Disclaimer: I don't own Third Watch, nor Bosco... if only. So please don't sue.
A/N: Ok, so this is just a tiny little story that I wrote--a ficlet really. Please review, if you have it constructive criticism would be of the good. (:
Edit: Worked over, and edited as of 6/24/05
4 steps
Bosco stood across the street from the old apartment building, which had seen better days. It stood only two stories high, and the color had faded long ago. The little patch of pavement that separated if from the street wasn't much more then that, a space that told people where the road began.
But Bosco didn't really feel any pity for the men and women that lived there, junkies-mostly. He frowned as about four kids ran around the corner, chasing each other, playing tag. The kids, those he felt bad for. There parents didn't care enough for them to keep them in this early in the morning. No one was even watching them.
Bosco drove his hands deeper into his front pockets as the children chased each other back into the building. He blew out a breath, and looked through the thin mist as a car passed him by, he let his eyes track it until it was out of site.
That was something else he noticed, not many cars passed by this almost deserted part of New York. He shook his head; he hadn't realized how many distractions there were here to distract him. His eyes traveled up to the second story window on the very end.
His father lived in that room. After that night in the cab he had felt a need to talk to him again, this time make him look at him, make him listen. He had his life pulled together now, yet he felt that something was still missing. And he was pretty sure that the missing part was living in Room A12.
It had taken a while, but he had gotten the address out of Mikey. Bosco knew that if his mother knew he was doing this she would be dead set against it. But this was his choice. He nodded and took a step, then another before stopping. He was no longer afraid of his father, why was this so hard?
As the thought ran across his mind a voice in his head asked;
"Then why, on your day off, did you bring along your extra gun?"
The gun in mind weighed heavily in his leg holster. Why did that stupid little voice seem to be mocking him? He took two more steps. He had been here three times before today, and hadn't even taken a step. He figured that he had four up on it.
He looked up as the Curtin in his fathers room waved. He took a deep breath, and turned around. Not today. Not today, but he had taken four steps today, maybe tomorrow he could take the other four, and get to the door.
He wouldn't do it stupidly and ruin everything that he had worked so hard to get under control. He would do it slow, but the point was, that he would do it.
The End