Yay! Part 12! Not too much more to say...

Bon-apetit!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abyss
By: Syko4Bosco aka A. Lalad
Rating: PG-13
Category: Bosco Angst, B/Y UST
Summary: Bosco is kidnapped and witnesses a horrific act
that he can not come to terms with. As his guilt
and silence overwhelm him, he spirals downward
into a deep depression. Can Faith get to him
before it's too late?
Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership, nor do I gain any type
of compensation or reward for this story. I
write for my own personal enjoyment, and share
my writing with others who may also enjoy it.
Third Watch (c) and all registered characters belong
to NBC.



Abyss
By: Syko4Bosco aka A. Lalad
(12/?)


==*==
One Week Later
Angel of Mercy
2:54 pm

Faith walked in just in time to find Bosco struggling to get his
shirt on.

They were discharging him today, and although he was pretty much
back to his normal self (minus about 10-15 pounds) he was still very
sore. Thank goodness she'd chosen a button-up shirt. He would
be having a much harder time getting anything else on.

She rushed over and helped him lift the shirt onto his shoulders.

He thanked her quietly and started to button it. She walked over
to the bed and started to fold his crumpled sweat pants.

Things between them had been strange lately. They both felt closer to
each other now that Bosco had admitted the events during his disappearance.
The weight that had been lifted off of him when he'd let it all out...
it made him feel better. She knew now what he was going through and
she could help him.

It wasn't all good though. Bosco hadn't told Faith [i]everything[/i]. He...
he couldn't. He couldn't even admit his actions to himself--if she knew...

Faith couldn't even come to terms with her own emotions about Jane
Doe. The FBI had been searching for her identity for the past week,
not to mention her body, and the eery awkwardness of the situation
confused them both to periods of strange silence.

And there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he just...couldn't.

From behind him, Faith spoke, "The doctor said he'd be by in about
15 minutes, and then we can get you home."

His life was one big act now. Trying to hide how he really felt. Playing
sane so he would be left alone and trying to convince himself that he
was recovering. Forcing the expected reaction, he said happily, "It's
about time! Get me OUT of here!" but inside he was terrified.

He was going home. After more than two weeks in the safe, busy
hospital, he was going home.

Home to an empty apartment, where he would be alone with the shadows.
Where something could happen to him and no one would know until it
was too late.

Where he would be stranded with his thoughts and memories.

He was not looking forward to it.

After all, there was no evidence that Angela Karas was dead. He couldn't
quite remember how he'd gotten away...really it was all hazy from Jane
Doe's death until he woke up in the hospital. Bosco was almost sure
he remembered killing Angela...hitting her over the head with something
metal...a chair? Yes, it was a fuzzy memory, but he [i]did[/i] remember hitting
her over the head with a metal folding chair.

Aggravated with his doubt, he assured himself that he HAD killed Angela,
pushing any ideas to the contrary out of his mind.

For the moment, he was most concerned about Ricardo. He doubted that
Ricardo would care enough to come after him--he was only involved in the first
place for the drugs Angela had been giving him, but he was still
worried.

He rubbed the wrinkles out of his clothes and turned to find Faith no
where in sight. His heart skipped a beat as he searched the room.

"Faith?" his voice laden with poorly hidden panic.

She poked her head out of the bathroom, and smiled.

"Just packing up your toothbrush and stuff."

He nodded and felt his pulse flutter.


==*==
26th & Washington
3:35 pm

"So...are you gonna need a ride tomorrow?" She slowed as the light turned
yellow.

He looked at her confused, then remembered what she was talking about.

"No, I'll get there myself."

"You can't miss it you know."

"I know." He turned his head and looked out the window at the dreary
wet road.

"If you do well, Swersky says you can come back sooner."

"Yeah."

"Maybe it'll even help..."

"OK." He spat, then regretted it. He just didn't feel like discussing this
particular topic right now. It was one of those things that you wished
you could ignore and it would go away. Unfortunately, his 2 o'clock
appointment with Dr. Daniel Rex would not be easily ignored. Was it so
bad that he didn't want to think of it?

"I'm sorry." he said, and she nodded, understanding. "It's just...you know
how I feel about those guys..."

"Bosco, psychiatrists [i]do[/i] help people with problems."

"Psychiatrists are the bullshit answer for people with bullshit problems.
Normal people" (he emphasized the 'normal') "can deal with their own
problems. They don't need to talk to some guy who's gonna give 'em some
crazy drugs and treat them like a whack job."

"Well, whatever you may believe, the hospital and the station have both
said you need one before you can come back to work, so you might as well
try and make the best of it and make it easy on yourself."

Faith omitted the fact that she thought he would greatly benefit from seeing
a psychiatrist. If he knew she felt like that...he probably wouldn't talk
to her again.

Ever.

Faith understood Bosco's feelings. Sometimes she felt the same way, but
what he had been through was incredibly traumatic, and as much as he was
sure he could get through it alone, she knew that it would never happen.

She hoped he would keep it simple--making trouble would prolong the torture,
and as much as she explained it to him, she was still sure he wasn't hearing
her. If he complied with the shrink, he would be released with good marks,
and be able to come back to work.

"Besides," she added, "They're gonna have me training rookies until you
get back, and you know how much I can't stand that!" She smiled at him
and managed to get one in return.


==*==
Bosco's apartment
4:02 pm

"Home sweet home." Bosco muttered to himself sarcastically as Faith unlocked
the door.

He set his bag down by the door, and gingerly took his coat off. The low
light of a winter afternoon was fading to night, but Bosco could see the
place well enough.

Strange to be home after all this time.

As if reading his mind, Faith commented, "Wow, it's been over a month,
hasn't it?"

"Yeah." he said quietly, unsure what to do, feeling like a stranger in his
own home.

Faith walked to the kitchen and he heard a small squeal of disgust.

She returned and placed her hands on her hips.

"You know, using the fridge wouldn't be such a bad idea next time you have
leftover pizza."

He smiled sheepishly and followed her back into the kitchen.

"Whoa, this place is in some serious need of a can of LYSOL!" he said,
wrinkling his face in disgust.

"I think 50 cans would be more accurate." Faith took the lid off of the
garbage can and shoved the whole month old box of pizza in, cardboard
edges crumpling.

He opened the fridge. "Half the stuff in here is bad."

She leaned over to look and shook her head.

"Half of what? You have a gallon of milk, a bottle of mustard, 2
rotten lemons and...and THAT."

She pointed to a plate which housed the mystery meat of the day.

"We'll be doing some major grocery shopping tomorrow."

"What about tonight?"

She looked a little surprised. Maybe it was the quick desperation in
his voice that slipped out before he could catch it.

"Ok, we can go tonight..." a look of worry fell over her face briefly,
then hid again.

Bosco exhaled deeply. Grocery shopping would definitely buy him some
time.


==*==
Bosco's apartment
3:36 am

The trip to the grocery store ate up about an hour of the night. He
convinced Faith to stay for dinner; another hour. She insisted upon
making sure he was settled; 45 minutes. He convinced her to go home
because he was too afraid to admit that he wanted her to stay; 15 minutes.

So now, here he was. Alone. Afraid.

Every light he owned was on. The tv was featuring hour 6 of infomercials.
The little ankle gun he'd bought last year was on the table next to him.

To say he was tired was an understatement. Exhausted was more like it.
But sleeping was the last thing Bosco wanted to do.

What if he was dreaming right now? What if he would go to bed and wake
up back at 1013 Burlington, tied to the bed, and they had found out his
little secret?

Shaking his head quickly, as if to rid himself of the thoughts, Bosco
paused, swore at himself, and resumed his observations of the Pasta
Magic and all it's wonders.


==*==

[i]"So, OFFICER." Angela walked to the bed slowly, stumbling and stoned
but lucid enough to harm him. "You liked being a cop, didn't you?"

She laughed and brought the lighter in her hand up to her eye level.
She ignited it, and watched the long flame dance before her eyes, dreamlike.

He found himself transfixed by it also, and realizing it, he forced
his eyes away from the fire.

He saw a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see
her holding his police badge. His stomach sank a little. He was proud
of that badge.

He watched as she carefully held it above the flame. In seconds, it
was contorting itself and he could see the heat turn the surface to
liquid.

She moved to the table and tossed the badge into the basin that was there,
after it got to hot to hold. She tossed in newspaper and set the whole
thing alight.

Hypnotized by the flames, he didn't see her get the baseball bat.

Turning quickly, he had just enough time to see it before it came down[/i]

Bosco awoke, sweating, heart drumming and out of breath. When had he fallen
asleep?

He couldn't do this. He wasn't going to be able to stay awake by staying
inside and watching crappy 3 am advertisements.

In fact, the mere thought of being alone in his apartment right now scared
him more than anything.

Thoughts and images ran through his head and he grabbed his temples. Bosco
desperately tried to focus on anything else; the weather, cows, toast...
nothing would work.

Ignoring his screaming muscles, he unfolded himself from the couch, went
to change clothes, and laced up his shoes. He grabbed his keys, cell phone
and his gun, and leaving the lights on, locked his apartment and headed
downstairs.

He was going to run.

====================
END OF PART TWELVE (12/?)