This is the first work co-written by SChimes, Rosabelle, Lizinnv, HereThereBeAngst, and DaughterOfAres. We were all very unhappy with Rusty's CRIMINAL behavior in Targets of Opportunity (4x07). Very, very, unhappy. We're hoping the show fixes that for us, but we couldn't wait for that, so we wrote this story!

This was going to be a oneshot, but that didn't work out because we had to put ALL our feels in there. So now there will be three chapters instead ;). We hope you enjoy!

Fit to the Crime

"Ah. Rusty." Lieutenant Provenza spotted him almost as soon as he'd entered the murder room, his jovial tone stopping the boy in his tracks. "Good, I was hoping you'd drop by today." He wriggled his fingers in a 'come here' gesture.

Rusty gave him a distracted look. "Uh, hello Lieutenant. Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm actually just here to drop off Sharon's phone charger, and I'm kind of in a hurry, so..."

"This won't take long," Provenza interrupted with a casual handwave and friendly smile. "But you're just the young man I wanted to talk to."

Rusty sighed. "Is this about your cactus hat stand again?" he guessed, "because I swear, I looked all over the condo and it's not there, and there was definitely nothing left in TJ's truck, so if you can't find it in the storage unit, it's gotta still be at your house – "

"This isn't about the hat stand," grumbled Provenza. Getting up from his chair, he gave the boy a long look. "Let's talk."

"Actually, TJ's kind of waiting for me, I'm supposed to meet him at – "

"I'm sure he won't mind," declared Provenza. "He seemed like a patient fellow." He smiled pleasantly, ignoring Rusty's eye roll. "Why don't you send him a text message and ask him to wait a little."

Rusty opened his mouth to protest, but seeing the lieutenant's determined look, he gave up. "Fine," he sighed, resigned. "But I really can't stay long, okay?"

Provenza let out an indistinct rumble under his breath. "Well, now, that would depend on you, I'd say. Could be anything from, oh, half hour, to... three to fourteen months, probably."

"...what?" The boy gave him a confused look.

With a wry twist of his lips, the lieutenant put a hand on Rusty's shoulder. "Come with me," he commanded, and with his other hand he grabbed a thick folder off the desk, "I want some place more private for this little chat."

With resignation – and a small amount of trepidation, because the lieutenant was acting a little...weird – Rusty allowed himself to be maneuvered to the break room. He waited impatiently while Lt. Provenza checked that the room was empty, and wondered what was so important that it required so much privacy and preparation.

He didn't wonder too hard...there was a small voice at the back of his head telling him to avoid too much speculation. Provenza had been a detective a really long time. Hiding anything from him was nearly impossible.

"Well...?" he asked, once the lieutenant had closed the door.

Provenza returned a pleasant smile and pointed to one of the chairs at table.

Rusty rolled his eyes, again, but sat down as bidden. With a deliberate lack of hurry, the lieutenant sat down across from him.

"Well, Rusty..." he started with a slow, thoughtful nod. "Having observed your progress as an investigative reporter... I think it's time to give you a very valuable piece of information about working with the police. Information," he added, "that's sure to come in useful for your future career."

Huh. That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Rusty gave him a slightly confused look, "Okay...?"

Provenza place the folder he'd brought along on top of the table. "Everything in a police station revolves around paperwork," he said gravely. "No matter what you do – and believe me, I've spent most of my career trying – there's no getting away from it. Paperwork," he sighed, "is everywhere."

Rusty waited for him to continue, but when the silence stretched on for more than a few seconds, he pulled a face: "...wait, that's it? You called me here to tell me about paperwork...?"

"Yes. You see...like I said, it's everywhere." He opened the folder, his fingers moving the pages lazily. As time passed he continued browsing the papers seemingly aimlessly before sighing. "Police stations are required to keep endless records of everything... not just cases and interviews and evidence, but records of incoming tips, of actionable tips, field interviews, background checks..."

Provenza kept his head bent over of the folder, but his eyes looked up, over the rims of his glasses. The piercing, knowing look had Rusty's heart rate increasing; he knew that the way his eyes widened was all the confession that the Lieutenant would need to know he was right.

It took two tries for him to swallow his nervousness properly.

"Ah!" Provenza pulled a page from the folder as though he'd found something of particular interest. His smile was deceivingly cordial. "This, for example, is an action form for following up on a sighting of "Rico" at a gas station on the 110. You remember – from the action center you helped at two days ago."

Still smiling, he slid the form over to Rusty. His hand tapped against the table a couple of times. "I'm sure this looks familiar, you must've seen hundreds of them that day." He returned to the folder, but barely looked at it contents before pulling out another paper. "And this, is a form requesting a background check on a person of interest... in this case, one... Gustavo Wallace."

Rusty was determined not to squirm. He was not a criminal. He was a professional journalist. He had used the only resources available to him to gain information. Sure he'd had to do it behind the backs of people he cared for and respected, but they'd have tried to stop him...

Provenza placed this paper on top of the one already sitting in front of him, and tapped it a couple of times with a crinkled finger before speaking. "Now, does that name sound familiar? It should. By some interesting coincidence, the same name appears in your latest … vlog." The lieutenant's tongue was unaccustomed to that word and it wrapped oddly around it with characteristic disdain and confusion. A second later, however, had him back to his knowing smile. "I love coincidences, don't you, Rusty?"

Rusty felt his cheeks begin to burn. When he lowered his head, his eyes locked onto the name he'd come to hate already. He swallowed twice before trying to speak, but his voice sounded choked anyway. "Are you going to tell Sharon?"

The scoff that followed that question contained no humor. "Oh, we're nowhere near that point of our conversation yet. But... speaking of Sharon." Provenza pulled out another document from the folder. "Do you see this? This is another record, authorizing all those background checks and action forms from two days ago. Guess whose signature is at the bottom there."

Rusty didn't want to look. He could guess whose signature it was, though he couldn't quite figure out the connection. As the lieutenant continued to wait, with an expectant look, he knew he had to make some sort of reply. It didn't take long for his eyes to land on the signature at the bottom of the paper. His stomach tightened and coiled into knots. It was Sharon's.

"Now... imagine, that... hypothetically speaking... one of those background checks," Provenza gestured to the folder with a wave of his hand, "say, into your friend Gustavo for example... imagine that it came to light that that check was done illegally. That the LAPD," the Lieutenant's speech took on a slight edge has he slowly articulated the rest of his sentence, "accessed the National Crime Information Center database for information about a civilian from another state, without just cause... which by the way, is expressly forbidden by a federal statute which makes is a federal crime – "

Rusty felt his breath catch and it took him a second to remember how to breathe, "Oh my god – what?"

"–and that Captain Raydor signed off on it. Who do you think would be held responsible for that?"

Rusty was shaking his head and squirmed for a moment before he began bouncing in his chair out of sheer panic. "What? No! No! Lieutenant – okay, I get it, that was an awful thing to do, I'm really – I'm sorry! Please tell me that's not true, okay? It's – Sharon can't – this has nothing to do with her! She didn't do anything wrong!"

Provenza calmly shook his head and gestured to the form with Sharon's signature. "It's her signature on that file, Rusty – not to mention that she's the one who allowed you to stay and volunteer, and, she's your mother. So, legally – "

"Oh my god!"

"– 'oh my god' is right, son," the kind explanatory tone had vanished without warning, and Rusty mentally cringed away from the stern tone that was now being directed at him. "Because this isn't something you can undo. Like I said, it's all written right there in black and white, and entered into record."

Rusty's heels bounced against the floor. He was shaking his head trying to think of an intelligent argument. Grasping at any passing thought that would fix the problem he'd created. But his brain couldn't seem to move past the blind panic. "I – just, please, Lieutenant, I understand, but Sharon can't be responsible for this, okay? I did everything, she doesn't even know! And…and – I didn't know that all of that could happen!"

Provenza's stern look didn't falter, and he maintained the same hard even tone. "I'm afraid, Rusty, that the law doesn't make those distinctions." His tone softened slightly, and with a single blink the lieutenant's expression changed. The knowing look was filled with sad disappointment. "And I think" he nodded slightly, his eyebrows raised and lowered as though agreeing with himself, "you knew that filling out that form was wrong."

Rusty blinked against the tears that began to form at seeing the disappointment in the Lieutenant's expression. He tried to focus on the papers in front of him, and spread them out unevenly. The tears and pounding heart made the words impossible to read. How did this happen? Sharon would hate him forever if he got her fired. Or worse.

"I know I made a big mistake. I know that." Rusty kept his head down pretending to focus on the papers he couldn't read. "I knew it was a mistake when I did it, I... don't know what I was thinking."

"That much is clear." The disappointed tone was replaced with the stern one. "But you didn't make a mistake. Picking up the wrong coffee order is a mistake. Going to see Slider in jail... that was a mistake. This, Mr. Beck... this is a crime." The pause brought Rusty's eyes up to meet the Lieutenant's stern glare once more. "We get a lot of people in here who have to learn that difference the hard way."

Rusty sniffed as surreptitiously as he could, and ended up using the sleeve of his jacket to rub his nose. "I understand. I swear. Lieutenant, I'm – I'm so sorry. If I'd known..."

"I'm not so convinced that you do understand." Provenza shook his head disbelievingly. "You know, I'd have thought that you'd learned your lesson when you got yourself and your mother subpoenaed... But it seems to me that you're trying your best now to get both of you arrested."

"No!" Nononono…that wasn't what he wanted! He wanted to find out Alice's real name. He wanted to make Sharon proud of him. He wanted to show her – everyone really – that he'd learned what dedication to a seemingly hopeless cause meant. Somehow, he didn't think that being arrested was the right way to go about that. Sharon would never forgive him. "Lieutenant – please...!"

Provenza sighed and shook his head sadly. He began returning the papers to the folder slowly with a grave expression more fitting a funeral than the harsh break room lighting.

Rusty watched him solemnly close the folder; for all the weight and finality it carried it should have sounded like a book slamming or a gravel banging harshly against a table. But it closed silently without even the rustle of a stray paper.

"Luckily for you..." Provenza's hand rested on top of the folder, " the fact that this happened during a manhunt for Rico, with a dozen tips coming every minute, makes it near impossible to prove the lack of cause." He paused for a moment, "Of course, you knew that, too. You deliberately misused the resources you'd been trusted with because you knew how unlikely it was you'd be caught."

Rusty felt his cheeks burning again. How did the Lieutenant always know.

"And it just so happens" Provenza continued, "that arrest and criminal records are a matter of public record – which means you could've gotten all this information with a call to Maryland. Or some time spent on a search engine."

Rusty's head snapped up. What? No. That wasn't...that wasn't possible. Was it? Had he really risked going to jail for no reason? He could get Sharon arrested for finding information that was openly accessible to everyone?

"And you misusing police resources this way isn't a federal crime," Provenza clarified, "but a class two misdemeanor, since you aren't an officer. Although," sharp eyes accompanied with a warning frown seemed to stare straight through Rusty, "it would be a federal crime if your mother took responsibility for it. You better not forget that, Rusty."

"I won't. I..." Rusty shook his head. He could feel his jaw quivering. "I will never do something this stupid again."

"You listen to me, son," Provenza's narrowed eyes showed that no mercey would be forthcoming. "I know this Alice story is important to you – and I know how much effort you're putting into it. But you'd better take a step back and give some serious thought to your priorities, and to what you're willing to sacrifice to get those answers you're looking for. Because right now, you're skating on some pretty thin ice – and I'm not sure you're aware of what's going to happen if it breaks under you." There was a flash of anger in the Lieutenant's expression, "And maybe think about how what you're doing is affecting other people, for a change. I'm not just talking about the Captain, either – each and every one of us trusted you to be around the murder room, and I'm not impressed with the outcome of our show of faith."

"I'm sorr–"

Provenza waved off the apology. "As for your mother," He leaned forward his finger pointing at Rusty, "don't make the mistake of thinking that the love and trust she places in you make you somehow immune from consequences."

"I don't–"

Provenza leaned back in his chair, his stern look never wavering despite Rusty's attempted apologies. "Because even if you don't get her in trouble – and trust me, your actions are likely to, at this rate – eventually, that kind of thinking might end up putting her in the position of having to choose between letting a crime go on your permanent record, or trying to do a cover-up for your sake." The lieutenant's jaw clenched before he continued, "How do you imagine she'd feel about either of those options?"

Rusty's stomach churned unhappily. He didn't want to imagine.

It wasn't lost on him, either, that the lieutenant had probably confronted a similar choice, right before their conversation.

When Provenza leaned forward again, his voice was slightly warmer, and the sharp edge was tempered with kindness. "You know I'm your friend, Rusty." He waited for Rusty to nod, and meet his eyes. "A very good friend. That's why I hope you've learned a lesson today. Because the next time, you might have this conversation in an interview room, and it won't be nearly as friendly."

Rusty nodded again. The shame and embarrassment mixed with a very real sort of fear, now.

With one last shake of his head, Provenza pushed his chair back, and got up.

Rusty swallowed hard. "I have to tell Sharon about this...?" It came out as a question because a small part of him pointlessly hoped that the lieutenant would tell him 'no'. That there was no need to discuss this with Sharon. Even though he knew better...

Provenza's eyebrows arched, and the lines around his mouth softened, though he didn't smile. His shoulders relaxed when he sighed. "That's one part of this that I can't help you with. You're going to have to deal with that consequence on your own, Rusty." He paused and Rusty decided he must make a pitiful picture because the Lieutenant almost looked sorry for him. "But I'll tell you this... the longer you wait, the worse it'll get."

Rusty nodded, his lip quivering. Somehow, he'd managed not to cry, but as his stomach continued to knot and plummet towards the floor which helped give his heart plenty of room to pound in his chest. How could he even begin to tell Sharon about this? He'd rather have to tell her his other mom escaped from jail or something.

"Lieutenant..." His voice was quivering, but he managed to get the word out.

Provenza turned around, slowly. There was no anger in his expression, which somehow made Rusty feel worse. His eyes held only disappointment.

Rusty swallowed hard. "...Thank you. I..." He forced himself to look the Lieutenant in the eyes. "Thank you for..." There weren't good words to say it, so he just waved his hand vaguely between the two of them, "...this."

"You better do some serious thinking, Rusty." A finger pointed in his direction again, but the irritation coupled with sympathy couldn't cover the older man's disappointed tone. "Or I'm not seeing good things down the road."

Rusty nodded.

The lieutenant watched him for a moment. Rusty wished he wouldn't. The longer the lieutenant looked at him with sad blue eyes overwhelmed with disappointment the worse Rusty felt. Eventually, with a final shake of his head Provenza turned and left the breakroom. The door closed gently behind him with a solid click.

Left alone in the breakroom, Rusty put both elbows on the table, and passed his hands through his hair with a sort of dejected desperation. Not only did Lt. Provenza's words weigh heavily on his mind – with his heart still pounding at the thought of having actually done something illegal, because he wasn't like that, and it terrified him to think just how easily he'd done it, too... But more than that, panic of the worst sort constricted his throat when he thought about coming clean to Sharon.

He didn't want to.

But he couldn't not.

He couldn't even think about her reaction, without cringing.

If two days previous he'd imagined himself in this place, now, faced with having to tell Sharon about what he'd done, he'd never have gone through with it. He wished for the hundredth time that he could turn back the clock and do things differently.

...but as the lieutenant had said, this wasn't something he could undo. He'd have to go home that evening, and somehow, stand in front of Sharon and tell her the truth about what he'd done. He couldn't even begin to think of the right words.

Rubbing both hands against his burning cheeks, he leaned over the table, and let the dread wash over him.

Thank you for making it this far! Thoughts on the first chapter? If you can guess which author did which parts, we'll give you internet cookies ;) (not the ones DoA makes, so don't worry).