"Gun Hill Road"
Author: carmen_085
Disclaimer: I don't own any Third Watch characters. All original characters in this belong to me
Summary: In the years following 9/11 Bosco and Liz struggle with health issues and emotional trauma. But when Fred dies suddenly, Faith's children have no where to go. Can Bosco and Liz keep their own demons at bay and give Emily and Charlie a good life? (Sequel to "Last Exit to Brooklyn")
Chapter Five
The offices were filling with smoke; thick, black smoke. The unmistakeable odor of jet fuel burning hotter and hotter. He got down on the floor; just like he told his young son. Smoke rises, you'll be safe down there until help comes. But help wasn't coming. At least not fast enough. There were some napkins on his desk, leftover from his breakfast. He had been running late; McDonald's Bacon, Egg, and Cheese Biscuit with a large iced coffee. Man, whoever had invented iced coffee was a fucking genius. The cup was still on his desk, ice melted, water now stagnant and hot. Wetting the napkins he put them over his nose and mouth, wetting his orange shirt he pulled that up too.
Scooting down closer to the floor he pressed the receiver of the phone against his face. He was getting his new khakis dirty; he and his wife had just bought them at Sears this weekend. She continually asking him to verify his waist measurements; he following dully behind her an Auntie Annie's Pretzel in one hand and a shopping bag in the other. Scottie sitting on the carpeted floor whining about how much longer it was going to be. The pants had been on sale and now he was ruining them.
'911…location of your emergency' His throat tightened against the sourness of the smoke.
'101st floor, North Tower, World Trade Center.' Sweat rolled down his face.
'We have multiple fire units on scene, Sir. They are on their way up to you.' On their way up ? How ? All the elevators were gone, the stairwells had collapsed. He knew that for a fact, he had checked them all.
'Lady you're not understanding me….we have no air up here….' The paint began to bubble on the walls. The floor was hot; he felt like a caged animal.
'Sir how many people are there with you.' How many people ?….He wanted to say everyone, fucking everyone was still here because there was no way out. They were trapped.
'There's a lot of us, Lady. We're young men here, we have families, we don't want to die.' Coming to the balls of his feet his eyes roved the smoke filled space. He felt dizzy; next to him a coworker collapsed to the floor. Movement in the darkened room, someone was at the window. Hacking, chopping, tinging of metal on glass. A gust of cool air and a rustling of papers. One window broken and then another and another. Figures in the darkness moving toward the cool bright light.
'Sir if you can hear me try to move to fresh air.' Move to fresh air….a broken window. Why didn't he think of it? Letting the receiver drift away from his face he stood hunched over to avoid the worst of the smoke. The light calling to him like a beacon of relief. Others had already jammed themselves into the thin slats hanging out over nothing but air. A woman stood in front of him, she was a secretary for one of the senior brokers. He blinked, this morning he had seen her looking at baby clothes online. Eyes wandering down to her stomach he saw the slightest bump there that he wouldn't have otherwise noticed. She was in the the window, both hands on the framing and as she leaned out, her long brown hair blew in the wind. He fought the urge to pull her back, she could fall. Sweat rolled down his face and in his eyes, he paused to wipe them. When he looked back up she was floating….just for a breath…floating horizontally right outside the window and then she was gone sucked downward with wretched force. He gasped as he ran to the opening. The last he saw of her was her blue dress fluttering away.
He stood there staring downward into nothing. The screaming and crying from inside the office was beginning to lessen. His feet were painful, burning and he realized the thin soled material of his dress shoes had begun to melt. Heat….heat…so much heat. The skin around this ankles begun to blister, his lips cracked and bled; he was burning alive….they were all burning alive. Standing in the window he put both hands on the frame and leaned out. It was cool, calm, the sky looked like the ocean. Help wasn't coming, he knew that….knew it in the fiber of his being that these were his last moments on earth. Looking back once more he now saw a woman laying at his feet. Her arms and legs were blistered, slowly burning against the heat of the floor and yet she couldn't move. Her body wretched in agony but she was too weak to lift herself up.
He had a choice. It was a shit choice but it was the last one he had left. Wait to die in agony or jump. He'd worked here for ten years and never, not even in '93, did he ever think it would come to this. Stood at this window many times but never looked down, never wondered what it would be like to jump. Never thought something could happen that would make him WANT to jump. But here he stood over a thousand feet in the air trying to decide the better way to die.
It would be over in a few seconds. Would he even feel it when he hit the ground ? It would be like flying, ten seconds of floating and then nothing…blackness…peace. The woman at his feet began to convulse, her eyes rolled back in her head, foam coming from her mouth, her body burned and blistered. He looked at her like he was in a nightmare; this couldn't be real. Blinking he looked back out at the clear blue. His family….Laura and Scottie…would they be ok ? What would they think when they found out he jumped ? Would they ever find out? The office was quiet as he heard the fire churning below, eating its way through the building floor by floor. The only people left living were the ones hanging out the windows around him. Everyone else had been overcome by smoke or heat. He felt dizzy as the skin on the back of his neck began to blister and open. This was it; he had run out of time.
Eyes staring back out at the endless blue sky he imagined the ocean, cool and refreshing. Closing his eyes he said a silent prayer for his wife and son; that they would one day understand what he was about to do. Opening his eyes he looked up as he leaned out.
'Oh God….please forgive me.' Two steps and he was falling, through cool, clear air. The relief was intoxicated and at first he just looked up staring at nothing but the sky but then he began to flip end over end. The ground….the tower….the sky. His mind was blank…there were no more thoughts.
Bosco stood as he always did, glued to the street staring upward…unable or unwilling to move. The blur of orange and khaki falling faster and faster. He heard that scream….that primal, guttural scream. He got closer and closer and it was only then that Bosco could clearly see his face. Closer and closer until….
Bosco jerked awake in bed gasping for air. Sitting straight up he inhaled sharply as his chest burned and begged for relief. He looked around the room; his bedroom that he shared with Liz. He was at home; he was safe. Light filtered through the curtains as he glanced at the clock. Two pm; he hadn't intended on sleeping so long. Pulling on a pair of sweat pants he heard the TV softly playing in the other room. Bosco exhaled as he opened the bedroom door, his eyes immediately landed on Emily and Charlie both asleep on the couch. A movie flicked across the TV as Atlas stretched out between them snoring contentedly. The tension in his chest loosened just a bit as he looked to the backyard.
When they bought the house in Pelham they just wanted some space of their own. Not much, just a house that would become a home. Having a yard, though, however small and insignificant it was had made a world of difference in their lives. In New York no one can be outdoors unless you are in public but this…this little piece of ground was theirs. The view of the East River had been a bonus.
She liked the way the dirt felt in her hands, she always had. Before her life in New York, Liz had grown up in a house in the country. After everything she had been through, after her life had changed over and over; she still never forgot how her hands felt in the dirt. It was grounding, calming; it made everything else feel irrelevant. It reminded her of how insignificant they all were, just a speck of dirt…a speck of dust….
The ground began to shake under her feet. Her heart pounded in her chest and time slowed down. Tiny pieces of debris rained down like sharp little snow flakes. The air all around her sucked away toward the building like the ocean before a tidal wave. She looked up already knowing the awful truth. The antenna on top of the building sunk from the sky as the floors collapsed downward. Bam ba Bam...Bam ba Bam...Bam ba Bam.
Blinking she felt a tremor run down her spine as she let out a shaky breath. The back door slammed shut as she looked up. Callie ran across the yard seeing Bosco appear on the porch. Dropping the trowel she rested her forearms on her knees as she took in his slumped form collapsing into a chair. It had been a long night; he and Emily had only just gotten home a few hours ago. She didn't ask too many questions, she knew both Emily and Charlie were in shock…traumatized by their new found reality. Bosco did the best that he could. He was no genius when it came to navigating his emotions, he'd never had someone to show him how. Instead of acting out of experience or logic he often followed his instincts, however unorthodox they may seem. Liz had learned that about her husband early on, and when she asked him once he had simply replied.
'When it came to feelings the only thing I could ever trust was my gut' . He laughed then, that wry, humorless Bosco laugh. 'When it came to a lot of things actually…'
She had never heard someone apprise themself so honestly or accurately. He was right, Bosco acted on instinct and most of the time it didn't lead him astray. It made him a good cop…no, a great cop. Callie ran off the porch as she came to stand in front of him. He looked straight ahead, past her to the East River his eyes vacant. Wiping her hands on the front of her pants she sat down in his lap, Bosco's arms instantly coming to wrap around her. His eyes drift closed as he took a deep breath, his heart still racing.
Liz opened her mouth to say something before taking in the pained expression on his face. He'd had a nightmare; she could just tell. Gently she ran her hand through his sweaty hair, pushing it away from his forehead and smoothing it at the nape of his neck. She let her fingers linger there, rubbing the tension away. Bosco leaned into her, she could never know how much even these little things meant to him. Just the feeling of her fingers in his wet hair. Maybe another man wouldn't have noticed such a small thing or would have taken it for granted. But after a lifetime of being deprived of small affections; he would never stop appreciating it.
Placing her lips to his temple she tasted salt as she let herself linger for a moment. Bosco exhaled a ragged breath into her chest. A lump of emotion came to settle in the back of his throat. He didn't want to do this, not right now anyway. After 9/11 he tried to keep what he saw on that day from her. He tried to bury it someplace that he could forget about it, but something like that, though, it could never be forgotten. The more he resisted it, the more it chased him until he finally broke down and told her about the man in orange and khaki falling from the sky. End over end tumbling through the air. That scream ringing in his ears as he jerked involuntarily.
In his lap he felt Liz jump at his sudden movement. Hesitantly he met her eyes. He knew he had no reason for it but Bosco still couldn't help but to feel ashamed in these moments. He felt so weak; everyone saw shit that day, why couldn't he just get over it already? They stared at each other for a few moments quietly; Bosco both hoping that she wouldn't look away and that she would stop seeing him like this. She had…HAD….cancer for fuck's sake; he was supposed to be the strong one. But like always the only thing he saw in her eyes was love and concern, and like always he felt the well of emotion begin to overflow. Looking away from her he turned so that she couldn't see his face. A single tear rolling down his cheek he was quick to wipe it away, when he spoke his voice was rough and strained.
"What if I can't do it? What if I can't be there for them because I'm just so screwed up?" He inhaled sharply shaking his head as he looked down.
Liz was silent for a moment before she gently took his chin and turned it toward her. "Then I'll be there for them until you get unscrewed…." A small smile spread across her face as Bosco let out a laugh.
Shaking his head the smile faded, "You were sick though, what if something else happens and you can't be there either…"
Liz shook her head. "Then Sully or Davis or Betty will be there…" Bosco met her stare for a moment. "It's ok to ask for help, Bosco. That's how family works." He had never had a family, well not a good one anyway. The notion that someone would come in willingly and shoulder that kind of burden for you was honestly somewhat unbelievable to him. The fact that they would do it just because they cared for you….well that would definitely take some convincing. Meeting her eyes he attempted to release the knot of tension in his stomach. He trusted her with his life, with their lives, with everything he ever had…God did he trust her.
Shaking his head he bit his lip nervously, "I just can't screw this up…"
Emily leaned against the door her hair falling in her eyes. She woke up a few minutes ago and heard voices on the back porch. It wasn't her business to listen to them but she couldn't help herself. Her daddy had yelled at her more than once for eavesdropping.
"What if I can't do it? What if I can't be there for them because I'm just so screwed up?"
She felt her stomach summersault. Was something wrong with Bosco? Was he sick? She knew Liz had cancer but she didn't know anything about Bosco…. Leaning into the screen she watched as her mother's partner, he would always be that to her…to them, fought back tears. Liz said something to make him laugh for a second as they just stared into each other's eyes, and for a moment Emily forgot about everything. They were so in love with each other it almost took her by surprise. She knew…absolutely KNEW…that Bosco adored her, that she was his reason to live on 9/11 and everyday after that. And she knew that Liz never looked at another man after she met him, she risked her life on 9/11 to find him, almost losing it in the process. She knew they were inseparable at work and pretty much everywhere else. Emily had been to their wedding, had seen Bosco look like he had never looked before. Hopeful, happy, content; they barely made it through their vows without them and the whole congregation dissolving into tears. Even her daddy had cracked a smile that day; genuinely happy that Bosco had finally found someone.
Bosco and Liz were always so cute together and she had secretly thought that what they had were 'relationship goals' but she hadn't realized….not until this moment at least….how deeply they were connected to one another. She'd never seen anything like it, definitely not from her parents. Her eyes stared at them dreamily; the love they had for one another so expansive it wrapped its warm embrace around her too.
Liz felt Bosco begin to unwind slowly. She knew she had this effect on him; being able to calm him down just by being near him. It was a powerful thing to have over another person and she was careful to never misuse it. They were oblivious to being watched, so wrapped up in each other and the moment nothing else mattered. Bosco's hair had begun to dry in the cool late spring breeze as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through the back of it.
"What was it about?" He didn't need to tell her. She just wanted to open the door for him in case he did. That was usually the hardest part- starting, finding the words to describe something he didn't understand.
Bosco was quiet for a moment. "It was him…like always." He stopped talking and she didn't pry. If that was all he said she would take it. "Falling, end over end spinning through the sky and then just before it's over I always wake up." Liz knew that dream well. Bosco had been having it or a version of it since the eleventh, orange and khaki falling through the clear blue sky. "This time though…it was different. It was…." He paused not sure if this would make him seem crazier than he already was. "I saw his face this time….I didn't even seen his face on that day…" He trailed off wondering what it all meant.
Emily quietly backed away from the door not sure that she wanted to hear anymore. She knew that Bosco had seen things on 9/11, anyone who was down there had seen things they wished they could forget. What exactly he saw she wasn't sure, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know. Her daddy was right, on 9/11 he told them not to worry about Bosco because he was the toughest son of a bitch they knew. A smirk crossed her lips as she remembered the look on her daddy's face when Grandma Shirley came to visit a few days later. Charlie proudly told her that Uncle Bosco had survived because he was 'one tough son of a bitch'. She wasn't amused although Emily thought it was pretty funny.
Bosco had always worn his heart on his sleeve but she never thought him weak for it. He had survived a shitty childhood, a deployment to the middle east, he'd been shot, stabbed, and beaten unconscious, had been in the car crash that killed her mom, and had gotten beat to shit by her dad afterwards, he'd been to Rykers, and had survived a terrorist attack by one block and two minutes. Emily was beginning to think that nothing could undo him. Because not only did he survive, he was LIVING….he was happy….he had found a way to take a shattered life and put it back together. Her stomach knotted at the thought of something out there that COULD undo him. Something he had seen so terrible that it would be the one thing that made him fall completely apart. Part of her wanted to know what it was, to know the facts was to deal with the problem head on. That was Faith in her; always needing to know so that she could fix it. But part of her also didn't want to know….was scared to know. That was the kid in her; still needing to believe, especially now, that Bosco was invincible.
She was careful not to wake Charlie as she slid back onto the couch. Casting a momentary glance at the door she turned her attention back to the TV. Exhaling she felt the anxiety build inside her; if something happened to Bosco what did they have. Where would they have to go?
"Emily….what's wrong…" Charlie pushed himself up on the couch wiping his eyes staring at her face, which she knew at that moment must have betrayed her emotions. Immediately forcing a smile she pointed to the TV.
"I just have a headache. Looks, it's the best part." Charlie's attention was easily redirected as he stared at the screen instead of her. Exhaling, she relaxed her expression forcing whatever she felt down below the surface. Her job was to take care of her brother and to make sure he didn't worry about anything. No matter what, she needed to put on a brave face so that he didn't get scared; her daddy told her that was her job and she was going to do it.
Liz cast a glance at the back door seeing nothing as she heard the TV playing inside. Turning back to Bosco she hesitated for a moment before she spoke. "Are you still going tomorrow?"
He paused, looking around nothing in particular before responding slowly. "Yes…unless you need me here."
She was quick to shake her head. "No. I'll be fine. You go, it's important you don't miss any appearances. You know how people like him….they can't ever get an inch."
Sighing, Bosco hugged her tight against him as he stared out at the river.
He kept the walls inside his cell meticulously organized. He would be here for the foreseeable future, no sense in not making it home. Standing with his face pressed against the thick glass window he could barely see the river. A one by one view of the parking lot, the dumpsters, and a slide of the Hudson. It was his world outside of the cell walls. His cold blue eyes reflected the clouds in the sky; they were emotionless, vacant.
The cell door slid open behind him with a click. A smile spread across his face but there was no happiness or humor.
"Jackson…let's go." The guard stood waiting with a pair of cuffs. The newspapers clippings fluttered on the wall as he walked past. He had memorized each and every article on the wall. Knew them all by heart and could recite every last word.
'NYPD Hero Saves Elderly Brooklyn woman from the Towers.'
'Notice of Marriage: Maurice Boscorelli and Elizabeth Jensen; June 23, 2002'
'55th Precinct K-9 Named in Memory of Fallen 9/11 Lieutenant'
And his favorite of them all. 'Crooked 55th Precinct Cop gets Life for killing Fellow Officer, Leaving her Partner for Dead in the Towers.' They could have upped the ante on that one. Technically he didn't just leave Bosco for dead, he put a bullet in him and then left him for dead; big difference. The guard hooked the shackles together as he stepped out of the cell. When he fist got to Sing Sing everyone wanted a piece of the cop. But then when they found out he had succeeded in killing another cop, and tried to off her partner in the middle of 9/11 he became some kind of hero. A local celebrity on C-Block. The guards still didn't want to take the risk of letting him out with everyone else; no one wanted to deal with a potential riot should one person take offense to his former status. He got out of the cell for three hours a day which he mostly spent in the library searching news articles or filling out forms for another useless appeal. He would appeal forever though; a stack of forms and the ink were worth making Bosco drag himself up here for the preliminary hearing. They were worth making him tell the story again and again. Making him relive the day his partner died and the day the world almost came to an end. Making him see Faith twisted into a bloody pretzel and that all those people falling from the sky. To see him writhe and squirm, to hold back the tears Jackson knew came on the drive home, to make him say those words out loud. It was worth it a hundred times over and as long as he kept coming, kept making sure that there wasn't a soul left on the appeals board that didn't know what a monster Brian Jackson was; he would keep filing appeals. At this point it was the only thing he could to keep hurting the man who put him away….the man who survived a speeding truck, a bullet, and a hundred and ten stories of concrete and steel.
The door opened to the conference room and Jackson shuffled in. A long table against the wall covered with random stacks of paper and five uninterested looking suits. A chair for him behind a short table opposite the panel , and finally Bosco sitting in the back. A smile spread across Jackson's face as he laid eyes on him. Bosco's eye were downcast and in his hand was a file- the same one he brought every time he came. Jackson took note of the slouch in his posture, the lines on his face, and the unshaven stubble. He looked exhausted; a flicker of happiness made a warmth bloom across Jackson's chest. At least the self-righteous little prick was suffering.
"This is a hearing to determine if the appeals process should proceed for Inmate #4672489 Brian Jackson."
"Officer Brian Jackson, your honor." He was quickly to add with a smirk.
Bosco snorted, "Hardly." The lawyer cast a glance at Bosco before looking back to Jackson pursing his lips.
"Your status as Police Officer was stripped from you, Mr. Jackson. We've been over this before."
Jackson mustered a semi-apologetic glance before nodding solemnly. "I know , Sir. And I one day hope to regain that status again. Wearing the badge meant the world to me."
Bosco rolled his eyes as he looked between Jackson and the appeals board. "Oh come on, stop wasting everyone's time."
The lawyer at the center of the table clicked his pen absent mindedly against the table. Jackson smirked; nothing made him happier than getting under Bosco's skin. He made it so easy too. Bosco made a conscious effort to not look at Jackson. He knew he should just ignore him, take the high road and pretend the man wasn't even in the room. But he couldn't…he just couldn't. Not even on a good day could he ignore the taunts and the remarks; today wasn't a good day. He was exhausted mentally and physically; he couldn't close his eyes without seeing something….and in his screwed up life there was a lot to chose from.
"The purpose of this hearing is to determine if Mr. Jackson qualifies to send his appeal to a preliminary hearing." The lawyer gestured toward Bosco, "Now…Officer Boscorelli, you are here to contest Mr. Jackson's appeal. You feel he is still a danger?"
"Yes." Bosco tried not to sound annoyed. Jackson had not a leg to stand on and yet the state of New York continued to allow him to file appeals. Continued to allow him to interrupt Bosco's life and waste his time. Continued to allow this bullshit charade to carry on.
"Could you please elaborate for the panel….why it is you feel Mr. Jackson would pose a danger to the public. Why he cannot continue in the appeals process."
Bosco ran his tongue back and forth over his teeth. He wanted to tell this lawyer, "the panel" and that bastard sitting across the room that they could take the "appeals process", the judicial system, and what all these pricks considered fair and blow it out their ass. Was Brian Jackson a danger to the public…without a badge, no not really. But it was more than that. He needed to pay for what he had done. A life for a life. Faith might no have believed in it but he sure as hell did.
"Mr. Jackson killed my partner, Sir. He tried to kill me more than once. On the darkest day in this city's history the only person he helped was himself. People were scared that day…and they were hurt and they needed….."
"Do you still see him, Bosco? The man…" Bosco stopped talking for a moment. "You know what man I mean…the one wearing orange and khaki." As soon as the words left Jackson's lips he felt a tickle down below. He knew Bosco remembered, knew it was something he couldn't forget. In the days after 9/11, Jackson had overhead a conversation between Bosco and his "new partner", that cocky hot shot bitch from Brooklyn. At the time he thought her a fine piece of ass, when he found out she married Bosco he became indifferent. If she wanted someone as weak and as pathetic as Bosco, she must be no better than him. He didn't hear much but just enough.
'I'm not talking to a counselor, I saw the same shit as you…the same shit as everyone else. Besides what can a counselor….what can anyone….say to make seeing a human being splatter on the pavement seem ok…seem like something you can live with?'
'I know but you have to deal with this somehow'
'I'll deal with it. I'll be fine.'
The minute he heard that he knew exactly what Bosco was talking about. How could he not? He had been there, he was the only one there besides Bosco. He thought about it once or twice, seeing a human body turn into a pile of something that can't be recognized. But he didn't feel anything. He didn't care to. That guy made his choice; he was going to die anyway so what did it matter ?
But Bosco wasn't him. Bosco felt everything in vivid color, he internalized the suffering of other people. He wanted to help everyone, and when he couldn't it was a personal failure. What a waste; caring about people who didn't care about you. Nonetheless he was glad that Bosco was like that because it gave him a button, a sore spot to endlessly poke and prod.
Bosco swallowed hard as pride welled up in Jackson's throat.
That scream….and then the sound of a body hitting the pavement at 120 mph. And him… completely helpless to stop any of it.
Bosco jerked involuntarily his chest heaving for air. Fuck Jackson for saying that, but more importantly, fuck him for giving that prick the sort of ammo to make him unravel like this. Just a few words, the right words, and here he was about to lose it. Setting his jaw Bosco put it all aside for a moment as the panel watching him expectantly.
"On 9/11 that piece of shit was sitting in the car with me. I can't ever call him a partner because he killed mine. The man he's talking about jumped from the North Tower shortly after we arrived. Mr. Jackson was hiding against a building when he hit the pavement in front of me."
Screaming, low guttural screaming. Flesh hitting asphalt.
Bosco shook his head squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "And after seeing something like that; after seeing that kind of suffering he still only had one thing on his mind, finding a way to kill me. To make sure I died and took everything I knew about how he killed Officer Faith Yokas with me. To get rid of me and make it look like an accident. To leave me in that building to die with everyone else."
The lawyer wrote something down. "Yes, Officer Boscorelli no one here is contesting that Mr. Jackson is a deprave and morally reprehensible human being but we need to know why you feel he would pose a danger to the public moving forward. That is how the appeals process ends at this stage. The morality of his crimes would come later but of course there would be additional hearings and…."
"I don't given shit about the public." The lawyer looked at Bosco open mouthed. "I don't. That bastard killed another cop on broad daylight. He orchestrated the death of someone who was a mother and wife and most importantly my best friend. He needs to pay for what he has done."
The lawyer sighed writing something down before nodding. "Appeal is denied but I have to warn you, Officer without evidence that he poses a danger to the public this process may continue on in the future." Bosco wanted to take the lawyer…the lawyers…and smash all their faces off the table. Jackson had no rights, he had no say, he was meant to rot in hell. Standing Bosco didn't need to spend another minute with this piece of trash and his gloating smile. Passing him on the way to the door Bosco looked no where but ahead.
"OH Bosco…Bosco." He stopped for a just a moment. Turning, he stared daggers into Jackson's cold, blue eyes. "I do hope those nightmares get better for you…" Bosco stilled taking in the shit eating smile. Leaning in close to Jackson he ground the words out low and deadly.
"You better hope you never win one of your bullshit appeals. Because if I ever see you out there again I'll kill you myself."
Jackson smiled as he laughed shaking his head. "Tell Liz I said Hi."
"Kiss my ass." The door slammed as the room filled with silence and Bosco's hurried steps down the hallway. He was running…running away. Turning back to the panel Jackson's smile only widened.
"When can I file my next appeal?"
Bosco let the door slam behind him as he stepped out onto the porch. The rise and fall of voices in the house soothed his nerves letting him know he wasn't alone even though part of him wanted just that. Betty, of course, knew about Fred and the kids now being with Bosco. Emily and Charlie had been to Betty's once before and the woman doted on them like they were her own. They hadn't eaten much since they had been at Bosco's house, maybe a peanut butter and jelly or two but both said they just weren't hungry. No one, though, could resist Betty's cooking no matter how hard they tried. Bosco felt an anxiety he didn't know he was harboring begin to fade when he watched Emily and Charlie dig into the steaming, flaky chicken pot pie. What kind of guardian was he if he couldn't even get them to eat. No one at the table noticed the look in his eyes except for Liz, of course. Gently she touched his hand before offering him a soft smile. They would get through this, she would always be there. Exhaling he also began to shovel the delicious food in his own mouth, not realizing how hungry he was too.
For her part Emily was holding it together well. She was quiet and she let Betty hug her lingering in the older woman's arms longer than normal. Betty was everyone's grandma, everyones mom ,everyone's auntie. And until the moment she was in the older woman's arms, Emily had't realized how much she wanted a grandma right now. A woman who had survived a lifetime of her own struggles and made it just the same. Someone who knew just what to say, just what to do, and just what to cook to make her feel better. Emily had grandmas, two in fact, but neither of them had every made her feel better about much of anything. Grandma Mona was crazy, unpredictable, and flighty. Grandma Shirley was critical, judging, and bossy. Betty was almost a stranger but somehow in that moment, when she ran her wrinkled fingers through Emily's hair hugging the young girl against her, she became more of a grandma than any of her blood relatives ever were.
Charlie made it through dinner entertained by the collections of characters at Betty's table, but then shortly after began to tear up whimpering that his daddy was gone forever. Liz was quick to swoop in, scooping the boy into her lap and sitting with him on the couch. Rod, Betty's son, sat next to them smiling at Charlie and ready with his own story of growing up without a father. Charlie's tears dried as he listed to the big, strong, proud man in front of him talk about how he wasn't much older when his own father passed.
Bosco was thankful for the emotional reprieve, drained himself from the interaction with Brian Jackson earlier in the day. Hearing the door creak open expected to see Liz but instead Betty appeared coming to sit on the old pink glider next to him.
"Everyone ok in there?"
Betty nodded quickly giving him a reassuring pat on the leg. "Oh yeah, baby everything's just fine. Rod's telling them about how he got on after Myron died." Bosco nodded staring out into Betty's small back yard. "It's a hell of a thing, what they've gone through." He couldn't argue that. "It's also a hell of a thing what you and Liz are doing for them. Not too many people out there who would take someone else's kids in…especially when they aren't family."
Bosco didn't think before he spoke. "Faith was family. Those kids are my responsibility now."
Betty nodded. "I know that. But still it's not an easy thing what you're doing…what you're both doing."
"I know and I have the best wife in the whole world. You don't need to tell me that." Betty laughed in agreement.
"How are you though ?" Bosco was quiet. Other than Liz, Betty was the only person who ever really cared how he was doing. What he needed. What they could do to help him.
There was no reasons to lie, Betty knew everything anyway. Exhaling Bosco covered his eyes for a moment trying to think of nothing for once. "I….I still see him, Betty. The man who jumped. I see him almost everyday." The older woman was quiet staring ahead thinking those words over.
"Well, that's not something you can forget."
"I know and maybe I'm not supposed to forget it. Maybe I'm the one person who is supposed to remember him. I mean it was a life….a person…he should be remembered."
Betty shook her head in disagreement. "Not like that, though….not like that." She hadn't seen the man in orange and khaki that day but she saw others. In those last desperate moments before the tower collapsed….
They were out….they made it. The sun hit her in the face and she felt awash with relief but it was short lived. The young cop pulled her toward the footbridge, toward cover. But why…why couldn't they just go right out across Vesey and up Broadway, it was right there…they could make it. She would call Rod to come pick her up and he could go back to doing his job, relieved of the burden she was placing on him.
He drug her along not paying attention to her protests or much else. Betty should have known, though, should have known that something was terribly wrong, that something even more awful was coming, and that they were running out of time. They ran, or at least they tried to, at any rate she was moving faster than she had in years. Something, was hitting the bridge above them, whistling and a slam…a crash…and then it happened again and again. It was just debris.
And then it wasn't. They were moving and it was so loud , so chaotic but she still heard it. A whistling through the air coming closer and closer. And it hit, the strangest sound she ever heard. She felt something wet splash up and hit her. Her white blouse was still soaked in sweat but it was now wet with something else. Blood, splattered across the front and down her left sleeve. She stopped, staring down at herself and then at the pavement out in the plaza. Bosco looked back at Betty and then to the ground. He knew what it was without even looking. Betty couldn't stop looking through, she couldn't understand that what she was seeing was just a person. Couldn't understand that people were jumping. She had seen a few people burned up high….they were burned real bad. But still….jumping? Bosco didn't wait as he grabbed her hand and they kept running north.
When she finally got home that night, at almost eleven pm, Betty was still wearing her blood soaked blouse and torn black dress pants. Her feet were blistered and bleeding, her knees ached beyond reproach. The hospital checked her, x-rayed her chest and her aching joints and told her she was one of the lucky ones and sent her home. Alone in her bedroom that night she carefully removed the clothing that would always be a gruesome reminder of that day. She folded them neatly and placed them in a box that still sat at the back of her closet. It was wrong to throw them out, her blouse was most likely the only evidence left of a life cut violently short.
Betty exhaled as she shook the memories away. "When it was just me…just Liz, it was alright I could deal with it. She understood what I was going through. We dealt with it together. But now I have them, and I have to be there for them. I can't let my shit get in the way. I can't let this get out of control."
Betty understood the collision between personal suffering and putting on a brave face for your kids. She understood that what they needed came before anything you might feel. She knew what it was like to choke back her own tears while a young boy asks why. She was quiet for a moment, "Have you ever thought about finding out who he was?"
"What?" Bosco turned to look at her.
"Put a name to that person, to that man in orange and khaki. Find out who he was, his family, that he was more than just the way he died." Betty nodded at him, "It might help you move past all this."
Bosco was quiet thinking over what it would mean put a name with a face that he only saw in his nightmares. Betty got up leaving him in deep in thought and reappeared only a few moment later with a big black book. Opening it she began flipping through news articles, photos, and personal mementos. Just like Betty was the unofficial mayor in her corner of Brooklyn, she was also the de facto mayor of Tower One. She knew so many people in that building, some just to see, others by name. There was Julian at the coffee cart who she greeted every morning with a smile, and Joshua who worked on the elevators and rescued her one morning when the damn thing got stuck between floors. There was Anna who she sometimes met for lunch down at the food court underneath the building and Raul who ran the mailroom and always slipped her an extra book of stamps without asking. Some of them made it and she had seem them since. Others she never knew their fate, couldn't remember their name to find out either. Stopping on a photo of the burning Tower One she smoothed it out with her hands. It seemed so much less threatening there on paper. Just a photo of a moment that had long passed.
Counting down from the top Betty stopped in the area of the charred, black hole. "This is where you said he was, right?"
Bosco nodded, he would always remember that. The cleanliness of his clothing against all that blackness. "Yeah…around there." He pointed to what he thought would have been the man's exact location. He should know, he had seen it over and over in his mind. Betty tapped the photo.
"That was Cantor Fitzgerald. Floor 101 to 105, the top brokerage…at the top of the world." She looked at Bosco. "Might be a good place to start."
Nodding he took the book from her looking at the photo. Burying this…pretending it didn't matter it wasn't going to work anymore. He had to do better. He promised Faith he would take care of them, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
TBC….
I'm sorry for the delay. I always say that. Over the last few months I have been dealing with personal issues that have frankly left me with no desire to write. No ideas, no direction. This story is especially hard because Third Watch has been off the air now for 16 years. And very few people care to keep up with the fandom. Eventually my brain started to bubble ideas and as usual I couldn't let them go until they were written. So I will continue this story and try my best to not go so long between updates. Thank you for understanding and I hope you enjoy this chapter.