Chapter Twenty-
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A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me so long to write this, guys... I had a bit of writer's block and couldn't find the words. Thank you all for continuing to support me and my work, and I'm glad that you like my stories so much! Here it is, enjoy!
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Bosco raked his hand slowly through his hair, relishing the tingly feeling of his fingers as they glided along his scalp. It was strange, but lately he'd been so much more attentive to the small pleasures in life, as if he knew intuitively that his end was near.
The last few days and nights had melded into one long stretch of inconsolable worrying and dread. He rarely slept at all any more; each night had become a long, drawn out span of time in which the shadows on the walls danced a terrifying dance of fear, silently threatening to unleash the designer of the current web of horror.
Faith, beside him, felt uneasy. Ever since she had awoken she'd known unconsciously that something was wrong. That something niggled at the back of her head, a strange agitation that aroused curious doubts. At first, she had been sure that overnight something had happened to her partner, but he'd shown up for work that afternoon as usual - on time no less. Her relief had been acute, though brief. She'd admonished herself for nearly panicking over nothing, and had pushed the thoughts away, trying to appear as if everything was back to 'life-as-usual'. Well, as usual as it could be in this situation.
Everything about life had changed. Even now, Faith couldn't keep her eyes from moving, roaming, searching. He was out there. He. The man with no face, no name, no personality. He, the dark. The blood. The pain. He could be anyone. The cashier at the coffee shop. The businessman in the tailored black suit. The young guy walking the Labrador down the frozen sidewalk. Lately, every man had become suspect to her eyes, each one receiving a long look and a wondering thought. Who are you? Who is this He? He had managed to consume most of her thoughts and all of her nightmares.
Bosco watched his partner closely. His eyes, no longer playful blue, had dulled to a cloudy gray; haunting, lifeless, and lonely. The silence of the RMP was too alike to the silence of his long, frightening nights and empty apartment, and Bosco hastened to fill it. Idle chatter or not, it was breaking the eerie quiet that drove his words.
"It's been a while since the last one," Bosco commented wanly, drawing Faith's gaze. His own eyes searched the crowded streets for answers. "Maybe he hits again today."
The raw harshness of his blunt statement was too true to ignore, and Faith sent up an umpteenth prayer for a safe shift. The bad feeling in the pit of her stomach was really starting to grow stronger, terrifying her. Something horrible was going to happen, she was sure of it. She could feel it, sense it, almost taste it - a premonition of a terrible tragedy. But, there was no reason to tell Bosco about it, he would just be pulled down into the tangled snare of fear with her.
"You think he's out there getting someone?" Bosco asked his partner, "I mean, what if he's doin' it right now? We're just sitting here... we should doin' somethin'"
Faith felt her chest tighten and anxious worry set in yet again. "There's nothing we can do, really."
"It's just... I wish we could do somtin' instead of just sitting here wasting time. He's' out there, that son-of-a-bitch, right now. He's out there and he's watching, waitin' for one of us to be alone so he can off us."
"Bosco, please," Faith shook her head and pursed her lips, displeased with the topic of conversation. She really didn't want to think about any of it right now.
"Please what, Faith?" Bosco nearly spat, his tone increasing from contemplative to annoyed. "Please don't talk about what we've avoided for the last however long? Is that what you want? To keep pretending nothin's goin' on?"
Bosco slumped further down into his seat, crossing his arms angrily, confused and upset. He needed to talk. There was one thing that he wanted to ask her, but the subject was too difficult to approach.
Death. What if he was next? What if tomorrow he was dead? What would happen if he died? If she died? The mere thought of his partner's early demise made him feel ill.
He didn't want to die... but if Faith died, well, he wouldn't know how to live anymore. She was his rock, his solid foundation, his best friend. Yeah, sure, they got in fights and had been spitting mad at each other on more then one occasion, but they still stuck together. She had been a huge part his life for the last eight years. How could he ever even think of losing her?
In that moment, that one small second in time, he made a decision. Something he had been too afraid to think about before that very instant:
If it came down to either Faith or him dying, he would gladly sacrifice himself for her life.
He was petrified of dying, that was the last thing he wanted, but he could never live with himself if Faith was killed. Even if the whole situation was out of his control, even if he was nowhere around when she died, he would still take it personally, as if it was his fault. That was just how it was.
Bosco frowned. He still had unanswered questions and he needed to talk. Maybe this was the last time he'd ever speak to her. The phrase "Carpe Diem" echoed through his head, prompting him to "Seize the Day". Perhaps his last chance; he didn't know. All he knew was the anger that consumed him in that moment; the anger that was hot and confused, burning with unanswered questions.
Faith could sense his fear underlying the exasperation in his words and she glared him in the eye, daring him to go on with what she thought he wanted to say. He just needed to vent.
"Faith, what if I'm next?" he continued angrily, "What if I die? Should we talk about it then?"
There, he'd said it. He felt a rush of relief at finally being able to spit out his greatest fear, but it was only momentary. The look on Faith's face brought back everything that had torn him apart.
She was stunned, not because of what he'd said, but because he had said it. The horrific reality of their plight seemed to fill the RMP, surrounding them with an intense sense of dismay.
Faith couldn't answer him, she just couldn't. His simple question had aroused more feeling and emotion then she'd ever felt at one time. His words were biting, eating away at her. She felt sick. Bosco had never talked about death before, she had assumed that he thought of himself invincible, or at least too macho to admit his fears.
Faith looked from her downward gaze to find him staring intently at her, his big, beautiful eyes burning a hole right into her. They swam, cloudy and gray-blue, a window into his soul.
Seconds, maybe minutes passed and neither one of them spoke. Faith, mesmerized by his insecurities and the raw emotion that she saw in his eyes, and Bosco needing for her to comfort him, to help him win his battle over the fear that raged inside him.
"Faith?" Bosco finally spoke, never breaking eye contact. His voice was slightly above a whisper, pleading with her to find him something to hang his hope on. "Oh, God, Faith, I'm scared half to death."
Faith could see him, strained and stressed, exhausted and defeated; the same Bosco she knew and loved, but no longer with his self-constructed, hard exterior for him to hide behind. He had dropped it entirely, exposing every unseen side of himself to her mercy. He looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Faith hesitated to speak, seeing his vulnerability and not wanting to break him with the wrong words. Her own mental heath teetered as her emotions whirled inside her furiously. She wanted to cry and curl up in a corner away from it all, but most of all she wanted to comfort her partner.
"Bosco, it's okay... it's okay to be afraid," she managed to get out, her heart pulsing with emotion.
Bosco shook his head. Not because he didn't trust her, he just didn't believe her. It wasn't okay. He wasn't just scared, he was drowning in fear. It was filling him to the breaking point, a heavy, crushing force of hysteria. It was wrong.
"What if I die?" he asked, sucking in his breath sharply, suprised at his own words. "I don't want to die... I don't want to die like Marty. I don't want to die without any warning. I don't want to die, Faith..."
Faith sat silently, stunned and heartbroken, on the verge of tears.
"Faith?" he whispered again, pleading with her. She could almost see his heart sinking at her silence. He needed answers she couldn't give. He needed reassurance that wasn't available.
"Bos, I don't know.... I don't know what to say. I can't say..." she stopped herself, trailing off the remainder of the sentence, choosing not to finish it with "you won't die". He didn't need to hear that.
I can't say you wont die?! her mind screamed back at her, shocking herself. The words that she had just about spoken were, by far, the most sickeningly horrific words she'd ever even thought. When had their lives come to this? When had she become so numb?
Please, his eyes begged again, searching for something to give him hope, anything.
Faith shut her eyes, slowly collecting her frenzied thoughts. A long moment later she opened them, knowing full well what she was going to say - what she could say. "Bosco, no matter what happens, you know I'm always here for you. I'll always be here."
He nodded, ducking his head like a little boy. What if she died? How did she feel about the matter...? Here he was, drawing every ounce of her reassurance without even thinking of how she might be feeling. He was thoroughly ashamed of his inconsideration towards her.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes.
"For what?" Faith was confused. What was he sorry for? She was sorry. Sorry that they even had to have this conversation. It wasn't natural.
Bosco drew a shaky breath, inhaling the oxygen as if it were his last. "I'm sorry, Faith. I was only thinkin' of my own self. I still am... I don't know what I would do if..." He paused, dreading the words he had to say. "If you died. What would I do? God, what would I do?"
Faith let out a soft sob; she didn't know that she meant so much to him. "Oh, Bos..." She grasped his hand up tightly in hers and he squeezed back. "Everything will be okay..." she assured, lying not only to comfort her partner, but herself as well.
"Faith? I want you to know that if something happens to me... you're my best friend. I always loved workin' with you, no matter what an ass I've been... I just wanted you ta know that."
"Okay," she nodded, the impending tears and the sobs catching in her throat not letting her speak anymore.
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Matt tugged on his tie, loosening it considerably away from his collar. "You know what I was thinking last night?"
Sam shook his head, "No, enlighten me."
"Maybe we are going about this investigation the wrong way."
"Oh, really?" Sam replied sarcastically. "Well, by all means, give us another angle! Because the way we are going now we're two steps short of an investigational suicide."
Matt shot him a look, annoyed at his sarcastic remark. The amount of time and effort they had put into this case was astronomical, and he didn't feel like making cracks at the fact that it had all been for nothing.
He sighed and raked his fingers through his thick hair, pulling back his thoughts as he started again, "See, I was thinking last night. We've been looking for the killer by the mistakes he's made. I was just thinking maybe we should get inside his head a bit, do a little role-playing... you know what I mean?"
Sam studied his partner, watching his dark, intense eyes. His young friend was so insightful and passionate about this case that it was scary. Unfortunately, their adversary's mind was of equal or grater caliber, hindering any forward motions in the case. Everything always turned up as a dead end.
"Yeah," Sam sighed, "maybe we could do a little role-playing, but where would that get us?"
"I don't know, I just have a hunch," Matt stated blankly. His mind whirled with thoughts, all jumbled up and confused, but he knew they would all come together. The pieces of these fragmented clues just needed the right base. The right piece of evidence could make or break this case and he was on a mission to find it. "Tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna sit here and review all of what we have and I'm not moving until I find what we've been looking for. I know it's here... I just need to find it..." he trailed off, moving towards the stack of folders on the desk before him.
Sam smiled slightly, amused and proud of his partner's zeal and fervor. They would do this. They would crack this case if it was the last thing he did... "Sounds like a plan, Matt," he said, grabbing the top folder. "Count me in."
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Sully sat to the right of the cold hospital bed, watching his partner's chest rise and fall with each breath. He didn't know why he was still here; the doctors had said that it could be days before he regained consciousness. "Go home," they had said, shaking their heads his insistence, as if his staying would be in vain. Perhaps it was the guilt that drove him to stay, camped by Ty's bedside in sort of a culpable trance, waiting. The hours had crawled by, each second taking a small eternity to tick by.
Sully had long since given up on sleep; his dreams had quickly spawned into nightmares and taken away all desire to succumb to slumber. Sleep not only felt wrong somehow, but even if he did nod off, he would get not ten minutes of rest before he'd hear it: Ty's voice screaming for help.
At first he wouldn't be sure of it, then he hear his own name being called over and over. He'd move to help, to find his young partner, but the darkness would hold him tightly in a death-grip. Louder and louder Ty would scream, his cries becoming shrill in agony and despair, but Sully couldn't move. He couldn't do a thing to help his friend, and it nearly killed him. He would wake then, his heart beating crazily and in a cold sweat, unconscious tears streaming down his face.
So he sat, afraid to be asleep and afraid to be awake, dreading the next visit of the doctor or the frantic beeping of monitors ringing in bad news.
The soft swish of the ventilator was his only companion, the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor his consolation. As long as he had those two sounds he was okay, the sounds bringing both assurance that Ty was still alive, but the gravity of his predicament as well. I was the soft assurance that kept him sane.
"God, please," he whispered for the hundredth time that hour, pausing to beg the Almighty to grant him his one and only prayer. "Please..."
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"The pen is mightier than the sword, they say," he quoted under his breath. He smiled slightly as he stroked the blade through his fingers, relishing the cold steel against his flesh. "Well, they're wrong... my sword will always be mightier."
He slipped the knife back into its sheath, taking great pleasure at the soft swish it made when put away. "Soon, my pretty, soon."
The hour was near. The hour in which retribution would be taken in an act so perfectly painful that even he shivered at the thought. It would have to be that way. If it weren't, it just wouldn't be right. Recompense would be given to one of those that took his joy away.
The hour was near.
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TBC... We're getting there, people! Hang on tight...