Title: Sky is Falling
Author: Kristin (midnight-blue)
Disclaimer: Not mine, I promise.
Rating: PG-13 to R (possibly)
Feedback: Any and all is appreciated
Archive: Anywhere, just ask
Summary: Bosco and Faith find themselves in a deadly situation
*
The city burns at night, when the hush falls unnoticed, unbidden. Freezing rain pours down, washing away the drifters and the sins and those demons he hears stirring in the silence. His hands find refuge around the glass in his hands as he sips the warm soda, listening to the dishes clang in the kitchen.
Nothing feels real anymore, or the way it should be. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be that way in the first place. The divorce had been final weeks ago, sealing on paper what already existed in heart.
"You need some help, Faith?"
"Nah, I got it."
"Good, 'cause I wasn't gonna anyway."
He chides and finishes the soda, making a face at the flatness of it, the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth. She shoots him a teasing glare and dries her hands off, coming to sit across from him.
"The kids are with Fred, so --"
She leaves the sentence hang and he picks up after the drop-off.
"You doin' okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. You know, it gets easier."
She doesn't seem wholly convinced of this conviction and he doubts it as well, but there's a liberating sense of relief swimming in her eyes and he knows that soon she'll be happier than she's been in a long while.
"So, you need a ride tomorrow?"
"Well, I don't need a ride, but if you're offering, I might as well."
"Don't sound so excited."
She yawns, covering her mouth with her hand, and moves to stand up. His arm goes to hers, brushing softly against the long-sleeves of her faded sweatshirt.
"Get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow."
She nods, already half-asleep as it is, still managing a tired smile for his sake. He hesitates a moment, unsure of his place, then kisses her cheek softly, leaving before anything can be said.
*
Love, he thought, was overrated.
Necessary, of course, for the simple and broadest functions of life, but overrated -- mostly, because, he didn't have it; didn't know it. His past of course, affected his life; he built upon the fractured foundations of his broken childhood, hoping, above all, that he could one day find his peace.
He hadn't found it yet, not yet. But he was getting there. And she was the reason.
She didn't even know it perhaps, and sometimes, neither did he; but when he stopped to think, really think, he knew just how much he relied on the mere rise and fall of her chest. The city today was basked in faint gray hues, blotched and tinted with yellow lights from the streetlamps. The rain pelted steadily against the windshield of their cruiser and the wiper blades broke the silence.
It was too cold to be raining.
"I feel so alone, Boz."
This startles him. He tries to think of anything to reassure her, but the certainty escapes even him. So he says only what he knows.
"Well, you've got me."
A wide smile to boot, and this perks her up a little as they drive along, waiting for an end to the monotony, hoping for a break that won't involve tragedy.
"55-David."
The radio crackles and Bosco pulls the mike towards his mouth.
"Copy."
"We've got a 10-10 over on 50th. Report to scene."
"10-4, we're on our way."
He turns the wheel abruptly, tires squealing as he does, and floors the gas in the opposite direction.
*
Silence, in these situations, is always bad. It means someone's here, waiting to be found, taking extra care to remain silent. It means the shit's gonna hit the fan, he thinks, and tightens his hold on his gun, glancing at Faith in the semi-darkness.
A shuffle of feet behind him draws his attention away from his intended path. He motions to Faith and they head in opposite directions. The gun feels comfortable in his grasp, familiar and reliable, and his finger rests precariously against the trigger, waiting for movement, waiting to fire.
The noise comes from all around then, throwing his senses into an imbalance as he tries to pinpoint which direction they're coming from. What feels like a pipe comes down on his head, and he falls forward, dazed, the gun slipping from his tenuous grasp. One of the shadows picks it up, and in his haze, he sees it aimed at his own body, suddenly detached from himself as he continues to slip away.
The last thing he hears before the darkness comes is one final scream.
"Bosco!"
*
Consciousness comes in slow degrees; first, you come back to your mind, then you try to open your eyes; lastly, you search, or listen for a familiar face, familiar voice. Bosco's hand moves against the hospital sheets before his eyes are fully open and he struggles to part the heavy lids.
"Faith?" He whispers, his voice raspy and dry from lack of water and use.
"No, it's Sully. How you feelin'?"
His eyes fully open now, he turns to the voice, confusion written across his face.
"Like shit, Sul, what the hell do ya think?"
He raises a hand to his head, feeling the gauze over where he assumes they struck him with the pipe. He remembers his gun falling from his grasp, runs his hands over his body to check for any gunshot wounds. If they had fired, nothing penetrated his vest.
"Your weapon's missing, Bosco."
"What?"
It's a lot to think about all of a sudden, but he formulates enough thought to conjure up one final question, needing the reassurance of her safety before he can slip away again.
"Where's Faith?"
Sully looks to Ty, whose own head drops slightly, as if wanting to forget anything had happened at all. He looks back to Bosco, sighs, rubbing a hand across his face, and speaks evenly with an undercurrent of concern.
"We have no idea. She's missing, Bosco. You've been in the hospital for three days, no one's seen her since we found you. She wasn't there when we got there."
He pauses.
"She's gone."
He repeats it once more, as though to clarify that it's not simply a bad joke, that she is indeed gone. The finality of it hangs over the room like a sentence of death, and the fear is barely masked below the surface.
Bosco sits up as straight as he can manage.
The shit hit the fan, he thinks bitterly.
"God Almighty, when it rains, it fuckin' pours."
He closes his eyes and says a prayer and hopes to Heaven and back she'll still be a thought tomorrow.
*
TBC...
