It was nearly a week after the incident. I hadn't spoken to Faith. I did expect her to call, like she usually did when we were in fights, but maybe she didn't care anymore. I didn't have time to deal with her now anyway. I didn't care what she said about me or Cruz anymore. Something in the back of her mind told me she was just trying to help me and perhaps she's right this time, but I ignored it. I was a complete wreck and hell, I knew it. I didn't want to think about anything. I had stayed in 'hell', or in better words, the hospital for a few days. I had a few minor blackouts but nothing really serious. They were getting to be less current as the days moved on, and the bump on the top of my head eventually swelled down.

Cruz was doing alright though she would be in the hospital for sometime longer for another week. I visited her every other day when I got a chance, to see how she was doing and all. I remembered about the conversation I had with her after she was shot. In that small room, she was out of it, delirious from the fever, due to the amount of blood that she had lost. We must have been in there for at least seven hours or so. I went to ask about it but I shrugged it off. She never brought it up again. I wasn't too much sure if she had made sense about the thing for me in her drawer but I decided to check it out anyway. What did I have to lose?

Unlocking the door with the key, I was given, to her apartment; it looked abandoned as I observed the area. The aroma of the sweet sent of floral hit me as I walked a few feet in closing the door behind me. Her place was bigger then mine, yet it had a cozy sense to it. Candles were scattered on some tables and ever here and there, and I had to admit, it looked quite fancy. Walking though the apartment I headed to her bedroom where her drawer was. Tossing my jacket on the side I took a deep breath, I had no clue what I was about to see. I had a feeling, I didn't want to. I looked in the mirror and took a good look at myself, and what I had become. I realized I hadn't evolved much from where I had first joined the NYPD. I was still the same old Bosco, the one guy who never makes the right decisions, the one who's always in the way, and the pesky fly that never goes away. The same Bosco who screws everyone's life up, and destroys the lives of the ones he loves. Hobart was right, I guess. That was me and I guessed that's how I was always going to be, whether I liked it or not, interfering with others lives, Faith for example. But wait, this wasn't about Faith was it? No, this was about Maritza. Snapping out of the small daze I had caught myself in, I took a hold of the top drawer and opened it. I nearly blacked out by what I saw, as I stood there, stunned in complete shock. Was she kidding me?

There it sat, exposed to the world as I stared at it trying to comprehend everything. I picked it up slowly and carefully as the sandy substance moved into the creases of my hand still secured in the clear plastic bag. What the hell was I suppose to get out of this? I asked myself as my eyes locked on it; I found it harder and harder to tear them away. What the hell was Cruz doing with nearly ½ pound of cocaine?! I dropped it back into the drawer after a second and closed it. Holey shit, Bosco. It all seemed so familiar for some reason. Didn't Faith once tell him something, something about drugs and Cruz? I didn't want to believe it then and now there it was, I saw it with my very own eyes, a bag of coke in Cruz's apartment. I had to find out what this meant, I had to talk to Faith, and I needed to know what the hell was going on. Then I remembered what Faith had said to me the last time we met. You'll be sorry Bosco the words hissed in my ears much like they had did that day at the hospital. Perhaps she knew about this who scenario, maybe she knew something about Cruz that I didn't. Do you think Faith knew about the coke? Not only did I want to know 'why?' I wanted to know why she had never told me. I had no idea what this meant, why did Cruz tell me to take it?

I found myself wondering what else was hidden in these drawers. I bit my lip, this is wrong Bosco, you can't just be going though someone's personal stuff, a voice told me and then another but in, Do it, do it Bosco, see what else she has been hiding from you! The other hissed. I have the right to know, I thought as I knelt down to the next drawer. I slowly went though the layer of shirts until I found something, taking it out gently I found a picture. Wow, is that her? I asked myself as I examined the three people in the picture. I had never seen Cruz look so, so, happy, before. I wasn't sure where the picture was but it was somewhere downtown Manhattan during the winter by the judge of there clothing. Maritza and her sister were standing somewhere in front of a small fountain. It was weird, almost like the picture was taken for a specific reason, by a tourist or something. No-one usually takes pictures where they live unless there on vacation or what not. Suddenly I felt a wash over of guilt, like someone was watching me and telling me this was all wrong. I stared at the picture for a few seconds, the two sides of Cruz; I thought as I stood up, closed the drawer and grabbed my coat, slipping the picture in the pocket, I headed out.

I wasn't too sure what I was going to do. Hell, I didn't even know if Cruz was a dealer. I thought I knew her and then just one little thing, which was never brought up, questions everything, my trust for her, my respect. As I sat in my apartment I questioned my relationships between people and realized how much I had never told Cruz along with Faith. I guess everyone has secrets, right?

I needed to talk to someone; I needed to get out of my head for just a little. I knew what had to be done, I knew who I had to go talk to, whether I wanted to or not. As I headed up the steps to Faith's complex apartment I wasn't sure what I was going to say. Reaching the door I knocked lightly. A few seconds later I heard her voice, "Hold on!" I looked down the empty hall uncomfortably as the door cracked open.

"Bosco?" She questioned opening the door fully facing me. I observed her for a second. She looked horrible. She crossed her arms across her almost self consciously. The confused look on my face must have been pretty clear as Faith's gaze fell to the ground. My guess, she hadn't slept in days, was suffering from a cold, and had fallen off a ten story building.

"What happened to you?" I asked her quickly. She looked up quickly to me, her eyes were glossy, they looked almost as if there were holding a stream of tears back from her porcelain cheeks.

"Nothing, nothing, I'm just tired." She replied to me standing in the door way. My eyes went over her shoulder; no-one seemed to be home.

"Can we talk?" I hesitated looking back to her with pleading eyes. "Please, Faith."

She shook her head. "Bosco," She started.

"Please, Faith, I really need to talk to someone." I cut her off before she got a chance to turn me down.

Faith looked away and then to me quickly, almost as if she was thinking about something to shot back at me, "Cruz." She said simply.

"What?" I looked at her baffled.

"Go talk to her." She muttered, her face turning sour just saying her name. Cruz.

Was she THAT bad? I didn't get it, at all, what so ever. It flew high over my head.

"Faith, I need to talk to you!" I said getting more aggravated by the minute. She knew how hard it was for me to open up, and here I was, actually begging her for a chance. She refused.

"I'm busy. You need to figure this out by yourself Bosco, you don't need me, remember?" She was right. I had told her that I didn't need her anymore. I remembered the hurtful look on her face that day when I told her I was a big boy and she needed to stay out of my business. It was something, something when I started in Anti-Crime, after the stupid fight we had. I couldn't even remember what the fight had been about. All I did remember was the pain I had caused her. Who was I fooling? This all was my fault. Everything is Bosco.

"But, Faith," I pleaded as my face met the door. "Damn it!" I hissed lightly under my breath as I banged my fist once on the door with a deep sigh. "Please, give me one more chance, Faith, please." I whispered. I knew well enough she was behind that door listening to every breath I made. Once I heard light footsteps I knew she was gone.

I seem to ruin all the good things in my life, whether its one thing or another, it never seems to work out the way I want it to, no matter how hard I try. I decided not to confront Maritza, I feared what may happen. She was truly capable of making my life a living hell and if she found out I went though her stuff, I might as well die. I realized how easy my life had been in the past few years. I look back now and see how care free I was; I had no major problems to deal with. I had my best friend Faith and a job I enjoyed. Hell I loved being a cop, it was who I was, truly, and I knew that. Transferring to Anti Crime was possibly the worst road I could have taken. Now I was in deep trouble, whether it was about the drugs I had found in my lovers bedroom or the druggies I would still need to deal with. The guys had gotten away, took off like the night once they heard the sirens. Those damn jag-offs think they can hurt someone I care about and get away with it? Who the hell do they think there messing with?

The next day Cruz was discharged from the hospital. The coke had bothered me for too long, I was on edge, breaking. I needed answers and I needed them now. I didn't care if Maritza was ready to talk, I was, and that's all I cared about. Dragging my worn down self out of bed, from lack of sleep, I made myself a cup of coffee, grabbed my coat, and headed out by noon.

I stood outside her door for a few minutes as I planned though my head what I was about to say. Come on, you're not going to chicken out now, I told myself as I knocked on her door lightly. Taking a deep breath I waited.

No Answer. Not even a scurry of feet was heard though that door. I knocked again. Damn it Cruz. Then it dawned on me that she wasn't home. Where the hell else would she be? I questioned myself waiting there dumbly. After a few minutes passed, I started to get nervous, lost in my train of thoughts. Was she trying to avoid me?  Gnawing on my bottom lip I tried the knob, to my surprise it was unlocked. Opening the door slowly I gasped at what was revealed before me. My eyes that were once angry and impatient had turned widened in horror and revulsion.