......

Rusty had arrived home to Sharon's condo after chess club practice (The club continued to practice over winter break.) and a meeting with Dr. Joe, escorted to the doorstep by his goon platoon, as he called them. He called his cops that once, while talking to Sharon, and she had expressly told him not to call them that. Aloud, anyways. He still called them that in his head.

They left after Sharon opened the door, and he walked into the apartment to find himself nearly knocked over by the smell of lemon.

"I didn't realize you decided to start a lemon grove in here," he said, dropping his backpack near the door.




"Ah," Sharon pointed to the bag. "In your room please." It was the first time he'd seen her all day. She'd left before he'd awoken in the morning, off to some crime scene. She was wearing loose, straight-legged jeans and a teal popover, a rather rare deviation from her power suits.

Rusty moaned, but took the bag away and kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket over his bed. His room was the one place Sharon let be messy. Usually. He walked back to the living room and flopped over the sofa to watch Sharon as she cleaned the dining table with a yellow rag and foaming wood polish. They had gone hunting for a Christmas tree the day before, and it now stood near the window, branches bare but for the lights and angels she had hung the night before, with a tidy skirt around the bottom.

"What are you doing?" Rusty finally asked.

"Cleaning."

"I can see that, Captain Obvious," he replied, smiling as the corner of her mouth quirked up. "Why?"

She looked up sharply. "Did I not tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Rusty lay back on the sofa, thinking about the last chess game with Dr. Joe. The psychiatrist had beaten Rusty with a tactic he'd called a "windmill attack." Rusty had been pinned in the corner, and fully intended to ask about it at his next chess practice.

"My kids are both coming tonight for the holidays," she said calmly.

"What!" Rusty sat bolt upright, the couch quivering with the sudden movement.

"I didn't tell you?"

"No!" He watched her face, and it was deceptively blank. She'd planned this. "You didn't tell me on purpose, didn't you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that?" She looked down and rubbed the table with the rag.

"Sharon. . ."

"Rusty."

He sat there, watching her finish with the table and move onto the chairs, her desk, bookshelves, and finally the coffee table near the sofa. She slowly got down on her knees to start scrubbing the table, and he could hear her sigh faintly.

"Long day?" he finally said.

"I got my exercise in, that's for sure."

"Did everything go okay?" He knew she was primarily an administrator, but he still worried, about her and the team.

"Yes." She looked up and smiled. "Yes, nothing bad, just a lot of running."

"Oh. Good, I guess." He watched her a moment more. "Sharon, why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't look up. "How did your finals go?"

Rusty frowned. His report card had come in the mail a few days before, as Sharon well knew. He had done well, passing everything with As and a single B. "Sharon-"

"Rusty," she said firmly. "Just answer me."

"I did fine," he replied, scowling.

"You did more than fine." She sat back on her heels to face him. "Ricky and Hannah told me two weeks ago that they were coming, but you had finals coming up, and I wanted you to fully concentrate on them."

"Oh." That wasn't what he was expecting. "But it's been days since then. And they're coming tonight!" The full realization hit him suddenly. "Sharon! They're coming tonight and I don't know anything about them and what if they don't like me? Do they even know I live here? Maybe I should-"

"Rusty," she said firmly, getting up to sit with him. She wrapped an arm over his shoulder and leaned back, pulling him with her. "Rusty, they both know you live here. I do call them from time to time. They are perfectly fine with it. I think, personally, you will all get along fabulously. It's nothing to worry about. Ricky plays chess, but Hannah's more of a backgammon girl."

Rusty watched her from the corner of his eye. "And?"

Sharon kicked her feet up on the table she'd just polished. "What would you like to know?"

"Uh, everything?" He replied sharply.

She laughed. "That would take a while. Let's see, though. I can tell you a few things fairly quickly. Ricky is twenty-five and currently living in Montana. He's into biology and works with the park service there. I don't know how he got on that track, but he likes it, so I can't complain." She snorted quietly. "Red Lodge, Montana. I honestly have no idea how he decided he would live there."

"And Hannah?" Rusty prompted after a moment.

"Hannah is twenty-three, and she lives in New York City. She dances with the American Ballet Theatre." Sharon smiled happily.

"That's pretty good, right?" Rusty asked. He knew next to nothing about ballet. Sharon had all those prints on her wall, and a bunch of dance books, but it wasn't like he read them or anything.

"Yes. It is," she replied. "I worry about her being in New York City, but she's smart and she wants to dance. I think my mother is pleased Hannah dances professionally. She'd hoped I would, but then I ended up joining the police."

"You danced?" Rusty didn't know why he was so surprised.

Sharon smirked at him. "I still do. There's a class I go to, when I have a free Saturday morning."

She'd been with him every weekend since she'd learned about the letters. "If you want to go sometime, I'll go with you and just read a book in the corner or something." He felt like he was holding her back sometimes, even though she insisted he wasn't.

She looked surprised. "Thank you, Rusty. I'll consider it." She was silent for a minute before resuming the previous conversation. "Anyways, about Hannah. She's planning to dance with the Theatre for the foreseeable future, then retire and teach kids out here, maybe."

"What else?"

"What else?" she repeated.

"What else do they do? What are they like?"

Sharon laughed. "I suppose I'm a bit bias, but I like to think they are both sweet, caring, responsible, young people. Ricky is outdoorsy, and seems to enjoy small town life. I think he said something about guiding river-rafting trips and joining the ski patrol. I guess the town he lives in has a ski resort or something. Hannah is very. . ." She paused and looked at Rusty. Her eyes darkened as thought about something, then cleared so quickly he wondered if he was imagining things. "She's very independent-minded. She will do whatever she likes. There was a summer where she tried almost every church in town. One year, just before her birthday, she dyed her hair with kool-aid, and it wouldn't come out. She had greenish hair at her high-school graduation.  I think she's currently vegan, but I'm not sure. That might have been over Thanksgiving." She stared into space for a moment, then sat up. "I ought to finish cleaning up."

Rusty laughed. "Sharon, this place is cleaner than a hospital." It was true. There wasn't a crooked picture, streak on a window, dust, crumbs, or dirty dishes to be seen. There was only the strong scent of lemon cleaner and the boxes of Christmas ornaments and decorations she'd unpacked from somewhere.

"Let me just finish vacuuming," she said absently.

Rusty sighed and got up to go to his room. He knew that once Sharon had her mind set, nothing would stop her. He could at least try to master the windmill thing. He snagged Sharon's laptop from her desk and ducked into his room, snapping the door shut.

It was a solid forty-five minutes later that the condo was quiet once again. Rusty peeked out into the hallway to see if Sharon was truly done with her maniacal cleaning. He watched her carry the vacuum back to the closet and put the cleaning supplies away before he dared come out into the open.

"Sharon?"

"Yes?" she answered, unpacking her purse on her desk.

"What's for dinner?"

"There's kielbasa and potatoes au gratin with vegetables in the fridge. I just need to heat it up. I made it earlier."

"I can get it." Rusty walked to the kitchen and found a large tupperware of said dish in the fridge. He collected two bowls and scooped food into them, then slid them both into the microwave. "When are your kids coming?"

She joined him in the kitchen, stretching her arms. "They'll be here around nine. By some minor miracle, their flights come in at the same time. They said they'd call when they came in."

The microwave dinged, and Rusty handed Sharon a bowl and a fork. They ate quietly, each absorbed in thought. When they finished, Sharon collected the dishes and washed them in the sink before setting them in the drainer. She then poured herself a glass of wine and handed Rusty a soda from the fridge. He stared at her in surprise. She never bought soda.

"Like you said," she smiled. "You did well on your finals. It does call for some celebration. What do you say to a movie? Your pick. It's only six-thirty, so we've plenty of time."

"Sure." Rusty grinned. He knew Sharon didn't like food outside the kitchen, but she was evidently feeling generous. "Can we have popcorn?" It was probably some organic, 98% fat-free, low-sodium kind, but he didn't care.

She snorted. "Don't you dare spill. Go find a movie. I'll make popcorn."

He ran out to the living room, set the soda on a coaster on the table, and opened the small cabinet under the television. Sharon had a humble collection of films, mostly documentaries, ballet, and foreign mystery shows. Over the months, more and more of Rusty's movies made their way onto Sharon's shelf. There was now a healthy smattering of action and science-fiction. He pulled a few out and set them on the table.

Sharon came out a few minutes later with the popcorn and her wine.

"Pick," Rusty said, waving a hand at the videos. He flopped down on the sofa, grabbing a handful of popcorn. To his surprise, it was seasoned with Ranch. Not bad, he thought.

Sharon set her wine down, and sat on the edge of the sofa to examine the movies. "The Dark Knight Rises. Skyfall. Star Trek. Prometheus. The Waters of Mars. I think I'll go with Skyfall."

"Sure." Rusty hopped up to start the movie. He turned the lights off as Adele's voice rolled through the speakers, and sat back with Sharon. She had grabbed a blanket and leaned against his shoulder.

Rusty hardly noticed the room get darker as the sun set. In his opinion, you could never watch James Bond too much, and each time was as good as the first. He looked down at Sharon as the credits started rolling, and found she had fallen asleep. He slowly eased himself away from her and settled a pillow in his place. She shifted slightly, but didn't wake.

Rusty snorted in amusement, then checked her phone for the time. It was eight-forty, there were no messages, no missed calls or voicemails to indicate anything about her kids' arrival. He shrugged and knelt next to the television to start another movie. Nothing he'd pulled earlier looked appealing now, so he rummaged through Sharon's shelves, finally taking out season five of Doctor Who. Why someone would have one season from the middle of a show, he didn't know. He skimmed the episode descriptions then started The Time of the Angels and settled back on the sofa with Sharon.

River Song had just escaped via an airlock when Rusty heard someone rattling Sharon's front door. He froze and turned to glance at Sharon. She was still asleep. He shook her shoulder gently as muffled voices came from behind the door.

"Sharon?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Sharon, there's someone-"

She sat up, wide awake just as the door swung open and two dark shadows stumbled through the doorway. Sharon held Rusty behind her with one arm, and then the trespassers began arguing with each other.

"Ricky, I had the door, you didn't-"

"I tripped with all your baggage, Han." Ricky Raydor ruffled his sister's hair affectionately and she rolled her eyes. Her teeth flashed in the moonlight though, and Rusty could tell she was smiling, not truly annoyed.

Sharon hurried over to them and hugged them tightly. "I thought you were going to call!"

"It's faster just to take a taxi," Hannah said. "Besides, we thought we could get in."

Sharon flushed slightly. "I never got your new keys mailed when I changed the locks. I'm sorry. But how-"

"Hannah picked up some tricks in the city," Ricky replied, laughing. "She did it to my place, too, when she came over at Thanksgiving."

"Hannah Jane-"

Hannah giggled. "Sammy taught me how to pick locks." She caught her mother's appalled expression and laughed even harder. "Don't worry, though, I've only done it to Ricky and you. I am well versed in all the potential legal ramifications," she said, perfectly mimicking her mother's voice. She peered past Sharon. "Are you Rusty?"

Rusty stood slowly. Despite Sharon's assurances, he still was wary. "Yeah," he mumbled quietly.

"And you watch Doctor Who?"

Rusty glanced back to where Amy was currently staring down a televised stone angel, but Hannah kept going.

"That's fantastic! Lizzy and Tia don't- they're my roommates- and Mum doesn't, even though I tried to get her to, and Ricky-" she turned to her brother. "Have you tried it, yet?"

"Nope," he said brightly. "You seem to forget that I don't own a TV, Hannah."

"Oh, dammit," she sighed.

Rusty was surprised. Sharon had caught the lights, and now he could see everyone clearly. Hannah took after her father somewhat, towheaded with clear blue eyes, but tall and gangly. She was dressed in leggings and a long, pink parka, which she was currently shedding over a chair. Ricky was only a few inches taller than his sister with a strong build and the same complexion as his mother. He was wearing a thick knit hat with a buffalo on it, dusty jeans, boots, and a faded tee under a loose plaid flannel shirt. He looked every inch the biologist Sharon had said.

"Rusty," Ricky said. "It's nice to finally meet you. Mom talks about you a lot."

"Thanks," Rusty replied. He looked down, feeling his face heat up. He hadn't realized Sharon had told her kids about him, even though it did make sense.

Ricky seemed to see that Rusty wasn't sure what to say, so he switched subjects. "Do you have any food, Mom? I didn't have a layover in Denver."

"Sure," Sharon said. "What do you want?"She flashed Rusty a smile, as though to say See? It's not so bad. She led the way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "Han, are you still vegan?"

"No," her daughter replied hastily. She kicked one foot up on the counter and began stretching her legs. "No, that lasted until Ricky brought out some cheese and crackers at Thanksgiving. I could skip the turkey, but cheddar cheese, sweet Jesus, I love me some cheese."

"Language, honey."

Rusty smiled as he sat at one of the tall island chairs. So far the experience hadn't been as traumatic as he'd expected. Hannah seemed to be Sharon's direct opposite, outgoing and speaking a million words a minute. Ricky was quieter, and seemed content to listen to his sister talk about dance, food, and everything else that seemed to cross her mind. It was a little weird to have two completely new people in her small condo, a little more weird to listen to them calling her "mom," but at least they were nice.

"Rusty, do you want anything?" Sharon's voice called him out of his reverie.

"No, I'm good." He looked at what Sharon had pulled out. The potatoes and kielbasa from their dinner,  a bag of salad, bread from the cabinet. Ricky took a plate and began loading it up, but Hannah merely looked over the offerings with a pensive expression. Rusty watched curiously as she dove into Sharon's fridge and came up with a flour tortilla and a bag of chocolate chips.

"Oh, Hannah, you aren't-" Sharon started looking horrified.

"Mom." Hannah ran back to her pile of bags and rooted around through the smallest one, before pulling  out a jar of marshmallow fluff.

Sharon closed her eyes and sat on a stool next to Rusty, head in hands. He grinned at her. "See? It's not that weird."

"I will not buy it for you," Sharon replied, without looking up. "I have to draw the line somewhere."

Hannah giggled again as she spread a thick layer of fluff on the tortilla and scattered chocolate chips over it. She rolled it up and poured hot water out of the kettle, into an assortment of mugs. She dropped tea bags into all four and passed them around.

"What's on the schedule for tomorrow?" Ricky asked, sitting at the table.

Sharon shrugged. "It's up to you, really. I was hoping you might finish decorating the tree, as I, unfortunately, am not getting the day off. We still have the paperwork from today to finish, but it shouldn't last too long." She looked at Rusty thoughtfully. "I suppose, Rusty, if you wanted to stay with Hannah and Ricky, you could."

"Without Aberzombie and Bi-"

"Yes." She cut him off and pursed her lips slightly. "Those officers didn't ask for the job, honey."

Rusty shrugged. "Yeah, I know." He glanced down and then back at her. "But it's still fun to make up names just to see your face."

Sharon's mouth dropped slightly, then she tried not to smile. Hannah howled with laughter.

"I've been telling you that for years, Mom. People like to try cracking your poker face."

Ricky snorted and turned to Rusty. "Mom's been telling us about you, and all the names you have for your. . ." he paused. "Personal cops? Bodyguards? Whatever, but I'm liking Kirk and Spock the best."

Maybe Sharon's kids wouldn't be so bad. "Thanks."

They sat in a comfortable silence, sipping their tea, until Sharon's phone rang, somewhere in the other room. She leaped up to get it with an apologetic look. It was under a blanket, and she answered after a moment of searching.

"Lieutenant Provenza."

"Sorry to call you back out, Captain," he said gruffly. "But we got another case."

Sharon sighed. "Where?"

He read her the address. "I'm there with Flynn, Buzz, and Sykes. Sanchez and Tao are on the way."

"Thank you, I'll be there-" she glanced at the clock on the wall. "In twenty minutes. My kids just got in,  so-"

"Darth Raydor, Luke, and Leia," he said cheekily. There was muffled laughter in the background, and Sharon could picture Provenza looking pleased with his own joke. She could tell that, for once, "Darth Raydor" wasn't derogative.

She chuckled slightly. "The whole Skywalker family. I'll see you soon."

"The whole Skywalker family?" Ricky repeated curiously.

"Darth Raydor? I'm sure you haven't forgot that one. I thought you and Hannah were both going to die of asphyxiation when I told you."

Hannah giggled. "It never gets old." She lowered her voice and grumbled "Ricky, I am your mother."

Rusty laughed.

Sharon snorted, shaking her head. "I'm afraid I have to leave, but with any luck I'll be back soon." She started gathering her bag, badge, gun, and coat. "Don't stay up too late. There's blankets in the hall closet, and-"

"We've been here before, Mom. Don't worry," Hannah said.

"That's my job," Sharon replied. She kissed them all on the head before leaving.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the condo was silent again.

"Well, Rusty," Ricky finally said. "You wanna start a that Doctor Who marathon? I haven't watched TV in ages."

"Sure," Rusty said, slightly surprised.

"Great!" Hannah carried her dinner out to the living room. "Does anyone else want pizza? Because, honestly, one tortilla isn't going to hold me, and I'm not sure I even want to know what Mom has in her fridge."

"Pasta, chicken, and salad. Maybe some apples," Rusty told her.

"No, no, definitely not. I eat enough of that in New York." She caught Rusty's look. "Dancing is my full-time career while I'm out there, so I try to eat a little better than marshmallow fluff and pizza. Get a little protein and some vitamins."

Ricky snorted. "She's a complete land-shark. Don't let her tell you any different. Now let's order some food and get started."
____________

Sharon crept into her home a little after two in the morning. She had seen that all the lights were off from the street, so she assumed they were all asleep. She set her bag next to the hall table, kicked her heels off near the bag, and hung her coat over one of the pegs on the wall, before slipping around the corner into the living room.

The television was still on, quietly playing the Doctor Who theme and washing the room with blue light. The Christmas tree was still lit up, and had been covered in decorations. She could tell everyone's work apart. Rusty and Ricky had neatly hung ornaments, and then Hannah, in her typical fashion, had swathed the tree and much of the room with tinsel.

She walked over and switched the TV off, and looked at her kids by the light of the tree. There was an empty box of pizza and a half-finished one on the table with several plates and glasses. Hannah was sprawled across the sofa, under an afghan, one leg dangling over the armrest. Ricky and Rusty had both fallen asleep on the floor, propped up against the sofa in a mess of blankets and pillows.

For a minute, she debated waking them and sending them to bed, but something stopped her. They all looked so peaceful. She smiled to herself, stepped over her son to unplug the Christmas lights, and started down the hall to her room.

"Mom?" came a sleepy voice.

"Yes, Ricky?" she replied quietly.

"Did you just get in?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." There was a pause; he was still half-asleep. "Good night."

"'Night, honey." She changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and was about to get into bed when she paused again. Without a second thought, she grabbed her pillow and comforter and rejoined the rest of the Skywalker family, as Provenza had dubbed them. There was a space on the carpet between Ricky and the chair, so she settled herself there, and with a last look around, fell asleep.