Fic: Heart on the Line (Raydor/Hobbs)
Title: Heart on the Line
Rating: T
Word count: 2500
Pairing: Raydor♥Hobbs
Summary: When Sharon gets hurt in the line of duty, Andrea faces her past...and her future.
A/N: Written for defyingnormalcy’s birthday. Thanks for all the great prompts, hon. :) I hope you have a wonderful day. Thanks to newnumbertwo for her beta.
Andrea looked doubtfully at the bunch of daisies she held in her shaking hand and sighed as the elevator surged upward. She hadn’t been at UCLA Medical Center since she’d come to visit her ex in the maternity ward three years earlier.
Regina had looked so serene, a blissful expression on her face that was totally foreign to Andrea. Seeing the way she held baby Max in her arms had just served to validate their breakup. Regina had wanted to start a family, Andrea hadn’t. Regina loved that baby more than she ever could have loved Andrea.
She had feared that she’d be lonely after Regina left, but then Sharon Raydor had waltzed into the Major Crimes murder room and brought a discipline with her the unit had been lacking. Andrea had at first viewed the Captain just as a law-and-order ally in an otherwise undisciplined camp. Okay, that and a great set of legs, too. Then on the day when Andrea got shot in the arm, Raydor had earned some notoriety of her own for her brilliant bean-bag marksmanship, a criminal defense attorney went to jail, and a friendship was born. That friendship blossomed into a relationship after Sharon was assigned to head Major Crimes, and now, even with Andrea’s hectic schedule and Sharon’s responsibility for her foster son, they had been dating for nearly a year.
It hadn’t always been easy, especially once they got to the point where it was hard to keep the relationship under wraps while at work. But they’d gotten through that (the culture in the murder room really had come a long way since Brenda Leigh Johnson had first arrived, she had to admit--even Provenza had been supportive, though he quipped to Andrea that she had questionable taste). They’d gotten through the DA’s reassignment of the Stroh case to Rios once the DA found out about the conflict (one of several that the obnoxious neophyte DDA constantly liked to bring up). And Andrea had become genuinely fond of the young man who shared Sharon’s home and demanded her attentions. The kid had such a tough road, it was impossible to harbor any of the resentment or jealousy she’d felt when her ex had first expressed her desire to parent a child.
But this...could she be strong enough to handle it?
The elevator stopped and Andrea took a deep breath, steeling herself to face the hallway of recovery rooms.
It’s just a concussion and some cracked ribs, she reminded herself, trying to push the fear aside. She’s going to be fine. You need to be strong.
“I can’t,” Andrea muttered under her breath. Getting too close to someone meant getting hurt when they left. Whether they chose to, like Regina-- or not.
She’d had lovers leave. She’d seen police officers killed in the line of duty.
What she hadn’t experienced before getting the call from Flynn a few hours earlier was the connection between the two.
The nauseous feeling in her stomach returned as she walked down the depressing taupe fluorescent-lighted hall and thought back to that fateful call.
”Andrea, it’s Flynn. Look...the Captain’s been hurt. Crime scene wasn’t properly secured, shots were fired.”
“No, no, please..”
“She wasn’t hit, Andrea, but she took a hell of a thumping when the officer took her down for cover. She’s in surgery at UCLA Med Center. I thought you should know.”
The nurses hadn’t wanted to tell her anything. She’d gotten more information about Sharon’s condition after explaining that she was an Assistant District Attorney involved with the case than she did by identifying herself as Sharon’s friend. She tried working for a few hours, knowing Sharon was still in surgery. Thoughts of her lover, shot and bleeding, her green eyes lifeless and glassy, dominated her thoughts, and it was impossible to concentrate on her cases. Thank goodness she didn’t have any court appearances to get through. Finally she gave up any pretense of work, which was how she’d ended up here.
At last she came to room 2112. The door was open, and she looked in, waiting at the doorway.
Sharon was asleep: her eyes closed, her head bandaged, an IV attached at the crook of her elbow.
Rusty looked up from the chair in the corner of the room, from Andrea to Sharon, and got up. “Hey, Andrea. I’m, uh, gonna go get something to eat.” He gave Andrea an awkward nod as he walked past her and into the hallway. He looked back after a moment and saw that Andrea still hadn’t entered the room. “She’ll be awake soon, Andrea, and she’ll want to see you.”
She smiled. Rusty seemed fine, and he cared about Sharon as much as she did. Maybe things would be all right. “Thanks, Rusty.”
Andrea steeled herself and walked into the room, pulling the door nearly closed behind her. She approached the side of the bed, trying to focus more on the strong steady beeping of the heart monitor instead of the sight of her lover, unconscious and bruised.
As she got closer and leaned over Sharon, she saw no sign of Sharon’s thick chestnut tresses beneath the bandages covering her crown. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, setting the stupid daisies down on the bedside table. “They shaved your head.”
She was sure Sharon would be just as beautiful as ever, even without her magnificent coif. But it would be a long-term reminder of what could have happened.
What could have happened... What a euphemism. Andrea had been a prosecutor for over twenty years. She knew exactly what kind of things could happen-- even to high-ranking police officers.
Especially to them. Sharon was no desk jockey. She still went out to crime scenes despite her “promotion.”
Why had she gotten called in, anyway? Andrea tried to remember if Sharon had said anything before they’d parted the previous evening after a quiet dinner at their favorite Italian place. They’d lingered over mint sorbet and chocolate gelato, trading spoonfuls of each, exchanging playful glances before Sharon had regretfully pushed her bowl away and announced that she needed to get home and make sure Rusty had finished his homework before it got too much later. They’d exchanged some brief, sweet kisses in the parking lot as they said goodbye and headed off to their respective homes. Sharon hadn’t said anything about an open investigation...
Andrea pulled Rusty’s chair closer to the bedside and settled in, reaching out to cover Sharon’s hand with her own. She’d just have to wait for Sharon to wake up to get the whole story.
The bottom of her stomach dropped out again as she allowed herself to finally catalogue Sharon’s delicate features. Deep purple-gold bruises surrounded both of her eyes; even the eyelids were discolored. There was a tiny speck of blood at the corner of her mouth, just below her bottom lip.
Am I strong enough for this? To be here for her? Andrea wondered, taking in the scrapes on Sharon’s palms and inner forearms.
When Andrea had been shot, she was single. Her fellow DDAs were sympathetic and a little impressed; her brother out in Orange County took the news in stride and offered to take her to the gun range once her arm got better to work on her self-defense. It was just a glancing blow to the side of her upper arm, not even through-and-through. But she’d been alone; no one had been scared for her once she got bandaged up and the psychic trauma of having been assaulted set in.
Not like she was scared for Sharon now.
“Why couldn’t I have fallen for a nice safe schoolteacher?” Andrea said out loud. Her ex was an artist who worked mostly in blown glass; she could spend hours a day within the relative safety of her fireproofed studio. She’d never had much interest in Andrea’s work, barely understood what exactly it was that she did. Sharon was entirely different.
I understand her work, like she understands mine. It was a huge part of why their relationship worked. There was a physical attraction, but also a mutual respect, a professional courtesy that had served as the basis for so much more.
I want there to be more, Andrea admitted to herself. More than quiet dinners together and occasional sleep-overs when Rusty was invited to a friend’s. I want to be here for her, now.
Wake up, Sharon. Andrea pulled the chair even closer then leaned back, watching the rise and fall of Sharon’s chest.
Within a few minutes, Sharon’s eyes fluttered open. “An-die?” she croaked, and Andrea sprung to her feet, hovering over Sharon.
“I’m here, love,” she said, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Sharon moved to sit up, then whimpered and brought her hand up to her chest. “Hurts.”
“I know, sweet. You’re going to be okay.” Andrea placed her hand at Sharon’s shoulder and stroked it tenderly, figuring it to be the safest place to touch her in light of her injuries. “I’m here. You just rest.”
“M’kay.” Sharon’s eyes drifted closed again.
Andrea looked to the door, hoping that a doctor would soon be making an appearance so that she could let him or her know that Sharon had briefly wakened, and also so that she could find out what the fuck was going on.
It wasn’t a white lab coat that she saw first coming cautiously through the door, however; it was a white floppy sun-hat, clasped against Lieutenant Provenza’s chest. If he was surprised at seeing her there, he didn’t show it. Flynn followed behind him, his brow crinkled in concern. Flynn was holding a small arrangement of balloons, a silver mylar “It’s a Boy!” most prominent among them.
Andrea had another flashback to the last time she’d been in this hospital; she’d bought Regina the same one.
“Only one they had in the shop,” Flynn said defensively when he noticed her staring at it. “More appropriate for the Captain now than the ‘It’s a Girl’ balloon Provenza brought me after I got knifed.”
Provenza rolled his eyes. “How’s the Captain doing?” he asked in low tones.
Andrea shook her head. “I don’t know much at all. She seems to be pretty heavily sedated. From what I understand, they had to drill into her skull to relieve the pressure from the swelling.”
“Hell of a thing, to get taken down by an SIS goon,” Flynn said. “Better that than a bullet, for sure, but possibly more painful.”
“Where’s the kid?” Provenza asked her. “I know Buzz dropped him off here a couple of hours ago.”
“Rusty went to get something to eat. Seemed like he’d been here for quite a while,” she answered. “So you were both there when it happened?”
The two lieutenants exchanged a glance, and Flynn proceeded to explain. “We decided to make a move, take the suspect in the Barnes murder into custody. Asshole took off for his grandmother’s house, took grandma and his six-year-old cousin hostage. Taylor called in SIS while the Captain was trying to negotiate, things got a little heated when the perp realized he was surrounded. Shots were fired, and when it was all over, the perp was dead, granny and kiddie were fine, and the Captain was unconscious on the ground with a very apologetic Officer Abrams on top of her.”
“Wow.” Andrea sighed. “Close call.”
“Too close,” came a weak voice from the bed. “Where...Rusty?”
“I’m here, Sharon.” Rusty came into the room, holding a tall soft drink cup and wearing a concerned expression. “We’re all here.”
“Most of us, anyway,” Provenza added. “I made Sykes, Sanchez, and Tao stick around for the FID investigation.”
Sharon smiled wanly. “That’s important.”
“That’s my girl,” Andrea said softly. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Some. Don’t wanna...think...right now.”
“Fair enough,” Flynn said. “You got taken down by one of our own, Captain, but it was all for a good cause.”
“Told Taylor...didn’t need SIS messing things up for us...trigger-happy idiots...”
“At least Abrams has quick reflexes,” Provenza intoned.
“Must be impressive. The guy is apparently big enough to have broken her ribs and given her a concussion,” Andrea said. Big enough to have done more damage than that.
“Big guy,” Sharon agreed.
“Well, Captain, it looks like you’re in good hands here.” Provenza looked at Andrea, giving her a slight nod of support and...approval?...before turning to Rusty and giving him a rare smile. “Flynn and I need to get back to the station, wrap things up.”
“Tell the team...good job,” Sharon wheezed.
“Will do.” Provenza turned to leave. Flynn stepped closer to Rusty, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “Take care, kid.”
Sharon’s eyes were closed again by the time the two lieutenants exited the room. Rusty offered Andrea the sole chair in the room, gesturing toward it. “You want to sit?”
She smiled at his thoughtfulness and shook her head. “Nah. I’ve got too much nervous energy to sit. You go ahead and take the chair.”
Rusty shrugged and took a book out of his knapsack before easing down into the chair. A few minutes passed, attended only by the occasional rustling of pages and the strong, even beat of Sharon’s heart on the monitor.
“Andrea?” Rusty’s timid voice broke the impasse. “What’s going to happen? While Sharon recovers?”
She gave a parting caress to Sharon’s forearm and walked over to be closer to Rusty. She leaned against the painted cinderblock wall and held his gaze. The uncertainty and fear in his eyes tore at her heart.
What would Sharon tell him? She was so much better with kids than Andrea...
Buck up, Hobbs. Was she or wasn’t she in this relationship for the long haul?
“I think,” she began, “that Sharon will be discharged in a few days. And in the meantime, I will stay with you at Sharon’s house so that you don’t have to get placed somewhere else. And when she comes home, I will stay there and help out until she’s feeling better.”
Sharon might have something to say about this plan, but from her stilted speech and head injury, Andrea figured that decision-making might be best left to her for the imminent future.
Rusty still hadn’t said anything. “That sound all right to you, Rusty?”
He tilted his head. “Would you be able to drive me to school in the mornings? So that I don’t have to get dropped off in a patrol car?”
Teenagers. “Yeah, Rusty. Of course I’ll drive you.”
Rusty flashed her a grateful smile, and returned his attention to The Scarlet Letter. Andrea found herself looking from Sharon’s supine form, to the top of Rusty’s slightly bent head, his sandy hair drooping into his eyes, and up to the corner ceiling of the room, where a mylar balloon mocked her.
It’s a Boy!
Andrea laughed.
Rating: T
Word count: 2500
Pairing: Raydor♥Hobbs
Summary: When Sharon gets hurt in the line of duty, Andrea faces her past...and her future.
A/N: Written for defyingnormalcy’s birthday. Thanks for all the great prompts, hon. :) I hope you have a wonderful day. Thanks to newnumbertwo for her beta.
Andrea looked doubtfully at the bunch of daisies she held in her shaking hand and sighed as the elevator surged upward. She hadn’t been at UCLA Medical Center since she’d come to visit her ex in the maternity ward three years earlier.
Regina had looked so serene, a blissful expression on her face that was totally foreign to Andrea. Seeing the way she held baby Max in her arms had just served to validate their breakup. Regina had wanted to start a family, Andrea hadn’t. Regina loved that baby more than she ever could have loved Andrea.
She had feared that she’d be lonely after Regina left, but then Sharon Raydor had waltzed into the Major Crimes murder room and brought a discipline with her the unit had been lacking. Andrea had at first viewed the Captain just as a law-and-order ally in an otherwise undisciplined camp. Okay, that and a great set of legs, too. Then on the day when Andrea got shot in the arm, Raydor had earned some notoriety of her own for her brilliant bean-bag marksmanship, a criminal defense attorney went to jail, and a friendship was born. That friendship blossomed into a relationship after Sharon was assigned to head Major Crimes, and now, even with Andrea’s hectic schedule and Sharon’s responsibility for her foster son, they had been dating for nearly a year.
It hadn’t always been easy, especially once they got to the point where it was hard to keep the relationship under wraps while at work. But they’d gotten through that (the culture in the murder room really had come a long way since Brenda Leigh Johnson had first arrived, she had to admit--even Provenza had been supportive, though he quipped to Andrea that she had questionable taste). They’d gotten through the DA’s reassignment of the Stroh case to Rios once the DA found out about the conflict (one of several that the obnoxious neophyte DDA constantly liked to bring up). And Andrea had become genuinely fond of the young man who shared Sharon’s home and demanded her attentions. The kid had such a tough road, it was impossible to harbor any of the resentment or jealousy she’d felt when her ex had first expressed her desire to parent a child.
But this...could she be strong enough to handle it?
The elevator stopped and Andrea took a deep breath, steeling herself to face the hallway of recovery rooms.
It’s just a concussion and some cracked ribs, she reminded herself, trying to push the fear aside. She’s going to be fine. You need to be strong.
“I can’t,” Andrea muttered under her breath. Getting too close to someone meant getting hurt when they left. Whether they chose to, like Regina-- or not.
She’d had lovers leave. She’d seen police officers killed in the line of duty.
What she hadn’t experienced before getting the call from Flynn a few hours earlier was the connection between the two.
The nauseous feeling in her stomach returned as she walked down the depressing taupe fluorescent-lighted hall and thought back to that fateful call.
”Andrea, it’s Flynn. Look...the Captain’s been hurt. Crime scene wasn’t properly secured, shots were fired.”
“No, no, please..”
“She wasn’t hit, Andrea, but she took a hell of a thumping when the officer took her down for cover. She’s in surgery at UCLA Med Center. I thought you should know.”
The nurses hadn’t wanted to tell her anything. She’d gotten more information about Sharon’s condition after explaining that she was an Assistant District Attorney involved with the case than she did by identifying herself as Sharon’s friend. She tried working for a few hours, knowing Sharon was still in surgery. Thoughts of her lover, shot and bleeding, her green eyes lifeless and glassy, dominated her thoughts, and it was impossible to concentrate on her cases. Thank goodness she didn’t have any court appearances to get through. Finally she gave up any pretense of work, which was how she’d ended up here.
At last she came to room 2112. The door was open, and she looked in, waiting at the doorway.
Sharon was asleep: her eyes closed, her head bandaged, an IV attached at the crook of her elbow.
Rusty looked up from the chair in the corner of the room, from Andrea to Sharon, and got up. “Hey, Andrea. I’m, uh, gonna go get something to eat.” He gave Andrea an awkward nod as he walked past her and into the hallway. He looked back after a moment and saw that Andrea still hadn’t entered the room. “She’ll be awake soon, Andrea, and she’ll want to see you.”
She smiled. Rusty seemed fine, and he cared about Sharon as much as she did. Maybe things would be all right. “Thanks, Rusty.”
Andrea steeled herself and walked into the room, pulling the door nearly closed behind her. She approached the side of the bed, trying to focus more on the strong steady beeping of the heart monitor instead of the sight of her lover, unconscious and bruised.
As she got closer and leaned over Sharon, she saw no sign of Sharon’s thick chestnut tresses beneath the bandages covering her crown. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, setting the stupid daisies down on the bedside table. “They shaved your head.”
She was sure Sharon would be just as beautiful as ever, even without her magnificent coif. But it would be a long-term reminder of what could have happened.
What could have happened... What a euphemism. Andrea had been a prosecutor for over twenty years. She knew exactly what kind of things could happen-- even to high-ranking police officers.
Especially to them. Sharon was no desk jockey. She still went out to crime scenes despite her “promotion.”
Why had she gotten called in, anyway? Andrea tried to remember if Sharon had said anything before they’d parted the previous evening after a quiet dinner at their favorite Italian place. They’d lingered over mint sorbet and chocolate gelato, trading spoonfuls of each, exchanging playful glances before Sharon had regretfully pushed her bowl away and announced that she needed to get home and make sure Rusty had finished his homework before it got too much later. They’d exchanged some brief, sweet kisses in the parking lot as they said goodbye and headed off to their respective homes. Sharon hadn’t said anything about an open investigation...
Andrea pulled Rusty’s chair closer to the bedside and settled in, reaching out to cover Sharon’s hand with her own. She’d just have to wait for Sharon to wake up to get the whole story.
The bottom of her stomach dropped out again as she allowed herself to finally catalogue Sharon’s delicate features. Deep purple-gold bruises surrounded both of her eyes; even the eyelids were discolored. There was a tiny speck of blood at the corner of her mouth, just below her bottom lip.
Am I strong enough for this? To be here for her? Andrea wondered, taking in the scrapes on Sharon’s palms and inner forearms.
When Andrea had been shot, she was single. Her fellow DDAs were sympathetic and a little impressed; her brother out in Orange County took the news in stride and offered to take her to the gun range once her arm got better to work on her self-defense. It was just a glancing blow to the side of her upper arm, not even through-and-through. But she’d been alone; no one had been scared for her once she got bandaged up and the psychic trauma of having been assaulted set in.
Not like she was scared for Sharon now.
“Why couldn’t I have fallen for a nice safe schoolteacher?” Andrea said out loud. Her ex was an artist who worked mostly in blown glass; she could spend hours a day within the relative safety of her fireproofed studio. She’d never had much interest in Andrea’s work, barely understood what exactly it was that she did. Sharon was entirely different.
I understand her work, like she understands mine. It was a huge part of why their relationship worked. There was a physical attraction, but also a mutual respect, a professional courtesy that had served as the basis for so much more.
I want there to be more, Andrea admitted to herself. More than quiet dinners together and occasional sleep-overs when Rusty was invited to a friend’s. I want to be here for her, now.
Wake up, Sharon. Andrea pulled the chair even closer then leaned back, watching the rise and fall of Sharon’s chest.
Within a few minutes, Sharon’s eyes fluttered open. “An-die?” she croaked, and Andrea sprung to her feet, hovering over Sharon.
“I’m here, love,” she said, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Sharon moved to sit up, then whimpered and brought her hand up to her chest. “Hurts.”
“I know, sweet. You’re going to be okay.” Andrea placed her hand at Sharon’s shoulder and stroked it tenderly, figuring it to be the safest place to touch her in light of her injuries. “I’m here. You just rest.”
“M’kay.” Sharon’s eyes drifted closed again.
Andrea looked to the door, hoping that a doctor would soon be making an appearance so that she could let him or her know that Sharon had briefly wakened, and also so that she could find out what the fuck was going on.
It wasn’t a white lab coat that she saw first coming cautiously through the door, however; it was a white floppy sun-hat, clasped against Lieutenant Provenza’s chest. If he was surprised at seeing her there, he didn’t show it. Flynn followed behind him, his brow crinkled in concern. Flynn was holding a small arrangement of balloons, a silver mylar “It’s a Boy!” most prominent among them.
Andrea had another flashback to the last time she’d been in this hospital; she’d bought Regina the same one.
“Only one they had in the shop,” Flynn said defensively when he noticed her staring at it. “More appropriate for the Captain now than the ‘It’s a Girl’ balloon Provenza brought me after I got knifed.”
Provenza rolled his eyes. “How’s the Captain doing?” he asked in low tones.
Andrea shook her head. “I don’t know much at all. She seems to be pretty heavily sedated. From what I understand, they had to drill into her skull to relieve the pressure from the swelling.”
“Hell of a thing, to get taken down by an SIS goon,” Flynn said. “Better that than a bullet, for sure, but possibly more painful.”
“Where’s the kid?” Provenza asked her. “I know Buzz dropped him off here a couple of hours ago.”
“Rusty went to get something to eat. Seemed like he’d been here for quite a while,” she answered. “So you were both there when it happened?”
The two lieutenants exchanged a glance, and Flynn proceeded to explain. “We decided to make a move, take the suspect in the Barnes murder into custody. Asshole took off for his grandmother’s house, took grandma and his six-year-old cousin hostage. Taylor called in SIS while the Captain was trying to negotiate, things got a little heated when the perp realized he was surrounded. Shots were fired, and when it was all over, the perp was dead, granny and kiddie were fine, and the Captain was unconscious on the ground with a very apologetic Officer Abrams on top of her.”
“Wow.” Andrea sighed. “Close call.”
“Too close,” came a weak voice from the bed. “Where...Rusty?”
“I’m here, Sharon.” Rusty came into the room, holding a tall soft drink cup and wearing a concerned expression. “We’re all here.”
“Most of us, anyway,” Provenza added. “I made Sykes, Sanchez, and Tao stick around for the FID investigation.”
Sharon smiled wanly. “That’s important.”
“That’s my girl,” Andrea said softly. “Do you remember what happened?”
“Some. Don’t wanna...think...right now.”
“Fair enough,” Flynn said. “You got taken down by one of our own, Captain, but it was all for a good cause.”
“Told Taylor...didn’t need SIS messing things up for us...trigger-happy idiots...”
“At least Abrams has quick reflexes,” Provenza intoned.
“Must be impressive. The guy is apparently big enough to have broken her ribs and given her a concussion,” Andrea said. Big enough to have done more damage than that.
“Big guy,” Sharon agreed.
“Well, Captain, it looks like you’re in good hands here.” Provenza looked at Andrea, giving her a slight nod of support and...approval?...before turning to Rusty and giving him a rare smile. “Flynn and I need to get back to the station, wrap things up.”
“Tell the team...good job,” Sharon wheezed.
“Will do.” Provenza turned to leave. Flynn stepped closer to Rusty, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “Take care, kid.”
Sharon’s eyes were closed again by the time the two lieutenants exited the room. Rusty offered Andrea the sole chair in the room, gesturing toward it. “You want to sit?”
She smiled at his thoughtfulness and shook her head. “Nah. I’ve got too much nervous energy to sit. You go ahead and take the chair.”
Rusty shrugged and took a book out of his knapsack before easing down into the chair. A few minutes passed, attended only by the occasional rustling of pages and the strong, even beat of Sharon’s heart on the monitor.
“Andrea?” Rusty’s timid voice broke the impasse. “What’s going to happen? While Sharon recovers?”
She gave a parting caress to Sharon’s forearm and walked over to be closer to Rusty. She leaned against the painted cinderblock wall and held his gaze. The uncertainty and fear in his eyes tore at her heart.
What would Sharon tell him? She was so much better with kids than Andrea...
Buck up, Hobbs. Was she or wasn’t she in this relationship for the long haul?
“I think,” she began, “that Sharon will be discharged in a few days. And in the meantime, I will stay with you at Sharon’s house so that you don’t have to get placed somewhere else. And when she comes home, I will stay there and help out until she’s feeling better.”
Sharon might have something to say about this plan, but from her stilted speech and head injury, Andrea figured that decision-making might be best left to her for the imminent future.
Rusty still hadn’t said anything. “That sound all right to you, Rusty?”
He tilted his head. “Would you be able to drive me to school in the mornings? So that I don’t have to get dropped off in a patrol car?”
Teenagers. “Yeah, Rusty. Of course I’ll drive you.”
Rusty flashed her a grateful smile, and returned his attention to The Scarlet Letter. Andrea found herself looking from Sharon’s supine form, to the top of Rusty’s slightly bent head, his sandy hair drooping into his eyes, and up to the corner ceiling of the room, where a mylar balloon mocked her.
It’s a Boy!
Andrea laughed.