Author: Demelza H. Watt
Email: demelza81@yahoo.co.nz
Disclaimer: Third Watch does not belong to me. Sad, isn't it? Anyway, the show and its characters are the property of all the folks that own them. I am just a fan, and this is just fiction.
Warnings: Rated R for adult situations, nothing too graphic though, but the warning's just in case.
Dedication: This one is especially for Angie.
Take in mind for a moment that you're a thirty two year old woman. Now, on doing
this, imagine for a split moment the happiness and love you hold for –
in spite of the fact you're married to an absolute bastard – a man you've
grown very fond of over the eight years since you'd been working with him. Next,
imagine your heart breaking when you first saw him with another woman, then
again with the next, and the one after that. The heartache, the unbelievable
strain your heart is under floods all over you in a rush of emotions you know
you have to hide.
It's hard, isn't it? Being in love with someone who doesn't even know you feel that way about them?
That's how Faith Yokas felt. A constant battle of her own heart and mind, yet she pushed it all aside in knowing it did no one any good. Not herself. Not her family. Not the man she had secretly loved these years now. She couldn't even bring herself to recall the first time she realized her feelings of friendship and trust were more than that. Nor could she recall the first time she realized she felt this way. She woke up and everything felt different, and that first time when they looked at each other that afternoon on their very next shift she just knew the feelings she had for him were real. It wasn't even something she'd planned, it just happened.
She sat alone in roll call, sipping a hot cup of coffee, trying to think of ways to get her mind away from the thoughts of the man she had fallen in love with. He was her friend, like she was his. But, again she let out a sigh, this time a softer one, one with pangs of yearning, wants, desires. All she wanted was for him to walk in through the doors to the ill lit room where she sat, saddened, and declare his undying love.
Was it too much to ask?
Was the want for love in her life not enough to bring him to her?
Her eyes lifted from her coffee, and she looked over at the door. He wasn't there. He wasn't walking along the hallway, his eyes focused on hers with every step he took. He didn't open the door and whisper for her to stay seated as he closed it behind him, turning the lock in a single turn before he pulled down all the blinds on the windows. No, none of this was happening.
Her chest rose as a sob crept up on her, all she wanted was happiness. The happiness her husband had refused her through their marriage. She had even thought for a moment she would find some kind of relief when the divorce was finalized those months ago. But it didn't come. The only thing she was met with was the anger of her ex husband, accusing her of having an affair with all the men of her precinct. A whore he'd called her. Her own anger rushed through her and she shifted her gaze, her eyes immediately falling on that of her partner, Maurice Boscorelli.
He stood on the other side of the glass windows to the room, dressed in his civilian clothing, his eyes intently focused on hers. She wanted to say something, call out his name, ask if he knew how she felt about him. But nothing as he started walking. She was so sure he'd walk by, leave her to suffer in her loneliness, but he stepped up to the door and she heard the handle turn with a familiar 'click', then a short creaking noise as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Still nothing was said between them as he closed the door behind him, turning the lock as he did so.
Her heart started racing in her chest, wanting to know what was going on, she tried to find the words to ask him, but instead all she could do was watch as he turned each of the seven blinds on the windows of the room, locking the world beyond the doors out from them. They were met with an incomplete darkness, the only light entering the room coming from that of the high risen windows along the outside wall of the room.
"Stand..." came his voice, so tender, as he stepped over to her. She swallowed, and with little hesitation, did what he told her to do. She stood in front of him, her fingers nervously twisting the bottom corner of her un-tucked uniform shirt. Her heart pounded faster and faster as he closed the gap between them and brought his hand to her face, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb for only a split moment before his lips had met hers in a heated kiss. He devoured her in ways she dreamed he could, his tongue massaging hers, not harsh, but slow and tender, both his hands holding the back of her head so gently. Her hands met his chest with hesitance, not sure if any movement she made would wake her from this dream, as she knew only too many times in her dreams that very movement had. The embrace lasted for what felt like forever when she finally withdrew, trying to catch her breath, her eyes immediately focusing on his. Stayed and serious, she knew this wasn't a dream. This was all a reality, and she was the one living it.
Her hands shaking, Bosco helped Faith remove her radio before discarding it to the desk she had been seated on only minutes ago. She wanted to ask him why, ask how. But it all felt foolish as he closed the painful distance between them and brought her lips to meet his again. Her eyes drifted shut, feeling her lips tingle with every strong massage of his mouth against hers. His hands moved to her hip, drawing her ever closer to him, and she gasped for a breath of air, their mouths parting momentarily before meeting again, this time deeper, more heated than each embrace before.
Her hands searched every inch of his chest, their lips not parting for a single moment as she unbuttoned every button of the black shirt he wore, nor when he unbuckled the belt she wore. She proceeded to run her fingertips along the bare skin of his shoulders as she pushed his shirt off his back, feeling the heat and sweat from his body go soaring through every molecule of her being. "God, I love you Bosco..." she whispered to him when their lips finally parted and their foreheads were pressed together and he had started to help her release each of the constraining buttons of her uniform shirt. His eyes focused on hers. Soon, his lips had once again met hers in a long, tantalizing embrace she finally admitted to herself she had longed to taste. His lips were sweet, and held so much more power in them than she had dreamed of.
Her shirt dropped to the ground as it slid off her shoulders at his insistence, his hands, warm and gentle to the touch, ran softly down the bare skin of her arms, sending stronger, burning desires through her. Their lips parted once more as he looked back at her. "I love you too," he whispered, his hands gently framing her face as he captured her lips with his once more, "I'm so glad you feel the same way back..."
"I do...I always have..." Faith whispered softly, tears streaming down her cheeks, meeting his hands. She watched as his gaze shifted to her tears, watching them for a moment as they ran down her face, then shifted back to her warm blue eyes. "What are you thinking?" she asked softly, her hands resting on his shoulders.
"About how lucky I am...for this...for finally seeing you..." he whispered. He placed a tender embrace on her mouth, before placing a trail of kisses along her jaw, moving to her throat.
Her eyes drifted shut again, her fingers digging into his shoulders at the way it felt to have his lips against her skin. She had always dreamed it would be like this, that he would love her this way, that every romantic thought of him, of what he could do to her, how he could make her feel, would feel and happen like this. But as the kisses against her throat stopped, her eyes slowly opened, a tear streaming down her cheek again, she found herself looking into his eyes. Into his soul. Was he going to stop now? Was he planning to just torment and tease her this way? Was that the meaning of his actions? "Please...don't stop..." she spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper, and his lips met hers again, before he then helped her to the floor so she was laying flat on her back, his weight atop her. Their eyes met once more as his hand gently traced her jaw line, down her throat, and then the contour of her breast. Her mouth opened slightly, her breathing stopping for that one moment as he slipped his hand inside the cup of her bra and he massaged her breast so tenderly. Her body arched just slightly, and she released a long, slow breath, along with a soft groan. She wanted him to kiss her again in that moment, do to her what he talked of doing with all lovers before her, but she knew he wouldn't, knew she was so much more special to him than all the leggy blondes, than the wannabe models. She was real, and he wanted her. Wanted her like she wanted him, and he was going to take things slow, love her the way she deserved to be loved. And that's what he did as they lay there on the floor in the dark room, the moonlight shining in from above. He made love to her, showed her things she never dreamed of, never experienced with any other man. And for the first time in her life, she felt truly whole, knowing that he was the missing part of her life, and this night they shared was only the beginning of the love, the life, they'd share.
The End