"Bos'?" Faith called as she jogged down the alley way, her gun drawn. He'd been several yards away, he had always been a great sprinter, and had disappeared around the corner into the side street after the frantic suspect.

There came no answer, but she thought nothing of it and turned left. She paused, glancing both ways, scanning the lunch crowd of a café for her partner or the man in question who had decided running was a better option than compliance.

Faith looked right and saw another alley, so she ran toward it, only to be pummeled by the suspect as he charged through, not paying attention as he turned his head to look behind himself. The two fell to the ground and she instinctively rolled, but the man was quicker. He was up and flying off before she could gain her footing.

Suddenly she was aware that her partner was no where to be seen. Uneasiness spilled into her chest and settled there. She knew something had happened to him, because Bosco was not the kind of officer to fall behind. He was the gazelle. There was no way he'd have let the prick gain that much speed. Maybe he lost him somewhere. Maybe he's looking for him. Faith pulled her collar up and spoke into her radio. "5-5 David, suspect is fleeing on foot east on 103rd. Requesting assistance. I repeat, suspect is heading east on 103rd." She paused for a second, then pressed the dial in once more. "Bosco?"

No answer.

She turned up the volume at her belt and listened, but all she heard was the sound of her own breathing as it came out in short gasps.

"Bos'?" she tried again and began to run down the alley that the suspect had exited. The silence was maddening.

Faith glanced this way and that, behind the dumpsters and under boxes haphazardly strewn about. Still no sign of him or an answer. She was about to round a corner to the back of the store, when she saw the slight glimpse of the black shoe of a person lying on the ground. Her heart thudded in her chest. Bosco.

"5-5 David, Central, 10-13! 10-13! Officer down! Send a bus, 103rd and 3rd!"

"10-4, 5-5 David. 103rd and 3rd," came a non-descript female voice.

Faith scrambled to the unmoving body, sobs threatening to surface from her throat, and she grimaced at the sight. Bosco was lying on his back, his left arm resting by his head. His temple revealed an angry gash, streaming with blood. The wound had already begun to bruise around the laceration. She knelt down and brought his hands up, placing them at his side. She bent over, her ear inches from his lips and listened intently for breathing. A light, shallow wisp of air emitted from his mouth. At least he was breathing.

Faith knew Bosco was unconscious, but she spoke to him as if she'd been talking to one of her children. "It's okay, Bos', the medics are on their way. We'll get you checked out and everything will be fine." She said this more for herself than for him or anyone else. He grimaced slightly and moved his head a little. "Don't move, Bos'. Not yet." She pet the short brown strands of his hair affectionately.

Then a voice called out, it was Kim. "All right, where ya at?"

"Over here!" Faith shouted, holding Bosco as he weakly shook his head.

Kim and Carlos scrambled over, pausing at first for a double take, then placed a backboard next to him along with their medical bag. Faith moved away and anxiously watched Kim wrap a c-collar around her partner's neck and strapped it closed. Bosco didn't protest, sending a bolt of fear driving to her gut.

Carlos opened Bosco's jacket and removed it, along with the Kevlar vest and pulled up the white undershirt. He pressed a stethoscope to his chest and listened intently as Kim pulled back his eyelids, shining a penlight in them.

"Pupils are unequal and reactive," she muttered, then placed a gauze pad over the bleeding wound. She taped it to his skin with expert fingers.

"Decreased breath sounds on the left. Pulse, 110. BP is…" Carlos operated the blood pressure cuff. "102/60. Let's start 10 liters of oxygen by mask."

Faith stood up when she saw Davis and Sullivan run up to them.

"What happened?" Sully asked, staring at the young fallen officer, whose face had been engulfed by the oxygen mask.

"I-I don't know. We were chasing a suspect and I think the guy cold-cocked him, or something. Next thing I know the perp rams into me and takes off."

"All right," Carlos said as he and Kim turned him and placed Bosco onto the backboard. "Let's go." They strapped him down and set him onto a stretcher, buckled him and pushed him into the ambulance.

"I'm going with!" Faith cried. Kim nodded at Carlos and he waved her over.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

"33-year-old male, head wound with laceration, decreased breath sounds on the left. Resps are 10, BP is 100/58, pulse 125. Pupils are unequal but reactive, possible skull fracture and tension pneumo."

Proctor glanced at Bosco worriedly as Carlos ran off several other medical terms, but remained professional as she, the paramedics and some other personnel joined them in the trauma room.

Faith stood just outside, watching silently as they stripped her partner down to his bare flesh, then hooked him up to various machines. She turned away and closed her eyes.

TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW

Bosco groaned as he awoke, pain coursing through his skull fiercely, seemingly unwilling to stop. His left side throbbed with every heartbeat. It was painful to move and breathe, so he lay still, hoping that the sensations would cease or at least lessen on their own.

What the hell happened? He thought as he recognized the familiar beeping sound of a heart monitor and cool mist filtering over his mouth and nose, which had to be an oxygen mask.

"Bosco?" Faith's voice wavered and a hand touched his cheek.

"What?" he grumbled. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell she was grinning.

"Open your eyes, dammit."

"Mmm…" he sighed, but opened his eyes to reveal Faith staring into his face. He was lying in a hospital bed, the lights were dimmed and he could smell familiar disinfectant.

"Don't try to move much, Bos'. You were hit pretty hard."

That explains the headache.

Faith noticed his pained expression, but relief drowned out her worry. "You have a concussion and a punctured lung."

"How long – " his voice was raspy so he cleared his throat as gently as possible. "How long have I been out?"

"A few hours."

He brought his hand up and winced. The IV site was sore. He fingered his side tenderly, running his hand over the chest tube protruding from between his ribs. "Nice."

"Yeah. I watched them jam that sucker into you. It was really gross."

"So did I break anything else?"

"Well, your head for one, and then a couple of ribs."

"Great. This is going to be fun," he grumbled. He closed his eyes in irritation.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm gonna hafta ride a desk for a while, you know I hate that."

Faith sighed, and chuckled. Typical Bosco. Could have easily died a few hours ago, and all he was concerned about was being cooped up in the precinct. Her vision blurred from the tears which prickled at the corners of her eyes and she sniffed loudly. He glanced over at her and frowned.

"Faith?"

"Yeah, Bos'?"

"I'm going to be okay."

"I know."

A few seconds passed before his right hand fumbled around until he gripped hers and he squeezed it. He watched her head dip and she pressed her mouth to his knuckles.

Yes. Everything was all right.