Title: Family Affair

Author: Max Tyler (a.k.a. Max452)

Email: Max_01_09@yahoo.com

Rating: R

Spoilers: "The Price of Nobility", "The Hours After"

Disclaimer: I do not own any Third Watch people or places. I do not get any money off this, it's strictly for enjoyment.

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(Bosco):

Ten-year-old Maurice Boscorelli sat in the darkness of the closet, hurting, wanting to get out, but knowing full well he couldn't. He knew this drill well, having been subjected to it many times over his few years. With his unbroken arm, he touched the lump on his head, wincing at the sharp pain, and the stickiness of blood that coated his fingers. He placed his hand longingly on the cheap wood of the closet door, wanting to throw it open, to let light inside. It was so dark in here...

Bosco awoke with a start, imaging that he could still feel that cheap wood in that closet. His heart was thumping loudly and painfully in his chest, and his T-shirt, damp with his sweat, clung to him like a second skin.

He thought he was over these damn dreams. Obviously he had thought wrong. It must've been the jagoff yesterday that Sasha and he arrested.

It was a domestic case. Domestics always got to him. They all reminded him of his family and his past.

His drunken, abusive father...

His beaten, cowed mother...

His emotionally fragile younger brother...

And Bosco himself.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to ignore the ghosts of memories.

"You worthless little shit, how many times do I have to hit you before you get it through your stupid skull!"

"You're nothin' but trouble Maurice."

"Want to go running to your mama Maurice? You're nothing but a worthless mama's boy."

"Nothin' but trouble."

Bosco opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. His father was right. He was nothing but trouble. In fact, a few weeks ago, he had went and got his partner shot.

Not just his partner, but who also his best, and perhaps his only friend.

Faith was now paralyzed, and it was because of him.

The whole precinct hated him, but he didn't blame them...

He hated himself.

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The next day he sat in the drivers seat of the squad car, exhaustion tugging at his body.

His new partner, Sasha Monroe, glanced over at him, "Rough night?"

"Huh?"

"The circles under your eyes are too dark for you to have gotten any sleep," she hesitated for a moment, then showed a unexpected flash of concern, "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." he said with a lack of conviction.

They were heading towards the apartment of yet another domestic call. Usually, Bosco would be pumped up, heady with the anticipation of a adrenaline rush that came from chasing bad guys.

But these days, he didn't give a damn.

He parked in front of the apartment, "You ready?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Together they went in, Bosco first, Sasha covering him.

They knocked on the door, and was surprised when it was yanked open. Obviously the man had been expecting someone. Bosco heard soft sobbing from a woman inside, and felt a stir of familiar emotions. Anger, sadness, remembrance, frustration that he couldn't do anything to change his situation.

But this wasn't the case now.

He focused on the man who was now holding on to the doorknob with one hand, the other gripping a beer bottle. His eyes were red, and his mouth was open, gaping at the sight of police officers at his front door.

Then his surprise turned to anger.

He slammed the door shut.

Shouting could be heard, "You had to go and call the cops, you stupid bitch!"

Bosco heard the woman's frantic murmured denials, which was followed by a hard flat sound that Bosco remembered all too well.

The hateful sound of flesh hitting flesh. It conjured up memories of his mother, cowering in the corner, her nose broken and bleeding, her eye blackened, her hand up in a fragile attempt to defend herself.

Of he and his younger brother carefully scripting lies to cover their bruises and broken bones.

Of the closet...

Bosco snarled with rage, and he hit the apartment door with his shoulder.

His dark eyes took in the mess of the shabby apartment, of the woman sitting on the floor, blood streaming from her nose, her eyes dazed. She had the faded, nondescript look that beaten women come to have after awhile. He knew it all too well.

Her husband was nowhere in sight.

He cautiously went forward, and Sasha hurried and knelt by the woman. He covered her.

He stood in front of her while Sasha ministered to the woman's injuries.

"Do you have any kids?" Bosco asked suddenly, noticing the smashed toy car on the floor.

The woman managed to nod, "Two boys. Hurry, my husband...he knows that one of them called you."

Bosco nodded to Sasha, "Call for backup, stay with her. I'll look for the kids."

"Bosco, wait for the backup. You can't-"

Bosco didn't listen. He really wasn't in the room, he was back in another apartment, years before. A kid shoved in a closet, his fists clenched as he helplessly listened to his father beat his mother. Knowing that his turn was coming.

Turning a corner, he spied a closet similar to the one his father used to shove him in. Operating on a hunch, he started towards it.

"Bosco!" there was a strained whisper behind him. Sasha.

Just then, the closet door disintegrated with a loud bang. A gunshot.

Bosco felt the bullet whiz by, and heard Sasha cry out and felt her stumble.

No, not again...

He turned, saw her still standing, but blood streaming from her shoulder. Acting instinctively, still turned, he yanked her behind him just before another shot went off.

This time it hit him.

Both of them were wearing vests, of course. But the bullet that hit Sasha was too high in the shoulder, and it hit where the vest didn't cover.

And because Bosco was turned awkwardly, the bullet went through the side, hitting flesh.

Bosco felt the sharp pain, and his legs threatening to turn to rubber. He vaguely saw Sasha step in front of him, and with her good arm, aimed her gun at the direction of the closet.

Please Sasha, be careful. If something happened to you...

But then there was blessed silence.

Bosco realized that he was kneeling on the floor, and blood was soaking his uniform. And that Sasha was on her knees beside him.

"Shit Bosco, lie down, let me get your shirt off."

Bosco managed a grin, "Sasha, I'm not that kind of boy." He was surprised that his voice came out low.

"Shut up and lie down you smart ass, you been shot!" Sasha snarled.

"Ya think?" he asked wryly, trying to be funny, but a wave of pain made him gasp.

Sasha grabbed her radio, "This is 55 David, I need a bus at 128 Harrison. Officer down."

"I don't think it's that bad. And by the way, it's two officers down. You got shot too." Bosco pointed out, and he tried to sit up.

"It's just a shoulder wound, just hit a little muscle. Bullet passed through, unlike yours. So stop moving around!" She finally wrestled his vest off, and pressed his uniform top against the wound.

There was footsteps at the doorway, and Sully and Ty, apparently their backup, appeared, their mouths gaping a little at the condition of the people in the room. The beaten woman, two wounded cops, and one dead bad guy.

Bosco suddenly remembered the kids, "Hey, there's two little kids in here somewhere."

He tried to get up again, and was stopped once more by Sasha, joined by a chorus of protest from Sully and Ty.

"I'll go find 'em Bosco." Ty said, and hurried to comply.

Bosco stared at the ceiling, his head spinning. He was starting to feel a little drowsy... his eyelids fluttered.

"Bosco, don't go to sleep." that was Sully, his voice was sharp and there was a undercurrent of worry in it.

Bosco opened one eye, "Why Sully, are you concerned for my well-being? I never would have guessed. I'm touched."

There was a restrained snicker from Sasha.

"How's the arm?" Bosco asked.

"Stings a little."

"Ah come on, I've been shot in the shoulder. It hurts."

"Well that's the difference between you and me. You're a baby."

Bosco nodded, and his eyes closed again.

"Bosco!" This time it was both Sully and Sasha that yelled.

"Shit, can't a guy rest his eyes?" Bosco asked, glaring up at them.

"No."

There was footsteps in the room, and Bosco heard Ty ask how he was doing.

"I'm fine. You find the kids?"

"Right here."

Bosco craned his head up, and saw Ty standing by the woman, and two boys, probably about nine and seven, clinging to her. Both of the kids sported various bruises and scrapes. Old and fresh.

"Are they okay?"

"Aside from some bruises and cuts, yeah I think so," Ty looked at Bosco, "What's wrong?"

"Nothin', why?"

"You look pissed."

"I am pissed. Some stupid bastard just beat up his wife and kids, and shot my partner and me."

"Yeah, but that's nothing new. Well, maybe the shooting part, but we do see this stuff all the time. What makes it different now?"

Because all of shit is coming too fast. Faith's cancer, Glen Hobart, Faith getting shot, Taylor dying...all of it within the span of one year. It's all catching up to me and I can't handle it.

But he didn't say that.

He didn't say anything.