for a party? You? Nah. I bet you snuck out as soon as the final district was calculated.”

She smiled. “I didn’t sneak, I’ll have you know. I said goodbye to the President Elect and left after he offered me a job.”

“After you won the Office for him, a cabinet position is the least he could do.”

“He won it, Sam. I just...helped a bit.”

“Yeah, it was a little more than that. So how will you spend your night?”

“I have a bottle I’ve been saving,” she said. “I’ll sip it as I listen to the victory speech.”

“Which you wrote, right?”

“Yes, but it’s all in his performance,” she said. “Would you like to join me?”

“Be right over,” he said. Click.

She replaced the phone in its cradle and prepared for her guest.

///////////////////////////////////////////

She poured their glasses as he turned on the vidscreen. “I’m not sure which channel,” she said.

“All of them,” he said. “Are you sure you wanna watch?”

She nodded. “The speech gets better with wine.”

He laughed. “Not your best work?”

She shrugged. “It’s quite a balance. Being firm, confident, charismatic, humble, supportive. Likable even,” she said. “I’m afraid Adar’s predecessors didn’t provide suitable examples on this front - their speech writers were rather...I had to wing it.” She laughed. “I’ll probably be doing that a lot.”

He lifted his glass to clink with hers. “To the Secretary of Education.” She gave a small smile. “May she whip the Colonies into shape the way she runs her school,” he said. She snorted. “And keep President Adar in line too.”

“So say we all.”

“I never met your mother. Or your father, for that matter. But I know they would be proud.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I think my mother would be sorry to see me leave the classroom--”

“--The Colonies are your classroom. Endless possibilities.”

“Can you remind me that every time I have doubts?”

He smiled. “Always.”

The MC announced Adar’s victory and Richard Adar took center stage. His posture was perfect: triumphant yet humble. He’d crushed his opponent, but it wouldn’t do to rub it in. In politics, you were only as strong as your connections. And one’s connections were invariably enemies and opponents. Tim Sheehan hadn’t been the right person for the Office of the President of the Twelve Colonies, but he’d had powerful allies - and Richard would need them in the next four years.

“He’s off to a good start,” Sam said.

She rested her head against his shoulder and took a sip. “Yes, he is,” she said. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

After the fireworks, a tradition since the unification of the Twelve Colonies, he switched off the vidscreen. Laura snored softly, her head against his chest. He kissed her hair; then he debated his options: wait ‘til she awakened or carry her to bed. A good night’s sleep in her own bed would be worth the risk of disturbing her. He maneuvered off the couch and leveraged her into his arms: She was light. She needed to eat more.

Her eyes flickered open. “Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“G’night.” She closed her eyes and didn’t reopen them.

He found his way to her room and laid her on the bed. It was unmade - nice to see she wasn’t perfect, even if he'd already technically known that - so he pulled up the covers and tucked her in. He kissed her forehead and exited the room.

He went into the kitchen and washed and dried their wine glasses and the dishes from the cheddar bacon ranch dip she insisted they’d eat. He returned everything to its proper place and left the apartment.

Next Chapter

Fic: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Two

newnumbertwo — Tue, 25 Aug 2015 22:57:24 GMT

Title: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter Two
Rating: T
Pairing: Laura/Sam
Word Count: ~1400
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: As the months go by, Laura and Sam continue to bond.
A/N: Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work.
The story begins here.

She was running late, for her anyway. So when she arrived at the cafe, Sam was sitting in their spot, one coffee in front of him and one at her place. She strode to the table and placed her bag on the floor with as much grace as she could muster, and sat down. “Good morning.”

He smiled. “Good morning. I got cream and sugar - in the coffee, I mean. Hope that’s okay.”

He was nervous. Sweet.

“Perfect.”

“Good. How was your night?”

“Good. Good. Yours?”

“It was, uh, good, yeah.” He shrugged. “Coach likes us to get a full night’s sleep every night, but that didn’t really work out. Oh, well.” He chuckled. “Gotta give the old grump something to yell about.”

She nodded.

He shifted in his chair. “Too excited to sleep.”

“Oh?” She took a sip to buy some time.

“You didn’t ask why.”

“I’m sorry. Is it the tournament?” He shook his head. “Something else, then?” she asked.

“Coffee.” He leaned forward.

“Coffee?” Had he overcaffeinated? Or…

“Not the coffee so much, but what it represents.”

She nodded. “This is a great shop. Good jazz in the background. Not the elevator crap most places play. Good location too.”

“Yeah, that’s...part of it.” He took a sip and cleared his throat. “Any kids giving you trouble?”

“The kids are surprisingly well behaved this week,” she said. “It’s the teachers who have my hair turning grey.”

“Don’t see any.” He appraised her hair. “It looks good to me,” he said. “But what are they doing?”

She shook her head. “It’s come to my attention yesterday afternoon that one of them is teaching about The One True God.”

“Oh. What are you gonna do?”

She sighed. “This is where it gets complicated. Teachers have certain protections, many of which I have fought for in this district,” she said. “The others my mother helped implement. So long as she isn’t spreading ‘terrorist propaganda,’ I can’t stop her. All I can do is suggest she stick to the Lords of Kobol.”

He nodded. “Is she a worlds’ religion teacher? Or history?”

She shook her head. “Literature.”

“Well, that fits, I guess,” he said. “You gonna deal with that today?”

“I’ve asked her to my office first thing this morning.” She checked her watch. “I should--”

He stood and went to her chair and offered his hand. She took it and he helped her up. “Good luck, Laura.” He kissed her cheek. He picked up her bag and handed it to her, then placed her coffee in her free hand. She could get used to this. “I’ll call you later,” he said.
He squeezed her shoulder.

“I look forward to hearing from you.” She smiled. “Bye, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll treat next time.”

/////////////////////////////////////////

The first time he’d seen Laura was in a photo. He’d been sitting next to Sandra as she pulled up their class notes on her computer. As the program had loaded, the family photo had been the screensaver.

Sandra’d blushed. “Don’t mind that.”

“I don’t,” he’d said.

Sandra’s face had returned to its natural color, and she’d told him about her two sisters, her mother, who had died while she’d still been in high school, and her father. She’d said how great Laura had been throughout their mother’s illness, how she’d taken care of them.

“Sounds like an amazing woman. Amazing family.”

She’d smiled and nodded. “She is. And we are.”

After that, his conversations with Sandra had been filled with Laura stories: how bossy she could be, the books they read together, what she’d reported about her date the previous week. Discussions about dates had always brought an eyeroll and a giggle out of Sandy.

“Why? What was wrong with him?”

“Nothing, I guess. She just…”

“What?”

“Tends to attract the worst guys.” She shook her head. “I don’t get it. Cheryl is married already. And he’s wonderful - like the brother I never had, you know. But Laura...”

He nodded.

A few nights before the accident, she’d left him a voicemail. She’d had an idea she wanted to run by him. She hadn’t said what it was, and now he would never know.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked.

He blinked. “Sorry. I was thinking about Sandy.”

She nodded. “I do that all the time.”

“I didn’t tell you before, don’t know why. She left me a message just before….said she wanted to talk. But she didn’t say about what.” He shook his head. “Now, I’ll always regret not getting to the phone in time.”

She studied him, looking for...he didn’t know. “I never considered this before, though I probably should have. Were you in love with her?”

He smiled but shook his head. “No. I loved Sandy. She was a great friend. Like a sister. And she was the only one on that godsdamned campus that didn’t treat me like I was the Gods’ greatest gift to pyramid. She reminded me I was a mere mortal. Constantly.”

She laughed. “She always was good for that,” she said. “You would have been good for her. I would have liked to see you together.” She sighed. “But I would have felt guilty, or something, if you’d loved her.”

“Why?” He raised a brow.

She shrugged. “Since they died, I’ve been acting like grief and mourning only belong to me. Like no one else has ever felt this...emptiness before. If you had loved and lost her as I have, that would mean I’ve been depriving you.”

He covered her hand with his. “You haven’t been. And what you’re feeling, the personalization of grief, that’s natural. You’re not…”

She nodded. “Makes you wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“What she would have said. What she couldn’t say in a voicemail.”

“Yeah.” He sipped his coffee. “I think about that all the time.”

//////////////////////////////////

“It’s been four months. Time to get out there again,” Marcia said. “And you don’t even have to find somebody, because I’ve got the perfect guy for you.”

Oh, dear. Laura took a bite of her sushi, holding the wireless phone away from her mouth as she chewed. “Perfect, huh? What’s his name?”

This wasn’t the first time a loved one had played or attempted to play matchmaker for her. It also wasn’t the first time someone claimed to have found the perfect date (or partner) for her. After the police had left her condo that fateful morning, Sandy’s ‘perfect guy’ for Laura had been the furthest thing from her mind.

Marcia’s sales pitch brought Sandy’s aborted matchmaking back to the forefront. Another suitor for her ever lonely heart. A younger man. Was he like whom Sandy'd had in mind? What were the odds they’d chosen the same man for her? “How much younger?” she asked Marcia.

Marcia gave a round-about answer, which meant he was a lot younger. Laura toyed with the notion of surprising her friend and choosing politics, but Sandy would have wanted her to go on this date, if only out of curiosity.

Sean Allison. The name sounded familiar. Had she taught him at some point? How awkward would that be?!

“Of course, you could just upgrade your ‘coffee dates’ with Sam Anders.” Marcia mmmed. “Is he as gorgeous in person as he is on the vid screen?”

“We’re just--”

“--Friends don’t have coffee together every morning, Laura. And you didn’t answer.”

“Yes, he’s gorgeous. More so, I think. But only because he’s so...kind, grounded. And yes, we are friends. I know this because I actually talk to him.”

Marcia laughed. “You’ve got a point, there. I’ll call Sean and let him know.”

Laura ended the call and went back to her sushi.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

“A date? That’s...great. Who? Someone from work or something?” Sam asked.

Laura shrugged. “Don’t really know. It’s a blind date.” She sipped her coffee. “It was this or join Adar’s campaign, and I really don’t like politics.”

He laughed. “I don’t know, Laura. I think you’d be good at it.”

“Didn’t say I wouldn’t be.” She smirked.

He shook his head. “Well, enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Next Chapter

Fic: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter One

newnumbertwo — Wed, 19 Aug 2015 01:35:11 GMT

Title: Eye of the Beholder: Chapter One
Rating: T (This chapter)
Pairing: Laura/Sam
Word Count: 1206
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Professional Pyramid player Sam Anders went to University with Sandy Roslin; after the Roslins' funeral, he connects with Laura. Original Prompt from laura_mayfair.
A/N: Dedicated to singerdiva01_sk in honor of her birthday. Happy Birthday! *huggles* Much thanks to my betas lanalucy and laura_mayfair. This has been a labor of love for awhile now, and I'm so happy it's finished (mostly) and ready to post. *group hugs*
A/N2: There are five chapters, and I'll post one a week (probably around Wednesday).

Laura stood at the gravesite. The three coffins lay before her. The priest sprinkled a bit of soil on each one near the end of his final blessing. Behind her were many of her father’s friends and former students as well as her sisters’ friends. And one person she hadn’t expected - Sam Anders. He’d just been signed to the C-Bucs. Her family’s funeral seemed an odd place to celebrate.

He’d remained in the back, and whenever she’d glanced his way, he’d looked like any other mourner. He certainly hadn’t made it about him, which she appreciated greatly.

After the priest’s final blessing, she faced the crowd, and a line formed to take turns saying their last goodbyes. She shook everyone’s hands and listened to their words of support and well wishes. Finally, Anders approached. He spent the most time at Sandra’s casket, but then he scattered some soil over Cheryl’s and her father’s. With his clean hand, he shook Laura’s hand. “Sorry for your loss.”

His eyes said he knew exactly how inadequate his words were, but there weren’t any better ones to offer. “Thank you. You knew Sandra?”

He nodded. “Yeah, we had SOC 101 together freshman year.” He smiled fondly. “She helped me pass.”

She wasn’t surprised. Unlike Laura and their parents, Sandra and Cheryl had chosen not to become educators, but Sandra did have a tendency to help her friends. “And now you’re playing for the Bucs. You should be very proud.”

He shrugged. “It’s just a game. It has its moments, though.” He patted her shoulder gently. “I’ll let you go.”

She smiled sadly. “Will you join us?”

He shook his head. “I better head back.”

There was something in his eyes that said it had nothing to do with pyramid. She let that lie and simply thanked him, wished him a good season, and turned to walk toward her car. She dreaded what was to come. At least the reception would be in a restaurant. Then, when the last mourner offered his or her final regards, Laura could go home to her quiet condo.

//////////////////////////////////

She sat in her seat in the coffee shop, enjoying her second cup of the day and checking messages on her computer before heading to work. A principal’s job was never done, she’d learned that year. And she’d thought teaching was demanding.

She began preparing to leave when there was a voice she’d last heard on the news - Sam Anders. He was placing his order.

She stopped packing up her bag. He was facing the counter, talking to the barista, and Laura’s eyes lingered. He looked well, fit, which was no surprise. He’d bulked up since she’d last seen him, and he had more...swagger, confidence. What would Sandra think if she could see him now?

She waited for the CLICKs of cameras from some hidden corner. An aggressive reporter to ask him for an exclusive. There was none of that.

He paid for his coffee, and the barista handed him his cup. Then he turned to leave. Only he didn’t.

His eyes locked on Laura’s face, and she realized she’d been staring at him. Her parents would not have approved of her behavior; she was almost glad she wouldn’t be able to tell them about it. “Laura?”

She nodded, and he approached her table.

“How are you? You busy? Can I join you for a few minutes?”

She smiled. “I’ll start with the last question. By all means, have a seat. I don’t have long - I should get to school.” She snorted. “But I’m the boss, and the vice principal would love to be in charge - even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

He laughed. “Sandra said you were always the boss, wherever you went.”

She rolled her eyes. “Benefit of being the oldest of three girls. Anyway, I’m fine, Sam. How are you? It seems like you’re really helping turn the Bucs around this season.”

He shrugged. “It’s a growing year. I’m just honored to be part of it.” He sighed. “But sometimes I just...Is this all I am?”

“I don’t know. I think being the most sought after rookie of the year is pretty impressive,” she said. “But I understand. Sometimes I want more, but I have no idea what. Or what it would even look like.”

He nodded. “That’s it. Exactly.” He shot her the million cubit smile that couldn’t quite hide the unrest she sensed. “Well, I should go before Coach hunts me down.”

“Yes, and I really shouldn’t let Joe run the school.” She giggled. “I’d get there, and half the kids would be assigned detention.”

“Oh, so you’re good cop?”

“Only until they cross me, yes.”

He stood. “It was great seeing you, Laura.” He appraised her. “You look...good. Really good. Could I maybe, I don’t know, call you sometime?”

She smiled. “I think I’d like that.” She pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to him. “You can use any of those numbers.”

“Talk to you soon.” Then he was out of the shop.

She took her last sip of coffee and stood. She reassessed she had everything and strode out.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

She closed the file folder with a satisfied huff. She still had more performance reviews to do, but those could wait - at least until tomorrow. She picked up the latest book in the “Colonies” series, her guilty pleasure. So far, she didn’t think the specific murder on Gemenon (as the title so cleverly indicated) was any more noteworthy than any of the thousands of real life ones, but she’d started the series with Cheryl and Sandy, so she would see it through. At least there were only twelve colonies.

Her mobile chimed. “Laura Roslin.”

“Hey, it’s me. Sam.”

“Hi.”

“Is it too late? Sandra always said you were an early riser.”

She laughed. “I suppose it did seem early to her since she never woke up before ten.”

“She did when she had an 8 a.m. class.”

“And hated every minute of it.”

He chuckled. “I’d bring her coffee in exchange for notes.” A pause. “Is it okay that I talk about her? About them?”

She could see why his interviewers always said what a thoughtful and kind subject he was. “It hurts to think about them,” she said. “But it’s a good hurt. I don’t get to talk about them much. Not like this anyway.”

“Yeah. It’s like they’re here. Almost.”

“Almost.” She sighed. “What about you? You must be busy with the tournament coming up.”

“Yeah. But it’s nice not to have to talk about it.”

“Oh. Do I make you uncomfortable bringing it up?”

“No, Laura. You make me feel like...more than a pyramid jock.”

She had nothing to say to that.

“And now I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he said.

“No! I just…”

“Speechless, Roslin? Why do I have the feeling this isn’t a common occurrence?”

She giggled. “Because it’s not.”

“I’ll be at the coffee shop tomorrow morning.”

“Me too.”

“Great. Well, goodnight, Laura.”

He ended the call, but she held the mobile against her a moment longer, then placed it in her bag.

Until tomorrow.

Next Chapter

Fic: Effective Communication

newnumbertwo — Tue, 28 Jul 2015 11:21:38 GMT

Title: Effective Communication
Rating: T
Fandom: Major Crimes
Pairing: Raydor/Hobbs
Word Count: 859
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Sharon and Andrea carve out time during their busy schedules to talk...
A/N: Written for the lovely defyingnormalcy's birthday. Hope it's a great one! *hugs* Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work.

“Knock, knock,” Andrea said, standing in Sharon’s doorway.

“Andrea, what can I do for you?” Sharon asked. “It’s been a revolving door in here today. I haven’t even bothered closing it.”

“Really?”

Sharon shrugged. “A suspect’s brother yelling that I made a mistake. Andy’s misguided attempt to protect me. You know, the usual.”

“As if Captain Raydor needs protecting,” Andrea said, sitting down.

“That’s what I told him. And then I made it clear what I needed instead.”

Andrea nodded. “Clear communication is your specialty, Captain.”

“I guess it is, isn’t it?”

“Most of the time anyway. And how is Julio doing?” Andrea asked. “I had my doubts, but he does round out the division nicely, I think.”

Sharon smiled. “I think he’ll be just fine. And I’ve been working with him.”

“You’re good at that too,” Andrea said.

Sharon raised a brow. “Two compliments in as many minutes. What’s up, counselor?”

“I should take offense to that, but I’ll forgive you. This time.”

“Mmm hmm. You also didn’t answer my question.”

“You want to grab a coffee?”

Sharon peered at the other woman. “Coffee?” Really? “Okay, sure. Just let me see what Rusty’s up to. He’s researching for his school newspaper,” she said. “I’m so proud to see him work so hard, but--”

“--You hope he’s devoting as much time to his actual classes.”

Sharon nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well, you never know. He may have a career in journalism, or writing even. Find something he’s passionate about, like his mother.”

“I wasn’t until recently, not really,” Sharon said. “I think I needed a challenge.”

“And you got it in spades.”

They shared a laugh. “It’s been good, though. Great. Most of the time, anyway.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What was Rusty up to?” Andrea asked. She sipped her skinny latte.

“Remember Alice?” Sharon asked. “Or Jane Doe Number--”

“--I remember. I haven’t attended many memorial services with the Major Crimes division after all.” She sighed. “What does Alice have to do with Rusty?”

Sharon smiled. “It’s the case he’s chosen to investigate for his paper.” She swallowed too much coffee and tried to cover her gaffe. It didn’t work, as some ended up on her shirt. “You can’t take me anywhere.”

“I don’t know. It’s kind of endearing,” Andrea said. “But what about Rusty? Isn’t that case, I don’t know, old news?”

“Not if he identifies her.”

“A team of highly trained and mostly competent detectives couldn’t do that.”

Sharon nodded. “My team wasn’t trying to identify Alice. We were trying to catch her killer,” she said. “I think you’ll find a resourceful journalism student with a lot of time on his hands can be quite effective.”

Andrea smirked. “Well, good for Rusty. I just hope it doesn’t hurt our case.”

“The best prosecutor in LA can handle it, I’m sure.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

“He’s hurting my case,” Andrea said in a huff.

Rusty had returned to campus, mouthing a ‘sorry’ to Sharon and avoiding eye contact with Andrea before exiting Sharon’s office.

“Is he?” Sharon raised a brow. “From what I understand, he simply talked to the last person to see Alice alive.”

“Well, now I have to listen to the recording. So I guess we’ll see how bad the repercussions are.” Andrea sighed. “At least we’ll be meeting with Judge Grove. He’s always fair.”

“And he likes Rusty.”

Andrea nodded. “That too.”

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry if this is impacting your work, but I have to support him in this,” Sharon said. “What was it you said about passion?” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Something about Alice speaks to Rusty, fires him up,” said Sharon. “He has to see this through.”

Andrea didn’t say anything.

“Besides, I think you were getting a little complacent, counselor. Maybe the challenge will be good for you.” Sharon was sure her eyes sparkled from her contained laughter.

Andrea laughed. “Maybe.”

“He likes you, you know.”

“I do.” Andrea said, “And the part of me that isn’t worried about losing this case is really proud of him.”

Sharon smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about what he uncovers. So far, Alice is the hero of her own story.”

“Like Rusty.”

“Exactly. Now, would you like some coffee before we discuss our current case?”

Andrea sighed. “Yes, please.” She shook her head. “Still can’t believe you’re making a deal with this guy.”

“We’ve made deals with worse people in the past. We don’t have to like it, or him, but if he can help solve the murder, that has to take precedence,” Sharon said. “And I never said we couldn’t get creative later.”

Andrea stood. “Don’t remember you being this devious in IA.”

Sharon’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I wasn’t. I guess working with Provenza and Flynn has rubbed off on me.” She rose and guided Andrea to the coffee lounge.

“Are we still on for this weekend?” Andrea asked.

“Of course. I’ll call you tonight.” Sharon squeezed Andrea’s shoulder.

They fixed their coffees and returned to Sharon’s office. Working so closely together wasn’t always easy - or comfortable - but they would make it work.

“Speaking of getting creative,” Andrea said.

Sharon laughed. “Later.”

Fic: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Nine

newnumbertwo — Wed, 13 May 2015 13:49:25 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Nine
Rating: M
Word Count: 3600
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Fandom(s): Harry Potter, Major Crimes
Characters: Sharon, Rusty, Severus
Pairing: Sharon/Severus
Summary: Rusty gains perspective and advice by listening to Severus; Sharon and Severus continue to grow closer; The trial and field operation loom ahead...
A/N: This is it - the final chapter. Although I may return to this 'verse in some form. Perhaps "snapshots" if the muse cooperates. Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for latching onto this idea with me and helping me convince myself this was a viable project. Thanks to my readers for going along on this ride with me. *hugs*
A/N2: First Chapter

Rusty gazed at her from across the table as though he was trying to discern her mood. “What?” she asked.

“You were acting kinda funny last night.”

She nodded. “Something came up.”

“Involving Mr. Prince?”

“In a manner of speaking, yeah.”

Rusty frowned. “I don’t think I understand.”

“Lieutenants Provenza and Flynn shared some concerns with me.”

“About Mr. Prince?”

She nodded. “And I knew I wanted to speak with him before jumping to any conclusions.”

“And?”

She smiled. “And he told me everything.”

He nodded. “So you’re still, like, dating, or whatever.”

“Probably closer to the ‘or whatever’ right now. But yes.”

“What did he tell you?”

She met his eyes. “That isn’t my story to tell. Maybe he’ll share it with you sometime, but Rusty, I have to tell you it still hurts him - badly - and he may never want to.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I think I can understand that. Are you gonna try to send him to therapy too?”

She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps I will.”

He laughed. “Can you imagine if we went together, Sharon?! The poor guy wouldn’t know what hit him.”

“Severus? Or the therapist?”

“Come on. I’m pretty sure Mr. Prince can handle a therapist.”

She nodded. “Seriously, though, I think you’ll like the one I found. He’s worked with the LAPD before, so he’s familiar with the kinds of cases and requirements. He plays chess--”

“Good chess, right?”

“Yes, good chess. Severus gave me a screening question.”

He nodded. “Oh, good.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Mr. Prince asked.

Rusty shook his head. “Not really. I mean, Sharon found him for me, so he can’t be too bad, and we’ll be in one of the conference rooms in the department. I can handle it.”

“Of course you can.”

“He’ll see everything he needs to know by watching me play.”

Prince nodded. “And he’ll see you’re highly adaptive and quick thinking. Good qualities to have for an operation of this calibre, I’d imagine.”

“So would you sign off on it? I mean if it was up to you?”

Prince’s brow furrowed. “In this case, I feel much like Sharon does. Taking solely your abilities into account, yes, I can see you being very successful in the field. But then I consider your safety, that you haven’t been trained… This is the best of limited options.”

Rusty nodded. This was the closest Mr. Prince had come to saying he cared for Rusty, but he figured actions spoke louder than words, especially where Mr. Prince was concerned. “They’ll train me. Before the actual operation. And I know Sharon and her team. They won’t leave me unprotected.”

“This...situation you’re in isn’t unlike my own past.”

Rusty met his eyes. “Really? Sharon mentioned it was painful - don’t worry, she didn’t say anything, except that you may not want to talk about it. Ever.”

His mouth quirked. “I reserve the right to be...choosy about what I share, but perhaps my experiences can help give you some perspective.”

Rusty nodded.

“It all started whilst I was at university….”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty barreled through the door without so much as a hello to Severus, who had been waiting in front of the apartment for their return. Perhaps she should consider giving him a key. Were they at that stage yet? Maybe stages didn’t even matter for them.

Unperturbed, Severus said, “I take it his session didn’t go well.”

She shook her head. “Actually, it did. He won’t admit it, but he seems to like Dr. Joe.” She smiled. “And I think Dr. Joe beat him, so he’ll probably--”

“--Of course. Together we can crack the good doctor’s strategy, I’m sure.”

She nodded. “But then Emma Rios had to come into the murder room full of righteous indignation. How dare I seek treatment for my son?” She rolled her eyes. “Rusty let her have it, and neither Lieutenant Provenza nor I lifted an eyebrow to stop him.” She sighed. “But then she opened her big mouth about how his attending therapy would be made public during the trial.”

“Which brings us to date,” he said.

“Yup.” She gestured inside. “Shall we?”

He held open the door for her.

“I apologize on his behalf. For now.”

He waved it aside.

He may be sensitive when it came to her, but he could easily handle the volatile disposition of a teenager. Good.

Rusty was flopped face-down on the sofa. She rolled her eyes at Severus, who was clearly resisting the urge to chuckle. He calmly approached the sofa.

“I’m afraid I’m not in the right presence of mind for our lessons today,” Severus said.

Rusty murmured something unintelligible into the cushion, but then he leaned up on his elbows. “No? Did you have a crappy day too?”

Severus nodded. “Indeed.” He paused. “So I was thinking you and Sharon could show me more American customs. If you’d be so kind as to help me take my mind off of it?”

“Yeah, sure. If by American, you mean burgers, I’m in.” Rusty sat up straight. “Is it cool if I take a shower first?”

“By all means,” Severus said.

Rusty darted from the sofa to the hall bathroom.

She hugged Severus from behind. “Thank you.”

He faced her and pulled her in for a tighter hug. “I know what it feels like - to have the rug pulled out from under you. I can’t fix that for him, but this, this I can do.”

“It’s enough.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Stepping out of the shower, he felt much fresher, in a way that had nothing to do with soap. Maybe people would find out about his therapy sessions. Maybe they would find out about Griffin Park too. He couldn’t do anything about that. And as much as he hated being sacrificed so Emma could have her moment of glory in the courtroom, he also didn’t want Stroh to hurt anyone ever again. Mr. Prince - or Snape rather - had lost his home, his country, and everything else in order to see a madman killed. Rusty could never hope to be that brave or heroic, but he could survive having his dirty laundry aired before the world if it meant Phillip Stroh would spend the rest of his life in jail. And if he lost his home as a result, well, he could survive that too.

When he entered the living room, Snape was holding Sharon like he never wanted to let her go, and she seemed so happy to be needed like that. When they broke apart, Sharon smiled at Rusty. “Ready?”

Neither of them had said anything about his behavior, but he should apologize. Then he should listen to them, because if there is one thing he learned through all of this, it’s Emma Rios doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She crawled into his lap. It was unexpected but quite pleasant. She kissed his neck through the turtleneck. “What has brought this on?” he asked.

She pulled back to look at him. “You.”

He chuckled “And how have I done that?”

So far as he knew, he hadn’t behaved any differently than usual. And women had never exactly fallen all over him.

“Just by being you.”

Her eyes were decidedly green in this lighting, and they were pulling him in. She fidgeted under his gaze. She’d taken a risk and was obviously beginning to wonder if it would pay off. He ran his hand through her hair. “So soft. Like the finest feather.”

He pulled her back to him and kissed her. She moaned against his mouth. He catalogued the sound, determined to repeat the experiment for similar results.

She pulled a corner of his shirt until she freed it from his trousers. Then she systematically untucked it before running her hands up his stomach and chest under the turtleneck. He shook, enough to break contact with her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“You tickled me, is all. Wasn’t expecting it.”

Of course, because he’d said that, she did it again. He covered her hands with his, but she kept going. Finally, he broke down and chuckled. She joined in.

When they calmed down, she said, “Sorry, not sorry.”

“Ha! Perhaps there’s something to that nickname of yours.”

“I never said otherwise.” She ran her hand through his hair. “It’s just that you aren’t intimidated by Darth Raydor.”

“Yes, I find Sharon much more effective.” He kissed her jawline, her neck, and found those results desirable as well.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

He pulled back to meet her eyes.

“I guess what I mean is how far do we want to go,” she said.

“I’m content just to hold you awhile. I’ve never known such...warmth.”

She lay her head against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Stay the night?” she asked.

“And Rusty?”

“Would love to have breakfast with you.”

“How can I refuse?”

She stood and held out her hand to help him up. She didn’t let go as she led them to her room.

“It suits you,” he said. The pale champagne colour on the walls fit her perfectly: calm, soothing. A place where she could lay her head after a long day.

“I like it.” She let go of his hand. “Well.”

“Well.” He sat at the foot of the bed. It was a good mattress. The perfect combination of firm and plush.

She fidgeted. “I’ll, um, go change.” She patted his leg. “Make yourself comfortable.”

She disappeared into the powder room.

If he got too comfortable, he was liable to fall asleep, which wasn’t the desired effect. There was also the question of his clothing, but he could slip off his shoes and remove his belt. Beyond that, it would be up to her.

When she returned, she was a vision in red and lace. “Beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” She was modest without being false. Nervous and anxious but not insecure. She straddled his lap. “Hi.”

He cupped her face before kissing her. She clearly enjoyed the sensation of their tongues meeting as much as he. He came up for air. Her ears caught his attention. How many times had he seen them without noticing? He licked a shell.

She giggled.

“You don’t like that?”

“No, I do.” She smiled. “It tickled, is all.”

“Has anyone informed you that you have perfectly symmetrical ears?”

“Can’t say they have, no. Hmm. No one’s ever mentioned them.”

“An unacceptable oversight.”

She laughed. Then she wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned her head against his chest. “You make it so easy.”

“What’s that?”

She raised her head to look at him. “To be with you.”

“Should we talk about our...expectations?”

She hmmed. “Perhaps we’d better. You can go first, if you want.” That shyness had set in again.

He stroked her cheek. “It may surprise you to learn I’m not very experienced in this department.” She didn’t react outwardly, but he knew she was processing that. “I don’t date much, I mean.” Let her make of that what she will.

“Oh, neither do I. Being married puts a damper on that.”

“And your husband?”

“We haven’t been...together for years. And the last time, it wasn’t good.” She looked away.

He growled. “Did he--”

“--No. It was just...the end, you know. I’d already decided we should be apart. He wanted to change my mind.” She shook her head. “He only managed to strengthen my resolve.”

He held her tighter. “Has anyone ever successfully changed your mind about anything?”

“You and Rusty have, actually.”

“Me? In what regard?”

She kissed his nose, which was more affection than that unfortunate hook had ever received. “First, you made me see there was so much more to you.” She ran her fingers through his hair. It wasn’t as greasy since he’d left the dungeons, but still not his proudest feature. “Then, you made me respect you.” She kissed his neck. “Tonight you made me love you.”

“Now?”

“No. Well, yes, but it was earlier.”

“Do tell.”

“The ease with which you talk to Rusty. I...it’s silly.”

He held her face and brought it to his. “What?”

“I wished you and I could have raised my... our children.”

He could easily see it: He and Sharon making a life together, supporting each other through their careers, married, with a few children--their mother in miniature--except for maybe a son with his dark features. It was a beautiful dream, but reality had never looked or felt better. He kissed her and held her with no intention of letting go.

She wasn’t satisfied just sitting there. She reached up under his turtleneck. This time, he made no effort to stop her explorations.

“I love your scars,” she said, running her fingers along a jagged one across and up his back.

“Why?”

“They’re part of you. Of the life you had before you came to me.”

He helped her remove his shirt. She let out a little gasp when she saw it. “Compliments of Nagini.”

He’d looked at it very briefly in the mirror before throwing his shirt on that morning, but he knew it was still red. Angry.

She rubbed it gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. Mostly it just itches.” He’d had trouble speaking for weeks afterward.

“Now?”

He shook his head. “Not all the time. I have a salve for it. And I let it ‘breathe’ when I’m home.”

She kissed it. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“Trusting me with this.” She kissed it again. “What happened to Nagini?”

“I’m assuming she died alongside her master when the cavalry overtook them.” He shrugged. “I was in and out of consciousness for most of the carnage.”

“Lie down.”

He complied.

She lay next to him. “What does it feel like when I kiss it?”

“Good. Normal. No. Better than normal.” It created pleasure in a place where he’d only known pain or discomfort for so long. “May I touch you?”

She mmmed. “Please.”

He angled for easier access. He ran his fingertips along the lace. The texture pleased him, but he needed more. He reached underneath the shift. Her already taut stomach tightened. “Okay?” he asked. “Is my hand too cold?”

He’d always run a bit cold. But after Nagini, his body temperature had become even colder.

“No. It feels good. Keep going. Please.”

With pleasure. His explorations led to a thin, faint, line across the bottom of her stomach.

“My daughter. Emily. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy. Or delivery.”

He lifted her shift enough to kiss it. “Beautiful.”

“She is. Worth every minute.”

He peeled open the maddeningly small buttons, a labor of love.

She giggled at his huff. “Here. Just lift it off,” she said. “No one expects you to use the buttons.”

“Quite.”

She helped him remove the sheer fabric, then she was bared before him.

“Well,” she said.

“Sorry.” He’d been staring. “Just trying to decide what to do first.”

“Mmm.”

He kissed her neck. She made that sound he loved. He moved lower, stopping along her throat, before he landed between her breasts. “What do you like?” he asked.

She reached for his hand and brought it to her breast. “This is a very...forgiving area. Play with them. Use your mouth and fingers, tongue, palms, and even teeth,” she said. “Your imagination too.”

He kneaded them first. Got acquainted with their size and shape. They filled his hands perfectly. “Is this okay?”

“Mmhmm,” she said. “I’m overwhelmed. In a good way.”

“You mean--”

“--I think so. Pinch them.”

He pinched her nipples. He applied just enough pressure to elicit a moan. He released, and pinched them again. And again. They felt like pebbles.

“So close,” she said.

He licked her ear. “What do you need?”

“Mmm. Touch me. Won’t take much.”

He rubbed her mound through her panties.

“More.”

He slid a finger under the fabric and explored. She grabbed his hand and showed him where she needed him. “Circles? Or flicks?” he asked.

“Circles.”

He listened for moans or groans as he rubbed her. Her breathing increased. It wouldn’t be long.

“Now,” she said.

He simultaneously pinched her nipple and button; that was all it took. She screamed his name. He released her as she came down. He licked his finger: tasted like her. He lay next to her, kissing her.

His erection poked rather insistently against her hip. She laughed and cupped him. “Your turn, honey.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He moaned at the contact. “Feel okay?” she asked.

“Very nice,” he said. “Won’t last long, if you keep that up.”

She stroked him harder. “Guess you’re ready, then.”

“And you?”

“Couldn’t get any more ready.”

He helped her remove his boxers. “What do you need?” he asked.

She lay on her back. “You. Now.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Captain,” as he lay above her. He pushed his way inside. “Okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. It had been so long. “Keep going.” She arched up to help him.

He moved slowly as she adjusted. “I’m not hurting you?”

How had she ever thought he was inconsiderate? If anything, he was too much so. They would have to remedy that. She stroked his face. “Feels good.” She moaned as he reached it. “So good.” Then he started moving. Finally. “Yes!” She shouted.

“Coming.”

She reached between them for her clit. He covered her fingers with his. Perfect.

He came with a final grunt. Then he rubbed her faster, just like she’d shown him. She screamed his name, and it was over.

He collapsed next to her, and she buried her head in his neck, kissing his scar.

“Sorry,” he said.

She pushed herself up to look at him. “Whatever for?”

“Not lasting long enough. I wanted us to--”

She placed her finger on his mouth. “It was great. You were wonderful - generous, considerate, attentive.” She kissed him. “Considering the tension between us, it’s a miracle we didn’t combust the second we started.”

He chuckled. “But what a way to go.”

She hugged him. “Hmm.”

“I love you,” he said.

She held him tighter, communicating with her embrace that she was there with him. They were real. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Me too,” she said. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The sensation in his nose stirred him. He opened his eyes. Her hair had scattered; a strand had found its way to his nose. Her head rested on his chest, her arms around his waist. He ran his hand through her hair, fixing it. He kissed the top of her head. She mmmed but didn’t awaken.

He extracted himself from her embrace, leaving his pillow to hold in his stead. He dressed. There wasn’t much to be done about his bedhead until he showered. He padded into the kitchen.

He didn’t know when she needed to rise, but coffee makes the politician wise. It would likely work wonders for them as well. He plugged in and started the Keurig. Then he reached in the cabinet for three mugs.

A bedroom door opened, then closed. Heavy footsteps in the hall. Rusty, no doubt.
“Morning,” Rusty said, from the breakfast bar.

“Good morning. Coffee?”

Rusty nodded. “Definitely. Sharon wants me to shadow her team today. Unofficially, she says.” He shrugged. “All I do is ‘shadow’ them.”

“Perhaps she’s worried you’re getting bored here.”

He snorted. “Too late for that,” he said. “But I’m grateful that everyone’s, you know, working with me, protecting me.” He met Severus’s eyes. “And thanks, Mr. Prince, for...everything.”

Severus retrieved the full coffee mug. “How do you take it?”

Rusty told him sweet and light, and Severus complied. He placed the mug in front of Rusty. “You’re quite welcome,” he said. “And when we’re not in school, you may call me Severus. If you want.”

“Because you’re dating Sharon?”

“And because our acquaintance has outstripped the necessity of formality.”

Rusty grinned. “In other words, we’re friends.”

Severus sipped his black coffee. “Quite,” he said. “What does she like for breakfast?”

“Everything really. Eggs. Cereal when we’re in a hurry. Toast. Jack tried to impress her by making pancakes.” He snorted. “It didn’t work.”

“No?”

Rusty shook his head. “With Jack, it was like, everything was...forced. He wanted her approval, wanted me to like him. But, he didn’t want to apologize for anything.” He shrugged. “A lot like my mom, I guess.” He frowned. “I hope Dr. Joe doesn’t make me talk about her.”

“Think of it like taking control of the center. The session can only accomplish what you allow it to. If he pushes, hold firm,” he said. “On the other hand, you may find it...beneficial to face certain unpleasant truths.”

“I’ll deal with plenty of that during the trial.”

He nodded. “Eggs and toast it is, I think. How do you like them?”

“Scrambled with cheese.” Rusty sipped his coffee and placed the mug on the countertop. Then he went to the refrigerator and grabbed the egg carton and a bag of shredded cheese.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The low rumble of Severus’s voice and the higher pitch of Rusty’s, along with the smells of coffee, eggs, and toast woke her up. She threw on her robe and joined them. “Good morning,” she said.

“Hey, Sharon,” Rusty said. “Have a seat. We got this.”

Her boys worked side-by-side. Rusty whisked the eggs, under Severus’s watchful gaze. He glanced her way. “Quite right.”

They would deal with the logistics later. The uncertain future. Danger. All of that could wait. For now, they would enjoy breakfast. Together. “Okay.” She smiled. “I could get used to this.”

Previous

Fic: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Eight

newnumbertwo — Thu, 07 May 2015 00:34:01 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Eight
Rating: T
Word Count: 1871
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Characters: Sharon, Severus, Rusty
Pairing: Sharon/Severus
Summary: Severus's past is finally revealed...
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for everything. *hugs*
A/N2: First Chapter

She could always count on Rusty to drop a bomb in the middle of a murder investigation.

“I figured out what the third option is,” he said.

Of course he had. What is it about chess players? “What third option? There’s just the two options.”

He proceeded to list them, concluding that drawing out their stalker was the best choice. She rolled her eyes and took advantage of the fortuitous appearance of the department buy guy to return to her current case.

“I can’t believe you mentioned option three,” she said to Provenza when they got a spare moment. She led him into her office, where they met Chief Taylor.

For once, the Chief and Provenza were on the same page, which wasn’t hers. “You can’t expect the kid to stay in your condo for the rest of his life,” Provenza said.

No, she couldn’t. “In situations like this, it’s all about control,” she said.

Chief Taylor nodded. “Exactly. And we don’t have it now. The bad guy does. He has Rusty and you living in fear. And the LAPD running around trying to protect you both.”

Provenza rounded on her like a python who’d seen the opportunity to strike and went for it. “What would Rusty want?”

“He’d want to help.”

Then he sweetened the pot, giving her a little more control because she would be in a position to negotiate with Rusty and use her demands as leverage. She still didn’t like it, but everyone was right: ultimately it was in her son’s best interest.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Severus met them at the apartment after she and Rusty left the department for the day. They went inside and ate the Indian takeout Severus had picked up on the way. He showed them how to eat each item.

“When did you learn this?” Rusty asked.

“At university. My first flatmate was from India, and we thought it prudent to learn about each other’s customs.”

“It’s very good,” she said.

Severus nodded. “It’s the best place I’ve found this side of the pond.”

When they were finished, Severus boiled water and poured it into three mugs, squeezing a lemon slice and pouring a spoonful of honey into each mug.

“What’s this for?” Rusty asked.

“To help settle our stomachs. We’re unaccustomed to all the heavy spices and flavors.”

Rusty nodded. “Oh, okay.”

“How did it go with Chief Taylor today?” Severus asked.

Rusty shrugged. “Okay, I guess. The Chief made me choose between staying with Sharon or going into witness protection. Which, I mean, my choice was pretty clear. I’m not sure why they bothered. But then Lieutenant Provenza mentioned a third option, but the Chief wouldn’t talk about it.”

“A third option?” Severus asked.

“Yeah. And I figured that out for myself.”

Sharon met Severus’s eyes but said nothing.

“And what have you chosen?”

“Sharon agreed to let me be part of an SIS operation. But she insisted I get evaluated by a therapist first.” He groaned dramatically.

“But then Rusty counter-offered that the therapist must be a chess player.”

“I see,” Severus said.

Rusty yawned. “Well, that was good. But Sharon dragged me out of bed at, like, four in the morning, for some kind of white powder or something.” She rolled her eyes. “Good night,” he said.

“Yes, you were right,” she said after Rusty closed his door.

“But are you okay with it?”

She sighed. “I will be after it’s over.”

////////////////////////////////////////

Lieutenant Provenza thrust the file into Flynn’s hands. “Go put that on the Captain’s desk.”

“What?! No.” He shoved the folder against Provenza’s chest. “You do it.”

Their own demented version of Hot Potato went on for a few moments.

“She trusts you more,” Flynn said.

“But she likes you. Mr. Wedding Date.”

Flynn shrugged. “We’re just friends. She got me out of a jam. I owe her.”

“Ah. You owe her. And what better opportunity than the present.”

Flynn sighed. “Fine. But this might hurt her. Are you prepared for that?”

“Don’t you think the Captain would rather know who she’s entrusting with Rusty?”

Flynn nodded and stepped toward the Captain’s office.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

She shook her head. Her senior detectives were at it again. She couldn’t figure out if the problems started with Provenza or Flynn, because when they were separated, there were no problems, but together…

Provenza was clearly trying to coerce Flynn into doing something, and judging by Flynn’s expression as he approached her office, he’d succeeded.

Flynn knocked on her door.

“Come in.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Captain, you should see this.” He placed a file on her desk.

“What are you and Lieutenant Provenza up to?”

His expression was the guilt under the guise of innocence she would have expected to see had she been a kindergarten teacher. Then he shrugged. “It’s...we were concerned.”

“About?”

“Look at the file, Captain.”

Fine. She opened the folder to discover Severus Prince hadn’t existed until approximately two years ago. The fact wasn’t as shocking as it should have been.

“What do you know about him?” Flynn asked.

He was a good man, a caring and responsible individual, who had always made her and Rusty feel safe. She met Flynn’s eyes. “I know I can trust him.”

He clearly didn’t know what to make of that.

“He’s done too much for Rusty and me. And I’ve seen enough untrustworthy people to know the difference.”

Flynn nodded. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He raised a brow.

“I know you and Lieutenant Provenza are looking out for Rusty.” She didn’t add and me. “And I appreciate that greatly. Truly.”

He exited the office.

So Prince wasn’t his real name. Was Severus? It must be; it fit him too well to be otherwise. He hadn’t existed before coming to LA, but there were no priors with his fingerprints. He didn’t appear to be wanted in connection to any crimes. And from what he’d said of his home, of his past, even the accident in his lab, he was a prime candidate for witness protection.

If she dug deeper, she would discover everything within days. Maybe hours. But did she want to? She trusted him, and he was just beginning to trust her. If she thought Rusty’s safety was on the line, she wouldn’t hesitate. But what if it was Severus’s safety that was at issue? She needed to talk to him and regroup.

She closed the file. What was his real surname? Was it something that went well with Severus? She shook her head and returned to the case at hand.

Neither Provenza nor Flynn bothered her for the rest of the day.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Prince isn’t your name.”

He shook his head. “How did--”

“Two of my detectives.”

He nodded. “Prince was my mother’s maiden name,” he said in almost a whisper. There was a reverence in his voice she hadn’t heard before. “I’m Severus Snape.” His lips curled in a sneer. “My name is the only thing my father ever gave me. He took everything else away.”

She squeezed his hand. “Tell me.”

“He killed my mother and himself. I was a boy.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “I was sent to boarding school. Spent the rest of my youth there before university. As a student, I quickly discovered my talent in chemistry. Along the way, I encountered an intelligence officer and was recruited.” He met her eyes. “I wish I had never met Albus Dumbledore sometimes. But then I wouldn’t have ended up here.”

She smiled sadly. “Rusty and I would miss you.”

“I was sent to infiltrate a madman’s organization. Thomas Riddle was a lot like me in some respects. He’d had an unhappy childhood. Hated his father. He was brilliant and knew it. In his mind, he was the only one suitable to lead the world. And he was perfectly willing to take it by force. I was meant to be his weapon. Or at least to create them.”

“So you were divided between two masters?”

“A bloody pawn, yes. Only Albus was caught up in his own heroics, the old fool, and ended up falling victim to one of Riddle’s nastier traps. Riddle knew the only one who could stop him was Albus. And he’d wanted to test my loyalty.” He sneered. “Riddle was as paranoid as he was brilliant. He ordered me to kill Albus.”

She gasped. She knew him, yes. He didn’t have the heart of a murderer. But someone caught up in a terrible situation, with only one way out, yes, she could see that. See Severus fighting for survival. “What did you do?”

“I killed him. But what no one knows is Albus himself had asked me to. You see, the old man was sick, and not even my skills could have saved him. The best I could do was keep him alive for a while.”

“He didn’t go to the hospital?”

He shook his head. “If he’d gone to a hospital, his department would have figured out he was dying, and they would have taken him off the case. But I was able to make him medicine that didn’t debilitate him the way other cancer drugs do.”

“Then why don’t you--”

“--Sell my creation?” He sighed. “Because it doesn’t cure cancer. It only offsets the symptoms. And not even many of those toward the end.”

Maybe that particular medicine wasn’t perfect. But give him time, and he could create something that worked, something that would save countless lives. She firmly believed that.

“Do you really think the drug companies would allow me to work? To live?” He had obviously tapped into her thoughts. “Besides, I’m trying to keep a low profile, if you haven’t noticed.” There was a slight quirk to his mouth.

“I’d noticed.”

“Anyway, Albus knew he was dying, and he knew toward the end, I needed to appear unquestionably loyal to Riddle, so we set it up. Albus’s heroism would get him trapped, and I would be the one to kill him. Quickly.

He shook his head. “I almost couldn’t do it. He pleaded with me. To a casual observer, it would’ve appeared he was begging for life, but I knew the truth. And I pulled the trigger.”

She squeezed his hand. Whatever he had said about Albus, it was clear he’d had great regard for the man. Perhaps had even loved him. “I’m sorry.”

“After that, Riddle kept me by his side. When I wasn’t in the lab. The intelligence office had no knowledge of my allegiance, although they continued to use the information I sent them. Covertly, of course. I knew my days were numbered.”

“So you took back control.”

He nodded. “I had to die.”

Then he described the snake bite, the venom working through his bloodstream. The antidote, followed by the blood loss, and finally, his destroyed lab.

She’d never let go of his hand through it all.

“If you want me out of your life--”

She shook her head. “It’s too late for that, Severus Snape.” She pulled him toward her, and he came with no resistance. She held him tight. “Entirely too late.”

Previous Next

Fic: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Seven

newnumbertwo — Wed, 29 Apr 2015 19:46:38 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Seven
Rating: T
Word Count: 1600
Fandoms: Major Crimes, Harry Potter
Characters: Sharon, Severus, Rusty
Pairing: Sharon/Severus
Disclaimer: don't own them
Summary: Everyone adjusts to the shift in Sharon and Severus's relationship...
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work and everything. *hugs*
A/N2: First Chapter

“Is Mr. Prince, like, making a move on you, Sharon?” Rusty asked, as she was fixing her coffee.

She snorted. God, Severus would die if he’d heard that. “I suppose you could call it that, yes.” She joined him at the table. “Is that...are you--”

He nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She gazed at him.

“Oh, right.” He shook his head. “Mr. Prince isn’t like them. He wouldn’t...hurt me. Or you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s the guy who made a salve from scratch because someone else hurt me.”

She nodded. “He’s that guy, yes. Responsible. Intelligent. Caring.”

“You left off snarky.”

She laughed. “That too.”

“But you like it, don’t you?”

“I like that he doesn’t let anyone off easily. Not even me.”

“Or me.” He nodded. “So when you two date, what--”

She put up her hand. “I don’t know, Rusty. Really, I don’t.” She shook her head. “I do know we’re going to move very slowly. For all our sakes.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Slow seems like a good thing.” He shook his head. “I don’t have much experience with slow.”

She supposed he didn’t. Not from his mother’s examples. And his own encounters had been the antithesis of slow. Her son had never seen positive or healthy aspects of a relationship. Not even her own example with Jack had shown marriage in the best light. Quite the opposite, in fact. But with Severus, the three of them would see and experience the good with the bad.

“I know I don’t need to tell you this. But Severus is very...sensitive. So--”

“--I shouldn’t bring it up.” He met her eyes. “I won’t.”

“But he may want to talk to you.”

He nodded. “I can just listen. Let him guide.” He laughed. “God, Sharon, I thought it would be different between adults.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is. In some ways, anyway. At least we’re not passing notes.”

“Nobody does that anymore. We text.”

“I suppose that’s one difference.” She finished her coffee and stood. “I gotta go. Be careful. Don’t let anyone in who isn’t me or Severus.”

“I know,” he said in a groan.

She shot him a look.

“Have a good day, Sharon.”

She smiled. “You too.” She left, ready to take on the day.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Mr. Prince stepped inside, he didn’t walk with his usual confidence. He didn’t appear unhappy. More...nervous. From what Sharon had said, Mr. Prince had nothing to be nervous about.

She’d also said not to bring it up. Not that he would. Rusty had always felt comfortable talking to Sharon, about almost everything, but that wasn’t the case with anyone else. “Hey, Mr. Prince. How was school?”

That was friendly enough. Sounded normal, right?

Mr. Prince nodded and grumbled something about dunderheads.

Rusty snorted. “Guess I’m not missing much, then.”

“Not in the slightest.”

They went to the couch and got started. The good news was they’d made enough progress on trig the day before they could focus on chemistry and then chess. It was a double score for both of them, and Mr. Prince visibly relaxed as he explained molality and stoichiometry.

Then Mr. Prince paused and cleared his throat. “While it’s just us,” he started. “I think it would be prudent to clear the air.”

Rusty nodded.

“Your...Sharon and I…”

“I know, sir.”

He nodded. “And does that meet your approval?”

“Sure. I mean, you don’t need my approval. Just...be good to her, okay? I know she acts all badass and strong - and she is - but--”

“--You have my word, Rusty.”

“You really like her, don’t you?”

He nodded swiftly. “Yes. I’ve known no one like her.”

Rusty held out his hand, and Prince shook it. Two pumps. “You probably don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

Prince shook his head. “Not so much.”

“Yeah, no offense, but there’s only so much I need to hear.”

“Duly noted.” Prince opened his chemistry book and pointed out a new formula.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Sharon opened the door, Severus rose to greet her with his usual fluidity. He reached for her bag and kissed her cheek seemingly completely unconcerned by Rusty’s proximity. Good. She squeezed his free hand and smiled. “Honey, I’m home.”

His eyes flashed before he schooled his features. “And how was your day?”

She shrugged. “The suspect confessed to lesser charges, and he’ll go away for life. That’s the best case scenario in my job.”

He nodded. “But it isn’t always enough, is it?”

“No.” She sighed. “It isn’t. It’s always worse when children are involved.”

He put her bag down under the hall table where she usually placed it. Then she found herself being guided into the living room, his hand gentle but firm on her shoulder. “I’m making you tea. The paperwork can wait,” he said as she sat in the armchair.

She nodded. “Tea sounds good.”

He strode into the kitchen. Rusty looked up from his book and snorted.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Sorry you had a rough case.”

“Thanks, honey.” She gave a small smile. “You know, I already feel a little better.” But while they were on the topic... “By the way, Chief Taylor would like to see you tomorrow morning.”

He groaned. “I guess we knew this was coming. He won’t, like, force me to do witness protection, will he? I mean, I’ve been good. Safe.”

“I don’t know. But from what I understand, he’s going to present you with options. And it’s your job to listen.”

“Okay. Will one of my options include getting out of this apartment? Or driving? Seeing my friends?” His eyes were wide. Impassioned.

She sighed. One option did include all of those possibilities, and they both knew it. They also knew he wouldn’t take it. For better or worse, he would stay with Sharon if at all possible, and she would never allow that possibility to be removed, no matter how hard Chief Taylor pushed. Or Rios. And she certainly wasn’t kowtowing to their stalker. If Rusty had the fortitude to live with those threats alone for an entire summer, she could withstand them with the full weight of the LAPD behind her.

“I know I’m being a pain. Sorry, I just…”

“I know, honey.”

He returned his focus to his textbook. His forehead crinkled in concentration.

Severus returned with her tea. “Earl Grey with honey, madam.”

The scent of the leaves soothed her. She mmmed as she reached for the mug. “Thank you.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What bothers you? Is it the case?” Severus asked.

She shook her head. “No. It’s Rusty.” She sighed. “He’s meeting with Chief Taylor tomorrow.”

“Regarding?” He raised a brow.

“His options for the foreseeable future.”

“Which are?”

“Keeping things as they are or having a shot at a normal life in witness protection.”

He nodded. “You know what he’ll choose.”

“I do. And it kills me I can’t give him that.”

He squeezed her hand. “Sharon, you’ve given him everything.”

She scooted closer to his side of the sofa and rested her head against his chest. He stroked her hair.

“Besides, it’s not normality he needs most, but love.”

She smiled. “He does get that here.”

Some of the tension had evaporated. He wrapped his arm around her back, and she molded against him easily, relaxing into his embrace. For the first time in his life, he was needed, trusted, and most notable of all, he wasn’t taken for granted.

“I didn’t ask you about your day,” she said, as though she had been remiss.

He snorted. “Taught privileged dunderheads and then I came here.”

“I always wondered, if all your students fail, what happens?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously LA’s future finest couldn’t possibly fail. There is a curve each quarter. A very sharp one too. And I have to say, Rusty’s former classmates aren’t too broken up to see him gone, aside from Kris, that is. Not that they wished him any malice, mind, but he did break their precious curve.”

She laughed. “Oh, dear.”

He ran his hand along the contour of her back. “Is there a third option?”

She lifted her head to look at him. “For what?”

“For Rusty. Because as invigorating as our afternoons together are, he’s going to start going stir crazy soon. And there’s only so much you or I can do to offset that.”

She sighed. And the tension returned, her back muscles taut. “I know. But I...I just can’t.”

“I understand.”

“He’s had enough attempts on his life for one lifetime.” She shook her head, obviously aware of the fallacy of her argument, but still unwilling to consider it.

“It isn’t my place. I apologize.”

She stroked his face. “You know that’s not what I think. I value you, your perspective. Has anyone ever told you you have a beautiful mind?”

He snorted. “No one has ever referred to any aspect of my person as beautiful.”

“Guess they haven’t really looked.” She grinned. “More for me.”

He kissed her.

She moaned against his lips. “You’re getting better at that.”

“Kissing?”

“Being comfortable with me.”

He held her tighter against him. “I have always been comfortable in your presence. It was more a matter of knowing where you stood.”

“And now that you know?”

“You’ll have to endure more of my kisses.”

She snuggled deeper against his chest. “Good. And Severus, I’ll think about what you said. Truly.”

“In situations like this, it’s all about control.”

She hmmed. “And right now, I don’t have it.”

Previous Next Chapter

Fic: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Six

newnumbertwo — Wed, 22 Apr 2015 20:49:55 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Six
Fandoms: Major Crimes, Harry Potter
Rating: T
Word Count: 2672
Characters: Rusty, Sharon, Snape
Pairing: Sharon/Snape
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Sharon and Severus continue to navigate through their shifting relationship. Rusty observes the adults.
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work and support. *hugs*
A/N2: First Chapter

He burst through his door, threw his bag on the kitchen counter and went to the loo, stripping his turtle-neck along the way. He applauded himself for not scratching his neck. It seemed redder than usual and merited the use of his ointment, which smelled bloody awful, but it did take away the itch and some of the redness.

He brushed his teeth, took off his trousers and threw on his Sabbath shirt, and climbed into bed.

He had run earlier. Perhaps his former foes had been correct - he was a bloody coward.

Sharon was there. Waiting for him. But for how long? At what point would she decide it wasn’t worth the bother and find some other bloke?

He sighed. Maybe he was a snarky bastard, but she had kissed him. He hadn’t handled it well, but she hadn’t cared. The woman had no idea how...potent that was. Her open-armed acceptance.

Still, he had no idea how he would face her the next day.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon fidgeted as she stirred her coffee. Instead of the gentle clockwise wrist motion, her hand shook.

“Sharon, are you, you know, okay?”

She smiled. “Perfectly.”

“And you would tell me if I was in trouble again, right?”

“You need never worry about that. And you’re not. At the moment.”

He nodded. “Right.”

She sipped her coffee and put it down. “I should go. I’m late.” She rushed from the table and went to the door. “The detail is right outside. Will you be okay until Sev--Mr. Prince gets here?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll manage.”

She ignored his cheek. “Good. I’ll be home for dinner.” Then she was gone.

He shook his head. All the work she’d put into fixing her coffee, and she’d only taken a sip. Something wasn’t right. For once, it had nothing to do with him.

He sipped his own coffee.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Mr. Prince arrived, he didn’t look well at all. On his pale face, the dark circles around his eyes really stood out.

“You okay, sir?”

Mr. Prince nodded slowly. “I didn’t sleep well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Mr. Prince waved it off. “It’s a small matter.” He pointed to the math book. “Let’s get sine and cosine mastered.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Tell me again why I need trig.”

Mr. Prince was quiet a moment. “You know, I haven’t the slightest.”

“You don’t use it?”

“Rarely. Chemistry requires its own formulas, as you well know. It’s closer to algebra than any other math subject. Although the more advanced formulae resemble calculus. But it’s different. The numbers and symbols mean something.”

“Like a recipe.”

Mr. Prince nodded. “Exactly.”

“Thanks for being honest.” Prince’s brow furrowed. “I mean about this. Whenever I ask Sharon or Buzz why I need to know something they make up a reason.”

“They want you to learn the material and do well, I’m sure. And who is Buzz?”

There was something in his tone Rusty couldn’t identify. “Oh, he’s the department’s cameraman, or something. He takes all the videos of their crime scenes.” Rusty rolled his eyes. “He’s also my babysitter, or whatever. But he’s pretty cool. They all are.”

“You spent a lot of time in the department, I guess.”

Rusty nodded. “Yeah. They’re, like, my family. Especially now that I’m an orphan.”

“I was an orphan too,” Prince said in little more than a whisper.

“You were?”

Prince nodded. “A long time ago. I was just a boy.”

“What happened?”

Prince shrugged. “I went to boarding school. Discovered I had a sharp mind and went about cultivating it.”

Rusty nodded.

“I didn’t have someone like Sharon.”

“I’m sorry about that. She’s….I’m really lucky.”

Prince smiled. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it was...nice. “She’d say she was the lucky one.”

Rusty sighed. “I don’t know about that. I cause a lot of problems.”

Prince laid his hand on Rusty’s shoulder. “It’s the role of a child to cause...problems, as you say. And the role of an adult to handle them, give the child an example for how to handle such problems in his own life. And Sharon Raydor is more than equipped to handle the worst you can throw her way.”

Rusty nodded. He hadn’t thought about it that way before, but that made sense. It hadn’t been true in his life pre-Sharon. His mother had caused most of their problems, and he’d handled them. Not that he blamed his mother. It had been the drugs, not her. “I think I’m ready to tackle this trig stuff now.” He grinned. “Can we play an extra game of chess, after?”

“Certainly.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

She relieved the detail. Maneuvering the food bags out of the drink tray, she handed each officer a bag with a hamburger and fries. “I hope these are still hot.”

They took the food gratefully, practically saluting her with their free hands. She handed Officer Michaels the beverage tray. “They’re cokes.”

They nodded, thanked her again, and went to their car to eat before beginning their surveillance shift.

She grinned. It didn’t take much to make people happy, sometimes.

She opened the front door, greeted by the sound of Severus’s calm instruction, and was rooted to the spot. For all his protestations to the contrary, Severus was a good teacher. So long as he had the right student.

“Hey, Sharon,” Rusty said. Then, “All right! Burgers.”

She rolled her eyes and entered the living room, intercepted by her eager son. She handed him the bag. “It’s just a snack, Rusty. I’m gonna start dinner.”

He grabbed the bag and looked inside.

“I know I don’t have to remind you of your manners. Or my rules.”

He grinned and returned to their guest. “Ready for a break, Mr. Prince? We gotta eat these at the table, though, because Sharon doesn’t like anyone eating on the couch.”

“Sounds sensible,” Severus said. “Having crumbs on one’s arse isn’t an entirely pleasant experience.”

Rusty laughed. “I guess not.”

The boys moved to the table, and Sharon went into the kitchen. She assembled the ingredients on the counter for a quick casserole.

“Can I offer my assistance?” Severus asked from behind her.

How had he gotten there without her hearing? She shook her head. “I’m good, thanks. What’s Rusty doing?”

“He’s digesting, he says. I think that means he’s studying the chessboard for his next strategy.”

She nodded. “How are you? Really?”

He shrugged. “I’m bloody tired, truth be told.”

“Me too.” She sighed. “I suppose we should talk. Later.”

“Yes.”

They were standing closer than they had the night before. His eyes were focused on her mouth. Maybe he was as tired of talking as she. Good.

“Are you coming back, Mr. Prince?” Rusty asked from the other room.

She stroked Severus’s arm. “Later. Okay?”

He nodded and returned to his charge.

She placed the casserole in the oven, set the timer and joined them in the living room. She sat in the armchair and watched their game.

“Smells good, Sharon,” Rusty said.

Severus nodded.

“We’ll see how it tastes in a bit,” Sharon said. “It’s a new old recipe.”

“I don’t follow,” Severus said.

“It’s something I haven’t made in years. And I don’t believe Rusty has ever had it, so it’s kind of new.” She shrugged. “Ricky reminded me of it today.”

Rusty nodded.

Severus furrowed his brow but said nothing and focused even more on the chessboard. What was going through his head?

“Ricky is my son.”

“Ah,” Severus said.

“He lives in San Francisco, so I don’t see him much. Or my daughter.”

Apparently she hadn’t outgrown the occasional bouts of word vomit.

“You must miss them,” Severus said.

“Sometimes. But with Rusty…” She broke off before she said too much. “It’s nice.”

“But you talked to him today?” Rusty asked.

“Yes. He had a question. Something about his job.” She waved her hand. “Some technical thing I can’t even begin to understand. But there was a question of legality, which I could understand.” She paused. “Anyway, he talked about my casserole being his favorite food from childhood, and I started craving it too.”

“I’m honored you’re sharing it with me, then,” Severus said.

Rusty nodded and moved a chess piece, then groaned.

Severus ended the game three moves after that. “I take it you know where you went wrong.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Perhaps we should break until dinner.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty went to bed after redeeming his loss from the previous game. For his part, Severus had never been more content to lose a game. Watching the boy develop his skills daily...it made some folks’ devotion to education make sense.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever love his job. He’d loved his work at one time - when Albus had first recruited him he’d felt like he’d belonged somewhere for the first time in his life. But that had quickly soured. Life at the school wasn’t bad, though. He would always be something of an outsider among the other teachers. And the children were dunderheads mostly. But there were a few - like Rusty - who could make his new career seem worthwhile.

Sharon had gone to her desk to work after dinner. He could feel her eyes on him. It was time.

He rose from the sofa and approached her desk. “I suppose we should talk.”

She nodded and closed her computer. “Have a seat. You look ready to drop.”

He sat in front of her. “I’m just now realizing how tired I am.”

“Me too.” A small smile. “Do you want coffee? Or tea?”

“Coffee would be fine, if you want it.” He gestured to her. “Won’t it keep you up?”

“I doubt it. And if it ensures you getting home safely, it’s worth it.” She stood and went into the kitchen. He followed her. She plugged in one of those Keurig contraptions and turned it on. “It’ll just be a moment.”

“What are we…” He found he had no idea what to say.

She took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m very tired, so I’m just gonna put it out there. I like you.” She met his eyes. “And I have reason to believe it’s mutual.”

He nodded. “It is.”

She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Yes.”

She laughed. “I guess you’re right. But you know what, I’m old, and this is either gonna work out or it’s not, but I think we’re worth the risk.”

He squeezed her hand. “You’re much braver than I, madam. And you’re not old.” He stroked her face. “I admire you for your experiences. How they’ve shaped you. The way you are with Rusty, your team. Your children. I just...where do I fit?”

She held his hand against her cheek. “I think you fit in fine right here.”

“And Rusty?”

“Rusty’s the one who told me you liked me.” Severus gasped. “Don’t worry. He’s the only one who noticed for a long time, I’m sure. The thing with Rusty is, well, he has very sharp instincts about people. Especially...relationship negotiations.”

“His past? The part that’ll get dragged out during the trial?”

She nodded. “What he did, he did to survive. And it was his...awareness that probably saved his life.”

Yes, he could relate to that. “I think the water’s ready,” he said.

She put the k-cup inside and let the machine brew.

“I suppose I should ask you to dinner.”

She hesitated, but he could see it was a no.

“Never mind. That’s…”

“Severus.” His head snapped up to meet her eyes. “I would love to go to dinner with you.” She gestured toward Rusty’s room. “But I wouldn’t feel right leaving him. Not until I know he’s safe.”

He nodded. Perhaps he should have known, but he’d had little reason to trust anyone in his life. It wouldn’t be easy for him to start.

“But if you’re willing to dine in - with us - in the meantime, I think a raincheck is in order.”

“You drive a hard bargain, madam.” He smirked. “Deal.”

“Well, all right then.” There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “How do you take your coffee?”

She pulled out his mug and replaced it with an empty one, then she threw out the used k-cup and put a fresh one in its place.

“Black is fine.”

She suppressed a shudder.

“You have something against black coffee?”

“Not particularly, no. It’s just not how I like it.”

“Well, I’m not as sweet as you. Or as light.” She raised her eyebrows. “Inside, I mean,” he said.

“There are people, including the officers I work with now, who have disagreed with you.”

She fixed her coffee, as light and sweet as he would have expected.

“You were unpopular at work?”

She laughed. “You have no idea. I’ve been called Darth Raydor and The Wicked Witch of the West. And the troublesome twins - Flynn and Provenza - perfected drawing falling houses on my caricature.”

She led him to her dining room table.

“Interesting discussion for our first date, I guess,” she said.

He chuckled. “We got the throat clearing out of the way months ago.” He sipped his coffee. “Good flavor. And it’s light enough a roast to taste good. They treat you well at work now, right?”

“Yes. We’ve become quite a team.”

He nodded. “Rusty considers them his family.”

She smiled. “I’m so glad that he said that. And unprompted. I’ve tried to get that idea through to him, but you never know what sticks with teens. Adults too.”

“Is that a reference to me?”

She shrugged. “Applies to most people I know, and yes, including you.” She locked her gaze with his. “Whatever has brought you here - the accident in your former lab, perhaps - whatever it is, it hasn’t let you go. I don’t presume to know what you’ve been through--”

“Good. You couldn’t possibly.”

She nodded. “But I know it’s shaped you. For better or worse. And that includes how you relate to me.”

He sighed. “It’s entirely too late and we’re much too tired for us to delve into that labyrinth tonight. But you’re right. As I suspect is a common occurrence.”

Her eyes twitched as they did when she was amused and satisfied. And she made no objection to his claim. “There’s always our next date,” she said. He must have blanched because she added, “Whenever you’re ready. I can wait.”

“And if I never am?”

“Then you aren’t.”

“But it’s my trust you want, correct?” She nodded. He continued, “You’ve never given me reason not to, and I know on some level that I can, but--”

“I understand, Severus. This gives me something to work up to.”

“When did I earn such faith?” He raised a brow.

She smiled. “Sometime between storming into my office and giving Rusty that salve.”

He chuckled.

They sipped their coffees. When he finished, he reluctantly set down his mug. He remembered his manners, stood, picked up the cup, and reached out his hand to take hers. She thanked him as she handed it to him.

He loaded them into the dishwasher, following the pattern she and Rusty had previously established.

He sighed. There was no point in delaying further. It was time to go.

When he returned to the dining room, he didn’t have to say anything. She stood, and they walked to the door. This time he took the initiative. He leaned forward and pecked her lips. So soft and warm. Yielding. She held his head against hers, and when the connection between their mouths broke, she muttered something about preventing him from becoming skittish again. He grinned. “Are you prepared to do that often?”

She hmmed. “As much as necessary.”

Good to know. “Good night, Sharon. Sleep well.”

She opened the door and he stepped out, knowing he would get a full night’s rest for once.

Previous Next

Fic: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Five

newnumbertwo — Wed, 15 Apr 2015 20:07:42 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Five
Fandom(s): Major Crimes, Harry Potter
Rating: T
Word Count: 3167
Characters: Sharon, Snape, Rusty
Summary: The three respond to a necessary adjustment...
A/N: Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work and support. *huggles*
First Chapter

“And why did the police interrupt my class to pick up Rusty?”

She rolled her eyes although he couldn’t see. “Perhaps my commanding officer overreacted. But we had to operate under the assumption Rusty was in imminent danger.”

“In my chemistry lab, Sharon, the only thing he need fear is my wrath if he destroys one of my beakers.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “I’m sure. But I doubt he would have been so well-protected in his next class.”

“I concede your point.” A pause. “Is it truly serious?”

“It is. There have been many letters, and it’s clear this person knows Rusty’s schedule very well.” She sighed. “For all I know it could be you.”

“Now, why would I risk interruptions in my class or the loss of my best chess player?” He paused. “What are you going to do?”

“For now, he won’t leave my apartment except to come with me to work. He’ll have round-the-clock security until my commanding officer and I can come up with a solution.”

“All this over a trial,” he muttered.

“Tell me about it.”

“I can perhaps tutor him at your flat. Maybe play chess with him too. If that’s acceptable.” He snorted. “I’d hate for his skills to atrophy.”

She smiled. The man was full of surprises. “He’d love that.”

They arranged for the sessions to begin the next afternoon, and she provided directions to her apartment. After she hung up, Rusty had come out of his bedroom into the living room - he’d been hiding there since they’d come home from their meeting. “You look...I don’t know, almost happy. Did you decide to send me to witness protection or something?”

She shook her head. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He sat next to her on the sofa. “Sorry, Sharon. I know I’m a problem for you, again. And I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want to go, and I don’t want you to leave. So that means we’ll each have to agree to certain...concessions that Chief Taylor and Emma give us.” She met his eyes. “And you’ll have to follow them to the letter.”

He nodded. “I’ll do anything to stay here. I mean as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good. And at least we can count on Lieutenant Provenza’s support.” She gestured to her phone. “Speaking of support, that was Mr. Prince on the phone.”

“He was probably pissed his class was interrupted.”

“He was concerned, yes. He also offered to tutor you. Here.”

He nodded.

“And the best part is he’ll play chess with you.”

His eyes widened. “I’ve never played against him before.”

“You think he’s good?”

He nodded quickly and firmly. “The moves he teaches us are advanced, Sharon. Like, amazing.”

She smiled. “Well then, this works out.”

“Yeah. Um, I’m surprised you haven’t yelled at me yet.”

“Do I need to yell at you? Would that make you feel any better or worse?”

“I guess not. I know I screwed up.”

“Yes, you did. But there’s no point in calling further attention to it. The best thing we can do is decide where to go from here and work together to keep you safe.”

“You know I’m sorry, right?”

She nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out.” She sighed. “I hate that you were carrying that all on your own all summer.”

“I can take care of myself, Sharon.”

“You took care of yourself. And I’m glad you could, can. But now you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I guess I keep forgetting that.”

She smiled sadly. “I guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you until you remember.”

“And if I never do?”

“You will, Rusty, you will. Now, I’m going to bed. It’s been an exceptionally long day today.”

He got off the couch and wished her a good night and started for his room.

“Good night,” she said. “And Rusty?” He faced her. “No matter what, I love you, and that’ll never change.”

He nodded and continued into his room.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She tied together enough loose ends for their latest case so she could work from home for the afternoon. Provenza had muttered about the “stiff” coming over, but he’d volunteered to pick up any slack, “For the boy, of course,” he’d been quick to add.

She hurried home although she knew the detail was there with Rusty. When she pulled into the garage, a green civic was parked in the spot next to hers. Mr. Prince got out of his car and stood next to her door. She lowered her window. “Perfect timing,” she said.

“Quite. Do you require assistance carrying anything?”

She shook her head. “Just the one bag today.”

He stepped aside so she could open her door, and she grabbed her bag and led him to the elevator.

In the confined space, his presence was overwhelming. She had no idea what, if anything, to say.

“How’s the investigation going?” He asked.

She raised her brow.

“With Rusty, I mean.”

“Oh, that. Yes, we’re working every possible lead and angle.” She sighed. “But we’re not getting results. At least not as quickly as we would like. It’s different when…”

“...it’s your child. Yes, I understand. And how is Rusty dealing with all of this?”

“As well as can be expected. I think he’s relieved not to be carrying the burden alone anymore.”

He nodded.

The bell rang when they arrived at her floor. When the front of the elevator slid open, he reached out his arm and held his hand against the door. “After you, madam.”

She stepped out, and he followed. As they approached her apartment, she saw the security detail standing at parade rest outside her door. She smiled at them. “Thank you, I have it from here. Have a good evening.”

They nodded and the officer in charge said they would be monitoring the radio from their car until the relief team arrived.

The detail entered the elevator and disappeared as it closed. She led Severus inside. “Rusty?”

He rose from the sofa and came to the door. “Hey, Sharon. Hi, Mr. Prince.”

“Hello, Rusty," Mr. Prince said. "You’re looking well.”

Rusty nodded. “Yes, sir.” He focused on Sharon. “I’m glad you guys are here. I was getting stir-crazy, or something.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that.”

“Oh, yes it was, Sharon.” His head shook with conviction. “I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to go back to school.”

Severus chuckled. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

“Should I be scared, Mr. Prince?”

“Only of my chess moves.” He flicked his eyes to Sharon at his side. “Once we finish your course work, of course.”

She smiled, and Rusty snorted. “With you both here, I don’t stand a chance, do I?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Probably not.”

“I’ll go get set up then,” Rusty said. He disappeared into his bedroom.

She patted Severus’s arm. “Thanks again for...for everything.”

“I’m even more glad of my decision than before, Sharon. He’s...if he can make a joke, then he’s okay.”

She nodded. “I hope so.” She shook the sadness away and smiled. “I’ll show you around. It’s not much, but…”

“It’s lovely, Sharon. Trust me.”

“Oh, well, thank you.”

She led him into the living room/study area. “You two can work on the couch or the dining room table if that’s more comfortable. Rusty usually sits on the couch with his computer, and he practices chess at the table.”

He nodded. “Whichever he prefers is fine.” He glanced behind her at the far wall. “Lovely paintings.”

She looked at the artworks in question although she didn’t need to. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

He shook his head. “Nice colors. Goes with the dark wall.”

“Thank you. I was on a decorating tear a few years ago.”

He chuckled.

Rusty emerged with his book bag and chess set. He plopped everything on the coffee table and sat on the couch dramatically, which gave further indication of his mood. Severus was in for quite a challenge.

Severus took one look at the boy and said, “Sit up straight, lad. Good posture improves learning.”

He joined Rusty on the sofa, and Sharon smiled at the pair, then sat at her desk and opened her own computer.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Checkmate.”

Rusty threw up his hands. “Again! I...it’s like I could see it in slow motion but do nothing to stop it.” He met Prince’s eyes and held out his hand to shake. “Good game, Mr. Prince.” He laughed. “And you were right, I should be afraid of your moves.”

They shook hands, and Prince chuckled, but then he became serious again. “You say you could see it. In slow motion. So you know how I beat you, then?”

Rusty nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Are you up for another game? Or would you rather deal with your rumbling stomach?”

“Didn’t even notice. But I guess I am hungry, yeah.” He looked over at Sharon. Her brows were furrowed in concentration. “Maybe I should start dinner,” he said to Mr. Prince. “Would you like…I mean can you stay for dinner?”

Sharon poked her head up from behind the computer screen. “Are you guys getting hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna make dinner,” Rusty said.

Sharon nodded. “Great.” She glanced at Mr. Prince. “Would you like to join us?”

Prince chuckled. “Since you’ve both offered, I do feel obligated to stay, but only so long as I’m not imposing.”

Rusty grinned. “Not at all.”

He stood and went into the kitchen, already visualizing his moves for the next game.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The chair was suddenly too stiff. Only it wasn’t the chair. The dining room set was quite lovely - just like the rest of their flat. It was his restlessness that was the problem.

“Are you okay, Severus?” Sharon asked. “We’re not overworking you, are we?”

He chuckled. “Not at all.” He returned to the sofa and sat with as much grace as he could muster. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun.” A quick review of past events confirmed it. “Ever.”

She nodded. “Oh, I’m glad. That you’re enjoying yourself, that is.”

“And you? Are you overworked?”

She smirked. “You have no idea.” She tilted her head the way she did when she was thinking sometimes, which made him anticipate what she was going to say next. “It’s not that it’s new. Not really. Before, when I was in Internal Affairs, I mean, I was responsible for finishing my investigations within 72 hours. That’s how long the city, the department gave me to determine if my officers required personnel actions.”

He nodded. “That’s...fast.”

“Yes, so I’ve been adapting my former practices to my leadership of the Major Crimes Division, and I’d say we’ve had good results.” She snorted. “Even if Lieutenant Provenza doesn’t agree.”

“You were the officer in charge of the Poster Boy case?”

She nodded. Her eyes glazed with a sadness for just a moment. “I was. And I wish we had handled it differently.”

He’d caught a few segments on the news and remembered how the case ended. “Because he was killed?”

“That, and because we gave him everything he wanted when we went public.”

Of course. A pathological attention-seeker would have loved seeing himself on the news, however he had gotten there. “That wasn’t your decision.”

She sighed. “My boss means well, even when he’s wrong.”

Now, that sounded familiar. He nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Almost finished. Until tomorrow, that is.”

She returned her attention to her screen, and he gazed at the chess board. There were still a few combinations he wanted to show Rusty.

His nose twitched with the wonderful scents coming from the kitchen. Fresh vegetables. Tomato sauce. Broiled sausage. “I see his skills aren’t limited to the chemistry lab.”

Sharon laughed. “Yes, Rusty’s a wonderful cook, which works because I’m not really, and I’m rarely home at a decent hour anyway.” She snorted in self-deprecation. “My poor children. Of all of them, Rusty has adjusted to living with me the best.” She closed her computer with a satisfied sigh. “You know, even with the two of you here, I still got more done than I would have at my office.”

“A revolving door at work, is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Constant.” But then her expression smoothed into that of a proud parent. “My officers are good. Even if they do require a lot of supervision.”

He’d only been there the one time. Quite a while ago. And it had been clear, even then, the officers respected - and feared - their boss. “I’m sure you’re more than up to the task. And you must be pleased you’re finished for the evening.”

She stood and stretched. “Excuse me. Didn’t know how stiff I was…”

He waved her off.

“I suppose it’s silly to sit back down, but there is something about this sofa.” She crossed the room and sat next to him. “I fell for it the second I saw it.”

“It is a fine sofa.”

Soft yet firm. It was perfect - and not unlike its owner.

“We haven’t worked out a schedule,” he said.

She nodded. “That’s right. We haven’t. Or any other terms.”

He furrowed his brow. “Terms?”

“Usually when a teacher devotes his entire afternoon and into the evening tutoring a student, he charges the parents.”

Oh. Yes, that made sense. “That won’t be necessary. What I mean is, I consider Rusty’s improving skills for my chess team payment enough. Although I’m not unopposed to his providing me dinner while I’m here.”

She grinned. “I’m sure those are terms we can all agree to.”

“As for the schedule, I can be here each day after school, if that’s acceptable.”

“It is.”

She stared at some far away point as she obviously considered what this would mean for her days.

“Perhaps the detail could stay extra, if that’s easier for you.”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, that would be perfect. I’ll confirm it with them.”

“Then it is settled.”

She smiled and leaned further back against the sofa. A new scent wafted - just a hint of vanilla. It reminded him of that old superstition during his first year at university: a concoction that had supposedly conjured up the smells of the user’s strongest desires. He hadn’t believed it at the time and considered it an insult against his beloved science. But when he’d been compelled to take a whiff of the fumes, he’d been overwhelmed by vanilla. Soon after, he’d taken up Albus’s cause and had forgotten all about that joke until now.

“Where’d you go just now?” she asked.

Of course she would sense something amiss. “Home.”

“England?”

“Scotland, actually.”

She hmmed. “Do you miss it?”

He shook his head. “No. There were reasons I left. I have no plans to return.”

She nodded.

“But. There are...memories worth having. Few though they may be.”

“And that’s where you were. What was it?”

How much could he say without giving himself away? It was bad enough the woman had an uncanny ability to read him.

“Dinner’s ready,” Rusty called from the kitchen.

Sharon laughed and patted Severus’s arm. “Hold that thought.”

He stood and held out his arm for her to grab. “After you, madam.”

“You, Severus Prince, are a gentleman and a scholar.” She looped her arm around his and led them into the kitchen.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on. She smiled at the laughter coming from the other room. It was such a welcome sound these days.

She joined them in the living room and sat in the arm chair. They gazed intently at the chessboard wearing nearly identical expressions. Her knowledge of the game could fill a thimble, but she enjoyed watching them anyway. Rusty had more pieces on the board, but she knew just enough to understand that didn’t necessarily mean he was winning. Severus’s furrowed brow was a better indication of Rusty’s skill.

Some time later, Rusty moved a piece in front of Severus’s king. “Check.”

Severus moved his king. Rusty slid another piece across the board. Severus nodded slowly. “I concede.”

“Why?” she asked.

“He can’t move his king without putting it in check, and he has to make a move every turn,” Rusty said. “So I win.”

She smiled. “Very good.”

Rusty held out his hand. “Good game, Mr. Prince.”

Severus shook the offered hand. “Congratulations, lad.”

Rusty grinned. “And on that note, I think I’ll call it a night.”

He cleaned up the chess set and went into his room.

“You didn’t take it easy on him, did you?” Sharon asked, when she and Severus were alone.

He shook his head. “Never. He caught onto my strategy and outplayed me.” He snorted. “I’ll have to use a different one tomorrow.”

“How many do you have? Strategies, I mean.”

“Many. I’ve been playing since I was a boy, and I add new moves to my repertoire constantly. And I adapt to each opponent’s style.”

“But then--”

“--I needed Rusty to see how that combination worked. Tomorrow I’ll show him how to avoid that...situation.”

She nodded. She understood the logic behind his words, if not the game.

“I should get home.”

“Oh, yes. You must be tired. It’s been such a long day.”

“For you, also.”

He stood, and she followed suit. Walked him to the door. She leaned to kiss his cheek, but just before her lips reached their target, he turned his head. Her lips met the side of his mouth, and his nose rubbed against hers. She laughed. As first kisses went, it wasn’t the best, but it was endearing nonetheless.

His pale face burned red. “Good evening, madam.”

He moved to burst through the door, but she lay her hand on his arm. “Severus.”

He huffed. “I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.”

She shook her head. “I don’t see how.” She met his eyes. “Did I overstep?”

She watched him calculate his answer. What he considered his dignity was on the line. “No,” he said. “It was my fault, and it won’t happen again.”

“Not even if I want it to?”

His eyes sought hers, looking for the slightest hint of irony she assumed. His eyes softened. “Perhaps. But not tonight.”

She stroked his face. “Until tomorrow, then.”

He nodded and walked through the door. He moved with purpose but not anger, as he strode toward the elevator. She stepped back inside her apartment and closed the door behind her.

Through their misstep she learned two things: Severus was much more sensitive than she, and he cared at least enough about her to feel embarrassment.

She sighed as she lay on her bed. Tomorrow would be interesting indeed.

Previous Next

Fic: The Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Four

newnumbertwo — Wed, 08 Apr 2015 12:33:51 GMT

Title: The Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Four
Rating: T
Word Count: 1435
Fandom(s): Major Crimes, Harry Potter
Characters: Sharon, Snape, Rusty, others
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: The three continue bonding in various ways...
A/N: Much thanks to my lovely betas lanalucy and laura_mayfair. *huggles*
A/N2: First Chapter

Rusty covered his mouth as he yawned. Of course that happened to be the moment Mr. Prince chose to walk by. “At least you covered your mouth,” he said.

Rusty nodded. “Sorry. Tired.”

“Clearly. Not up all night studying, I hope.”

Rusty shook his head. “No, sir.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Prince’s face. Only that couldn’t be possible because Mr. Prince never smiled. “A night of fun? Enjoying your summer?”

Rusty snorted. “I wish.”

“I’m in suspense, so do tell me what has kept you awake.”

Rusty shrugged. “Sharon’s husband came home late last night. Scared us both to death.” He paused. “Thought it was someone trying to kill me.” He probably shouldn’t have said that last bit, but Mr. Prince brought things out of him - kind of like Sharon.

Prince raised a brow. “You’re not one for melodrama, usually, Russell. Is there a reason you and Captain Raydor would think that?”

“The joys of being a witness.” He rushed on. “But it was just Jack, and he’s harmless.”

Prince nodded. “Then I’m glad all is well.” He glanced at Rusty’s mixture. “Stir counterclockwise ten times,” he said before moving on.

That wasn’t written in the lab book’s instructions, but it didn’t surprise him. Mr. Prince had always gone deeper than the book. He probably could have written his own. The man simply oozed chemistry. Rusty followed the directions and smiled as the mixture turned the exact color as the picture. In fact, his was brighter, purer.

He met Mr. Prince’s eyes. The man nodded at him from his desk. It was the closest thing to express approval he was likely to get.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She was married?! To a “harmless” man named Jack who returned home at odd hours and scared Russell and Sharon? He marked another piece of slop with an “F” and the question “Are you kidding me?” He hadn’t missed the important part of the boy’s message: he was in danger. Threatened because of the case the Captain had mentioned. He would be discussing that with her. And maybe find out more about this husband.

Why was he surprised, anyway? A woman like that… of course she was married.

The summertime dunderheads were worse than the ones during the regular school year. Russell and his lab partner Kris were the best in the class. Although the girl spent way more time looking at Russell than at her book and beaker. Russell, for his part, didn’t even seem to notice, or if he did, he certainly wasn’t acknowledging it. Hmm, interesting.

He glowered as he glanced around the room. The students worked double-time once they caught his gaze. Satisfied they were on task, he continued marking.

When everyone left for the day, he called Captain Raydor.

“Hello?” she asked. If he wasn’t mistaken, she sounded tired too.

“Is Rusty really in danger?”

A sigh. “There’s been a threatening letter, yes. But he lives with me and hangs out in a police station when he’s not in school. I assure you he’s well protected.”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?”

Another sigh. “Yes, just after I double check that my gun is loaded and readily accessible. We’re taking this very seriously. But I also want Rusty to not feel like a prisoner.” A pause. “It’s bad enough I had to take his driving privileges away.”

“So, he’s grounded until the trial?”

She laughed but there was no mirth in it. “That’s almost exactly what he said as he handed me his car key.”

“Are you...is everything okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. I just wish we could get this trial over with. Or make the deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes, if we take death off the table and allow him to plead guilty to lesser charges, we could bypass this whole situation.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“That, I’m afraid, isn’t my call. That’s up to the DDA in charge of the case. And since she’s fresh out of law school and determined to prove herself…”

“Oh, I see.”

Not even Captain Raydor could protect the boy from everything. And not from that dunderhead attorney, it seemed.

“Anyway. Did you need anything else?” There was a forced bubbliness to her tone he hadn’t heard before.

“I heard you had a late night visitor.”

“Does Rusty tell you everything?” He could see her eye roll on the other end. “My husband is in town.”

“In town?”

“He visits on occasion. Usually when he’s broke or needs something.”

Oh. He said nothing. Simply waited for her.

“He’ll leave when I don’t help him. I just hope Rusty doesn’t get attached before then.”

“He’s…”

“A disappointment, yes.”

“I’m sorry, Sharon.”

It was the first time he’d said her name. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

“I should get back to work.” A beat. “Thanks for calling. And please don’t worry too much about Rusty. He’s resilient.”

“I’m beginning to see that.”

She ended the call. He placed the phone in the cradle and shook his head.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the caller ID. This is new. She accepted the call and sank onto her couch, her gloriously undisturbed couch. “Hello,” she said.

“Is the freeloader gone?”

She smiled. While she didn’t always condone his insults, especially those of children, sometimes it was nice to call a spade a spade. “He is, finally. I’m actually sitting on my sofa. The pillows are arranged just how I like them. I can’t tell you how good that feels.”

“Then why don’t you sound happier?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m relieved he’s gone, believe me, but…”

“You were getting used to him being there.”

“I guess. That, and I’m not entirely happy with how we behaved today.”

“Tell me.”

She explained how what she’d thought was a nice gesture in helping her unemployed husband find work had backfired, which led to a battle of wills in front of the suspect - and Rios. Not to mention her division and Rusty.

“But you kicked his arse. Made him realize you’re not one to be trifled with. Good on you.”

“If you say so.” She hugged a pillow with her free arm. “I’ll be glad to get back to normal.”

“And how’s Rusty taking it?”

“He doesn’t know yet. He’ll be home shortly, and we’ll both deal with our evenings.”

“What’s wrong with his evening?”

“He’s going to have to find a way to let a perfectly nice girl know he’s not interested. And, well, he’s been struggling with it.”

“I’m sure Kris can understand if he’s gay.”

So, he did know what was going on in his classroom - and with students who weren’t Rusty. Good to know. She sighed. “I don’t think Rusty’s there yet. And because he hasn’t told me, I’m not assuming anything.”

“But you are using your eyes.”

“Yes, I am.” The front door handle squeaked as the key turned in the lock. “He’s coming in now. I’ll, uh, talk to you later.”

“Good night, Sharon.” He ended the call.

Rusty burst into the living room. “Jack’s gone,” he said. No question.

She nodded. “He is.”

“Who was that on the phone? I mean, never mind, it’s not my business.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. For once, it wasn’t a member of the team. It was Mr. Prince.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay? You’re not surprised?”

He shook his head, and sat next to her on the couch. “I don’t know. I think he, like, likes you, or something.” He shrugged. “He’s hard to figure out, though.”

She snorted. “Tell me about it.” She ruffled his hair. “So how was your evening?”

He groaned. “Is it okay if I don’t wanna talk about it?” He looked at his feet. “Maybe tomorrow. I just, I need to process it, okay?”

She patted his back. “Okay. Sure. I completely understand. You know how I need to process information sometimes?” He looked up and nodded. “I totally respect you having that same need. I just want to know one thing--” He looked ready to bolt. “--are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And her family is nice, really they are.” He stood. “Well, good night, Sharon.”

“Good night, honey.”

He headed toward his room, but turned to say, “Sorry about Jack.”

She nodded. “Me too. On so many levels.”

She settled back on the couch and hugged the pillow. If what Rusty had said about Mr. Prince was true, she wouldn’t mind having further access to that voice. Not at all.

Previous Next

Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Three

newnumbertwo — Wed, 01 Apr 2015 13:00:11 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Three
Word Count: ~1300
Rating: T
Characters: Rusty, Sharon, Severus Snape
Summary: Sharon and Severus continue to bond...over Rusty.
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta and everything else.
A/N2: First chapter.
Sharon checked the clock in her dashboard. 3:20. Mr. Prince should still be there. She turned off the car and rushed inside.

After correcting a wrong turn at some point, she arrived at the chem lab and knocked on the door.

“Come in, come in,” Prince called in his ever-agitated tone.

She entered the classroom. “Mr. Prince?”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Captain?” He asked without looking up from his work.

“I just wanted to thank you. The salve worked well.” She laughed. Why was she nervous? “I guess you could see that for yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, just...thank you.”

She headed for the door. Why had she bothered? Anyway, she wasn’t sure Provenza and Flynn could run the Murder Room without it catching on fire, or something. She turned the handle.

“How’d it go?” Prince asked.

She let go of the handle and faced him.

“With the boy’s father, I mean.”

She nodded. “Very well. He’ll never see Rusty again, and he’ll have a hard time explaining why to his fiancee.” She smirked. “Of course, my anonymous call to CPS regarding her daughters may have something to do with that too.”

He laughed. It was even deeper and more powerful than his speaking voice - even through the rasp. Its energy vibrated through her. “Remind me never to mess with you, madam.”

She met his eyes. “People can and do mess with me somewhat regularly. It’s with my children I draw the line.”

He nodded but said nothing.

“Well, I’ll let you go. I’m sure you have places to be.” She smiled. “Good day, Mr. Prince. Thanks again.” She reached for the door again.

“Rusty’s lucky to have you,” he said.

He’d said it quietly and without the slightest hint of irony or snark.

“You too.” She rushed out. She needed to make sure the Murder Room was still in one piece.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty burst into her office and shoved a paper on her desk. “Look, Sharon!”

She picked it up and held it closer so she could read it. It was a chemistry essay (Mr. Prince assigned more essays than the English teacher) marked with an “A.” Prince had also written “Adequate” across the top, but that didn’t matter. Rusty had earned his first A in a class nearly everyone was failing. She beamed at him. “I hope you’re as proud of this as I am of you.”

He shrugged. “It feels okay, I guess.”

“And I know Mr. Prince is proud of you too.” She glanced back at the paper. “Can I read this?”

“If you have time. I mean, don’t you have a murder to solve or something?”

She smirked. “I could use a break.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m gonna grab a soda. Want something?”

She shook her head and thanked him anyway, returning her focus to his work. Most of it was way above what little she remembered from high school chemistry. She hadn’t needed to take anything beyond a general lab science in college, so she hadn’t. The writing was clear and informative - and demonstrated what he’d learned.

Prince may have written “Adequate” across the top, but in the marginal comments, it was obvious the teacher had been excited - and even entertained - by Rusty’s work. He’d written things like “Yes!” when Rusty made a particularly good point, or he’d recommended other resources for further study. When she concluded, she glanced back at the top and laughed. The man certainly had a dry sense of humor.

She picked up the phone and dialed the school’s number. The secretary transferred her to Mr. Prince’s extension.

“Yes,” he said.

He was as biting over the phone as in person.

“Mr. Prince, it’s Captain Raydor. How are you?”

“Just about to leave.”

“I won’t hold you long. I was wondering, are you planning on teaching this summer?”

He snorted. “Can’t really afford not to in this city.”

She laughed. “Tell me about it. Selfishly, though, I’m glad. Rusty still has a lot of catching up to do - he’s determined to graduate on time - and he’d benefit best from you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but then he said, “Yes, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you. I’ll let you go now. Good day.”

“Same to you, Captain.” She was about to hang up when he asked, “Did you see his essay?”

She grinned. “The ‘adequate’ one?”

He chuckled. “The work was not too shabby.”

“I noticed.”

“Did Rusty mention I’ve taken over as chess team advisor?”

“No. I’m so glad. Chess means so much to him.”

He grunted. “Yeah, well my predecessor wouldn’t know Alekhine’s Gun from the Anti-Sicilian.”

She opted not to share that she didn’t know that either. “Then I’m even more thrilled you’ll be there to teach him.”

Silence. Then, “Good day.” Click.

She gazed at the phone before returning it to the cradle. What was with him? The hot and cold. The push and pull. She shook her head, hung up the phone, and returned her focus to the open file. Rusty was right: She had a murder to solve.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The phone’s ringing pulled her out of her reverie. She answered it.

“What’s going on? Rusty was upset.”

Mr. Prince. He so seldom said ‘hello’ like a normal person. She resisted the urge to tell him it was none of his business. She was always on the defensive with him. She sighed. “I won’t presume to know everything in his head, but probably the same thing that’s bothering me.”

“Tell me.”

That came out in more of a purr than a bite. He really could be pleasant to talk to sometimes.

“There are details I can’t share. Some because it’s part of an ongoing case. And some because it’s Rusty’s story to tell.”

“I understand.”

She took a deep breath and released it. “He is a material witness in a murder trial. His actions at the time and his character will be under great scrutiny. It’s not what he wants nor what I want, but it is necessary to put away a rapist and a murderer for the rest of his life. Yesterday, we were reminded of exactly what this trial will cost him. And the child the DA’s office assigned to the case will only make things worse.”

“That’s why he lives with you?”

“That, and the fact he ran away from his previous foster homes.”

He went silent, but by then, she’d learned it meant he was processing. “What can I do?”

She smiled sadly. “Keep doing what you’re doing. He needs to play chess and excel in his classes. And he needs support. He gets every bit of that we can spare around here.” Flashes of Provenza arguing with Rios came to mind. “But he could use it at school too.”

“You have my word.” Click.

She shook her head. Whenever they touched on anything real or emotional, he broke off. Then one or the other would initiate contact - about Rusty, of course - and it would happen again.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He hung up. He knew she thought him rude, but so be it. He didn’t trust himself around her. She and the boy made him...feel. And until he learned how to control it, he would have to limit contact, especially with her.

Her warm voice and those kind yet penetrating eyes that couldn’t decide whether they were green or grey. They drew him in and invited him to stay. He was afraid he wouldn’t always be able to say ‘no.’

He shook his head. How had he gotten so weak? So gutless?

And Russell. The lad was a pawn, just like he’d been. At least the boy had that tigress - and the other officers - to love him. Severus had always only had himself, but he’d done well enough. He’d survived, escaped. And so would Russell, if Severus Prince had anything to say about it.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

The Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Two

newnumbertwo — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 20:40:44 GMT

Title: The Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter Two
Rating: T
Word Count: ~2000
Fandom(s): Harry Potter; Major Crimes
Character(s): Severus Snape, Sharon Raydor, Rusty Beck
Chapter Summary: First impressions aren't always accurate...
A/N: Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta, brainstorming, support, and title.
Previous Chapter

She straightened her skirt, retouched her makeup, and spritzed a splash of fragrance mist.

“You don’t have to go, Sharon.” He snorted. “It’s high school. Nobody goes to conferences anymore.”

“Both of my children tried that, Rusty.” She smiled. “Didn’t work for them either.”

He rolled his eyes. “Suit yourself.”

Satisfied with her appearance, she exited the condo after shooting Rusty one last long look with the instruction to do his homework before watching tv.

When she arrived at the campus, she pulled the schedule Rusty had written for her out of her bag, and she entered the building.

She wasn’t particularly impressed with his first few teachers. They knew their material but lacked the means to inspire a room of sixteen-year-olds. Hell, they could barely keep her awake. Then she walked into the chemistry lab.

Mr. Prince wore black pants and a black turtleneck. Rusty had mentioned he wore black every day. “Like a priest but not,” he’d said. The dark clothes juxtaposed with his pale face and hands, the only places skin was visible. His hair was long and matched his clothes, as did his eyes. Said eyes were locked on her in something of a sneer in conjunction with his hooked nose and thin lips. “Well, don’t just stand there gawking, woman! Come in. Let’s get this bloody over with.”

She ticked through her options. Darth Raydor wouldn’t do Rusty any good. She doubted that approach would work with this man anyway. She settled for snark. “Yes sir,” she said. At least she refrained from saluting him.

She took a seat in front of his work station, which was a tall desk with beakers, test tubes, and papers scattered around. A quick glance revealed he’d been grading. How long did it take? It seemed he would save time with an “F” stamp. Instead, he’d taken the time to mark each one, along with what she suspected were scathing comments.

“So whose parent are you?”

His eyes bored into hers as though he were trying to figure that out.

She reached out her hand for him to shake. He took it in his. It wasn’t as cold as she would have thought. Long, elegant fingers. He shook it firmly and released. “I’m Captain Sharon Raydor,” she said with slight emphasis on ‘Captain.’ “I’m Rusty Beck’s foster mother.”

He nodded. “Yes, Russell.”

“He prefers Rusty.”

“I don’t.”

What?! “Excuse me, but it’s not your name.”

He snorted. “Fine.” He leafed through his papers. “What did you want to talk about? You have my undivided attention.” He pulled out his gradebook in a manner that belied his words. “Yes, the boy is passing.”

“Passing? I see all F’s here.” She gestured to the scattered papers.

“Those aren’t his. He’s yet to earn an A, but he’s a consistent B student.”

That was probably the equivalent of an A+ with any other teacher. She nodded. “Does he give you any trouble?”

“He pays attention, does his work, and leaves, which is fine by me.”

Why was this man working with children? “If I may ask, how long have you been teaching?”

He searched her eyes, for what she wasn’t sure. “This is my first year.”

She raised a brow. “What did you do before that?” At his put off expression, she added, “I have the right to know the qualifications of everyone teaching my son.”

“Foster son.”

She glared at him. “Since his mother has abandoned him not once but twice, that gives me the rights if not the title.”

He conceded if only a bit. “I worked in a lab. There was an accident. I switched careers and am more than qualified to teach Rusty.”

She forced a smile. Her mother had always said ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.' It was a lesson she’d conveniently forgotten occasionally - when vinegar was more satisfying - but generally she’d followed. “That’s good enough for me.” She stood. “I won’t take up any more of your time. I can see he’s in good hands here.” She met his eyes. “You’re his favorite teacher, by the way.”

His reaction to that was unclear. He probably wasn’t used to being liked, but, deep down, everyone wanted to be. She understood that better than anyone. “Have a good evening, Captain Raydor.”

“You as well, Mr. Prince.”

She felt his eyes on her with every step she took exiting his classroom.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

As he expected, no other parent showed up for a conference, so he packed up and left. Captain Raydor wasn’t what he’d expected for Russell’s guardian - she was older, shrewd, and obviously didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And unlike most of the known universe, she hadn’t been the least bit intimidated by him.

She and the boy had that in common.

/////////////////////////////////////////////

Russell was much more sullen than usual. Agitated. His work suffered, and he burned his beaker for the first time all year.

Severus tsked. “I’ll see you after class, Mr. Beck.”

Russell groaned. “Yes, sir. Fine, sir. Whatever.”

Severus returned to his desk, opting to ignore the boy’s cheek.

After class, Russell approached his desk. The boy was angry, but whatever the cause, it had nothing to do with chemistry. “Mr. Beck, what excuse have you for such...shoddy work?”

He shrugged. “None, I guess. I’m just….I have a lot on my mind.”

Severus raised a brow. “Do tell.”

“My dad found out about me. I found out about him too. And he wants to meet me or whatever.”

Severus nodded. His own familial experiences had been far from ideal, but even so, this didn’t sound so terrible. “And is that what you want?”

“I didn’t at first, but then Sharon said I might be able to learn from him. About myself. About my mom, if he even remembers her. She bought me a suit too.” He shrugged. “It’s just dinner, and Sharon will be there. I just…I don’t know what to expect.”

Captain Raydor had been wise. Leaving the decision with the boy. Even if she had manipulated him into choosing what she thought was best. The suit had been a good move. “I see. And when is this meeting taking place?”

“Tonight.” He shook his head. “I’m, um, sorry about that beaker. I can, uh, wash it out.”

“Yes, that would be good. Then you can go.”

Russell retrieved the beaker and brought it to the back sink. The corrosion wasn’t coming out, no matter how hard he scrubbed. Severus chuckled, then gave the boy a tip to improve his technique.

When the beaker returned to its natural transparency, Russell returned it to the cabinet and packed his books. Severus held out a pass for him. “Here, Rusty.” Severus smirked. “There’s no reason to make your day even worse.”

Russell snorted as he grabbed the pass. “Right? What is it with this school anyway? Thanks, Mr. Prince. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Indeed, Mr. Beck.”

As Russell exited, Severus grinned until the next group of dunderheads arrived. He picked up the chalk and wrote the formula for their lab. He was through wasting his breath to speak to them beyond what was necessary.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Captain, you have a visitor,” Buzz said, when she exited the morgue.

“A visitor, really? And just who is that?” If it were Daniel Dunn she would be ready. Of course, she couldn’t guarantee his safety once he left…

“A Mr. Prince. Says he’s Rusty’s teacher.”

She nodded. “Of course. He’s in my office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right there.”

She entered the Murder Room and strode into her office, meeting Provenza’s raised eyebrows with a shrug as she went.

She opened her door. Mr. Prince was sitting straight as a rod, dressed in all black, as always. “Mr. Prince, what can I do for you? Rusty hasn’t been any trouble, I trust.” She sat at her desk.

“He’s no trouble, madam.” His black eyes searched her face. “I want to know what happened to him.”

“His face, you mean.” He nodded, a slight sneer as though it had been obvious. “I’m afraid what you saw today was an improvement. Unfortunately, it’s an ongoing investigation, so I can’t tell you anything.”

“It was his bloody father, wasn’t it?!”

“You knew about Mr. Dunn?”

Mr. Prince waved his hand. “The boy told me last week they were going to dinner. At your pressing, I might add.” She nodded. “Then he seemed fine. Happy. And then he missed class. And then he turns up with a bloody shiner. One plus one, madam, always equals two.”

“You’re right.”

He snorted. “Obviously. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Don’t you worry about Mr. Dunn.” She glanced outside her office. “You see all those officers out there? They are all very familiar with him, with what he’s done. And Rusty and I have a plan in place.”

“Is that enough?”

“If I have my way, Rusty will never have to see that man again. And Mr. Dunn will have great difficulty in his own life. I’ll take comfort in that, yes.”

He nodded. “I see the boy is in good hands. I should be going.”

She reached out her hand. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll let Rusty know you were concerned.” She sighed. “Sometimes he doesn’t realize there are people who care for him.”

He shook her hand. “What about you? Are you…”

“I’m a trained markswoman. I’ll be fine.”

“I believe you will.”

He stood and walked out, his posture maintained with every step out of the murder room.

“Who’s the stiff?” Provenza asked, as he entered her office.

“That was Rusty’s favorite teacher, Mr. Prince.” She sighed. “He was concerned.”

“Aren’t we all. I still can’t believe you aren’t pressing charges.”

“Rusty doesn’t want to. And under the circumstances, I think this may work out better for him. I have to think about that first," she said. “Now what do you have for me?”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rusty followed the instructions on the board and in his textbook. One burned beaker was more than enough. Mr. Prince was making the rounds, stealthily appearing in front of Rusty’s classmates just when they were screwing up the worst. It wasn’t nice, and Rusty was glad he seemed to be on Prince’s good side, but at the same time he liked that at least one teacher didn’t hesitate to call it like it was.

When Prince approached Rusty’s station, Rusty ticked off the steps, double and triple checking where he could have gone wrong. It went much easier when students could identify their failings. However, he could find none.

Instead of berating him, Prince placed a vial on his table.

“What’s that?” Rusty asked.

“A salve,” Mr. Prince said. He gestured toward Rusty’s eye.

“Salve? Like Vaseline?”

Prince scoffed. “Much better than that. But yes, it works on the same principle. I first created it when I was your age in school.”

Rusty nodded. “Thanks, sir.”

Prince made a sound Rusty couldn’t identify and moved on to the next ‘dunderhead.’ Rusty picked up the vial and removed the cork. It smelled nice, soothing. He didn’t think his face looked that bad, but he would be happy to try it.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Severus yawned. He’d stayed up later than usual preparing Russell’s salve. After his conversation with Captain Raydor, he couldn’t resist the urge to help the boy in some way.

Perhaps it had been his memories of the Marauders at school. Just when he’d thought he had escaped his abusive father, he’d found bullies at school. The Marauders had possessed the luxury of popularity and great wealth, of which Severus had neither. Most of his classmates, and even his teachers, had sided with them, leaving Severus to lick his wounds alone or in the infirmary. But he’d been smarter than them and had outlived them to boot. His salve alone could make him a fortune, if he wasn’t trying to keep a low profile.

He packed his bag and exited the classroom. It would be an early bedtime.

Next Chapter

Fic: The Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter One

newnumbertwo — Thu, 19 Mar 2015 11:02:47 GMT

Title: Alchemy of Forgetting: Chapter One
Fandom(s): Major Crimes, Harry Potter
Rating: T
Word Count: 1613
Characters: Sharon Raydor, Severus Snape, Rusty Beck
Chapter Summary: Rusty's snarky chemistry teacher is more than he seems...
A/N: Dedicated to the wonderful laura_mayfair in honor of her birthday. She's largely responsible for this project's genesis. Happy Birthday! *huggles*
A/N2: Much thanks to laura_mayfair and lanalucy for beta'ing, cheerleading, and brainstorming.

Buzz entered the Murder Room with Rusty trailing behind. Sharon hopped up from the desk she’d commandeered and approached her electronics guru. “Thank you, Buzz.”

He sighed and handed Sharon her coffee, then distributed the rest of the coffee order. Sharon took a sip, mmmed, and turned to Rusty. “How was school?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t get suspended today.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Sorry, Sharon.” He wasn’t. “It was...fine. Most of my teachers are really lame - are you sure that’s a good school?”

She nodded. “One of the best in the city.”

“Well, there must be some really crappy schools then.”

“You have no idea,” Sanchez said from his desk.

Rusty nodded. “Anyway, there’s one who’s not so bad.”

‘Not so bad’ was likely Rusty-speak for ‘cool,’ so, that was encouraging. She smiled, summoning all the warmth and patience she could muster. “Come into my office and tell me all about it.”

She turned on her heels and caught Lieutenant Provenza’s raised eyebrows. She shrugged and walked through the Murder Room and into her office. She didn’t stop until she reached her desk. She sat down, and Rusty sat across from her. “So, tell me about the one you like.”

“I didn’t say I liked him.”

She raised her brow.

He stopped in his tracks. “He’s my chemistry teacher. Severus Prince, or something. I think he’s from England.”

“Oh, really? That’s interesting.”

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “He’s a hard-ass already, but he’s, well...you know where you stand with him. He doesn’t pretend to like you, and he doesn’t expect you to like him. It’s...I don’t know, real.”

She nodded. The boy could use someone who would be real with him. “You said he’s tough.”

“That’s an understatement. One of the kids - a senior - left the classroom in tears.”

“Why?”

Rusty shrugged. “Mr. Prince called him a ‘dunderhead,’ or something. Told him not to come back until he could follow instructions without destroying a ‘bloody beaker’.”

“Well, I bet the young man will never make that mistake again.”

Rusty snorted. “I followed the directions okay, by the way. It was kinda fun. Like cooking.”

He liked cooking? That was good to know; she would keep that in mind. “Well, I’m glad your second day went so much better than your first one.” She gave him a hard look, so he would remember their deal. “It sounds like Mr. Prince probably assigned some homework. Why don’t you get started in the breakroom? And if you finish you can play chess on my computer.”

He nodded.

Chess was his life-blood. It had probably been the only stable thing in his life, and she noticed it helped calm him. It was also the sole source of positive reinforcement she had, at least for the time being, so she would milk it for all it was worth.

He grabbed his bag and headed into the breakroom. She refocused on her casefile. She shook her head. Severus Prince’s methods sounded a bit unorthodox, but they were effective, at least with Rusty. That set Mr. Prince ahead in her book.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Severus shook his head when the last dunderhead left after the final bell. He packed his bag, loaded the burned beakers into the back sink - whoever served detention with him first would be cleaning those out - hit the lights, and exited the room. He strode to the teachers’ lot behind the school and got in his green Civic. He’d parked in the shade, so his tan leather interior wasn’t too hot.

Next time he decided to relocate, he would choose fuckin’ Alaska or some other cold place. He’d chosen the City of Angels because it was the farthest place from Scotland he could think of - and the absolutely last place anyone would think to look for him. Not that anyone would.

He drove to his studio apartment near the school and went inside. He threw his bag on his couch and lifted the hem of his black turtleneck as he moved to his dresser. He tossed his shirt in the laundry bag and pulled out his vintage Sabbath shirt. He’d bought it when he and Lucius had attended a concert during the Never Say Die tour. He put on the t-shirt and went into the bathroom. The scar on his neck was still red, angry. Fuckin’ Nagini and her psychopathic owner. Tom Riddle had become even more paranoid in the end; of course, he hadn't been wrong. Severus had been working to sabotage the would-be warlord, and he’d succeeded too. He had even managed to outsmart Albus. He chortled despite his raw throat’s protest - talking to those idiots all day was murder.

After Riddle had Albus murdered, there had been no living soul to vouch for Severus, and he’d had no choice but to play the role Albus had forced him into. But he’d known it was only a matter of time before Riddle decided to kill his prized and most trusted chemist. The way Riddle had kept that blasted snake so close to him at all times, Severus had suspected Nagini would be Riddle’s weapon against him. And there was a certain poetic justice: the world’s foremost chemist poisoned.

It had been the blood loss that had nearly killed him, though. The toxins Severus had offset with the antidote he’d created and kept on his person at all times. When Riddle had called him into that meeting, he’d had the antidote in his breast pocket. After Nagini had bitten him and Riddle had left him to die in that shack, Severus had pulled the vial out of his pocket with shaking fingers already affected by the poison spreading through his body. He’d brought the vial to his lips and swallowed. Then he’d passed out, comforted by the fact he was still breathing.

By the time he’d come to, the blood had congealed enough to clot, another effect of the antidote, and it saved his life. Still, he’d felt faint. Weak. And so heavy. Like there wasn’t enough blood to sustain his muscles and organs. He’d needed blood, and fast.

He’d dragged himself out of the shack, crawling, as that was easier. Outside the shack, the world had been exploding around him. Countless gun shots. The cavalry had arrived. If he’d had the energy to snicker, he would have. Riddle hadn’t been long for this world. But neither would Severus have been if he hadn’t kept moving. After everything, he’d loathed the thought of being shot like a dog. With no one aware that it had been he who had made this victory possible.

He’d made it to his lab. It hadn’t been destroyed yet, but it had only been a matter of time. He’d reached into his fridge, grabbed the bag, and set up the apparatus. He’d lain on the examination table as the IV had done its work.

With each drip of the IV, he’d grown stronger, more determined.

A single gunshot. Then silence.

He hadn’t had time to empty the bag. They would arrive to torch the lab in moments.

He’d detached himself from the IV and gone to the pig’s cage and unlocked it. The pig had snorted as it had walked, its movements awkward. He’d picked up the pig and carried him to the desk. Then he’d doused the pig in what remained of the bag of blood - once burned, it should be enough to fool everyone, and if not, he’d be long gone. He’d thrown on a mask and had tossed every beaker and test tube to the floor. Glass had shattered. There had been several spontaneous chemical reactions, some of which he’d never seen, but he’d lacked the time to take them in. He’d pulled out his matches and stepped over to the portrait of Riddle on the back wall. He’d entered the secret passageway behind it and had struck the match, throwing it as far into the lab as possible. Then he’d run. The deafening explosion had confirmed his success. Still, he’d mourned his lost work. Not all of it had been for that raging psycho.

He’d run without stopping until he’d arrived in LA.

He’d made use of his espionage skills to create a false birth certificate and credentials. The Prince name had died out, having given way to Snape, a name he’d always despised as much as he had his father. Reclaiming his birthright had been an easy decision. He’d read of his death in the London Times. It had been greatly exaggerated, as Twain wrote, but he’d succeeded in fooling everyone.

He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. No matter how much he healed, his throat was still raw, and talking to those fuckin’ idiots all day didn’t help. The kettle whistled, and he poured his tea, slipping a bit of whiskey in the mug. He sipped it, letting it soothe his aches.

He grabbed his bag off the sofa and reached inside for his gradebooks. He happily wrote F’s next to each name, taking intermittent sips. Then he got to Russell Beck. The lad had missed his class the first day - evidently he’d put three boys in the infirmary - but today he’d attended and he’d shown some aptitude. At the very least, he could follow simple instructions. Next to Russell’s name, (the boy insisted he went by Rusty, but Severus wasn’t one to comply with such wishes) he wrote a B. A gift for sure, but he was feeling generous. Or perhaps that was the whiskey spreading through him.

Next Chapter

Fic: Timing is Everything

newnumbertwo — Mon, 09 Feb 2015 13:21:46 GMT

Title: Timing is Everything
Rating: T
Pairing/Characters: Karl, Kara, Kara/Karl
Word Count: ~2900
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Karl could use a little help with something, but it'll cost him...
A/N: Written for the lovely lanalucy for her birthday. *hugs* Much thanks to laura_mayfair for the initial prompt, brainstorming, and beta. *hugs*

A cup of coffee appeared in front of her. She forced her head up to see Karl. Good boy. She picked up the coffee - black and strong. Perfect. She savored her first sip. “What’s this for?”

He shrugged. “Just coffee.” He snorted. “Looked like you needed it.”

She found the energy to flip him off.

He chuckled. “You’re even more pleasant in the morning.”

“And you’re all sunshine and roses.”

He sat in front of her with his breakfast. He said something about how he would have gotten her some, but he figured she should start with coffee first. “What ya do last night? Must have been a hell of a bender.”

“Something like that.” The coffee was helping. Plus, Helo’s frakking sunny personality made it impossible for her to stay grumpy for long. “What do you need?”

“Who says I need anything?”

“You’ve never brought me coffee before.”

They’d frakked last week. She usually didn’t do that with anyone she actually liked, but he’d caught her in a weak moment. She’d been waiting for the fallout, but it hadn’t come. Yet.

“That’s what friends do.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Anyway, I was thinking you could go shopping with me during our weekend leave.”

“I’m not big on shopping.”

She’d never had money for that growing up, and then, she’d joined the fleet, which provided everything for her. Saved a lot of time.

“Me neither, but maybe we could help each other.”

Now they were getting to it. Sometimes with Helo, she had to drag it out of him. “And what help do you need?”

“My sister’s birthday’s coming up. I don’t know what to get her.”

“And you think I can help?”

He nodded. “I was hoping so. I mean, what would gift would you want?”

A paint set with different sized brushes. Canvas. New shooting targets. She shook her head. “Nothing that would help,” she said. “But I’ll go with you.” She smirked. “I’ll need more than coffee for that.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He pushed her against the door. Great start. He kneeled in front of her and got to work. “So good.” She held his head grabbing what little hair was available. “Gods, I’m glad I taught you that.”

The tongue strokes stopped.

“Keep going, Helo.”

He complied. He did that maneuver she’d taught him, which sent her over the edge and into her rack with him.

“Gods, you’re a good lay,” she said later.

He grinned. “You’re not so bad, either.” He clapped her back. “I should go. Let you sleep.”

If she were inclined, she would have hugged him. Way to avoid awkward pillow talk.

“Yeah. Good.”

“We’re on for tomorrow?”

“Whatever. But you owe me lunch for this.”

He climbed out of the rack, grabbed his clothes and threw them on. He shot her a grin. “I think I’ll buy you a dress too.”

He left before she could respond. Frakker!

She lay back against the pillows. Gods, the things that man could do with his body. Probably illegal in some colonies, but she’d never tell.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

They rode in Karl’s clown car. “Next time, we’re taking my truck,” she said.

“Sorry, it’s cramped.”

“For a future bus driver,” she said. “You’d think you’d be driving a boat-car.”

“Yeah, well, this was my sister’s car. It’s not much, but it’s mine, and it’s paid for.”

Meanwhile she signed her checks with blood each month to make the truck payments. Thank the gods that was her only real expense. Her Academy stipend barely covered it, but she’d fallen in love with that bad boy. Almost as much as she loved her viper. And how awesome was it that she got paid to fly those things! She would do it for free - even if that would mean living without her truck.

“What’s your plan of attack?” she asked.

“My plan? Oh, for today.” He shrugged. “Don’t know. We could start at the larger stores and browse until something grabs one of us.”

“Not much of a plan, big guy.” She smirked. “Sounds like you need some out-of-the-box thinking.”

He grinned. “Always. Why do you think I asked?”

‘You mean besides the fact I’m your only female friend?”

He shook his head. “You’re a woman? Hadn’t realized that.”

She stuck out her tongue.

They both laughed.

Helo actually did very well with the ladies. Or he would if he didn’t spend so much time with her: playing pyramid, watching her win triad, working out, guilting her into studying. Frakking.

He pulled into the parking lot. “Ready?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

They forced their way out of the car. His sister had probably thought a Mini would be adorable, but not so much.

They headed inside. “So what’s your sister into?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“What does she like? You know, any hobbies? What kind of stuff does she wear?”

“Oh, um, you know, she’s a typical older sister.”

She rolled her eyes. “Never had one. Don’t know what that means.”

He didn’t say anything as they walked across the lot. He was obviously sifting through his thoughts.

“My mom caught her smoking at my cousin’s wedding. She was furious.”

Oh, a rebel? Didn’t see that coming. “I can work with that. Cigars?”

He shook his head. “Cigarettes.”

She pffed.

“I don’t know. Maybe she could use another makeup case or something.”

“What kind does she use?”

He shrugged.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “That’s probably something she should get for herself. It’s, I don’t know, personal.”

“Yeah, right.” He opened the door for her. “Back at square one, I guess.”

They stepped inside. “Let’s just look around. Maybe Spencers will have something.”

They stopped at each kiosk along the way. Most of it was junk. But the donut-croissant thing was something she’d always needed in her life, without even knowing it. Karl liked them too.

Spencers would be the perfect place if they were shopping for Kara, but they weren’t so…

Moving on, they stopped at a “Timepiece” kiosk. “Does she like clocks?” Kara asked.

He snorted. “She’s always late.”

Kara was about to ask what they were even doing standing there when she saw it. “Oh my Gods! It’s perfect.”

“What?”

She pointed at a square clock, with all the numbers off to the right side. The minute and second hands worked, but that wasn’t the point. On the left it read, “Whatever, I’m late anyway.”

Karl saw it and laughed. “She’ll love it.” He clapped her shoulder. “I knew you’d come through for me.”

She smirked. “Then buy the thing so we can have lunch.”

“I just bought you that Cronut.”

“Doesn’t count. That’s a snack. The deal was lunch.”

“And a dress.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She had to say she looked good. Really frakking good. If she didn’t know better she would say Karl was her GBF. Only he was way too cocky. Grinning at her through the mirror. “I did good, huh?” he asked. He knew. Just wanted her to say it.

She smirked. “Careful, I might make you shop with me more often.”

“Not such a bad thing, if….”

“If what?”

His shoes became the most interesting thing in the room. “If we could be like this.”

Then it was quiet. Thick silence. She hated that feeling. That’s why Karl was so great: He kept the heaviness away.

She punched his shoulder. He rubbed it. “Ouch.”

They laughed.

“So you’ll come with me?” he asked.

She nodded. “Can’t miss the look on her face. Plus, I hear your mom makes the best cake.”

“That she does. I think she’s making Liz’s favorite. Yellow cake with chocolate frosting.”

Nom.

She picked up her civies that she’d tossed on the floor. “Scoot.”

He shrugged as though to say ‘not like I haven’t seen everything,’ but he left the dressing room anyway.

She was gentle as she removed the dress, a blue number - Karl hadn’t paid for it yet, so ripping it would suck. Then she hung it up and threw on her jeans and t-shirt. Maybe she cleaned up good, but she definitely preferred the feel of well-worn jeans and cotton.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“You’re quiet,” he said.

She turned away from the passenger window to glance at him. “Yeah, so?”

“Just sayin’. Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

She huffed. “I’m fine. I’m not...I don’t always like to talk, that’s all.”

He stopped at a red light and faced her. “Okay,” he said. “I’m starting to get that.” He smiled, and completely disarmed her. “If there was something, you could tell me, you know that right?”

She nodded. “There isn’t.”

The light turned green and they were off again.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She pulled at the hem of her dress once more. Karl rang the doorbell. He met her eyes. “You look great.” The ‘relax’ was unspoken. She’d trained him well enough to know not to imply Starbuck was anything but chill.

She didn’t have time to reply before the door swung open and an iron-haired woman smiled like she was just seeing the sun for the first time in days. “Karl! My baby! What are they feeding you? You’ve grown even more!” Then she hugged him, as he greeted her.

“And who’s this?” Mrs. Agathon attempted to whisper, “Is this her?”

Her?

He grinned. “Mom, this is Kara Thrace. Kara, my mom.”

Kara reached out her hand. Mrs. Agathon laughed and pulled Kara into a deep hug instead. “No handshakes around here, Kara. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m so glad you came tonight.”

Mrs. Agathon released Kara. “She’s beautiful, Karl. Just like you described.” She beamed with pride. At what, Kara wasn’t sure. “Come in. Come in. Everyone’s dying to see you.”

She entered the house. Kara started to follow when Karl reached for her hand and squeezed it. He stroked her knuckles and released her. She took a deep breath and stepped inside with him right behind her.

Then it was a pandemonium of hugs, cheek kisses, happy tears, and introductions. Kara could barely keep up with what Liz, Jackie, and Mrs. Agathon were saying. Then a man stepped forward - Karl with salt and pepper hair. “You’re gonna scare her away,” he said. He smiled. “And what a shame that would be for Karl.”

“Hi, Mr. Agathon,” Kara said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise, Kara.” He reached out his hand, and she shook it. “It’s great to meet you finally.” He turned to his wife. “I bet our guest is hungry.”

“Of course! Everyone, let’s eat! There’s so much food,” Mrs. Agathon said.

“She’s been cooking all day,” Mr. Agathon said to Kara.

“It all smells great,” Kara said.

It did too. She couldn’t keep track of all the scents wafting from the kitchen, but they blended nicely.

They congregated into the dining room. Kara hung back as the family sat down. She glanced at Karl to see where he’d sit. Instead he pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit in it. He squeezed her shoulder after she was settled. Then he occupied the chair next to her. She was at the end of the table, with Mr. Agathon to her right. Liz sat across from her.

“So what’s it like flying vipers?” Mr. Agathon asked.

Kara grinned. “A constant rush. It’s...I think my first run-through was the first time I really knew I was alive.”

He nodded.

“There’s nothing else like it,” she said. “Although flying Raptors is almost as good.”

Liz and Mr. Agathon laughed and Karl groaned. She laughed. “Just kidding. The truth is, I couldn’t do what Karl does. All those screens and sensors,” she said. “He’ll make an excellent bus driver one day.”

“And what about you? Where do you see yourself?” Mr. Agathon asked.

“Assuming I can stay out of hack --” Karl chuckled. She elbowed him in the side. “--I’d like to be assigned to a battlestar one day, but teaching nuggets could be fun too,” she said. “I still have another year at the academy.” She shrugged. “Just as long as they give me a bird, I’m happy.”

Before Mr. Agathon could respond, Mrs. Agathon reappeared from the kitchen. She placed a giant casserole dish in the center of the table. “Hope everyone’s hungry.”

“Can I help, Mom?” Karl asked.

“I’m almost done. Just gotta get the salad bowl.” She smiled. “Stay with Kara.”

Mrs. Agathon returned to the kitchen. Then she was back with a giant stainless steel bowl. She placed it next to the casserole dish. Then she took her place at the other head of the table. Liz passed the salad around, and Jackie started with the casserole. It looked like a lasagna or something.

When Mr. Agathon passed the salad to Kara, she dished it onto her main plate.

She could feel Karl’s eyes on her. “What?”

“Nothing.”

He dished the lasagna on his plate, and they switched. She scooped a slice onto her plate. With her fork, she moved the salad on top. “Seriously, what?” she asked Karl.

He simply pointed at his mother. Mrs. Agathon’s dish looked exactly like hers. Everyone else had used a salad dish. Kara shrugged. “It all goes the same place.”

Mr. Agathon chuckled. “That’s exactly what Lynn always says. Of course, she’s given up selling the idea to the rest of us.”

Kara picked up her fork to dig in. Just before the prongs hit the china, Mrs. Agathon said, “Who would like to lead us in prayer?” She glanced at her husband. “John, would you do the honors?”

Mr. Agathon led them through the standard prayer of thanks for their food and everything in their lives. When they concluded with “So say we all,” Kara knew it was okay to eat.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Mrs. Agathon brought in the cake and placed it in front of Liz’s place. Mr. Agathon adjusted the dining room lights with the dimmer. Karl ribbed Liz about how many candles were on the cake. She stuck out her tongue at him, and he chuckled before muttering about how some things never changed.

They all sang “Happy Birthday.” They would never make it in the Colonial Choir, but they had spirit. Liz blew out the candles. Then Mrs. Agathon took the cake, so she could cut it. Karl’s praise of his mother’s baking hadn’t been exaggerated: It looked and smelled amazing.

“Thanks for making my favorite,” Liz said, after she got the honorary first slice.

When Kara took her first bite she knew it was her new favorite cake too.

The cake quickly disappeared, and Mrs. Agathon cleared the table again. Kara elbowed Karl. “We should get the thing.”

“Oh, yeah.” He pushed his chair back from the table, so he could stand.

She followed suit.

“Where are you two going?” Liz asked.

“Nothing,” Kara said, overlapping Karl’s “Nowhere.”

Liz rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.”

Mr. Agathon chuckled. “Just don’t go too far.”

They made it to the truck. “You’re okay, right?” Karl asked.

“Yeah. Sure,” she said. “Nice family.” She met his eyes. “Your mom knows a lot about me.”

“Yeah.” He stood like he wasn’t sure if he was in trouble. Then he shrugged. “I like to tell her about what matters to me.”

“Oh, well. Yeah.” How was she supposed to respond to that? “Your sisters will come looking for us soon.”

He grabbed the present from under the center armrest and shut the door.

When they stepped inside, everyone had gathered into the living room. Liz was in the middle of the sofa with a cluster of presents on the floor in front of her. Karl placed his gift among the others.

Her parents had given her gift cards to her favorite stores, clothes, and a silver charm bracelet. Jackie had given her a charm to add to said bracelet. Then Liz opened Karl’s gift.

“Oh my Gods! This is the best.” She displayed the clock for everyone. “See, dad?”

Mr. Agathon groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Liz giggled. “My dad had the hardest time getting me up for school,” she said to Kara. “Bet he doesn’t miss that since I moved out.”

Then they exchanged stories: Apparently there was a home video of Karl sitting on a bucket and then falling into it. There were some great bike-related incidents too.

He didn’t blush much, like he’d heard these stories a lot and didn’t mind her hearing them.

Then he cleared his throat. “I hate to leave, but we have drill first thing in the morning.”

There were goodbye hugs and kisses, thank yous, and nice-to-meet-yous. When they climbed into the truck and pulled out of the driveway, Karl’s family stood on the porch to wave goodbye. She waved back then shifted the gear into drive.

“You’re quiet again,” he said.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “My stories...they’re not like yours.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute. “I know,” he said quietly. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No. I just...no.”

“Okay.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”

“It was fun.” She smirked. “But you know you owe me, right?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Fic: Burying the Past

newnumbertwo — Tue, 13 Jan 2015 15:28:52 GMT

Title: Burying the Past
Word Count: ~4900
Rating: T
Fandom: Major Crimes
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Characters/Paring: Sharon/Andy
Summary: Andy needs a little help dealing with a painful anniversary...
A/N: Written for ozzyj for the gift exchange at majorcrimes. Thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta work, brainstorming, and title. *hugs*

Being a cop and a recovering alcoholic are a lot alike in some ways. One of the first things he’d learned on the force was to try to forget the ugliness, to not bring it home with him. Failing that, he’d turned to drink. Later, he’d learned recovering drunks have a prayer that reminds them to accept what can’t be changed and to have courage to change what can.

It was a good prayer for cops too. But there were still cases that got to him, the ones he couldn’t forget, and couldn’t accept. Alice was one of them - he refused to forget her at least until they learned her real name and where she’d come from. Gracie was another one.

In his life there were victims and dirtbags, and sometimes the victims were also dirtbags, but that didn’t matter. It was his job to investigate their deaths and help put the dirtbags responsible away. Gracie was different. Usually, Flynn didn’t encounter a victim until after he or she had died. By some twist of fate, though, he’d witnessed the final moments of Gracie’s life. And those were the moments he relived occasionally.

“Andy, is everything okay?” Sharon asked.

He looked up. “Yeah, Captain. Never better.”

She nodded and returned to her place in front of the murder board. They had been playing “count the coincidences,” and they had enough to bring in the latest scumbag for questioning.

Provenza was predicting the play-by-play. Sharon had ideas of her own. Either Provenza or Sharon would prove correct. They would make their arrest, followed by a deal, and then they would all wake up the next day and do it again.

//////////////////////////////////////////

“I’m sorry, am I boring you, Captain?” Provenza asked.

She snapped to attention. “Oh, no. I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I’m...my head is elsewhere.” She gave a small embarrassed smile, the one perfect for disarming her lieutenants and detectives. “Please continue.”

“I’ve lost my train of thought.”

He grumbled as he sat down. At first, he was annoyed with her for not paying attention, then annoyed with himself for backing down so quickly. Of everyone in the department, she could read him the best, which probably annoyed him all the more.

“It’ll come back to you, I’m sure.” She grinned. “Something about it always being the husband, perhaps.”

“Can’t argue with experience.”

“No, you can’t.” She glanced through the glass. “Andy doesn’t seem himself today. Do you think anything’s wrong?”

Provenza shrugged. “I’ve got nothing.”

She nodded. “I thought maybe he’d said something.”

“As if I can make sense of anything he says.”

She laughed. “Always thought you were an unlikely partnership.”

“That’s a common trend around here,” he said. “If you want to know what’s going through that man’s head, you should probably just ask him.” He put up his hands, as though to say ‘just sayin,’ and retreated from her office.

///////////////////////////////////////////////

“Hey, Andy. I guess it’s that day again,” his sponsor, Jack, said into the phone.

“Yeah. How’d ya know?” Andy asked.

“Anymore, you only call on the anniversary of your divorce, your kids’ birthdays, and today.”

“She would have graduated from college this year.”

Jack groaned his sympathy. “What can I do? Are you okay?”

“I’m all right. I keep seein’ it over and over again. I’m set to meet my therapist later.”

“Lieutenant Andrew Flynn in therapy?! When did this happen?”

“When my ex drove me crazy with Nicole’s wedding stuff.”
Jack chuckled. “That would do it.” They exchanged more small talk before ending the call.

It was time to get back to the current case. Gracie’s last words - about her dad - kept running through his mind. He shook his head and stepped into Sharon’s office.

“Andy? What’s going on?” Sharon asked.

He sat in front of her desk.

“Can I take a half day? I...I’m not giving my all today.”

She nodded. “You do seem a bit off.” She gave that non-judgemental smile of hers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not sure you remember. It was this case a few years ago. A young woman on one of those motor-scooter things--”

“Gracie.”

He nodded. “Yeah. How’d you--”

She raised a brow. “With the Commissioner’s wife as the ‘person of interest,’ don’t you think Chief Pope would have wanted me involved?”

Good old Pope. Always great at covering his ass - at the expense of everyone else’s. “I don’t remember you being there.”

“Oh, I wasn’t. At the time, I didn’t think Chief Johnson would have responded well to my presence.” He nodded. “Chief Pope was in charge of monitoring the case. I was behind the scenes, trying to keep us from being sued. On all fronts.” She sighed. “For what it’s worth, I’m really glad the team got Mrs. Meyers. She’d been getting away with it for so long, but no more.”

“I ‘got away with it’ for awhile too.”

“Is that what this is about? You don’t feel responsible for Gracie’s death, do you?”

He shook his head. “Not for hers, no. But…” He threw up his hands. “It could have so easily been me. Drinking. Driving. Thinking I was somehow above it all. I may not have been the Commissioner’s spouse, but I had buddies who could get me off.”

She shook her head. “Do you really think I would have let you get away with it? If you recall, Lieutenant Flynn, I was quite….persistent during my IA days.”

“I’m glad that’s not something we...you had to deal with. I was enough of a peach sober.”

She neither confirmed nor denied that he’d been the bane of her existence just a few years ago. He shuddered to think of the things he’d said. She never held it against him, though.

“You took the initiative to quit drinking. You did it. That’s why you’re not like Gail Meyers or Sharon Beck.” She nodded emphatically. “And the answer is yes. Take the time you need.”

“You know I hate leaving like this.”

She smiled sadly. “Michael will still be dead tomorrow.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Have a seat, Andy.” Dr. Fitzgerald said, gesturing to the adjacent chair. At least it wasn’t a couch.

He sat. “Thanks for seeing me. I know it’s short notice.”

“Can’t say no to a patient in need. Tell me what’s troubling you today.”

Andy took a breath. “An old case.” Dr. Fitzgerald nodded. “A young woman was riding a motor-scooter thing. And we were stopped at a red light together. She looked over at me, and I smiled.

“Then the light changed. We started going when someone barreled into her lane and ran her off her scooter and kept going.”

“I see,” Dr. Fitzgerald said. “Continue.”

“Yeah, so I turned on my siren and maneuvered my car into Gracie’s - the girl’s lane. I called it in, remembering as much as I could about the car, but my focus was on her.
“She talked to me the whole time. Said how angry her dad would be if he found out she’d ridden on the highway. He was angry all right, but not with Gracie. Never with her.”

“You solved the case?”

“My team and me did, yeah. Some commissioner’s wife. Ended up in one of those country clubs that pass for rehab. Ruined her husband’s career - not that I cared much for the guy. Made her own daughter feel guilty for everything.”

“And she killed a young woman,” Dr. Fitzgerald said.

Andy nodded.

“What is it that bothers you the most?”

Andy shrugged. “I don’t know, doc. I mean, it’s always tough with kids. You wanna protect them from these dirtbags, and when you can’t...it sucks. But with Gracie. It was right in front of me. If we had been in different lanes--”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Dr. Fitzgerald nodded. “What about the driver? You mentioned rehab. I’m assuming she was drunk.”

“Yeah. Loaded,” Andy said. “And I know what you’re gonna say. Part of me can imagine a similar scenario with me behind the wheel.” He shook his head. “God knows I took that risk enough times.”

“But you stopped before the problem could escalate that far.”

“That’s what my commanding officer said today.”

“She seems to think highly of you.”

Andy shrugged. “I don’t know about that. She’s just...she’s a really good boss, you know. I didn’t know what to expect at first--”

“Because she had worked with internal affairs?”

“She didn’t just work with them. She was them. Wrote more laws and bylaws than any other officer since the inception of the LAPD.”

Dr. Fitzgerald nodded. “And you’ve had run ins with her before?”

“I’m a hothead and a recovering alcoholic. I’m a prime candidate for excessive force investigations.” He shook his head. “But I’ve always been cleared. But, you see, none of that matters with Sharon. She just...she wants us all to be the best officers we can be. And today I wasn’t it, so I called you.”

“I’m not sure I’m what you need.”

“What do you mean?” Andy raised a brow. He was already paying for the hour - he’d better get every cent worth.

“Tell me about you and Sharon. Were you able to fix the misunderstanding with your family?”

Andy gazed at his shoes. “Not exactly.”

“Meaning?”

“I avoid talking about me and Sharon with Nicole, but she still brings us up anyway.” Andy held his head in his hands.

“And?”

“And I haven’t told Sharon. We go to dinner and other places - as friends.”

“Is that what you want?”

Andy looked up. “I want to still be friends with Sharon when she finds out.”

“Why do you think Nicole is so receptive to Sharon?”

“Why wouldn’t she be? My daughter’s smart and a great judge of character. And Sharon is...great.”

“And how does this misunderstanding make you feel? Really?”

“When I’m not worried it’s all gonna blow up in my face somehow, it feels pretty great. Sharon’s a wonderful friend. And Nicole treats me like she did when she was a kid, when she thought I was her hero and not her stepdad.”

Dr. Fitzgerald nodded. “In other words, you’re good with the status quo. But what will you do when it ‘blows up’?”

“Try to get in both of their good graces again.” He shrugged. “It’s a flawed plan, but what else can I do?”

“And you understand--”

“They both have good reason to be pissed at me, yeah, I got that,” Andy said. “But what does any of this have to do with Gracie?”

“Have you been thinking about her these last several moments?”

Andy shook his head. “No. I guess not.”

“You’ve talked to me. You’ve talked to your sponsor, correct?” Andy nodded. “You talked to Sharon. You know why you identify with the victim, her family, and the driver. You don’t need healing, Andy. You need a day for grieving and remembrance.”

“So, you’re saying I should….”

“Surround yourself with family, friends. Someone who understands the job would be best.”

“Someone like Capt--Sharon.”

Dr. Fitzgerald nodded. “As you say. And our time is up.”

“Thanks, doc.” Andy stood and shook his hand.

“Good luck,” Dr. Fitzgerald said as Andy left the office.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What are you doing here? You’re off this afternoon. That means you go someplace else,” Provenza said.

“Really? I wasn’t aware of what being ‘off’ meant.” Andy rolled his eyes. Provenza snorted. “Is Sharon...the Captain around?”

Provenza went to the printer and retrieved what looked like a rap sheet.

“New suspect?” Andy asked.

“A jealous husband kills his wife’s lover, and the sun rises and sets.” Provenza shook his head. “The Captain is in her office. Just…”

“What?”

“It’s not the best time.”

Andy searched Provenza’s face. The old curmudgeon would never admit it, but he always had Sharon’s back. But what was he protecting her from?

“Oh, why?”

Provenza glanced around. Sykes and Sanchez were out of the murder room, and Mike was working diligently with Buzz on some tech thing. “Her lawyer called.”

“Lawyer? Oh, right, yeah. Not good news, I guess.”

“Jack Raydor has found a way to outdo himself, it seems. Going by her very foul language.”

Meaning she’d uttered the dreaded “damn.” Coming from someone with Sharon Raydor’s composure, a “damn” meant more than a “fuck” from anyone else. Andy nodded. “Maybe I should…” He gestured toward her office.

Provenza shrugged and returned his focus to the rap sheet in his hands. His partner clearly had more to say, but was being uncharacteristically quiet.

Andy knocked on Sharon’s door and stepped inside. “Hey, Captain.”

She’d shed whatever tears she was going to, but the evidence remained. Still, she met his eyes and forced a smile. “Andy? I didn’t expect...how did...how are you?”

He took his customary seat. “I’m good.” He shrugged. “And crazy since I rushed back here.”

She giggled.

“What about you? Is the, um, case going…”

She nodded. “We caught a break. Lieutenant Provenza is looking through records. Mike’s working on getting into the phone we found at the scene. And Amy and Julio are following up,” she said. “We’re good.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

She leaned forward. “As your immediate supervisor, I should ask why you’re here when you requested a half day.”

He shrugged. “Where am I gonna go?”

“A game? Or matinee?”

“Not as fun without you there.”

Was that too much? He hoped not.

“Even though I talk during the trailers?”

He chuckled. “Are you kidding? That’s the best part, hearing what you think about everything that’s coming out.”

Her mouth quirked into a shy smile that remained, even as she asked, “Seriously, though, is there something I can do?”

He nodded. “My therapist basically said I didn’t need ‘healing’ because I’d already done that work. Instead, I just need to be around people who get it and have a place to grieve Gracie - and Alice while we’re at it.” He shrugged. “So I’m here.”

“Okay, yes. I think I understand the doctor’s logic. Reminds me of something my therapist said years ago--”

“--You were in therapy?!”

She laughed. “You and Rusty were both so surprised to hear that. Why is that?”

He shook his head. “I guess because you always seem to, you know, have it all together.”

“You have no idea how much work this,” she said, pointing at herself, “takes. And how many years it’s taken me to get it right. I’m still not there, yet, but I’m getting better.” She sighed. “I often wonder if I had gotten enough sleep the night before, maybe I wouldn’t have pulled that trigger. My reflexes, my training, none of that mattered in the moment.”

He didn’t know she still thought about that, those early days on the force. “Is that why you transferred to IA? I was never sure.”

She shook her head. “No, I transferred to IA because it was supposed to prepare me better for a law career, since I was supposed to go to law school after Jack was set up in a firm.” She snorted. “Then, when Jack left, I was glad for the transfer because it paid better--” He snorted. “--and it was safer for me considering I was the sole parent and provider.” She hmmed. “But you’re right. Knowing I wouldn’t be drawing my gun anymore was appealing as well.”

“You transferred just when I was getting used to having you around.”

She nodded. “At the time, I hadn’t planned on being in the department long. I didn’t care who I angered or whose toes I stepped on--”

“--You didn’t--”

“--I did. I’m not sorry about it. Not really. It was what was necessary in a very male dominated world.” She smiled. Proud. “And now I can focus on other things. Like putting Michael’s killer away for life.”

“Maybe I can help with that.”

She nodded.

“Later, would you, um, like to see a movie or something?”

“If the theater is still open by then, yes. Yes, I would. What’s playing?”

“Lots of crap. You know it’s the ‘burner’ time for all the stuff that’s not for the Academy’s consideration.”

She laughed. “I had no idea you knew so much about the ‘business’.”

He shrugged. “Hey, I live in Hollywood, right? Besides, we didn’t have much money growing up, but my grams always gave us enough to go to the movies every week.” He chuckled. “I think she figured we’d get in less trouble there.”

“Probably. So, what’s the best of the crap?”

“The latest Liam Neeson?”

She hmmed. “I have a hard time suspending my disbelief, but...okay.”

He grinned. “I imagine he would be an IA nightmare.”
“Oh my God, yes. He’d bankrupt the department.”

“We can see something else.”

She put up her hand. “No. It’s fun. Escapism. It’s perfect,” she said. “Now, if you’re reporting back to work, why don’t you see if Lieutenant Provenza could use any help.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Captain. Sharon.”

“Anytime, Andy.” She smiled and watched him leave her office.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

Sharon pulled out her phone and called Rusty. “Hey, Andy and I are going to the movies after work, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Have fun, you two. Whatcha seeing?”

“The latest Liam Neeson one, I think.”

“Cool.”

“It is. I’ll talk to you later. Please try to eat something that isn’t a hamburger.”

He groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’ll order a pizza.”

She smiled. “Perfect. Bye, Rusty.”

She ended the call and left her office. Andy was at his desk looking at her like...she didn’t know what. She approached him. “Ready?”

“Yeah. If we hurry, we can eat dinner too.”

She snorted. “Hurry in LA, that’s unlikely.”

He chuckled. “I took LA traffic and speed into account.”

He guided her to his car, which he’d cleaned since the last time she’d been in it. A great improvement. Mmm. “It smells good in here,” she said.

“It’s amazing what a vacuum and carpet shampoo can do.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, Sharon. For, you know.”

She smiled. “You thank me a lot, you know that?”

“Don’t wanna forget. My grams taught me never to forget someone who’s helped me, and to always say ‘thank you.’ And you’ve helped me a lot. And I have a lot of time to make up for.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled out of the parking lot. “We were close - I know you don’t think you were close to anyone, but we were. Then you left for IA and I forgot you - and worse,” he said. “Grams would have kicked my ass if she’d been alive.”

She nodded. They’d never spoken much about then. Mainly because - at least in her view - there wasn’t much to discuss. They were both married, both rookies in training. He’d had a few months on her and a chip on his shoulder that made him both highly effective and unpredictable. She had simply been going through the motions, but there had been moments when she’d enjoyed the job and thought about forgoing law altogether. They’d been paired up, and as unlikely a partnership as they’d been, they’d worked well together. Then she’d transferred out of Robbery Homicide and out of Sergeant Andrew Flynn’s life - at least until his first FID investigation. He’d looked so hurt, like she’d betrayed him. Then his face had turned - a permanent sneer. She’d damped down her feelings. Like everyone else, Detective Flynn had viewed her as ‘the enemy,’ and she’d forced herself to ignore that it had hurt worse coming from him. After a while, she’d forgotten they’d ever been civil - or more - to each other.

She didn’t know what to say to him now. Years after the fact. And if they’d been friendly during their rookie days, they were true friends now. Perhaps those twenty-five intervening years didn’t matter, not anymore. “I don’t think about it much. Maybe you shouldn’t either,” she said.

“Oh, but I do, Sharon. Making amends, you know. I may have been sober at the time, but that just makes my behavior worse. At least if I’d been drunk, I could use that as an excuse - even if it is a piss poor one.”

“I never held it against you. And I still don’t.”

“Maybe I wish you did. Maybe I’ve always wanted you to push back, to show some emotion.”

“I hope that’s not why you sat in front of my desk so many times, Andy.”

“It was a nice desk. Not as nice as the one now, but…”

“Andy.”

He chuckled. “That’s what I needed then, that voice with just the right sharpness.”

“Hmm. At the time I thought the best thing was to clear you for duty and send you on your way as quickly as possible,” she said. “I don’t recall you ever protesting my expediency.”

He switched lanes, using the turn signal to her satisfaction. “I guess I want to know, did it hurt? Did the loss of our friendship hurt?”

She nodded. “Yes. Yes, it did. At first.”

“Then what?”

“Like you, I forgot.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Me too,” she said. “Now where are you taking me? I don’t need to be worried about you paying me back, do I?”

He chuckled. “Nah. By my calculation, you’re the one I should be worried about.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////

He took her to his favorite Italian restaurant.

“Are we gonna get a table at this hour?” Sharon asked.

He pulled into the back of the lot and parked. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

She hmmed.

He got out of the car and walked around to her side to open her door. She laid her hand in his, and he helped her up. He led her to the entrance, still holding her hand.
She didn’t say anything, so neither did he.

When the maitre de opened the door for them, he smiled at Andy. “Signor Andy, so good to see you. And who is this lovely signora?”

Andy glanced to see Sharon blush. “This is Sharon.” He left it at that. They were still undefined, and Felix didn’t need to hear their convoluted story.

Felix nodded. Then he grinned at Sharon. “You’re in for a delightful treat, Signora Sharon.”

Sharon returned the grin. “I’m sure. It smells divine in here.”

Felix bowed. “The chefs are, as you say, ‘on’ tonight,” he said. “I’ll take you to your table, my friends.”

Felix took their drink orders after they were seated. Then he left their table.

“Your table?” she asked.

Andy shrugged. “I come here a lot.”

“I can see why. It’s very...homey.”

“Yeah. Reminds me of Grams’s kitchen.” He leaned toward her. “But the food isn’t quite as good as hers.”

“What about you? Can you recreate her recipes?”

He shook his head. “She never wrote anything down. I tried a few things by memory. It just wasn’t the same.”

She nodded. “My grandmother was the same way. Both of them, actually. Not that I was inclined to attempt anything anyway.”

She picked up the menu, which was printed on both sides of a single sheet of paper. “What do you recommend?”

He suggested the house salad with the house dressing - creamy parmesan, which was made entirely out of butter, cheese, and garlic - to start. Followed by the Chicken Marsala.

“If I order a drink, is that…”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

She shrugged. “Jack never liked me to drink when he couldn’t.”

He snorted. “Don’t get me started on that guy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. We’d be here all night.”

The implication - however slight - that he was like Jack irritated him. But he couldn’t blame her. Her experiences and his ex’s, they weren’t unalike. Not completely. “My problem is my own,” he said. “And I don’t expect the world to abstain because I have to.” She nodded, obviously considering his words carefully. “Of course, this is years after regular meetings and contact with my sponsor,” he added. “I wasn’t this...enlightened when I first quit.”

“I hope you know how much I admire you. What you’ve done.”

He waved it off. “Just doing what I had to, you know.”

“But you’ve done it. That’s what matters,” she said. “I haven’t really thanked you for helping so much with Rusty and his mother.”

He nodded. “Is it wrong if I look at Sharon Beck or Jack and think ‘maybe I’m not that bad’?”

She laughed, but there was little mirth in it. “I’ve been doing that for years. Whenever I used to think I was completely failing as a mother, I would see truly terrible parents, and I’d feel a bit better about myself.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a great parent.”

“I seem to be doing a better job with Rusty,” she said. “Maybe there’s something to be said for parenting at a more...advanced age.” She sighed. “I was so young with Ricky and Emily, younger than Emily is now, and for most of their upbringing, I was absolutely terrified.”

“I have a hard time picturing you afraid. You were always so strong. Tough.”

“Unapproachable.”

“That too,” he said. “I think it was the trench coat.”

“I was surrounded by people who hated me. Couldn’t let them see me sweat.”

“And at home?”

“My kids needed me. Couldn’t let them see me sweat either.”

He nodded.

“Anyway, what do you think the body count will be in this latest installment?”

He shrugged. “It’s only PG-13. Maybe not so many.”

“You know the PG-13 films have more gun violence than the R-rated ones did 20 years ago?” she asked. “I wonder if that contributes to our line of work.”

“People in general do that,” he said. “It’s what happens when there’s a high concentration of scumbags.”

“Spoken like a true cynic.”

“And the former head of FID is the optimist. Imagine that.”

She leaned forward as if to tell a secret. “If I hadn’t been, you probably would have been off the force years ago. As would most of the members of our team.”

“How did you decide when you conducted your investigations? What did you look for?”

“Patterns, mostly. Take you or Julio, for example. You both tend to go a bit far with suspects, but those...urges come from a good place. So I focused most of my energy on the real problems.”

He chuckled. “I have to say, Captain, I’m offended I wasn’t more of a problem, all the times I had to report to your office.”

“Oh, no. I hope you won’t act out now.” Her eyes twinkled as the mirth returned.

Their server, Felix’s younger brother Enzo, appeared. They each ordered the house salad and their entrees. Sharon ordered a Chardonnay to be brought out with her marsala.

Enzo disappeared into the kitchen, yelling at the cooks in Italian. Sharon and Andy laughed.
“Where were we?” he asked.

“We were determining just how big a problem you could be to me.”

“Oh, the biggest.”

“Not possible, I’m afraid.”

Bested by Jack again. But that wasn’t a bad thing in this case. “Can I at least be the most fun?”

She tilted her head. “Yes, I think that’s appropriate.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Well, that was...exciting,” she said as they exited the theater.

“Yeah. That ending…”

“Totally implausible.”

He guided her to his car. “Do you want me to just take you home? I can pick you up tomorrow.”

She nodded. “That would be nice, yes. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Wouldn’t have asked, if I did.”

He opened her door and helped her into her seat. She leaned against the seat rest. When had it gotten so late?

She closed her eyes and barely noticed the car’s movements until they stopped. She glanced through her window; they were in her garage already.

Andy’s eyes were on her. She couldn’t register what his expression meant. “Thanks for humoring me today, Sharon.”

“What are friends for?”

He smiled.

He walked her to her door. “Well, good night,” he said.

His head moved toward hers, and she knew. She had time to turn her head but didn’t. His lips pressed against hers, and then they were gone. She smiled and said good night. Then she stepped inside her apartment.

Rusty was on the sofa. “Hey, Sharon. Did you have a good time?”

She nodded. “Yes, I really did.”

“That’s good,” he said. “Good night.”

“Were you waiting up for me?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I was watching a movie, wanted to see how it ended. And yeah, I guess I wanted to make sure you got in okay.”

“Was the ending worth it?”

“Not really. But now I won’t have to watch it again.”

She laughed and wished him a good night.

Her phone buzzed on her nightstand. She picked it up. A text from Andy: “Had a great time. I’ll bring coffee for the three of us in the morning. Good night, Sharon.”

She grinned and typed out, “Sounds good. See you then.”

She replaced the phone and fell back against her pillows.

Fic: Full Circle

newnumbertwo — Tue, 06 Jan 2015 14:26:21 GMT

Title: Full Circle
Fandom: Major Crimes
Characters: Sharon, Rusty, Sharon Beck
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Word Count: 2700
Summary: Rusty is sure it'll be easy to have two mothers once everything's official, but first he has to tell his biological mother, and that won't be easy...
A/N: Written for the gift exchange at majorcrimes for nevada10. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for beta-reading and creating the title. *hugs*

Sharon entered the condo humming a little tune Rusty didn’t recognize. She’d never hummed before. It sounded nice. She went right into the kitchen. A minute later, she sat next to him on the sofa with a glass of red wine. Red wine?! “What’s with the red, Sharon? I’ve only ever seen you drink white.”

“Felt like something different, I guess.” She shrugged. “I filed the papers today.”

“Oh.”

She nodded. “That’s the next step.”

“What’s it feel like? Any different?”

“Not really. Our marriage ended twenty years ago. This will just be a formality.”

“And Ricky and Emily? Will they--”

“They grew up without their father. I don’t see how this will change anything.” He nodded. “Their relationship with Jack has always been between the three of them--”

“Except for when you made him call them.”

She snorted. “I guess I changed the rules when he was under my roof. As I’m apt to do.”

He groaned. “Tell me about it.”

She laughed. “Anyway, the only difference is he’ll probably hit them up for loans instead of me. And I sincerely hope they’ll say ‘no’.”

“Doesn’t he work for some big firm now?”

“He’s worked for big firms before. They don’t usually keep attorneys who gamble and drink during company time.”

Rusty nodded. “Oh, I guess not. Didn’t he--”

“He’s cleaned up before too.” She took a sip. “But that - all of it - isn’t my business any longer. It’s just sad.”

“That it didn’t work out?”

“Well, that too. But before he murdered his brain cells, he was really something. And I can see glimmers of him sometimes, but mostly, he’s just gone.” She sighed. “When we were young I dreamed we’d be a team. A legal power couple taking LA by storm.” She took another sip. “But you know, this is better. It’s real at least.”

He nodded. What else could he say?

She placed her glass on the coaster on the coffee table. “Anyway, you know what this means?”

“You’ll be able to adopt me soon.”

“You still want this, right?” She met his eyes.

He didn’t blink. “Yeah, Sharon, of course. It’s...nice.” He shook his head. “I just - I gotta talk to my mother about it. Tell her, you know.” She nodded. “And with school applications and finding a job and everything. It’s...a lot.”

“I understand completely.” She tilted her head. “Take your time. Process everything. It’s a lot for me too.”

“Not in a bad way, right? I mean, do you still--”

“Rusty, I would have adopted you last year if I could have.” He nodded. “I just understand it’s a delicate balance, and I want - like you do - to get everything just right.”

“You always do, Sharon.” He stifled a yawn and said goodnight.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When the divorce was finalized, Sharon took him out to dinner, but he insisted on paying for dessert. She indulged him, and they each ate the house specialty pastry. Delicious.

“Is this what people do when they get divorced?” Rusty asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Never been divorced before. Maybe I should ask Lieutenant Provenza. Or one of his wives.”

Rusty chuckled. “I can’t imagine going through that so many times.”

She shook her head. “Me neither. Once was more than enough,” she said. “But you know, this is an important milestone. Not because of the dissolution of my marriage, but because of what’s coming next.”

“You gonna start playing the field?”

She laughed. “Oh, God. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Sure you do, Sharon. And see that guy over there?”

She started to turn.

“Don’t look. Use your eyes. You know, you’re a cop. Use your peripherals, I think Amy says.”

“Oh, yes, okay. Which one am I looking for?”

“The one in the dark blue jacket.”

“Okay. What about him?”

“He’s been checking you out since we got here.”

She blushed. “So…”

“Hey, relax, Sharon. I’m just trying to say you have game. Whenever you’re ready, you know.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Rusty. But I’m already with the best looking guy in the restaurant, and I couldn’t be happier.”

He chuckled. “You’re just sayin’ that cause you’re...you’re my mom.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true. Which reminds me, we have papers to sign.”

“Papers? Oh, yeah. That’s great. When do you think…”

“We’re at the mercy of Judge Richwood’s schedule now. Could be anytime.”

“Cool. Uh, why Judge Richwood?”

“He and I go back a long time.” She smiled. “He was the presiding judge over my first major IA case - a corruption ring throughout the department. He had just been appointed, and I had only been in IA for a few months. The situation was eye-opening for both of us.” She hmmed. “We’ve enjoyed professional courtesy ever since.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I didn’t know cops and judges could work together like that.”

“We don’t usually. But things work differently in IA,” she said. “How do you like the strudel?”

“It’s great. I didn’t know food could taste like this.”

She laughed. “You know what this means. We’ll have to go out more often. Broaden your palate. But don’t worry, we’ll make sure you have plenty of hamburgers too.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When they got home, Sharon left the papers - with her signature - on the coffee table for him. She patted his shoulder and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

He was ready, but it wouldn’t be fair to his mother to make a major decision like that without at least telling her, which he hadn’t yet. Hadn’t even seen her in weeks. He was a bad son to her, and if he held up the proceedings for Sharon, he would be a bad son to her too. He would have to bite the bullet, instead of clinging to Badge of Justice.

He had to be on the set - with everyone’s coffee - before sunrise. They would be shooting a day-time crime scene or something. Whatever they did, it didn’t look much like what Sharon and the Major Crimes team did, but whatever.

He changed for bed and lay down. He would have the afternoon off in a few days; he could see his mother then. She wouldn’t understand. She would get angry. Say terrible things about Sharon. But then he would leave, and for once, he would know she would be there when he returned. This time, he has the power: He gets to leave, to decide when and for how long to visit. Their relationship, for the rest of their lives, is in his hands.

But that didn’t mean it would be easy.

He fell asleep hearing her shrill screech about Sharon ruining everything - and not knowing how he would handle it.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A few mornings later, Jeff called. Apologetic about even asking, but… Rusty smiled into the phone. “Sure, man. I’d love the extra hours.”

“Spoken like a future starving student,” Jeff said.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

He ended the call after Jeff thanked him profusely. Sharon came out of her bedroom, ready to leave for work. “What was that?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Jeff asked me to work late today. Something about an emergency.” He rolled his eyes. “I guess for caffeine-addicted actors not having enough coffee could be an emergency.”

She laughed. “The same is true for cops. Weren’t you supposed to have time off today?”

“I’ll get it another time. It’s fine.”

She nodded in that noncommittal way of hers that said she didn’t agree with him but would let him make his own decision. He forced himself to ignore the feelings that nod dredged up. Spending the day with Jeff and his other friends on the set was preferable to spending the afternoon in the county jail. “Anyway, Sharon, have a good day. I’ll try to be home for dinner.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

He nodded. “And before you ask, I haven’t signed the papers yet.” He put up his hands. “I will soon. I swear.”

“Okay,” she said. “We should go to our respective emergencies. Be safe. Be kind.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He held the door for her as she walked out. Then they rode in the elevator to the garage and walked to their separate cars. He let her pull out first: She didn’t criticize his driving anymore, but he preferred not to have her as a passenger or to watch him drive. Maybe it was a mom thing.

His first mother hadn’t been much of a driver herself. And she hadn’t lodged any complaints when he had been eleven and had to drive her to the hospital. Not that she would have been able to, passed out in the backseat.

When there was enough distance, he pulled out.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He couldn’t put it off any longer. Between Sharon’s gentle prodding and his own guilt - it was time.

He padded into the living room. “Good morning.”

He sat on the couch and started pulling on his sneakers.

“Good morning. Heading off to work?”

“If getting people their coffee orders and telling other people to be quiet while the camera is rolling is an actual job, then yes, I’m going to work. I’m part of the Hollywood glamour machine.”

“Do you think Badge of Justice could spare you for a few hours? Judge Richwood said he can finalize the adoption this week.”

“This week?” He couldn’t meet her eyes for too long.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll have to finish all of your paperwork by then.” It was the same tone she used for his school applications - the “Mom” tone. It was new to him.

“Yeah.”

He hesitated too long, and she latched onto it.

“So what’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Yeah, that’s great. I, just, uh, haven’t told my other mom what was happening yet.”

“Oh, I see. I thought you were going to tell her a few months ago.”

She wasn’t thrilled with his answer, but she wasn’t angry. She clearly wanted an explanation and deserved one. “The divorce was still pending, and I wasn’t sure it would go through. Or something else would happen, and I’d get her all upset for nothing, and she’d end up high or drunk.”

“That wouldn’t be your fault.”

She kept telling him that. So did Dr. Joe. But that didn’t make it feel any better. “I know. It doesn’t feel like it.” He stood up and headed to the door, forcing a smile. “I’ll ask my boss if I can have some time later this week to change mothers.”

And he rushed off to work. Sharon would understand, even if his mother wouldn’t, and it would be fine.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jeff covered for him that afternoon, so Rusty drove to the County Jail. He took a deep breath and forced a smile as he sat in front of the bulletproof window separating him from his mother. She sat down a moment later - all smiles and gratitude. Their visits had always started like this, but he knew enough not to believe it would last.

He asked how she was. Probably not the best question to ask under the circumstances, but he wanted to know anyway. She didn’t say so, but she blamed him for being there, and it was hard to remember that wasn’t true.

She spoke of her daily routine, and then said how the routine and structure was good for her. Helping her. She’d said that about rehab too. How long had that lasted? Still, it was a positive sign that she at least recognized she needed help - even if she couldn’t accept responsibility.

He must have been too deep in thought, because her face turned. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

It was time.

It went about as badly as he’d feared. She targeted Sharon, attempted to manipulate him - first by blaming him for being a bad son, then insinuating that he was weak enough to go along with whatever Sharon said. It may have been Sharon’s idea, but that was only because Rusty wouldn’t have thought of it, wouldn’t have known to think about it. The longer he lived with Sharon, though, the more he wanted to stay there.

He’d thought finding his mother was the pinnacle, but the truth, which he’d tried so hard to bury from himself, was when she’d been gone, he’d stopped missing her so much. Then he’d force himself to remember, and the pain of her absence would return anew. Now he knew where she was, that she wouldn’t be going anywhere for at least a year, and that he’d never live with her again.

Sharon would be his legal mother - this week! - and until he moved into his own place, he’d live with her, be part of her family, a real family that provided structure and support. His mother, his other mother, could never give him that. But Sharon said lots of kids have two mothers or two fathers. He already loved Sharon and his mother, so what difference did it make? He could love two moms.

Only his mother wasn’t on board. At all. He choked back the urge to cry and stood. He left his mother with one last comment and walked away.

It hurt, but Sharon would say it was a necessary pain. Like divorcing Jack or something.

He went home ready to sign those papers once and for all.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He was just finishing up the papers when Sharon walked into the living room the next morning. He was struggling through the complicated legalese. Sharon had been right when she’d joked about the papers she’d had to sign for him to be part of the SI operation. He had no idea what he just read.

“I know it’s long and legalistic, but all it means is we’ll be a family.”

She mentioned their latest case, how it showed her to what lengths people will go to have children, and how now she had another son she hadn’t asked for - and how lucky that made her.

Lucky?! He couldn’t see how. He looked up from his papers and focused on her. She certainly believed what she’d said. “Lucky? Sharon, I’ve mostly been nothing but trouble since I got here.”

She met his eyes. “You can’t possibly believe that, Rusty.” Seeing he did, she said, “I’m not going to argue this with you right now. Just know it’s a miracle to have you, and I’m thankful for it every day.”

He looked back at the papers. It didn’t matter what they said. If they meant he and Sharon would be a family, that’s all he cared about. He signed at the bottom of the last page. Burst off the couch with the packet and handed it to her. “Here,” he said. “One day, Sharon, I swear I’ll give you a reason to be proud of me.”

Her gaze was a combination of confusion and love. “Oh my God, Rusty. I’m already so proud of you.”

He couldn’t handle her love on top of his mother - it was an overload of emotions that he needed to process. So he headed to work.

Maybe when it was finally official, it would be easier.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He wore the same suit as he had to the preliminary hearing for the trial. He shook off the memories associated with that. It was time to create a new memory with his “new” family.

Sharon sat next to him, and the rest of the team crowded Judge Richwood’s office. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He clearly liked Sharon and the team and was happy to see everyone under positive circumstances for a change.

Judge Richwood didn’t belabor the point. He asked them each, using their full legal names, if they agreed to the terms of the adoption. He asked them if they had any questions, and when they said they didn’t, he said they were a legal family according to the state of California.

Then it was all hugs, handshakes, and cheek kisses. And there was nowhere he would rather have been.

He just wished his mother had been as lucky as he’d been to have a family like this.

Omerta: Chapter One

newnumbertwo — Thu, 01 Jan 2015 13:17:06 GMT

Title: Omerta: Chapter One
Rating: T
Word Count: ~2200
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Characters/Pairing(s): Bill/Laura, Bill/Laura/Saul (eventually); mostly gen for now.
Summary: Guatrau Laura Roslin and her Consigliere Bill Adama pick up the pieces after a tragedy and then they follow the code of Omerta - all the way to the end...
A/N: This is a "sneak peak" at one of my WIPs posted in honor of plaid_slytherin's birthday. Much thanks to my lovely betas lanalucy and laura_mayfair for supporting this project the last year - and all my other ones. *hugs all around*

She returned to her condo after climbing out of the fountain. She was sopping wet, but it didn’t bother her. Nothing could get through to her. Not with them gone. The phone rang. She picked it up on her way to her bathroom and answered it. It had better be important.

“Laura.”

It was Bill, and he sounded distraught. “Yes?”

“There’s been an accident.”

She sighed. “I know, the police came and left. About an hour ago.”

“I’m at the hospital now.”

Of course. He would do what he did best. And so would she. “Call back in an hour.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” His tone softened. “And Laura...I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I know you will.”

She ended the call and stepped in her shower. The fountain had served its purpose: it cleansed her and washed away her tears. The shower would serve another. It would mark a new beginning for her.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He stepped in front of the door to the ICU, where an officer was stationed. “Is the DUI in there?”

The officer looked torn. “Who wants to know?”

Bill schooled his features to be the picture of professionalism. “I’m Laura Roslin’s attorney. That man killed her family.”

The officer nodded. “From what I hear, he probably won’t last through the night.”

No? She wouldn’t like that.

“Would it be okay if I saw him?” The officer was prepared to say no. Bill put up his hand. “I just want to look him in the eyes. For my client.”

The officer nodded. “Two minutes.”

Bill thanked the young officer. Nice kid. Reminded him of Zak. He stepped into the ICU and nearly gasped when he saw the patient. After so many years with the Roslins, Bill wasn’t often surprised. “Frak me.”

He exited as quickly as his legs could carry him. She would want to hear about this RFN. He waved to the officer and headed toward the elevator.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She answered her phone. “Yes?”

She had just finished putting on the finishing touches on her suit. It was the last thing she wanted to wear that day, but she needed to. And she needed to go home and begin her plans.

“It’s the Families.”

She hmmed into the phone. “And the driver?”

“A low-level thug.” She could hear his sneer. “Frakker probably got drunk for courage.”

“He’ll wish he’d had more when we get started.”

A beat. What hadn’t he told her? “That’s the thing. He’s not long for this world.”

If he were standing in front of her, she would shoot him her glare. She would rely on her voice instead. “I know you’re not punning, right?”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t...never. He’s just in bad shape.”

“Oh. Report in, then.”

On this day, she needed her best friend more than ever before.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

She sat in her father’s old office - her office now. Bill entered slowly, bowing his head. She rose from the chair and offered her hand. He took it in both of his and kissed it. “Guatrau.”

She hmmed. “Not yet.”

“Maybe not officially, but this is yours.” He gestured around the office. “All of it.”

She sat back down, and he sat across from her, as he had so many times facing Edward. “What do you suggest?” she asked.

He thought for a minute. He’d been thinking for the duration of the ride through Caprica City. “The Families may be responsible, but--”

“--But it’s all because of her.”

Bill nodded.

“You know what has to happen.”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“I know you trained her, Bill. But this goes way beyond Omerta.”

He didn’t like it. He’d grown up hearing how his dead older brother had been a casualty of his father’s and uncle’s foolish struggle against their former Guatrau. People made mistakes. Feelings got hurt. But in his and Laura’s familes’ business, that could be deadly. It was a fact of life they’d learned to accept. And anyone who crossed them knew it too. He met Laura’s eyes and nodded sharply. “Helena Cain is a dead woman.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What have you learned?” Laura asked.

He sat at her family’s dining room table, as she walked in from the kitchen holding a cherry cake. It smelled delicious. “You baked?”

She sat down after placing the cake platter in front of her place. She shrugged. “Your uncle’s recipe. Somehow, it always makes me feel...better.”

She picked up the knife and cut two pieces, one slightly larger than the other. She transferred the slices onto the dishes and handed him the larger piece. She moved the cake dish to the side and dug into her own piece.

She was there with him, but her mind had returned to the past, a simpler time, he knew. “Uncle Sam adored you, you know.” He grinned. “He always said you were the Αφεντικό στην εκπαίδευση.”

She smiled fondly. “I used to sit at the top of the stairs listening, when your father and uncle talked business. I was hiding when my dad--” She broke off, tears streaming down her face.

He stood up, strode around the table and put his hands on her shoulders. She was his Guatrau, but she was also his dearest friend, and that’s what she needed. He would be her Consigliere again in a few moments.

“Only I wasn’t hiding as well as I thought,” she continued, covering one of his hands with hers. “Sam came around to the staircase and winked at me before he left that night.”

He remembered that night, and most nights following it. The flashes of red hair through the banisters. The ill-timed giggles. But when he had glanced at her face, there’d been a seriousness, an understanding far beyond that of a child. Mostly he remembered the way Edward’s face lit up every time she accidentally revealed her presence. When Edward Roslin had accepted the title and responsibility of Guatrau, his eyes had been smiling because Laura had chosen that moment to giggle. That was the night the Adamas had sworn their allegiance to the Roslins. Now it was just Laura and Bill.

He squeezed her shoulders. “Your father always knew, Laura. His world rotated around you, like the brightest star.”

She looked up at him. “You always did have a way with words, Bill.” She cleared her throat. “Now, what have you learned?”

He removed his hands from her person and returned to his seat. “My sources say she went to ground immediately after...then she joined the Fleet.”

Laura raised a brow.

“She must have used some connections. Her new friends,” he said without bitterness. As personal as it was, it was still business.

She became every bit the Guatrau. “Her friends. Surprised she’s not with them.”

He shook his head. “The Families know the score. They’d never let her in their fold. They wouldn’t want that on their heads.”

Breaking Omerta meant death, but more important, it meant dishonor, and no respectable Ha'la'tha would ever aid Helena Cain after what she’d done. Not even those who’d benefitted from her treachery.

"Then we'll have to change directions. For now."

He picked up his fork. "What do you have in mind?"

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Always faithful to the soil,” the priest said as he spread the ashes exactly how Papa had wanted. Laura had decided the girls would go with him. It seemed fitting.

Like the remains of her family, Laura’s mind was scattered - past, present, and future collided. She shook it off. She was truly the Guatrau, and the people responsible for this...massacre - all but the one she really wanted - were in attendance. Paying their respect. It was good. They may not like her; they may not have liked her family, but they would respect her because she had what they needed: the means to ensure their long-term survival.

If she were Cheryl or Sandra, she would glare over at them all. Or, worse, she would threaten them in the middle of the service. Her sisters had inherited Judith’s fiery spirit; whereas Laura was much more subdued, like her father. So Laura didn’t glare at them, and as they arrived she had shaken each one’s hand and kissed everyone’s cheek, allowing them to follow suit. It was what her father would have done, and it was necessary. No matter how personal it was to her, to Bill, it was business. And she wasn’t willing to go to war. Her father’s role had been the result of the previous war. She had only been a child then, of course, but she had heard her parents and Joe and Sam Adama talking enough to know it had been bad. That her father had been meant to be the Guatrau who would end the conflict, and he had. And she would follow his legacy until she returned to the soil.

Bill squeezed her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Hmm. Just thinking.”

“You ready?”

“Absolutely.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

He was the consigliere for another Guatrau at another funeral service. So much of their lives seemed to be centered around them. He dabbed his eyes. In the chaos surrounding the last several days, he hadn’t had a chance to mourn properly. He would let go for the service, and then he would need to be the impartial consigliere for Laura.

Laura sat at his side, straight, poised, and ready. He had always admired her strength, but he couldn’t remember ever being prouder to serve her than he had been the last few days.
She had been his pillar when his father had died. She’d also convinced him to change careers.

After the service ended, Laura patted his arm. “Let’s get a drink.”

They entered Laura’s study, which was right next to her father’s, and she poured two glasses of ambrosia. They sat on her sofa - the big brown leather one he had helped her pick out and move into her office. “What are you gonna do?” she asked.

“About what?”

“Your life.”

He gazed at her. “What’s wrong with it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with it. But I think you have more potential than this.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Your dad--”

“Thinks the world of you.” She smiled. “What I’m talking about is a promotion. A big one.”

“Okay. I’ll bite.” There really wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for the Roslins.

“Dad needs a new consigliere.”

“I don’t have a law degree.”

Her smile only widened. “You’ll get one. And on my father’s cubit.” She paused. “And in the meantime, I’ll attempt to fill your father’s shoes, but I’ll need a little help, I think.”

He nodded. Laura Roslin would be acting Consigliere to her father. It was perfect. She was ideal for that role. “I’ll help the family any way I can, you know that.”

She nodded. “I do.” She patted his hand. “Your father would be so proud of you, Bill.” She sighed. “Are you okay? Do you need to talk? I’m not sure how good I’d be at it.”

She was doing that nervous talking thing. He fought the urge to grin. The Family’s Αφεντικό στην εκπαίδευση was more than proficient in the ways of business, but there were moments when he saw a glimmer of the young girl she’d been. “I’m good. I should get home.” Before his lovely bride laid into him again.

He stood and she gave him a quick hug, said she’d see him the next day, and he left, the warmth of her wedging deeper into his heart, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It had taken a few years, but he’d ended up following in his father’s footsteps instead of his uncle’s after all. If Bill had truly believed in the gods, he’d say Joseph was laughing at him from Elysium. Laura and Edward had guided him through every step. She had even stayed up with him several nights a week to study for his bar. Of course, that had only added fuel to Carolanne’s fire, but he hadn’t cared. As wrong as his wife had been about his involvement with the Roslins, the fact had remained that he had always been calmer and more content in the Roslin home than he’d ever been in the one he shared with his wife. Divorce had been inevitable, and Laura and Edward had helped him through that as well. It was his turn now.

The service ended, and everyone headed inside for the reception. Laura stood to meet the other Guatraus. He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be right inside, okay?”

She nodded. “I’ll get them started. You know what to do.”

“Wilco.”

She entered her home, and Bill went to the spot the ashes had been spread before the wind took them. “Always faithful to the soil, Guatrau,” he said. “You taught us both well, I promise. And I’ll protect her. Make sure she eats since she always forgets.” He chuckled. “I have to go. We’re gonna continue your legacy, make you proud.”

He wiped his eyes and schooled his features, ready to glower at the Families as Laura spoke.

Next Chapter

By Any Other Name: An Ikeaverse Installment

newnumbertwo — Thu, 13 Nov 2014 14:04:40 GMT

Title: By Any Other Name
Rating: T
Word Count: ~4k
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Kara and Laura collaborate to make Bill's day special...
A/N: This was written for the lovely fragrantwoods for her birthday. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta, brainstorming, and the title. *all the hugs*
This is set in an open 'verse, which begins here.

“We should do something big,” Kara said, apropos of nothing.

Laura looked up from her paperwork. “For?”

“The Old Man’s birthday.” Kara’s eyes clearly asked Laura if she were losing it. Maybe she was.

“Right, yes. Fifty-three. It’s something to celebrate indeed.”

“Well, only because we missed his fiftieth.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Kara shrugged. “What you got, coach?”

Laura laughed. “I may have a few ideas.” She put on her glasses and folded her hands in front of her. “Why don’t we think it over and regroup.”

Kara flicked Judy’s nose, much to the toddler’s delight, and exited the home office. Judy rubbed her eyes.

“Getting tired, baby?” Laura asked.

Judy yawned.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She stood and went to the playpen. “Mommy could use a nap too.” She picked Judy up and carried her to the sofa, where Geddy was sleeping--with one eye open as he so often did. As soon as she laid down, Judy on Laura’s chest, Geddy opened his eyes, stretched his back and front legs, and stepped across Laura’s body until he reached Judy. He gave his sister a quick lick, and then he created a spot between Laura and the sofa back, warming Laura’s side instantly. Judy snuggled deeper into Laura’s chest - her eyes shut tight. Laura patted Geddy and wrapped her arms around Judy, and fell asleep.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So what have you got?” Laura asked.

Kara shook her head. “Thought this would be easy. What do you give a man who has everything?”

Laura nodded. “I think we need reinforcements.” She picked up the phone and dialed. “Saul?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a minute?”

He snorted. “I’m retired. What do you think?”

She laughed. “Bill’s birthday’s coming up--”

“And you need ideas.”

“Yes, please. Kara and I have none.”

“First of all, don’t worry so much. The Old Man’s not one for ceremony, and he hates being the center of attention. Besides, you’ve already given him everything he’s ever wanted.”

She smiled. She hadn’t thought he’d liked her much at first, but he’d been a loyal friend to Bill and to her by extension. “Still, we’d like to make this special for him.”

“Yeah, I might...hold on.” Paper crinkled in the background. “Yeah, there’s an air show coming up. He’d wanna to share that with his family.”

“An air show?” Could it be that simple?

“Yeah. The Blue Angels. He hasn’t been around the sound of plane engines since he retired. That sound. Those smells. That’s been part of his life for so long.”

“He misses it.”

“So if you gave a little bit of it back, and he got to share it with you - with the kids.” A pause. “Yeah, I think that would work.”

“You’re a lifesaver, my friend. Oh, and Saul, what kind of plane did he fly? I might have an idea.”

“The A-6E Intruder. God, he loved that plane. Moped around for weeks when they retired it.”

“I know his callsign was Husker. Do you think I could find a model of it?”

“There’s a hobby shop. Think it’s still open, and they might have it. I could help you find it, if you want.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Laura said.

“What?” Kara asked.

Laura covered the phone. “Saul’s gonna help me find a model of Bill’s plane.”

“Can I go?” Kara asked.

Laura removed her palm from the receiver. “Kara wants to go in my place.”

“Yeah, great. Sure,” Saul said.

They ended the call, and Laura met her daughter’s eyes. “I know you’re up to something.”

Kara smirked. “When am I not? I’ll tell you later, I promise.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Kara climbed into his truck. Bounded rather. The girl was all energy and force. Reminded him of himself - forty years ago. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah. Can we...maybe...talk about something?”

Uh, oh. Talking wasn’t his forte. Certainly not to teenage girls. Or any kids for that matter. Even if Kara shared interests with him and the Old Man. That question, and her uncertainty, was ominous. Still, he couldn’t exactly say no. “Sure. What’s up?” He shifted into drive.

“I have an idea. Just...just tell me if it’s stupid, okay? I mean, you know the Old Man better than anyone, even Laura.”

He nodded. “I do.”

“I was thinking--”

“--Always a good start.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m pretty much an Adama already, you know?” He nodded. She continued, “What if I made it official?”

When he didn’t respond that second, she asked, “Is that dumb?”

He chuckled, but stopped when he glanced at her crestfallen face. For such a tough girl, she was very sensitive. Not unlike himself. “Are you kidding? The Old Man would be thrilled.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He thinks of you as his daughter now. Besides, you’d be sharing Laura’s name too.”

She nodded. “And Judy’s.”

He shook his head. “I can see it now. The three Adama girls each wrapping Bill around their fingers. Zak too.”

She snorted. Clearly picturing that. Or more accurately, remembering.

Saul hadn’t been there for Judy’s birth, but he’d seen the family a few days after they got home. And the Adama men had been so engrossed in their women, they’d barely noticed Ellen and him, even as hard as it was to ignore Ellen. They had presented their gifts like the fucking Wise Men and left.

“Is that your plan for his birthday?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “He’s always talking about family and stuff. Thought he’d like to know he’s part of mine.”

“Kara Starbuck Adama. I like the sound of it.” He nodded. “It’s a good name for a pilot.”

She laughed. “My dad named me Kara. Before he left, that is.”

“And Laura and Bill gave you the rest of your name.”

She nodded. Clearly thinking about how she’d carry pieces of three of her parents for the rest of her life. He hoped she would be able to leave her mother behind her, but knew those scars would remain. At least she would have Laura and Bill to offset some of the damage.

He switched lanes and prepared to turn into the shopping center. “This place ain’t look like much on the outside, but it has the best collection of models I’ve ever seen. This is where Bill bought that boat he’s always messing with.”

“Guess he would enjoy building his plane. After so long, you know?”

He parked in the back of the lot.

She snorted.

“What? I don’t want no one scratching my truck.”

She crinkled her brow. “You do realize she’s older than I am, right?”

“Why you think she runs so good? I baby her.”

“Was it hard?”

“Parking? Piece of cake.”

She shook her head. “No. You and Bill getting out. Not flying anymore.”

“Oh. Yeah, it wasn’t easy. I think Bill had a tougher time than I did, though. Never saw anyone more suited for the water and sky than that man.”

They climbed out of the truck and walked across the lot.

“I didn’t think much of him when we first met,” she said. “And he seemed, I don’t know, lost.”

He nodded.

“But he’s not like that anymore.”

“He has what he needs now. Who he needs.” He opened the door and held it open for her. “Besides, he’ll get to live through his kids now.”

She stepped inside. “What do you mean?”

He let the door close behind him. “You, Judy, Zak, and Lee. You’ll all grow up. Do great things.” He met her eyes. “You especially. The Old Man is so excited you’re joining the Navy.”

She blinked.

“Not that he wouldn’t be proud of you whatever you do. But I can’t deny he has pride in seeing you follow in his footsteps.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s true. Like how I’m glad I can talk to him about my training and stuff.” She gestured to the rack of models along the back wall. “Lead the way.”

They passed the stamps and coins racks. Saul shuddered. His own father had been an avid stamp collector although they didn’t have the money for such a hobby. He’d never understood the obsession. Not that he had Bill’s patience for model building either, but at least with that you did something. Created something.

Kara’s eyes lit up at the paint sets. He nudged her shoulder. “We have time,” he said.

She shrugged. “Maybe later.”

They continued to the back wall. They skipped the rows of cars and boats until...planes. It was like a timeline of aerospace history represented on the wall. There was a model of Da Vinci’s flying machine. The Wright Brothers’ plane. The blimps and other contraptions pre-World War II. Then all the fighter planes and bombers that exploded during and after WWII. But would there be the one they needed?

Kara pointed at one. “This it?”

He squinted to better read the label. “Yup.”

He grabbed the box and handed it to her, and followed her up to the register. The paint set aisle was forgotten, but at least he had somewhere to start for Christmas. Laura would know more about the brands and colors. She purchased the model, and they walked to the truck.

“You hungry?” he asked. “I could go for a burger, myself.”

She shrugged. “I could eat.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Bill’s brow was furrowed, an expression she’d always found adorable. Not that she had ever told him. “Professor Cain working you hard this week?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not that. I mean she is, but that’s nothing new.” He looked up from his book and notebook. “Besides, you know me. A little hard work won’t scare me away.”

She nodded. That persistence combined with his quiet but fierce caring was part of why she’d fallen for him.

“No. It’s about Kara,” he said.

“What, honey?”

She and Bill had spent the better part of their lives together worrying about one or all of their children, but past circumstances had dictated Kara receive the lion’s share of it. However, since she’d moved into their cabin, the almost overwhelming fear never far from the front of Laura’s mind had subsided. She’d thought Bill’s had too, but perhaps not.

“She’s nearly nineteen now.”

She nodded. “Yes. A legal adult. Free and clear.”

He sighed. “That’s just it, Laura. She lives here. Knows we love her, and that this is and always will be her home.”

“I’m not seeing the problem.”

“When she goes off to the Navy. If anything happens--”

“--Perish the thought.”

“If something happens, Laura, we have no rights according to the law. We’re just people she lived with for a while. Roommates even. No one would even think to call us. And even if they did, we’d have no say in anything.”

Oh. She’d been so busy rejoicing Kara’s newfound freedom she’d never even considered the potential repercussions. “We can’t have that. So what do we do?”

“Adoption.”

“We’ll have to talk to her, Bill.”

“Of course. But I have a feeling she’ll be on board.”

She smiled. “Me too.”

He grinned before turning back to whatever research labyrinth Helena Cain has sent him on this week. She loved to tease him about his hardass professor, but love her or hate her, the woman was an effective instructor, which was why he’d taken more of the courses she taught, and planned on taking all of them.

His eyes widened and narrowed alternatively as he moved across the pages, stopping every so often to mark his text or write in his notebook.

She had paperwork of her own to do and a grant to apply for. That was the thing with soft money - she had to keep applying for it, even if she’d already gotten it several years in a row. And there was no guarantee she would get it this year, no guarantee it would be the same amount if she did, and once it was gone… She hated budget cuts, always had, but there was only so much she could do, and she’d already cleaned house. She sighed as she rose to retrieve her computer.

“So what are Saul and Kara getting me for my birthday?” he asked, as she was leaving the room.

She stopped. “Who says it has anything to do with you?”

He met her eyes, clearly trying to read her. She schooled her features as they underwent a grown-up version of the staring contest their kids were always having. She was doing so well, and then she thought of the last time Bill and Kara had played. She snorted first. Then the onslaught of giggles came. He chuckled. “Can’t fool me, Laura.”

“Nor you, me.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it whatever it is.”

He stood and moved to the swing in the entrance to the dining room, leaned down, and kissed their sleeping daughter’s head. Geddy opened one eye, then the other, and licked Bill’s hand. Then he stretched before running to Laura’s side. “I’m just going to the office for a second,” she said to the dog, as his tail wagged.

“I don’t think that matters to him,” Bill said. “He just knows he wants to be with you, wherever you go. Not even Judy trumps you.”

Right. Now that she disturbed his nap, she may as well get to it.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Bill opened his eyes, he saw Laura was already awake - and watching him. “What?” he asked.

She gave him that shy grin that she reserved just for him. At least, that’s how it seemed. “Just watching you sleep. The way your eyelids flutter slightly as you’re waking.” She shrugged. “It’s cute.”

“If you say so. I’m not feeling particularly cute at the moment.”

She ran her hand through his hair. “You know how I feel about bedhead.”

Her own hair was sticking out at all angles, as it always did in the mornings. “Me too,” he said. He pulled her down for a kiss, morning breath be damned. “Good morning.”

She mmmed. “Happy Birthday.”

Her head rested against his chest, her hair falling haphazardly. A few stray strands tickled his nose. “I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

“I just wanna stay like this.”

Geddy had something to say about that, though. He jumped on the bed and barked. His tail smacked Bill’s thigh with the force of a helicopter propeller.

Laura laughed. “I’ll take him out, honey.”

Then she and the dog were gone, and he lay back against the pillows. He was fifty-five today. Where did the time go?

Judy’s cries came through the monitor. He grinned. Nothing better than a baby to keep the morose introspections at bay. He crawled out of bed and threw on his pants and t-shirt. Then he was in the nursery.

Judy sat up in her crib at the sight of him. All tears disappeared in an instant and she was all smiles.

He picked her up. “You’re a little trickster, aren’t you?”

She cooed in the affirmative.

He chuckled and held her hands, as she rubbed them up and down his face. She giggled.

“Daddy’s gotta shave.”

“But she loves your whiskers,” Kara said from behind him.

“I don’t. It itches something awful.” He cringed, and bounced Judy in the air. She loved to play ‘airplane’ with him. Another pilot in the making, perhaps? “One time I went seventy-two hours without shaving.”

“A whole seventy-two hours, huh? What were you doing?”

He bounced Judy again, and then held her against him. She burrowed her head into his neck. “It was when I was the XO of an aircraft carrier. We ran into the enemy, and they kept coming back. None of us slept until reinforcements came, and we could make our escape. And I was monitoring our radar screens nonstop.”

Kara nodded. “You’re a total badass.”

He chuckled. “And don’t forget it.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

As soon as Laura opened the front door, Geddy burst inside and ran to greet each person, as he did every morning. His job was made easier that morning because everyone was in the nursery. Laura followed. The sound of Kara’s “Morning, boy” greeted her. After receiving the requisite attention - a pat on the head followed by the opportunity to lick her hand - Geddy moved on to Bill and Judy, performing his typical jumping bean maneuver until Bill lowered Judy to greet the puppy.

Then, satisfied and apparently exhausted from his morning exertions, he left the nursery. Laura heard him jump on the sofa.

“I thought you were staying in bed, Bill,” Laura said.

He shrugged. “This one had other ideas,” he said, gesturing to Judy. “But this is better.”

“Well, just relax this morning. I’ve got breakfast.”

“We, we’ve got it,” Kara said.

Laura nodded. “Right. And Judy will provide your entertainment.”

Bill carried Judy into the dining room and placed her in the highchair before taking his place in the seat next to her. Kara followed Laura into the kitchen. “What can I do, boss?” Kara asked.

Laura hmmed. “I’m gonna fry the bacon first. Why don’t you make the toast?”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. I can do that.”

“After that, I’ll need your help with the cheesy eggs.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It can be.”

Together, they got breakfast on the table. “Looks delicious,” Bill said. “And you made cheesy eggs too. I love these.”

Laura grinned. “We know.”

Kara snorted. “It doesn’t take much, does it?”

Bill shook his head and dug in.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Laura told him to get ready, but she didn’t say for what. He knew better than to ask for a hint, but he did ask for suggestions in attire.

She shook her head, obviously onto him, and said, “Go for casual and warm.”

“I can do that.”

When he was dressed, Laura ushered him to the car and Kara brought Judy. Before they left the house, Geddy had followed them to the door and yipped. Laura had patted his head. “We’ll be back later, sweetie.”

Even with Geddy’s limited vocabulary, he had been able to understand that and had begun serenading them before they could even walk out. “What do you think he does all day?” Laura asked.

“Jumps on the couch and stays there until we come home,” Bill said. “He saves his crazy for us.”

She laughed. “Figures we’d end up with a neurotic dog.”

“Dachshunds think they’re people. They wanna do everything their owners do.”

“Only if we bring him anywhere, he’ll bark at anyone who comes close to me and attack other dogs.”

Laura was overestimating Geddy’s chances in a dogfight, but he didn’t say anything. She backed the car out of the driveway, and they were off. Somewhere.

He would get nothing out of Laura, but maybe their route would give him a clue.

That didn’t happen. At least not until she pulled into the airfield. The Blue Angels. He had forgotten it was that day.

“Now you can see why Geddy definitely couldn’t come with us,” Laura said.

In addition to wind, rain, snow, and sleet, Geddy was petrified of motorcycles, bikes, and most anything with wheels and a motor. Planes would freak him the hell out for sure.

Kara snorted from the back seat. “He’s like a baby that will never grow up,” she said.

They parked in the last row, and climbed out of the car. Laura took Judy, and Kara and Bill grabbed the chairs and diaper bag. Then they headed toward the crowd on the other side of the field. The Master of Ceremonies announced, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. In just nine minutes, we’ll begin with the Fat Albert.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Laura said in a bad imitation of Bill Cosby.

Judy giggled at the sound, and Laura bounced her in the air before holding her close again.

“What was that?” Kara asked, eyebrow raised.

“Fat Albert. It’s...never mind,” Laura said. “Why is it called that?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. They use the C-130. Where they got that name is beyond me.”

They joined the crowd. “Where’s the best spot, Bill?” Laura asked.

“As far back from the crowd as possible.” He spotted the roped off area, and gestured in that direction. “Right there.”

He led the way and set up their chairs.

“Why here?” Laura asked.

“We’ll still see everything, but the engines won’t be nearly as loud.” He pointed at Judy.

Laura nodded and sat next to him.

When the Fat Albert took off, Judy giggled and clapped her hands. Bill grinned, and took her off Laura’s lap. “Wanna fly like those planes?”

Judy ran her hands along his face.

“Daddy shaved.”

She giggled, and he hoisted her in the air, holding her there. Then he counted down from ten before bringing her back down to his lap. She clapped her hands, as though to say, “Again, Daddy.”

After the Fat Albert finished its assault landing, the Hornet took off. “Is that like yours, Dad?” Kara asked.

He shook his head. “The Tomcat is more like it, and both have a better range and payload than the Hornet.” Kara nodded. “But it’s versatile and reliable. We had several in our strike group,” he said.

Kara and Laura asked questions about the terminology or maneuvers, and he explained them, providing anecdotes from his career. “You know, I think I’ll arrange for the unit to see this next year,” he said. “Especially the cadets that complete Summer Leadership School.”

Kara laughed. “Best two weeks of my life.”

“Really?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, waking up at zero dark thirty to run six miles is the best.”

He chuckled. “Better get used to that, Starbuck.”

“Yes, sir.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Bill blew out the candles. Black Forest, his favorite. The girls had made it for him, and the top read, “Happy Birthday, Old Man” in blue icing.

Kara and Laura placed a wrapped package in front of him with a card on top. The card had a bulldog on the front saying, “One wrinkle joke, and I’m outta here.” Bill chuckled. He opened it. His whole family had signed it, even Geddy.

“Thank you,” he said. Then he patted Geddy’s head. “You too, boy.”

He peeled back the corner of the paper. Laura’s wrapping was always so pretty; he didn’t want to spoil it. The letters showed up first: A-6E. Could it be? He ripped the paper just enough to free the box. It was. The Intruder.

“This one’s yours, right?” Kara asked.

He nodded. “Just like it.”

“Then you’ll love your next gift.” She put a license plate on the table. “Didn’t have time to wrap it,” she said.

“Husker,” he read aloud.

“It’s too big for the model, but you can put it on Galactica II,” Laura said.

“Perfect. These are wonderful.” He squeezed their hands and kissed Judy’s forehead. She cooed in his face.

“Wait, there’s one more thing,” Kara said.

Laura raised a brow. Clearly this was a surprise even to her.

Kara rushed toward her room and burst out with an envelope and handed it to him. It was from the County Clerk’s office. “Kara?”

“Open it.”

He skimmed through the legal jargon. His eyes widened when they hit a name: Kara Adama. He glanced up at Kara. “Really?” He smiled.

She grinned. “It has a good ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

He handed the letter to Laura, and she exchanged looks with him. They smiled at their oldest daughter. “Funny you should do this, Kara,” he said. “Laura and I had something we wanted to discuss with you.”

Kara nodded. “Shoot.”

Laura waved the letter. “We want to make this official.”

Kara raised a brow.

“We want to adopt you,” Laura said.

“Really?” Kara asked.

Laura and Bill nodded. Kara hugged Laura first then Bill. She picked Judy up out of the swing and twirled her around. “You’re stuck with me, kid!”

Judy nuzzled against Kara’s neck and Kara hugged her tight.

Laura met his eyes. He just grinned.

The Perfect Blend: An Ikeaverse Installment

newnumbertwo — Thu, 06 Nov 2014 12:40:11 GMT

Title: The Perfect Blend
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Laura/Bill, Ellen/Saul, Kara, Sam, Billy, Karl, Gaeta, MOC
Rated: T
Word Count: ~3800
Disclaimer don't own them.
Summary: Laura, Bill and co prepare for Judy Adama's appearance.
A/N: Written for the lovely afrakaday for her birthday. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the brainstorming, beta-ing, and title help. *hugs all around*
A/N2: This is part of an open 'verse, which begins here.

She flipped another page in the color book. Perhaps Bill had been right: they had too many options. It wasn’t like they were new to this; they’d designed their entire cabin. But this felt different somehow. Planning for someone who wasn’t yet present, who couldn’t voice her opinion. Although Laura liked to think those kicks were Judy’s way of joining their conversations.

“Nothing?” Bill asked.

She shook her head. “Maybe we should discuss her sleeping arrangements first.” She sighed. “My eyes are starting to cross.”

“Yeah.”

He helped her to the couch. She didn’t walk so much as waddle anymore, and every step was a victory, however minor. She sat down heavily and leaned against the sofa back. He joined her and rested his hand on her stomach. “There she is,” he said.

“Where did Lee and Zak sleep when they were babies?”

He shrugged. “Carolanne and I were idiots when it came to parenting. We made it up as we went for the most part. And I wasn’t home much. Didn’t make or contribute to many of the decisions.”

She nodded.

He gently squeezed her stomach. “It’s so different this time.” She laid her hand over his and held it. “Anyway, sleeping arrangements. Lee hated his crib, so Carolanne brought him to bed with us one night.” A beat. “Come to think of it, that’s probably why it was a few years before we had Zak. That and my deployments. Zak was a completely different animal. He loved his crib. But he didn’t like sleeping so much. And Carolanne kept his toys in there. Probably part of the problem.”

She snorted. “Probably.”

“Told you we were idiots.”

“Well, I just read a thoroughly terrifying article about SIDS.”

He shuddered.

“I don’t think I want her in bed with us, but I’m not sure she should go in the nursery right away.”

He nodded. “With the feedings, doesn’t seem to be much point.”

“That too.”

Laura was determined to breastfeed, at least for the first few months. There were too many benefits for the baby not to do so. Plus, she was never one to condone wastefulness.

“A bassinet in our room then, is probably our best bet. Small enough to inhibit a lot of movement,” she said.

“Why does that matter?”

“If we place her in it on her back, and the bassinet is small enough, she won’t be able to roll over. Not that she could at that stage anyway. Plus, I think I remember reading babies like small spaces because that’s what they’re used to in the womb.”

“Makes sense.”

She clapped her hands. “Now, let’s talk colors.”

“We can always change her room later. I mean, we’ll have to a few times as she grows, regardless. It’s okay if we don’t know what she likes yet,” he said.

She nodded. “I know she doesn’t care for pink.”

“Why not?”

“Neither of my sisters ever did. Nor my mother. Or me. Can’t argue with several generations of genetic predisposition.”

He chuckled. “Considering her parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if Judy decided she was in love with the color.”

She laughed. “I think we have a few months at least before the stubborn rebelliousness kicks in.”

“If not pink--”

“There’s lavender. Or green. A nice creamy green could encourage thought and creativity.”

“That sounds nice. Calm.”

She nodded. “You know we’ll still have to choose between the paint chips, right?”

“How could I forget?”

She rolled her eyes. Perhaps she had been a bit...steadfast in her color choices for their room. But they’d also made up quite nicely.

They heard the key turning in the front door. Kara was home. She burst into the living room. “Did you decide anything yet?”

Laura nodded. “We did. We’ve worked out the sleeping arrangements and the basic color scheme in the nursery.”

“Oh, good. And no bloodshed.” Kara snorted. “I thought I’d have to ref.”

“There’s still time,” Bill said.

“All right, you two,” Laura said. She loved their closeness - when they weren’t teamed up against her. “How’s cream-green sound?” she asked Kara.

Kara scrunched her nose slightly as she considered. “Yeah, that could work. Could I maybe paint some pictures too? You know, like accent pieces.”

“Of course. And paint with her when she’s old enough.”

Kara laughed. “I can see that being...messy. But a lot of fun.”

Kara kissed Laura’s cheek, rubbed Laura’s stomach and said, “Goodnight Judy.” She hugged Bill before disappearing into her bedroom.

“Ready for bed?” he asked.

“Not just yet.”

He frowned. “You aren’t sleeping well, are you?”

She stroked his face. “It’s completely normal. All the books say so.”

“What if I rubbed your back and legs, would that help?”

She mmmed. “Certainly couldn’t hurt.”

He rose from the couch and held out his hand for her. “My lady,” he said as he helped her up.

She giggled. “Thank you, kind sir.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“So I talked to Ellen last night,” Kara said.

Bill poured their coffees. Laura was still asleep, thank God. It had taken a massage, foot rub, and several chapters of their book before she was finally out for the night. It was a good thing they were both past the age when they needed a lot of sleep. “About?” He raised a brow. His best friend’s wife was many things, but a suitable advisor wasn’t one of them.

She laughed. “You know, you make that face every time someone mentions her. You don’t even do that with Carolanne.”

He brought their coffees to the table. “We have...history.”

It was her turn to raise a brow.

“Not like that.” He shuddered before taking a sip. “It’s like we were both fighting over Saul. I was trying to keep him in the Navy. Keep him sober. Straight. And she wasn’t.”

“So you were the angel on his shoulder, and she was the devil.” She laughed. “I can so see that.” Her face scrunched in thought as she sipped her coffee. “But they both seem okay now.”

He nodded. “I think maybe I was wrong. They needed each other and a chance to straighten out together. On their own.”

“That makes sense. Anyway, say what you want about the woman, she knows how to throw a party, and that’s what we need.”

“For?”

“Laura, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Pink balloons and flowers, a cake, presents for the baby. Ringing any bells?”

Right. “I guess I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well, the men aren’t part of it. Maybe you, Saul, and the boys can go fishing or something.”

“Or something.” He nodded. “So you and Ellen are planning it?”

“Yup.”

“Do you need anything from me?”

She shook her head.

“Then I leave it in your capable hands. And Ellen’s.”

“That took a lot out of you.”

“Not as much as you think. Now about the furniture…”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

After days of deliberating over the paint chips, they narrowed their choices to a single store if not a hue. “Let’s go before they close,” Bill said.

One thing to be said about those big chains, they did have convenient hours.

Laura told Kara where they were going and Kara snorted. “As much as I’d love to watch you two, I have something to do tonight.”

Bill chuckled. “Don’t worry. We still have to get the paint on the wall.”

Laura rolled her eyes, but then she placed her hand in his, and he led her out to the car. “It’s nice to get out of the house,” she said.

He nodded. After the last of her school-related responsibilities, she’d been able to stay home, with Kara or Bill running the errands. Laura’s doctor, while completely optimistic throughout the pregnancy, suggested remaining homebound with plenty of bedrest during the last trimester was best for mother and child. Considering the preparations they’d been making - and still had ahead of them - this was a fine idea anyway. But Laura was a ‘doer.’ And no matter how much of a homebody she was, she still needed to get out occasionally.

He opened her car door, and she climbed in.

When they got to the store, they strode to the paint section.

“Can I help you?” an attendant asked.

“Yes, please,” Laura said. “We’re painting our nursery.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” She paused. “We’re looking for a cream-green. Something calm and soothing. There’re also studies about green’s intellectual properties.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. I’ve never heard that.”

Before Bill knew it, Laura was talking to the young man - Josh, a freshman psych major - about color psychology, and very likely influencing his educational and career path. She was in ‘teacher mode,’ and he realized how much she’d missed it, probably since becoming an administrator.

Josh guided them to the green area of the spectrum. Laura dug out the pictures of the nursery in its current state, the photos she’d found on Pinterest, and the paint chips she and Bill were considering. Bill hung back, as Laura and Josh deliberated. He simply nodded encouragingly or shook his head, at appropriate intervals.

“Remember, it looks different on the wall,” Josh said.

Laura laughed. “Believe me, we know.” She nudged Bill. “Don’t we?”

He chuckled. “Yup.” He met Josh’s eyes. “We planned and built our cabin together - from the ground up.”

“Oh.” Josh’s eyes widened. “That’s very impressive.”

“It was our dream home. Our first home together,” Laura said.

She squeezed Bill’s hand, and he returned the gesture.

“If I may ask, how--”

“Long have we been together,” Laura said. She grinned. “Everyone wonders that. We’re coming up on the two year anniversary of our first date.”

Josh nodded and returned their attention to the task at hand.

When they left the store, they had several mini buckets to sample. “Tomorrow, Bill. We’re making a final decision.”

“It’s time.” He helped her into the passenger seat.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“This is so much fun! Laura’s just gonna love it,” Ellen said.

Kara nodded. “Yeah.” Maybe. It would be an experience anyway.

“Would you like more soda?” Kara shook her head. Ellen snorted. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent Saul out. He could have served us.”

Kara laughed. “He’d do that?”

“If I asked him, he’d do anything. That’s true power, Kara. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

Kara nodded but said nothing.

“Of course, he can’t keep anything secret, though.”

Maybe that was true, but he’d done a pretty convincing job grumbling about ‘pink stuff’ in his house on the way out. Ellen would have had a difficult task had she wanted him to stay.

“I’m so glad you came to me with this. I’m the best party planner.”

Kara sipped her coke. “Yeah.” When they actually planned anyway. Kara had spent most of the evening redirecting their focus. “So when should we do this?”

“Soon. I mean she could pop at anytime.” Ellen laughed. “Could you imagine if she went into labor here? That would be a baby shower to remember.”

Kara shook her head. Not if Laura had anything to say about it. She and Bill had outlined a ‘delivery plan’ with her doctor, and according to her last check-up, they were still right on target. With Laura and Bill for parents, how could the littlest Adama do anything but fall in line?

“Ooh, let’s do it next Saturday. Now we need to think of a convincing story.”

Laura would know something was up if Ellen invited her over. They got along fine - when their associations were limited. They weren’t ‘catty’ or anything, but the two women were like oil and water. “What if you and Saul invited us for lunch?”

Ellen nodded. “But then we’d have to get rid of the boys.”

“After lunch. Coach can have a relaxing lunch, and the Old Man can see her face when people start showing up.”

Ellen giggled. “Yeah, that’ll work. Oh, Kara! I found the cutest invitations on Etsy.”

Ellen bounced off the couch and into the dining room, returning with a pink piece of paper. “It’s shaped like a onesie. Isn’t it precious?” she asked.

Kara tried not to roll her eyes as she took the paper. Aside from the color and shape, it was a standard invitation. She nodded.

“Great! I’ll order them and then we can send them out.” Ellen sat back down. “Who should we invite? How many do you think?”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////

When Kara opened the front door, Laura’s giggles and Bill’s deep chuckle enveloped her. She found them in the living room, Laura leaned against Bill’s chest, and they held a catalogue together. “Hi, Kara. How was your night?” Laura asked.

Kara nodded. “Good, thanks. Did you get the paint?”

“We got samples to try on the wall,” Laura said. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

“I can’t miss this.” Kara grinned. “What’s that?” She pointed at the catalogue.

“A baby book of all the stuff we’ll need,” Bill said. “Of course, without knowing exactly what the walls are gonna look like--”

“But we still need to have ideas, Bill.” Laura rolled her eyes. “It’s been our chicken and egg argument of the evening,” she said to Kara.

“But the colors, you liked those, right?” Kara asked.

Bill and Laura nodded. “The variations are so slight,” Laura said.

Bill snorted. “And I have no opinions, either way.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You say that now.”

“And I’ll mean it then too.”

Kara shook her head. As entertaining as it was to watch the Adamas do marriage, she was pooped. Who knew party planning could be so tough? “Well, good night. I’m sure tomorrow will be fun.”

“Good night, honey,” Laura said. “So, you had a good time tonight? I don’t think I remember what you said you were doing.”

That’s because she hadn’t said anything.

“Weren’t you helping Zak with his homework?” Bill asked. He shot her a quick wink.

“Yeah,” Kara said. “He was doing much better by the time I left. And your ex even ordered a pizza for us. Zak thinks it’s ‘cause she’s dating again.” And now I gotta text him.

“That’s good. I’m happy for her,” Bill said.

“Are you hungry?” Laura asked.

Kara yawned. “No, just exhausted.” She kissed Laura’s cheek and hugged Bill and wished them a final good night.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Bill opened the mint green can first, dipped the brush, and applied it on the wall. It looked okay in natural light. “Turn on the light, Laura.” The light hit the room, and he stood back. “What do you think?”

“Hmm. Do you think it’s too green?”

He opened the next can. “Let’s see what it looks like next to the others.”

Pale moss went up next.

“Ooh, yes, Bill. So calming.”

“I like it too.” He wrapped his arm around her back. “Should we see the others?”

She shook her head. “I was waiting for the ‘ah ha’ moment. This was it.” She covered his hand with hers. “You really like it, right?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I really do.”

They planned to return to the store for the rest of their paint after lunch. “I wonder if Josh will be there again. I think he’ll be pleased with our selection,” she said.

“I’m sure whoever is working will be just as helpful.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m being silly. He reminded me of Billy is all.”

He squeezed her hand. “That’s not silly.”

She missed her children, but maybe there was something he could do about that.

“Come on. I’ll make our sandwiches.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“I have an odd request,” Bill said.

“Okay,” Kara said. “Shoot.”

“I think the Colonial Runners should be at the shower.”

Kara snorted. “You weren’t kidding. Ellen’s gonna blow a gasket.”

Bill nodded. “She misses them. All of them, especially Billy.”

“Well, Ellen and me weren’t sure who to invite anyway. And maybe knowing a bunch of boys will be there will keep her from going overboard.”

Bill chuckled. “She does love a party.”

“Could you have warned me, do you think?”

He clapped her back. “Would you have listened?”

She laughed. “You got me there, Old Man.” She chewed her thumb nail. “This is becoming less of a baby shower all the time.”

“When is a shower not a shower?” Bill asked.

“When it’s a kick ass party with all her favorite people.”

He grinned. “Exactly. Focus on that.”

He exited her room.

“Where are you going?”

“Paint run.”

Just like him to leave right when she’s in the middle of a breakthrough. Whatever.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Lunch with the Tighs. That was a likely story. She’d seen the looks between Bill and Kara. But she would act surprised when everyone popped out in a dark room.

Bill led her to the car, Kara climbed in the backseat, and they were off.

When they arrived, Bill helped her as she waddled up the driveway.

Ellen opened the door. “Laura! You look great!”

“Ready to burst, more like,” Laura said.

“Well, I’m sure you’re looking forward to that,” Ellen said. “Come in. Come in.”

Laura and Bill stepped on the front porch and into the house, where Ellen grabbed them both into tight hugs before moving on to Kara.

“Hey, everyone,” Saul called from the other room. “Just in time for chow.”

“Perfect,” Laura said.

Ellen led them into the dining room with promises to serve them.

“Smells wonderful,” Bill said.

“We found out the little Italian place in town caters,” Ellen said. “And we just had to try it.” She guided them to their seats. “We have red and white. What would you like, Bill?” She smiled at Laura and Kara, who were sitting next to each other. “And we have sparkling grape juice.”

“Great. That’s wonderful,” Laura said.

Kara nodded and grinned at Laura.

“Red sounds good for me, thanks,” Bill said.

“And I’ll have more of the red,” Saul said.

“Certainly, and you’re gonna help me, dear,” Ellen said.

Saul clearly bit back a protest and followed Ellen into the kitchen.

If people were going to pop out, they would have by now. Perhaps she had been wrong. Works for me.

The meal was delicious: Fresh ceasar salad and chicken marsala over linguini. In the middle of the table was a basket of baked bread and a dish of oil and herbs to dip. With the sparkling juice and the company - it was perfect. “So good,” Laura said. “Thanks so much for inviting us. It’s a wonderful treat.”

Ellen smiled. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it. I thought maybe you’d want to get out of the house for a bit. You’re like me, Laura. You’re a social butterfly.”

Laura resisted the urge to snort; she appreciated the sentiment, even if it was inaccurate. She nodded. “We have been getting a bit stir crazy, I guess. But we’ve gotten a lot done in the nursery.”

Ellen and Saul took turns asking Laura and Bill about how the nursery looked so far, what plans they had for further development, and their overall experiences. Laura wasn’t sure how interesting their experiences over the past weeks were, but their audience seemed to be amused.

Then Ellen clapped Saul on the shoulder. “Come help me clean up.” She glanced around the table. “Then we’ll have dessert.”

Ellen and Saul gathered the dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

“All right, what’s going on?” Laura asked.

“What are you talking about?” Kara asked. Her poker face had been better.

“Hmm.”

Bill sat straighter in his chair. His face stonier than usual. She was unlikely to get anything out of either of them, but at least she knew there was something to her suspicions.

The doorbell rang.

From the kitchen, Ellen screeched and sent Saul to answer the door.

Billy? It was definitely a young male at the door. Then Ellen was at the door. “Welcome, welcome. Come inside.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Tigh, Colonel Tigh.”

There was no doubt it was Billy.

He approached the table and stopped behind Laura. “Hey, Mrs. Adama, everyone.”

“Billy! How are you?” She craned her neck to see his face. “You got taller, I think.”

He blushed. “Maybe a little. How’s your summer? You look...fine.”

She laughed. “You really don’t know anything about women, do you?” She stood. “Come here,” she said opening her arms.

He hugged her.

“You’re just in time for dessert,” Ellen said.

Billy nodded and took a seat next to Bill. “And how are you, sir?”

Bill shook Billy’s hand. “Very good. Thanks. It’s been a great summer to spend with family.” He glanced pointedly across the table at Laura and Kara.

The doorbell rang again.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Zak, Sam, Karl, and Felix crowded around the table. Felix shook her hand and said how well she looked before sitting. The other former and current Colonial Runners took turns hugging her. “Lee said he might stop by after work,” Zak said.

“Oh, good,” Laura said.

After his appearance at the ROTC ceremony, Lee had joined her and Bill for dinner a few times, and he had taken to calling his father about once a week. The relationship between father and son was still fraught with tension, but Laura understood what they didn’t: they were too much alike - while still being very different men - to get ever along easily.

For Laura’s part, she’d quickly grown to love her oldest son. He reminded her a lot of herself at his age. If she could reach him, he might benefit from their relationship.

Karl hugged her, and then he handed her a gift bag.

“What’s this?” she asked.

He shrugged. “My mom went through her closet. Aside from me, she had all girls, and she kept everything. She said these were essential items you could never get enough of.”

She peered inside. Bibs, booties, pacifiers, onesies. She grinned. “These are perfect. I’ll call your mother tomorrow. Are you sure she doesn’t want these things for her grandchildren?”

He chuckled. “Mrs. Adama, she’s got more than enough for several grandchildren.”

She laughed, and he sat next to Kara. She could hear them catching up although they had seen each other recently.

Sam leaned down to hug her. “How’s my favorite coach?”

“Huge,” she said. “But very happy. How are you? Have you started practice yet?”

He grinned. “Not yet. I don’t know what to do with myself. I hope I don’t get out of shape.”

Kara snickered. “Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll never let that happen.”

He chuckled at that and sat next to Laura.

Ellen stood from her end of the table. “Now that we’re all here, I’ll bring out the lava cake.”

Laura squeezed Kara’s hand. “I don’t know what role you had in all of this, but thank you.”

Kara put her arm around Laura. “Couldn’t have done it without Ellen - or the Old Man.”

Fic: All Other Assigned Duties

newnumbertwo — Tue, 19 Aug 2014 11:58:54 GMT

Title: All Other Assigned Duties
Rating: K+
Word Count: ~1600
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Characters: Laura, Billy, OCs
Summary: A slight ironing mishap leads to shared tips and stories...
A/N: Written for the lovely singerdiva01_sk for her birthday. Much thanks to lanalucy and laura_mayfair for the beta and the varied prompts that helped bring this together. *hugs*

“Oh, frak!”

Laura’s head darted up from the latest fuel report. “Billy?”

No answer, which was even stranger than his sudden pilot’s mouth. She strode toward his quarters and pushed the curtain aside slightly. “Billy?”

“Sorry, Madame President. I’m...oh, frak. Sorry.”

She peeked inside. He was dressed and didn’t seem to be in physical distress. She slammed the curtain open and stepped into the room. “What is it?”

Then she saw he was leaning over an ironing board, losing a fight - and a perfectly innocent shirt - to the iron in his hand. “I never learned how. How pathetic is that?” he said.

She laughed, which probably wasn’t helping his feelings on the matter. But she couldn’t help it. To her surprise - and delight - he joined in.

She laid her hand on his back. She would have gone for his shoulder if she could have reached it. “Of all the problems to have, this one’s not so bad.”

He set down the iron so it could do no further harm and faced her.

“I bet you never thought you’d be doing this when you accepted the position,” she said.

“No, ma’am.”

“This must fall under the category of ‘all other assigned duties’.”

He smiled.

He had taken on so many of those ‘other’ duties since the attacks, most of which they’d never discussed and she’d never assigned. He had just done them. No questions asked.

Her green shirt lying flat on the ironing board was further evidence of his devotion to his job.

“I ruined your shirt. And you have so few of them.” He shook his head in disgust.

She patted his back. “Let me see.”

It was scorched but by no means beyond repair.

“How bad is it?”

She smiled. “I’m gonna teach you what I learned my first semester in college.”

“What?”

“When I left home for school I had to learn to do laundry. Now, I had always washed, dried, and folded my clothes, but I had never ironed. That had been my mother’s job.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “And if it were up to me, I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”

“I understand that.”

“So, for a long time I didn’t iron. I simply fluffed everything in the dryer. But one morning I had a job interview, and I knew I needed to iron to look my best.

“My mother had always made it look so easy. So I got out my ironing board and gave it a shot. I won’t bore you with the details, but my shirt looked much worse than this by the time I had finished.”

He snorted in disbelief. “What did you do?”

“I called my mom in tears, and she talked me through it.” She smiled wistfully. “Get me a brush, and I’ll share her secret.”

He darted off into their shared head and ran back with her hair brush. “Will this work?”

She nodded as he handed it to her, and she brushed the scorch marks off the worst area. “See? It’s not so bad. Now you try.”

He grabbed the brush and continued brushing off the burned fibers.

“We’ll need to have it washed again, I’m afraid, but otherwise, it should be good as new.”

He pulled the shirt off the board and placed it in the makeshift hamper at the foot of his cot. She exited his quarters, and he followed her back to the main office.

“So did you get that job?”

She nodded. “I did.” She snorted. “I hated it, though, and quit a few months later.”

“Can’t imagine you quitting anything.”

She laughed. “My stubborn longevity came with age.”

He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.” He became thoughtful. “This is my first job, you know.”

“I do.”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of quitting.”

She quirked her eyebrow. “As if I would let you go.”

They both laughed.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

This was his first job and would probably be his last - unless he actually did become President one day, as Adama had told him President Roslin had suggested. In the meantime, he would be perfectly content as Chief of Staff.

Of course, much like his boss, he’d had no idea how quickly he would be promoted when he’d accepted the position as Secretary Roslin’s personal aide. He’d been an ordinary Caprica University political science major and debate team champion when his faculty advisor notified him of the open positions in the government office and encouraged him to apply.

He’d walked to the government building after school and had been surprised when a personal assistant ushered him inside for an interview. He’d blushed slightly and explained he wasn’t dressed for an interview, as if that fact had required any mention. The woman had simply smiled and said he’d looked fine.

Then he’d found himself in a room with a slightly older man.

“Come on in. Have a seat.”

Billy complied.

The man shook his hand. “I’m John Brown. Personal aide to Secretary Roslin.” He smiled. “It’s a great job, and she’s an amazing boss. Taught me everything I know. But now, she’s ‘pushing me out of the nest,’ as she says. And I’m looking for my replacement.”

Billy nodded. “What are you going to do next, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Secretary of Defense needs an aide. That’s a good place for me now.”

“Congratulations, sir.”

“Thank you. Now, tell me about yourself. What brought you here today?”

Billy took a breath. He gave his name and what his advisor had said, a brief explanation of his coursework.

John nodded. Then he handed Billy a file. “This is the application. If you’ll fill this out and give it to Donna on your way out, we’ll get back to you shortly.”

Billy had completed the application and left the office, unsure what the initial interview had meant. When he hadn’t heard from Mr. Brown for several days, he’d concluded he hadn’t gotten the job. So when Donna had called him a few weeks later, he’d been shocked.

The second interview with Mr. Brown had been much more grueling, but at the end, he’d shaken Billy’s hand and welcomed him to the team.

“Your first day should be fun, too. Secretary Roslin is scheduled to speak at the decommissioning ceremony of an antique battlestar, Galactica, tomorrow.” He handed Billy a file. “This is a copy of her speech, her itinerary, and everything else you need to know. Take it home, study it, and report back here tomorrow afternoon.”

Billy had left the office before realizing he hadn’t even asked about salary or work schedule. He’d shaken his head and decided to discuss those items with Secretary Roslin.

Of course, he never had talked about those mundane concepts. He’d become her de facto Chief of Staff and learned that like his boss’s job, his was a 24-hour responsibility. Mr. Brown had been right, though: Laura Roslin was an amazing boss, and she’d taught him everything he knew.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“What are you thinking?” She asked.

Billy grinned. “Just remembering how I got this job.”

She nodded. “I’m very grateful to your faculty advisor.”

His eyes widened. “You knew?”

“Of course. You don’t think I’d allow someone to work for me without my express approval, do you?”

He chuckled. “When you say it like that…”

The receptionist, Donna, had been told to notify Laura’s office if anyone arrived asking about the open position. Laura had been assigning John his duties for his final weeks as her assistant when the phone had rung. She and John had exchanged looks as though they’d been playing a game of chicken. Then she’d rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, after she’d informed him it was only because they had been in her office.

“That was Donna. She says she has a ‘live one’ for us.”

He chuckled. “I’ll report back soon.”

When John had returned with Billy’s application, he’d said he had a good feeling. Laura had peeked through it, but then the teachers’ strike had exploded, and that had taken over their focus for a few weeks.

When the strike had calmed down enough for her to go home at a decent hour one night, she’d read the application. The next day she’d told John to bring Billy onboard. It had been one of the best decisions she’d ever made.

“So, when John hired me--”

“It was really me, yes.”

He shook his head, but she could see he was amused. Then he met her eyes. “What made you decide?”

She smiled. “Your honesty. And I trusted John’s judgement - just like I trust yours. He vouched for you. Said he saw the potential.” A beat. “And your performance at Caprica University was very impressive.”

“But you said--”

“I said a lot of things. I’m not always right, believe it or not.” She smirked at his hesitant yet firm nod. “I needed you to prove yourself to me quickly. And you did.” She reached across the desk and placed her hand on his arm. “And you’ve exceeded all my expectations.”

“I’ve hardly thought of school or the debate team or...home since the attacks. It’s like that life doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Don’t say that. You need it to continue. I need it. This life will only be temporary, if my visions prove accurate. And then we’ll need the best of ourselves, of our old lives, to rebuild on Earth.”

He nodded. “Then I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t.”

Fic: Burgeoning Brotherhood

newnumbertwo — Wed, 06 Aug 2014 19:38:33 GMT

Title: Burgeoning Brotherhood
Word Count: ~900
Rating: K+
Fandom: Major Crimes
Characters: Rusty, Ricky, Sharon (implied Sharon/Andy)
Disclaimer: don't own them.
Summary: Rusty and Ricky Skype sometime after their visit...
A/N: Much thanks to lanalucy for the beta. *giant huggles*

Rusty logged onto Skype. It wasn’t too late. If it were, Ricky would probably have something to say about that too. Ricky’s face materialized on the screen. He blinked once before grinning. “Hey, little brother.”

“Big brother.”

“You know, I never realized it before. I kind of like not being the ‘baby’ anymore.”

“She doesn’t baby me.”

Ricky met his eyes pointedly, or as much was possible through the camera lens and screen. “Does too.”

Rusty snorted. “Are we already at this point, man?”

Ricky laughed. “We’re brothers, right? Emily and I argued like this all the time.” He shook his head. “And then Mom would settle it. She never chose favorites, you know. Sometimes I was right, sometimes Em was, but Mom - Mom was always right.”

“Oh, so it’s not just me, then? I’ve never won an argument with her. Ever. And I’m supposed to, like, be a good chess player, or something.”

Ricky grinned. “We’re good, brother, but Mom’s at a level all of her own. But back to our discussion. Didn’t you tell me she burst into an apartment barefooted to save you?”

Rusty shrugged. “She’s a cop. That’s probably not the best example.”

“She’s a mom.” Ricky ran his fingers through his hair. “What do you think of this? Better?”

His hair was much cleaner-cut. With his clean shave, he looked more like a professional than a computer geek now. Sharon would love it. “Much better, dude.”

“Thanks. Um, we should probably…”

Rusty put up his hand. “We’re family. Means we don’t have to apologize.” Ricky nodded. “Plus,” Rusty continued. “It’s not really your fault.”

“I should have known not to listen to my dad.” Ricky shook his head. “I don’t think he’s ever told me the truth.”

“I used to believe everything my mom said. Even after I knew she was a liar.”

Ricky nodded. “And now?”

“Now I talk to your mom. Or Dr. Joe. Or the guys. They’re always straight with me.”

Ricky smiled. “Mom always was a straight shooter.”

“Yeah.”

“So are you and Mom gonna come visit soon? There’s so much I want to show you.”

“I’m game, but you know your mom.”

Ricky snorted. “Tell me about it. She had to bail out on our Christmas vacation because of a Major Crimes case one year. And that was before she was even part of that division.”

Rusty’s jaw dropped. “Dude. I didn’t hear this one. What happened?”

Ricky explained how he and Emily had met at their grandparents’ house and had made the best of the holidays together. Sharon had called and Skyped as much as she could, and when the case was finally over, she had joined them. It had been too late for Christmas, but at least she’d been able to celebrate New Years with them.

They compared notes on some other things. Like what was up with the “dinners” between Sharon and Andy. Ricky implied there was some history there, but he didn’t say much. Probably didn’t know much. It would be like Sharon to keep that part of her life to herself. When Rusty asked how it felt, Ricky shrugged. “I’d be okay calling him ‘Dad’ if they ever...”

Rusty nodded. “Yeah, I think I would too. But I don’t know, man, she seems to like being single.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. Here, she’s in charge. Everything’s how she wants it. You, Emily, me. The apartment. She’s getting divorced.” Rusty shrugged. “If it were me, I’d want to keep it like that. Why rush into something else? Everything that goes with it.”

“Not very romantic, are you?”

Rusty shook his head. “Nah. I just...I’ve seen too much, you know?”

“And so has Mom.” Ricky nodded. “It’s weird. Of the three of us, you’re the one who’s the most like her.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Ricky met his eyes. It was like he was staring into his soul. “I do.” He broke eye contact a bit. “Well, I should get to bed.”

“Yeah, what is it with you Raydors and early bedtimes?”

Ricky chuckled. “We’re a family of early risers. Except Emily. Her ballet lifestyle, you know? The only time she ever woke up early was when she was training. And Christmas morning.”

Rusty laughed. He’d had a much easier time connecting with his sister than his brother. Emily had her mother’s looks and voice, so when they’d connected on Skype the first time, Rusty just started talking, like he would have with Sharon. It had been easy. And fun. He’d been adopted (although not officially yet) into a family with a sense of humor. And she’d had him in stitches pretty quickly. “Well, good night, Ricky.”

Ricky’s face disappeared when he’d logged off, and Rusty closed the program and closed his MacBook. “I know you’re standing there, Sharon,” he said without looking.

Sharon stepped into his room. “Sounds like you’re getting along better.”

“Yeah. And his hair’s much better too.”

Sharon laughed. “That’s good.”

“He really wants us to visit. Think you can get away?”

She tilted her head. “I’ll do what I can, okay?”

He nodded. “Good night, Sharon.”

She approached his bed and leaned to kiss his forehead. “Good night, honey.”

She exited his room, closing his door behind her, tears of joy streaming down her face.