Just wrote this drabble in the back of class. It's not much but I was thinking about how much Bo has grown on Tate already in the three episodes so far and this sort of happened. It's not necessarily a death fic so don't panic if you're not into that. Enjoy.

-Believe-Believe-Believe-

Tate didn't think it would be like this but damn if that little girl had gotten under his skin. Up until a week ago, he'd slowly grown accustomed to the idea of death by the state. Although this was technically such, it wasn't at the end of death row, and he never imagined there being something he'd rather live for.

But he could see her now through his heavy-lidded vision. She was gearing up to do one of those weird things she did where she got all mad and squeezed her eyes shut. He tried to tell her to stop – this wasn't one crazy bitch she could stop with a flurry of pigeons – but as he opened his mouth, nothing but a dribble of blood came out. He saw Bo's eyes in their continued horror and gut-wrenching fear so he tried to placate her worries to the same grotesque avail. He was gasping on the ground, his ceaseless blood flow a stain on the gritty concrete.

She was tucked away and safe at least. As long as she didn't do anything, no one could see her unless they were to join him at floor level. The group of officers were busy ignoring him, scouring all the nooks of the warehouse for Bo. But, when one asshole re-entered the room, she refused to shrink back. The dumb kid was too protective for someone who should be bawling her eyes out in the corner.

As he was forcibly picked up by the collar of his shirt, and the douchebag held a gun to him and screamed orders he couldn't comprehend, he felt more hopeful about leaving Bo to fend for herself in the future; she'd somehow got the message and stayed quiet. The man kept shouting at him, shaking him, demanding he tell where the little girl was but it was warbled under the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

The world came into vivid Technicolor for a brief moment as he was slammed down and kicked for not complying. All he could do was smirk at them, showing blood-stained teeth which earned him another kick. Not even sparks flashed across his eyes this time; Tate felt the numbness and cold at his fingertips. He tried to roll over, subconsciously putting his back to Bo, to hide all his pain from her. The grey surged back into his vision as he stared at the floor stretching out in front of him. He spluttered, more than little specks of blood spattering the floor.

"She's gone," he lied. The words were punctuated with another smirk and a great struggle for breath. Another cop had joined, standing in the doorway, and the first leant in close.

"What did you say, asshole?"

"I said… she's long gone." The snark in his voice was lost in the strained gasps he took. But they seemed to buy it and spoke orders to check outside and the surrounding perimeter. Tate looked up at the feet walking away and considered his chances taking on the guy left behind; he didn't want to leave Bo… but breathing was getting harder and he shivered on the ground. He fought to keep his eyes open but his hands slipped from his wounds as the world went dark.