A Hopeless Wound (8/?)

***

A/N: Okay, I realize it was cruel to leave you hanging like that... I'm sorry, but my mind's been focused elsewhere for the last couple weeks (some of you might guess why ;) ). Don't worry though, I'm NOT going to kill Bosco, I would never do that to him (well, at least in this fic *lol*)

Oh, and of course I haven't seen the last couple episodes so my characters will act differently than they did on the show. Enjoy, and keep the amazing feedback coming!

***

Chapter eight

***

Faith removed the top half of the coffee machine and took out the soggy brown filter, tossing it into the trashcan.

It was still early, but she usually couldn't sleep for more than a few hours per night, and all those months of basically doing nothing had made her eager to get out of bed every morning.

After fixing the kids' lunches and getting the coffee going, she leaned back against the kitchen counter and sighed.

She had the feeling that it was going to be a bad day. She tried to blame it on the headache she'd woken up with but even now, an hour later, it was still there, along with a weird sense of foreboding and a queasiness in the pit of her stomach she only got when she knew something had gone wrong.

With Bosco still on her mind, she pushed herself away from the counter and hoped that the events of the day would prove her wrong.

As soon as Fred left for work, she would go back to Rose's bar to check on him.

Thankfully, her husband hadn't questioned her about being late last night, but knowing he wouldn't understand her need to be there for Bosco, she fully intended to keep her visits a secret, at least for now.

"So, how'd you sleep?" Fred's voice startled her.

"What?"

"I was just wondering if you felt nervous at all. Today's your big day, right?" he said, a faint smile touching his lips.

Faith stared at him for a moment, wondering what exactly he was referring to.

He came closer and took her hand in his. "It worries me, you know. You going back to work. Being a cop again."

Work. Damn. She'd almost forgot about the medical clearance and the meeting with Swersky. She would be back on duty in just a couple hours.

"I've never stopped being a cop, Fred."

"I know. But you're also my wife. And I love you."

Her hands came up to frame his face. "Then you know I need to do this. I can't imagine doing anything else." She gave him a light kiss on the lips. "Be patient, okay?"

Fred nodded.

Faith rested her chin on his shoulder. "Just hold me, will ya?"

He pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear, then slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

"Be careful, okay?"

"I will."

***

When he came back to the conscious world, Bosco immediately wished he'd hadn't.

He couldn't move his arms, which he realized were tied above his head, every breath was an effort and his head was throbbing incessantly. His feet, equally bound, barely touched the ground, and he could feel the plastic tape on his mouth, preventing him from getting enough air in his lungs.

He tried to move, glancing around as much as his uncomfortable position would allow. The room, bathed in near darkness, looked cold and disheveled. He could make out a table and a couple chairs on his right, as well as what appeared to be a cot and a small window almost totally obscured by thick drapes.

Where am I?

His thoughts were muddled as he strained to recall what had happened, the images assaulting his brain so powerful he found himself unable to stop them.

The bar. Chairs toppled. Bottles littering the floor. Blackness all around him. Shards of glass. Blood. Ma!

He pulled hard on the bindings as his last moments of consciousness came flooding back.

Someone had attacked him. Two men. He was so hazy he couldn't remember the bastards' faces, but he remembered the toes of their boots as they kicked him in the ribs.

Who they were and what they wanted was lost to him, but he feared he was going to find it out real soon.

***

Faith's footsteps were quick, more of a run than a walk.

She'd donned jeans and a white button-down shirt, stuck her strawberry-blond hair into a ponytail, then left her apartment and headed out to catch the subway.

After a ten-minute ride, she got off the train and hefted her bag onto her shoulder, trying to get rid of the nervousness that was growing inside her.

Finally arriving at the bar, she pushed through the wooden door into the dimly lit lounge area.

"Hey. How are you feeling?" She said as she spotted who she assumed was Bosco crouched down near one of the tables.

"What?" The man rose to his feet and turned around to face her.

Faith's eyes widened. "Mikey?"

She hadn't seen him in two years, since that night they'd arrested him for possession. He'd lost weight, his cheeks were more sunken than usual, his eyes haunted. He looked a lot older than he actually was.

"Faith? Is that you?" He put the bottle he'd picked up from the floor on the counter and took a step forward.

"Yeah. Where's your brother?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing."

The hairs prickled up on the back of her neck. "What? You mean he's not here?"

Mikey shook his head. "I just came and found the place trashed. What the hell happened?"

Faith lowered her gaze. "I guess he needed to let his anger out." She replied, her voice sad. "I was here last night, and he was pretty upset. I suggested he'd use the bed in the back room and promised I'd be back in the morning."

Her words struck him hard, awakening feelings of guilt and grief he could hardly control. He dragged his palm back and forth across his forehead and moved behind the counter.

"You guys have any idea who killed my mother?"

Faith swallowed. "We're working on it."

"Think it was someone who's going after Maurice?"

"That's a possibility, yeah. But it's too soon to tell."

She watched him pour himself a shot and toss it down. "How are you holding up, Mikey?"

He didn't reply, instead seemed to shrink into himself, his eyes glazed as though he was listening to some inner voice.

"I lost control." He finally said, forcing the words out before he could swallow them back.

"What you mean?"


Mikey stared into his empty glass. "I blamed him for Ma's death. Told him he was the one who got her killed. I... I know it wasn't his fault, but I was angry..."

Faith snatched the bottle away from his shaking hands before he could pour himself another drink. "You still doing drugs?"

"I'm almost clean. I've been off the junk for months. Just a little weed, that's all."

She nodded. "I'm sorry for your loss. Rose was a great woman."

Mikey hung his head and stared down at his feet as he blinked back tears. As he kicked at some shards of glass, he caught a glint of something on the floor a few feet from him and knelt down to see what it was.

"What is that?" Faith asked as she watched his face drain of what little color was left in it.

"My mother's necklace." He whispered as he looked at the small object in his hand.

"Oh my god..."

"What?"

"Bosco... he had it. I saw him put it in his jeans pocket."

They shared a worried look as they both jumped to the same conclusion.

"He'd never leave it here." Faith started. "Unless..."

"... Unless something happened to him."

***

Bosco twisted his body, straining against the ties that held his hands captive. The rope dug painfully into his wrists, and he felt a fresh trickle of moisture running down his arms. Blood.

The wall anchor remained fixed, while his shoulders ached and the muscles in his ribcage began to protest. His fingers, he barely felt at all.

Everything was quiet around him. Whoever had taken him apparently had no intention to rush things and had yet to show up. Were these the same people who'd killed his mother?

Just thinking about her, the pain started again. Nowhere he could actually locate it but real, eating him up inside, and more than he could bear.

Tilting his head up toward the metal anchor, he shifted his bound feet, trying to find some kind of leverage against the wall, but his efforts gave no result. He let out a frustrated cry, but the duct tape smothered the sound, forcing it back into his lungs.

In the silence of the room, a black spider slowly inched its way along the dirty pavement.

As he watched the small animal get closer, alone with his thoughts, Bosco felt an overwhelming need to cry.

***

"Davis, you got a second?" Swersky called as he saw the young man walk through the front doors of the precinct.

"Yes, sir." He quickly jogged up the stairs and approached him. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd heard from Bosco." The Lieutenant spoke in a hushed voice so no one else could hear.

Ty shook his head. "No, I haven't. I wanted to swing by his mother's place to see how he was doing, but my car died and..." he looked at his watch "... I barely made it here."

"That's where you and Sully dropped him last night, right?"

"Yeah." There was a moment of silence. "What's wrong, Lieu?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "We haven't heard from him since he left the station. I was just trying to figure out where to go from there."

Davis nodded but didn't reply, a sense of dread rising within him as his superior's words sunk in. "You want us to drive up there and check on him?" He finally asked, hoping his boss' answer would be a yes.

Swersky let out a breath. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Any word from the detectives?"

He put his hands on his hips. "We got a match on the bullet that killed Mrs. Boscorelli. Remington 700."

"Whoa." Davis frowned as he pictured the weapon in his mind.

"I've got a meeting in one hour." The Lieutenant continued. "But it doesn't look good. And the rifle suggests we may be dealing with a sharpshooter. Listen, I want you to..."

He was interrupted by Faith's voice and turned around to see her walking up to him, followed by a young man he didn't recognize.

"Lieu, I need to talk to you. It's important."

"Yokas." He nodded his head as he acknowledged her.

"Faith?" Surprise spread across Ty's face.

"Hey." She gave him a small smile then pointed to Mikey. "Sir, this is Michael Boscorelli."

Swersky shook the young man's hand and looked at Faith's concerned face. "My office."

"Boss, can I tag along?" Davis asked, sensing that the reason that had brought his friend and Bosco's brother together wasn't a good one.

"Yeah."

***

"I think Bosco's in trouble." Faith said as soon as they all gathered in the Lieutenant's office.

Swersky folded his arms across his chest. "What do you mean?" He asked as Ty listened intently and Mikey stared down at his feet, hands stuffed into his jeans pocket.

"I was at the bar, his mother's bar. Mikey was there too, and we found..."

"Wait a minute." he held one hand out to stop her. "I thought he was at his mother's house."

"What, in Queens?"

The older man turned to Davis, as did Faith, a confused expression on their faces.

Ty swallowed hard. "I... that's where we left him, Sir. Went inside, asked if there was anything we could do and then figured he needed some time alone."

Swersky shook his head. "I should've known he wouldn't stay in the same place all night. So we have no idea where he went after that?"

"That's not correct, Sir." Faith replied, getting the man's full attention. "I went to the bar last night, and found him there. We talked for a while, and then I told him I'd be back in the morning."

The Lieutenant ran a hand through his hair. "I still don't get it. He left Mrs. Boscorelli's home and went to the bar. Why do you think he's in trouble?"

"When I came back this morning," Faith went on, "Michael was already there, but there was no sign of Bosco." She nodded to Mikey who pulled the necklace out of his pocket and showed it to Swersky. "We found this on the floor."

"It belonged to my mother." Bosco's brother explained, a hint of tremor in his voice. Standing there, surrounded by cops, was making him nervous, not to mention the fact that his brother was apparently missing. "Maurice... he would've never left it there."

Ty nodded in agreement, his eyes fixed on the small pendant. "He's right, Lieu."

A hundred questions were running through Swersky's mind as he processed the information. "Okay." He paused for a moment. "Faith, do you remember what time you left the bar?"

"Around midnight, I think."

"So that leaves, what? Seven, eight hours that we can't account for."

"Eight." she stated.

"That's a lot of time." The Lieutenant reasoned.

Davis shook his head. "A lot of things can happen in eight hours."

"Something's wrong, Lieu. I can feel it." Faith said, watching Mikey lean against the wall, nervously fidgeting with the necklace in his hands.

Swersky sat down at his desk. "All right, give me a minute. Let's see what we can do."

TBC...