"Dammit, Bosco, don't ignore me," Faith grumbled irritably, trying the device again, "Bosco, are you there? Can you hear me?"

Sully and Davis stood beside her bed, the former pensive as ever, the latter looking down at her curiously, eager to get going and do something constructive and stereotypically cop-like.

She shook her head at the thoughts, and pressed the button of Sully's radio again, pleading internally for him to answer.

"Bos', don't be a jerk, and don't ignore me... please answer me. I need to speak to you in the hospital."

She let go of the button, and waited nearly twenty whole seconds before letting her head sink heavily back to the pillow, ignoring the pain in her shoulder from the soft impact. She stared with concern at the far wall, before saying, "Why wouldn't he reply to me?"

"Hey, I thought it would work as much as you did, Yokas," Sully replied, and reached out for his radio. Faith handed it to him, watching him reconnect it to the speaker on his shoulder, and settle it on its belt- clip.

She was angry with herself... annoyed that her plan hadn't worked like she thought it would.

"I hope he's okay," she said quietly, noticing that Davis cocked his head, as though he heard her quiet words.

"Bosco can take care of himself... at least that's the impression I've been getting," Davis commented, glancing around the room as if he were reluctant to make solid eye contact with Faith.

She sighed. "His problem is he doesn't know when to quit. He's so damn stubborn, and it's only going to get him into deep trouble."

Sully groaned. "I know what you mean. And we've got the not-so-easy job of findin' him before he does something amazingly stupid."

Faith frowned, furrowing her brow as she thought chaotically about where her problematic partner could have gone.

Dammit, Bos', why do you always do this to me?

* * *

Bobby had told Kim not to drive after their dramatic experience earlier on in their shift. It had her shaken up quite badly. He supposed it was because she had seen it from a whole other perspective than Bosco and Bobby had, let alone Yokas.

It was near the end of their shift now, and they were just cruising around slowly, both keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of the AWOL cop, Bosco. He had been gone nearly two hours now, and everyone was getting a little worried, considering Sully had just contacted them to tell them that Yokas hadn't been able to get in contact with him via radio.

"You think he'd reply to his partner," Kim said quietly, her head rested in exhaustion against her palm, her elbow on the sill of the window to her side. She had systematically retied her hair every half an hour since the incident earlier, and her behaviour had Bobby a little concerned.

Bobby shrugged loosely. "You know how arrogant Bosco is. He's probably out there on the warpath right now. I doubt he's still got his radio on anymore. Probably turned it off as soon as he left the hospital."

After a few moment of silence, Kim nodded and replied, "You're probably right. I hadn't thought of that."

Bobby allowed himself a half-smile for cheering her slightly. If you could call the deepest frown he had ever seen cheered at all. Not even Mattie had been that depressed when he was in jail, and that was saying something. His brother was sometimes quite a negative person, and Kim was usually so high-spirited.

It was bringing Bobby down too, seeing her like this. He wanted nothing more than to see her smile again, see her happy. He supposed that wouldn't be until they had located Bosco, and he and Yokas were back on duty together. Until then, he realised she would only get a fraction happier every day of Faith's recovery.

"I'm gonna stop and get a coffee," Bobby said quietly, looking to her as he parked, "did you want something?"

She shook her head, gazing out of the side window on her side of the bus.

"You sure? Hot chocolate... vodka... anything?"

She laughed a little, looking to him, and saying, "No thanks, Bobby."

"Alright," he agreed as he jumped down out of the bus, and made his way towards a store next to their parked position. He looked this way and that as he travelled the short distance, searching for any sign of the police officer they were all on the lookout for, but found nothing.

Sighing, he opened the door.

* * *

Carlos wished Doc trusted him enough to drive the bus, especially when they were on a call... like they were now. It had come in about five minutes ago, and they had just finished loading the poor young guy into the back of the bus, a bullet hole in his chest.

"I don't wanna die," gargled the youth lying on the gurney, even as Carlos injected him with something he knew on instinct he needed to administer. He spat the cover for the needle on the floor of the bus, and looked the adolescent in the eye.

"You're not gonna die, you're gonna be okay," Carlos tried to insist, his voice wavering as he realised he was losing the patient.

What had his friends called him? Some stupid name... something tough guys liked to call themselves. Carlos had heard it used before, and thought it ridiculous in all those cases too.

"How's he doing?" Doc called from the driver's seat, turning onto the street leading to Mercy.

Carlos shook his head discreetly so the bloodshot eyes would not see, and called back, "We need to hurry!"

Doc yelled back to the youth, barely turning his head, even as they screeched to a halt in front of the hospital, seeing Dr. Morales appear. "Spike, we just need you to hold on, okay? We're at the hospital, and the doctors are going to take good care of you."

"Okay," the frightened guy said.

Spike... that was it. Carlos remembered now hearing his friends ask him desperately if he was okay.

Carlos opened the back doors, even as Doc appeared to help unload the gurney, Morales at his side, reaching out to aid them.

"What have we got?" she asked as they moved.

"GSW to the chest. Found him lying in the middle of the street. Low blood pressure," Doc reported.

Carlos trailed behind, trying not to get in the way, whilst trying to keep in the action at the same time.

He realised when they got inside that he was only hindering their progress, and as usual, he trailed away, finding his feet walking the short distance to Officer Yokas' room. He glanced inside, still faintly able to hear the shouting of Dr. Morales from the ER.

Sully and Davis were gone now, and she was inside with Kim and Bobby. Seemed she wasn't about to lose company anytime soon.

He opened the door tentatively, stepping inside, and smiling wanly at Yokas. "Hi."

"Hey, Carlos," she greeted him.

'Get Well Soon' cards were sitting on her bedside cabinet, and from the looks of them, they were from her kids. Flowers sat in a vase, and a balloon with 'Get Well, Mommy' hovered near her bed.

Carlos smiled. At least she was getting support from her family.

"What's goin' on?" Bobby asked curiously, obviously realising why Carlos was here in the hospital.

Carlos took a moment to register the words, but when he did he didn't waste time in replying, "We just brought in a kid, no more than eighteen, gunshot wound to the chest. Calls himself Spike or something."

Yokas sat up straight. "Did you say Spike?"

Carlos nodded, noticing by the clock on the wall that his and Doc's shift was over... as was Kim and Bobby's for that matter. The third watch was over for another day.

"Bosco knows a kid called Spike. We often run into him on call," Yokas relayed, her concern playing in her eyes. "How is he?"

Carlos hesitated, before sighing, and shaking his head. "Not good."

Kim glanced back. "Is that your diagnosis or Morales'?"

He shrugged. "Both, I'm guessing. He's in real bad shape."

Bobby stood from his stool, crossing his arms. "What happened to that guy you and Doc brought in earlier?"

"He died on the table, internal bleeding and four broken ribs, one of which had punctured a lung." Carlos moved into the room further, looking up at the brightly coloured balloon, then down into the gaze of Bobby.

"Do you think Wayne shot this kid they brought in?" Kim inquired of Yokas, looking at her momentarily, then at the other paramedics.

"It wouldn't surprise. Maybe Wayne saw Spike talkin' to Bosco and killed him for yappin'," Yokas told them, sinking into her pillows again, looking on the point of passing out right there and then.

"So, apart from you, every call we've had for attacks by this nut-job have... well, died," Carlos ventured hesitantly, wondering inside whether or not to say anything about the subject. He didn't know whether or not the others had noticed.

"Guess what description the woman gave for the guy who knocked down her friend in the park," Kim commented, looking to Carlos.

"You're kidding," Carlos exclaimed. "What are the odds?"

"And I'm betting the little sleezeball had somethin' to do with that poor dead guy in the alley this afternoon too," Yokas offered, sipping at a cup of water.

"You think so?" asked Bobby, not sure whether to reclaim his bedside stool again. He looked down at it twice, before choosing to stay on his feet.

Yokas' next words were a mumble, "It wouldn't surprise me." She sighed heavily, just as the door opened and a figure entered.

It was Doc, looking grave and worn out.

Carlos threw him a look of inquiry, recognising the expression on his veteran partner's face.

"He died?" he asked for clarification, in case he had misread the look.

Doc nodded wordlessly.

"I guess I should count myself lucky, huh?" Yokas said without humour, looking each of them in the eye in turn.

No one spoke a word, just looked to one another.

Carlos felt a little lost. He was the newest member of the group present, and he seemed a little out of place too. The only one of foreign origin. Bobby sometimes sounded like he was from Italy or something, but Carlos wasn't certain, and he wasn't about to inquire in this time of concern and apprehension.

He wasn't even sure why it bothered him, so he sternly told himself to stop thinking about it, and leaned casually against the wall.

He didn't know what else to do.

* * *

Hanging around the fire station after his shift wasn't unusual to Jimmy, and even sitting here with Joey in his arms asleep didn't bother him in the slightest, when normally he would be at home asleep already, and his son would be in bed at the apartment with Kim.

She was at the hospital with Faith, Jimmy knew that, and he didn't mind. He just didn't feel right going home, he felt as though he were needed here for some reason, that going home was wrong.

He knew others felt the same way. Kim and Bobby included.

There was still no sign of Bosco, arrogant hot-headed cop that he was. Jimmy wasn't too keen on him, but he didn't particularly want to see anyone else get hurt. One was more than enough for today.

On more than one occasion, he and Bosco had... what was the word? Disagreed? To put it mildly.

He remembered yearning to smack the guy more than once, and now he felt a little guilty for thinking that, considering he had been missing a little too long for anyone's liking.

Joey stirred in his arms, and Jimmy smiled, holding his son gently, feeling him settle down again. Jimmy softly rested his head against Joey's, and sighed the lightest sigh he could manage without waking his child. Sleep seemed impossible right now, with all that was going on. There was too much going through Jimmy's head to accomplish it, and he knew it was foolish to even try.

Some of the guys had gone out on a minor call for a kitchen fire, and Jimmy had watched them go, debating whether or not to tag along. Considering his shift had ended half an hour ago, he had decided not to, along with the slight factor that he wasn't too keen on leaving his son here without either of his parents.

Kim had trusted him with this responsibility, not long after the sitter had dropped him off at eleven. Kim had gone off to the hospital, promising to be back soon. Jimmy didn't mind, and poor Joey was too shattered to notice. He doubted the kid even knew what was going on anyway. This was perfectly normal for him.

Jimmy stared at the television screen, not really taking anything in, too far away from the remote to do anything about changing the channel, too preoccupied to bother worrying about it.

* * *

His head pounded madly, and his vision took quite a while to clear, before he realised there wasn't anything around him he really recognised anyway. His mind replayed quickly what he last remembered, and he suddenly thought about his radio, which he soon noticed was missing.

He was sat in the corner of a dark and dank room, seemingly absent of windows, and with a door far over the other side of the room that looked ready to collapse in on itself. Connected to the wall next to him was an old broken radiator that threw off no heat whatsoever, and it took him a moment to register that he was cuffed to it by his left hand. His right hand was free, but there wasn't anything left on him anywhere that he could use.

Bosco managed to determine that his backup weapon was gone as well as his regulation gun. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

He didn't have to think too hard or long about it to figure out who must have jumped him either... Wayne Thomson. He must have known Bosco was following him, and laid in wait for him to come into the alley after him.

Congratulations on being predictable, he told himself sarcastically, tugging on the cuff, cursing at the radiator for being the only stable thing in the room. It wasn't budging.

"Dammit," he sighed, and wondered whether Wayne had bothered to relieve him of his key... which he soon determined he had. Why were they never too stupid to bother?

Bosco let his head hit the wall behind him, thinking momentarily afterwards that it hurt a little, and closed his eyes, hearing the muffled noises from the streets outside. Without windows, it was difficult to pick out where he was.

Twisting his wrist in the cuff, he worked out he had been unconscious for near on a whole two hours, and then it came to him... he must be close to where he had been jumped. Who wouldn't notice some dodgy looking creep dragging a cop down the road and not think about calling 911?

His shoulders slumped a little as he realised very few people out this late really cared about the law or what happened to police officers anyway.

He kicked the radiator hard once, shouting loudly in frustration, "Dammit!"