Well...we've come to the end. I want to thank all of you so very much for the feedback, it did so much for my muse, and I'm just glad you enjoyed it! And now, for the last chapter.
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Part 10:
*
The night, he supposes, must not be above ten degrees, but the sweat still runs in beads down his chest as the weight of the situation hits him with alarming clarity. He wonders if now he might really have to face her dead, lifeless face, and his finger shakes against the trigger.
It's her blood on his hands, he thinks. Even if she lives, her blood is on his hands. Because he couldn't stop this, couldn't prevent it.
"Where. Is. She?" He asks with clenched teeth, carefully and precisely, allowing little room for any answer that doesn't lead him to her.
The man still doesn't respond, so Bosco kicks the knife from his hands, hoists him up with his last free arm, and keeps the gun carefully pointed at the guy's neck.
"Faith!" He shouts repeatedly into the darkness.
He hears her muffled screams and moves to the source, the anxiety building. He finally nears her battered form, tied to a chair. Her face is grimy, marred with dirt and various cuts and bruises. There's a large gash on her head, cuts on her arm he supposes are from the knife, and a bleeding gunshot wound he fears can only signal delayed death. But her face, reassuringly alive, fills him with hope.
"Sssh, you're okay now, Faith, you're okay."
He starts to remove her gag, and hears the sound of running footsteps. He stops, whips around, sees Christopher coming towards him. The Sergeant shoots Lambert from behind with his drawn gun and shoots the tiny overhead bulb, engulfing the room in total darkness.
Christopher's partner breaks free and moves towards Bosco, struggles with him for a moment until two gunshots ring out and the movement stills.
Sullivan's flashlight shines on Bosco, who pushes the dead man off him as he quickly stands up, moving with lightning speed to Faith, whose chest still moves as it should, though shallowly. He turns and sees Lambert drop his smoking gun, the one that shot and killed Christopher in the struggle; Lambert falls to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth.
"They killed her, Bosco. My Sarah. They killed her."
Bosco doesn't speak, but feels a pang of sympathy at the man's loss, and relief at his own triumph.
"Don't forget w-what I said, and don't ever let her go."
And he dies suddenly without another word.
Bosco turns to Faith, shouting to Davis for an ambulance as he pulls out her gag.
"Th-they killed her, Bos. They just shot her. She was begging them --"
He releases her bonds, pulls her to his chest tightly, rocking her gently.
"Ssh, ssh, just try not to think about it right now. You're gonna be all right."
"I'm so tired."
His hands press tightly against her gunshot wound, trying to stop the continuous flow of blood as her eyes start to droop.
"Oh God, stay awake, Faith. Just keep your eyes open, come on. Shit! Look at me."
She does and smiles faintly, leans closer against him, and drifts off dreamlessly.
He feels her warm breath against his skin and it's still a comfort for now. The sound of the sirens reassures him and he moves his hands to reach beneath her, picks her up effortlessly, cradles her preciously against him, protectively, her head tucked beneath his chin.
He whispers to her as he carries her, "I've got you, Faith, I've got you. Just rest now."
*
"What the hell went wrong?" Sullivan asks as they wait anxiously in the hallway of Mercy Hospital.
"I think Lambert was just trying to do the right thing...in the end. He screwed up, he was trying to fix it. He didn't need to take Faith, and God, if something had happened to her, I would've killed him myself."
"I know. We all would've, Faith's part of us."
Bosco's head bowed forward in silence, hands interwoven as he prayed for an outcome that let her stay.
"I would've taken the fall, the way they planted the evidence, but --"
"It's all out there now, Bosco. Christopher's dead, his partner's dead, the Senator's in jail, Lambert's dead --"
"And Gusler and Faith -- Faith's --"
"Gonna be fine."
"Yeah, " he says, wishing he can believe it.
Kim and Alex join Bosco, Sullivan, and Davis, setting their bags down and leaning back against the hard seats of the waiting room.
"It was bad, but I think she's gonna make it."
Bosco's head remains bent forward, but his eyes shut in slight relief.
"She'll be in pain, but --"
"She's alive, " Alex finishes as she rubs a comforting hand across Bosco's back.
"Have you talked to her kids?"
"Yeah, Fred's dropping them off in a few hours, he's not staying, but uh, he said he'll bring them by."
*
Alex watches as Bosco's breath evens out, his sleep troubled and uneasy, but sleep nonetheless. After his visit with Faith, his mind allows him now the ease the reassurance of her recovery provides.
A sound catches her attention as she stands, sees Fred arrive with the kids. With the time she had been spending with Faith lately, she'd had, she felt, the privelege of getting to know Emily and Charlie better. Charlie looks around for familiar faces, spots Alex, and launches himself into her embrace.
"Is Mom okay?"
She nods, rubs a hand over Emily's head, and thanks Fred as he leaves.
"Is Uncle B okay?" Charlie asks, head turned to the sleeping figure of Bosco.
"Yeah, buddy, he's just tired. We'll see him later. How about we go say hi to your mom, she'd love to see you guys."
She leads them to Faith's room, enters quietly into the darkened room. Faith's eyes remain closed, her sleep deep, induced from sedatives.
Alex leans down to the children's ears, whispers, "Just go give her a kiss and let's let her sleep."
They scurry over as quietly as they can, Charlie standing on tip-toe to plant a kiss on her cheek, Emily enfolding her arms gently over her mother in a clumsy hug. She takes her brother's hand and leads him out of the room, smiling at Alex as she does.
Alex moves to Faith, rests her hand over hers.
"You're gonna be okay, Faith. Just get some rest."
She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.
*
Her eyes remain fixed on the cup of hot chocolate in her hands, though it's just as full as it was thirty minutes ago when he brought it to her. Her eyes move in hesitant glances around the room, wanting to focus on him, not knowing how, or even if she should. She wants to say so much, can sense that he has things he wants to say as well, but the silence hangs between them still.
He pulls his chair closer, smiles a brief half-smile, and rubs his hands together, looking down. This is the first day she's been truly alert, the last few days finding her only in brief semi-conscious thought. So it's enough for him just to see her sitting up, knowing she still can.
The air outside remains bitterly cold, his cheeks, even now, still slightly red from the exposure as he walked over here, making sure to order a hot chocolate just the way she always liked it from that diner near their precinct. The name escapes him, he can see the bold lettering of the diner greeting him as he walks through, but suddenly, all thought that doesn't involve her seems immaterial.
She moves to take a sip, finally, though she's sure it can hardly be called "hot chocolate" anymore.
"Careful, " he says, "d-don't burn yourself."
"It's been sitting here in my lap for half an hour, Bos, I don't think it could burn an ice cube at this point."
He smiles in spite of himself.
"Yeah. Well, I can blow on it if ya want, " he replies, smirking.
She slaps his arm playfully, the I.V. line attached to her finger reminding him she's still hurt, still needs to heal. And it hurts him.
She gets serious now, her eyes looking down once more, and asks him cautiously, "Bosco, w-why did you think I was dead?"
He swallows, wonders what to say.
"They uh, killed this hooker -- figured I guess no one'd miss her -- and, uh, God, she looked like you. She looked like you Faith and I --"
His voice breaks, he looks away, blinking against the tears. She reaches a free hand out to him, covers his hand with hers.
Bosco looks back up, smiles, squeezes her hand and doesn't let go.
"Faith, what did they do to you?"
"They were gonna kill me, Bos, they just taunted me, said they had killed you, Davis, Sullivan, anyone you can imagine. They killed Lambert's girlfriend a few hours before you got there, they just -- they just shot her, right there. And Gusler, oh God --"
"It wasn't your fault, Faith."
She nods, lips tightly pursed.
"I kept thinking, Bos -- I kept thinking, if you were dead --"
She pauses, unsure if she should finish.
"If you were dead -- I wouldn't know what to do. I can't imagine what it felt like to think I was dead."
"I didn't think, Faith, I couldn't think. That's how it felt -- I forgot to breathe."
"Bosco --"
He strokes his thumb over her hand, kisses her cheek, silencing her.
"You're tired, Faith, get some sleep. We have all the time in the world."
He takes the cup gently from her hand, tucks her down into her bed.
*
Epilogue:
*
The fact that she returned to him he regards as nothing less than a miracle, but he finds himself not being able to truly appreciate it because of the fact that he had failed her. Failed to save her. Sure, she's alive, he thinks, alive and safe, but he hadn't saved her from it. It had happened, she had been taken from him, and he can't ever erase the memory of it.
It hangs like a black cloud above him, tarnishing his otherwise ecstatic demeanor, his happiness at having her back, having her with him, loving her.
The idea that she had been raped, he thinks, pained him most especially, but the knowledge that it had been a lie provides at least one comfort through all of this. That one act would've simply collapsed the fragile thread of sanity he still holds within.
Her sleep, for once, is dreamless and free of nightmares; her bruises and cuts are beginning to fade. He supposes all things leave their mark in some way. All things we experience -- good or bad -- leave behind a thought or memory, whether joyous in remembrance or painful in passing, and even the deepest scars eventually fade with time. They still remain, but fade -- fade with the passage of days and months and years as new memories come to replace the bad ones and the good ones wash away the tears.
His hand strokes through her hair so softly, runs up and down her skin, across her cheek, savoring her presence.
He leans down, plants a kiss against her forehead.
"Thank you, Faith, for everything."
His hands wrap around her tiny one, casing it protectively between his.
"I've been lost, I think, for the better part of my life."
He kisses her fingers, her hand.
"But then you came, you found me. We found each other."
Lips brush against her cheek.
"You saved me."
He runs a hand up and down her arm.
"And I'm never gonna lose you again. I promise."
He leans forward now, brushes hesitantly against her lips.
"I love you, baby."
He wonders if he should've said it, but she doesn't stir, so he leaves the conviction hang between them, thinking maybe one day, soon, he'll say it again when she can perhaps smile back.
Dropping her hand carefully, he tucks the blanket around her tightly, brushes back a stray strand of hair, and leans comfortably against his seat as he flicks off the light.
"I'll see you in the morning."
And he does.
*
[ end ]
----------
Part 10:
*
The night, he supposes, must not be above ten degrees, but the sweat still runs in beads down his chest as the weight of the situation hits him with alarming clarity. He wonders if now he might really have to face her dead, lifeless face, and his finger shakes against the trigger.
It's her blood on his hands, he thinks. Even if she lives, her blood is on his hands. Because he couldn't stop this, couldn't prevent it.
"Where. Is. She?" He asks with clenched teeth, carefully and precisely, allowing little room for any answer that doesn't lead him to her.
The man still doesn't respond, so Bosco kicks the knife from his hands, hoists him up with his last free arm, and keeps the gun carefully pointed at the guy's neck.
"Faith!" He shouts repeatedly into the darkness.
He hears her muffled screams and moves to the source, the anxiety building. He finally nears her battered form, tied to a chair. Her face is grimy, marred with dirt and various cuts and bruises. There's a large gash on her head, cuts on her arm he supposes are from the knife, and a bleeding gunshot wound he fears can only signal delayed death. But her face, reassuringly alive, fills him with hope.
"Sssh, you're okay now, Faith, you're okay."
He starts to remove her gag, and hears the sound of running footsteps. He stops, whips around, sees Christopher coming towards him. The Sergeant shoots Lambert from behind with his drawn gun and shoots the tiny overhead bulb, engulfing the room in total darkness.
Christopher's partner breaks free and moves towards Bosco, struggles with him for a moment until two gunshots ring out and the movement stills.
Sullivan's flashlight shines on Bosco, who pushes the dead man off him as he quickly stands up, moving with lightning speed to Faith, whose chest still moves as it should, though shallowly. He turns and sees Lambert drop his smoking gun, the one that shot and killed Christopher in the struggle; Lambert falls to his knees, blood dripping from his mouth.
"They killed her, Bosco. My Sarah. They killed her."
Bosco doesn't speak, but feels a pang of sympathy at the man's loss, and relief at his own triumph.
"Don't forget w-what I said, and don't ever let her go."
And he dies suddenly without another word.
Bosco turns to Faith, shouting to Davis for an ambulance as he pulls out her gag.
"Th-they killed her, Bos. They just shot her. She was begging them --"
He releases her bonds, pulls her to his chest tightly, rocking her gently.
"Ssh, ssh, just try not to think about it right now. You're gonna be all right."
"I'm so tired."
His hands press tightly against her gunshot wound, trying to stop the continuous flow of blood as her eyes start to droop.
"Oh God, stay awake, Faith. Just keep your eyes open, come on. Shit! Look at me."
She does and smiles faintly, leans closer against him, and drifts off dreamlessly.
He feels her warm breath against his skin and it's still a comfort for now. The sound of the sirens reassures him and he moves his hands to reach beneath her, picks her up effortlessly, cradles her preciously against him, protectively, her head tucked beneath his chin.
He whispers to her as he carries her, "I've got you, Faith, I've got you. Just rest now."
*
"What the hell went wrong?" Sullivan asks as they wait anxiously in the hallway of Mercy Hospital.
"I think Lambert was just trying to do the right thing...in the end. He screwed up, he was trying to fix it. He didn't need to take Faith, and God, if something had happened to her, I would've killed him myself."
"I know. We all would've, Faith's part of us."
Bosco's head bowed forward in silence, hands interwoven as he prayed for an outcome that let her stay.
"I would've taken the fall, the way they planted the evidence, but --"
"It's all out there now, Bosco. Christopher's dead, his partner's dead, the Senator's in jail, Lambert's dead --"
"And Gusler and Faith -- Faith's --"
"Gonna be fine."
"Yeah, " he says, wishing he can believe it.
Kim and Alex join Bosco, Sullivan, and Davis, setting their bags down and leaning back against the hard seats of the waiting room.
"It was bad, but I think she's gonna make it."
Bosco's head remains bent forward, but his eyes shut in slight relief.
"She'll be in pain, but --"
"She's alive, " Alex finishes as she rubs a comforting hand across Bosco's back.
"Have you talked to her kids?"
"Yeah, Fred's dropping them off in a few hours, he's not staying, but uh, he said he'll bring them by."
*
Alex watches as Bosco's breath evens out, his sleep troubled and uneasy, but sleep nonetheless. After his visit with Faith, his mind allows him now the ease the reassurance of her recovery provides.
A sound catches her attention as she stands, sees Fred arrive with the kids. With the time she had been spending with Faith lately, she'd had, she felt, the privelege of getting to know Emily and Charlie better. Charlie looks around for familiar faces, spots Alex, and launches himself into her embrace.
"Is Mom okay?"
She nods, rubs a hand over Emily's head, and thanks Fred as he leaves.
"Is Uncle B okay?" Charlie asks, head turned to the sleeping figure of Bosco.
"Yeah, buddy, he's just tired. We'll see him later. How about we go say hi to your mom, she'd love to see you guys."
She leads them to Faith's room, enters quietly into the darkened room. Faith's eyes remain closed, her sleep deep, induced from sedatives.
Alex leans down to the children's ears, whispers, "Just go give her a kiss and let's let her sleep."
They scurry over as quietly as they can, Charlie standing on tip-toe to plant a kiss on her cheek, Emily enfolding her arms gently over her mother in a clumsy hug. She takes her brother's hand and leads him out of the room, smiling at Alex as she does.
Alex moves to Faith, rests her hand over hers.
"You're gonna be okay, Faith. Just get some rest."
She leaves, closing the door quietly behind her.
*
Her eyes remain fixed on the cup of hot chocolate in her hands, though it's just as full as it was thirty minutes ago when he brought it to her. Her eyes move in hesitant glances around the room, wanting to focus on him, not knowing how, or even if she should. She wants to say so much, can sense that he has things he wants to say as well, but the silence hangs between them still.
He pulls his chair closer, smiles a brief half-smile, and rubs his hands together, looking down. This is the first day she's been truly alert, the last few days finding her only in brief semi-conscious thought. So it's enough for him just to see her sitting up, knowing she still can.
The air outside remains bitterly cold, his cheeks, even now, still slightly red from the exposure as he walked over here, making sure to order a hot chocolate just the way she always liked it from that diner near their precinct. The name escapes him, he can see the bold lettering of the diner greeting him as he walks through, but suddenly, all thought that doesn't involve her seems immaterial.
She moves to take a sip, finally, though she's sure it can hardly be called "hot chocolate" anymore.
"Careful, " he says, "d-don't burn yourself."
"It's been sitting here in my lap for half an hour, Bos, I don't think it could burn an ice cube at this point."
He smiles in spite of himself.
"Yeah. Well, I can blow on it if ya want, " he replies, smirking.
She slaps his arm playfully, the I.V. line attached to her finger reminding him she's still hurt, still needs to heal. And it hurts him.
She gets serious now, her eyes looking down once more, and asks him cautiously, "Bosco, w-why did you think I was dead?"
He swallows, wonders what to say.
"They uh, killed this hooker -- figured I guess no one'd miss her -- and, uh, God, she looked like you. She looked like you Faith and I --"
His voice breaks, he looks away, blinking against the tears. She reaches a free hand out to him, covers his hand with hers.
Bosco looks back up, smiles, squeezes her hand and doesn't let go.
"Faith, what did they do to you?"
"They were gonna kill me, Bos, they just taunted me, said they had killed you, Davis, Sullivan, anyone you can imagine. They killed Lambert's girlfriend a few hours before you got there, they just -- they just shot her, right there. And Gusler, oh God --"
"It wasn't your fault, Faith."
She nods, lips tightly pursed.
"I kept thinking, Bos -- I kept thinking, if you were dead --"
She pauses, unsure if she should finish.
"If you were dead -- I wouldn't know what to do. I can't imagine what it felt like to think I was dead."
"I didn't think, Faith, I couldn't think. That's how it felt -- I forgot to breathe."
"Bosco --"
He strokes his thumb over her hand, kisses her cheek, silencing her.
"You're tired, Faith, get some sleep. We have all the time in the world."
He takes the cup gently from her hand, tucks her down into her bed.
*
Epilogue:
*
The fact that she returned to him he regards as nothing less than a miracle, but he finds himself not being able to truly appreciate it because of the fact that he had failed her. Failed to save her. Sure, she's alive, he thinks, alive and safe, but he hadn't saved her from it. It had happened, she had been taken from him, and he can't ever erase the memory of it.
It hangs like a black cloud above him, tarnishing his otherwise ecstatic demeanor, his happiness at having her back, having her with him, loving her.
The idea that she had been raped, he thinks, pained him most especially, but the knowledge that it had been a lie provides at least one comfort through all of this. That one act would've simply collapsed the fragile thread of sanity he still holds within.
Her sleep, for once, is dreamless and free of nightmares; her bruises and cuts are beginning to fade. He supposes all things leave their mark in some way. All things we experience -- good or bad -- leave behind a thought or memory, whether joyous in remembrance or painful in passing, and even the deepest scars eventually fade with time. They still remain, but fade -- fade with the passage of days and months and years as new memories come to replace the bad ones and the good ones wash away the tears.
His hand strokes through her hair so softly, runs up and down her skin, across her cheek, savoring her presence.
He leans down, plants a kiss against her forehead.
"Thank you, Faith, for everything."
His hands wrap around her tiny one, casing it protectively between his.
"I've been lost, I think, for the better part of my life."
He kisses her fingers, her hand.
"But then you came, you found me. We found each other."
Lips brush against her cheek.
"You saved me."
He runs a hand up and down her arm.
"And I'm never gonna lose you again. I promise."
He leans forward now, brushes hesitantly against her lips.
"I love you, baby."
He wonders if he should've said it, but she doesn't stir, so he leaves the conviction hang between them, thinking maybe one day, soon, he'll say it again when she can perhaps smile back.
Dropping her hand carefully, he tucks the blanket around her tightly, brushes back a stray strand of hair, and leans comfortably against his seat as he flicks off the light.
"I'll see you in the morning."
And he does.
*
[ end ]