A/N: Hey all. I worked long and hard on this one, I wanted to get it just right. So what do you think? I think it's just a one shot, but I could be convinced to continue if you're into it. Let me know, and thanks!
He gets out of the hospital today.
I'm practically bouncing off the walls of my apartment, I'm so excited. Emily looks at me like I've grown a second head as I bounce into the kitchen, pour myself and cup of coffee and wish her a very happy morning. So, I'm not always a morning person, but my energy this morning is infectious.
As I arrive back in my bedroom, I place my coffee cup on the dresser and pull open the closet doors. I survey my options, deciding on jeans, a black sweater, and my favourite black leather jacket. Simple, pretty, but not trying too hard.
While pulling on my jeans, I think back over the last little while, remembering everyone's doubts. Doubts that he would never be able to walk again, or that he'd be unable to work. Nobody really believed in him, nobody but me that is. Probably because no one really knows him like I do. I knew it would take more than a few bullets to stop him, and I was right. As I slip on my sweater and adjust it, I glance in the mirror.
I wince slightly at the dark circles under my eyes and my pale complexion. It probably doesn't help that I was awake all night, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep for the anticipation. I feel like a 5-year-old on Christmas, and honestly sort of silly. But I can hardly wait to see his face when he gets out of that hospital. After a little bit of foundation and some eye-liner, I smile at my appearance, it's amazing what a little make-up will do. I am single now after all, and lately for some reason, for the first time in all the years we've been partners, it matters to me what he thinks of the way I look.
How long have I been in love with my partner?
Well, not long really.
Granted, he's always had a very special place in my heart. Somewhere around where I keep my children and slightly around the level my husband. In light of recent events, especially in terms of my divorce, the husband part of the equation bottomed right out. This tends to happen when someone leaves you for another woman I guess. All these years, I should have suspected at least once that I was actually in love with him.
I realized just how important his place was in my heart a couple of weeks ago, just after he woke up from the coma, and I was visiting him. I'd been doing really well at keeping it all inside, you know? The divorce, everything. Once I got talking to him all the stuff about the divorce just came out.
I never really realized how important it is for me to tell him things, to share those intimate details of my life. Through my tears, I came to this realization, solidified by the feeling of his hand on mine.
As he looked at me with those sympathetic blue eyes, and told me that Fred was stupid, watched me cry over the thought of losing my kids, it hit me all of sudden.
I missed him. I missed having him in my life, and I needed him there to talk to. I knew that after all these years, I had always been in love with him. When he put his hand over top of mine, it clinched the deal for good. This wasn't going to be easy.
I called her last night. As soon as they told me I could leave the next day, I knew it was her I'd have to call. It briefly occurred to me to call my Ma, but when I picked up that phone my fingers automatically dialled that number I know by heart.
After hanging up, I lay awake in my hospital bed, staring out the window. It was finally happening! Tomorrow I would walk outta this place with my partner by my side. The moment I saw the shooters in the window, and realized that she was still standing in the middle of the room, I thought there was a distinct possibility that one of us would never leave this hospital alive. Here we are though, ready for tomorrow when we both leave this joint in one piece. The funny thing is that I would do it again in a heartbeat.
As the morning lit up my window pane, the light sparkled on the condensation that covered the surface. The day had dawned shiny and new, the perfect day for the rest of my life to start. I climbed carefully out of bed, groaning slightly at my aches and pains which were now a fact of life. I'm recovered, sure. But I'll always have the scars and pains to remind me of the best and worst decision I've ever made.
I rummage around in the duffel bag my mom brought in a little while ago, and pick out some jeans and a shirt. I shuffle into the bathroom and look in the mirror. My bandage on my face is slightly askew, so I carefully readjust it to cover the angry red marks. I sigh, wishing vainly that it wasn't so bad. How was I supposed to get anyone to look at me anymore without remembering the incident? Lots of people, well girls actually, have told me my face is one of my best assets. I wonder what they'd say now if they saw me without the bandage. Not that it really matters, the only girl I aim to impress these days has seen me a lot worse. I run my fingers through my hair, silently cursing myself for not thinking about getting it cut. I arrange it as best as I can, and hope that she doesn't really notice.
How long have I been in love with my partner?
Probably since the very first time I ever saw her. I definitely didn't realize it then, but I'm told I'm pretty dense about these things. Let's just say, if I had a dollar for every time a woman screamed at me and told me I wouldn't know love if it jumped out and bit me, I wouldn't still be living in a one bedroom apartment.
Any ways, back to her. I saw her there, in front of the academy, with that radiant smile and wearing her optimism on her sleeve. Being the jag-off that I was then, I went up to her and made a jerky comment to get her attention. I guess it must have worked, because since then she's always been a part of my life.
I have no complaints about being her partner. Every so often, when the work would start getting me down, I'd just have to watch her, and suddenly I was a believer again. Sure I would joke around with the "let's join hands and sing a rousing chorus of 'We Are the World'" and give her a hard time, but secretly I admired her. Her belief in people being better, or that she could single-handedly help the whole city. Not to mention, she also held her family together, and took care of all my stupid mistakes. She made the firm believer out of me, she made me want to come into work every day. So I admired her, I was always there for her, but I never realized that I was in love with her. I guess taking bullets for someone really puts things in perspective.
It all became shockingly clear one day she came to visit me in the hospital. I was feeling pretty groggy and tired, but was happy to see someone other than my Ma. I knew something was wrong the moment she walked in the room, I can read her like an open book. She kept the banter light at first, but eventually told me that Fred was leaving her. I couldn't believe what a fool this man was. How could he let someone like her get away from him? I told her that he was stupid. Then she started to cry. Those proud, strong green eyes were like waterfalls, and I felt my own heart ache for her. More than anything I wanted to gather her up in my arms and shush her, soothe away the tears. We'd never really had a touchy-feely partnership, but I knew I had to do something. I reached out and put my hand over hers. As I looked up into that sad face, I knew I wanted to help her, and she told me how much she'd missed me. I'd missed her too, lying in this stupid bed all that time. But all I could do was just hold her hand, and I knew I'd do anything for her, this partner that I was actually in love with. I was so overcome that I just lay there, staring at her, and holding onto her hand like my life depended on it.
I walked into his room, and there he is, wiggling into a sweater. It's so good to see him standing! As he stands up, his bandage falls off. Emily gasps to see the vivid red scar on his cheek. To be honest, it shocked me a fair bit too. He quickly retreated into the bathroom to fix it, and I gather my composure. Emily apologizes for her slip, but I hardly blame her, you can't really miss the scar. I introduce Emily to his mom, Rose.
As he emerges from the bathroom, bandage intact, his doctor comes into the room, followed by an orderly pushing a wheel-chair. He looks at it with disdain, quickly telling her that he doesn't need the chair. She shoots him down immediately, "It's hospital procedure"
"It's not happenin', I'm not getting in that thing." He says. I cover my grin.
"Well, we're having chicken fingers for lunch. If you're staying I can order you a plate." She replies with a smirk. I almost laugh out loud at that one. I've never heard anyone match him like that, other than me.
With a sigh of resignation, he walks towards the chair, thanking his doctor and sitting down. "Home." he says, and the orderly rolls him out into the hallway. He jokingly wishes the nurses a nice life as he passes by.
The orderly stops the wheel-chair by the elevators and tells him he'll be just a minute. I know what's about to happen.
"Emily," he says softly.
"Mhmm?"
"Can you push that elevator button for me?"
Emily walks over to the button and pushes it.
"I'm walking outta here, Faith."
I almost burst with pride and happiness for him. My throat is tight. This is the partner I know and love.
"I know you are." I reply.
"Without any help." He clarifies as his mom moves to help him stand.
One step. Another. He makes it on to the elevator just as the orderly rushes the door.
"You can have his chicken fingers." I say, grinning hugely as the doors slowly slide shut.
My whole body is shaking, and I can barely keep my breath. I have to do this though, show everyone that I can walk out of this damn hospital.
As we exit the hospital, I feel the cold New York air on my skin for the first time in months. It's wonderful. I've never appreciated this city as much as in this moment. My legs are aching, and my breaths are almost in gasps, but it is worth it. To be walking with my partner out of this hospital. I'm so happy she's here today. I look up at her, "Where did you park?" I ask expectantly, hoping it's close, so I can make it before my legs give out.
A smile lights her pretty face, and she replies "Right out front," and points towards lane-way. I look towards the front drive, and there are a bunch of NYPD squads. My throat tightens as I recognize the RMP parked closest to us. "That's 55-David." I'm over come with emotions so powerful, I can barely breathe. There so many officers from the 55, standing there, saluting me. It's probably the moment of my life that I will remember until I die. I look at her, still slightly in shock.
"How did you do that?" I ask, my throat tight.
"What did you think? I wasn't going to go all out for my partner?" She replies, smiling ear to ear.
"Thank you," I whisper, and wrap my arms around her in a hug. "Thank you, Faith."
"Come on, we gotta hurry up before Swersky finds out," She says as she seems somewhat reluctant to break the hug. "How about I let you play with the lights and sirens? How does that sound?"
Ma and Emily climb into the B-car, and she tells the Officers to drop them off at home. She climbs into the back of 55-David, gesturing for me to take the passenger seat. I smile, climbing into the familiar seat. The seat-belt is a ridiculous tangle of twists, and the officer in the back from the second watch quips "Don't try to untangle it. It's impossible. It just stays that way anyways."
I smile. "I know. I think someone might have done it so many times, it's not likely to ever be the same." I look into the rear-view mirror and catch her eye, giving her a wink. She laughs quietly, looking somewhat pleased that after all this time, her mark is still on 55-David. The other officer from the second watch, a tall guy named Officer Frasier, climbs into the driver's seat and starts up the RMP. I wish she could drive, but that would be pushing it slightly. All the same it's our car. It's always been our car. It's like I'm home already.
She tells Frasier the address to my apartment, and I breathe a sigh of relief as we pull away from the hospital. I hope the next time I'm here, I'm here as an officer, not a patient.
I watch him slowly clamber from the RMP, knowing better than to try and help him. He has to do it his own way, always. When we're both on the sidewalk, we wave to the second watch Officers as they drive off to finish their shift.
I look at him, "Ready to see your place again, Bos?"
He gives me a small smile in return, "I've never been more ready."
He gives me a shocked look as I link arms with him and walk towards his building. To my surprise he doesn't pull away, but walks along beside me, apparently deep in thought. I get little butterflies in my stomach being able to be this close to him.
We take the elevator to the 6th floor of his building, and make our way down the hall to his apartment. As we approach his door, he pulls his arm away to rummage through his pockets.
"Shit." He curses under his breath. "My Ma has my apartment key."
"I can use mine, if you want. I think this qualifies as an emergency." I say, and unzip the small pocket in the back of my purse. A moment later I pull out the key attached to a key-chain with a small silver B on it. I blush slightly.
"You still have it?" He seems surprised.
"What, you think I would just toss it in the garbage or something?" I pass him the key.
"No, no." He looks briefly at the key chain and I see a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. "I'm glad I gave it to you." He turns the key in the lock and pushes the door open to the apartment. His mom and I had been here last night, dusting and cleaning up, so it looks pretty decent. He stands in the living room, surveying the room like it was new to him. He crossed the room and plopped down on the couch, clearly happy to be sitting. He pats the cushion next to him, motioning for me to sit down.
I join him, and swallow nervously, I'm not used to sitting this close to him. We're definitely at new place in this friendship...and I have no idea what to do from here.
It's like everything is right in the world. I'm home, in one piece, and sitting right next to me is her. And we're alone together in my apartment. Where do I start? What do I do? I chose to look at her, studying her expression carefully. She's sitting there, and she's never looked more perfect. She's chewing on her lip, examining her hands that are folded in her lap. I can tell she's nervous, but I'm not exactly sure why. If she knew what I was thinking, I bet she'd be a hell of a lot more nervous. Suddenly, it occurs to me that she could be thinking the same as me. It's not impossible, and I've sensed something different between us. She did just arrange the best surprise in the world for me. Do I tell her? Tell her what it meant to me? What she means to me?
The old Bosco would probably make some snarky comment, and start yammering about getting back to work. My mind flicks back to this morning in the hospital bed, when I resolved that this would be the first day of the rest of my life. New Bosco doesn't pass up opportunities like this. I wasn't going to go another day without letting her know. It's funny that it took a few bullets to change my perspective, but the Boscorelli mindset isn't swayed by just anything. Inspiration strikes me, and I rummage through my pockets.
I pull out her key to my apartment, the B key-chain dancing and glittering in the light sifting through the window blinds. She looks up questioningly.
"Here's your key back." I state simply, and press it into her silky-smooth palm.
"It's your key Bos, you can keep it." She says, clearly confused. "We're not partners any more, I doubt I'll need it for emergencies."
"I want you to have it, Faith. So you can come over here when you want to." I state slowly, hoping she'll catch my drift. She still seems puzzled.
"I'll come visit you any time Bos, but I'll call first, or something. You might have someone over if I just came barging in..." She stops looking down at her hands again.
I shrug nonchalantly. Keeping my eyes on her, I draw a breath, trying to steady my nerves. "My girlfriend shouldn't have to call to come visit my apartment."
Her head quickly snaps up, and her green eyes are wide open. "Your what?"
Please let this work! I pray silently. I put my palm to her cheek and lean in. And I kiss her.
My stomach bottoms out, she doesn't kiss me back at first. She suddenly seems to overcome her shock, and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me deeper into the kiss. I'm elated. Why didn't we do this sooner?
I pull back reluctantly, and smile at her breathless expression. "I hope this means you'll be my girlfriend..." I look at her questioningly.
"I'd be happy to." She says, smiling back at me. She pulls me into a tight hug, and I feel pretty content. So this is what it's all about.
"I owe you so much, Faith. Thank you. For everything you do." She squeezes me harder. I chuckle, and have to gasp for air a little. "You do know I was shot right?" I manage to get it out, even though she's practically crushing my ribs.
She lets me out of the hug, but holds on to my hands.
"Like you'll ever let me forget it." She says, rolling her eyes.
I grin, and slap my hand to my heart, acting offended. "Way to treat your knight in shining amour, Princess."
"Call me Princess, one more time. I promise you'll get shot again." Her eyes spark with challenge, trying to act angry.
I laugh, and grab her in my arms, and push her down into the couch. And I kiss her again.
The End...