Title: Tears From a Star (4/4)
Author: X_tremeroswellian
Email: X_tremeroswellian@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters belong to John Wells, Edward Allen Bernero, NBC and a bunch of other people I have no affiliation with whatsoever. No money is being made; please don't sue. Song is "Fragile" by Sting.
Rating: R for language, violence and content.
Spoilers: Everything up to and including "The Long Guns."
Summary: It's all about the choices we make.
Distribution: My site Only Time, 55-HQ, fanfiction.net, anywhere else that TW fics are archived.
Category: Alternate ending for "The Long Guns."
Subcategories: Angst, angst and more angst
Feedback: Please
Dedication: This part is for Jess, who begged me for the next part. And also for Dem, for helping me out with it.
"Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see life with a clearer view again."
-Alex Tan
Tears From a Star (Part 4: Catharsis)
Someone was knocking on his door again.
Didn't they understand he didn't want to talk to them?
Didn't they understand he just wanted to be left alone?
He made no move to answer the door; he knew if he ignored whoever it was long enough, they'd eventually give up and go away. They always did.
"Bosco?"
He jerked his head to stare in shock at the front door.
"Boz, it's me," he heard his partner call. "I know you're in there, so just open the door, all right?"
He remained motionless, paralyzed on the couch by his own fears and uncertainty. He couldn't face her; not yet. He wasn't ready.
"I'm not leaving, Bosco. So either you let me in or I'll stand out here all day and yell through the door."
There was no doubt in his mind that she meant it.
Swallowing hard, Bosco slowly got to his feet and moved toward the door. "I'm all right. I just don't feel like talking, okay?" he said through the door, his voice rough from lack of use. He hoped she would just go away.
"No, it's not okay."
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the wall.
"Bosco, I need to talk to you. And I don't really wanna have this conversation with a door between us, all right?" Her voice softened and there was a hint of pleading to it. "Boz, please. Let me in?"
He wanted her to leave; didn't want her to see what he'd been reduced to. But he couldn't bring himself to tell her to get lost. Guilt washed over him. He owed it to her to at least hear what she had to say.
Bosco reached up and turned the lock. Then he took a deep breath and opened the door.
Faith stared at him. He stared back at her, a mixture of emotions clouding his eyes. His face was pale; he hadn't shaved in at least two or three days. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under them.
"You're pale," he said, his voice rough.
"So are you," she replied softly. "Can I come in?"
Bosco seemed to hesitate for a moment, then he stepped aside to let her in.
Faith glanced around. His normally neat apartment looked like it had been ransacked. Photograph albums and pictures were strewn across the kitchen table and a few had fallen on the floor. The remains of what she suspected was once a coffee mug lay shattered on the floor; a dark spot stained the wall above it. Empty plates, dirty bowls and glasses were set all around.
"Oh, Bosco," she said under her breath, a deep sadness tugging at her heart. She turned to face him.
"I'd offer you something to drink, but I don't really...have anything," he told her, his eyes downcast.
"It's okay," Faith assured him. "Can we sit down?"
Bosco glanced at her for a second, a startled look on his face. "Yeah, sorry, I should have..." His voice trailed off and he motioned her to the couch. "How are you feeling?"
Faith sat down and patted the seat next to her. "I'm good."
He sat down beside her, his eyes now locked on her face. "Really?"
She met his gaze and nodded. "Yeah, the doctor said I was healing pretty quickly. Should be back to normal before you know it."
Bosco nodded slowly, but she could still see uncertainty in his eyes.
She reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm all right, Boz," she said softly. "I promise."
He released the breath he'd been holding and ran a hand through his hair. "Right. Good." There was a moment of silence. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't come see you, I just--" He shook his head and looked away.
"I know. It's okay."
"No, it's not."
Faith studied him. Now he was refusing to look at her. "Bosco?"
He took a deep breath. "I'm quitting, Faith. I'm done being a cop."
"I know. It's okay," she assured him.
"No, it's not," Bosco answered. It wasn't okay; it would never be okay again.
Faith was staring at him. He could feel it, but he couldn't force himself to turn and meet her gaze. "Bosco?"
He took a deep breath. He had to tell her. It was now or never. "I'm quitting, Faith. I'm done being a cop."
"You know I'm not gonna let you do that, right?" she replied without hesitation.
"Faith--"
"Look at me, Bosco."
He couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt her move, and a moment later, she sat down on the coffee table right in front of him.
"You can't quit, Bosco. It's not who you are."
"Oh, yeah? Who the hell am I, then? Huh, Faith?" he demanded.
She simply looked at him, calm confidence and determination reflecting in her green eyes; she remained silent.
"I'll tell you who I am. I'm a fuck-up."
"No."
"I'm a god-damned fuck-up just like my father. Just like Mikey. I hurt people. That's all I know how to do. It's the only thing I'm good at."
"Bosco--"
"Hobart was right. All I do is mess up everyone I care about."
Faith shook her head. "Bosco, Hobart was a sick man, all right? You can't place value on anything he may have said to you."
"But he was right, Faith. Don't you get it? Don't you see? Everything I touch falls apart."
Faith stared at him, her heart breaking for him. "Things fall apart, Bosco. It's not your fault. It just happens. I don't know the reasons. But sometimes...sometimes things fall apart because they need to be rebuilt. So they can be better, stronger. Nobody's got control over how or when it happens. But when they do fault apart, you can runaway and hide, or you can help rebuild them. That's all anyone can do."
"I killed him. Right there in his own apartment. I didn't even...I didn't even think about it. I just...shot him, Faith," he whispered.
"To save me. You did it to save me," she reminded him gently.
"I couldn't let him--he was going to--" Bosco's voice cracked.
"I know, Bosco."
"You were laying on the floor and...there was...blood...so much blood...everywhere...and I tried to get you to wake up, but...you were so pale." He lifted his head to look at her. Unshed tears shone in his weary eyes. "And I thought--I thought you were going to die. And it was my fault. If you had died, it would have been my fault..."
Faith ignored the urge to cut him off and assure him that it wasn't his fault and that everything was going to be all right. But as badly as she wanted to tell him those things, she knew it was more important for him to get all of the thoughts and feelings he'd bottled up inside out. He needed this, and so did she. Catharsis.
"And I just kept thinkin' that if you died...I'd never get to say how sorry I was...for all the crap I've put you through. For all the times I never listened to you when you were talking...or even when you weren't. I'm sorry I let you down. That I didn't protect you."
Faith felt as though he'd kicked her in the stomach. Her own eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Boz...you never let me down. You've always been there for me when I've let you be." She looked down. "If anything, I'm the one who owes you an apology."
He stared at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at him. "I'm talking about why I waited so long to tell you about my cancer."
"Faith, I know that--"
"No, Bosco. You don't. The reason I didn't tell you...it wasn't because I didn't think you'd be there for me. It's because--I was scared. Scared that I was gonna die. Fred wasn't dealing with it very well and every time I was around him...it was like there was this thick black cloud hanging over our heads. I couldn't wait to go to work just so I could have something else to think about, something normal. Part of me wanted to tell you the truth, Bosco. But the rest of me...I just needed everything to be normal between us so I didn't go completely crazy. You were the one person I could depend on to be the same. You were my rock, Boz...and you didn't even know it."
They stared at each other for a long time.
"It's been a rough few months. For both of us," Faith said, her voice quieter. "But I can't...give up. I can't runaway and hide. I need to help rebuild. And I don't know if I can do that without you."
Bosco looked away, stared out the window. "How can you ever trust me again? I let you get shot." A single tear slid down his cheek.
Faith swallowed hard and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her again. Their eyes locked and another tear slid down her partner's face and dripped onto her hand. "I love you, Bosco," she said softly. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead gently. "I'll never trust anyone else the way I do you. It's not your fault."
"I let you get shot," he said, looking away. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, but made no move to wipe it away.
A second later, he felt her hands on his face, and he found himself staring at her again. Her eyes were full of warmth and sympathy and concern...for him. He felt another tear slide down his cheek. How had he ever gotten so lucky to have her in his life? He knew he certainly didn't deserve her.
Faith was looking at him intensely. "I love you, Bosco," she whispered. Bosco felt his breath catch in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut tight as she pressed her lips to his forehead and kissed him there. "I'll never trust anyone else the way I do you. It's not your fault."
Bosco wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him, hugging her close, but not too tightly, remembering that she'd been shot less than a week ago. He buried his face in her shoulder, in her hair, taking the comfort she offered. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling horror wash over him as he realized he had sobbed the words.
Faith rubbed his back. "Everything's going to be all right," she promised. "We're gonna be all right, Boz."
He remained silent. And prayed to God that she was right.
The End
If blood will flow
When flesh and steel are one
Drying in the color
Of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will
Wash the stains away
But something in our minds
Will always stay
Perhaps this final act
Was meant to clinch
A lifetime's argument
That nothing comes
From violence
And nothing ever could
For all those born
Beneath an angry star
Lest we forget
How fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star
Like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star
Like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are