#Sharon Raydor is alive

[little-firestar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Major Crimes (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Rusty Beck & Sharon Raydor Characters: Rusty Beck, Louie Provenza, Wes Nolan, Sharon Raydor Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Sharon Raydor is alive Summary:

"Go to Presbyterian, Rusty," Provenza ordered him, gripping his shoulders in a firm hold, his voice low but sure. "And find your mother's doctor, and tell him Stroh is dead."

[sarking]

That fake smile just for Brenda :) ❤️

[littlefoxywrites]

My addition to FYSRIA2018

I mean, it’s only eleven days late. That’s gotta be some kind of record for me. 

.

.

Fuck you, Sharon Raydor is Alive. 

.

.

Aldebaran

December 19, 2018

Andy slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked up at Rusty. “What?”

Rusty turned away from the window and returned to fidget in front of Andy. “Does it usually take this long?”

Andy laughed, despite Rusty’s serious expression. “Yes. It still might take a while.”

Rusty dropped into one of the plastic waiting room chairs and sighed heavily. “We’ve been here over an hour, and Ricky said they got here this morning.”

“Babies take time, kid. It can be hours, days even, though I don’t think we’ll be here that long."

“Ugh.” Rusty wrinkled his nose. “Nope. I’m beyond happy not to ever have to deal with this. Personally, I mean. I’m okay with sitting here, but. . .” he trailed off, staring down the hall. “I’m glad I’m not Ricky.” He tore his gaze away and changed the subject. “When’s Mom getting here?”

“She said she was parking. Ricky’s going to be fine. His hand might be sore, but that’s about it. Claire’s doing all the hard work.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “No shit.” Claire was Ricky’s girlfriend of the last several years. She was a doctor, which Rusty didn’t really care about, and also really good at video games, which was much more interesting. “Did Ricky show you the ring he got?” Ricky, despite his lapse in religion, had felt a little weird about doing things backwards, baby first. Andy had told him that it didn’t matter, that societal norms weren’t for everyone, and Rusty had laughed at that.

“I saw a photo of it, but not the actual one.” Andy glanced towards the door for a moment. “He hasn’t told Sharon yet. It’ll be a surprise.”

“She’s going to lose her mind. A daughter-in-law and a baby on the same day?”

Andy nodded then glanced over Rusty’s shoulder and shook his head slightly. Rusty turned just as Sharon stepped into the waiting room, heels clicking on the lino. Somewhere over the last year, he’d noticed she decided to gradually lessen her dye job, and a few streaks of white now framed her face, though she’d swept most of her hair up in a clip.

“The Times showed up at our scene, and I got tied up until Chief Mason could get there. Then there was a pile-up on the 101, so it took fo-“

Andy leaned in and kissed her cheek. “It’s fine. You haven’t missed anything.”

She rolled her eyes, hugged Rusty, then settled into the seat next to her husband. “How are they doing?”

“Ricky came out a while ago and said everything is fine. They thought the kiddo was probably going to be out pretty soon.”

“Okay. He didn’t happen to-"

“No,” Andy cut her off with a laugh. “Nice try. He hasn’t even told me ‘cause he thinks I’ll accidentally let it slip.”

Sharon turned to Rusty, who immediately backed away, hands up. “Nope. Not telling.”

“You know?” Sharon’s voice rose sharply.

“Yeah, sibling rules: we don’t keep secrets from each other.”

Andy started laughing again. “I can’t save you now, kid. She’s going to try every trick in the book to get it out of you.” Ricky and Claire had decided not to tell anyone but- apparently- their siblings what the baby’s gender was. They’d decided it wasn’t hugely important and they didn’t need an overwhelming amount of pink or blue in their lives. Instead, they’d painted the baby’s room yellow and decorated it with all manner of farm animals. And a camel. Rusty had been over to their house the weekend before and found a stuffed camel lurking on the changing table. 

Sharon sighed in exasperation. “I just like to know everything.”

“You don’t say,” Andy mumbled around his coffee.

Sharon slapped his arm lightly and turned back to Rusty. “How did finals go?”

“Fine. I should have my grades back next week. Tort was probably the hardest, but that’s just because it’s kind of boring.” He stared at his mother, studying her face. “I’m not going to tell you. You’ve waited this long, you’ve just got a couple more hours, max."

“I’ve reached that conclusion, thank you. I can wait.” She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. “What about you?” She nudged Andy. “How was your lunch with Provenza?” The old man had finally retired a month previously, and Andy regularly went to lunch with his old partner, which was how he’d beaten Sharon to the hospital. He’d come from his interrupted lunch, and Sharon had come from across town.

“Good. He said he and Patrice can come over for Christmas Eve dinner. They don’t know about Mass, yet. He said to tell you you did a good job being on the news last week.”

“Ugh, I seem to have to deal with the media more and more.”

“Well, Deputy Chief Raydor, that rank has more responsibility.” She had been promoted to Deputy Chief after the minimum one year as a commander.

“It was a name-only promotion. I’m not in the meetings with Pope or the mayor. I just got the promotion because Pope is trying to save face with women and outside reviewers. It looks better for him if he eventually promotes those of us who’ve been stuck at the same rank for decades.” She chuckled. “Good Lord, I don’t remember Brenda having to deal with reporters so often.”

Andy looked at her askance. “I think that was purposeful. I always assumed you had a hand in it.”

“Nooo. . . but I get your point. She-“ Sharon grimaced. “It gives me a headache just imagining what she’d’ve said on-camera."

“Are the guys having trouble calling you ‘Chief?’” Rusty asked. “Isn’t that what you guys all called Brenda?”

Chief Johnson, yes.”

“Provenza hasn’t gotten it right yet.”

Sharon shrugged. “It’ll take time. I was a captain for so long that I still sign things that way every once in a while. The guys might get it right by the time I retire."

“As one of the highest-ranking woman in the LAPD,” Andy added.

“Not for long. Rumor has it Anne McGinnis is going up to deputy chief two.” Deputy Chief was a three-tiered rank. Sharon had made DC-I, the first rank, equal to McGinnis. “Anne is young. It’ll be a worthwhile promotion.”

“And your’s isn’t?”

“Honey. Let’s be honest. The brass has been trying to put you, me, and Provenza out to pasture for years, now. It was for show, part of Pope’s last grasp at straws. I- we- are both closing in on seventy, and we’re not going to stay with the PD that much longer. I for one want to spend-“ Sharon clapped her hands together. “So much time spoiling the boys and the newest addition.”

Rusty choked on the dregs of his coffee and coughed before apologizing. “Sorry, I just can’t get over the fact that that’s what you decided the baby’s nickname would be. You know, normal people pick stuff like ‘little pea,’ or ‘pumpkin,’ or some other little vegetable name, and you picked ‘newest addition.’ It sounds like a house.”

“It feels like a house, Rusty, trust me.”

“Ugh, you know what, I’m gonna go on a walk, I’m not getting into another discussion about body parts.”

“Body parts? Mom, are you talking shop again?” Ricky’s voice echoed down the hall. He stepped into the waiting room in plaid pajamas and an old Stanford shirt.

Sharon was on her feet in a second. “Ricky, honey!”

“Hey, Mom.” He hugged her, resting his chin on her head. “How’s work?”

“Richard William, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” She looked up at him.

“Really? Coulda fooled me.” He grinned at Rusty. “Should we let her in on the secret?”

“Nah,” Rusty kicked his feet up and over the arm of his chair, trying to look nonchalant. “Just let her stew. It’s kind of funny."

Sharon growled in frustration.

“Okay, okay. They only want two people back at once right now, so is it cool if you guys go one at a time for now?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Take Mom first or she’s gonna lose it.” Rusty flopped into a chair and picked up Sharon’s mostly full coffee. Their tastes weren’t so dissimilar that he’d turn away a hot cup of caffeine.

Ricky turned and began down the hall with his mother. “So you know how I said I liked those star names?”

She nodded, mentally running through that conversation. “So. . .?” Astrid had been mentioned at one point.

“I was thinking of naming the kid Aldebaran. Or maybe Rigel.”

“Oh!”

Ricky wished he could take a photo of his mother’s face. She was desperately trying to conceal her shock, but her jaw dropped slightly and her step had hitched for a moment.

She eventually spoke. “Rigel is nice.”

“Rigel Raydor?” He laughed. “I’m kidding, Mom. Just yanking your leg.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.” She slipped one arm through his as they walked. “Honey, you can’t tease me like that.”

“Mom, you’re a hot shot in one of the biggest police departments in the country. I thought you’d figure it out pretty fast.”

“I’m chief in name only.”

“Still. You’re way too savvy for your own good, and I think you’re selling yourself short a little.”

She rolled her eyes and patted his arm. “At this point, I honestly don’t care anymore. I’ve gone further in my professional life than I ever expected or intended, and I am perfectly happy with my personal life. Besides, I’m your mother. It’s my job to keep you on your toes and not show you all my cards.”

“Leave the en pointe to Emily.” Ricky finally stopped at a door, one hand on the doorknob. “Do you feel like a grandmother yet?”

She sighed. “Yes and no. Andy and I’ve had Nicole’s boys for. . . three years now, but I met them as pre-schoolers, not babies, so this just feels different. Besides, as much as I love Nicole, she’s not you or Emily or Rusty. This is different. Not in a bad way, but it is.” She swept a hand back over her hair. “I feel old.” She started laughing with her son. “I know, I know. There’s no need to remind me of the actual number. I almost said it to Andy a few minutes ago, already.”

Ricky just grinned at her and pushed the door open. Claire was dozing in bed, blankets curled around her fist, mouth open. Ricky slipped around her and picked up a very small person from the hospital’s bassinet. There was a little white hat, and the baby peered up at them with wide eyes and wispy red hair. 

Sharon clasped her hand to her mouth. “It’s like seeing Emily for the first time again, my God.” The first time she’d held her daughter, Emily had looked at her with what seemed like curiosity, but Sharon knew was just unfocused baby blues. Still, she’d felt a jolt as she realized that the subject of her ultrasound photos was now in her arms, someone she’d raise, teach, keep safe, and love for as long as she lived. It felt like a weight on her shoulders, but a good kind of weight, like a warm winter coat or her father’s arm.

“Well, that’s what I thought, too,” Ricky joked, “but we decided two Emilys would be too complicated, so we decided to name her Angela Erin. Aldebaran just didn’t fit once we met her.”

“Angela.”

“Yeah.”

Sharon stepped close to Ricky, and they carefully shuffled Angela into her grandmother’s arms. Sharon hummed keenly, adjusting her grip.

Ricky watched his mother sway gently with the baby and a wide smile. They seemed to both be lost in a private moment, so he glanced up at Claire, who was watching him with tired eyes and an amused expression. He sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand.

“I think we found ourselves a babysitter,” Claire murmured as she drifted back to wakefulness.

“Oh, yeah. Mom loves kids.”

“Mm, I never would've guessed,” she snorted.

“I have another thing I bet you can’t guess.” His palms suddenly felt damp, and he hoped the feeling was all in his head.

“Yeah?” Claire shifted to see him better, and the rustle of the sheets caught Sharon’s attention.

“Uh,” he stuttered, stuffed his hand into his pocket, and saw his mother freeze, her face going blank. He’d grabbed the ring out of its box in a rolled-up pair of wool socks when Claire had woken him up the night before, knowing the box would be too obtrusive. “I got you a thing.”

Sharon bit her lip, trying not to smile. She wasn’t sure, but she had a sudden feeling she knew what was coming.

“A thing?” Claire’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “Well, I just got you a thing, too. A rather noisy thing, but she’s pretty cute.”

“Yeah, she is. Uh, yeah.” He fumbled the ring out of his pocket and held it out to her. The slim gold band and its line of small diamonds winked against his palm. “I know glitter’s your favorite color, but I didn’t want something that’d get caught on your gloves at work, but we could get one of those rubber bands, too, if you think that’d work better, I mean, I looked at the colors they have and-“

“Ricky, honey.” Claire unknowingly repeated Sharon’s earlier greeting.

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t this kind of thing usually paired with a question?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Sharon laughed despite herself and Claire joined in.

“Mo-om!”

Angela shrieked.

Ricky ran his fingers through his hair and held up the ring. “Claire Katherine Ellis, would you do me the honor of being my wife, even though we seem to be doing this whole baby-and-marriage thing in a bass-ackwards way?"

Claire’s eyes were damp, but she still managed to wink at Sharon. “What do you say? Should we make him wait or just put him out of misery?” She paused for a moment, then held her hand out. “You nerd, you don’t need to even ask, of course the answer’s yes.”

Ricky slipped the ring on, then leaned forward to kiss her deeply. 

Sharon looked down at her granddaughter. “This is the part where we leave them alone to take care of grown-up business, darling.” She slipped quietly out of the room, and checked in with the staff about having Rusty and Andy come back to see Angela. Claire’s parents were still en route, and- the last Sharon heard- they were still nearly an hour out.

She looked up when she heard her boys approaching. Rusty hung back slightly, but Andy stepped up to her side.

“This is Angela. Angela, this is your Grandpa Andy and your Uncle Rusty.”

Rusty looked surprised, as if he hadn’t realized his exact relation. Sharon smiled at him.

“Come here.”

His eyes went wide. “Mom-“

“Rusty, it’s okay. I’ll show you.”

He made a small noise, but reached for Angela nonetheless.

“Mm, just like that. Just make sure to support her head, mhmm. See? Not so bad.”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t as tense as he had been, but he still seemed nervous.

Sharon leaned into Andy’s side. “It gets less nerve-wracking the more you do it.”

“Uncle Rusty’s going to be a pro at this,” Andy teased him.

Rusty glanced over momentarily. “It’s funny, I never would have guessed I’d be here. . .”

“Neither would’ve I,” Sharon told him. “Grandchildren one day, yes, but this? You, and you-“ a nudge to Andy’s side, “- and Claire? No, never in my wildest dreams."

“And Claire?” Rusty echoed.

“Mm, Ricky made the most stunningly Ricky proposal in there.”

Rusty groaned. “Did he mess it up? Dude, we practiced it! He made me be Claire!”

Sharon’s jaw dropped again as Andy laughed.

“You knew about this, too?”

[kate04us]

Been digging up some old things I did in Photoshop and played around with a few of them yesterday.

[mksc77]

Christmas Surprises

Apologies for the repost, but I noticed a typo and tried to fix it—my tumblr lost its damn mind and I had to repost. I’m pretty sure we broke tumblr with #sharonraydorisalive, haha.

Focusing on the anger part of the ending that didn't happen rather than the sadness made this more fun to write—I'm not at all trying to downplay the sadness a lot of us felt, this approach was just more fun :)

Anna is Sharon's nephew's wife who also watches Badge of Justice, and Carter is her newborn.

Response to a twitter prompt, but I wrote it to fit the “Sharon Raydor is alive” fanfest.

“For the love of god, would you put on some pants?”

"I can't believe that just happened." Sharon flicked the TV off in frustration. Andy was on the couch beside her with tears streaming down his cheeks. "Mike could've at least warned me. What's wrong with you? You've never even liked Badge of Justice."

"I'm pretty sure he's not allowed to do that," Andy muttered as he wiped his eyes. "I don't like the show, but I'm not dead inside! Randy and Dusty looked heartbroken. Everyone did. I can't imagine going through that."

"I'm not dead inside, either, but that whole 'cardiomyopathy' storyline was preposterous. No one dies within weeks of a diagnosis. Sherry either faked her death or Huff just didn't give a shit about making the last season any good. I'm not getting sad over a grown man's temper tantrum and an unrealistic storyline." Angry, definitely, but not sad. Well, a little sad. Okay, fine, she'd probably have a good cry before she fell asleep later that night, but anger was the primary emotion she was feeling at the moment. "Sure, give two men heart attacks and no more problems after that, but give the little delicate woman a mild heart condition that kills her in a matter of weeks? That makes sense. Are you kidding me?"

Andy wrapped his arm around her and kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, well, we're both healthy and have a lot of life left to live."

"Yeah, in a world that treats women like they're disposable and don't deserve the slightest bit of logic. They never would've given a man such a bullshit storyline." Sharon leaned against Andy and gazed at the lit Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Her phone was going nuts with texts from Anna, and they furiously texted back and forth about the absurdity of the episode they both now regretted watching.

Andy sensibly refilled Sharon's wine glass, put the dinner dishes in the dishwasher, and cleaned the kitchen while Sharon and Anna engaged in their Huff roast. If he played his cards right, he could get some serious Angry Sex out of this. Not that he ever got it when the anger was directed at him, but if something else made Sharon mad, then he often reaped some pretty sweet benefits. Cleaning up would also tip the scale in his favor. He'd seen the way Sharon practically drooled over him when he washed dishes or folded laundry, and he wasn't above capitalizing on that.

"I think I'm going to FaceTime Anna. Maybe seeing Carter will put me in a better mood," Sharon commented.

No, no, no, now was not the time for her to get soft. Andy sat back down on the couch and nudged her phone away before slowly gliding his tongue along the side of her neck to the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Or, we could..."

"Okay." Sharon softly placed her hand under his chin and kissed him with a fervor that made her intentions clear. She squealed as Andy lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

Angry Sex was usually more vigorous than any other brand, but not this much. Andy was surprised this time. Properly exhausted and sated, he looped his arm around Sharon and rubbed her back as she nuzzled into his chest.

A few minutes later, Sharon begrudgingly got up and went to the bathroom. Andy gave her a couple of minutes before going in behind her. "How about a bath?"

"That sounds good." Sharon washed her face as Andy started running the water and added her favorite bath oils. When the water was high enough, Sharon got in, and Andy climbed in behind her. He didn't share her love for sitting in hot water and doing nothing, but he joined her when she took a bath every now and then. Sharon released a contented sigh and relaxed against him. It didn't take long for Andy to get antsy, so he idly traced his finger along the top of her shoulder.

“Hmmm, that feels nice...Oh my god, Andy, did you just draw a penis?"

Andy grinned. "Maybe."

Sharon laughed as she pulled his arms around her and placed them on her stomach. "You're impossible." She turned her head and kissed him before resting against his shoulder. "I love you."

"Love you, babe."

They got out a little while later, and Sharon put her robe on out of habit before going to the kitchen for a glass of water. She froze as she heard the lock in the door turn, and she was shocked to see Emily and Ricky coming in after Rusty. She heard Andy's footsteps coming down the hall, and despite the fact that he had no such habit of being clothed all the time even when no one else was there, her jaw was frozen and she couldn't speak. "Hey, babe, I think that bath might've geared me up for round two...Jesus Christ." Andy instinctively moved behind the couch to cover himself.

All three children were stunned into silence for a few moments, but as they connected the dots, Emily started cackling, Ricky just turned bright red and covered his face, and Rusty started whining. "Oh my god, are you guys serious?! It's bad enough that I have to hear you guys sometimes. This is just wrong."

"I'm so—I—" Sharon stammered. Her mouth was still mostly frozen, but her eyes weren't, and she had a good view of Andy from where she was standing. Between being shocked into silence and unable to tear her eyes away from Andy's naked form, speaking wasn't her strong suit. "What—why—I—for the love of god, Andy, would you put on some pants?!"

Andy smiled nervously. "I'm, uh, kinda stuck here."

Sharon got a clean towel from the dryer in the laundry room and gave Andy one last look before she gave it to him. "What are you guys doing here?!" She pulled Emily and Ricky into her arms at the same time and kissed each of them on the cheek. "You were supposed to be going out for dinner and to a movie with Buzz after work!" She said to Rusty.

"Yeah, I told you that so I could go get them without you asking questions...Oh, God, I'm never coming home without giving you guys a twenty minute warning again. And I'm definitely never coming home early again."

Sharon turned back to Emily and noticed for the first time that she was on crutches. "Honey, what happened?!"

"I sprained my ankle during a rehearsal last week, so my understudy is taking my place. I decided to take advantage of it and come home early."

"Are you all right? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm fine. And I knew you didn't know Ricky was coming home early, and I wanted in on the surprise. I found a flight that landed an hour before Ricky's, and I waited so Rusty could pick us up at the same time."

"And I had some vacation time I was going to lose if I didn't take some extra days off, so I went ahead and came home," Ricky added, with a look of disgust still on his face. "But I'm starting to think I would've rathered lose the vacation."

"I'm sorry, honey, but I'm so glad you're both here! Not that you're hurt, Em, but I'm happy we'll have some time here together before we go to Park City."

Emily was still laughing about the horrified expressions on Ricky's and Rusty's faces. "Hey, seeing the looks on their faces just now was well worth the sprained ankle."

Later that night, with Emily unconscious on the couch and Ricky and Rusty blowing up the air mattress for Ricky, Sharon and Andy made an early escape to bed. Andy was kissing her like they hadn't just had sex a couple of hours ago, and Sharon pulled away from him. "I thought you were kidding about 'round two.' I think the kids have been traumatized enough for one day."

Andy shrugged. "Who said round two had to make as much noise or have as many participants?"

Sharon propped herself up against a couple of pillows and adjusted her nightgown. "Well then, by all means, Lieutenant, please proceed."

[catelyngrant]

remembering how they legit killed sharon raydor a year ago like

[beyond---delusional]

Every inch of you is perfect from the

To the

[kadi219]

New Fic!

New fic for today. Not much, but I was feeling inspired to reclaim my feels.

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13151447/1/Navigation-is-a-Virtue

[sarking]

Hello, Sharon Raydor fans!

December 19 is the anniversary of Conspiracy Theory Part 4, so let's all take this opportunity to completely ignore it and celebrate how much we love Sharon. 

How should we celebrate that? With a fanworks fest! Fic, gifsets, essays, artwork, rec lists, fanvids -- any pairing, any rating, any type of Sharon-centered fanwork you want, posted at any time on December 19.

Not enough time to put together something new? No problem! December 19 is also the perfect day to cram your queue with reblogs of your favorite Sharon posts or leave some feedback on Sharon-centric fanworks!

Sharon might love rules, but the Fuck You, Sharon Raydor Is Alive fest only has one: no dead Sharon. The rest is up to you! Go forth and spread the Sharon love.

To help your fellow Sharon fans find your posts, please consider tagging them Sharon Raydor Is Alive.

[littlefoxywrites]

A Thank-You Of Sorts

I’m not posting this under a cut, because I think if I did, I’d segue into just saving it as a draft, and I’ve put too much feeling into it to allow myself to do that. You needn’t read it if you don’t want, seeing as it’s not fic haha

So, I jumped into the Closer when season six (or perhaps the tail end of five) was airing. I was in high school at the time and had just finished BSG with my dad. (For some reason, he picked it out on Netflix and it became our Thing.) I had a boyfriend at the time and wanted to go to school for veterinary medicine or theater. I lived in a small, Christian, agricultural town.

Went to college. Watched the Closer with my freshman roommate. Early on in freshman year, one of us printed out a photo of Sharon standing in the murder room with arms crossed, captioned “go ahead, make my day, motherfucker.” I switched majors, broke up with the boyfriend, broke my leg, and helped my gay childhood friend move to LA, debating the whole drive over if I could tell him I thought I might be gay.

My old roommate and I would get together to watch Major Crimes when she moved out of the dorms-excuse me, residence halls- and I was an RA. That went on all the way through undergrad. It was a great study break and we’d laugh our collective asses off at Provenza and Amy Sykes.

I got my EMT and started work. I went through I think seven jobs during undergrad- pharmaceutical research, RAing, waitressing, EMTing, teaching. Sharon kept working hard hours and I thought about that walking home at three in the morning after my shift and before my eight am class. I had a four-inch pathophys book, and a cop who’d pulled someone over took a moment to make sure I was okay, since girls walking alone at that hour was rather odd.

I went to church and cycled through belief and agnosticism several times and still ended up as President of our ministry group, in the choir, and on the church board. (I rather liked being a madam president.) I dated and broke up with another lovely boy, still confused about my labels. I felt bad about it, and Rusty came out as gay to Sharon.

I joined a rugby team and found another family. They were loud and gay and straight and bi and genderfluid and cis and wild and brilliant and quiet and loud and pushed me to my limits. They cared about my diabetes and I started to stop hiding it for the first time ever. I felt good. Gay stopped being such a strange concept to me.

My roommate and I graduated. I moved out of state and started grad school.  We live-texted through the episodes. Sharon ran into cops who hated her guts, crying people, and hard situations and she dealt with it professionally. Sharon Raydor was a fucking badass, a strong woman who did her best with her circumstances. I didn’t have many women like that. My mom, of course, but not many other women. The rest of my family lives across the country, and is pretty small. Both my mum’s parent’s are only children and she has one brother with no children. I have four cousins on my dad’s side and one brother.

Sharon was like that crazy aunt that (I think) you love because she does what she wants and needs. She’ll tell you all the stuff you don’t talk about with your mom. She reminded me of the ministry pastor, who probably helped me more in college than she’ll ever know, in more than just a spiritual way. I kind of got known for going off about “that woman with the voice,” as my mom calls her.

HE got elected. I had a horrible staph infection at the time. I ended up crying with my gay microbiology professor, worried about the future. I marched the next day with a glittery, rainbow sign that said “I shall stand for love.”

Mary McDonnell got an instagram somewhere along the line and said things that felt good to hear, reassuring me that there were people out there who still cared about other people.

I nearly quit school a few times, wrote a fic about Sharon seeing a shrink which pushed me to nut up and see a shrink after debating it for three years, graduated, and spent four months trying to get a job. I made some friends online through the fandom, and that’s pretty sweet. I love having fellow nerds that I can geek with.

I get hit on by people and patients. I got called “hot blonde with the braids,” “hot little shit,” and “sweetheart” in that tone of voice. A coworker asked me the definition of cunnilingus as a pick up line. And every time it happens, I take a deep breath and think “Sharon would have had to put up with this before it was so common for women to be in uniform. What would she have done?” And that’s a comfort and a good way to think things through. I feel braver for her existence, for her character. I feel better for seeing Sharon go through hard times and come out on top.

I’m saving for school again. It feels good. And I think I owe her a thank you. What she represents. A thank you to Mary McDonnell as well, for bringing her to life and influencing her, because every character has some of their actor in them. Every actor brings personality and body language and inflection to a character, often has input on the character and their make-up and costuming.

I still have the photo clipped to my calendar, right next to a Mother Goose & Grimm and above my work schedule.

Thank you.

[littlefoxywrites]

I have a 12/19 fic planned. . . but I worked today and so it’s not written yet. Regardless. #sharonraydorlives

[sarking]

[sarking]

[sarking]

Author's note: This was written, but not posted, in 2016 for an amalgamation of several lgbtfest prompts. It's set around the beginning of season five, but got a little jossed by the Gus and Rusty handholding incident.

Contains: Mothership, bisexual Sharon Raydor, vague allusions to past biphobia or homophobia

Rusty slides halfway onto one of the chairs at the dining table, his knee on the seat and his hands folded on the tabletop. He's fidgeting, and Sharon turns a page in her magazine, pretending not to notice he's gauging her mood and trying to decide if he wants to speak.

It's another three paragraphs before he says, "Can I, um, talk to you about something?"

Sharon looks up, head tilted and a small smile on her face. "You may," she says, keeping her tone warm but teasingly formal. 

"Okay. Um." He presses his lips together as he searches for where to begin. "Do you -- okay, first, if this is weird or in any way makes you uncomfortable, then just tell me and we can totally forget about it."

Sharon tries not to let her concern show on her face. "You can talk to me about anything."

Rusty takes a deep breath. "Okay. So you -- you know what Pride is, right? Like the parade?"

Sharon nods. Her concern has faded, and now it's hard to hold back at smile at Rusty's belief in her naiveté.

"Well, Gus wants to go." He hesitates, like he's waiting to see if Sharon is on the same page.

"And you don't?"

Rusty opens, then closes, his mouth. His eyes narrow and look off to the side as he thinks. "I don't know," he says finally. "It's not like I'm ashamed or anything, but it's just that Pride seems really, really commercial. Like it's just a bunch of brand names in rainbow colors, but what do they actually do for... for people like I used to be? They're not helping gay kids or trans kids. They're just asking us to celebrate that they'll take our money."

Something in Sharon's chest tightens -- it always does when Rusty mentions his time on the streets -- but at the same time, she feels very proud of the socially conscious young man he is showing himself to be.

"That is true," Sharon allows. "However, that itself can be considered a sign of progress. When I was your age, most companies wouldn't dare show us support for fear it would hurt their bottom line. The fact that they now do so to improve it -- however distasteful that may be -- is a remarkable indicator of how society has changed over the last several decades."

"I guess," Rusty says, with no enthusiasm whatsoever. "It's just that I don't know if I'm comfortable with -- wait, what? Us? When you were my age?" He scrunches up his face in confusion. "Sharon, you're straight."

Sharon raises her eyebrows and slips out of her seat, taking her coffee mug and breakfast plate with her. "Am I?" she asks, carrying the dishes into the kitchen.

"You were married," Rusty says, and Sharon hears him turn in his chair, plant his palms against the table for balance. "You have kids. You're dating Andy Flynn."

Sharon hums as she rinses crumbs off her plate. "I've also dated women." The plate clinks when she sets it in the metal dish drainer.

Behind her, Rusty sputters. "Sharon!" She doesn't need to turn around to know just what expression is on his face. "You're -- and you didn't tell me?" He pauses. "So, wait, are you bi? Or pan? Or are you one of those people who doesn't do labels? Because I've seen our storage space, and I would find that really, really hard to believe."

Sharon smiles as she pours another cup of coffee. "Labels are useful," she says. "And the one I prefer is bi."

Rusty is quiet for a moment, and Sharon leans back against the counter, waiting for him to put together his thoughts. She knows his mind is teeming with questions, can even guess what most of them are, but when he turns around, the one he asks first goes straight to her heart.

"Would you want to go to Pride with us?"

She blinks back tears. "I would like that very, very much," she says, her voice rougher than she'd like. "But..."

"Oh." Rusty looks down, but she can still feel his disappointment. "So... who knows?"

"My parents," she says slowly, the memory of telling them still enough to make her stomach flutter with nerves. "Ricky and Emily, of course. Jack. Several people I've dated..." She remembers each little coming out as she says the names, and more than anything, she wishes today's could make her smile. "And now you."

She can see him frown as he runs through the names, cross-referencing them with the list of people in her life.

"You know they'd still love you, right?"

Sharon manages a twitch of a smile, the smallest acknowledgement of his words. They would, she knows, but there are too many things from the past that can't be erased. Echoes she still hears, even in halls where the words were never said.

She clears her throat and turns back to the sink, brushing the counter clean of crumbs that aren't there. She turns on the water and brightens her voice. "So does this mean you're going to go with Gus, then?"

"Yeah," Rusty says, his tone switching as effortlessly as hers. "I mean, I guess if it means a lot to him, I can put my principles aside for one little parade." 

Sharon laughs, picturing the rolling eyes that accompany his put-upon sigh. "You should let him know."

The keyboard on his phone is already going click click click when Rusty slides his chair back from the table. "Yeah," he mumbles, but then the clicking stops. "You know if you change your mind..."

She won't, but she does know. And one day, that might be enough to make her smile.

[mksc77]

A Better Ending

I started writing this exactly a year ago, haha. It is really rushed and a product of disgusted rage, so the writing quality isn’t all that good, but I feel confident in saying that it’s better than what we actually got. It was completed before the season was over, and I think some people were even avoiding fanfic then, so you may have missed it.

Picks up at the end of the episode that didn’t happen. Most people think Sharon’s dead, but she faked her death to help get Stroh and to keep him from harming her children as a means of distracting her from him. Sharon still gets a PROPER (though fake, but most don’t know that) funeral, and the Stroh ending (while even more rushed than the rest of the story) actually reflects Sharon’s ideals, unlike the show.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12766376/1/A-Better-Ending

[sarking]