Chapter Twenty-Four--
A/N: Once again, thank you for all of the great feedback! It's very much appreciated! There's still more to come, and I threw in a twist or two... ;)
Warning: Contains violent material.
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Faith stepped noiselessly into the doorway, her trembling fingers gripping the cold metal gun resolutely. The darkness of the night hindered her sight, and her eyes begged to focus as she moved, knowing full-well that something appallingly disturbing lay right in front of her. Every emotion played madly in her body, cataclysmically sending adrenalin rushing through her veins. The terrible, horrifying cries emanating from the bathroom had subsided a few seconds ago, and now the apartment was encased in a tomblike hush. Her heart randomly raced and stopped as she braced herself for what she was about to witness. Be strong, be strong...God, Bosco, hold on...
A second passed before her eyes adjusted fully, shadows coming into focus first, and then the shapes of two men slumped against the wall. Her breath was once again taken from her as she recognized her partner's trembling body strewn haphazardly against the other man.
Oh, God, no...
Time slowed considerably, preventing her from committing the swift actions that her mind screamed for. Her hand slowly brought the gun up as she felt her legs nearly give out in panic.
Then she saw it. First, a long, thin silhouette, and then a glint of metal. The man raised the long, sharp knife above Bosco's body, wordlessly threatening to end his life.
***********
Bosco felt his body involuntarily become rigid, his arms and legs jerking erratically as pain shot through him. Reflexes were impulsively causing his exhausted, aching body to spasm, bringing on a fresh new wave of torture. Using every ounce of strength he had left, he had managed to curb the inclination to vomit the heavy fluid that had filled his stomach to the bursting point, fighting against the bile and pulsing gags only because he knew that if he did indeed throw up, he might inhale the liquid and strangle to death. His hands and feet were becoming numb from loss of circulation, or rather lack of enough blood, and he could see them twitching sporadically as they begged for the vital fluid. Unfortunately, he was still losing blood in a steady, relentless flow, and his efforts to stem the stream were useless. Please help me...
He gasped softly as he realized that someone was indeed standing before them - a tall, dark silhouette that moved adeptly from shadow to shadow.
His tear-filled eyes refused to focus entirely, but he didn't need the extra vision to make out the figure's owner. He knew that shadow, that form - he'd worked alongside it for eight long years. Faith.
He felt his breath leave his burning chest as a heavy sigh of mixed relief, and he waited, watching her in shock as she brought up her right hand shakily, her hand grasping the familiar shape of a gun. He could feel the man behind him move slightly, bringing on a fresh wave of red-hot agony.
Faith...please... he begged as his body quivered against the seething fire.
***********
The steering wheel had warmed from near-frozen to a comfortable temperature as Matt clenched the leather ring tightly, the change entirely generated from his nervous energy.
Sam had just explained the reason for their swift departure, warning him of the possibility that they could and just might cross paths with the killer they sought. This information only served to sent shivers of horror and alarm racing up and down his spine. Nearly beside himself with anxiousness, his only comfort was the heavy, but reassuring weight of the two weapons that were strapped to his torso.
God, please...he prayed silently, his fears and wishes only heard by the Man upstairs, Oh, God, I'm scared... Please, please let everything go okay. We need this to be it... this has to be it... Please help us - if you're out there. Please...
**********
He sighed contentedly when he felt Boscorelli suddenly jerk again, his body becoming more and more rigid as seizing convulsions overtook his trembling form. The soothing feelings of complete retribution were washing over him, and he relished in each agonizing movement from his victim.
It wouldn't be long now until he would feel the sadistic convulsions completely engulf the officer, each and every muscle in his weakened body fighting desperately for control, but it would be to no avail. He would slowly become limp, his body having fought until there was nothing left to fight with, no energy, no strength left at all. His eyes would droop, then roll back in his head until only the whites showed, and the treacherous quivering of his extremities would slowly subside, becoming completely flaccid as he died.
In his twisted mind, contorted from pure grief and an evil thirst for reprisal, he only saw beauty in this moment, and he waited anxiously for the end. He thought a few times for a fleeting second that perhaps this was going too far, that his actions were too extreme, but the haunting images of his son's terrible and untimely death would always drive him to finish.
A slight movement caught his eye, and his head snapped up. What the hell...? Whatever it was crept into the shadows of the doorway and filled the empty hole with the dark -but unmistakable- silhouette of a person. A person that was holding a gun.
Stunned, he hesitated for half a second, his mouth falling open slightly. How had this happened? He'd been so careful, so meticulous...
His shock quickly turned into anger, and his fist curled furiously around the handle of the knife as he raised it menacingly, daring said figure to shoot, his mouth turning up at the corners in a devilish grin.
Try me.
**********
Bosco felt his heart begin to race as he saw the glint of the bloody knife again, but this time it was held ominously right above his wound, wordlessly threatening to plunge into his side once more. God, no...
His breathing started to pace his rapid heart rate, coming sharp and quick, a clear reflection of his pain and panicked terror. He felt his body seize up and convulse again, but this time he didn't fight the vicious shudder, instead concentrating his efforts on ridding his mouth of the bloody bile that had seeped in from his roiling stomach.
Shoot him, Faith...Just shoot him... he pled wordlessly with his partner, his frantic gasps not allowing the actual words to be spoken.
But Faith must have seen the knife and wasn't moving. Her weapon was still leveled at the man, but she had yet to pull the trigger or even speak in obvious fear for his life. Bosco, although he appreciated this consideration, wanted nothing more right then to hear the loud crack of the gun discharging. He feared nothing for his own life, but was alarmed at the realization that his partner might also be hurt or killed as well. Just shoot the bastard, Faith!
Sweat continued to pour down his face as he watched the silent game of chicken that was being played. Faith never wavered, though neither did her opponent, and the room was filled with a thick tension that was only cut by the rasping wheezes of his hurried, awkward breaths.
**********
She stood frozen, devastated, as she listening to the rough rattling of her partner's labored breathing, her mind groping desperately for the right thing to do. Should she shoot now and risk killing Bosco? Should she say something? Should she just stand here and hold the gun at him? What if he stabbed Bosco again? What if...
Her frantic thoughts were interrupted by a low growl. The man was laughing, a gravely, guttural sound that made her stomach turn with fear. Oh, sick...God, help me...help me...
The man shifted his body until he was sitting upright; the knife never faltering from it's precarious position right above Bosco's heaving side. Her partner groaned miserably at the movement, his body stiffening in obvious agony, and his breathing altering to hysterical gasps. She couldn't make out his face, but she knew that he was terrified and in excruciating pain, leaving her feeling very helpless and vulnerable to the knife and the man that held it.
God, tell me what to do! Help me!
The man chuckled wickedly again, but this time she saw him shake his head. His amusement quickly subsided though, and his mood made a swift change to anger as he snarled, "Put the gun down."
Faith, startled by the unexpectedness of the deep voice, felt herself jump slightly. She fought with her whirling mind for a second, trying madly to decide whether or not to obey. If she dropped the weapon, her only defense, she as well as her partner were entirely susceptible to the man. If she didn't... Would he...? He must know that if he stabbed Bosco again that she wouldn't hesitate to shoot him.
She quickly chose to keep the gun in her hand, praying for all she was worth that her decision would not prove deadly. A few seconds passed of silence, save the grating rattling of Bosco's choking breaths, and Faith wasn't sure what to do once again. She couldn't just stand there...
"I said put the gun down," the dark shadow snapped, clearly furious. He raised the knife an inch, again threatening to plunge it in. "You don't and I kill him."
Bosco, hold on...God, don't let him die...
Faith took a deep breath, taking a tentative step into the room, hoping her rash movement would throw the man off for a moment so that she could get closer for a better shot. Careful...
"Stop!"
She complied this time when she saw him grab Bosco's neck with his free hand and squeeze it harshly. Her partner's breaths were silenced altogether as the little air he was getting was cut off entirely.
**********
He watched in horror as Faith took a slow step into the bathroom, his tear-filled eyes begging her to stop. The man responded to her move by sharply grabbing his throat and choking off his air supply, and once again Bosco was left fighting against the strong, strangling fingers. Oh, please...help me, Faith. Shoot him!
"Let him go..." his partner whispered frantically, finally finding her voice. She sounded terrified, and rightly so, but right now she just needed to shoot... He needed air...
Painful, multicolored spots began to form at the edges of his vision, searing through his head like fire, and he struggled not to pass out from pain, lack of air, and hysteria. Faith... please...I need air...I need...
He felt the recognizable sensation of his stomach turning violently, but this time he could not do anything to stop the vomit that made its way rapidly up his throat. Fortunately, because the man was holding his throat so tightly, nothing happened except the vicious gagging that his reflexes allowed. Again and again, his body heaved, seizing in excruciating spasms, but he could do nothing except inwardly scream as him body was racked once again with convulsions. Faith...Oh, God! Faith...
***********
"Turn here, Matt," Sam commanded softly. His voice had taken on an edgy tone that mirrored the uneasiness that filled his being. Somehow instinct had warned him to prepare himself for anther grisly murder, and his stomach and nerves weren't looking forward to it at all. He sighed deeply as he noted the white tinge to his partner's knuckles as he forcefully gripped the steering wheel. Poor kid.
Matt was so young, so fresh. The stress of a massive homicide investigation like this one had to be crushing - something a young man his age should never have to be put through. Yet, he had been such a great partner, such an immense help in this case. Heck, if it weren't for the intuitive and insanely smart detective, they would have never gotten the break that he'd found that night. Sam honestly didn't know where he'd be right now without him...
He thought back to their first day together, the day that the Chief had introduced them as partners. Sam had been skeptical when he'd first caught sight of the mid-twenties, blond, dimpled, and utterly charming Texan, but had let his first impression slide after the first few hours. Matt had quickly proved himself to be not only mature, but an intelligent, hardworking, driven individual.
Sam watched his young face intently, his eyes lingering on the hard lines that replaced his jovial dimples, the scowl of frustration and concentration that had superseded his infectious grin.
"You okay, kid?" he asked, knowing that his partner had to be feeling the same heavy anticipation that he was right that moment.
Matt swallowed hard and nodded, but his dark, brooding eyes betrayed him fully. "Yeah..." he answered in his soft drawl, his voice slightly above a whisper, as if he was trying to convince himself as well as his partner.
Sam half-smiled at the failed attempt, amused at the first lie that his young partner had ever told him. "It'll be okay, Matt," he stated solemnly.
The corners of Matt's mouth turned up in a ghost of his past grins, no doubt chuckling inwardly at the obvious lie and the irony of the avowal. Sam also felt himself smiling, amused as well, relived and glad that his partner was okay.
Perhaps lying to each other was wrong, but at that moment it was right.
**********
Faith watched her partner writhe in agony as he struggled to find air, fighting not to scream or do anything terribly rash. Her fingers itched to squeeze the trigger, but by the way her partner was squirming, she would never get a clear shot. She would have to put the gun down...
The man didn't leave her enough time to drop it, however, before he let out a low bellow of frustration and plunged the knife into Bosco's side once more, but this time further up his torso - nearly heart level...
Oh, my God! Oh, God!
"Noooo...!" she shrieked, as she instinctively ran forward a few steps and aimed, firing off a round into the darkness. The bright, white, glaring flash blinded her for a moment, but her eyes adjusted a second later enough to see.
Her shot had been right on. The man slowly slumped against the wall and then fell sideways down to the floor, dragging a sobbing, gasping Bosco along with him.
She immediately flew to her partner's side, her hysterical gasps lost amongst Bosco's. "Oh, God... Oh, God... Oh, God, Bosco..." she whispered as she knelt beside his quivering form.
He wasn't moving at all, save the ragged movement of his panting chest, his labored breaths tearing though the room louder than the gunshot.
**********
Dammit.
She wasn't backing down. She was refusing to obey him. How dare her... How dare her! Did she know what he could do? What he could do right now to her partner? She had ruined his plan terribly, and now she had the audacity to stand up to him as if she could control what would go down. Well, he would make her pay for this... this rude interruption.
Dammit, you bitch.
Completely frustrated and tiring of the game she seemed to be playing, he let out a growl and gave in to his impulses, plunging the knife down quickly into Boscorelli's heaving side.
The blade ripped through the skin easily, burying deeply as it tore though layer upon layer of soft flesh and muscle. Fresh, thick fluid spilled from the wound, and he felt the immense satisfaction well up in his chest again as he forced the blade down even further. Boscorelli thrashed about, but his jerky, shuddering movements didn't sway his actions at all. He yanked the blade out again, knowing full well that the suction and motion would only aid in the bloodletting of the wound.
He was vaguely aware of the sudden movement from the other officer as she scrambled into the room and aimed that dammed gun, instead choosing to concentrate on the feelings that were overwhelming him.
Ryan's face appeared before him again, and he smiled, realizing that his job had been done. She hadn't foiled his plan after all. Justice had been served, vengeance had been captured, his vindication taken care of. Boscorelli now had two fatal wounds maiming his body and there was no way in hell that he would make it out of the apartment alive.
The gun sounded, a bittersweet roar, and he felt a burning ball of fire hit his chest. He nearly laughed though, remembering the one thing that the officer's did not know. But they would find out soon enough...
Ryan, I love you. Daddy loves you...
***********
Between the rings and spots that masked his vision, Bosco saw Faith hesitate. She looked as though she might just give in to the man's request and drop the gun... No, Faith... Noooo...
New tears of discouragement welled up in his eyes and he felt the man tense behind him, his arm tightening around his throat even more. No! Air ...I... need air...
His ephemeral thoughts were quickly pushed aside though, when the man's arm came down again, enforcing a new wave of pain and nausea that enveloped him as the blade once again stabbed him forcefully.
Bosco felt his back arch again in agony, and he used every ounce of energy he had left to try to free himself from the unforgiving grasp. He writhed against the man, the knife, and the burning pain that seared his body in half, floundering and thrashing about violently. The man had other ideas and pushed again on the knife, his strength outweighing Bosco's by multitudes.
God! Oh, shit! He could hear the horrible thumping of his feet as they kicked vainly at the floor, and the eerie scratching sound of his fingernails as they dug into the wood, struggling and straining with all his might.
His eyes were so blurry and full of pain-ridden tears that he couldn't see Faith as she ran in, his ears so filled with the sound of rushing blood that he didn't hear her frenzied footsteps. Bosco felt himself losing the battle of consciousness, his body finally giving in and letting go, his will no longer strong enough to contradict.
A loud, resounding, yet familiar, roar echoed throughout the room and he felt the man's grasp weaken considerably, his fingers letting go of his throat, and then his body slumping against the wall behind them.
Bosco sucked in a huge breath, dispersing some of the painful, psychedelic spots as he attempted to catch his breath once again, gasping and wheezing, choking on the rising fluid that threatened once more to end his life.
Finally, he thought weakly as he felt himself slide down with the man to the floor. She used the damn gun... Finally, Faith...
**********
He was so still. Bosco had stopped the sickening struggling and had fallen easily to the floor beside the bleeding mad man, his arms and legs flopping once before they hit the ground with a horrible thud. He continued to gasp for air nevertheless, and the sobbing, gurgling inhales were her only consolation.
Faith felt herself fall to her knees and crawl towards him, her own breath refusing to come due to the panic that had tightened her chest. "Bosco! God, Bosco..." she sobbed in a whisper as she neared him. She nearly lost her dinner when she saw his face, his eyes squeezed closed as his mouth contorted into an agonized grimace, his whole face dripping in sweat and his hair matted down from the sticky wetness.
"Bosco?" she choked, her eyes moving down to his wounds. In the darkness, she could make out the sinister stain that had marred his shirt and the two large gashes that had ripped apart the fabric, reminding her of the severity of his condition. Her fingers unconsciously flexed and unflexed, her mind frenetically trying to remember what she should do in such a situation.
"God..." Bosco gasped in between breaths - if you could call them that. His body began to become rigid again as another spasm overtook him, and he cried out in anguish, a groaning, pitiful sob.
Faith, dizzy from panic and adrenaline, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up to see the extent of the damage, but only succeeded in inflicting more pain on her partner. He clawed at her hands, his eyes begging her to stop as he moaned and twisted about on the floor.
Oh, God...God, help me, I'm sorry.
"I'm sorry, Bosco... I'm so sorry..." she wept. "I'll get you help... I'm sorry..."
Feeling the heavy plastic of her cell phone, she reached into her pocket and retrieved it, snapping the cover open as hurriedly as her shaking fingers would allow. The device let out a resounding beep as it turned on, and she quickly dialed the emergency number, letting her free hand rest reassuringly on her partner's clenched fist.
**********
Bosco didn't know whether to feel relived or alarmed again. Sure, Faith had shot the bastard that had done this... but he was still dying. On his bathroom floor, no less. Oh, sick...
Don't let me die, God...Please... I'm begging you...I'll do anything...
Faith had slid into a kneeling position beside him, and was trying to help, but whatever she'd done had only sent fierce pain ricocheting up and down his body.
Shit...his mind screamed when he felt himself convulse again, his body trying to fight against the excruciating pain. Shit, shit, shit... He just gritted he teeth and clenched his fists, hoping he could ride it out without passing out.
He felt Faith's warm hand grab his own, and heard her frantic call to the emergency dispatcher. He'd heard her make similar calls before, one being last week when she'd called in Marty's attack, but none he'd ever heard had been so terror-stricken, so distressed.
She leaned in when she had finished, pushing his wet, sticky hair off his forehead. "Bos? I need to put pressure on..." her voice cracked, but she continued on bravely, "...it's goin' to hurt, okay? I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Faith pulled her scarf from around her neck, pausing only to ball it up into a tight wad. Oh, shit, no...please...
He tried to prepare himself for the onslaught, but his best efforts fell extremely short. The pain was unlike any other, more excruciating and terrifying then anything he'd experienced so far. Hell had to be less painful then this... He felt his stomach turn as he thrashed about and kicked against it, screaming as best as his tight, heaving chest would allow, and he finally gave in to the urge fully, vomiting a surge of liquid as his stomach emptied itself of the heavy, stifling fluids.
Faith's eyes grew wide at this and she quickly grabbed his chin, turning his head so he wouldn't strangle on it. "God," she shrieked in frustration, "don't do this!"
He sobbed as he gagged and choked, struggling not to inhale any of the blood. I'm sorry, Faith...
***********
"See, I told you," Carlos griped to his partner as they pulled up to the building in question, "There's nobody here. False alarm. Like it's gonna be any different the thirtieth time this week... seriously."
Doc rolled his eyes for the thirtieth time that hour, frustrated with the constant patter of nonsense that his partner made him put up with. He pretended not to hear the annoying comments though, and parked the bus alongside the curb. "Let's just go in and get this over with, okay?"
"Doc, there's nobody here," Carlos stated slowly and emphatically, as if the senior paramedic hadn't heard him the first time. "We don't need to get out and check it out. It's fine, see?" He motioned with his gloved hand to the seemingly empty building, his brow raised in a cocky smirk.
"Carlos, what the hell is wrong with you tonight? All you want to do is cut corners! Stop being such a baby and do your job - or I'll fire you. I'm not kidding."
Carlos opened his mouth to protest, but the loud cackling of the CB radio interrupted him, "Adam-55-3, respond to a 10-13 at 6702 Wallace Rd, apartment 430. I repeat, 10-13, Officer down."
Doc felt his breath catch apprehensively, and he glanced over at Carlos. The young man's mouth hung open, his eyes wide with concern. "You think...?" Carlos started, leaving off the end of the sentence wisely.
Doc flicked the sirens on and shifted the bus into 'drive', his own concern displayed in his apparent haste. "I don't know, Carlos... I don't know..."
**********
Matt hopped out of the car, closing the door quietly behind him. His eyes traveled to the windows that littered the side of the building, casually wondering if any belonged to Officer Boscorelli.
Sam plodded though the snow, heading for the front door, his hand automatically reaching for the security of his gun. Matt followed suit, his fingers finding the metal and pulling it from its holster, the nervousness of his stomach rebelling against his efforts to calm it.
"Sam?" he asked hesitantly, afraid to voice his fears.
His partner turned his head slightly as they made their way into the warmth of the heated apartment complex, never stopping his forward travel, but pausing his thoughts to focus on the young man. Sam raised his brow, noiselessly inviting him to continue.
Matt could see the kind, understanding glint in the senior detective's eyes, and was instantly comforted by his wordless reassurance. He half-smiled, realizing that the small look was all he needed.
"Nothin'," he replied, shaking his head.
***********
Faith continued to press the bundled up scarf to Bosco's wounds, trying desperately to ignore his agonized cries as she administered as much pressure as she could. If she let his sobs get to her, she could very well kill him by being merciful. Then again, she was nearly killing him now...
"Bosco, it's okay... I'm sorry. It's over... It's okay...Help's almost here..." she soothed, her voice faltering as she spoke softly. Her eyes wandered from his pain-filled, glassy eyes to the puddle of vomit that had just spewed from his mouth. She didn't need light to know that it wasn't merely bile, but a thick mix of the acid and blood. God, help him...
A low noise caught her attention, and her head snapped around. The man lying beside Bosco was smiling, his bloodied face frozen into a wide grin. Oh my God! He wasn't dead. He was alive, breathing... and smiling. Oh, sick...
Faith, entirely shocked, couldn't tear her eyes away from his impious face. He slowly took a breath, shuddering slightly as he inhaled, and then spoke in a throaty whisper, "You actually think...this is...over? He'll find you... He will...find...you..." He chuckled, using the last of his air to send shivers of revulsion racing up and down her spine.
Faith grabbed the gun from the floor and pointed it at his heart. "Shut up, you sick bastard!" she breathed, firing off another round at point-blank range. Blood spattered everywhere as his chest exploded, leaving little to the imagination.
He was definitely dead now.
**********
The two detectives ambled promptly up the stairwell, each lost in his own thoughts. The coldness of the evening just helped to instill the uncomfortable dread that smothered away any positive thoughts, leaving only room for the foreboding and fear-laced ones. Each, in their own time, had entertained the thought of running into the killer, the reality of the happening all to feasible to be taken lightly.
Suddenly, a loud reverberation echoed down the staircase, shocking the two as they halted in alarm.
"Aw, shit..." Matt whispered, his eyes locked on the fourth floor door that the sound had emitted from. 430. Boscorelli's apartment.
They were too late.
**********
Bosco jumped at the sudden noise, then cringed when his aching body protested ardently. He'd heard every word of what the man had said, and his chest ached with fear. Oh, God, please don't let that be true... Please...it's over...let it be over...
"Faith?" he managed to croak out, his burning throat barely permitting the word.
"Shhh," she shushed him, her blue eyes wide with fear. "It's okay - he's dead now, Bos... You just hold on, okay?"
He didn't hear the last half of the sentence as the loud sound of his beating heart drowned out her words. His heart quickly picked up pace, thundering deafeningly in his head at it crazily searched for something to sustain itself. There must not be enough blood left in me...he though faintly as he felt his eyes flutter closed.
**********
TBC...