Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been.
A/N: ok I know this has been done a few times, but I just want to write my own version; because it pissed me off that they never continued this plot. It's a one-shot little "Dramedy."
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"I should've shot him," his voice was so resolved under his pain. The bus hit another bump and his back arched slightly in attempts to keep his cries to himself.
"But you didn't," I reminded him, taking his hand. It was the only form of comfort I could think of at the moment; the only thing that reminded me that he was really all right. OK so he wasn't all right, he had been shot and fallen from a two-story window, but he was here, now, and that's all I needed to know.
"I could've."
"But you didn't," I reiterated with a laugh as his eyes closed. At first I was alarmed, but there were no tell tale signs of. . .well, you know. . .The pain medication had finally taken effect.
"OK, we're here," Doc said and threw the ambulance into park, then proceeded to pull his gurney out.
He was out like a light for the whole exam. Which in reality I suppose was a good thing, he didn't feel the pain, and the doctors and nurses didn't have to deal with his bitching.
It's amazing how resilient the human body is. A gun shot to some Kevlar, and about a 16 foot fall, and he escapes with a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a concussion; amazing.
The doctors wanted to keep him for a few days, which I knew he'd protest to, but I didn't know he would be able to so soon.
I walked into his room, to find him surprisingly alert and trying to pull on a shirt. He soon became frustrated with the IV protruding from is hand and the sling that held that very arm, and began tearing at the tape that adhered it to his skin.
"Bosco, what the hell do you think your doing?" I admonished, looking into his sad eyes. He instantly stopped when the words escaped my mouth, and he knew he was in for some deep shit.
"Leaving," his voice was strained and obviously pained. His eyes were glazed over as he went back to removing the vital fluid line from his arm.
"Like hell you are; Bosco, you just fell out of a two story window!"
"Yeah Faith, I think I know that much!" He tried to yell. It didn't come higher then a forced whisper and his reflexes brought his good arm to his painful ribs. He stumbled back, leaning against the gurney until he caught his breath.
The alarm signaling that his IV was pulled out started to sound, and I knew that a nurse would be in here pretty soon. I had to talk him down.
"Bosco, just sit down, your not going anywhere. . ." I started, still getting that look from him. That look like nothing in the world can stop him from leaving, I knew that look far too well, "you actually gunna make me call your mother?"
He looks down, and then back up at me. This time, I see that his eyes are glazed over with tears not shed.
"I was scared Faith," he told me pausing, "I didn't even realize we both went through it 'till I hit the ground," she took a shudder breath and continued to hold back tears, "I don't get scared Faith."
With that a nurse came bustling in, "Officer, you have to keep that line in!" She shook her head and looked up, "where do you think your going huh? It's a miracle you can even walk. . ." she continued to ramble in her far- too-sweet-southern-bell accent.
Bosco looked up at me with pleading eyes as the nurse laid him back, putting the needle of the IV back into him hand. He looked he's five years old again, from the pictures I've seen. I nodded at him reassuringly and he clenched his eyes closed, turning his head toward the window, away from me.
I found myself looking at the floor and before I knew it a nurse is escorting me out, "I need to talk with you," she said to me, "don't worry Officer Boscorelli, I'll have your partner back in a jiffy."
She's really too perky, I thought to myself when we finally get out side Bosco's room.
"Look," here's that accent of hers again, "he needs to stay put Officer Yokas, and from what I heard from some senior nurses, he trusts you. . . so keep him here please?"
I nodded, mostly for myself. I read her name tag and looked back up at her, "Thanks Rita, I'll talk to him," I stumbled on my words. Rita seemed concerned over Bosco's health, and that scared me. But he was breathing, walking and talking so I pushed the thought in the back of my mind.
Rita had shut the lights off in his little curtained-off area of the room, but he was wide-awake. I drew back the curtain and invited myself in.
"Go home Faith, Fred's gunna be worried," he said without looking at me. I doubt anything outside could be holding his attention; he just didn't want to look at me.
"I called him, he knows I'm here," I patted his hand gently, "look at me Bos."
His head turns slightly and his eyes reverted their direction, looking towards me, "what?"
"You don't have to be scared anymore," I take hold of his hand again. He looks down at my hand and then up at me.
"I'm not."
A smirk played across his face and he let out a painful laugh, "you actually bought that?"
I'm taken back by his question and I open my mouth to speak, but he does first, "I was pulling you leg. I wasn't scared, hell, I'd do it again if it meant pummeling that bastard. I was just trying to get out of here," he continued his nervous laugh.
I pulled my hand from his and smacked him in the arm, "you little son of a. . ." but he groaned in pain before I can finish. His knuckles turned white from his grip on his bad arm and he leaned over in pain.
At first I'm startled, then I realized. . . I had hit his bad arm.
"Sorry Bos."
~*FINISHED*~
A/N: ok I know this has been done a few times, but I just want to write my own version; because it pissed me off that they never continued this plot. It's a one-shot little "Dramedy."
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
"I should've shot him," his voice was so resolved under his pain. The bus hit another bump and his back arched slightly in attempts to keep his cries to himself.
"But you didn't," I reminded him, taking his hand. It was the only form of comfort I could think of at the moment; the only thing that reminded me that he was really all right. OK so he wasn't all right, he had been shot and fallen from a two-story window, but he was here, now, and that's all I needed to know.
"I could've."
"But you didn't," I reiterated with a laugh as his eyes closed. At first I was alarmed, but there were no tell tale signs of. . .well, you know. . .The pain medication had finally taken effect.
"OK, we're here," Doc said and threw the ambulance into park, then proceeded to pull his gurney out.
He was out like a light for the whole exam. Which in reality I suppose was a good thing, he didn't feel the pain, and the doctors and nurses didn't have to deal with his bitching.
It's amazing how resilient the human body is. A gun shot to some Kevlar, and about a 16 foot fall, and he escapes with a few broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a concussion; amazing.
The doctors wanted to keep him for a few days, which I knew he'd protest to, but I didn't know he would be able to so soon.
I walked into his room, to find him surprisingly alert and trying to pull on a shirt. He soon became frustrated with the IV protruding from is hand and the sling that held that very arm, and began tearing at the tape that adhered it to his skin.
"Bosco, what the hell do you think your doing?" I admonished, looking into his sad eyes. He instantly stopped when the words escaped my mouth, and he knew he was in for some deep shit.
"Leaving," his voice was strained and obviously pained. His eyes were glazed over as he went back to removing the vital fluid line from his arm.
"Like hell you are; Bosco, you just fell out of a two story window!"
"Yeah Faith, I think I know that much!" He tried to yell. It didn't come higher then a forced whisper and his reflexes brought his good arm to his painful ribs. He stumbled back, leaning against the gurney until he caught his breath.
The alarm signaling that his IV was pulled out started to sound, and I knew that a nurse would be in here pretty soon. I had to talk him down.
"Bosco, just sit down, your not going anywhere. . ." I started, still getting that look from him. That look like nothing in the world can stop him from leaving, I knew that look far too well, "you actually gunna make me call your mother?"
He looks down, and then back up at me. This time, I see that his eyes are glazed over with tears not shed.
"I was scared Faith," he told me pausing, "I didn't even realize we both went through it 'till I hit the ground," she took a shudder breath and continued to hold back tears, "I don't get scared Faith."
With that a nurse came bustling in, "Officer, you have to keep that line in!" She shook her head and looked up, "where do you think your going huh? It's a miracle you can even walk. . ." she continued to ramble in her far- too-sweet-southern-bell accent.
Bosco looked up at me with pleading eyes as the nurse laid him back, putting the needle of the IV back into him hand. He looked he's five years old again, from the pictures I've seen. I nodded at him reassuringly and he clenched his eyes closed, turning his head toward the window, away from me.
I found myself looking at the floor and before I knew it a nurse is escorting me out, "I need to talk with you," she said to me, "don't worry Officer Boscorelli, I'll have your partner back in a jiffy."
She's really too perky, I thought to myself when we finally get out side Bosco's room.
"Look," here's that accent of hers again, "he needs to stay put Officer Yokas, and from what I heard from some senior nurses, he trusts you. . . so keep him here please?"
I nodded, mostly for myself. I read her name tag and looked back up at her, "Thanks Rita, I'll talk to him," I stumbled on my words. Rita seemed concerned over Bosco's health, and that scared me. But he was breathing, walking and talking so I pushed the thought in the back of my mind.
Rita had shut the lights off in his little curtained-off area of the room, but he was wide-awake. I drew back the curtain and invited myself in.
"Go home Faith, Fred's gunna be worried," he said without looking at me. I doubt anything outside could be holding his attention; he just didn't want to look at me.
"I called him, he knows I'm here," I patted his hand gently, "look at me Bos."
His head turns slightly and his eyes reverted their direction, looking towards me, "what?"
"You don't have to be scared anymore," I take hold of his hand again. He looks down at my hand and then up at me.
"I'm not."
A smirk played across his face and he let out a painful laugh, "you actually bought that?"
I'm taken back by his question and I open my mouth to speak, but he does first, "I was pulling you leg. I wasn't scared, hell, I'd do it again if it meant pummeling that bastard. I was just trying to get out of here," he continued his nervous laugh.
I pulled my hand from his and smacked him in the arm, "you little son of a. . ." but he groaned in pain before I can finish. His knuckles turned white from his grip on his bad arm and he leaned over in pain.
At first I'm startled, then I realized. . . I had hit his bad arm.
"Sorry Bos."
~*FINISHED*~