Hazed and Confused (1/1)

Disclaimer: Nope, nothing yet. I don't own them and I'm definitely NOT making money out of this.

Rating: PG-13, just to be sure.

Spoilers: General knowledge of the series up through season five.

Summary: Follow-up to "The Bad Place". Faith's POV as she visits Bosco in his hospital room.

Author's note: Told you there'd be a sequel... :) Remember, this scene happened at the beginning of episode two so Faith still doesn't know about the divorce papers and her promotion. As much as it'd have been interesting to write about that, I'll stick with the timeline.

Enjoy!

The room is quiet. Too quiet.

After everything that's happened today, after the deafening sound of gunfire and glass shattering, my helpless cries, the doctor's frantic voice and the commotion dowtown, I find this silence even more disturbing.

A young nurse is checking on him. Our eyes met, and she gives me a sad smile, then quietly walks away.

I take a few hesitant steps forward, forcing myself to look down at the still form on the bed.

The grip on my purse tightens.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I suck in a deep breath and keep moving.

This wounded, broken man is not my partner. It just can't be my partner.

Bosco's full of life, always moving, always angry at the world and its injustices. This... this body... It breaks my heart to see him like this. Especially knowing that he's in this state because of me.

I don't think I've had enough time to fully process today's events. Hell, I'm not even sure I'll ever understand but one thing stands clear in my head: he saved my life.

Had he not pulled me down to the ground, willingly ignoring his own safety I wouldn't be here now, blinking back tears, struggling to find my voice to let him know I'm here.

Hey Bosco...

I look at his face, at the bandages that almost cover it all. The 'whoosh' of the respirator fills the air as I realize how pathetic I sound and my voice trails off.

What am I supposed to tell him?

I'm sorry you almost died because of me, I'm sorry you'll never be able to walk or talk again? Somehow, I don't think that's what he needs to hear right now.

I just talked to the doctor and, uh... he said you're gonna be alright.

I know he can hear me and I hope I sound more confident than I feel. I need to be strong for him. There'll be plenty of time to deal with the rest.

So is your mom. She's still here but she's better.

My gaze drifts away as I recall the pain in her eyes.

Here she was, groggy and undoubtedly still in pain after her surgery, injured as she mourned the loss of her child, learning that her now only remaining son had been shot and wasn't likely to survive.

If it'd been Emily or Charlie I don't think I'd have handled it better than she did.

She couldn't talk because of the tube down her throat, yet her desperation was so clear that my resolve not to cry in front of her crumbled and I broke down too.

I know how much Bosco cares about her so I'll make sure to tell him that I'll be there for her until he's strong enough to do it again.

No mother should experience what she's going through.

No one.

That's why the son of a bitch had to pay.

Hey...

It's not that I'm expecting him to wake up and say something, but I'm so used to his witty comebacks that it feels awkward to stand here and act as if I'm talking to myself.

About Donald Mann...

I promised there would be no more lies between us. If he's going to learn about this, it has to be from me. I owe him this much.

I just want you to know... that I took care of that for you.

There. I've said it.

I take another deep breath, watching the ventilator performing this same, simple operation for him.

The fact that he's unable to reply unconsciously puts me at ease.

I know he wouldn't be happy about this. I can almost hear him.

He thinks he doesn't deserve my help, that he's not worth it, that he nearly got me killed so I should steer clear of him as much as I can.

I've tried. God knows how much I've tried.

Okay?

I nervously lick my lips, remembering his words in the locker room a few months ago when I decided to come back to work. He said he couldn't handle the responsibility for whether or not I got hurt anymore. I downplayed his fears, pretending I didn't catch the deeper meaning of his words, yet I could not stop thinking about them.

It's only in light of what he told me that day that I can try to understand why he stepped in front of those bullets.

He risked his life because we're partners, and he thinks protecting me is part of his duty, but also because I'm the only one beside his mother who's ever bothered to look beyond his loud mouth and annoying attitude to actually care about him.

Bosco doesn't easily trust people. When and if he does though, he gives himself completely to them. He opens up to you, and it's like a totally different person.

As much as I struggle to deny it, blaming him for whatever goes wrong in my life, he's still my best friend.

A friend who'd die for me, which is as far as anyone else would go.

I...

I'll never forget the sheer panic that gripped me as soon as I realized he wasn't answering my calls, or his bloodied face when I turned him over. The scent of gunpowder hanging on the air, mixing with the peculiar smell of antiseptic, reminder of the place that had just been violated.

I pushed up onto my knees amidst fragments of glass and splinters of plastic, and I swear my own heart nearly stopped. I'd been the first one to see the masked gunmen running through the corridors but the last to move. This slight hesitation is what put Bosco in this hospital bed.

My partner and I have dodged bullets before. We've been bruised, hit, shot at, but we always came through all unscathed. This time, I'm afraid he won't share the same luck.

Everybody says he's strong, that he will be back. Back to what? What kind of life is waiting for him if he ever wakes up?

It's over.

A tear spills over, trailing down my cheek.

God, Bosco, why'd you do it?

I took care of that for you.

I don't know what possessed me to go after Cruz, or maybe I do know but refuse to admit it. It was like I was functioning on auto-pilot, watching myself drive Jelly's car and breaking into Mann's apartment downtown. I just had to make sure he wouldn't hurt anyone else ever again.

I heard voices on the roof and my heart started to race.

Cruz had her gun trained on him yet he almost looked like he didn't care. He kept moving towards her, hands cuffed, telling her that he'd be back outside in just a couple hours.

I couldn't let him.

A weird sense of relief washed over me as I emptied the clip and watched him fall.

No one gets away with hurting someone I care about.

Cruz stared at me as if I'd gone completely nuts. Maybe I did, 'cause the vision of his body floating into that pool momentarily gave me the peace of mind I needed.

She talked me into making up a different version of the truth and I played along. I was feeling so numb I didn't even have the strenght to fight with her. I just wanted to turn back time so I could prevent you from getting hurt.

A half-sob escapes my lips.

My life's falling apart.

Fred left me for another woman, taking my kids away from me.

IAB's gonna have my badge if they find out the truth.

And my best friend is probably never coming back to work.

What a day, huh?

I pull up a chair and sit down next to the bed, taking his hand in mine.

Hold on, Bos. I know you can.

I was right. It's not a matter of want.

It's a matter of need.

THE END