A/N- I just wrote this after the first little DOA mini-trailer, so it's probably all wrong haha, but it was fun, so I hope you like it. Kudos if you catch the Closer reference (;
Suddenly, a hand clamped down over her mouth, and she jolted upright, drawing breath to scream when Rusty's face loomed over hers. He held a finger to his lips.
"Shh," he leaned close to her face and whispered "There's someone in the house."
Ice water ran through her veins. The letters. Threats, plural. She should have insisted upon more security when Pope refused. She fumbled for her glasses and gently pushed Rusty back a step.
"Rusty, you wait right here." She slid the covers back silently and crept out of bed, slowly prowling across her room. Her service gun was stored in a small safe on the dresser. She slowly clicked the safe open, and removed her gun, removed the safety.
She moved to the open door and Rusty followed.
"No," she whispered, placing her hand on his chest. "I can't let anything happen to you. Get my phone, it's on the nightstand. Call Lieutenant Provenza." She paused. "If something happens to me, get out. Understand?" She watched his pale face until he nodded. "Wait here." She swallowed and smiled tightly. "Don't worry."
She glanced at him one more time and crept out into the hallway. For once she was glad of the summer heat. The fan in the living room disguised any noise her nightgown made as it swished past her knees. She clung to the side of the hallway and peered into the darkened main room. Light from the streets and skies outside illuminated the room in ghostly grays. She couldn't see movement, but she took the corner sharply anyways, swinging around to stand near the dining table as she swung her gun in a semi-circle.
Suddenly, there was a soft pop. Sharon dropped to the ground, leaping to conclude "gun" even before she landed. She knelt on the carpet, forcing herself to breathe silently as she realized the refrigerator had opened.
Blue-white light spilled out of the kitchen. Now that she was out of the hallway, she could hear the soft noises of plates and cutlery.
What the hell? she thought. Who the hell makes a sandwich before a hit? The next thought sprung to her mind, unbidden. A professional. He's going to arrange a scene, try to throw everyone on the wrong track.
She took another deep breath and then crept forward on hands and knees past the island that divided kitchen from living room. When she reached the edge of the fridge's light, she stopped, lifted her gun and peeked around the edge again. She couldn't see much from her low angle, but the fridge door was mostly open and her ears told her the intruder was on the other side of the kitchen, rummaging through her plates.
She slowly moved up to the side of the island and began to stand. Dear God, protect me. In a half-crouch she moved behind the fridge into the shadows again. She waited for a few seconds, trying to let her eyes adjust to the darkness after the light. The element of surprise is essential.
She stood fully and kicked the fridge door shut with a force that surprised her, screaming "LAPD! Drop your weapon! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!" She advanced on a large silhouette, eyes unable to define a face as the man's hands flew up. She held her ground as he stepped forward. "STOP! Get on your knees, now!" She was breathing hard and she knew that everyone on the floors above and below had probably heard her. Good. They'll be able to corroborate times when Provenza gets here. The man slowly got to his knees. "Now put your hands on your head." He did so slowly, and then spoke.
"Jesus Christ, Sharon! They can probably hear you on every damn floor!"
Her mouth dropped, but her gun didn't. "What the hell are you doing here? I nearly shot you!"
"Sharon? Are you okay?" Rusty called anxiously. When she didn't respond, he charged out of the hall, a lamp in hand.
Wherever did he find that? she thought absently. "Rusty, could you please get the lights?"
He flicked them on and then came to stand at her shoulder again. "Sharon, who is this?"
Ice water ran through her veins. The letters. Threats, plural. She should have insisted upon more security when Pope refused. She fumbled for her glasses and gently pushed Rusty back a step.
"Rusty, you wait right here." She slid the covers back silently and crept out of bed, slowly prowling across her room. Her service gun was stored in a small safe on the dresser. She slowly clicked the safe open, and removed her gun, removed the safety.
She moved to the open door and Rusty followed.
"No," she whispered, placing her hand on his chest. "I can't let anything happen to you. Get my phone, it's on the nightstand. Call Lieutenant Provenza." She paused. "If something happens to me, get out. Understand?" She watched his pale face until he nodded. "Wait here." She swallowed and smiled tightly. "Don't worry."
She glanced at him one more time and crept out into the hallway. For once she was glad of the summer heat. The fan in the living room disguised any noise her nightgown made as it swished past her knees. She clung to the side of the hallway and peered into the darkened main room. Light from the streets and skies outside illuminated the room in ghostly grays. She couldn't see movement, but she took the corner sharply anyways, swinging around to stand near the dining table as she swung her gun in a semi-circle.
Suddenly, there was a soft pop. Sharon dropped to the ground, leaping to conclude "gun" even before she landed. She knelt on the carpet, forcing herself to breathe silently as she realized the refrigerator had opened.
Blue-white light spilled out of the kitchen. Now that she was out of the hallway, she could hear the soft noises of plates and cutlery.
What the hell? she thought. Who the hell makes a sandwich before a hit? The next thought sprung to her mind, unbidden. A professional. He's going to arrange a scene, try to throw everyone on the wrong track.
She took another deep breath and then crept forward on hands and knees past the island that divided kitchen from living room. When she reached the edge of the fridge's light, she stopped, lifted her gun and peeked around the edge again. She couldn't see much from her low angle, but the fridge door was mostly open and her ears told her the intruder was on the other side of the kitchen, rummaging through her plates.
She slowly moved up to the side of the island and began to stand. Dear God, protect me. In a half-crouch she moved behind the fridge into the shadows again. She waited for a few seconds, trying to let her eyes adjust to the darkness after the light. The element of surprise is essential.
She stood fully and kicked the fridge door shut with a force that surprised her, screaming "LAPD! Drop your weapon! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!" She advanced on a large silhouette, eyes unable to define a face as the man's hands flew up. She held her ground as he stepped forward. "STOP! Get on your knees, now!" She was breathing hard and she knew that everyone on the floors above and below had probably heard her. Good. They'll be able to corroborate times when Provenza gets here. The man slowly got to his knees. "Now put your hands on your head." He did so slowly, and then spoke.
"Jesus Christ, Sharon! They can probably hear you on every damn floor!"
Her mouth dropped, but her gun didn't. "What the hell are you doing here? I nearly shot you!"
"Sharon? Are you okay?" Rusty called anxiously. When she didn't respond, he charged out of the hall, a lamp in hand.
Wherever did he find that? she thought absently. "Rusty, could you please get the lights?"
He flicked them on and then came to stand at her shoulder again. "Sharon, who is this?"
She gave the man her best Darth Raydor glare, never looking away as she slapped the safety back on and crossed her arms over her nightgown.
The man stepped forwards and grinned. "Jackson Raydor, Jack. I'm Sharon's husband."
Rusty's mouth dropped. "Sharon, you didn't say-"
"I didn't tell you he was coming because I didn't know," she said icily as Jack laughed.
"I bet she told you the whole separation was very Catholic, didn't she?" Jack replied. "Look, Shar-"
"Not now, Jack. Right now I'm going to call the building manager and let him know that no one died in here, so he can field all the calls from everyone we just woke up." She took her phone from Rusty's outstretched hand and then disappeared into the hall.
"Same old Sharon," Jack quipped.
Rusty flashed Jack a small smile and then hurried after Sharon. He found her in her bedroom, wrapping up her conversation with the manager in a calm voice. "Yes, Mr. Swanders. Yes, I'm sure. Everything is fine. No, no need to call the police. I work for the LAPD, yes. I'm sorry. Thank you." She turned back to Rusty and set the phone down before hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."
"Sharon, it's fine."
"No, it's not. I'll get it sorted out though, because you need to go back to bed."
"What?" Rusty sputtered. "Come on, Sharon."
"No, Rusty," she said gently. "You have school in the morning. Did you call Lietenant Provenza?"
"No, sorry."
"That's fine. We don't need him now anyways." She smiled and pushed Rusty towards his room. "Bed."
He rolled his eyes. "Fine."
She raised her eyebrows. "Fine? You're giving in so easily?" she teased.
"I expect all the details in the morning." Rusty hugged her again and left her.
Sharon laughed and waited until the boy's door closed before turning away and putting her gun back in the safe. She locked it, then picked up her robe from its peg on the door, wrapping it tightly about herself and knotting the sash. She then walked back out to the kitchen.
Jack was sitting at the island with his sandwich. There was a steaming mug of tea set before the chair next to him. Sharon pulled the chair out and sat in it, ignoring the tea. "Why are you here, Jack?"
"I caught a case in town, and I thought I'd stay here tonight, seeing as my plane came in so late."
"How did you get in? I don't recall having given you a key."
"I have my sources, Shar."
"Jack..."
"I may have picked your lock," he said airily, taking a bite of his sandwich.
Sharon stared at him, in a loss of words. "Do you know how many different charges I could arrest you on, right now?" she asked softly.
"I know each and every one, love."
"You need to leave, now, and find a hotel. There are several within a mile radius of here. They're all open and I'm sure you could find a room."
Jack leaned back, a frown coming over his face. "I seem to recall you have a guest room here. Can't you put your husband up for a night?"
"No, I can't. Rusty is living in the spare room; it's his now and I won't make him move to the sofa."
"Why is he living here, anyways?"
Sharon crossed her arms again. "That's none of your business, but as of the moment, I am his legal guardian."
Jack held up his hands apologetically. "Okay. No need to bite my head off. Look, Shar, I'm tired. I just flew in from New York, and I admit, I was hoping you'd be a little more welcoming, maybe let me stay the night until I get over the time change."
"You broke into my house in the middle of the night, never called ahead of time, and then started clattering around in the kitchen. I thought-" she stopped. "Nevermind."
"Was the almighty Sergeant Sharon Raydor scared, for once in her life?" he grinned.
"I was concerned about Rusty's safety, yes. And it's not 'sergeant' anymore, Jack. You're behind the times." She watched him for a moment. "You may spend the night, but I expect you to find a hotel tomorrow. When you go to bed, put your dish in the sink and turn off the lights." She shoved her chair back and left the room.
Jack hurried after her, flicking the lights off as he went. When he caught up to her, she was already back in her room. She saw him and shook her head. "No. You're sleeping on the sofa."
"Shar, come on. It's perfectly normal for two married people to sleep in the same bed."
"Not when they've been separated for twenty-odd years. Blankets are in the hall closet. Good night." she smiled politely and shut the door in his face.
<><><><>
The next morning, Sharon turned her alarm clock off and lay in the silence, praying that maybe it was all a dream. She knew it wasn't, though, so she resignedly threw the covers back and got ready for her day. Hair and make-up first, followed by a conservative black dress she hadn't worn in a while. Matching black heels and a light, white jacket. She collected her phone, gun, badge, and glasses, threw them all in her bag and walked out to the kitchen.
Rusty was sitting at the dining table. He turned to greet her and looked somewhat surprised that she was already wearing her shoes and jacket.
"Good morning, Rusty."
"Hey. I thought I'd get up early, but uh..." he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Your husband is in the kitchen making breakfast," he finished quietly.
"Ah." She raised her eyebrows and crossed over to the kitchen island. "Jack? What are you doing?"
"Good morning to you too, dear." He turned, frying pan in hand. "Pancakes. Do you want some?" He proceeded to flip a few off the pan and onto a plate full of pancakes, before turning the stove off and setting dishes down on the island. He was still wearing the same shirt as before, even though Sharon had noticed a suitcase in the hall. He'd probably wait until she was gone before taking a shower and changing clothes, she thought.
Rusty glanced at Sharon, as if asking to get breakfast.
She smiled at him and nodded almost imperceptibly towards the pancakes. Rusty slid past her and hopped on to a chair, reaching for a plate as he went. Sharon stepped into the kitchen and began brewing her morning coffee.
"Want some food, Shar?"
"No, I've got an autopsy to attend this morning. I'd rather not eat right now," she said coolly. It was true, she did have an appointment with Dr. Morales, but it had never stopped her from getting breakfast before. She had left some Chobani in the fridge at work; she'd eat that later.
"Suit yourself."
Breakfast was an awkward affair. Sharon had to admit, Jack tried valiantly to save the conversation by chattering with Rusty. He asked about school, friends, chess, did Rusty have a job, Sharon's job, the major crimes squad, what Rusty did on his downtime. Finally, it was time to leave.
Sharon set her mug down with more force than she intended and stood up. "Time to go, Rusty." She gathered her bag from the table, checked her phone, picked up her keys from the glass bowl they rested in. Rusty was on his way out the door, but Sharon paused to look back at Jack.
"Don't forget to get a hotel."
"Sharon-"
"No, Jack. There isn't a place for you hear any more."
"I'll call you later. Can I have your cell number?"
"No, you may not. If you need me, call the LAPD, ask for Major Crimes, and ask for their captain."
Jack looked surprised. "When did you get promoted?"
Sharon shrugged. "A while back." She turned. "'Bye, Jack."
"Have a good day at work, love."
She laughed as she shut the door behind her.
Rusty was waiting in the hall. As they made their way down to her car he questioned her about Jack.
"Is he really your husband?"
"Yes, Rusty. I've told you before that I was married."
"Yeah, but... I guess I've never seen his picture. You don't keep any around."
"Nope."
"Why is he here?"
"He caught a case here, in LA, and he flew in last night. He thought he'd spend the night here before finding a hotel."
Rusty eyed her carefully, but she kept her face straight, and, after a moment, he seemed to accept her statement.
She switched subjects. "I'll drop you off at school and a patrol car will come pick you up again. If you want to bring Chris that's fine, too." She smiled. "Call me if you need anything."
"Sure."
When they finally reached St. Joseph's, Sharon leaned over the driving console and hugged Rusty tightly. He seemed surprised, and when he reached for the car door handle he paused. "Thanks for last night, you know, the whole kicking down doors with a gun thing. People don't usually do that for me."
"Oh, Rusty," Sharon sighed. "Don't worry about it. Anyone on the squad would do it for you. You're a good kid." She grinned and added "Even Brenda would have done so, in her heels and skirts. She can be pretty ferocious."
Rusty laughed and jumped out of the car. "See you later."
"See you." Sharon waited until he got inside, then pulled away. In another eight hours, she and Rusty would be home, alone, making dinner and maybe even watching a movie. Without Jack. She drove towards the station, eyes on the road, and mind in the clouds.
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