Entrapment

by Demelza

When a sniper shoots and near fatally wounds a police officer, it's up to his partner to find out who shot him, and at who's orders, without endangering her own life. (COMPLETE)

Title:  Entrapment
Author:  Demelza H. Watt
Email:  confounded@tw-gateway.net
Sequel/Prequel:  Sequel to 'Arms to Cry In'.  Followed by 'Master in a Cruel Game'.
Disclaimer:  I do not own Bosco and Faith, and any other of the Third Watch Characters.  And if I did, Bosco and Faith would be forever together!  They actually belong to John Wells and all them other people who own them...WB, NBC, etc,.  All new characters are of my own creation.
Warnings:  Strong use of violence and profanity, mild sexual references
Rating:  R
Summary:  When a sniper shoots and near fatally wounds a police officer, it's up to his partner to find out who shot him, and at whose orders without endangering her own life.
Author's Notes:  This is the absolutely COMPLETE story, I was going to release part two in its own entirety...but eh, there were a few things I wanted to change, so rather than re-posting it as two separate pieces, I decided to post it all in one go.
Author's Notes 2:  This story IS NOT for kids, it contains some very descriptive scenes of violence, and may offend some people.  Please read at your own discretion.
Dedication:  Written especially for Kich. :)  My many thanks to Angie and Bree for urging me, and urging me, and urging me, and urging me, to write more of this fic. :)  Couldn't have done it without your pushing me to finishing it, ladies.

December 15th

Corporal James Harley looked in the direction of the two police officers that sat in their car some twenty-three yards away.  He had been in the Army for three years before being dishonorably discharged.  His career started as a simple foot soldier before passing certain psychological and physical strength tests and joining one of the sniper teams.  Six months into the new unit, his mind had begun tearing him apart from the inside out.

James opened up the case next to him; it contained a long-range sniper rifle ready to assemble inside.  The makings of a great sniper, his commanding officer had told him; he'd fast move up in the ranks of the US army.  That was, until his mind started fucking with him.  He had taken on a vast number of assignments before being included in an elite team of assassins that his commanding officer was specially training him and four other men for.

So here he sat in his Ford Pickup, facing off with two unsuspecting police officers where he, unbeknownst to them, was ready to fulfill on his first assignment for Jason Malone, a cock-sucker from Florida Keys who hated cops more than any other man James had met before.  But Malone didn't just hate cops for no reason; he'd been in the ring of drug dealing, gun smuggling, and prostitution for more than thirty odd years now.  It was only in recent months when seventeen of his warehouses had been raided and closed down by the police department that he decided to get rid of those that threatened his business.

"Tick tick tock..." James lisped, over and over again as he quickly assembled his gun.  Within a matter of seconds, the rifle was together and sitting in the seat beside him.

With a simple maneuver, James had the dark window of his truck down and had his target in range, "Nighty night..." He closed one eye, leaned his head to the right as he looked through the green infrared scope, taking the officer in the left hand side of the car into his sights more clearly.  He had his finger on the trigger, and had just squeezed it when a strong wind gusted by, the shot went off.  He didn't want to see the results of his shot, and tossing the rifle into the seat beside him, he then brought the engine to life in one single turn. He put the truck into first then quickly slammed his foot on the gas pedal and went screaming out of there.

*      *      *      *

"So how did it go with Fred?"  Bosco asked.

Faith didn't look at him, she kept her eyes out on the road ahead of them.  "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."  He nodded, respecting her request.

Silence.

She let out a long sigh, turning to Bosco. "He's been seeing someone."

"What!?"

"I knew when we split it was over between us, but we both agreed we wouldn't see anyone else."

"For Em and Charlie?"  Bosco asked, Faith nodded.  "How did you find out?"

"I went over to get Charlie and Emily last night a half hour earlier than usual and she was there."

"God."

"What makes it worse, it was that vixen Linn...I knew she was more than just a good friend."

"Whoa, back the train up here, Fred's getting it on with Linn, as in 'we're only friends', Linn?"

"I always knew she was a slut," Faith remarked, bitterly.

"I thought she was married anyway."

She huffed. "Split a month after me and Fred.  I knew after the shooting something was going on, even before then, just the way she was always hanging around.  But no, he always swore to me, for the sake of the kids, he wasn't seeing anyone"

Bosco just shook his head.

Faith sighed again, "Charlie doesn't want to go back to Fred's, and I'm not sure what to do."

He turned to her. "Sitter?"

She nodded. "They cost, especially a really good one."

"Fred won't offer to help cover the costs?"  he asked, sounding angered.

"Huh!  You've gotta be joking me.  He won't...and I'm not sure I can afford it on my own.  Not with the rent, power and food each month.  I can scrape in, but I don't want Charlie to just go to any old sitter, I want a good one.  One I can trust."

"I don't mind helping with the costs, for Charlie."

She turned to look at him, "Boz, I could never ask you to do that."

"Just until you sort things out. Come on, Faith, I want to help."  She shook her head, but Bosco was insistent. "You can pay me back when he's old enough not to need one anymore."

"I don't want to use your money."

"Think of it as a gift then, for Charlie.  Please, Faith...I want to help.  And don't think I'll back down, because you know I'm not going to."

Faith smiled back at him, but it was one of those, 'I hate you for being so insistent' smiles. "Fine.  Thank you, Bosco.  I'll pay back every cent, I promise."

"I know you will," he grinned, turning his face away and looking across the street, just in time as to see the door opposite a building in the alley they were watching opened.  "There's our guy."

Faith put one hand on the steering wheel, and the other on the ignition; ready to move the moment the time to do so would arise.  "Where's he going?"

They watched the sandy-haired man as he closed the door behind him and walked a few steps out into the alley, where he stopped, and then turned to face the officers sitting in the car.  They were yards away from him, but still he stood there looking directly at them.  "What's this guy waiting for?"  Bosco asked a little louder than a whisper, curiosity and concern ringing high in his voice, when suddenly the man took a cigarette from the packet in his inside jacket pocket, stuck it in his mouth and then proceeded to light it.  Soon after taking a few puffs and letting them out, he removed what looked like a penlight torch from his pants pocket and flashed it in direction of another parked vehicle, just across from where the officers' squad car was.

Faith and Bosco both looked over at the four-wheel-drive. The window was being wound down, but it was dark inside so they couldn't make out anyone in there.  Then, a small red light appeared in the darkness, and it was too late to move when the pop came.  The windshield of the squad car shattered as a hole burst on the passenger side and Bosco jolted backward, a puff of white smoke coming out the back of his seat as the bullet ejected, stopping as it hit the rear seat.  Faith screamed as the window shattered, covering her face with her hands, shards of glass splintering into them as she defended herself from serious injury.

Within unaccountable moments, Faith lowered her bloodied hands with tears of pain streaming down her cheeks. She looked across the road, the guy they had been after was no longer there and the truck was speeding off.  Her mind wondered what the hell had just happened. All she could remember within flashes of memories was the glass as it shattered, sending her body convulsing in terror as more memories flashed in, the sound of the bullet... and the 'oompft!' from her partner when it hit...

"Oh god, please no!"  she screamed as she turned to her partner. There was blood... a lot of blood...too much blood...there shouldn't have been any blood!  This wasn't meant to be happening, the bullet shouldn't have come through their windshield, it shouldn't have gone through her partner's vest...through him and into the rear seat of the car.  This wasn't how it was meant to happen damn it!

Her heart surged in pure fear. Her first instinct was to rip his shirt open and assess as best she could what the fuck had happened. And there it was, a hole not much smaller than a five-cent piece in her partner's left chest, just below his collarbone.  Please God, don't you dare be doing this, she thought, her hand hovering over the wound.  She looked in her partner's eyes, he was pleading with her.  Pleading with her to explain to him what had happened.  If she knew, if she only fucking knew!  Then she would tell him...

"FUCK!!" she shouted. For the first time in her career she didn't know what to do.  "Bosco...I don't...your vest, it didn't stop the bullet...fuck, fuck..." she cursed repeatedly, then it hit her.  She swung her arm to her left and grabbed the radio, "55-David, we need a bus on North upper Elmont!  We have an officer down, REPEAT...we have an officer down on upper North Elmont!"

"10-4 David, bus is on route."

Faith let go of the radio, her eyes firmly set on Bosco. "Oh god..." she said, her voice shaking.

"It's bad, isn't it?" Bosco asked, his own voice trembling as he looked back at her.

"N-no..." she assessed, it was somewhat the truth, but more a lie than not.  She had no idea if it was bad or not. Damn you, Boscorelli for fucking asking...she looked at the wound, then her eyes adverted to the white debris in the backseat, the fluff...and the hole...she could see the hole in the rear seat where the bullet had left her partner's shoulder, bypassing the seat he was in, and stopped.  "You'll be okay," she assured him, turning her eyes back to his.  "Bus is on its way."

Bosco swallowed, and tried to look at his shoulder, he even tried to move his hand, but both movements caused dizziness so he leaned back, pressing his head against the safety guard behind his head.  He began shivering, and Faith hurriedly removed her jacket.

"Here," she told him, wrapping it around his shivering body.  "I have to check the exit wound," she then said, he nodded.  She moved over to him and helped him sit forward a little.  "Damn it..." she said, and began searching the squad car for something, anything, to put over the wound.  Finding nothing, she removed her radio and badge, and after balling the shirt up as best she could in a hurry, she leaned Bosco forward again, and placed it between the wound and his own shirt to hold it in place.  He screamed out in pain as the shirt touched the open wound and tears flowed unevenly from his eyes.

Bosco held his eyes closed for several moments, then opened them, his gaze settled on the officer in front of him wearing a T-shirt, with vest overtop it.   "If it...if it weren't for the fact," he swallowed, continuing, "...the fact, I'm lying here, dying..."

"Don't say that," she made him promise.

He smiled teasingly, "I'd do ya," he grinned.

Faith shook her head. "You can be an ass sometimes."

"Yeah, but even if I weren't, I'd still do ya."

She laughed, feeling pain inside her chest that wasn't quite physical, it was pain a greater pain, the pain of fear she felt inside for the life of her partner.  The only damn partner she could or would ever trust.

In the distance, she could hear the sirens of the ambulance as it was coming to the scene.

It felt like forever before the bus actually arrived, but as it pulled onto the scene she climbed out of the car, rushing over to Doc and Carlos.

"What happened?"  Doc asked, looking at the windscreen as he rushed to the passenger side of the squad car.

"How the fuck..." Carlos exclaimed under his breath as he climbed in the driver's side to get access to Bosco.

Faith just stood at the front of the car.  Bosco was looking back at her with a mask now covering his mouth and nose, while Doc and Carlos treated his wound before they were able to load him onto a gurney.  She just stood there.  Boz, don't you dare leave me...she thought, sending it to him, and with a blink of his eyes, she felt like he had heard her plea.

Once in the ambulance, Doc let Faith in first, and closed the door behind them, while Carlos drove to the nearest Hospital.

"Good call, with the shirt," Doc said to Faith, while he inserted an I.V, then injected a shot of morphine, "That'll help with the pain," he told a red-eyed Bosco, who was clenching his teeth in pain, but not moaning.  Every bump they passed over for sure sending more pulses of pain through his body.

"F-Faith..." he breathed heavily; she reached out and squeezed his hand gently, letting him know she was there.  "If-if I don't make it..." he spoke, his voice a near whisper.

"Don't, don't talk like that, you'll be fine."

"J-just hear me out..." he breathed, blinking before turning his head and looking at her, "I j-just w-want you t-to know...I-I'm glad, that we got to-to work togeth-ther."

Tears in her eyes, Faith swallowed hard, squeezing his hand tighter, "Me too, Boz...me too," she whispered.

"Y-y'know...I o-only like you calling me that, Faith," he said, swallowing.

*      *      *      *

Arriving at Mercy Hospital, Bosco was wheeled straight into the E.R and Faith stood there, watching as the doctor's stripped the vest and shirt off her partner, holding her breath in agony as his body arched in pain.  She could feel his pain...she couldn't bare to see him like that. 

Within a short space of time, he was wheeled out of the E.R and straight up to the operating room.

Doc had shown her the way to the surgery waiting area, then left, he and Carlos had to clean the bus up, and get back on duty ASAP.  She'd only been sitting there for a short while, when a doctor approached, "Officer, are you alright?" he asked, sincerity in his voice.

"My partner...he was shot tonight," she spoke, her voice fading.

"I'm so sorry," the doctor replied, stopping a few feet from her, "But, those cuts on your hands?"

Faith looked at him quizzically, before looking down at the back of her hands. "Oh man, I didn't even realize..."

"My exam room is the seventh door on the right down the hall, I'll suture them for you," he offered.

She stood up, looking in at the doors where Bosco had been wheeled down earlier.  Then, saying nothing, she nodded her thanks to the doctor and followed him down the corridor.

*      *      *      *

Shortly after her hands were sutured, Faith went back to the waiting area, where Detective's Fredericks and Bryce were waiting for her.  Within minutes of questioning her, she was escorted down to the Five-Five for further questioning.

"What do you know about Officer Boscorelli's involvement in an undercover investigation four years ago?"  Bryce asked.

Faith blinked, turning to him, "Why am I here?"

"We have to ask you some questions," Fredericks replied.

"Why?  Why here?  Why not down at the hospital?"  She looked at both officers.

"Just answer my question," Bryce demanded, soon after his command came out of his mouth, he sat back in his chair, apologizing.  "Please, answer the question Officer Yokas."

Faith sat up. "No.  Not until you tell me exactly why I'm here.  Yes, Bosco was shot, but you could have asked me down at the hospital.  Now why aren't you?"

Detective Fredericks looked at Faith for a moment in silence. "We're trying to piece together the reason he was shot," he replied, a certain tone of coldness in his voice, like he didn't even care that her partner was near fatally shot, or could end up being, if he didn't make it.  She shuddered at the thought.

"Cop killer doesn't pop into your mind?"

"Only, your partner wasn't killed, was he, Officer Yokas?"  Bryce pointed out.  "We have ballistics running a match on the bullet fired, and as far as the windshield goes?  There's no fucking way in hell it should have shattered the way it did.  You know that, we know that.  Your partner knows that."

Faith nodded, looking down at her bandaged hands.  She was off work for two weeks, sick leave, until she was permitted to return to normal duties thanks to the glass.  Thanks to the son of a bitch that shot her partner.

"What Detective Bryce is trying to say, is, we think your partner was a target...whoever shot him had access to armor piercing bullets.  Perhaps, shank piercing...the analysis is still being run as we speak.  And the windscreen, it's possible it was just a normal every day windscreen like that of the average Joe Blogg's Mark Four, Ford Cortina."

"Maybe the bullet was made to go through the windscreen?"  Faith asked them both, finally bringing her eyes up to meet theirs again.

"From your description of what happened earlier, it's possible.  But it's more probable that the unit was fitted with a non bullet proof windscreen."

Faith laughed, shaking her head. "How the hell did it happen?  I thought the cars went through rigorous testing to make sure they're up to standard?"

Frederick's cleared his throat, before speaking again, "We think, as far as the car is concerned, it was an inside job.  Whoever the guy is that shot your partner, he's got connections within the precinct, and the shop we get the cars repaired through.  All leads are being investigated."

"Yeah, well he chose the wrong officers to fuck with," she replied, bitterly.  "What have you got so far on this bastard?"

"Well, that all depends on what your partner told you about the sting he was involved in," Bryce told her, she looked at him then to Fredericks.

"Not much," Faith began, "Just that it was a large weapons trafficking business.  That Jason Malone found out that he and eight other men and women involved in his 'deal' were police officers, including Bosco.  And that Malone was going to get his revenge, when none of them would expect it."

"Fuck."  Bryce's brow creased, "Did he say anything about any of the guys he worked with?  Names?"

Faith looked back at him. "No.  But wouldn't that be in your files, Detective?"  Both detectives exchanged looks. She caught on immediately. "Fuck, you lost the files?"  They didn't reply, just looked back at her in silence.  "There weren't any arrests, were there?"  Still no reply, but this time the silence was one of admission.  "How the hell could you have an undercover operation, and yet make no arrests of those you were trying to infiltrate?"

"The evidence was lost.  Every last red cent of it.  Gone.  And so, the D.A couldn't do anything to hold the guys in custody, they were later released when their lawyers convinced the judge that there wasn't substantial enough evidence to prove their guilt in the case."

"But what about Bosco?  The others?  Wouldn't they have testified your case for you?" she asked back.

Frederick's nodded. "Yes, but it was dismissed by Rawleigh."

"The crooked judge?"

"Yes."

Faith shook her head, "None of that explains, though, why you wouldn't have the names of those guys on file."

"Other guys," Bryce replied.

Frederick's continued, "There were seven unidentified men who never were arrested.  Only three of our officers knew them, one of them was your partner.  We know who the other men were who were arrested, but, we need these seven men to have our case hold up in court."

"Why not ask the other two?"  A grave look appeared on Fredericks' face. "Dead?"  He nodded.  "How did they die?"

"One was a nine millimeter glock.  Whoever shot him was standing so close to him, they would have been covered in blood and brain matter."

"Oh god..." Faith almost threw up, she brought her hand to cover her mouth and shook her head in disgust.

"The other one in an accident.  But because of the events of today with Boscorelli, the deaths are being re-investigated."

She nodded, though still not able to believe what she had just been told.  "Bosco...he never told me about the guys, said he wanted to put it all behind him."

"I see," Bryce picked up his pen, and, clicking it, he wrote down a few notes.  "You and your partner, were tonight watching Dylan Dantell, correct?"  Faith nodded, "He's wanted in connection with a home-invasion and rape case, three weeks ago?"

"That's right."

"Were you aware that your partner was good buddies with this man during his sting operation?"

"What?"  she asked back, shocked.  "There's no way."

"Oh yes." Bryce smirked, "Dylan Dantell, alias, Mark W.  He was, and quite possibly still is, one of Jason Malone's right hand men."

Faith shook her head; she didn't want to hear anymore.  "So what does that have to do with what happened tonight?"

"Dantell and his boss were both acquitted in court, your partner was responsible for their arrest.  I think that deems suitable warrant for revenge to be issued against him, don't you?"

She swallowed, looking at neither one of them. "When can I leave?"

The two men exchanged looks again, "Well, you're not under arrest, and this was just some procedural questions.  You may leave. We'll contact you if we have any more questions.  Or, you can contact us if you think of anything else."

Faith stood up. "Fine," she replied before leaving the room.  She walked the halls until she found the locker room, where she went in and changed into her jeans, a dark purple blouse, and her leather jacket.  She was leaving when she caught a glimpse of Bosco's locker.  She paused, looking at it.  After a quiet moment, she walked over and unlocked the padlock, and opened the locker.

She took in a breath, and was just looking inside when the door to the locker room opened.

Sergeant Christopher walked in, "Yokas..." he said, walking over, "How is he?"

Faith quietly removed her partner's change of clothing, and put them in his gym bag.  She also grabbed his track suit and tossed it, along with his sneakers, into his bag.  She slammed the locker shut, and proceeded to lock it back up again.  Letting out a slow breath, she turned slowly to her superior officer, and once fellow academy trainee.  "I don't know, sir."

"Give him my best wishes," he told her.  After getting no other kind of response from her, he left the locker room, where Faith just let out a sigh and sat down on the bench in front of the lockers; Bosco's bag on her lap.

She didn't know what to do, what to think.  How did it come to be so damn fucked up? she wondered, and it wasn't just Bosco being shot she was thinking of, but her whole damn life.

Faith sat in the room for twenty minutes or so, gathering her thoughts, or trying to make sense of at least a few of them, when Sully and Davis walked in, laughing.  "Hey Yokas," Davis said, walking to his locker. "You okay?"

"You haven't heard?" she asked, bringing herself to finally meet his eyes; Davis looked toward Sully, then back to Faith.  "Boz was shot tonight."

Sully stopped unbuttoning his shirt. "That's your unit outside?  On the back of the tow-truck?"  She nodded. "Yokas, I'm so sorry... how is he?"

"Last I knew, still in surgery.  Fredericks and Bryce brought me down here for questioning."

"Bastards."  Davis turned to his locker, slowly opening it.

Silence fell on the room, "I'm going to head home, pick up a few spare things for Bosco, try convince my sitter to stay longer," Faith said, standing up and leaving.

"Will she be alright?"  Davis asked, Sully just looked back at him.

*      *      *      *

Out in the hallway, Faith was walking along, trying not to cry, but when she made it out the front doors to the building, she had only taken two steps outside when she stopped and the tears flowed from her eyes.

"Faith?" a familiar voice called. She turned to see Doc unlocking his car door, Kim standing on the other side of the vehicle waiting to get in.  "Give you a ride?"  Faith looked at him for a moment, before nodding. "Climb on in."

Faith walked over and got in the back seat, on the driver's side.  Doc and Kim were already in the car by now, and soon they were driving away from the precinct.  The drive was silent, Kim apologized to Faith, in hearing about Bosco being shot.  And Faith shed more tears, she quickly wiped them away, sniffing. "I just hope my sitter hasn't left already."

Doc looked in the rear-view mirror, and seeing him, Faith quickly turned her head and looked out the side window.

A few minutes later, they arrived outside Faith's apartment building.  "Want me to come up with you?" Kim asked, as Faith began climbing out of the car.  She stopped, and turned to Kim.  "My mom has Joey, and if your sitter can't stay, or has gone... I'd be happy to sit for you.  It'd be the least I could do."

"Thank-you," Faith finally accepted, and both women got out of the car and went up to the apartment.  They had reached her door, and Faith was about to unlock it when the door from the apartment across the hall from her opened.  Both women turned around, Rosemary Clough, Faith's seventy-something year old neighbor was standing there, at her side was a yawning Charlie dressed in his pajamas.

"The young woman who baby-sits, said she had to go home early."

"What? When?"

"Three hours ago.  She asked if I could take care of him until you came home."

"Thank you, Mrs. Clough," Faith told her, while Charlie ran over and hugged his mother tightly.  She hugged him back.  "Thank you again," she said, running her hand through Charlie's soft hair. The woman merely smiled back, and then walked into her apartment, closing the door and locking it behind her.

Faith, Kim and Charlie went into Faith's apartment, and after settling Charlie down for bed, Faith gathered a few things to take down to Bosco.  "There's a bed in the spare room, you can sleep there. Help yourself to anything to eat or drink."

"Okay," Kim nodded, and walked with Faith over to the door. "Call if you need anything."

"Thank you, Kim.  I don't know how to ever thank you enough though, for helping out."

"Just make sure they catch the bastard that shot Bosco."

"We will," Faith promised. "We will."

*      *      *      *

Doc and Faith arrived at the hospital a short while later. "Thanks for the ride, Doc,"  Faith told him, he just smiled and told her everything would be okay.  Then he left.  And she was left with her silence again, standing outside the main entrance to the hospital, not knowing where she was at in her life... or why.  She found her way up to the waiting area, and asked the nurse how the operation was going, or if it was finished yet.

"Officer Yokas..." The African American nurse in her mid to late forties, one of the head nurses, Faith knew, led her over to a set of chairs and sat her down.  She sat down next to her.  "There were some, complications, that arose during Maurice's surgery..."

"Oh god..."

"He's still alive, but, soon after you left here with the detectives, he arrested.  The doctors and nurses were able to revive him, but because the bullet was so close to his heart, the blood flow... Maurice is still in surgery, and they're working as fast as they can, and doing their best to make sure no further complications arise.  Does he have any close family you can contact?"

Faith nodded, "Yeah."

"It might be a good idea to contact them, have them here... just in case."

She swallowed back more tears. "I understand.  I'll ring his mother... she can pass the message on to his brother, and father... if they even care."  The last four words she hadn't meant to say aloud, but they came out anyway.

The head nurse left, and Faith went over to make the phone call.  She was only on the phone for a matter of a few minutes, and it was apparent that his mother couldn't make it down there, not at this hour, and she had no idea where his father or brother were to pass on the message.  Then Mrs. Boscorelli asked that Faith keep her posted on any further developments, until she was able to get there a bit later in the day.  Faith accepted that and promised she would, but her heart still sunk, heavily.

She walked back over to the rows and rows of chairs, most of them were empty, hell... probably only seven of the seats were taken.  She found a comfortable chair in the corner, where she could rest her head against the wall behind her, and fell asleep.  Two and a half hours later, just after three in the morning, she was awakened by another nurse, a small Caucasian woman, her gray hair and wrinkled face smiled down at her. "Hi... Mrs. Yokas, your partner is out of surgery now."

"H-how did it go?"  She yawned, "The surgery?  Is Bosco okay?"

"I'm sure the doctor will be able to answer your questions as soon as he's finished."

"Finished?"

"He was rushed into another operation. Maurice is in the recovery ward.  Would you like to see him, Mrs. Yokas?"

"Faith... and yes," she nodded.

Bosco's bag in her arms, Faith followed the nurse along the maze of corridors until they reached the recovery ward, where she was led over to Bosco's lone room.  "I'll be back in a few minutes," the nurse told her, and left.

Faith stood just in the doorway. Bosco's eyes were shut, and his breathing was even.  Tubes were in his arms, and a monitor was connected to his chest, the blanket lay overtop them.  She slowly took each step over to his bed, where she settled his bag down on the floor next to the trolley that the heart monitor was on.  "I brought you a few things," she told him softly after a few moments.  "Down by your bed, there when you wake up."  She took in a breath, the nurse appearing in the doorway behind her.  "I have to go, but I'll be back to check on you later, I promise."

*      *      *      *

Faith reluctantly left the hospital, asking the nurse to ring her home apartment if anything happened, before hailing a cab downstairs.  Once inside the cab, she went down to an auto-mechanics shop, ran by a man called Merv.  He was her and Bosco's best-kept secret informant, as he'd requested he be.  When she arrived, she climbed from the cab, paid her fare and walked inside the building through the large open garage door.  The cab seemed to linger a while, before leaving, very slowly.

She walked over to where Merv was working at his bench, sitting on his stool.  She stood there for only a few seconds, when he turned around, a wide smile on his face. "Officer Yokas, how are ya darlin'?"  He asked, cheerily.

She faked a smile. "I'm fine.  Can't say the same for Bosco though."

"Why, what happened to the kid?"

Faith clenched her teeth, wanting to spout off a few bad words at the tipster, but the information he received was second-hand, so he wouldn't know any more about who had shot at Bosco than what the detectives who had interviewed her had known.  "He was shot tonight."

"Aw darlin', I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, well your tip was what got him shot in the first place."

"Hey, hey... second-hand, I'm just the messenger.  All I told you and the kid was where Dantell was gonna be.  I only told you what I heard."

"I know.  But I need to know where you got your 'tip' from."

Merv stood up. "You know I can't name the source darlin', it's what the kid agreed to."

Faith angrily pushed him backward. "That's him, *not* me!"  She clenched her teeth again. "Tell me who it was that told you."

He straightened his blue overalls, and cleared his throat.  "I'd help you if I could, but the tips are given to me over the phone.  If I knew, I'd tell you in a heartbeat."

"Someone would have had to have set these 'tipsters' up for you, now who was it, Merv?" she asked, keeping her voice even, and to the point.

Merv swallowed, nervously. "I-I can't tell you, love, he said if I ever told anyone who he was, he'd kill me.  Believe me, darlin', he would.  The bastard goes high in the ranks, he can do anything he wants with the snap of his fingers."

"In the police?"  He swallowed again. "Tell me Merv, who in the police department?"

"All I can tell you is, he was one of the head leads in the Jason Malone investigation."

"I need more than that.  I can't access those files."

"Then it'd be best you choose wisely to whom you trust."

Faith nodded, and Merv turned back to his work, turning his back on her.  She swallowed, looking around the workshop as she turned around herself, before heading out of there.  Faith was outside and in a cab within a few minutes, heading back to the precinct.

*      *      *      *

Heading straight to the special unit's department, Faith took access of one of the computers, primarily used by Officer Stephen Winslow, and Adriana Yevenah.  Within minutes, she was logged into the special units and investigations section, but her access was halted when a password access only came up.  "Fuck..." she cursed under her breath.  She tried three passwords, each failing.

"Can I help?"  A uniformed, sandy haired officer to her right asked, Faith removed her badge from her pocket and showed it to him for a split few seconds.  "Detective... right.  Why not use one of the upstairs computers?"

Detective?  Oh no, no, no...  "Few of them are down, rest are in use... you know what detectives are like, don't like to give up their computers for anyone."

The officer laughed. "Here, let me just..." he leaned over, punched in a few keys and the password screen was bypassed.  "There ya go."

"Thanks," Faith smiled and waited as he returned to his regular duties.  Oh you're gonna burn in hell now Yokas, how the hell could you have just blatantly lied like that?  She typed in Jason Malone, and three matches came up.  One was a rap sheet, which she clicked on.  Reading the sheet was like reading an autobiography of a demon: rape, sexual molestation of young children, gun and drug dealing, prostitution, seven counts of attempted murder, three of manslaughter.  How the hell can this sicko still be on the damn streets?

Next, Faith accessed the two other files. The first one was of no use, while the third was like a gold mine.  She read through several pages of background information on the investigation, reports, one from her partner.  Jason Malone had been seen ordering men to kill deliverymen, guys that had seriously fucked them off.  The list went on and on like that.  This guy should be rotting in a cell... but her thoughts were cut off when she read two familiar names.  Detective's Fredericks and Bryce.  They were a part of the team who had been running the investigation.

She turned slowly to the officer next to her, "How could I print this off?"

The officer looked at the monitor, a crease appeared in his brow as he looked back to her. "Hold Control and the letter P."  Faith did so, and the file started printing across the other side of the room.  "Detective?" he asked. She turned to him.  "My father... h-he was killed by the men involved in that incident, no one knows why, I-I'd like to help you.  In your investigation."

"I don't know... it's not a formal investigation."

"The captain of the detectives doesn't know you're doing it?"  She shook her head. "I still would like to help.  I may be young, twenty-six.  But, my father taught me a lot about this job, before he... he was killed.  I'd been on the force two years prior to his killing.  Please, I just want to find out why they killed him."

Faith reluctantly nodded her head, and the officer jumped from his seat and hugged her tightly.  "Thank you, thank you so much."

When he let go of her, Faith walked over and retrieved the six sheets of paper that had the information about the investigating officers, and those arrested that day the sting went down.  She was walking along when the young officer rushed over to her. "I exited the system, and cleared the history list, so they won't know you were in the files," he whispered as they walked along.  She looked at him curiously, "I seen the look on your face when you read the names of the investigating officers, I'm not gonna pretend to not know you think one of them is more deeply involved in what happened that day.  Hell, I think it was Fredericks."

Faith left it at that while they left the precinct. Officer Paul Walsh, as she had found out, clocked off for the night, he had stayed two hours over his shift filling in reports and was now officially heading home.  She waited while he changed out of uniform, and then they left.

"My car's over there..." he pointed to a fiery red mustang across in the parking space, it was three spaces away from Bosco's blue mustang.  Her heart ached thinking about what had happened tonight, her mind flooded with flashbacks to the glass shattering, the sound Bosco made when the bullet entered him.  She fought to clear her mind of the thoughts, but they didn't fully leave her, she knew they wouldn't.  "You can drive," Paul handed her the keys from his jeans' pocket.

Faith gratefully took the keys, Paul taking the papers from her as they both climbed in.  The car roared to life, but the sound the engine made was more timid and tame compared to Bosco's.  "Doesn't have the right motor in it," he explained.

"Oh."  Was all she said, and began driving.  They left the car lot and were soon heading along one of the main roads.

Silence, a long silence.

They had been driving for around ten minutes now, headed out to see a man about tracing telephone calls.

"You're not a detective, are you?"  Paul asked.

Faith didn't answer for quite a while.  "No."

"You're a blue?"

"Yeah."

And that was all that was said on the subject.  Paul never asked why she'd lied.  And she never told him why she had.  But, she did explain to him why she was investigating the case, because her partner was shot, and she wanted to find out who was behind it and arrest them.

They arrived at a seven story office building in the upper west-end a while later.  Both officers climbed the stairs--the elevator out of use--and made their way to the telecommunications floor.  Through the main doors, they walked over to the third tele-operator's desk.  "Faith!"  The flamboyant man in the chair swung around in seeing her arrive.  "Babe, you're looking beautiful as ever!  That purple?  Mmm girl, must be driving Fred wild!"

Faith felt her cheeks flush a little, but she pushed for a fake smile. "We split, actually... but that's not why I'm here."

"Tell Francis what you need, and I'm your man."

"I need to trace a call."

"Give me the number, doll, and I can trace any number in the world for you," Francis said, patting the desk where he wanted her to put down the paper. When she didn't, he looked at her with a quizzical, concerned frown.  "You don't have it?"

Faith shook her head. "No.  But it's more, I need to know what phone calls have been coming in at an auto mechanic's shop, here's the information..." she said, taking a scrap bit of paper from his 'scrap paper' tray, and filled in the name of the shop and its number.

"Hon, that place will have a lot of incoming calls, you do know?  It could take me hours."

"Hours we don't have," Paul piped up to Faith's right.

"Just, any call that was made today that's rung in more than two or three times in the last week.  Please."

Francis nodded, "Fine.  Should take me, five, ten minutes top... we've got a new cafeteria down the hall, help yourself to a bite, a drink...then come back."

"Thank you," Faith told him before turning away and heading out the main doors, Paul following close behind.

"Who was that?" he asked, as they walked into the small cafeteria.

"Francis?" Faith unconsciously asked. "Old friend from the academy before he left."

"Because he's gay?"

She ordered a sandwich for herself and a croissant for Francis, along with two black coffees.  "He's not gay." She turned around, the now paid for items in her hand, "He's just... flamboyant."

Paul ordered himself the same sandwich as Faith, and a coffee too.  Together they walked back along the hall to the main offices.  "Yeah, flamboyant and gay," he sipped his coffee. "Got a brother like that.  Nice guy..." he chuckled. "Got better dress sense than my sister!"

A smile appeared on Faith's face, the first real one since the incident.  They walked over to Francis's desk and she gave him his drink and croissant. 

"We've got five regular callers."

"That was quick," Paul commented, sipping his coffee some more.

Faith nodded toward the monitor. "Who?"

"Now, you know the names mean nothing...as the caller could have been using some kind of routing hardware to come across as using someone else's name, but they are... Milo Otis... Rupert Avalante... Melanie and Frank Sheinwold... Phillipa Morris... and last but not least, Beverly McKenzie."

Paul scribbled down the names in the notepad in his top pocket, receiving strange looks from Faith and Francis. "I write stories, notepad helps me keep track of the ideas," he smiled, and quickly finished scribbling down the names. Adding with that, their addresses and phone numbers.

"Thanks again, Francis," Faith smiled.

"No, thank you...it was a relief to be doing something different than the same old thing."  He smiled at her. "Take care Faith, and don't be a stranger.  It's nice to see familiar faces."

"Likewise," she replied and waved as she and Paul left.

"Now what?"  Paul asked.

"Now we find out who the jerk-off is that got my partner shot."

*     *     *      *

The first place the duo went to was the apartment of one Milo Otis.  Faith knocked, while Paul stood with his hand on the pistol at the back of his belt, ready if the need arose.

After several times knocking on the door, each time getting louder, the door finally swung open, and a man wearing assorted leather gear stood there, towel around his waist.  "Yes?" he asked, adjusting the towel a little as it began to slip.

Oh please God, don't let that towel fall down... Faith thought. "Mr. Milo Otis?"

"Otis...Milo, she's in the...well, currently unavailable to come to the door."

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Paul cleared his throat. "In regard to an officer's shooting a little over three hours ago."

"Oooh, sorry son," the forty something year old man replied. "I just came into town from a flight out in Jersey an hour or so ago."

"We have a telephone record that shows a phone call was placed from here, and made to an auto mechanics shop seven hours ago," Paul said.

"Milo, yes, our car was in the shop, and she was probably calling to make sure it was ready in time to pick me up from the airport," the man cleared his throat.  "Listen, is this all?"

"Yes, thank you Mr. Otis..." Paul faked a smile, and the two officers began turning away from the door as it closed in front of them.  "Well, that was..."

"Interesting," Faith continued for him.

After leaving that apartment, they continued on to three of the calls, each without success, when they arrived at the apartment of Beverly McKenzie.

Faith stopped just to the right side of the apartment door and knocked several times, before turning to Paul, who was yawning.  She went to say something to him when the door opened, drawing both their attention.  The door opened only partially until it stopped at the length of the chain.  "Beverly McKenzie?" Faith asked, stepping around so that she could better see the woman on the other side through the small gap.

"What do you want?" The young woman with auburn hair asked, sighing.

"I'm Officer Faith Yokas, and this is Officer Walsh, we're investigating calls made to Merv's garage..." she had begun, when the woman cut her off.

"He's at Deny's, down the road.  Barry, fucking son of a bitch, always making his god-damned calls, reporting some fucking shit or the other.  I hope you lock his sorry ass away for the next fifty fucking years."

Faith looked sideways at Paul, then back at the woman.  "Does Barry have a last name, ma'am?" she asked.

The woman nodded, "Daniels.  That all?"

"Yes, thank you," Faith told her, and the woman slammed the door shut in her face.  She turned to Paul, a somewhat relieved expression on his face echoing that of her own, now they were finally getting somewhere.  "Let's go find this guy," she told him as she headed along the hallway.

He followed quickly behind her, not saying anything.

*      *       *      *

Deny's

Faith and Paul walked into the bar, instantly approaching the sole patron slumped over the main counter, several empty jugs in front of him.  "Barry Daniels?" Faith asked, the man groggily lifted his head to look at her, saying nothing.  "Are you Barry Daniels?"

"That's me," he burped, laughing as he scratched his head, roughing up his black hair more than it already was.  "What do you want?"

She pulled her badge out of her jacket, "Police.  We need to ask you a few questions."

Daniels looked between the two officers, "Okay."

"There was a number of calls made from your girlfriend's apartment..." she begun, but he laughed and stopped her.

"Girlfriend?  If this is Beverly," he burped once more, his breath anything but pleasant, "she's my fucking step mother, bitch...I hate her.  She...she had me arrested once, I didn't even do anything, was just visiting my old man...fucking hag..."

Paul looked at Faith, and she looked back at him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.  She turned back to Daniels, sighing softly.  "The telephone records say you've made almost thirty calls to Merv's Garage in the last fortnight.  Five of those were made yesterday."

"Yeah, I ah...my car...it's...it's being fixed."

"Your car?" Faith asked, "Funny, because from what we heard from your, step mom, is it?  You ring Merv's so he can pass tips off to the police."

His eyes slanted as he sat up straight, or as best he could.  "You calling me a liar?" he asked her, seriousness in his voice.  "Like I told you, officer, my car's being fixed."

She took a step toward him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and yanking him closer to her so their faces were only inches apart, "Listen to me, jag off, my partner was shot tonight, and I'm sick of little pricks like you fucking me around!"

"You don't scare me," he laughed at her.

"Oh no?"  Faith asked, reaching for one of the beer bottles on the counter and smashing it against the side of the bar.  "You're gonna tell me what I fucking want to know, do you understand me!?" she demanded, shoving the broken glass bottle up against his throat, holding it only a centimeter away from his skin.

"Police brutality!" Daniels screamed at her, "That's what this is!"

She gripped his collar tighter, "Listen to me, shit for brains, I've delt with Russian mobsters ten times tougher than you and come out better off, so I warn you, don't fuck with me!"

"Alright, alright!" he shouted, putting his hands up in the air.  "I'll tell...I do, I ring Merv and give him tips, okay?"

"Who do you get them from?" she asked, lowering the bottle away from his throat.

"Usually it's a note dropped off in the mail, this time it was from a guy who guy who called himself Dylan Dantell."

Faith tensed, sent aback slightly.  "What exactly did he tell you?"

"I dunno, told me to ring up Merv, get him to pass on a message to...I don't know his fucking name, some little shit cop who he wanted taken out, Bosk...something...I don't fucking no, little Italian copper...so I ring up, pass on the message, and that's it.  I swear!"

"That makes no sense," she replied, raising the beer bottle to his throat once more.  "If you're fucking with me, I'm going to come back here and you'll find out exactly what police brutality is.  Do you understand me?" she demanded, her tone warning.

"Yeah, I do..." Daniels replied as she slowly released his collar and placed the bottle onto the bar. 

Faith had just taken a step back when he reached for the beer bottle and slashed out at her.  "Son of a bitch!"  she heard Paul scream as she dropped to the ground, hand against the side of her face, tears rolling down her cheeks.  The bottle dropped to the ground, smashing, and then came a loud thump and she looked up to see Paul wrestling with Daniels.  "I'm gonna kill you!" the young officer screamed, punching the guy in the face, not once, not twice, but five times, until the man's face was bloodied and he was gasping for breath.  He leant over the guy, clutching onto his collar, his face inches away from his.  "Didn't your mamma ever teach you not to attack a lady?"

"Get fucked!"  Daniels screamed back, struggling to get back on his feet as Paul pulled away, going over to Faith's side to see if she was okay.  On his feet, Daniels stumbled backward, "You better watch your back honey, cause sooner or later, you're gonna end up six feet fucking under, and I'll be there, dancing on your fucking grave!" he shouted, voice still fuelled with anger and laughter as he tore out of there.

A split moment of silence and Faith rose to her feet, hand still holding the side of her face as she stared at Paul, who had a serious but concerned look in his eyes.  "Thank you," she told him in a lowered voice.  He shrugged, then walked out of the bar.  Sighing, Faith turned to the shaken barman, "How much do I owe you in damages?" she asked, but he just shook her head and she turned and headed out of there.

*      *      *      *

After Paul applied three butterfly stitches to the cut she'd received, Faith decided it was time to go to the home address of the next person on her new list of suspects, not that the person on it was so new.  His home was in an apartment block on Battery Ave.  The outside of the building was brick and roughcast, while the inside had polished wood with patched areas of near cream wallpaper.  Looking at the slip of paper in her stinging hand, Faith glanced sideways at Paul, "Second floor," she told him, surprised at his lack of interest as he looked back at her.  She wondered what had happened to the enthusiastic young man she'd met earlier in the night.  Pushing the thoughts aside, she followed him over to the staircase and they both made their way up the two flights of stairs. 

Finally at the apartment, Faith knocked on the door, half expecting Paul to be at least a little excited at the prospect of moving forward in the investigations, but since their talk with Daniels, he'd grown distant, hell they hadn't even said a thing in the car on the way here.  She frowned, when suddenly the door opened, and a worn out looking woman in her late forties stood there, her hair was a complete mess, and she was dressed in an abundantly stained flowered bathrobe.  "What'd'ya want?" she snarled, her voice rough, evidence she was a heavy smoker.

"We're sorry for calling so late," Faith began, pausing as she glanced sideways at Paul and then turned back to the woman, "But we need to talk to you, about your husband, Dylan, ma'am," she said, showing the graying brunette her badge.

"He's dead," the woman spat, angered.  "Leave me the fuck alone would ya, I'm sick of you damn cops."

"We, really need to ask you some questions, please," Faith said, glancing over at Paul again, he seemed to be refusing to look at Dantell's wife.  She wanted to ask what was wrong, when the woman ushered both officers into her home, she didn't close the door though, only allowing them into the hallway.  The door behind her that led to her living room closed.

"So talk," Dantell's wife told her, shrugging uncomfortably as her weary and red rimmed eyes looked back at Faith.

She cleared her throat, "What can you tell us, about your husband's death?"

The woman wrapped her arms around herself, "He was in an accident, driving drunk, apparently," she murmured.

"You don't think your husband was drunk?"  She shook her head.  "Why's that?" Faith asked.

"He never touched the stuff in the entire time we were together."

She nodded, "And how long was that?" she asked.

"Eighteen years," Dantell's wife said, her voice fading, full of pain, "Listen lady, I got nothin' I can tell ya, our marriage was one big lie, hell we weren't even legally married."

Faith's brow creased, "How do you mean?"

"I mean, he was livin' two lives, I met his first...his real wife at his funeral.  Turns out he was some cop, damn son of a bitch."

"He was on a sting?" she asked back, searching her mind for possible reasons why he'd be living two lives the way he had.

The other woman shrugged, then nodded.  "I think so.  What I do know for sure was they wouldn't let me see his body, not even to say goodbye.  His wife, that...bitch, she...she identified him," she cried, though she then shook her head, about to say something else when Paul stormed out of her apartment, Faith staring after him in confusion until he disappeared from view and she hesitantly turned back to Dantell's wife.  "That kid, he...he looks so much like Dylan..." she whispered, tears flowing down her face.

Faith grimaced in thought, wondering how this woman could have kept on living as she had with all the pain she'd been put through by Dantell.  "Ma'am, the department...they never told you what your husband's sting was?" she asked, the woman shook her head.  "Did he ever have regular visitors, people he might have had secret meetings with?"

She shook her head, when she stopped suddenly, staring at Faith.  "I remember this one guy, he had me passing on messages that Dylan meet him down at the warehouse, that Marone...Ma...Malone, that was the name, that Malone needed help moving stock.  I overheard a conversation they had a week before his...before his death..."

"What did they say?"

Dantell's wife shook her head, "Honestly lady, I don't remember it all...but, I do remember Dylan telling the other man, Malone, wanted the stock moved hours before the cops would know...that they needed to hire the same guy they used four years earlier to do a job for them."

Her brow creased, "To move the stock?"

"No, to kill off the guys who were getting in the way," she replied.

Faith cursed inwardly, "Were any of the names mentioned?" she asked, but the other woman shook her head.  "What about the man they were going to hire?"

And almost immediately, Dantell's wife shuddered, cringing in thought.  "Corporal James Harley...that, son of a bitch..."

Oh.  God.  "You're sure?"

"Listen lady, I don't have to lie for anything, I'm not scared of those bastards, none of them, I ain't got nothing left to live for...that was the guy, Dylan had a briefcase of files he kept in the safe at my work, Harley's name was mentioned more than a few times in his reports.  That's how I found out he was a cop, knew he was leading a second life.  That wife of his, the bastard coppers that sent him in to work the sting all those years back, they didn't tell me anything, but me...I figured it out," she replied, shaking her head as she let out a breath.  "All the good it did...it didn't bring him back."

"I'm...very sorry," Faith said softly, her breath still caught in her throat, the name having sent her off-guard.  "It...might not be safe for you here..."

The woman smiled, "Like I told you, I ain't got nothin' worth living for now, I'm not scared to die...not if Dylan and I are together."

A shiver went down Faith's spine and she hesitantly nodded.  "Thank you, for all your help," she said, pausing for a moment before heading out of the apartment, the door closing behind her as she left.

Back outside, Faith walked out of the building, shutting the door behind her, then she walked down the steps and over to Paul where he stood by his Mustang.  She took a moment to quietly catch her breath before speaking.  "What the hell was that up there?" she asked, not meaning for her tone to be so cruel, but it was too late to apologize when he lifted his head to look at her, a blank expression in his face that sent a shiver down her spine.  "Paul?"

"Nothing," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Bullshit," she said back, letting out an exasperated sigh.  She looked down at her watch, having not realized it was so late.  "Maybe, you should call it a night."

"No way," Paul quickly said, a set anger in his eyes.  "We have to get those bastards, tonight."

"You should get home," Faith told him, but he shook his head, disagreeing with her.  "Fine, but I don't want to see what happened up there happen again, you can't just storm out because of whatever god-damned reasons you want.  Do you understand?"

"Yeah," he nodded, glaring at her.  "I just, needed some air, that was all...I'm sorry, okay?"

"Don't be sorry, just...keep it together, at least until we get these guys."

"I will, I promise," he replied, pausing for a moment.  "So what now?"

"Now?" she asked him back, the name James Harley flooding through her mind again.  She stared at him, "We find out where James Harley lives, he knew Dantell, and was probably the man that killed your father," she said, feeling frustrated inside.  She felt sorry for Paul as she watched him recoil with anger and discomfort.  "We'll need to get in touch with someone in the department and find his address, if he's on file.  He's army, possibly ex-army," she said, as if knowing, hell she had more than a gut feeling about it.

Paul nodded, "Let me handle that?  A guy there owes me a few favors.  I can use the payphone I saw down the block on the way here.  You wait here."  He didn't even give her a chance to argue with him, or say anything at all as he walked off, headed along the footpath.

Faith let out a sigh, then, she recalled the cellular she had in her jacket pocket and automatically pulled it out, pressing the auto-dial for Mercy.  The phone rang through, and she was quickly put through to ICU.  The news was neither good, nor was it bad, Bosco still hadn't woken up, and he was still in critical condition.  Hanging the phone up, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket, wishing she was sitting in the chair at her best friend's bedside rather than being out in the middle of the night trying to find the bastard that shot him, knowing full well the shooter was probably long gone by now.  She stood there for a long few minutes when she heard footsteps approach.  She lifted her head, finding Paul walking toward her.  "You get the address?" she asked him, he nodded.  "Hey, listen...if Dantell died, it's...impossible."

"Why?" Paul asked back, doubting.

"My partner and I were on a stakeout tonight, that's who we were sent down there to watch...but if he's dead...he can't be, otherwise, who did we see?"

He shrugged, "Maybe he faked his own death, it happens," he said, and that was all that was said as they got back in the car and headed out to Tenth Avenue.

*      *      *      *

Once at the apartment duplex, both officers climbed out of the car and headed up the front steps to the building.  Faith rang the buzzer for Harley's apartment and the door was quickly released.  She and Paul both went inside and made their way to the second apartment on their left, Faith making sure she stopped this side of the door frame while she motioned for Paul to take the other.  She removed her firearm from her waistband and quietly released the safety catch before cocking it.  At the other side of the door, Paul did the same, then looked at her, waiting.  Sighing inwardly and releasing a long, silent breath, she then knocked on the door, only for it to open slowly by a few inches, the door hinges groaning as it did so.  She swallowed hard, before knocking again, still no reply, the door, however, opened wider.  Holding her gun at the ready, her index finger loosely curled around the trigger, she took three slow and quiet steps inside, looking around her as she went.

The apartment's light was on, and the living room was almost completely bare, except for the only piece of furniture, an old wooden chair that sat in the middle of the room, the windows were covered with black plastic, and at the front of chair were meters of yellow rope.  "I've got a bad feeling about this..." she whispered to herself, but, realizing this was what she had to do, she inched her way into the room, her gaze focused so intently on the door at the far side of the room across from the main entrance way into the apartment she didn't see the two big guys at her right until it was too late.  They had their weapons drawn on her, and by the time she realized it had been a setup she'd been hit in the back of the head from behind.  Her gun went off from the instant reflexes the impact caused and she had soon dropped to the ground, her gun flying out of her hand.  The sound of the weapon clattering onto the wooden floor sent a wave of nausea over her, she could see the weapon in front of her, knew it was within her reach, but her vision was too blurred, and doubled.  The back of her head ached, and all she could think about in that moment was Bosco.  She tried to open her mouth and call his name, but her brain, no matter how hard she tried, just wouldn't do anything.

"She's certainly a fighter," a voice, one Faith couldn't recognize said as he walked over to her.

"That stupid bitch shot me in the arm!" Another male's voice hissed, this time she recognized him immediately.

"Shut the fuck up Bryce!" Paul snapped, his young and innocent voice unmasked with his rage.

She tried to move, tried to lift her head from the hardwood floor, but her head felt too heavy, too weighted down by the pain that seemed to stop her from moving so much as a few inches.  Paul kicked the gun far out of her reach, sending it through into the dining area of the apartment before he lay flat on his stomach beside her, wide smile on his face.  Her eyes blurred and she could swear he was moving his head up and down deliberately to make her feel motion sick and she closed her eyes, willing the pain to end, but it only made it worse so she opened them again, staring at him, a fading part of that blurriness and double vision leaving her for a split moment and she realized she was staring into the eyes of a violent, sadistic man.  "You bitch," he spat, before he sat up suddenly and grabbed her by the throat, shoving her backwards so she was lying on her back.  He laughed at her, laughed at the way she tried to breathe, but otherwise gave no struggle to his power over her.  "I'm not going to kill you," he then said, releasing his grip on her throat when the tears rolled down her face, "It was never you we were after...that stupid fuck Daniels spouted off shit he knew nothing about.  Your partner, Officer Yokas, he's IAB, did you know that?!"

Faith stared at him, every part of her wishing she could respond, but still nothing.  She could feel the blood at the back of her head, though, could feel it's warmth that only sent a chill over her, knowing this was it, this was how it was all going to end, and all because some little shit cop decided to fuck with her and her friends.

Paul laughed, "Thought you didn't," he said, tilting his head to the side, "It's a pity, really, you're so intelligent, and beautiful..." he seethed, lightly tracing the contours of her jaw as he spoke.  "But, don't worry, me and my boys are gonna fuck you up real bad, it won't make any difference how the rest of the world sees you," he laughed again, snapping his fingers at Bryce, who then handed him the knife from the stove, the amber blade smoking.  He took the knife from Bryce, then turned back to Faith, his eyes focused on the blade of the hunter's knife.  "See, this...it'll cut and cauterize all in one go...no bloody mess to clean up," he whispered, winking at her before he roughly ripped her blouse open.  And then, as he pressed the blade against her skin, cutting a small line across the top of her left breast she screamed and cried out for Bosco.  Her breathing quickly grew erratic as she continued screaming out, crying hard.  Paul tossed the blade aside, and then, he lifted her up so she was on her knees, her body half near giving out beneath her, but it didn't stop him as he punched her in the face, and then in the stomach after that, dealing her four more punches and only letting go of her when she was slumped forward, cradling her stomach, crying out for him to stop.

Her right eye was puffy from the punch he'd dealt her, and she could hear Paul's breathing, deep and raspy, and all she wanted in that moment was to rip the bastard's throat out.  Suddenly, the groaning of the door filled the room, and all three sets of footsteps headed for the door.  She swallowed hard, realizing this was her only chance.  She looked over at them, they all had their backs to her as they talked to whoever it was at the door, the man they were talking with sounding familiar as she painfully reached for the knife and tucked it into the sleeve of her jacket, the burning pain surging through her breast as she moved her arm that caused her to wince in pain, a noise that made Paul come back over to her.  She lifted her head, staring up at him when he kicked her in the face before she had the chance to move out of the way, sending her backwards, the knife sliding out of her sleeve, there for all to see as her head hit the floor.  She stared up at him again, the blood trickling from her nose as she lifted her head, "You...bastard..." she breathed, her voice husky from the lack of wind his punches had dealt her.

"You think you can escape, do you, huh!?" he hollered, vindictiveness in his voice as he went for her again.  He pulled her to her feet by her jacket, the keys in her pocket rattling.  "I'm gonna teach you what it is to feel pain, to know what it's like to suffer!"  He brought his knee to her stomach in one sudden movement, dropping her to the ground.  He stood there, staring down at her with that mean glare in his eyes before reaching for her again.  But as he reached down and pulled her up onto her knees again, his hands gripping her bloodied blouse when her left fist met his stomach and he stopped suddenly, staring at her, the realization that he hadn't won written all over his face. 

"Fuck! You!"  Faith breathed, her voice a loud, angered whisper.  Her fist met his stomach again, this time the blood from the wound flooding over her hand, sticky and warm, it rushed out with lumpy clots and trickled down her arm.  She stared at Paul, saw the pain his face, saw his eyes begging with her to stop, but she drove her fist into his stomach again and he collapsed to his knees.

"My...father..." Paul laughed, tears streaming down his face, "...he left me!  I had to kill him...I had to kill all of them...the men...their wives...every last one of them..."

Faith shook her head, her teeth clenched, "You thought you were doing the world a justice!?  By killing men who were fighting to stop Malone?!" she asked him, he laughed, a stupid smile on his face.  She drove her fist harder against his stomach, "You're just as bad as all of them," she whispered harshly, reaching up and clutching his collar tightly in her right hand.  She wanted to tell him he was fighting all this time for the wrong team, tell him he was as fucked up as all of them, when his eyes rolled backwards and his body went limp, his head hitting hers as his dead weight fell on her and sent her backwards.  She pushed him off her as fast as she could, then rolled him onto his back and rose to her feet, despite how much the rest of her was shaking violently, was trembling from the weight in the rest of her body.  It wasn't until she was staring down at him, his blood covering the front of her, that she realized what she'd done.  Her body shuddered, and her head slowly lifted up, her eyes falling on Bryce and the other guy who were working with Paul.  They had their guns trained on her, and behind them was James Harley.  He had dark hair, cut with an army crew-cut, the black t-shirt he wore was skintight, and she knew in that moment as their eyes met that he'd murdered the old man, the little girl, and Christopher.  She knew that he had been the bastard who pulled the trigger, his sights aimed on her daughter, on her best friend.

Frozen, she stood there, not in fear though, not anger, not anything, she just stood there and watched as James told Bryce and the other guy to get the fuck out of the building, to go and not look back, that he'd make sure there wasn't a trace of evidence that would lead to them.  The two men left, Faith wanted to yell out 'You won't get away with this!', but her mind was already made up, she would be the one who'd make sure they wouldn't get away with what they'd done, but she said nothing as James walked over to her, stopping a few feet away, his gaze drifting from her to Paul and he shook his head.

"He was a good kid, little fucked in the head, but who the fuck isn't, right?" he shook his head again, staring at Faith once more.  "By hell you're a strong bitch though."

Faith's teeth clenched, "Cut the bullshit James," she told him back, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"No!" he screamed at her, "You have no rights tellin' me what the fuck to do!"  His eyes gave away his fury, if his voice hadn't, "Just shut your fucking mouth!"

She flinched at his tone, staring up at his bulky mass, wanting answers, she deserved them, but she realized she'd never get them.  At least, not from him.

"You're not even gonna ask me why?" James then asked, "Why I killed that little fuck who was in love with you?"

"Why don't you just give me your fucked up reasons," she replied, she really didn't want to know why, the pain was too unbearable as it was, whatever twisted reasons he had would only make her feel that much more guilty, knowing it was her fault.  It always had been, always would be.  Her chest rose as she took in a breath, "On second thoughts, it won't matter, not when they find your rotting carcass in some rat infested alley!"

"My oh my, tough words for a mommy.  How is your little girl by the way, Emily, wasn't it?  I hear she's hit puberty," he lisped, inching his way closer to her, "Lucky me I guess, huh?"

Faith's eyes shot to his, shooting him a warning glare.   "You're nothing, you know that?  Hell, they won't even mention you in the front page.  I'll make damn sure of that!"

James let out a sigh, his eyes staying on her as he began walking, doing a complete circle around her before stopping so they were now standing face-to-face, his body inches away from her.  "It's interesting, you're a cop, nine years on the job no less, and yet you couldn't figure out why I did what I had to do," he said, then gave a slight shrug.

"I know why," she spat at him, "You're a greedy asshole!"

"Greedy is when you do anything you can for money," he replied, she huffed at him, her fingers curling tighter around the keys in her hand, but her lack of caring at what he was saying only made him angrier.  "I did everything for you!" he screamed at her, this time grabbing hold of her by both shoulders and forcing her closer to him.  She winced at his grip, at being this close to him, but she said nothing, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of an answer.  "Some guys had pictures of their wives, a little cross, but me!?  I wore a picture of you around my neck through every god-forsaken battle!"  His voice wasn't so much angered now as it was pained, as if he'd never felt the touch of a woman, a true woman, a woman he loved, one who loved him in return.  "I loved you Faith, but you went with that fat fuck, instead of me," he whispered, shaking his head as he took in a breath to try regain his composure, "Now though...you, and me..." he didn't say anything else as he leaned his face closer to hers and captured her mouth with his.  She didn't fight or pull away as the kiss grew stronger, as she felt his mouth driving her to a state of mind she had no control over, the hunger of the embrace only growing as it deepened.  She reached her right hand up and rested it against the back of his head, making him feel like all the past was forgotten, that they were here, and they would always be, but the kiss suddenly stopped, their lips were still locked, and Faith could feel the breath James released as it rushed out of his nose and mouth, burning her skin with its warmth and harshness.  Her eyes opened to his, wide and full of shock, "Why, Faith?" he breathed out his answer as their lips slowly parted.

She closed her eyes, swallowing, then opened them again.  "For killing me," she cried as she took a step backward.  He stood there, staring at her as her left hand went limp, her fingers uncurled from the fist she'd formed, and her keys—drenched in both his and Paul's blood—fell to the ground.

James lifted his trembling hand to his stomach, the warmth he found, his own blood.  He looked down at his hand, at the wound in his stomach, then looked up again, his eyes falling on Faith.  "I..." but he dropped to the ground, falling on his knees, that shock on his face as he looked down at his stomach again, the blood flowing out, not stopping.  It was as if he wasn't sure if he'd been stabbed or not, and just as he lifted his head again, Faith's foot connected with his forehead, sending him backwards.  "Stop!" he screamed at her.

She stared down at him.  "Stop!?" she echoed, kicking him in the face again, this time getting him in the mouth, breaking two of his front teeth. He spat them and a mouthful of blood out.  She kicked him again though, this time in the stomach, and after the first kick, she kicked him over and over, stopping only when she realized he was no longer begging with her to stop, when he was staring up at her.  Faith stood there, her heart pounding fast in her chest, "Oh God...what have I done?" she exclaimed, her voice above a whisper as she stepped backward, she just killed him.  Both of them... her knees gave out beneath her and she dropped to the ground, every part of her aching as she wept, as the feeling of both men's blood rushed over her hand as she had stabbed them with the keys resurfaced in her mind, the feeling of rage she had felt inside for what they had done to her daughter, to her friends, and then, the feeling of James' lips on hers, the hunger her rage, her vengeance, had driven her to crave, to use against him in a ploy, a ploy to take his life.  How had she gone from a mother who wanted to get the bastard that shot her daughter, a friend who wanted those closest to her to feel safe again in their own city, their country...how had she gone from that to a murderer with revenge fuelling her every action?  She closed her eyes tight as she bowed her head, "You bastards!!" she screamed, her body quickly convulsing as the sobs swept over her.

*      *      *      *

Bosco awoke with a start, feeling nothing in his entire body as his eyes flew open and he found himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, the events that led him to be there a blur, the only sound around him was an eerie beeping noise.  His heart monitor.  He focused on the beeps, each one in turn, when pictures stabbed at his mind and his eyes slowly drifted shut, the vivid images playing out before him.  He remembered now, remembered how the bullet had shot through the windscreen of the squad car, he could see it's golden tip spinning as it came for him, as if it had all happened in slow motion, too slow, then it hit him and every bit of wind in his lungs felt as though it had turned into a solid weight, the pain it caused as it was forced from him in the 'oompf' that came from him as he was slammed against the back of the seat.  He could hear a pop as the bullet exited the seat, and then the sound of it stopping as it hit the rear of the squad, the pain, the searing pain, it went through him faster than anything he had ever felt before.  Tears sprung to his eyes and he opened them, his breathing heavy as he tried to flush the images, the sounds, from his mind.  But they were still there, they were so vivid, so painful, that's when he felt a hand being placed over his and he saw Faith standing there, her hair was a mess, there was dried blood on her face, her left eye swollen, bruised, and the long, black overcoat she wore, buttoned to her neck.  He swallowed hard, realizing she had been there, she had been there with him, there in the squad, there with him through the one thing he never thought would ever happen to him.  To any cop.  "Faith..."

"Shhh..." she smiled softly, her eyes filling with tears all over again, looking back at him.

"Wh-what happened?" he asked, despite the fact she was shaking her head, wanting him to save his strength.

"You, you were shot," Faith replied, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

He shook his head, "Not...me...you..."  The last image of her he could recall was her sitting in the squad beside her, and his making the comment about doing her if it weren't for the fact he was dying.  He smiled, remembering how the comment had even made her smile.  "What happened, Faith?"

She swallowed hard.  "Nothing," she said, lying.  "You get some sleep, alright?  I'll come see you again, I promise," she told him, biting her lower lip when it started to quiver.  Then, she bent over and placed a kiss against his forehead, and without another word, she walked out, leaving Bosco lying there, staring after her, wondering.