Disclaimer: Don't own the gosh darn show, unfortunately.
A/N: This fic was co-authored by Anti-Social-Turtle and Spooky-girl. Enjoy and review!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bosco sighed into his glass, well into his third beer of the night. He'd stopped by Kitten Disco after work for a quick drink, but soon found himself staring into his glass, thinking more than he wanted to. Fortunately, the drinking was affecting his ability to do so, so it looked like that wouldn't be a problem for much longer.
His lazy finger traveled along the smooth edge of his glass. The small squeak of the liquid as it was pulled over the edge sent a chill down his spine and he jumped to attention, downing the last of that shot.
~ I'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all my childish fears~
He leaned over to an older gentleman. He seemed to be enthralled in whatever ballgame was illuminating the television, "Don't you love it?" He glanced down at his glass, and ordered another.
The man turned to him, eyes slightly glassy, and slurred a reply that Bosco couldn't quite make out. He shrugged it off, not really caring. A little conversation was fine, but he didn't really crave it.
He sighed again, signaling the bartender to give him a refill. The barkeep was a decent man, in his opinion. Never made too much conversation, never tried to ask what was wrong, or how he was feeling. He just kept it flowing, never trying to give him the 'you've had enough' speech.
Bosco finished off yet another drink. By this time he could no longer differentiate the hard burning alcohol from any other beverage; helping it slide down faster. His attention was again drawn away from the shiny empty glass; this time by the chiming bell, signaling a new costumer had entered the bar.
~ And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave~
What in case the owner got too zonked out of his mind to see the door open? Bosco thought to himself in a drunken laugh.
The person, gender unknown to the tipsy cop, paused at the entrance, surveying the bar, looking for someone.
She ain't here, man, Bosco thought to himself, no one's ever here.
~ Your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone~
He toyed with his glass, sloshing what little liquid was left against the sides before tossing it down with ease, swallowing the harsh liquid with a satisfied grimace, then looking up to the doorway again. The person was gone this time.
Bosco soon found out where the figure had gone as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Hey! Mike-ey!" he grabbed his hand from off his shoulder and threw it down in utter disgust. He suddenly became lucid enough to make out his brothers face. He gave him a deathly stare and then nodded to the vacant seat beside him.
"Look, I can't stay," Mikey spoke in a jittery fashion before looking over his shoulders, "they're after me. . . your people, you gotta stop them, Mo."
"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Bosco said, still slurring, but his voice turning cold.
"Look," Mikey said, looking over his shoulders again, "I can't really say much."
Bosco glared at his brother, his glazed eyes searching his brother's face, "You usin', Mikey?"
"No, no!" Mikey said, shaking his head, "I'm clean, Mo. I swear. That's kinda what I need to talk to you about."
Bosco gave his brother another look over. His smaller hands were shaking and he tried to compensate for it by fidgeting around. Sweat collected on his forehead and his teeth chattered involuntarily. Tell tale signs of drug use in Bosco's book.
"Don't lie to me Michael!" He absconded his younger brother.
~ These wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase~
Mikey fidgeted even more; seemingly unable to keep any part of his body still for more than a fraction of a second. He wiped nervously at his forehead, then shook his head again, "No, Mo, really, come on, man, I'm your brother. You gotta trust me. I'm clean!"
Bosco shook his head and spun slightly in his chair to face Mikey, "Like hell you are," he sais smoothly under his breath, "then whose after you? Huh?"
Mikey tried to look at him but his gaze shot straight through him, "You gotta help me. Please, you know her," he lowered his tone, "I don't think she came back right, you know? A little off her rocker?"
It suddenly dawned on him as sirens broke the silent night air, he was talking about his partner.
Mikey's expression turned into one of panic as the siren's drew closer, closer, until it was obvious they were right outside the bar.
~ When you'd cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
and I've held your hand through all of these years~
Patrons looked up, wondering what was going on, some ducking out the back way to avoid confrontation that might possibly be meant for them.
Bosco knew his brother would want to do the same, and stood up, blocking his way. "This for you?"
Mikey opened his mouth to reply, but just then the door slammed open, the bell jingling mercilessly, and heads turned.
"Police, nobody move!" Faith Yokas shouted.
~ But you still have all of me~
Bosco's eyes shifted between his brother to Faith. Two totally different parts of his life; parts that he'd struggled to keep separate now fell together.
"What you getting him on?" Bosco paced sideways closer to Faith and put his hand up to signal the lowering of her gun. Sasha looked on at the scene feeling somewhat like an intruder.
"What am I not?" Faith snapped, looking past Bosco. "B&E, pushing, using..."
Bosco looked at his brother, searching him with hard eyes. He wanted desperately to believe his brother, yet nothing in the past gave him a reason to.
Helplessly, he stood there, feeling a drunken fool. It was between his partner, the woman he had trusted with his life more times than he could count. The woman he'd almost gotten killed...
Then there was his brother. He'd taken countless beatings to protect him, some so bad he thought they'd surely be his last. He would do anything to shelter his brother...
So the question it boiled down to was: is blood really thicker than water?
~ You used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now I'm bound by the life you left behind~
You could cut the tension with a knife, you could judge time by the beating of ones heart. Bosco moved closer to Mikey, still blocking his path and turned his nose up at a bulge in his jacket pocket.
His hand dove into the pocket and retrieved a plastic bag. This bag held at least a dozen smaller envelopes of white powder, "This you stash, or just another customers order?" He asked, all but shoving the bag in Mikey's face, "I thought you claimed to be clean, huh Mikey?"
Mikey shook his head fervently, "No, I'm just...holding it for a guy I know. I'm not using, and I'm not selling!"
"Possession is still illegal," Sasha butted in for the first time.
Bosco sent her a glare, then turned back to his brother, eyes narrowing. "What the hell, Mikey?"
His brother took a step back, not trying to run, just to get away from his brother's anger.
Faith stood there, still holding her gun, but pointing it at the floor. Her expression was asking Bosco 'what do you want me to do?'
By this time Mikey had backed himself into a slightly more narrow hallway in the bar. This hall housed the restrooms, which smelt even more like a Methadone Lab then the bar smelt like a brewery.
A man staggered out of the restroom, instantly spotting Mikey, and a man he had not yet identified. Thought the police went unnoticed.
They dark man spoke, "You got it, right?" His voice was fluid and even, obvious to Bosco that his hits hadn't come few and far between; he showed little signs of withdrawal while Mikey was nearly in full-blown convulsions.
Mikey stumbled back a step, eyes wide. The man followed, staggering closer, reaching out a hand. "You got it!?"
And there, in the light, the man was identified.
"Dad."
~ Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me~
Bosco spat the word, more a curse than a statement. Faith's eyes traveled from one Boscorelli to the next, unsure, gun coming up to her hips.
"What the-?" Anthony Boscorelli said, suddenly realizing they were not alone.
It only took an instant, but it seemed more like a lifetime. One second they were staring, confused. And in the next, the light flashing off the barrel of a gun seemed to blind them.
~ These wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase~
"Crap, Dad, what the fuck you doin' with that!?" Mikey sputtered seeing Bosco freeze in his shoes. It seemed everyone was glued to the floor for an instant before Bosco made a move.
He shot his head at his father, disgusted by the figure of the man who stood before him. His hand slowly found its way down to his side and in one foul swoop, he bent his knee, pulled his ankle up to view and drew his off duty gun from it.
"Don't either of you dare move," he eyes didn't move, yet he spoke volumes with them.
"Bos, what the hell are you doing?" Faith moved closer to her real partner and pulled her gun straight out, just as Bosco held his.
"What I should've done along time ago," Bosco seethed. "Dad, drop the gun or I swear to god I'll kill you."
"Think you have the guts?" his Dad asked coldly, his eyes trained directly on his son's. "Think you could really do it, Maurice?"
Bosco wanted to shiver, but fought the chill, not willing to show any weakness.
"I won't let you hurt me again," Bosco said, "There are too many people I care about it this room."
~When you'd cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
and I've held your hand through all of these years~
For a moment all that could be heard was the flow of stale breath; but that was instantly shattered when a single bullet was discharged from an unknown gun, landing itself in a harmless bottle of whiskey. All three of the men sprung to attention and came to realize it came from the eldest.
Bosco's free hand immediately reached to knock the gun from his. A war of hands and feet began ending with them on the floor. Bosco held his fathers gunned hand out above their head, while his fathers other hand was wrapped around his older sons neck, "We always end up like this huh?" He forced out.
Bosco's chest heaved; his arms trembled with the effort of holding off his father's attack.
"That's what I'd like to know," he said in a strangled voice.
Anthony grinned insanely and tightened his grip on his son's throat. He cackled softly as Bosco's face grew red. "You wanna know why?"
Bosco nodded his head feebly, craning his neck to see Faith behind him, making all attempt to pulls his father off of him and resolve the problem with out it getting any uglier. His head was the thrown to the right by his fathers menacing grip; his cloudy eyes made out his brothers shaking form.
"Because you're just as rotten as I am, you just hide it under all the blue," he suddenly broke free as Bosco's weakened body caved in on top of the larger man. Bosco's gun flew free of grasp, giving Anthony ample opportunity of which he seized.
"I don't see it here to protect you now," he poked the barrel of the gun into his sons flesh and nodded in Faiths direction. More bullets flew in a fierce battle of good and evil, the outcome blurred for those who took part.
For the second time that night, time stretched. Bosco felt his father's grip slacken, and he quickly collapsed, rolling at the last second, landing hard on his back, next to his father.
Time resumed and Bosco's world began to fade in and out. Faith's pallid face loomed above his shadowed eyes, seemingly circling between expressions of grief and panic.
"Faith, I shot him," he stuttered on the words before he began to choke on them, "damn it hurts…"
"I know." She smoothly held her cold hand to his face and took a calming breath.
~ But you still have all of me~
"I know." She smoothly held her cold hand to his face and took a calming breath.
~ But you still have all of me~
"How is he?" Bosco asked in a raspy voice.
"He's..." Faith spared a look at the older Boscorelli. "Alive."
"Damn," Bosco said, attempting a laugh.
Faith winced as he stiffened, a hand going to his side, where blood poured, soaking his shirt, staining his hands red.
Bosco stared at that hand, knowing that some of the blood was his father's. His entire body ached with that knowledge, and the pain of his wound.
"Faith...is it okay that I'm scared?"
~When you'd cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
and I've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me
me, me~
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Okay...so, Spooky, me, is gonna be gone until Friday. So, no updates until then! :( I know, I know, you're heartbroken, right?
Yeah...anyway, no killing my fellow author!!!
A/N: This fic was co-authored by Anti-Social-Turtle and Spooky-girl. Enjoy and review!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bosco sighed into his glass, well into his third beer of the night. He'd stopped by Kitten Disco after work for a quick drink, but soon found himself staring into his glass, thinking more than he wanted to. Fortunately, the drinking was affecting his ability to do so, so it looked like that wouldn't be a problem for much longer.
His lazy finger traveled along the smooth edge of his glass. The small squeak of the liquid as it was pulled over the edge sent a chill down his spine and he jumped to attention, downing the last of that shot.
~ I'm so tired of being here
suppressed by all my childish fears~
He leaned over to an older gentleman. He seemed to be enthralled in whatever ballgame was illuminating the television, "Don't you love it?" He glanced down at his glass, and ordered another.
The man turned to him, eyes slightly glassy, and slurred a reply that Bosco couldn't quite make out. He shrugged it off, not really caring. A little conversation was fine, but he didn't really crave it.
He sighed again, signaling the bartender to give him a refill. The barkeep was a decent man, in his opinion. Never made too much conversation, never tried to ask what was wrong, or how he was feeling. He just kept it flowing, never trying to give him the 'you've had enough' speech.
Bosco finished off yet another drink. By this time he could no longer differentiate the hard burning alcohol from any other beverage; helping it slide down faster. His attention was again drawn away from the shiny empty glass; this time by the chiming bell, signaling a new costumer had entered the bar.
~ And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave~
What in case the owner got too zonked out of his mind to see the door open? Bosco thought to himself in a drunken laugh.
The person, gender unknown to the tipsy cop, paused at the entrance, surveying the bar, looking for someone.
She ain't here, man, Bosco thought to himself, no one's ever here.
~ Your presence still lingers here
and it won't leave me alone~
He toyed with his glass, sloshing what little liquid was left against the sides before tossing it down with ease, swallowing the harsh liquid with a satisfied grimace, then looking up to the doorway again. The person was gone this time.
Bosco soon found out where the figure had gone as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Hey! Mike-ey!" he grabbed his hand from off his shoulder and threw it down in utter disgust. He suddenly became lucid enough to make out his brothers face. He gave him a deathly stare and then nodded to the vacant seat beside him.
"Look, I can't stay," Mikey spoke in a jittery fashion before looking over his shoulders, "they're after me. . . your people, you gotta stop them, Mo."
"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Bosco said, still slurring, but his voice turning cold.
"Look," Mikey said, looking over his shoulders again, "I can't really say much."
Bosco glared at his brother, his glazed eyes searching his brother's face, "You usin', Mikey?"
"No, no!" Mikey said, shaking his head, "I'm clean, Mo. I swear. That's kinda what I need to talk to you about."
Bosco gave his brother another look over. His smaller hands were shaking and he tried to compensate for it by fidgeting around. Sweat collected on his forehead and his teeth chattered involuntarily. Tell tale signs of drug use in Bosco's book.
"Don't lie to me Michael!" He absconded his younger brother.
~ These wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase~
Mikey fidgeted even more; seemingly unable to keep any part of his body still for more than a fraction of a second. He wiped nervously at his forehead, then shook his head again, "No, Mo, really, come on, man, I'm your brother. You gotta trust me. I'm clean!"
Bosco shook his head and spun slightly in his chair to face Mikey, "Like hell you are," he sais smoothly under his breath, "then whose after you? Huh?"
Mikey tried to look at him but his gaze shot straight through him, "You gotta help me. Please, you know her," he lowered his tone, "I don't think she came back right, you know? A little off her rocker?"
It suddenly dawned on him as sirens broke the silent night air, he was talking about his partner.
Mikey's expression turned into one of panic as the siren's drew closer, closer, until it was obvious they were right outside the bar.
~ When you'd cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
and I've held your hand through all of these years~
Patrons looked up, wondering what was going on, some ducking out the back way to avoid confrontation that might possibly be meant for them.
Bosco knew his brother would want to do the same, and stood up, blocking his way. "This for you?"
Mikey opened his mouth to reply, but just then the door slammed open, the bell jingling mercilessly, and heads turned.
"Police, nobody move!" Faith Yokas shouted.
~ But you still have all of me~
Bosco's eyes shifted between his brother to Faith. Two totally different parts of his life; parts that he'd struggled to keep separate now fell together.
"What you getting him on?" Bosco paced sideways closer to Faith and put his hand up to signal the lowering of her gun. Sasha looked on at the scene feeling somewhat like an intruder.
"What am I not?" Faith snapped, looking past Bosco. "B&E, pushing, using..."
Bosco looked at his brother, searching him with hard eyes. He wanted desperately to believe his brother, yet nothing in the past gave him a reason to.
Helplessly, he stood there, feeling a drunken fool. It was between his partner, the woman he had trusted with his life more times than he could count. The woman he'd almost gotten killed...
Then there was his brother. He'd taken countless beatings to protect him, some so bad he thought they'd surely be his last. He would do anything to shelter his brother...
So the question it boiled down to was: is blood really thicker than water?
~ You used to captivate me
by your resonating light
but now I'm bound by the life you left behind~
You could cut the tension with a knife, you could judge time by the beating of ones heart. Bosco moved closer to Mikey, still blocking his path and turned his nose up at a bulge in his jacket pocket.
His hand dove into the pocket and retrieved a plastic bag. This bag held at least a dozen smaller envelopes of white powder, "This you stash, or just another customers order?" He asked, all but shoving the bag in Mikey's face, "I thought you claimed to be clean, huh Mikey?"
Mikey shook his head fervently, "No, I'm just...holding it for a guy I know. I'm not using, and I'm not selling!"
"Possession is still illegal," Sasha butted in for the first time.
Bosco sent her a glare, then turned back to his brother, eyes narrowing. "What the hell, Mikey?"
His brother took a step back, not trying to run, just to get away from his brother's anger.
Faith stood there, still holding her gun, but pointing it at the floor. Her expression was asking Bosco 'what do you want me to do?'
By this time Mikey had backed himself into a slightly more narrow hallway in the bar. This hall housed the restrooms, which smelt even more like a Methadone Lab then the bar smelt like a brewery.
A man staggered out of the restroom, instantly spotting Mikey, and a man he had not yet identified. Thought the police went unnoticed.
They dark man spoke, "You got it, right?" His voice was fluid and even, obvious to Bosco that his hits hadn't come few and far between; he showed little signs of withdrawal while Mikey was nearly in full-blown convulsions.
Mikey stumbled back a step, eyes wide. The man followed, staggering closer, reaching out a hand. "You got it!?"
And there, in the light, the man was identified.
"Dad."
~ Your face it haunts my once pleasant dreams
your voice it chased away all the sanity in me~
Bosco spat the word, more a curse than a statement. Faith's eyes traveled from one Boscorelli to the next, unsure, gun coming up to her hips.
"What the-?" Anthony Boscorelli said, suddenly realizing they were not alone.
It only took an instant, but it seemed more like a lifetime. One second they were staring, confused. And in the next, the light flashing off the barrel of a gun seemed to blind them.
~ These wounds won't seem to heal
this pain is just too real
there's just too much that time cannot erase~
"Crap, Dad, what the fuck you doin' with that!?" Mikey sputtered seeing Bosco freeze in his shoes. It seemed everyone was glued to the floor for an instant before Bosco made a move.
He shot his head at his father, disgusted by the figure of the man who stood before him. His hand slowly found its way down to his side and in one foul swoop, he bent his knee, pulled his ankle up to view and drew his off duty gun from it.
"Don't either of you dare move," he eyes didn't move, yet he spoke volumes with them.
"Bos, what the hell are you doing?" Faith moved closer to her real partner and pulled her gun straight out, just as Bosco held his.
"What I should've done along time ago," Bosco seethed. "Dad, drop the gun or I swear to god I'll kill you."
"Think you have the guts?" his Dad asked coldly, his eyes trained directly on his son's. "Think you could really do it, Maurice?"
Bosco wanted to shiver, but fought the chill, not willing to show any weakness.
"I won't let you hurt me again," Bosco said, "There are too many people I care about it this room."
~When you'd cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
and I've held your hand through all of these years~
For a moment all that could be heard was the flow of stale breath; but that was instantly shattered when a single bullet was discharged from an unknown gun, landing itself in a harmless bottle of whiskey. All three of the men sprung to attention and came to realize it came from the eldest.
Bosco's free hand immediately reached to knock the gun from his. A war of hands and feet began ending with them on the floor. Bosco held his fathers gunned hand out above their head, while his fathers other hand was wrapped around his older sons neck, "We always end up like this huh?" He forced out.
Bosco's chest heaved; his arms trembled with the effort of holding off his father's attack.
"That's what I'd like to know," he said in a strangled voice.
Anthony grinned insanely and tightened his grip on his son's throat. He cackled softly as Bosco's face grew red. "You wanna know why?"
Bosco nodded his head feebly, craning his neck to see Faith behind him, making all attempt to pulls his father off of him and resolve the problem with out it getting any uglier. His head was the thrown to the right by his fathers menacing grip; his cloudy eyes made out his brothers shaking form.
"Because you're just as rotten as I am, you just hide it under all the blue," he suddenly broke free as Bosco's weakened body caved in on top of the larger man. Bosco's gun flew free of grasp, giving Anthony ample opportunity of which he seized.
"I don't see it here to protect you now," he poked the barrel of the gun into his sons flesh and nodded in Faiths direction. More bullets flew in a fierce battle of good and evil, the outcome blurred for those who took part.
For the second time that night, time stretched. Bosco felt his father's grip slacken, and he quickly collapsed, rolling at the last second, landing hard on his back, next to his father.
Time resumed and Bosco's world began to fade in and out. Faith's pallid face loomed above his shadowed eyes, seemingly circling between expressions of grief and panic.
"Faith, I shot him," he stuttered on the words before he began to choke on them, "damn it hurts…"
"I know." She smoothly held her cold hand to his face and took a calming breath.
~ But you still have all of me~
"I know." She smoothly held her cold hand to his face and took a calming breath.
~ But you still have all of me~
"How is he?" Bosco asked in a raspy voice.
"He's..." Faith spared a look at the older Boscorelli. "Alive."
"Damn," Bosco said, attempting a laugh.
Faith winced as he stiffened, a hand going to his side, where blood poured, soaking his shirt, staining his hands red.
Bosco stared at that hand, knowing that some of the blood was his father's. His entire body ached with that knowledge, and the pain of his wound.
"Faith...is it okay that I'm scared?"
~When you'd cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
when you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears
and I've held your hand through all of these years
but you still have all of me
me, me~
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Okay...so, Spooky, me, is gonna be gone until Friday. So, no updates until then! :( I know, I know, you're heartbroken, right?
Yeah...anyway, no killing my fellow author!!!