The Human Stain
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Third Watch. I just play with the characters when I have a moment or two to think.
This is not based on the movie of the same title and I don't claim any ownership to that either.
A/N This fic was written during Season 5 when Faith returned to active duty. This is my take on her feelings towards Cruz and was inspired by a fic written by Orison/Stella
Enjoy
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Monroe and I arrive just as the detectives are wrapping up their review of the scene, a drug shoot-out involving Anti-Crime.
It seems like hours later when it all starts to sink in. I stand there and stare at the blood that stains my hand. It's really not much of a stain, just a smear of red across the side of my right hand. I turn slowly trying to figure out how it got there and my eyes are drawn to the blood glistening on the pavement.
There is so much blood. It's hard to believe that it came from that bitch. Who knew she had a heart?
I shake my head as these thoughts flash across my brain and I berate myself for thinking that way. I look back down at my hand. The red darkens as the blood begins to dry ever so slowly.
The blood...how could anyone survive losing that much blood? She's as good as dead and my true feelings come gushing up from the pit of my stomach. I hate her with every fibre in my body and by association I hate the stain on my hand. I don't care if she dies. I don't care if she suffers.
I stare at my hand. This is her stain. The stain she left on me. The stain of her hatred and anger and her conniving little heart. I close my eyes and all I see is the look she had on her face just before she shot me in that hotel room.
If that bitch thinks I'm going to cry over her, she's got another thing coming. If she thinks I'm going to bust my ass trying to find who did this to her, then she's going to be surprised. If that bitch thinks I'm going to wait at the hospital for news on he condition then she's going to have to wait a long time, 'cause I ain't gonna give her any satisfaction.
All I can think about is how she's no longer gonna be a part of my life and better yet, no longer a part of Bosco's life. I'll get him back, and not just half way.
I finally realize just how much pull she has over Bosco, even when they're at each other's throats. He'll forget all about her once she's dead and buried. He won't have to get upset when she comes sauntering into the locker room or when she gives him a smirk to piss him off. No, she's not gonna have a hold on him any longer. I smile to myself as I turn my hand over and look at the stain.
The detectives are done trying to pick through the evidence and the firemen push past me as they try to hose the area down. I watch as the reddened water rushes along the sidewalk and is swallowed by the gutter and down into the sewer. I laugh as I think that's exactly where the last remnants of that bitch belong.
I feel a sense of victory, a sense of vindication and I don't give a damn what anyone else feels or thinks.
I scrub the side of my hand against the light post, scraping off the dried blood. I step towards the bucket boys and shove my hand under the hose and then wash away the last hold she has on me.
I watch in utter fascination as the street is cleansed of her evil. I feel a kind of relief as a heavy weight lifts from my shoulders.
I forgive myself for wanting that Cruz bitch out of my life. I forgive myself for wanting a New York City Policeman dead. I forgive myself for feeling this way. I am finally free of her.
I turn away from the scene and make my way slowly back to the squad. Monroe is speaking to one of the detectives. She looks back at me with mournful eyes but I'm not gonna pretend that I'm upset by this.
"Faith?" She says as she moves towards me.
"Let's go. There's nothing for us to do here. Everything is under control." I say and realize that's exactly how I feel – in control - now that she's out of my life.
"Faith..." Monroe's voice cracks and she starts to tear up, "I'll take you to the hospital."
"And why the hell would I want to be at the hospital," I yell, my so-called control dissipating into the warm night air.
"Faith...it's Bosco." Monroe whimpers.
"What? Is he over there crying over her." I shout. "This is unbelievable, " I hiss contemptuously under my breath. I should have known he'd be the first one there, by her side, holding her hand.
"Faith, no..." Monroe shakes her head and stares down at the spot on the ground where the blood has just been washed away, "it's Bosco." She looks back up at me.
Her words suddenly start to make sense to me...it's Bosco...not Cruz...it's Bosco....it's Bosco's blood.
I turn my hand over quickly. The stain is gone. Bosco's blood is gone. I turn back to the lamppost, but at this distance I can't make anything out.
"Faith, we gotta go, now." Monroe grabs at my arm and pushes me towards the RMP.
I sit in the car but all I think of is the blood. There was so much blood. No one could survive losing that much blood. I look and I look but I can't find any blood on my hand.
I try to feel his stain on me; the stain of our 10-year partnership, the stain of our friendship but I let my hatred for her wash it away from me.
I stare at my hand as if wishing could make a difference. I'd do anything to get that stain back. Anything.
I take a long slow breath. And hold my hand up towards the window. How could I have washed it all away? I keep staring at my hand, there has to be a little bit left. I feel Monroe's eyes on me.
"Faith, what's wrong?" She asks quietly.
"There was a stain." I say and shove my hand towards her. "I washed it away because I thought it was hers."
Monroe looks at my hand and then slowly turns back to watch the road. Her hands grip the wheel tighter and she clenches her mouth shut to hold back her tears.
"There was a stain..." I choke on the word as I take a closer look at my hand. My heart constricts with pain. I feel dirty calling it a stain because it wasn't just a stain, it was a piece of Bosco, and it was a piece of my heart.
The end