To Ease the Guilt

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: Bosco and Faith are the property of "Third Watch" and NBC.

Author's Note: This idea came to me after watching the episode "Sex, Lies, & Videotape." I hated how they left Bosco and Faith at the end and couldn't resist the temptation to write an additional scene. I know this has been done many times before, but I just couldn't help myself. Please, take a second to let me know what you think by leaving a review or sending me an email at adalanta14@yahoo.com. I appreciate all feedback.

Oh, yeah. One more thing. For anyone that is interested, I do plan on continuing my story "Fire in the Mind" just as soon as possible. It will get finished, I promise. I'm just not sure when.

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I can't leave it like that. I…I just can't.

The same thought ran over and over in Faith Yokas' mind like a broken record as she lay staring blankly up at the ceiling of her bedroom. She was tired, exhausted really, but she couldn't sleep. It wasn't Fred, who was snoring gently by her side, his arm thrown around her waist that kept her awake. It wasn't the couple next door's television set blaring loudly. Lethal Weapon, she identified the movie after hearing the numerous gunshots through the thin wall separating the two apartments. It wasn't even the fierce burning in her chest from her last round of radiation therapy.

It was her conscience.

The overwhelming sense of guilt that refused to fade kept her dry eyes open and her exhausted mind alert.

And so she lay there, watching the bright green numbers ticking by, each minute going slower than the one before. She put up with it for three hours – three unbelievably long hours – and then it got to be more than she could handle. I can't leave him like this, she decided, sliding slowly and silently out from under Fred's arm and off of the bed. Without turning on the bedside lamp, she snagged a pair of baggy sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, and shoes, threw them on, and, within a couple of minutes, she slipped out the door of her apartment into the night, desperate to ease the guilt she felt.

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Standing in front of her partner's door, her determination and courage threatened to abandon her. She wavered, uncertain whether she should face him now or wait a couple of days for things to settle down. Sometimes, it's better to wait. Time can help things come into perspective. She took a couple of steps away from the door, but then stopped. Wait a minute. Who am I kidding? This is Bosco I'm talkin' about here. Time only makes things worse in his case.

Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, she glanced down at her watch. 5:00 a.m. God, how can I knock on his door at this time in the morning and say I wanna talk? What a freakin' mess! She paused, considering her options like any intelligent police officer. Okay. One, I could knock on the door and try to talk to him. 'Course, he's likely to scream at me and slam the door in my face if I do. Hmmm. Option One is definitely out. Fine. Two, I could go back home and forget about this for a day or so. You know, just give him some space. She sighed, shaking her head. Nope, that won't work either. Time is not my friend right now.

Geez, Faith, she told herself sarcastically. You can't even come up with a plan to confront your own partner.

Well, it's not like he's a perp. I'm coming to talk to him, not arrest him, she argued back.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered aloud, forcing herself to stop her nervous fidgeting and hold still. I just wanna make sure he's okay, that's all. I'll just let myself in, take a quick peek at him, and then leave. He'll never know I was here. Nodding, she searched the top of his doorframe for his spare key and opened the door, slipping inside.

Coming into Bosco's apartment from the dim hallway was like going instantly from night to day. Every single light in his apartment was on, from the small, corner lamp in his living room to the seldom (if ever) used light over his kitchen sink. Stepping further inside, she shut and locked the door behind her and moved quietly towards his open bedroom, her jaw hanging open, concern flooding her chest and competing for supremacy with the unceasing burning.

I knew Bos said he didn't like to sleep in the dark, but I never…The thought trailed off as her steps took her closer to the kitchen. She froze, paralyzed by what she saw: a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's and an open bottle of prescription drugs lying on the counter.

"Oh, no," she breathed in shock. "No, no, no. Bosco wouldn't be that stupid. He'd never mix those two together." But even as she mentally reassured herself, she found her body rushing to the counter, grabbing the bottle of pills and hurriedly dumping them out to count them.

"Twenty-nine," she muttered. "There's only twenty-nine, but the bottle says thirty. Where's the last one?" She quickly recounted, and, heart racing, she dropped to the white linoleum floor, frantically searching for the last pill, all the while fervently praying that she would find it here and that it was not in her partner's body, mixing lethally with the whiskey he'd consumed.

The tears filling her eyes made it difficult to see as she scrambled around on the floor on all fours, holding her sobs in by sheer force of will. "Please, please, be here. You've got to be here!" Just at that moment, her fingers brushed against the missing pill, wedged tightly underneath the black dishwasher. Clutching it in a shaking fist, she all but collapsed to the ground, leaning weakly against the kitchen cabinets. The relief that swept through her was like the crisp, invigorating spring wind that blew through the city after a sudden rainstorm, bringing with it the promise of better things to come.

It took several minutes to get her body under control and to calm her thumping. She'd just pulled herself together and gotten to her feet when a voice broke the apartment's deadly silence.

"Faith? Faith! FAITH!!!"

Bosco! She bolted for his bedroom, afraid of what she would find. As she crossed the threshold, her heart lurched at the sight.

Bosco was lying on his bed, arms and legs thrashing violently, fighting back against the shadows of his nightmare. He grimaced, moaning loudly as his every move aggravated his fractured ribs and battered body, his face contorted in pain and fear.

"Faith, where are you?! Help! Faith, help me!"

The heart-wrenching cries came again, jolting her out of her shocked reverie and into action. Hurrying to his side, she reached out a trembling hand to wake him, but then paused, not sure where she could touch him without causing more damage. His entire torso and both shoulders were a continuous mass of black, blue, and purple bruises. The ace bandage wrapped around his chest to support his injured ribs stood out starkly against his darkened skin. She winced as he flung his injured right hand hard against the bedside table and cried out in pain. Holding his right hand was completely out of the question.

Finally, in desperation, she caught his flailing left hand in hers and began to gently brush back the sweat dampened hair from his forehead with the other, careful to avoid his black eye and the numerous cuts that littered his face, all the while speaking words of comfort in a calm, soothing voice. "Shhhh, Bosco. I'm here. I'm here. Just relax. I'll help you. Shhhh, it's all right."

She repeated the words again and again until his abrupt movements slowed, and the tremors that racked his body ceased altogether. At long last, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of confused, unfocused brown eyes. He stared at her for a moment, trying to blink away the haunting remnants of his all-to-recent nightmare.

"Faith?" he whispered, licking dry, cracked lips with his tongue, squinting up at her.

"Yeah, Bos. It's me."

"Where were you?" he said in a soft, child-like voice. "I called and called, but you d-didn't come. Why didn't you come?" He looked up at her, the alcohol and pain achingly clear in his troubled eyes.

Her eyes filled again with tears as the guilt from earlier returned with a vengeance, causing her stomach to churn anxiously. She forced a small smile but could not meet his vulnerable gaze. "I'm sorry, Bos. But I'm here now."

She spied a small glass of water on his bedside stand and offered it to him, holding up his head so he could drink without spilling. "There. That better?" She watched as the nightmare disengaged its sharp claws from him, and the residual effects of the alcohol disappeared, leaving behind a coherent and pissed off Maurice Boscorelli.

She flinched visibly as he jerked his hand out of her grip and glared at her, anger darkening his gaze. She nearly fled before his accusing glare, but she took a deep breath and held her ground, cringing inside at what was sure to come next.

"What are you doing here?" he growled through clenched teeth.

She glanced down briefly at the floor and then back up, replying in as even a tone as possible, unable to hide the reluctance in her voice. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"How thoughtful of you. I'm fine," he answered, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Well, your job's done, now leave. Go away." He rolled over onto his right side, placing his bruised, bare back between them. It was clearly a dismissal.

She swallowed. "Bos…"

"Leave…me…alone." He ground out, cutting off any explanation she had to offer.

She stood up, stung by his words and his actions and began to leave. As she reached the door, she gave one last look back. He looked so pitiful and lonely, lying curled up on the mattress, that she knew she couldn't leave him like that. I came here to tell him I was sorry…to explain what happened. If I leave now, this will always stand between us. And I will not let that happen!

"No," she said sharply, twisting around and walking around to the other side of the bed to face him. "I'm not leaving until you've heard what I've gotta say."

Snagging a nearby chair, she pulled it next to the bed and looked him directly in the face. Ignoring the fact that he refused to meet her eyes, she began. "Look. I'm sorry about what happened today. I should have been there to back you up, but I wasn't, and it's because of me that you got hurt. It's all my fault. When I think of what could have happened…Bosco, when I saw you lying in that hallway, so still, I…I thought I'd lost you." Faith's voice quivered with emotion, and she had to pause for a minute to steady it. "I almost got you killed today. I understand if you hate me and want another partner. I just wanted you to hear me out."

She brushed angrily at the tears running down her cheeks and closed her eyes, bowing her head in defeat at his continued wall of silence. "I wish to God I could go back and redo everything that happened today, but I can't. I can't do that. No one can. I'm sorry, Bos. I'm sorry I came to work when I should've stayed home. I'm sorry I wasn't there to back you up. I'm sorry that I screwed up and got you hurt. I am so sorry!" Her voice broke on the last word, and she couldn't hold in her sobs any longer. Tears steaming down her face, she moved to stand up but was stopped by a hand on her arm. Startled, her red eyes flew open.

There was Bosco, staring at her, his own eyes glistening suspiciously in the bright light of the room.

"I don't hate you, Faith," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I could never hate you. You're…you're my partner, my best friend. And that's why your lying hurts so much. We're partners, Faith. Don't you remember what we agreed two years ago? There are no secrets between partners.* How could you hide something like this from me? Why didn't you tell me? I coulda been there for you, helped you." His wounded gaze bored into hers, eyes filled with pain.

A pain that I caused, she realized miserably. "I – I didn't – " she stammered.

"You didn't trust me." He ruthlessly interrupted. "We've been partners for so many years, and you still don't trust me. God, Faith! What do I have to do to earn your trust?! I trust you more than I trust my own family!" He clenched his jaw, the muscle twitching visibly in his left cheek. "You're the only one who's always been there for me," he added softly.

"But not today," she said tearfully.

"No…not today." He sighed heavily and then winced, wrapping his left arm around his chest, obviously in pain. "And that's the problem," he groaned. "I need to know if you're goin' to be there for me the next time. I need to know that I can trust you. Because, Faith – if we can't trust each other, this partnership is over."

She grabbed his left hand and stared intently into his eyes. "I swear I'll always be there for you, Bosco. Always."

He gazed deeply into her blue eyes, searching for the truth, and she held her breath, pouring all of the love, trust, sincerity, and faith that she possessed into her eyes for him to see. After a long, tense silence, he nodded once and squeezed her hand tightly. "All right, partner." He smiled tenderly at her but then grew serious. "Oh. There is one more thing."

"Yeah? What?"

"You look like hell, Yokas," he grinned widely. "Why don't you crash here?" He tugged on her hand, trying to get her closer to the bed. "I promise I'll behave myself as long as you stay on your side and don't steal the covers."

She raised her eyebrows at him, her exhausted body screaming at her to listen to his suggestion. If I go back home now, I'll probably fall asleep on the train, and end up who knows where. "Well…I am kinda tired." She hedged, then laughed out loud when he gave her his best wide-eyed innocent schoolboy look. "Okay, Bos. But if Fred ever finds out about this, I'm dead – and so are you."

"Then he won't find out. You're just gonna have to trust me."

Stepping around to the other side of the bed, she carefully eased her aching body onto the mattress, trying not to jar his ribs and cause him any more pain. Despite her caution, she heard his sharp intake of breath and the soft, nearly inaudible, moan that escaped his lips. "You sure you're okay?" she asked quietly.

It took a few seconds for him to answer, and even then, he spoke in a strained, breathless voice. "Yeah…I'm fine."

"Look, Bos. Maybe I oughta go sleep on the couch. I don't wanna make you feel worse than you already do."

"No!" he settled gingerly onto his back, his left hand groping for hers on the bed. "No, Faith. Please. Stay here. I don't want you to leave. I need to know you're here."

She couldn't deny his heartfelt plea. "All right. I'll stay – if you're sure…"

"I'm sure," he reassured her quickly.

Silence filled the air. Faith tried to go to sleep, but found, once again, that it was impossible. She turned her head to look at her partner and was relieved to find that his eyes were closed and his face was relaxed, his breathing even. She studied his features, memorizing – no, burning – every single detail into her mind as if it were the last time she would ever see him.

The overwhelming sense of guilt that had ravaged her soul all night long had finally dissipated, but the fear remained a permanent fixture in her mind. She kept going back to the scene in the kitchen, when she'd feared her partner might've made a deadly mistake. She'd been completely and utterly terrified. Even now, the mere thought sent her pulse racing, a thick ball of ice forming inside her knotted stomach. She saw everything happening in slow motion over and over in her mind, her fear growing with each repetition. Finally, something within her broke, releasing the terror that soon threatened to drown her. She knew that only one person could make it go away.

"Bosco?" she called softly, not wanting to disturb him, and yet needing to. She hoped he wasn't truly asleep.

He wasn't. "Yeah, Faith?"

"You really scared me, ya know."

Bosco rolled his head over on his pillow to face her, a puzzled frown marring his peaceful features. "I was just doing my job. You of all people know how dangerous police work can – "

She cut him off. "No. I'm not talking about last night's chase."

His frown deepened. "Then, what are you talking about?"

"I saw what you had in the kitchen, Bos." She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat, suddenly nervous. "I saw the whiskey and the open bottle of pills. I got scared. You were so upset – I thought…well, I didn't know what to think," she finished lamely.

She saw his body stiffened in anger and his relaxed face harden into stone. "I didn't take one, Faith. Do you think I'm stupid? I know what can happen when alcohol and drugs mix. You don't really think I'd…?" He stared at her hard, and, ashamed, she looked away. "Oh, man, you do," he breathed in disbelief, disappointment filling his voice. "I would never, ever, do that, Faith. I don't care how tough things got or how bad I hurt, I would never do it."

"Then why were they both out?"

"I…" he hesitated, shifting his gaze to the ceiling, clearly reluctant to explain. "You know how much I hate taking medication. I even have problems taking Tylenol. Sure, I got the pills out and looked at 'em. I even thought about taking one, but I couldn't." He glanced over at her out of the corner of his swollen left eye. "I won't lie to you, Faith. My ribs hurt like hell, and I knew there was no way I'd be gettin' to sleep without something to take the edge off the pain. I needed something. I didn't know what else to do."

She was quiet for a moment, mulling over all that he'd said, and, deep in her heart, she understood his reasoning. "Did it help?"

He gave a little laugh and then grimaced, his breath catching in pain. "A little," he admitted after a brief pause, "but not enough."

"Awww, poor baby," she grinned, unable to resist a quick jab at his discomfort, remembering all of the times he'd given her grief during PMS. "Now you know how I felt when I got whacked with that lead pipe."

"Gee, thanks, Faith. Your sympathy is overwhelming."

Yeah, he's definitely feeling better, she thought. Almost sounds like his old self. "You're welcome, Bos. Now, be quiet and let me go to sleep." With that, she rolled over and let her exhausted body finally relax into the soft mattress, drawing the covers up to her chin. Within minutes, she was sound asleep.

* See my previous story, "No Secrets Between Partners."