That Was Me

By Adalanta

Disclaimer: See Part One

Author's Note: I can't believe all of the reviews that you all have left! Thank you, thank you, thank you! The following is part four – the last part of this story. I have really enjoyed writing this story and am kinda sad to see it come to an end. However, a part of me is also thrilled – this is the first multi-chapter story that I have finished!

Thanks once again for being so kind with your reviews.

Part Four – Faith

That coulda been me.

The mournful sounds of "Amazing Grace" ring out through the cemetery, weaving between the bodies of the living and the tombstones of the dead, while I stare at the casket and think - that coulda been me.

I watch, mesmerized, as Ty salutes Craig's widow and her son, and for just a moment - the scene shifts and Fred and Emily and Charlie are sitting in those chairs, looking at my casket. It's a horrifying thing, imagining your own funeral, but it's even worse when in reality, it almost was your funeral. I was lucky, I know. The last few nights when I get home from work, I quietly open their bedroom door and stare at them, at their sweet, innocent faces, and thank God that I'm still alive.

I shudder to think how close it was, and I can't help but wonder about that first time the shooter fired. What made him decide to shoot at Bosco instead of me? Why did he choose to kill my partner? Did he flip a coin? Did he feel more threatened by male cops than female ones? Did he even think about it or did he just fire? The questions swirl inside my head, each question spawning another one. That was so close…and even closer for Bosco. I can't imagine what I'd do if something ever happened to him. He's my partner, my best friend, and I trust him with my life every single day.

Honestly…I trust him more than I trust Fred, my own husband.

Then, when I was in the squad car, waiting for Bosco to sign his paperwork and come back, the window right next to me shattered, blowing shards of glass everywhere. I later found the bullet lodged in the other door. I don't know how it missed me, but it did. All those shots being fired - any one of them could have killed me, too. And then in the junk yard…well, I don't even want to think about that.

I was so tempted to call in sick to work, but in the end, all I could see was Bosco's face, Rudy's blood splattered across it, and I knew that I couldn't do that. I mean, what if something happened to Bosco that day when he was stuck with a different partner, one he didn't know and didn't trust? Or even worse, what if Lieu sent him out alone? He could have gotten shot in some alley and bled to death before anyone ever found him. Bosco was why I came back the next day.

Now, don't get me wrong – I love my husband and my kids. But there's a bond between cops – between partners, specifically – that is unlike any other. It's my job to keep Bosco safe, or at least try to. That's a hard job, some might even say impossible, but it is my job and no one else's. I'd go through hell for him. Actually, searching through that junkyard for the shooter was about as close to hell as I've ever been – and I hope it's as close as I ever get. Death was nearby, so close I could actually reach out a shaking hand and touch it.

I'm so lucky that I got another chance at life, unlike Craig Richardson and Rudy. I know that, but I can't help myself. I stand, silently staring at the casket before me and think…

That coulda been me.