Just incase anyone is wondering, I am going to finish The Hours After, but in the mean time, I have been working on this new one.

So, if you like it, please review and let me know. I love reading your comments, they make my day!

Please feel free to e-mail me if you have any questions or comments: jbpunk2003@yahoo.ca

As usual, Sarah deserves a whole lotna credit. I love ya, girl ;)

Thanks so much and enjoy!

~JOEY~

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A Fine Balance-

Chapter 1

Bosco carefully traced the pattern of the bourbon on the condensation that had gathered on the outside of the glass. His eyes engaged in deep concentration on the events of the day. So much had happened - so much had gone wrong. He couldn't remember a similar day on the job when there were no breaks in the action. He felt like he had been constantly running from one problem to another, placing a band-aid on each of them - none of the conflicts actually getting resolved.

It got to the point where he was just going through the motions. He blocked out any emotional attachments, sympathy - any feelings that could interrupt the flow of the day. It always works at the time, but as he sat on the stool in the desolate bar, tended by his mother, he faced the consequences of his actions. All of the feelings and emotions he worked so hard to block out came rushing back in fury, each one building on the last until he felt buried by the problems of others.

He closed his eyes and lowered his head slightly while exhaling.

"Maurice, you should go home."

Without opening his eyes, he grabbed the glass of bourbon on the counter and tossed the remaining contents of the drink down his throat.

Once the stinging from the strong fluid resided, he looked up to see his mother glaring back at him while wiping the counter of the bar.

"Is there something you want to talk about?"

"No, Ma. Just a shitty day."

"We all have shitty days, Maurice. Don't take it out on your liver."

He snickered at her hypocritical comment and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

Tossing a $20 bill on the counter, he nodded his goodbye to his mother and walked out of the bar.

The harsh cold stung Bosco's lungs as he stepped outside. He roughly stuffed his hands into his pockets and tucked his chin into the collar of his jacket.

'It must have dropped 20 degrees in an hour,' he thought to himself as he walked past his beloved car, realizing he was far too intoxicated to drive himself home. On that night, the 10 block walk didn't seem as far as usual.

Every street he passed brought back memories from the day. He stopped as he passed the little park on the north side of the street, recalling the face of the terrified mother when she told him of the ex-pedophile that had tried to kidnap her 7-year-old daughter while she was on the swings after school. Bosco shook his head in disbelief. The man had tried to claim his innocence by stating that she looked cold and that he had just wanted to give her a ride home before she got sick. On any other day, Bosco would have pummeled the man, but at that point in the shift, he had already managed to separate himself from his emotions. Now, he regretted letting the guy go without a few good knocks to his sick head.

Bosco sighed and noticed how clearly he could see his breath in the frigid night air. He kicked the snow off of his boots on the chain-link fence before continuing to walk down the sidewalk.

Stealing a glance at the large clock on the front of the building across the road, he realized it was 1:30 am and far too late to do anything but go home - which is the last place in the world he wanted to be at that moment. It was funny how in a city filled with millions of people, he could walk for five minutes without passing a single soul. The lack of company left him alone with his thoughts, something he tried not to do too often.

Six blocks from his apartment, he sat on a bench outside of a deserted bakery. Staring blindly into the street in front of him, he pictured the accident that had occupied the pavement just a few hours ago. It was one of the worst accidents he had ever been called to. A three car pile-up with one survivor, a four month old child, whose parent's lives had been claimed. Even with all the people that witnessed the horrific scene, not one of them could describe how it had happened. All Bosco could write up was the death of four people and an infant left orphaned.

Bosco looked down and noticed that despite the alcohol in his system, he was shivering violently. He slowly rubbed his hands together in a feeble attempt to generate warmth. A car horn snapped his trance.

He glanced up to see the vehicle slowing down I front of him.

"Bosco, what are you doing, man?" Davis yelled out through the passenger side window.

Bosco stood up and walked over to the idling car. "Nothing, just had a few drinks and didn't want to drive home."

"So, you decided to sit on a bench all night?"

Bosco laughed lightly at Davis' question while leaning on the car with his forearms, "Shut-up, Davis. What are you doing cruising these streets at this hour? Looking for a last minute date?"

"Get in the car, I'll drive you home," Davis replied without responding to Bosco's degrading comment.

After hesitating for a second, Bosco opened the door he was leaning on and lowered himself into the warmth of the heated car.

Neither of them said another word as Ty shifted into drive and continued down the street.

As the car pulled to a halt a red light, Bosco's eyes locked on the building that had been engulfed in flames for the majority of the day. What had previously housed hundreds of people's families and possessions had diminished into a pile of black rubble, littering the New York street. He remembered the tears cried by the young boy who couldn't believe that the firefighters weren't going to the 12th floor to save his dog.

Bosco leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the window without removing his eyes from the sad sight.

"You okay, Bos?"

He didn't bother verbally responding to Davis' question, but instead, gave an unconvincing nod of his head.

He could feel Davis' eyes on him, which, if he weren't drunk, would have made him very uncomfortable.

"Green," Bosco mumbled.

"What?" Davis asked, trying to understand the non-specific comment.

Bosco turned his head to face Davis, "The light," he said, gesturing forward with his hand, "it's green."

"Oh, right," Davis answered, obviously flustered.

As Davis stepped on the gas, Bosco turned back to the window. Just as they were entering the intersection, Bosco caught sight of a pick-up truck barreling directly towards them. Before he could yell at Davis to stop or even move to protect himself, he heard the sickening screech of metal on metal.

As the car was propelled through the air, Bosco felt his neck snap to the right and his head smash through the window. The two vehicles' tires squealed in unison and the snapping of plastic and metal gorged the quiet night air.

The truck's front end compressed the passenger's side of the car into the driver's side. Bosco felt his right leg being bend in an awkward position before he was thrown on top of Ty. The pressure of the truck caused Bosco's door to snap in half, the frame dangerously thrusting in, towards the two occupants. Bosco cried out as the metal made contact with the right side of his back, the puncture causing him to gasp in shock.

Finally, the two vehicles slowed to a stop. The only sound was the soft crackle of the broken metal and the gasping from the helpless passengers.

"Bosco," Davis breathlessly whispered to his fallen friend, whose head was pressed up against his knee, below the mangled steering wheel.

Bosco took several more gasping breaths before he even attempted to answer, "Davis…. You alright?"

Ty looked down at his body for a second, doing a brief inventory while wiggling his toes and fingers. "I think so…" He stopped when his gaze fell upon the sharp metal sticking into Bosco's right side.

"Jesus, Bos…" was all he could manage to say.

Bosco was making a half-hearted attempt to move from his awkward position, but immediately stopped, crying out in pain when he felt the shifting of the metal in his side.

"Don't move, Bosco. DON'T move."

"Davis," Bosco gasped.

"Just stay still. Help will come soon to get us out of here."

Davis glanced down and noticed that blood was increasingly saturating his pants. There was no pain in his leg, which had to mean that the blood was coming from Bosco. A panicked feeling settled upon him as he felt Bosco's chest heaving against his arm in an obvious struggle to breathe.

Sirens began to pierce the air - slowly growing louder as help got closer. Davis silently thanked God for the quick dispatch.

"They're coming, Bosco. Hold on."

Bosco coughed several times, moaning in pain afterwards, "Damn, Davis…"

Emergency crews began to bombard the deformed vehicle.

Bosco fought against the pain to stay awake. If there was one thing that people were always saying, it was to stay awake. So, he decided to latch onto that little knowledge that he had in his attempt to survive the crash. Each breath became more of a struggle; sharp pains were shooting through his head, neck and leg. He could feel blood dripping into his eyes but couldn't do anything about it. Minutes seemed like years as he waited for help.

Bosco heard the familiar sound of the jaws ripping open Davis' side of the car. People were yelling out orders that made no sense to him.

His body was beginning to cramp from being stuck in such an awkward position for so long. He gasped as his muscles burned with every contraction. He could feel hands on his shoulders, holding him from falling on his face when Davis, his support, was removed from the car. Even the small movement forward made him gasp. He coughed a few times in an attempt to clear his lungs. Each cough jarred the metal in his side and he moaned in distress.

"Hold on, sir. We're gonna move you outta here now."

Bosco screamed out in pain as the metal bar was pulled out of his side and replaced by the pressure of the paramedic's hands.

"Get the backboard in from the other side and I'll flip him," the medic called out to his partner, who was on the other side of the car.

Davis watched in horror as Bosco moaned when the medics placed him on the backboard. There was so much blood. His face was barely recognizable through all the red liquid that had poured down from the cuts on the top of his head.

"Get a 'c' collar on him. We gotta move him, now!"

The medics ran Bosco over to the ambulance and Ty followed, a shocked look occupying his face.

"You coming with us?" the one medic asked Davis, before shutting the ambulance doors.

"Yeah," Ty replied, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the fog.

The medic offered his hand to help Davis into the vehicle then slammed the doors behind him.

"Step on it, Marco," he called out to the driver of the bus.

As the medic grabbed a handful of four-by-fours to apply pressure to Bosco's puncture wound, he turned to Davis. "Here," he said as he threw a few gauze patches at Ty, "Put these on that cut on your forehead."

Davis subconsciously pressed the gauze against his minor lac, while constantly keeping his eyes on Bosco.

Bosco flinched as the medic applied full pressure to his wound. Every 30 seconds or so, the medic would have to grab more, indicating to Bosco that he was bleeding pretty badly. The last time the paramedic went by, his jacket caught on Bosco's right leg, causing him to scream out in pain.

He stopped dead in his tracks and shifted his glance from Bosco's eyes, to his leg. Tossing the gauze towards Ty, he yelled out, "Put pressure on the wound with these for me, will ya?"

Ty nodded and arranged the gauze before pressing it into Bosco's side. Bosco gasped and Ty shook his head sympathetically, "Sorry, man."

The medic gently rolled up Bosco's pant-leg and shook his head at what he saw. The leg was obviously broken, the swelling over his shin made it as big as his thigh.

"How bad is it?" Davis asked.

"Definitely broken, but we'll have to wait until they do x-rays before I can tell you how bad it is."

Davis nodded and moved to the side as the medic resumed his position next to Bosco.

Bosco started to gasp and cough as his breathing became more labored.

"How far out are we?" the medic directed his question to the driver.

Before he could respond, Bosco's body began to violently convulse and the medic quickly flipped him around on his stomach. Bosco heaved several times, vomiting blood onto the ambulance floor.

"Two minutes!" the driver called back.

When he was convinced Bosco was done, the medic gently rolled him onto his back and mumbled under his breath, "Two minutes isn't fast enough."

TBC. Please review and let me know if you want more ;)