Notes: Thanks again to everyone and their kind words.
He didn't remember going home. When he left the hospital, he had avoided any of the officers that might have been waiting for him. He didn't want to make a statement. What could he say? The reason one of
New York's finest is in the hospital is because her partner is a total screw-up and nothing will ever change?
When he got to his apartment door, he fished the keys out of his pocket, fumbled with the lock and pushed open the door. He stepped inside and threw his keys on the table next to the door.
He then turned and headed for the kitchen. He reached up to the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled two bottles of Jim Bean down. One was unopened, the other was about half full.
He put the full bottle under his arm and grabbed a glass from the counter as his turned and left
the kitchen.
Faith had forgiven him.
But, no matter what she said to him, Bosco knew she would never trust him again. How could she trust him when his own stupidity almost killed her? She hadn't trusted him once to tell him about her cancer. That had hurt. She thought that he wouldn't be able to handle it. She was probably right.
How would he be able to trust himself again?
Bosco set the bottles down on the coffee table and walked to the closet. He opened the door and stared at the gun case leaning against the wall. He hated Hobart for what he had done to himself and to him. Maybe Hobart should have shot him when he had the chance. That way he wouldn't have to worry about anyone else ever again.
He remembered one time he told Faith that he had no sympathy for people that ended it all. He thought that it took a weak person to take the easy way out. But, Hobart had been a tough guy. He had done things in his life that Bosco would probably never be able to do. If
Hobart hadn't been strong enough, what made him so sure that he stood a chance?
Bosco pulled the gun case from the closet and carried it back to the table and sat it down. He plopped down on the couch beside it. He grabbed the bottle in front of him, broke the seal, and poured some of the amber liquid into his glass. He studied the case for a second, then leaned back. His hands were shaking again.
Why had Glen giving the gun to him?
The pounding on the door startled him. Who in the hell could that be? He ignored it, willing whoever it was to go away and leave him alone. The only thing that happened was that the pounding got louder.
"Maurice, open the door!" His mother shouted at him through the door.
"Ma?" What was she doing there?
He set the glass down and lurched from the couch and unsteadily made his way to the door. He pulled the door open and stood there for a second, staring at his mother. She looked tired and upset.
"I thought you weren't speaking to me?" It came out a little harsher than he meant and she flinched at the words.
"You're drunk."
Bosco snorted. "So?"
He then turned his back on her and went back to the couch, and slumped back down on it.
"What are you doing here?"
"Your partner's husband called me a little while ago. He told me what happened. He thought someone should come over here and check on you."
Fred called her?
"Why did he call you?" he asked as he picked up the glass from the table to take another sip.
"He was worried about you."
Bosco almost choked on his drink as he laughed. "Fred was worried about me? You're kidding right?"
Bosco turned to look over the couch at her. She was still standing next to the door with a sad expression on her face.
"Can't somebody worry about you?" She paused then asked softly. "How are you, Maurice?"
Bosco shrugged his shoulders then turned; he didn't want to look at her.
He propped his feet up on the table in front of him and then his gaze fell on the gun next to his feet. She was trying to comfort him, trying to give him sympathy. That was the last thing in the world he wanted right now. He didn't want her sympathy; he didn't deserve it. Didn't she see that because of him Faith was in the hospital? She could have died, how did she think he was?
"Ma, I screwed up again, this time it wasn't just a simple mistake. I almost killed my best friend. I
...just leave me alone."
Bosco heard her mutter something and then she was suddenly standing in front of him. She reached down and grabbed the glass from his hand.
"I will not leave you alone. That's been my biggest mistake all along."
She looked down at the gun on the coffee table and closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were shining bright with unshed tears.
"Ever since you was little I left you alone. When your father left, I told you that you were the man of the house. So every time he came back, every time he came to your window at night, I said nothing to you. I let you stand up to him. For god sakes, you were still only a little boy and I let your protect me and your brother because I was too frightened to do it myself. I made you take on too much; I forced you to grow up too soon."
She was crying now.
"Please don't, it's okay" he whispered.
She shook her head violently then gestured at the gun on the table. "Maurice, I'm sorry that you had to go through such horrible things."
Bosco felt the tears threaten to come. He bent his head to look at the floor. "It's not your fault."
"And not everything that happens is your fault either. Maurice, the only thing that happened today was that you finally realized that you're human. Just like everyone else you make mistakes. Everyone is allowed to make mistakes, it takes a man to stand up and let yourself be forgiven for them."
She paused, then she bent down and gently took his chin. She raised it until they were looking each other in the eyes. "I told you once before, you are a good man. You make me so proud, I love you, son."
Bosco looked up at his mother and his carefully built wall came down. He felt the tears flow down his face. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to" he whispered.
She sat down on the couch beside him and pulled him to her. "I know, baby. It's okay."
Bosco laid there in his mother's arms and they both cried.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
I shut my eyes to stop the images of the last twelve hours.
My glass is empty but Ma's asleep in my lap so I can't get more.
She told me again that I'm a good man. But I'm not a good man, not really. I'm just another hotheaded screw-up. But at least I have people that care about me enough to forgive me when I do screw-up.
Maybe that's all anybody really needs, people that love them and care and forgive them when they screw-up.
My hands are still shaking; I can still see the blood on Faith's face, but that's okay. When I can't feel the guilt or remember the cry she made when I shot her...that's when I need to worry.
I look back at the gun at my feet. Glen didn't think he had any options, he didn't think anybody cared. I did, but I didn't tell him soon enough.
I'm lucky to have people that tell me, that's all that I need for now.
The End.
He didn't remember going home. When he left the hospital, he had avoided any of the officers that might have been waiting for him. He didn't want to make a statement. What could he say? The reason one of
New York's finest is in the hospital is because her partner is a total screw-up and nothing will ever change?
When he got to his apartment door, he fished the keys out of his pocket, fumbled with the lock and pushed open the door. He stepped inside and threw his keys on the table next to the door.
He then turned and headed for the kitchen. He reached up to the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled two bottles of Jim Bean down. One was unopened, the other was about half full.
He put the full bottle under his arm and grabbed a glass from the counter as his turned and left
the kitchen.
Faith had forgiven him.
But, no matter what she said to him, Bosco knew she would never trust him again. How could she trust him when his own stupidity almost killed her? She hadn't trusted him once to tell him about her cancer. That had hurt. She thought that he wouldn't be able to handle it. She was probably right.
How would he be able to trust himself again?
Bosco set the bottles down on the coffee table and walked to the closet. He opened the door and stared at the gun case leaning against the wall. He hated Hobart for what he had done to himself and to him. Maybe Hobart should have shot him when he had the chance. That way he wouldn't have to worry about anyone else ever again.
He remembered one time he told Faith that he had no sympathy for people that ended it all. He thought that it took a weak person to take the easy way out. But, Hobart had been a tough guy. He had done things in his life that Bosco would probably never be able to do. If
Hobart hadn't been strong enough, what made him so sure that he stood a chance?
Bosco pulled the gun case from the closet and carried it back to the table and sat it down. He plopped down on the couch beside it. He grabbed the bottle in front of him, broke the seal, and poured some of the amber liquid into his glass. He studied the case for a second, then leaned back. His hands were shaking again.
Why had Glen giving the gun to him?
The pounding on the door startled him. Who in the hell could that be? He ignored it, willing whoever it was to go away and leave him alone. The only thing that happened was that the pounding got louder.
"Maurice, open the door!" His mother shouted at him through the door.
"Ma?" What was she doing there?
He set the glass down and lurched from the couch and unsteadily made his way to the door. He pulled the door open and stood there for a second, staring at his mother. She looked tired and upset.
"I thought you weren't speaking to me?" It came out a little harsher than he meant and she flinched at the words.
"You're drunk."
Bosco snorted. "So?"
He then turned his back on her and went back to the couch, and slumped back down on it.
"What are you doing here?"
"Your partner's husband called me a little while ago. He told me what happened. He thought someone should come over here and check on you."
Fred called her?
"Why did he call you?" he asked as he picked up the glass from the table to take another sip.
"He was worried about you."
Bosco almost choked on his drink as he laughed. "Fred was worried about me? You're kidding right?"
Bosco turned to look over the couch at her. She was still standing next to the door with a sad expression on her face.
"Can't somebody worry about you?" She paused then asked softly. "How are you, Maurice?"
Bosco shrugged his shoulders then turned; he didn't want to look at her.
He propped his feet up on the table in front of him and then his gaze fell on the gun next to his feet. She was trying to comfort him, trying to give him sympathy. That was the last thing in the world he wanted right now. He didn't want her sympathy; he didn't deserve it. Didn't she see that because of him Faith was in the hospital? She could have died, how did she think he was?
"Ma, I screwed up again, this time it wasn't just a simple mistake. I almost killed my best friend. I
...just leave me alone."
Bosco heard her mutter something and then she was suddenly standing in front of him. She reached down and grabbed the glass from his hand.
"I will not leave you alone. That's been my biggest mistake all along."
She looked down at the gun on the coffee table and closed her eyes. When she opened them again they were shining bright with unshed tears.
"Ever since you was little I left you alone. When your father left, I told you that you were the man of the house. So every time he came back, every time he came to your window at night, I said nothing to you. I let you stand up to him. For god sakes, you were still only a little boy and I let your protect me and your brother because I was too frightened to do it myself. I made you take on too much; I forced you to grow up too soon."
She was crying now.
"Please don't, it's okay" he whispered.
She shook her head violently then gestured at the gun on the table. "Maurice, I'm sorry that you had to go through such horrible things."
Bosco felt the tears threaten to come. He bent his head to look at the floor. "It's not your fault."
"And not everything that happens is your fault either. Maurice, the only thing that happened today was that you finally realized that you're human. Just like everyone else you make mistakes. Everyone is allowed to make mistakes, it takes a man to stand up and let yourself be forgiven for them."
She paused, then she bent down and gently took his chin. She raised it until they were looking each other in the eyes. "I told you once before, you are a good man. You make me so proud, I love you, son."
Bosco looked up at his mother and his carefully built wall came down. He felt the tears flow down his face. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to" he whispered.
She sat down on the couch beside him and pulled him to her. "I know, baby. It's okay."
Bosco laid there in his mother's arms and they both cried.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
I shut my eyes to stop the images of the last twelve hours.
My glass is empty but Ma's asleep in my lap so I can't get more.
She told me again that I'm a good man. But I'm not a good man, not really. I'm just another hotheaded screw-up. But at least I have people that care about me enough to forgive me when I do screw-up.
Maybe that's all anybody really needs, people that love them and care and forgive them when they screw-up.
My hands are still shaking; I can still see the blood on Faith's face, but that's okay. When I can't feel the guilt or remember the cry she made when I shot her...that's when I need to worry.
I look back at the gun at my feet. Glen didn't think he had any options, he didn't think anybody cared. I did, but I didn't tell him soon enough.
I'm lucky to have people that tell me, that's all that I need for now.
The End.