Author's note: Here's part four, and as usual thank you to those who replied. You know who you are. ;)

***

Chapter four – Without any Warning

***

Bosco felt himself waking up from his unconscious state. His mind immediately registered a throbbing pain to the side of his head where Diaz had struck him with the pipe, and a wave of nausea washed over him as soon as he tried to move.

His eyes slowly opened as he raised his left hand and instinctively started to rub his temple in a vain attempt to soothe the pain.

He blinked a couple of times, and the room finally came into view. Dirt. Dim light. Scattered boxes.

He wasn't sure where he was or what had hit him, but a sense of dread had risen within him since he'd opened his eyes. He had the sinking feeling that something horrible had just happened, but tried to force the thought out of his mind.

The last thing he remembered clearly was the look on Faith's eyes as he told her he didn't need her help. That he was going to prove her wrong. After that, only flashes of actions and feelings that his mind, still disoriented from the attack, refused to remember.

He could hear a voice in the distance, but was unable to make out the words. The voice sounded familiar, though he couldn't tell whom it belonged to, and Bosco decided to find out where it was coming from.

He pushed himself up and rubbed his sore neck as he once again looked at his surroundings, searching the room top to bottom, left to right for something familiar. He found none.

Another wave of nausea hit him, and he was forced down on his knees. Using his left hand to support himself, he wiped some sweat off his forehead and took in a few deep breaths.

That's when he noticed the gun still clutched in his right hand.

He couldn't remember what had happened, but found it unlikely that whoever had knocked him out had apparently forgotten about his weapon.

He shook his head as if to clear his mind as he surveyed himself for further injuries, but that didn't help. He was dressed in his regular clothes but was holding a gun. Working Anti-Crime? But then again, why was he alone?

I need to get the hell out of here, he reasoned as he pulled himself back to his feet and took a few, tentative steps.

The voice was still clear, although it sounded more distant now. Bosco stepped into the hallway, gun drawn, and started to walk towards it. With each step, he felt more confident, his strenght slowly coming back, when something caught his eye and he stopped in his tracks.

A man was laying on the ground, face down. His hands were tied behind his back, and he wasn't moving.

"What the hell?" he frowned.

Even in the faint light of the building, he could see the blood pooled around him, and three small holes where the bullets had hit. He cast an involuntary glance at his gun and got closer.

The man was obviously dead, but the fact that he'd been shot in the back meant he was probably running, trying to escape. But why running away with your hands cuffed?

Bosco's mind was racing a mile a minute, struggling to remember, asking questions he wasn't yet ready to answer. He bent down and checked for a pulse though he already knew he wouldn't find one.

Is this the man who attacked me? He wondered as he realized he could no longer hear the voice.

Suddenly, flashes of lost memories assaulted his head.

I'm looking for a suspect. Diaz. Ray Diaz. Graffiti covering the walls. A noise upstairs, then someone grabs me from behind. Where the hell is Cruz? Cruz! His brain cried out. We were together.

"I need to find her," he urged himself. "And she better be okay."

His heart beat faster and faster as he neared the edge of the stairs, his footsteps pressing on the pavement the only sound now echoing in the abandoned building. A few seconds later, the silence was broken. He jumped, startled, and flinched as the movement only made his headache worse.

The voice was back. Stronger than ever.

"Thank God," he whispered as he recognized his girlfriend speaking.

She sounded fine, and hearing no other voices around, he figured she was talking on the phone. He was about to call her name when a few words caught his attention. Was she talking about him?

He leaned with both hands on the railing and focused on what she was saying.

"No Lieu, I don't know what happened." She explained, absently running a hand through her hair. "I was knocked unconscious, and didn't see him until a few minutes ago... Yeah, he's dead. CSU should be here any minute. ... No, that's not how... Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I gotta tell you something."

She paused for a moment and smiled, unaware of the man listening to her every word.

"Diaz, he was shot in the back. Three times. But I'm not sure it was self-defense. Lieu, the guy had his hands cuffed behind his back. ... Yeah, I'm sure. And I know what that means. ... Alright, maybe we're jumping to conclusions here." She said, throwing a hand up in despair and letting out an angered breath.

She was getting restless, but had to convince the Lieutenant so she did her best to calm down before she spoke again.

"Look, I know it's probably too soon to tell, and of course I hope I'm wrong, but I think Boscorelli lost it. I mean, he could've threatened the guy and... Yeah, I know he's a good cop, but even good cops make mistakes. We all know he's got a temper, maybe he thought I was dead and lost all control."

Her hand curled into fist at her side. The guy was tougher than she'd expected. Did he actually care about his officer?

"Lieu, we're talking about murder here. He may have been upset but he made a mistake, and as much as it pains me there's a chance that Boscorelli's responsible of killing this man in cold blood."

Bosco's eyes widened in shock.

This is not happening. No way. I didn't shoot a man in cold blood. That's not me. Please tell me that wasn't me... He backed away, his hands jerking from the railing as if he'd been burned, and staggered backwards.

That can't be me, his mind kept screaming, drowning out every other sound.

Cruz was still talking, her subtle words slowly finding their way into the Lieutenant's head, but Bosco wasn't listening anymore. He didn't need to.

Without even realizing it, his now unsteady legs led him back along the hallway, back where the nightmare had started. He passed Diaz's limp body, his eyes fixing again on the puddle of blood around him, and the sight almost made him sick to his stomach.

He leaned on the wall and tried to catch his breath. Then, in an ultimate attempt to convince himself he'd heard it wrong, he raised his hand to check his gun. Three bullets were missing.

"Oh my God..." He closed his eyes and let the news sink in. I'm a murderer. I killed a man and I don't even remember it.

He stood there, pinned to the wall, thinking about what had just happened, wondering whether or not he was guilty as charged.

They're going to arrest me. As soon as that phone call is over, Cruz is going to come looking for me.

He straightened himself and started walking, feeling like he was being torn apart from the inside out. I can't go to jail. I can't.

He quickened his pace and entered one of the rooms as his desperation threatened to overcome him. He pointed straight to the window, and easily lifted it open.

He stepped out onto the fire escape, and in a matter of seconds he was gone.

TBC...