Bosco transfers out of the Five-Five and the NYPD after Faith gets shot.

None of the Third Watch characters belong to me. If they did, I might not be a poor college student.

He looked in at her, lying on the hospital bed with Fred standing beside her. They both looked back at him, Fred with an expression bordering on hatred, Faith merely expectant. He drew in a breath.

"It worked. They bought it."

Fred's face lightened a little. Faith only nodded. "Good. Now go away."

The air in the hospital room tightened with tense pain. Bosco opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words that might begin to express his emotions. He nodded silently and turned to leave. Go away he would.

"Transfer? What in the hell for?"

"I can't stay here, Lieu. Not after what happened."

Swersky rubbed his temples. "I really don't need this, Bosco. With Yokas out and Cruz hanging by a string, I can't afford to lose another officer."

"I have to get away from all this. It's my fault she was in that hotel room."

"She'd want you to stay – "

"No! No, she doesn't want anything to do with me, Lieu. She blames me for this and she's right. I can't stay here." Bosco exclaimed, his features desperate. "Please, Lieu. I need this transfer."

The lieutenant sighed and knew that there was no talking Bosco out of his decision. It was done. "All right. What precinct are you looking to transfer to? The Seven-Two in Brooklyn isn't much different than this one."

"I don't want to go to another precinct. I want out, completely."

"Out of the department?"

Bosco nodded stiffly. "I can't be around the city anymore. It's too close to everything. It's got to be somewhere else."

"You do realise this is career suicide."

"I don't care."

"Have it your way. I know a guy in a department not far from here. He might have a spot for you in the patrol division. I'll call him and find out. You're sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely."

Swersky sighed again. He should have expected this would happen. "Go home, Bosco. I'll let you know when the paperwork needs to be signed."

"Thanks, Lieu. I owe you one."

"No you don't." Swersky muttered as Bosco exited the office.

The incoming night tour officers filled the locker room, their usual chatter going a long way to drown out his thoughts. He was an object of curiosity to them, as he cleaned out his locker. No one was quite sure what to make of this strange new situation, but Bosco was sure that the rumours would fill in the gaps soon enough. Nobody needed to know why he was leaving. It was none of their business.

"Cuttin' out on us, Boscorelli?"

Bosco ignored the question, folding his uniform as neatly as he could and setting it aside. The other cops shook their heads and went about the business of getting ready for their shift. They knew enough to hold their silence.

"You all right, Bosco?"

"Yeah."

Sully didn't look convinced. "What precinct are you moving to?"

"I'm not."

"Not leaving? So this is just spring cleaning?"

"I'm not going to another precinct, Sully." Bosco answered, too weary to be irritable.

"You're quitting?"

"Something like that."

The disbelieving expression on Sully's face seemed to transmit itself to everyone still in the room. Bosco could feel the shock in the air. Nobody had expected that. He zipped up his duffel bag, slung the strap over his shoulder, and picked up the stack of folded uniforms. He had already turned in his gun, badge, and duty belt. The silence persisted behind him as he walked out. Nobody needed to know his reasons.

Lieutenant Swersky waited behind the desk, his face pinched with regretful understanding. "Captain Driscoll will be waiting at the headquarters building for you tomorrow morning."

"Thanks again, Lieu."

"Good luck, Bosco."

Bosco said nothing as he turned toward the front doors. His departure said it all.

The large police department headquarters building held him in awe from where he stood across the street. Rows of cruisers were neatly lined up in a parking lot next to the building, and blue-uniformed cops of various ranks moved about like determined ants. Bosco looked up at the gleaming windows overlooking the parking lot and street, wondering how different working here would be from New York.

He jogged across the street, expecting but not hearing the blaring horns of short-tempered motorists. This would be a definite culture shock. A man in a sharply creased uniform saw him reach the sidewalk and lifted a hand into the air. Bosco headed his way.

"You must be Mr Boscorelli. Captain Driscoll."

"Yes sir."

Driscoll smiled and offered his hand. "Welcome to Boston."