A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback, I appreciate it so much. It helps me to write quicker, so keep it coming. Thanks again and enjoy!
Part 2:
*
In brief glances and extended remembrance, their time together falls somewhere between the cold starkness of reality and the stuff of dreams. Maybe because they spent the better part of their lives fighting for something, something that wasn't always certain. And other times, because, he let himself see her and she let him look.
And they met and become whole beyond any normal capacity, as though even the fallible constraints of humanity couldn't sever what they had built.
They had built a foundation of trust and hope, and even love, as he thought of it now; a foundation that, like any other, often saw its share of cracks and fractures. But also, like the pieces of a puzzle, they were able to fix it -- always.
It wouldn't be the same again, because scars never really fade.
But he thinks of her and him and their time together -- how perfect it was, how perfect it can still be.
Her presence lingers around him, like a weary ghost still clinging to its expired existence. Her voice, most of all, calls to him in the pauses he allows himself, beckoning him to save her.
Bosco?
He wants to answer.
But all that seems to escape are broken promises and false illusions and the need to be whole again.
He leans against her locker, wondering what secrets she keeps inside she doesn't let anyone see. His face aches as he leans against the hard metal, shutting his eyes for a brief second before he stands up once more, turning to face the noise he hears.
"Bosco, this is Detective Jack Lambert, Mr. Lambert, this is --"
Bosco cuts Sully off abruptly. "Ronald McDonald. You want fries with that?"
It's harsh and bitter, and Lambert's hand pulls away before it even makes contact with Bosco's.
"I take it you're not happy to see me?"
"She's my partner, I should be the one finding her, not you."
"With all due respect, Officer Boscorelli, I'm a detective, it's my job to investigate these kinds of things. Now, I'd be willing to let you ride with me, and keep you informed -- "
"Swell."
He shuts his half-open locker abruptly and turns to leave.
"I'll be waiting outside."
*
"So how's your head?"
"Don't do that."
"What?" Lambert asks innocently, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning casually on the door as he drives.
"Act like we're best pals and you're lookin' out for me. I don't know you, I don't want to know you. All I care about is you finding Faith."
He puts out his free hand defensively and says, "Fair enough. So how long you been partners?"
"Long enough."
"Long enough to trust her?"
Bosco whips his head around abruptly. "What're you talkin' about?"
"All good partners have to trust each other, I'm just wonderin' -- "
"Yeah, I trust her. Hell yeah. Like no one else. What's it to you?"
"Just gettin' a feel for her is all."
"How's that gonna help us find her?"
"There might be more to this than meets the eye, Boscorelli, and I intend to find out just what it is."
He parks the car and they step out, Bosco eyeing the detective warily as he prepares to re-enter the building he lost her in. It's dark, still, though flashlights and camera flashes illuminate the room in a half-glow. Images assault him as he walks in, unsure of how far in he actually wants to go. Her presence surrounds him, burrows into him.
"Detective, we found this."
Bosco brushes off his misgivings and follows Lambert to the forensic investigator holding up a bullet. Lambert pulls a glove on and holds it between his fingers, examining it in the dim light. He checks the ground around the source, looking intently for something.
"There's blood on this bullet. You guys find any blood in the warehouse?" He asks the guy.
"Yeah, found a few puddles, nothin' too big. We'll put this into evidence and match it against ballistics, figure out what kind of gun we're dealin' with here."
Lambert nods and steps towards Bosco.
"She's been injured, but from the looks of it, she's still alive."
His hand goes to Bosco's shoulder and draws away quickly, circling the floor, searching for clues.
*
"You believe in fate, Bos?"
"You gettin' deep on me here, Yokas?"
"I was just wonderin'. I've been thinkin' about it -- "
"What about it?"
"Like some things -- most things -- happen for a reason."
He smiles at her with that cocky grin she's grown to know as distinctly him.
"Like you gettin' this stud right here for a partner?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Bosco."
He winks at her and turns his attention back to the road, a silence falling again for minutes. Then she speaks briefly, softly, almost unheard, with a seriousness he doesn't understand.
"Yeah, Bos, like havin' you in my life."
*
"So they got any news on her?"
They gather around him, these people, the ones he's grown so used to they seem more like permanent fixtures in his life rather than just colleagues.
He looks to Alex, as her worried gaze begs him for a happy reply. He wants to lie, even to himself, but sips from his beer and speaks the truth.
"Nah, we're jus' waitin' it out. I went with the Detective today -- they found a bullet...and some blood."
This confession requires more alcohol, hoping, as he drinks, it will dull reality for even a few brief hours.
He catches their intakes of breath, their sounds of disbelief, their concern for their fellow friend, family member. Yeah, family, he thinks. He doesn't realize it until now, because he never really knew what a family was. Faith was his family, always, but as he looks at these people around him, wanting Faith to come home just as much as he, he realizes he doesn't have to be the only one depending on her safe return.
The bar seems strange without her presence next to him -- her many faces: happy, sad, blissfully quiet. It seems cruel to him that they would be pulled apart now just as they found each other again.
He finishes the beer and manages a small smile to Kim, whose warm hand eases the pain for a second before he leaves to go home.
*
She comes to him at night most often, though she's only been gone a few days. He doesn't know why, except maybe he hopes the answers will find him in dreams. The air outside remains as bitingly cold as ever, yet he wakes up in a warm sweat, brushing the remnants of the nightmare from his foggy mind, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
You trust your partner?
The question reflects in his mind and he wonders if this guy, Lambert, knows something he's not telling. It worries him.
*
"Who was Yokas ridin' with on Wednesday last week?"
Bosco turns his head to look at Lambert, wondering at the nature of the question.
"You missed your shift last week, right, you had a -- "
"A doctor's appointment."
"Right. So who did she ride with?"
"Gusler."
"Oh yeah. Nice kid."
"Sure."
"You don't like him?"
"I don't know. He's okay, he's just too innocent."
Lambert chuckles. "Funny we reach a point in time when too much innocence is a bad thing. Shouldn't we be glad there's still people out there with decency?"
"Sure. My partner's decent, Sully, Davis, my friends in the FDNY, even me on a good day."
He laughs again.
"Gusler's okay, I just don't like him ridin' with my partner."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. I just don't."
Because I need to know she's safe, he thinks silently, and I'm the only one I trust to do that job.
"So why'd you want to know anyway?"
"No reason."
"Why do you keep askin' these strange questions and then blowin' them off like they're not important?"
"I told ya, I'm just tryin' to get a feel for -- "
"Yeah, yeah, spare me the bullshit. You want a 'feel' for Faith Yokas? She's a cop, a damn good one, a mother, an ex-wife who did her damn best to keep that marriage together; she's kind, she's tough, she's funny, she's loyal, and she's my partner. Anything else?"
Lambert moves to say something, then stops.
"No."
"Good. 'Cause next time you ask some dumb question, I'm gonna tell you to shove it up your ass."
"I like you, Boscorelli."
"Peachy. You want my autograph?"
*
He starts to fall asleep, drifting halfway between dreams and reality, when the shrill ring of the telephone brings him out of that bliss.
Half-asleep, he pulls the receiver to his mouth, fumbling in the dark, and almost instinctively says, 'Faith', before catching himself and muttering a grumpy, "Yeah."
"Boscorelli, it's Lambert. We found your gun."
He sits up straighter now, gripping the phone tightly.
"Where?"
There's a pause on the other line, an almost inaudible intake of breath, until he says quietly, "In a puddle of blood. Yokas's blood."
He drops the phone and shuts his eyes, the only sound a resonating thud as the phone hits the floor.
*
TBC...
Part 2:
*
In brief glances and extended remembrance, their time together falls somewhere between the cold starkness of reality and the stuff of dreams. Maybe because they spent the better part of their lives fighting for something, something that wasn't always certain. And other times, because, he let himself see her and she let him look.
And they met and become whole beyond any normal capacity, as though even the fallible constraints of humanity couldn't sever what they had built.
They had built a foundation of trust and hope, and even love, as he thought of it now; a foundation that, like any other, often saw its share of cracks and fractures. But also, like the pieces of a puzzle, they were able to fix it -- always.
It wouldn't be the same again, because scars never really fade.
But he thinks of her and him and their time together -- how perfect it was, how perfect it can still be.
Her presence lingers around him, like a weary ghost still clinging to its expired existence. Her voice, most of all, calls to him in the pauses he allows himself, beckoning him to save her.
Bosco?
He wants to answer.
But all that seems to escape are broken promises and false illusions and the need to be whole again.
He leans against her locker, wondering what secrets she keeps inside she doesn't let anyone see. His face aches as he leans against the hard metal, shutting his eyes for a brief second before he stands up once more, turning to face the noise he hears.
"Bosco, this is Detective Jack Lambert, Mr. Lambert, this is --"
Bosco cuts Sully off abruptly. "Ronald McDonald. You want fries with that?"
It's harsh and bitter, and Lambert's hand pulls away before it even makes contact with Bosco's.
"I take it you're not happy to see me?"
"She's my partner, I should be the one finding her, not you."
"With all due respect, Officer Boscorelli, I'm a detective, it's my job to investigate these kinds of things. Now, I'd be willing to let you ride with me, and keep you informed -- "
"Swell."
He shuts his half-open locker abruptly and turns to leave.
"I'll be waiting outside."
*
"So how's your head?"
"Don't do that."
"What?" Lambert asks innocently, one hand on the wheel, the other leaning casually on the door as he drives.
"Act like we're best pals and you're lookin' out for me. I don't know you, I don't want to know you. All I care about is you finding Faith."
He puts out his free hand defensively and says, "Fair enough. So how long you been partners?"
"Long enough."
"Long enough to trust her?"
Bosco whips his head around abruptly. "What're you talkin' about?"
"All good partners have to trust each other, I'm just wonderin' -- "
"Yeah, I trust her. Hell yeah. Like no one else. What's it to you?"
"Just gettin' a feel for her is all."
"How's that gonna help us find her?"
"There might be more to this than meets the eye, Boscorelli, and I intend to find out just what it is."
He parks the car and they step out, Bosco eyeing the detective warily as he prepares to re-enter the building he lost her in. It's dark, still, though flashlights and camera flashes illuminate the room in a half-glow. Images assault him as he walks in, unsure of how far in he actually wants to go. Her presence surrounds him, burrows into him.
"Detective, we found this."
Bosco brushes off his misgivings and follows Lambert to the forensic investigator holding up a bullet. Lambert pulls a glove on and holds it between his fingers, examining it in the dim light. He checks the ground around the source, looking intently for something.
"There's blood on this bullet. You guys find any blood in the warehouse?" He asks the guy.
"Yeah, found a few puddles, nothin' too big. We'll put this into evidence and match it against ballistics, figure out what kind of gun we're dealin' with here."
Lambert nods and steps towards Bosco.
"She's been injured, but from the looks of it, she's still alive."
His hand goes to Bosco's shoulder and draws away quickly, circling the floor, searching for clues.
*
"You believe in fate, Bos?"
"You gettin' deep on me here, Yokas?"
"I was just wonderin'. I've been thinkin' about it -- "
"What about it?"
"Like some things -- most things -- happen for a reason."
He smiles at her with that cocky grin she's grown to know as distinctly him.
"Like you gettin' this stud right here for a partner?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Bosco."
He winks at her and turns his attention back to the road, a silence falling again for minutes. Then she speaks briefly, softly, almost unheard, with a seriousness he doesn't understand.
"Yeah, Bos, like havin' you in my life."
*
"So they got any news on her?"
They gather around him, these people, the ones he's grown so used to they seem more like permanent fixtures in his life rather than just colleagues.
He looks to Alex, as her worried gaze begs him for a happy reply. He wants to lie, even to himself, but sips from his beer and speaks the truth.
"Nah, we're jus' waitin' it out. I went with the Detective today -- they found a bullet...and some blood."
This confession requires more alcohol, hoping, as he drinks, it will dull reality for even a few brief hours.
He catches their intakes of breath, their sounds of disbelief, their concern for their fellow friend, family member. Yeah, family, he thinks. He doesn't realize it until now, because he never really knew what a family was. Faith was his family, always, but as he looks at these people around him, wanting Faith to come home just as much as he, he realizes he doesn't have to be the only one depending on her safe return.
The bar seems strange without her presence next to him -- her many faces: happy, sad, blissfully quiet. It seems cruel to him that they would be pulled apart now just as they found each other again.
He finishes the beer and manages a small smile to Kim, whose warm hand eases the pain for a second before he leaves to go home.
*
She comes to him at night most often, though she's only been gone a few days. He doesn't know why, except maybe he hopes the answers will find him in dreams. The air outside remains as bitingly cold as ever, yet he wakes up in a warm sweat, brushing the remnants of the nightmare from his foggy mind, rubbing a hand over his eyes.
You trust your partner?
The question reflects in his mind and he wonders if this guy, Lambert, knows something he's not telling. It worries him.
*
"Who was Yokas ridin' with on Wednesday last week?"
Bosco turns his head to look at Lambert, wondering at the nature of the question.
"You missed your shift last week, right, you had a -- "
"A doctor's appointment."
"Right. So who did she ride with?"
"Gusler."
"Oh yeah. Nice kid."
"Sure."
"You don't like him?"
"I don't know. He's okay, he's just too innocent."
Lambert chuckles. "Funny we reach a point in time when too much innocence is a bad thing. Shouldn't we be glad there's still people out there with decency?"
"Sure. My partner's decent, Sully, Davis, my friends in the FDNY, even me on a good day."
He laughs again.
"Gusler's okay, I just don't like him ridin' with my partner."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. I just don't."
Because I need to know she's safe, he thinks silently, and I'm the only one I trust to do that job.
"So why'd you want to know anyway?"
"No reason."
"Why do you keep askin' these strange questions and then blowin' them off like they're not important?"
"I told ya, I'm just tryin' to get a feel for -- "
"Yeah, yeah, spare me the bullshit. You want a 'feel' for Faith Yokas? She's a cop, a damn good one, a mother, an ex-wife who did her damn best to keep that marriage together; she's kind, she's tough, she's funny, she's loyal, and she's my partner. Anything else?"
Lambert moves to say something, then stops.
"No."
"Good. 'Cause next time you ask some dumb question, I'm gonna tell you to shove it up your ass."
"I like you, Boscorelli."
"Peachy. You want my autograph?"
*
He starts to fall asleep, drifting halfway between dreams and reality, when the shrill ring of the telephone brings him out of that bliss.
Half-asleep, he pulls the receiver to his mouth, fumbling in the dark, and almost instinctively says, 'Faith', before catching himself and muttering a grumpy, "Yeah."
"Boscorelli, it's Lambert. We found your gun."
He sits up straighter now, gripping the phone tightly.
"Where?"
There's a pause on the other line, an almost inaudible intake of breath, until he says quietly, "In a puddle of blood. Yokas's blood."
He drops the phone and shuts his eyes, the only sound a resonating thud as the phone hits the floor.
*
TBC...