Jimmy whirled as soon as the bus stopped outside, and he walked out
of the door into the dim light of dusk that shrouded New York like a cloak
sweeping over the skyscrapers and apartment blocks, casting stretching
shadows down into the streets below.
Bobby and Kim climbed out of the side doors, and the latter immediately yanked the scrunchie out of her hair, her face grave, her eyes downcast.
Jimmy came forward immediately, concern ebbing in him. He started jogging without realising, casting a single glance to a stoic-seeming Bobby Caffey.
"Kimmy, what happened? What's wrong?"
She looked him in the eyes, and they locked gazes for a while. He couldn't read what was wrong in her expression. She was in a mess. Her hair was tousled, and her eyes were red. She looked exhausted. He took a hold of her arms gently.
"What is it?"
She shook her head, and said, "Faith got shot."
Jimmy's arms fell to his sides instantly. Hell, he was no great fan of the cops down the road, but he knew Faith Yokas, and she was a decent person, one of the best in 55th.
"How?"
Bobby came back, and started to explain.
Jimmy listened tentatively, and with a little disbelief as the male paramedic slowly went through what had happened, from the moment they had gotten the call about an attack, to going to Faith's apartment and telling her family.
"Oh my god, is she gonna be okay?"
Kim shrugged. "I think so. Morales told us they'd stopped the bleeding, and that she was going to be okay." She walked away after that, and for a moment, Jimmy fumbled over what to do. He decided to chase after her, knowing that guilt was tearing her apart at that very moment.
"Kim, it's not your fault, you know that. How can you blame yourself?"
Kim didn't even turn back, just started climbing the stairs two at a time, Jimmy right behind her. "Because I can, because I was there, and I keep thinking... I don't know, maybe he should have shot me."
"How can you think that, Kim?" Jimmy blurted, taking a hold of her shoulder and spinning her around, making her face him. "You have a kid. Joey needs you."
Kim didn't waste any time in responding. "And so does Faith. You don't think Charlie and Emily need their mother? What about Fred, huh?"
Jimmy stopped, his hand falling from her frame, his eyes locked firmly with hers. This had them both messed up. It wasn't even a fireman or a paramedic, like it had been with Jerry. But still, it felt just as bad, to know that someone they both knew and spoke with frequently was lying in the hospital. It never changed.
Bobby appeared near to them, and he moved to the fridge, removing a soda, saying, "Sully and Davis just got back. They said Bosco took off."
Kim wheeled on her partner. "Where did he go?"
"They think he went after that guy Wayne, the one who shot Faith."
"It wouldn't surprise me," Jimmy said under his breath, grateful no one heard. His looked between the two paramedics and said, "So what do we do?"
"They said we should keep an eye out for him. He's probably out there looking for revenge. Sully and Davis are gonna see if they can find him before he does something stupid." Bobby shrugged under his jacket.
"Knowing Bosco," Kim began, hands on her hips, "that won't take very long."
* * *
Faith came awake slowly, grateful for the low lighting in the room in which she found herself. She furrowed her brow weakly, and felt her eyes casting this way and that, impatient for them to come into proper focus, finding a familiar face at her bedside.
"Doc?"
A smile spread across the dark face, and he nodded, his eyes looking down on her. He was leaning over her bed slightly, arms rested on a raised railing.
"Hi, Faith," he greeted her, and took a breath. "How are you feeling?"
She took a moment, letting her mind come to terms with how her body was feeling, and what parts of it she could move comfortably, and what parts ached. "Like I got shot."
He smiled again, nodding once more. "I just thought I'd drop by and see you whilst I was here."
Faith looked up at him, and although she was surprised her husband wasn't here by her side, let alone her children, she found herself longing for the company of another.
"Where's Bosco?"
Doc let his eyes wander for a moment, before tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes narrowing, as he said, "We're not too sure."
Faith sat up instantly, with as much ease and causing herself as little discomfort as possible, which wasn't a simple task. She winced, and avoided moving her left arm pretty much altogether. "What do you mean?"
Doc held out a hand to stop her hurting herself, and continued, "He came in to see you about an hour ago, and then took off. We haven't been able to find him, Faith. Needless to say, his behaviour has us all a little worried."
"Tell me about it. I've been putting up with it for a long time. I know how it feels," she said, her voice suddenly hoarse.
Doc handed her a cup of water, which she took and sipped through a straw steadily, pacing herself despite her thirst.
"You have to find him."
"You're not kidding," Doc agreed, standing up straight and pocketing his hands pensively. "Sully thinks he's gone to find that Wayne Thomson guy... the one who shot you."
Faith let her head hang for a minute, and closed her eyes as she spoke, "Dammit, Bos', why do you do this to me?"
"Do you have any ideas on where he'd look?" Doc inquired gently.
Faith met his gaze, and felt her thoughts rushing about madly in her head for a moment until a couple of ideas came upon her. "He'll talk to other street gangs, see what he can dig up. Did they try his radio?"
"Three times now, and each time he hasn't replied."
Faith felt something inside her tug heavily, and her heart sank a little. Why did he feel the need to do this sort of thing? He was only going to get himself seriously hurt or killed, and Faith didn't want that, no matter how important revenge was to her partner. She wasn't ready to see him get into a mess he couldn't get back out of again... because of her.
She remembered the seconds before feeling the bullet hit her, and how everything had seemed to stand still for a fraction of a moment as that trigger had been squeezed. She had wanted to see her children's faces, hear her husband tell her he loved her... god only knew if he really meant it at all any more, the way he acted. She hadn't been ready to go, and obviously someone had been listening to her, otherwise she wouldn't have woken up on this hospital bed, which wasn't anywhere near as comfortable as she had thought it would be.
"Do you think you can get me a radio in here? I might be able to get in contact with him, get through to him maybe."
Doc seemed to brighten at the idea, and he nodded vehemently. "I'll see what I can do."
"Okay, thanks," Faith called after him quietly as he left in a hurry, and sipped her water again, wishing for something more substantial.
She hoped Bosco was okay.
* * *
Bosco stalked the streets swiftly and with intent, his eyes scanning down every shady alley, and studying the faces of anyone who looked remotely like Wayne Thomson. His body felt literally exhausted, and his head pounded, but he ignored both, adrenaline pumping, anger coursing through him like a drug.
Nothing was going to get in his way until he had caught up with Wayne and given him what he deserved... of course, giving the guy what he deserved would end up with Bosco losing his job.
Right now he didn't care. All he cared about was making him regret what he had done. No one got away with hurting one of Bosco's friends, never... least of all Faith. She was so much more to him than a friend. She was pretty much all he had right now, the only constant that kept him going every day, and he didn't know what he would do if he ever lost that. He wanted to ensure it never would happen.
Turning a corner, he recognised a group of adolescents, and strode up to them, calling out to one by name, seeing the youth turn and grimace at the sight of the cop.
"Whadda you want now, man, I didn't do nothin'."
"I don't care what you did," Bosco snapped, coming to stand literally inches away, seeing out of the corner of his eye that the others who had been with the youth backed away a little. "I want to know if you've seen a guy called Wayne Thomson. You get around... I figured you might have heard of him."
Bosco often ran into this young guy, who went by the unoriginal name of Spike. It made Bosco cringe whenever he had to say it, which he tried to avoid doing as often as possible.
"I don't know no Wayne, man, why are you always in my face?"
"Hey, my partner got shot today, and this Wayne guy needs to be taught a lesson, you understand? Now, have you seen him, or not? It's a simple question," Bosco asked, every word dripping venom.
Spike frowned considerably, and shook his head. "I ain't seen him. I ain't seen him in weeks. He lost it... starting freakin' out. We don't want nothin' to do with him no more."
Bosco nodded slowly. "See, now was that so hard? If you see him, let me know, okay?"
"Right," the kid agreed reluctantly, turning back to his companions and shuffling off.
"I mean it," Bosco mumbled after him, and whirled to go in the other direction, grumbling to himself.
As he walked, he tried telling himself several times that he should just do the sensible thing and head back to the hospital and check up on Faith, see how she was doing. But then, when had he ever been sensible?
With a sigh, he rounded another street corner, and came to a slow halt, narrowing his eyes to see if his mind was playing tricks on him.
Over the road, and walking away from him, was a tall guy in a dark jacket, a baseball cap atop his head. He walked shiftily, every step faster than the last one, and he scanned the streets often.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Bosco muttered, and started to jog over the road, careful not to get hit by a car on the late New York street. When he reached the other side, he kept his eyes as best as he could on his target, trying never to look away, unless Wayne turned back to see if he was being followed. Bosco was using all his resolve to keep from bolting down the street and beating him senseless right then and there. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, make a scene.
Slowly, Bosco started to close the distance between himself and Wayne, feeling his movements quicken as he neared the taller man. He was tempted just to bring out his gun and empty the clip into his back... but that wasn't the sort of guy he really was, he knew he couldn't bring himself to do that. He hoped he never had to.
Wayne made a sharp turn.
Why do they always go down alleys... it's a little bit of a cliché, Bosco thought hurriedly, quickening his pace so as not to lose this guy... again. He had already done that once today, and he wasn't about to do it again.
He let his hand float back to rest on the handle of his gun in its holster as he turned into the alley after Wayne, looking around instantly and with caution. He knew what this guy was capable of, and he knew he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was a bullet in him too, that would be a little counterproductive, despite the resistance his vest would provide.
He drew his gun, feeling a little déjà vu sneak up on him as he paced the alley, peering into every shadowy hidden alcove and doorway, finding that the alley was a lot longer than he had first expected.
Bosco kept his pace slow, listening for any sounds that would give away Wayne's position, and his senses alert, despite his exhaustion.
Where are you? Don't do this to me again, his mind chattered distractingly, and he shook his head a little to clear it. Apart from the noise of the evening New York life behind him walking past the mouth of the alley, it was quiet, and he found that a little disconcerting. He couldn't just have disappeared... could he?
Maybe Bosco hadn't seen him at all... maybe he was so tired his mind was playing damn believable tricks on him.
Just as he was about to peer into a pitch-black corner of a building alcove, his radio sounded rather noisily.
"Bos', are you there? It's me, Faith."
Just as he was about to reach up and reply, something struck him at the base of the skull, plunging him into darkness.
Bobby and Kim climbed out of the side doors, and the latter immediately yanked the scrunchie out of her hair, her face grave, her eyes downcast.
Jimmy came forward immediately, concern ebbing in him. He started jogging without realising, casting a single glance to a stoic-seeming Bobby Caffey.
"Kimmy, what happened? What's wrong?"
She looked him in the eyes, and they locked gazes for a while. He couldn't read what was wrong in her expression. She was in a mess. Her hair was tousled, and her eyes were red. She looked exhausted. He took a hold of her arms gently.
"What is it?"
She shook her head, and said, "Faith got shot."
Jimmy's arms fell to his sides instantly. Hell, he was no great fan of the cops down the road, but he knew Faith Yokas, and she was a decent person, one of the best in 55th.
"How?"
Bobby came back, and started to explain.
Jimmy listened tentatively, and with a little disbelief as the male paramedic slowly went through what had happened, from the moment they had gotten the call about an attack, to going to Faith's apartment and telling her family.
"Oh my god, is she gonna be okay?"
Kim shrugged. "I think so. Morales told us they'd stopped the bleeding, and that she was going to be okay." She walked away after that, and for a moment, Jimmy fumbled over what to do. He decided to chase after her, knowing that guilt was tearing her apart at that very moment.
"Kim, it's not your fault, you know that. How can you blame yourself?"
Kim didn't even turn back, just started climbing the stairs two at a time, Jimmy right behind her. "Because I can, because I was there, and I keep thinking... I don't know, maybe he should have shot me."
"How can you think that, Kim?" Jimmy blurted, taking a hold of her shoulder and spinning her around, making her face him. "You have a kid. Joey needs you."
Kim didn't waste any time in responding. "And so does Faith. You don't think Charlie and Emily need their mother? What about Fred, huh?"
Jimmy stopped, his hand falling from her frame, his eyes locked firmly with hers. This had them both messed up. It wasn't even a fireman or a paramedic, like it had been with Jerry. But still, it felt just as bad, to know that someone they both knew and spoke with frequently was lying in the hospital. It never changed.
Bobby appeared near to them, and he moved to the fridge, removing a soda, saying, "Sully and Davis just got back. They said Bosco took off."
Kim wheeled on her partner. "Where did he go?"
"They think he went after that guy Wayne, the one who shot Faith."
"It wouldn't surprise me," Jimmy said under his breath, grateful no one heard. His looked between the two paramedics and said, "So what do we do?"
"They said we should keep an eye out for him. He's probably out there looking for revenge. Sully and Davis are gonna see if they can find him before he does something stupid." Bobby shrugged under his jacket.
"Knowing Bosco," Kim began, hands on her hips, "that won't take very long."
* * *
Faith came awake slowly, grateful for the low lighting in the room in which she found herself. She furrowed her brow weakly, and felt her eyes casting this way and that, impatient for them to come into proper focus, finding a familiar face at her bedside.
"Doc?"
A smile spread across the dark face, and he nodded, his eyes looking down on her. He was leaning over her bed slightly, arms rested on a raised railing.
"Hi, Faith," he greeted her, and took a breath. "How are you feeling?"
She took a moment, letting her mind come to terms with how her body was feeling, and what parts of it she could move comfortably, and what parts ached. "Like I got shot."
He smiled again, nodding once more. "I just thought I'd drop by and see you whilst I was here."
Faith looked up at him, and although she was surprised her husband wasn't here by her side, let alone her children, she found herself longing for the company of another.
"Where's Bosco?"
Doc let his eyes wander for a moment, before tilting his head ever so slightly, eyes narrowing, as he said, "We're not too sure."
Faith sat up instantly, with as much ease and causing herself as little discomfort as possible, which wasn't a simple task. She winced, and avoided moving her left arm pretty much altogether. "What do you mean?"
Doc held out a hand to stop her hurting herself, and continued, "He came in to see you about an hour ago, and then took off. We haven't been able to find him, Faith. Needless to say, his behaviour has us all a little worried."
"Tell me about it. I've been putting up with it for a long time. I know how it feels," she said, her voice suddenly hoarse.
Doc handed her a cup of water, which she took and sipped through a straw steadily, pacing herself despite her thirst.
"You have to find him."
"You're not kidding," Doc agreed, standing up straight and pocketing his hands pensively. "Sully thinks he's gone to find that Wayne Thomson guy... the one who shot you."
Faith let her head hang for a minute, and closed her eyes as she spoke, "Dammit, Bos', why do you do this to me?"
"Do you have any ideas on where he'd look?" Doc inquired gently.
Faith met his gaze, and felt her thoughts rushing about madly in her head for a moment until a couple of ideas came upon her. "He'll talk to other street gangs, see what he can dig up. Did they try his radio?"
"Three times now, and each time he hasn't replied."
Faith felt something inside her tug heavily, and her heart sank a little. Why did he feel the need to do this sort of thing? He was only going to get himself seriously hurt or killed, and Faith didn't want that, no matter how important revenge was to her partner. She wasn't ready to see him get into a mess he couldn't get back out of again... because of her.
She remembered the seconds before feeling the bullet hit her, and how everything had seemed to stand still for a fraction of a moment as that trigger had been squeezed. She had wanted to see her children's faces, hear her husband tell her he loved her... god only knew if he really meant it at all any more, the way he acted. She hadn't been ready to go, and obviously someone had been listening to her, otherwise she wouldn't have woken up on this hospital bed, which wasn't anywhere near as comfortable as she had thought it would be.
"Do you think you can get me a radio in here? I might be able to get in contact with him, get through to him maybe."
Doc seemed to brighten at the idea, and he nodded vehemently. "I'll see what I can do."
"Okay, thanks," Faith called after him quietly as he left in a hurry, and sipped her water again, wishing for something more substantial.
She hoped Bosco was okay.
* * *
Bosco stalked the streets swiftly and with intent, his eyes scanning down every shady alley, and studying the faces of anyone who looked remotely like Wayne Thomson. His body felt literally exhausted, and his head pounded, but he ignored both, adrenaline pumping, anger coursing through him like a drug.
Nothing was going to get in his way until he had caught up with Wayne and given him what he deserved... of course, giving the guy what he deserved would end up with Bosco losing his job.
Right now he didn't care. All he cared about was making him regret what he had done. No one got away with hurting one of Bosco's friends, never... least of all Faith. She was so much more to him than a friend. She was pretty much all he had right now, the only constant that kept him going every day, and he didn't know what he would do if he ever lost that. He wanted to ensure it never would happen.
Turning a corner, he recognised a group of adolescents, and strode up to them, calling out to one by name, seeing the youth turn and grimace at the sight of the cop.
"Whadda you want now, man, I didn't do nothin'."
"I don't care what you did," Bosco snapped, coming to stand literally inches away, seeing out of the corner of his eye that the others who had been with the youth backed away a little. "I want to know if you've seen a guy called Wayne Thomson. You get around... I figured you might have heard of him."
Bosco often ran into this young guy, who went by the unoriginal name of Spike. It made Bosco cringe whenever he had to say it, which he tried to avoid doing as often as possible.
"I don't know no Wayne, man, why are you always in my face?"
"Hey, my partner got shot today, and this Wayne guy needs to be taught a lesson, you understand? Now, have you seen him, or not? It's a simple question," Bosco asked, every word dripping venom.
Spike frowned considerably, and shook his head. "I ain't seen him. I ain't seen him in weeks. He lost it... starting freakin' out. We don't want nothin' to do with him no more."
Bosco nodded slowly. "See, now was that so hard? If you see him, let me know, okay?"
"Right," the kid agreed reluctantly, turning back to his companions and shuffling off.
"I mean it," Bosco mumbled after him, and whirled to go in the other direction, grumbling to himself.
As he walked, he tried telling himself several times that he should just do the sensible thing and head back to the hospital and check up on Faith, see how she was doing. But then, when had he ever been sensible?
With a sigh, he rounded another street corner, and came to a slow halt, narrowing his eyes to see if his mind was playing tricks on him.
Over the road, and walking away from him, was a tall guy in a dark jacket, a baseball cap atop his head. He walked shiftily, every step faster than the last one, and he scanned the streets often.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Bosco muttered, and started to jog over the road, careful not to get hit by a car on the late New York street. When he reached the other side, he kept his eyes as best as he could on his target, trying never to look away, unless Wayne turned back to see if he was being followed. Bosco was using all his resolve to keep from bolting down the street and beating him senseless right then and there. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, make a scene.
Slowly, Bosco started to close the distance between himself and Wayne, feeling his movements quicken as he neared the taller man. He was tempted just to bring out his gun and empty the clip into his back... but that wasn't the sort of guy he really was, he knew he couldn't bring himself to do that. He hoped he never had to.
Wayne made a sharp turn.
Why do they always go down alleys... it's a little bit of a cliché, Bosco thought hurriedly, quickening his pace so as not to lose this guy... again. He had already done that once today, and he wasn't about to do it again.
He let his hand float back to rest on the handle of his gun in its holster as he turned into the alley after Wayne, looking around instantly and with caution. He knew what this guy was capable of, and he knew he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was a bullet in him too, that would be a little counterproductive, despite the resistance his vest would provide.
He drew his gun, feeling a little déjà vu sneak up on him as he paced the alley, peering into every shadowy hidden alcove and doorway, finding that the alley was a lot longer than he had first expected.
Bosco kept his pace slow, listening for any sounds that would give away Wayne's position, and his senses alert, despite his exhaustion.
Where are you? Don't do this to me again, his mind chattered distractingly, and he shook his head a little to clear it. Apart from the noise of the evening New York life behind him walking past the mouth of the alley, it was quiet, and he found that a little disconcerting. He couldn't just have disappeared... could he?
Maybe Bosco hadn't seen him at all... maybe he was so tired his mind was playing damn believable tricks on him.
Just as he was about to peer into a pitch-black corner of a building alcove, his radio sounded rather noisily.
"Bos', are you there? It's me, Faith."
Just as he was about to reach up and reply, something struck him at the base of the skull, plunging him into darkness.
