Disclaimer: I do not own Third Watch.
A/N: Oh My God. The finale rocked. Now I know there will be a huge influx of fics like this to come...but I will give you my reasoning behind this fic at the end. If I give it now...it will ruin the ambiance.
The bullets seem to shatter the glass window one by one. Time is frozen. Life is put on pause. All I hear is the glass cracking, crumbling, and spilling on the floor. All I feel is the knot in my stomach, the lump in my throat, and then, within a matter of seconds, I feel him pull me to the ground.
The glass is pushing itself underneath the thin fabric of my shirt, wanting to viciously scratch away at my pale skin. His weight on top of me pushes me further into the floor, into the glass, and away from the madness.
The sounds suddenly stop. Nearly all of them just stop. The bullets no longer crash through the defeated glass pane, and the shards no longer sprinkle themselves in a deadly path along the floor and furnishing. I swear, it's like everyone is holding his or her breath, yet begging for air just the same.
The dead silence isn't sustained; a chill runs down my achy spine with the next sound of noises that ring in my ears. The cocking of a gun, it's the shooters and the weapons way of preparing itself for another unloading. Not just one, but four of them.
I want desperately to see what's going on, to look up and find it's just a dream. That Mikey never died, that Rose was just fine, and that my hand did not just land in a pool of blood. A small pool of Bosco's blood is collecting right about where my left hand lay, under his left elbow, both of which are pinned by his now slimmer torso.
I don't have time to react though; the onslaught of bullets begins again, this time not only including the machine gun, but several other pistols. Over all the sounds, the gun fire, the whizzing of bullets, the cries and screams, the pounding of blood rushing to my panic stricken head, I hear one thing. Some semblance of a moan penetrates the disaster and the war zone around us again falls silent to only me.
At that moment, it dawns on me, just one of those random thoughts, that Bosco is not all right, nor has he been all right for quite a while now.
A final sound, because for one person, it is final. The thump, the sickening sound of a human being falling helplessly to the floor, most likely dead before his knees have the chance to buckle. The heavily armed man previously poised on the opposing side of the window, now lay in a heap of fabric, blood and weaponry.
As Bosco releases another subconscious moan, through a collective effort he rolls off of me. The pellets of glass and fragmented bullets crunch beneath his weight and suddenly shift.
Finally free of the confines of my partner's protective shield, I now see the unhindered force that brought down the assailant. Maritza Cruz just stands there; she can't seem to bring her armed hands down from their position aiming at the surely dead gunman. She's shaking, either from tears or fear, or quite possibly both, as I'm sure I would be if the contents of my chest didn't choose now to fill with dread.
She moves her head, sways a little to the side, before finally putting her gun away. But I pay no more attention to her, nor do I care to think about where the other shooters are and who else is possibly hurt. My mind is stuck on Bosco's prone form.
"My...fault..." His breath is dull against the stagnant air. His hands press against the floor in a last ditch effort to bare the pain slowly pulling him out of his unconsciousness.
"No, Bosco, no, none of this is your fault," My head hovers about his face but as I finish the sentiment; I turn my face to Cruz. She is now sitting back down, on the opposite side of Bosco. Her facial expression seems almost catatonic, but the emotion behind her eyes is laden with tears.
His eyes have been closed until this point, but it seems that as time passes, he almost becomes more lucid. His body seems to have no need for shock, no time to assess its own injuries; it just needs to continue to function at this point. His eyes spring open as if hit by an epiphany.
His now clear blue eyes dart around the room, searching for any other signs of life, as do mine. It's just Cruz, Bosco, and me. If memory serves me, Ty dashed out, looking for help that was everywhere but undoubtedly of no help right now.
I find myself wrapping my hand around my partner's, still not sure if any of this is registering to anyone in the room. I can't even see where the blood is coming from, and for some reason-even though I know it should be- that isn't my top priority right now.
My hand moves to his wrist as he begins to sit himself up, I try to reason with him, "Are you crazy? You just got shot Bosco!" I say with harshness all too abrasive at the moment. His right hand is spread out on the floor, amongst the glass, and he is holding what look as if the entire weight of his body on that one arm.
He nods his head, almost comically through the tension, "Tw...twice," he hisses, shifting his obviously injured arm across his chest to reveal a bloody slice across his shirt. I try to stifle the gasp that clogs my throat. I know that I'm scared. Hell, he probably knows that I am scared, but as fearful as I am I know he's twice as screwed over today.
Before I open my mouth to chide him once more, Ty, Lieutenant Swersky, and a nameless doctor run through the useless door. With much opposition from the patient, we finally get Bosco onto a gurney and into a room to be examined. They are able to remove his sports jacket and hand it to me before they move him where only "Authorized Personnel" may go.
I stand with my back to the Lieutenant, gripping Bosco's jacket tightly around my arms. He places a slightly rough hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him. He addresses Ty, Cruz and me all at the same time, in an anguish filled exclamation, "What in the hell happened today!?"
A sigh escapes my lips, and I shake my head. I can't talk; I can't comprehend what has happened. Today has just totally sucked.
Only at that moment do I realize I am still in the room. The sound of glass crushing between the sole of my shoe and the linoleum flooring is irritating me, so I sit, facing everyone else. My eyes wander from Lieu, to Ty in the corner, to Cruz standing in front of the others, her head bowed.
"Everything; He took everyone down today..." I trail off in deep thought. We all stand in silence for a moment; none of us feel the need to move.
Then Cruz steps forward and crouches down near a pile of bloody glass, she takes hold of her now empty pistol and rises again. She turns the useless weapon around in her hand, not looking up at anyone else in the room. Then, in a sudden burst of angry and release of energy, she pulls her arm back and violently hurls the metal object at the nearest wall, before turning and walking out the door.
After Lieutenant Swersky insists on the rest of us getting checked out, we sit in the doctors lounge with the others; Sully, Sasha, even Carlos joins as a silent participant in the less then joyous festivities.
"So lets get this straight," Lieu begins, "There's no doubt in anyone's mind that everything that happened today was related, correct?" There is a collective, but silent agreement.
"It was Mann. He separated us and systematically took us down," Cruz speaks up. I, on the other hand, keep to myself. My eyes concentrate outside of the room, looking out a smaller window and toward the door where Bosco's mom lies. I know he'd want me to make her a top priority. A doctor walks out of the room, seemingly calm and unbothered, and I get a sense of reassurance.
My gaze wanders back to the group, my arm still entangled in his coat and crossed over my chest protectively. Almost as if I think if I let it go, I loose him all together.
All eyes simultaneously fall on me. I feel backed into a corner, although literally, I am in a corner; I want to blink and make them go away. No such luck.
"Tried to take us down," I clear my throat over Cruz's ending sentence. Upon my interruption Ty squirms uncomfortably in his seat next to Sasha.
"You think he wants all of us?" He asks apprehensively. It wasn't something any of us really want to answer. Either way we are screwed; did he want to punish Bosco, or the entire 5-5? Bosco had certainly gotten enough punishment for today in everyone's mind, but in light of that, we realize that Mann still hasn't succeeded in killing anyone but Wynn; as of yet. Meaning we are all still prey.
"Every last one," The words escape my mouth individually, as if each were its own statement. Silence claims the room again, but almost on cue, our last one walks in the small, heavy door; with much effort may I add.
Bosco enters the now silent room, and now he has the pleasure of all eyes on him. His left arm is pulled tightly into a well-padded sling. His torso is only covered by a thin white undershirt, under which one could make out the more solid white bandages wrapped around his abdomen just below his rib cage.
After we all gawk for a moment, he sits down in the chair closest to the door in which he just came. My feet move involuntarily toward him and sit in the chair adjacent to him, gently placing his jacket over his shoulders.
"What do you think you're doing, Bos?" I am the first one to find words. His eyes, until now, had been glued on his feet, but when the words flow from my mouth in such a delicate tone, he looks up at me and only me. For a moment it seems he is going to give me an answer, something sincere and that is going to calm my nerves. But he suddenly becomes aware of everyone else in the room and tears his eyes away from mine, tilting his head back against the wall before giving an explanation.
"It wasn't that bad, I told'em it wasn't like I was going to leave the hospital, 'cuz I'm not leaving her," he says almost all in one breath while making a feeble attempt to look out the window and in the direction of Rose's room.
I look at him for a good, long second, before turning only my head toward the rest of the group. We all seem to be searching for words to fight away the silence.
"Ok, We need to think logically," Swersky says, pacing back and forth almost as Bosco had only hours before. His head is cast down, weary to look any of us in the eyes. "There had to have been a leak," he says to himself.
"Yoshi's in the wind," Cruz speaks slowly, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. I look to Bosco and he is slowly shaking his head, either in disbelief or disagreement.
"My dad," he says the word with little meaning, "he left the funeral home like, what..." He looks to me, "maybe ten minutes before the car crashed through it. He's involved, I can feel it." His hands ball into fists and his teeth grind together with rage.
"Damn," Ty bows his head, we all sound and feel defeated. And again all is silent with the realization.
This time it is broken by a light knock on the door; when it opens, Mary Proctor is standing, beckoning Bosco outside with her. You can cut the tension produced by that small gesture with a knife. Bosco pushed himself up with one arm and stands on wobbily legs, he glances back over at me.
I ask him with my eyes if he will be alright, if he wants me to go with me, but he shakes his head. Slowly he walks out the door, closing it lightly behind him.
The next long hours find me in the hospital chapel. I cant really say or think or pray about anything in particular at the moment. I hope just my presence here will bring some relief to someone.
The fact that there is so much to ask for, and to hope for, is kind of unnerving. Who first?
Bosco has been through far more then a enough. Mann has almost taken away his whole family in little over a week. His brother, hopefully not his mother, and he'd almost been killed himself. I don't want to think of what I would be praying for now if he had been just two inches closer to that window.
No mountains too high for you to climb All you have to do is have some climbing faith, oh yeah No rivers too wide for you to make it across All you have to do is believe it when you pray
My family is a shambles as well. Fred, I haven't even called him to tell him what happened. Not that he'd care. But I want my kids back; I want another chance with them. I think today was a sign that I deserve it.
The whole 5-5 needs a chunk of every ones thoughts. Each and every person here will sure as hell need it with Mann hell bent on revenge. It even crosses my mind that Lester and his "family" may need some sort of prayer, but after the hell he put Bosco through, he wasn't even worth Gods help now. Not in my book.
The doors open and another weeping mourner comes in and sits in a back pew. My thoughts are interrupted and it takes all my strength not to stare at her. Somehow my brain doesn't think its possible for anyone else to be heartbroken today. I blink and turn away walking towards the whole set up of tiny red candles. Picking a match out of a book, I strike it and silently light one. For Mikey.
And then you will see the morning will come And everyday will be bright as the sun All of your fears cast them on me I just want you to see...
The clock reads midnight and I realize I have been in the small room for nearly an hour. Again I turn and begin to walk to the stained glass doors at the end of the narrow aisle. I can't bring myself to look at the woman crying her tears in the last, hard, cold, wooden bench. She's too sad to be comforted by a small smile of a little understanding nod.
It takes an effort but my tired body pushed the door open and I walk out into the openness of the ER halls. The place seems to have returned to its usually controlled chaos. The halls are clean or debris, the window shattered by bullets is covers with duct tape and cardboard behind multiple 'police line: do not cross' tape.
I wander past the scene trying to keep my eyes forged forward. My feet stop in front of a door. A seemingly ordinary door, but when I look inside, I see him; my partner at his mother's bedside.
I'll be your cloud up in the sky I'll be your shoulder when you cry I'll hear your voices when you call me I am your angel And when all hope is gone, I'm near No matter how far you are, I'm near It makes no difference who you are I am your angel I am your angel
Her hand is in his, he speaks whatever sacred words he has to offer in her ear. I reach to slowly knock on the door when I hear the soft footsteps of keds on the tiled floor.
When I stop Mary is behind me. We exchange a smile and I look back into the room. Just from his disheveled appearance, although I'm sure we all look that bad, I can tell he's wearing his emotions on his sleeve.
"Is he really okay?" I ask Mary without tearing my eyes away from the touching scene.
I saw your teardrops, and I heard you cry All you need is time Seek me and you shall find (You) You have everything and your still lonely It don't have to be this way Let me show you a better day
"Physically?" I nod at her inquisition. "He lost some blood and did some muscle damage in his arm, but he'll heal," she says warmly still standing behind me. I can tell just by watching the mother-son pair that she feels like an intruder.
"Emotionally, he's a mess," she sighs, "But I think you can tell," she smiles sadly and pats me on the arm.
"He'll be okay," I say under my own breath. I turn just my head to
And then you will see The morning will come And all of your days will be bright as the sun
My hand finally makes contact with the door and I knock lightly, careful not to scare him. Within a few seconds I open the door ajar, "Bos?" He doesn't respond.
I open the door more and let the rest of my body in, closing it behind me. The click of the lock mechanism breaks Bosco from his zoned out state. There is silence once more and I pull a chair next to his. He doesn't move anything but his head as he turns to me.
So all of your fears Just cast them on me How can I make you see...
"I made a promise to her, Faith," he says in a whisper, looking back at her still form, "I promised her I wouldn't," his voice breaks, "She couldn't imagine a son of her dying before her."
I nod in understanding; it's a mother's worst fear.
"I, I promised her that I'd out live her..." he chokes back a sob, I can hear it in the back of his throat.
I'll be your cloud up in the sky I'll be your shoulder when you cry I'll hear your voices when you call me I am your angel And when all hope is gone, I'm near No matter how far you are, I'm near It makes no difference who you are I am your angel I am your angel
He can no longer fight the tears and they slowly make there way down his cheeks and fall onto the white cotton sheet below, "I never really thought she'd die before me, ya know?"
"Oh Bosco..."I want more then anything to be able to comfort him, to be able to take back the last twenty-four hours, to bring his whole family back. But I can't; and my heart aches for him.
He wipes away the new tears spilling from his eyes before continuing.
And when its time to face the storm I'll be right by your side Grace will keep us safe and warm And I know we will survive
He goes to hold her cold hand again, but stops, "I can't, I can't be here anymore."
I clear my throat and look away from the dead woman who I once knew, "I, I don't think Swersky wants us to leave. He's trying to set up a security for us, but right now were safest in the hospital..."
"No, I can't sit here anymore. I can't look at her!" His voice gets louder, either from grief or rage. He stands and moves toward the door.
And when it seems as if Your end is drawing near Don't you dare give up the fight Put your trust beyond the skies
I get up and follow him, "Bosco, where are you going?" He walks quickly to the door and stops. His hand goes for the knob but he can't bring himself to leave the room. Again his hand balls into a fist and he hits the door, causing in to shake slightly in its hinges.
"Bosco," my tone of voice is lower. He rests his head against the cool glass of the window, and he just stands there for a moment. Then slowly and methodically, as if it takes every ounce of energy to do so, he turns his whole body around, now the back of his head against the window.
"God, Faith, she's gone," he flattens his back against the door and slowly slides to the floor. Subconsciously my eyes search of any onlookers before joining him on the floor, my arms gently around his shoulders, and I let him cry on mine.
I'll be your cloud up in the sky I'll be your shoulder when you cry I'll hear your voices when you call me I am your angel And when all hope is gone, I'm near No matter how far you are, I'm near It makes no difference who you are I am your angel I am your angel
A/N: Ok so, I promised a little explanation, but now, i really dont see the need. I really didnt know where this story was going, but its over, and I'm happy with it.
Disclaimer: The song "I am Your Angel" Doesn't not belong to me, it belongs to Celion Dion and I think R Kelly.
A/N: Oh My God. The finale rocked. Now I know there will be a huge influx of fics like this to come...but I will give you my reasoning behind this fic at the end. If I give it now...it will ruin the ambiance.
The bullets seem to shatter the glass window one by one. Time is frozen. Life is put on pause. All I hear is the glass cracking, crumbling, and spilling on the floor. All I feel is the knot in my stomach, the lump in my throat, and then, within a matter of seconds, I feel him pull me to the ground.
The glass is pushing itself underneath the thin fabric of my shirt, wanting to viciously scratch away at my pale skin. His weight on top of me pushes me further into the floor, into the glass, and away from the madness.
The sounds suddenly stop. Nearly all of them just stop. The bullets no longer crash through the defeated glass pane, and the shards no longer sprinkle themselves in a deadly path along the floor and furnishing. I swear, it's like everyone is holding his or her breath, yet begging for air just the same.
The dead silence isn't sustained; a chill runs down my achy spine with the next sound of noises that ring in my ears. The cocking of a gun, it's the shooters and the weapons way of preparing itself for another unloading. Not just one, but four of them.
I want desperately to see what's going on, to look up and find it's just a dream. That Mikey never died, that Rose was just fine, and that my hand did not just land in a pool of blood. A small pool of Bosco's blood is collecting right about where my left hand lay, under his left elbow, both of which are pinned by his now slimmer torso.
I don't have time to react though; the onslaught of bullets begins again, this time not only including the machine gun, but several other pistols. Over all the sounds, the gun fire, the whizzing of bullets, the cries and screams, the pounding of blood rushing to my panic stricken head, I hear one thing. Some semblance of a moan penetrates the disaster and the war zone around us again falls silent to only me.
At that moment, it dawns on me, just one of those random thoughts, that Bosco is not all right, nor has he been all right for quite a while now.
A final sound, because for one person, it is final. The thump, the sickening sound of a human being falling helplessly to the floor, most likely dead before his knees have the chance to buckle. The heavily armed man previously poised on the opposing side of the window, now lay in a heap of fabric, blood and weaponry.
As Bosco releases another subconscious moan, through a collective effort he rolls off of me. The pellets of glass and fragmented bullets crunch beneath his weight and suddenly shift.
Finally free of the confines of my partner's protective shield, I now see the unhindered force that brought down the assailant. Maritza Cruz just stands there; she can't seem to bring her armed hands down from their position aiming at the surely dead gunman. She's shaking, either from tears or fear, or quite possibly both, as I'm sure I would be if the contents of my chest didn't choose now to fill with dread.
She moves her head, sways a little to the side, before finally putting her gun away. But I pay no more attention to her, nor do I care to think about where the other shooters are and who else is possibly hurt. My mind is stuck on Bosco's prone form.
"My...fault..." His breath is dull against the stagnant air. His hands press against the floor in a last ditch effort to bare the pain slowly pulling him out of his unconsciousness.
"No, Bosco, no, none of this is your fault," My head hovers about his face but as I finish the sentiment; I turn my face to Cruz. She is now sitting back down, on the opposite side of Bosco. Her facial expression seems almost catatonic, but the emotion behind her eyes is laden with tears.
His eyes have been closed until this point, but it seems that as time passes, he almost becomes more lucid. His body seems to have no need for shock, no time to assess its own injuries; it just needs to continue to function at this point. His eyes spring open as if hit by an epiphany.
His now clear blue eyes dart around the room, searching for any other signs of life, as do mine. It's just Cruz, Bosco, and me. If memory serves me, Ty dashed out, looking for help that was everywhere but undoubtedly of no help right now.
I find myself wrapping my hand around my partner's, still not sure if any of this is registering to anyone in the room. I can't even see where the blood is coming from, and for some reason-even though I know it should be- that isn't my top priority right now.
My hand moves to his wrist as he begins to sit himself up, I try to reason with him, "Are you crazy? You just got shot Bosco!" I say with harshness all too abrasive at the moment. His right hand is spread out on the floor, amongst the glass, and he is holding what look as if the entire weight of his body on that one arm.
He nods his head, almost comically through the tension, "Tw...twice," he hisses, shifting his obviously injured arm across his chest to reveal a bloody slice across his shirt. I try to stifle the gasp that clogs my throat. I know that I'm scared. Hell, he probably knows that I am scared, but as fearful as I am I know he's twice as screwed over today.
Before I open my mouth to chide him once more, Ty, Lieutenant Swersky, and a nameless doctor run through the useless door. With much opposition from the patient, we finally get Bosco onto a gurney and into a room to be examined. They are able to remove his sports jacket and hand it to me before they move him where only "Authorized Personnel" may go.
I stand with my back to the Lieutenant, gripping Bosco's jacket tightly around my arms. He places a slightly rough hand on my shoulder and turns me around to face him. He addresses Ty, Cruz and me all at the same time, in an anguish filled exclamation, "What in the hell happened today!?"
A sigh escapes my lips, and I shake my head. I can't talk; I can't comprehend what has happened. Today has just totally sucked.
Only at that moment do I realize I am still in the room. The sound of glass crushing between the sole of my shoe and the linoleum flooring is irritating me, so I sit, facing everyone else. My eyes wander from Lieu, to Ty in the corner, to Cruz standing in front of the others, her head bowed.
"Everything; He took everyone down today..." I trail off in deep thought. We all stand in silence for a moment; none of us feel the need to move.
Then Cruz steps forward and crouches down near a pile of bloody glass, she takes hold of her now empty pistol and rises again. She turns the useless weapon around in her hand, not looking up at anyone else in the room. Then, in a sudden burst of angry and release of energy, she pulls her arm back and violently hurls the metal object at the nearest wall, before turning and walking out the door.
After Lieutenant Swersky insists on the rest of us getting checked out, we sit in the doctors lounge with the others; Sully, Sasha, even Carlos joins as a silent participant in the less then joyous festivities.
"So lets get this straight," Lieu begins, "There's no doubt in anyone's mind that everything that happened today was related, correct?" There is a collective, but silent agreement.
"It was Mann. He separated us and systematically took us down," Cruz speaks up. I, on the other hand, keep to myself. My eyes concentrate outside of the room, looking out a smaller window and toward the door where Bosco's mom lies. I know he'd want me to make her a top priority. A doctor walks out of the room, seemingly calm and unbothered, and I get a sense of reassurance.
My gaze wanders back to the group, my arm still entangled in his coat and crossed over my chest protectively. Almost as if I think if I let it go, I loose him all together.
All eyes simultaneously fall on me. I feel backed into a corner, although literally, I am in a corner; I want to blink and make them go away. No such luck.
"Tried to take us down," I clear my throat over Cruz's ending sentence. Upon my interruption Ty squirms uncomfortably in his seat next to Sasha.
"You think he wants all of us?" He asks apprehensively. It wasn't something any of us really want to answer. Either way we are screwed; did he want to punish Bosco, or the entire 5-5? Bosco had certainly gotten enough punishment for today in everyone's mind, but in light of that, we realize that Mann still hasn't succeeded in killing anyone but Wynn; as of yet. Meaning we are all still prey.
"Every last one," The words escape my mouth individually, as if each were its own statement. Silence claims the room again, but almost on cue, our last one walks in the small, heavy door; with much effort may I add.
Bosco enters the now silent room, and now he has the pleasure of all eyes on him. His left arm is pulled tightly into a well-padded sling. His torso is only covered by a thin white undershirt, under which one could make out the more solid white bandages wrapped around his abdomen just below his rib cage.
After we all gawk for a moment, he sits down in the chair closest to the door in which he just came. My feet move involuntarily toward him and sit in the chair adjacent to him, gently placing his jacket over his shoulders.
"What do you think you're doing, Bos?" I am the first one to find words. His eyes, until now, had been glued on his feet, but when the words flow from my mouth in such a delicate tone, he looks up at me and only me. For a moment it seems he is going to give me an answer, something sincere and that is going to calm my nerves. But he suddenly becomes aware of everyone else in the room and tears his eyes away from mine, tilting his head back against the wall before giving an explanation.
"It wasn't that bad, I told'em it wasn't like I was going to leave the hospital, 'cuz I'm not leaving her," he says almost all in one breath while making a feeble attempt to look out the window and in the direction of Rose's room.
I look at him for a good, long second, before turning only my head toward the rest of the group. We all seem to be searching for words to fight away the silence.
"Ok, We need to think logically," Swersky says, pacing back and forth almost as Bosco had only hours before. His head is cast down, weary to look any of us in the eyes. "There had to have been a leak," he says to himself.
"Yoshi's in the wind," Cruz speaks slowly, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. I look to Bosco and he is slowly shaking his head, either in disbelief or disagreement.
"My dad," he says the word with little meaning, "he left the funeral home like, what..." He looks to me, "maybe ten minutes before the car crashed through it. He's involved, I can feel it." His hands ball into fists and his teeth grind together with rage.
"Damn," Ty bows his head, we all sound and feel defeated. And again all is silent with the realization.
This time it is broken by a light knock on the door; when it opens, Mary Proctor is standing, beckoning Bosco outside with her. You can cut the tension produced by that small gesture with a knife. Bosco pushed himself up with one arm and stands on wobbily legs, he glances back over at me.
I ask him with my eyes if he will be alright, if he wants me to go with me, but he shakes his head. Slowly he walks out the door, closing it lightly behind him.
The next long hours find me in the hospital chapel. I cant really say or think or pray about anything in particular at the moment. I hope just my presence here will bring some relief to someone.
The fact that there is so much to ask for, and to hope for, is kind of unnerving. Who first?
Bosco has been through far more then a enough. Mann has almost taken away his whole family in little over a week. His brother, hopefully not his mother, and he'd almost been killed himself. I don't want to think of what I would be praying for now if he had been just two inches closer to that window.
No mountains too high for you to climb All you have to do is have some climbing faith, oh yeah No rivers too wide for you to make it across All you have to do is believe it when you pray
My family is a shambles as well. Fred, I haven't even called him to tell him what happened. Not that he'd care. But I want my kids back; I want another chance with them. I think today was a sign that I deserve it.
The whole 5-5 needs a chunk of every ones thoughts. Each and every person here will sure as hell need it with Mann hell bent on revenge. It even crosses my mind that Lester and his "family" may need some sort of prayer, but after the hell he put Bosco through, he wasn't even worth Gods help now. Not in my book.
The doors open and another weeping mourner comes in and sits in a back pew. My thoughts are interrupted and it takes all my strength not to stare at her. Somehow my brain doesn't think its possible for anyone else to be heartbroken today. I blink and turn away walking towards the whole set up of tiny red candles. Picking a match out of a book, I strike it and silently light one. For Mikey.
And then you will see the morning will come And everyday will be bright as the sun All of your fears cast them on me I just want you to see...
The clock reads midnight and I realize I have been in the small room for nearly an hour. Again I turn and begin to walk to the stained glass doors at the end of the narrow aisle. I can't bring myself to look at the woman crying her tears in the last, hard, cold, wooden bench. She's too sad to be comforted by a small smile of a little understanding nod.
It takes an effort but my tired body pushed the door open and I walk out into the openness of the ER halls. The place seems to have returned to its usually controlled chaos. The halls are clean or debris, the window shattered by bullets is covers with duct tape and cardboard behind multiple 'police line: do not cross' tape.
I wander past the scene trying to keep my eyes forged forward. My feet stop in front of a door. A seemingly ordinary door, but when I look inside, I see him; my partner at his mother's bedside.
I'll be your cloud up in the sky I'll be your shoulder when you cry I'll hear your voices when you call me I am your angel And when all hope is gone, I'm near No matter how far you are, I'm near It makes no difference who you are I am your angel I am your angel
Her hand is in his, he speaks whatever sacred words he has to offer in her ear. I reach to slowly knock on the door when I hear the soft footsteps of keds on the tiled floor.
When I stop Mary is behind me. We exchange a smile and I look back into the room. Just from his disheveled appearance, although I'm sure we all look that bad, I can tell he's wearing his emotions on his sleeve.
"Is he really okay?" I ask Mary without tearing my eyes away from the touching scene.
I saw your teardrops, and I heard you cry All you need is time Seek me and you shall find (You) You have everything and your still lonely It don't have to be this way Let me show you a better day
"Physically?" I nod at her inquisition. "He lost some blood and did some muscle damage in his arm, but he'll heal," she says warmly still standing behind me. I can tell just by watching the mother-son pair that she feels like an intruder.
"Emotionally, he's a mess," she sighs, "But I think you can tell," she smiles sadly and pats me on the arm.
"He'll be okay," I say under my own breath. I turn just my head to
And then you will see The morning will come And all of your days will be bright as the sun
My hand finally makes contact with the door and I knock lightly, careful not to scare him. Within a few seconds I open the door ajar, "Bos?" He doesn't respond.
I open the door more and let the rest of my body in, closing it behind me. The click of the lock mechanism breaks Bosco from his zoned out state. There is silence once more and I pull a chair next to his. He doesn't move anything but his head as he turns to me.
So all of your fears Just cast them on me How can I make you see...
"I made a promise to her, Faith," he says in a whisper, looking back at her still form, "I promised her I wouldn't," his voice breaks, "She couldn't imagine a son of her dying before her."
I nod in understanding; it's a mother's worst fear.
"I, I promised her that I'd out live her..." he chokes back a sob, I can hear it in the back of his throat.
I'll be your cloud up in the sky I'll be your shoulder when you cry I'll hear your voices when you call me I am your angel And when all hope is gone, I'm near No matter how far you are, I'm near It makes no difference who you are I am your angel I am your angel
He can no longer fight the tears and they slowly make there way down his cheeks and fall onto the white cotton sheet below, "I never really thought she'd die before me, ya know?"
"Oh Bosco..."I want more then anything to be able to comfort him, to be able to take back the last twenty-four hours, to bring his whole family back. But I can't; and my heart aches for him.
He wipes away the new tears spilling from his eyes before continuing.
And when its time to face the storm I'll be right by your side Grace will keep us safe and warm And I know we will survive
He goes to hold her cold hand again, but stops, "I can't, I can't be here anymore."
I clear my throat and look away from the dead woman who I once knew, "I, I don't think Swersky wants us to leave. He's trying to set up a security for us, but right now were safest in the hospital..."
"No, I can't sit here anymore. I can't look at her!" His voice gets louder, either from grief or rage. He stands and moves toward the door.
And when it seems as if Your end is drawing near Don't you dare give up the fight Put your trust beyond the skies
I get up and follow him, "Bosco, where are you going?" He walks quickly to the door and stops. His hand goes for the knob but he can't bring himself to leave the room. Again his hand balls into a fist and he hits the door, causing in to shake slightly in its hinges.
"Bosco," my tone of voice is lower. He rests his head against the cool glass of the window, and he just stands there for a moment. Then slowly and methodically, as if it takes every ounce of energy to do so, he turns his whole body around, now the back of his head against the window.
"God, Faith, she's gone," he flattens his back against the door and slowly slides to the floor. Subconsciously my eyes search of any onlookers before joining him on the floor, my arms gently around his shoulders, and I let him cry on mine.
I'll be your cloud up in the sky I'll be your shoulder when you cry I'll hear your voices when you call me I am your angel And when all hope is gone, I'm near No matter how far you are, I'm near It makes no difference who you are I am your angel I am your angel
A/N: Ok so, I promised a little explanation, but now, i really dont see the need. I really didnt know where this story was going, but its over, and I'm happy with it.
Disclaimer: The song "I am Your Angel" Doesn't not belong to me, it belongs to Celion Dion and I think R Kelly.