TITLE: Mea Culpa

AUTHOR: Liquid Thalassa

E-MAIL: liquidthalassa@yahoo.com

RATING: PG for a tiny bit of swearing

SPOILERS: General form Cruz

SUMMARY: Musings from Cruz.

DISCLAIMER: Third Watch belongs to John Wells and Warner Brothers.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This just came to me last night. It's intended to be a one- shot. And don't worry I'm still working on 'Shattered- part 3' (it should be up sometime this week)!

Here's the fic:

She couldn't keep this up any longer. It was eating at her inside, killing her. The tough-bitch masquerade was starting to crack, to falter. And Maritza Cruz never faltered.

Until now.

So she went to work, trying to ignore the glances and hushed whispers as she passed, trying her best not to let the jerks get to her. But it didn't work. She walked into the locker room, a place she long forgotten-sergeants after all didn't have to dress for work. And she stood there, taking in the cracked floor, the battered lockers, the smell of stale air and something else she couldn't identify. Opening her locker she saw it. Her uniform. There was a time she was a good cop- a great one even.

Until now.

What the hell happened, she would ask herself over in over. What the hell happened? She didn't know, couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it all went bad. That was a lie, and she knew. It was Lettie. Lettie died and she lost grip on the world. Everything tunneled and all that mattered was the job; catching Beauford at any costs. Revenge.

Until now.

Payback was a bitch, she knew that now. Karma coming back full force to bite her on the ass. Cases lost, skells released from jail, prison, the rotten holes where they belonged. Everything she did, everything she worked so hard for was taken. That wasn't all she lost. Pride, integrity, respect; all gone. Nothing was worse that living in an empty shell, and that's what she felt like. Empty, devoid of anything but loss and pain. She used to have people to talk to. Friends, coworkers, partners.

Until now.

No one wanted to be associated with her. Dirty, vengeful, careless, cold, inhuman. Her Anti-Crime partners long gone, after all she did for them, after all they accomplished. Gone. She was alone. Just as well she though. Everything I touch gets ruined, everything I touch leaves. I'm poison, she told herself buttoning the last button on her navy blue uniform. Poison.

She looked around the locker-room, noting the sound of fabric against fabric and the clink of metal. Someone was there. Closing her locker she walked around to the other side. Bosco. He looked up meeting her eyes. She was afraid of what hers gave away. Pain, hurt, guilt, hope. Did he hate her? Could her forgive all her indiscretions? His eyes told her nothing. She walked closer to him. There used to be a time when they were close.

Until now.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. To explain. To understand. But he didn't want to listen. Not to her. Sergeant Maritza Cruz, mistake of his life. He didn't understand he was the only person that mattered to her anymore, he couldn't understand. She stopped just short of arms length, clearing her throat. He looked at her taking his eyes off the task of putting on his vest. He waited.

"Mea culpa, Boscorelli." She whispered.

"What?" He asked slight irritation in his tone.

" Mea Culpa. Noun. Derives from Latin. An Acknowledgement of a personal error or fault." She told him and with that Maritza Cruz walked out. She could only hope he could at least acknowledged that.

Mea culpa. It's my fault. I'm sorry.

A/N: This just came to me last night, I thought it was relatively good and decided to post it. I think there should be more fics with Cruz portrayed in a more human light. It's become my new mission! Lol. So hope everyone enjoyed it. Let me know what you think. I'm going to start thinking/writing Shattered- part 3 *really* soon! Look out for that, and any other fics I whip up! Thanks.