The hunt ends.

Thank you all for your feedback on this story. Please bear with me, as there may be a slight lapse between this one and the new one I'm currently working on.

Exits are located to the left and rear of the auditorium. Please proceed to them in a civil manner at the end of this show. Thank you for watching and have a good night.

It was all she could do not to snap at Andy O'Shea when he entered the locker room fifteen minutes before the start of shift. His attitude and constant stubborn affirmations that he didn't need a partner were really starting to irritate her. She had almost decided to go back to riding with Bosco just so she wouldn't have to put up with any more of O'Shea's crap, but as soon as she got a good look at him as he passed her, she reconsidered. He looked exhausted. The lines on his face had been getting more and more evident over the past week, and they stood out like highway alert lights now. Faith felt her anger at him dissipate as she watched him drop wearily onto the bench in front of his locker. Had he been staying up all night, watching the men who were watching his apartment and waiting in case something happened? Even though he had two uniformed cops standing outside his front door all night? He must really have nothing left, except for his family.

"Five-Five David's missing a passenger," Bosco said.

"I know."

"So you up for a few rounds of shakin' down dealers? We'll nab Morris before long if we rattle the cages enough."

She was sorely tempted by the offer. Truth be told, she missed riding with him. As mad as she had been at Bosco, he was the only one who knew her inside and out, and knew when enough was enough. O'Shea had no idea where the line in the sand was, or – she thought – that such a line even existed. Rejoining Five-Five David would fill the void that had opened up inside her. On a certain level, Bosco was her other half. She would never say it, but she loved him as much as a friend could love another friend.

"Whaddaya say?"

Faith looked over in O'Shea's direction, but he pretended like he didn't notice. She had to choose between the two of them and that irritated her. On the one hand, she should go back to Bosco and leave O'Shea on his own. She was far more comfortable with her usual partner. On the other, however, she knew that O'Shea was vastly unfit for the beat by himself. The incident on 110th and Park came readily to mind. He would easily get himself killed if he was left to work alone. She was sure of it and Swersky probably was as well. "I'll go run it by Lieu and see what he says," she said, and hoped that Bosco didn't see through the flimsy lie.

He broke immediately into a grin. "Great. See you in roll, then?"

"Yeah." Faith shut her locker and tried to act like she didn't see the dark shadow of hurt and perhaps even betrayal roll across O'Shea's face. Maybe he was just as conflicted as she was and dreaded the idea of working alone, even though he balked at showing his gratitude for having a partner. If that was the case, all she felt was sympathy for him.

"Hey, Lieu. Do you have a minute?"

Swersky looked equally as tired as O'Shea. "What's up, Yokas?"

"I've got a problem, sir."

He was stonily silent as he watched her head out to the parking lot with her partner. It figured that she'd decide to ride with him. After all they had been through together, she was riding with him. What the hell was wrong with her, wrong with him, that had made this whole thing come about?

"Hey, are you coming?"

"Yeah. Gimme a minute." He tightened the gunbelt and stood up. Instead of an experienced and capable partner, he was stuck with the rookie. Just what he wanted.

Swersky looked over as the two hastily-paired cops strode past the desk. "Hold up a minute, guys. You all right?"

He nodded. "Never better, Lieu."

"Okay," Swersky said, clearly unconvinced.

"Come on, Ingles. The bad guys won't come to us, so we gotta go to them."

"We got him, we got him, we got him!"

Wickes stared at his partner. "What the hell are you talking about? We got who?"

"Morris. The team sitting on the place by Marcus Garvey Park just called in. He entered the house not five minutes ago. I've already contacted Lieutenant Frye. A team will be on-scene within ten minutes. All we have to do is contain the area."

"Then what the hell are we wasting time sitting around here for? Get our muscle teams onboard. Have 'em meet up with us two blocks from the house, we'll wait for ESU there. I'll get Harris and Spindelli. Move it!"

The two detectives dashed off to complete their separate errands, their faces reflecting a childlike joy. The hunt was finally over.

"Five-Five Charlie, David, and Edward, 10-1 your command."

Bosco reached immediately for the phone mounted on the dashboard. "Five-Five David, in regard to the 10-1." He listened for a moment, then broke into a broad grin. "We're right on it."

"Right on what?"

"They got Morris cornered down by Garvey Park. We're gonna meet the detectives two blocks down and wait for ESU." He replied, pushing down on the gas pedal. "Tighten your seatbelt."

Andy O'Shea whooped like an Indian when he hung up the cruiser phone. "Finally! I get another shot at that blackguard!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Morris. He's holed up down near East 123rd and Madison. ESU is on their way, but they'll be too late again. Ain't no way I'm lettin' 'em get there first."

"Are you crazy!"

"Nope. Just driven." O'Shea said and didn't even blink when he sped right through a red light.

"You got here fast!"

The surprised statement tumbled from Bosco and O'Shea at nearly the same time when they emerged from their respective cruisers.

"This is my collar!"

"No way, it's mine!"

Faith looked at the two of them in startled amusement. "Have you two suddenly taken classes in synchronised talking?"

The two men spun at the same time to glare at her. She had to laugh. Their expressions were mirrors of each other. Ingles stood off to the side, smiling nervously. He wasn't on the same level as the three other officers and he knew it.

"When do the detectives get here?"

"Whenever they decide to get off their asses and drive down."

"You mean like right now?" Wickes asked casually. "Glad you four could make it. Where's Sullivan and Davis?"

"They caught a hit and run down on 2nd Avenue. They probably won't make it."

"Ah."

"How far out is the ESU team?" Faith asked.

"At last check, they were on their way. Probably about six or seven minutes."

"That's not too long."

Asheby's cell phone chirruped and he answered it. His partner rolled his eyes. "He's a slave to that thing."

"Really? When? Dammit! Okay, thanks." Asheby closed the phone and cursed viciously. "Morris just left the house, heading west on East 123rd."

O'Shea was already moving for his cruiser. "Ain't no use in waitin' for ESU. Come on! We gotta roll."

"O'Shea! Boscorelli! What the hell are you doing?" Asheby demanded. The two officers were in their cruisers and didn't hear him. Frustrated, he looked at his partner for support but Wickes only shrugged.

"It's their game, Mark. We just clean up the mess."

"Are we gonna follow them or not?"

"Of course. Are you gonna stand there or are you gonna drive?"

The two RMPs had disappeared around the corner. "What are we waiting for?"

"There he is!"

"Cut him off before he gets to the corner!"

O'Shea slammed on the brakes and bounded out of the cruiser, his partner right behind. Morris had seen the two RMPs approaching and bolted, giving himself a comfortable lead on the four pursuing officers. He was heading straight for the park.

"Boscorelli, go left!"

For once, Bosco obeyed the older cop without question or argument. They both wanted Morris too badly. O'Shea sprinted right and almost knocked over a kid on a skateboard. His partner followed, bypassing a sign that said, 'Watch out for other pedestrians.'

"He's heading your way, O'Shea!" Bosco called over the radio.

"I see him!"

Morris did too, and did an abrupt change of direction. He was now heading away from both pairs of cops, toward the centre of the park. O'Shea leapt over a park bench and found himself running side by side with Boscorelli.

"Fancy meetin' you here."

"You too."

"First one to sack him gets the collar."

Bosco grinned despite the strain on his face. "You're on." He pushed himself faster, pulling ahead of the Irishman. Faith and Ingles were right on their heels, neither gaining nor losing ground.

"Son-of-a-bitch!"

"Look out!"

The two cops ducked for cover as Morris opened fire on them as he ran. Somebody screamed over the distinctive heavy blam of the forty-five. Faith hit the ground and covered her head until the brief burst of gunfire ended.

"I'm shot! I'm shot! Oh God oh God, I'm hit!"

"Ingles is down!"

"Dammit!"

"10-13, 10-13, Marcus Garvey Park. Officer shot, repeat, we have an officer shot! We need EMS on a rush!"

"We got him! Get Morris!"

"You're gonna be okay, Ingles. Just hang in there."

"Go after him, dammit!"

Faith, Bosco, and O'Shea sprinted off down the path after their quarry, leaving Wickes and Asheby with the wounded Ingles. He didn't have that much of a lead on them, but it might not matter if he had managed to hide.

"Look out!" O'Shea shouted over the echoing bang.

The tree they were passing suddenly splintered, showering them with bark. At least they were close.

"There he is!"

"Give it up, Morris! There's nowhere to run!"

Morris appeared from behind a thick stand of bushes, his gun covering the three cops. "Of course there is. I'm just choosing not to run anymore."

"Forcin' a showdown, then, huh? How brave of you." Bosco sneered.

"Definitely."

"It's over, you bastard. We got you."

"So sure of that."

"Aye. Definitely." O'Shea said.

"You want me? Come and get me, then."

"Put the gun down and nobody needs to get hurt."

Morris sneered at Yokas, keeping his gun levelled at O'Shea. The Irishman stared down the barrel of the powerful handgun without blinking. Fear was clawing for control, but he was too determined to bring this bastard down to show it.

"Just drop the gun. There's no need to take this any further."

"That's what you think." Morris growled. "You cops are all the same. You run for cover every time someone fights back. That's all you are. Cowards."

Yokas ignored his attempt to rile her. "Drop the gun. ESU's on their way, and they take no prisoners."

"You think I give a damn? There are no prisoners in this war. Only you cops and us. No quarter will be asked or offered."

"Drop the bloody gun, dammit. I'd like nothin' better than to put a hole 'tween your eyes, but there's a higher judgement waitin' for ya." O'Shea took a quarter-step forward. "Make it easier on yourself and give up."

"Screw you, Mick. I don't give up to anyone. Ever. Let alone some washed-up cop hangin' onto The Job 'cause he's too stupid to let go. Can't even keep his partner alive. Man, you're pathetic, a disgrace to the shield."

O'Shea's face went red where it wasn't discoloured from fading bruises. He tightened his grip on his gun and swallowed hard to keep his temper from taking over. The situation was tense enough without him making it worse. Yokas on his left side and Boscorelli on his right shifted uneasily, sensing his silent fight for self-control. "What the hell do you know about disgracing the shield? You lasted but two weeks on The Job, punk. Sellin' Ecstasy outta your cruiser while on duty is real slick."

"Hey. Do whatcha gotta do."

"Agreed."

"Andy, don't – !"

The blur of motion on his left side was Yokas reaching out to grab his sleeve. He was already half a step beyond her grasp. It was time to settle the score, one way or another.

Time screeched to a near-stop as O'Shea moved forward. Faith's fingers tightened on empty air and she heard the uneven thumps of her boots on the concrete path. She realised, half a second too late, that she'd lowered her gun to grab for O'Shea's jacket. In the heartbeat it took for her acknowledge the error, Morris had noticed and shifted his aim. Her throat felt like someone had shoved burnt cotton down it. She saw Morris' finger curling, tightening on the trigger as he double-checked his aim point. He had her dead to rights, and everyone knew it. Somebody screamed as Bosco sprinted forward in a valiant effort to bring the dealer down in a full-body tackle. O'Shea was already launching himself at Morris, seeking to beat Bosco to the tackle.

"Noo!"

Morris jumped back and fired. Faith knew those bullets were going to slam into her in less than a tenth of a second. She braced herself for the crushing impacts, squeezing her eyes shut as all her muscles tensed. Nothing happened. For a split second, she thought she was already on the ground, and at the actual moment of impact she had blacked out. Then there several shots were fired from somewhere very close by and she realised she was still on her feet. She opened her eyes.

"Bastard!"

Bosco had opened fire on Morris. The Ecstasy dealer took the shots in the chest and side. He twitched as he went down, but kept a grip on his weapon. The muzzle of the gun came up and Morris offered the two officers a taunting smile.

"Gotcha."

A final shot rang out and Morris froze in surprise, his eyes fixed on the two officers standing over him. The forty-five slipped out of nerveless fingers to clatter on the path. His body was still at last.

"No, I got you." O'Shea said, rising unsteadily to his knees. "Bastard."

What was he doing on the ground? Hadn't he been leaping at Morris like a madman, casting aside yet again all concerns of his own safety? Faith holstered her sidearm as she stared at the downed officer. The shots, the bullets that never slammed against her and sliced through her like a hot knife through butter. Where had they gone? Surely Morris hadn't missed. Sudden understanding came to her. You careless, chivalrous son-of-a-bitch. I owe you one. Again.

"You okay?"

"Aye."

Faith and Bosco helped the Irishman to his feet. "Where'd you get hit?"

O'Shea probed the front of his shirt until his fingers found the round holes in the fabric. "Dead centre. Boy's a damn good shot. I'd be down for good without me vest." He winced and leaned on Bosco. "That'll hurt like nothin' else for a few days though."

"Good save, by the way."

"All part of The Job. We're better off with him dead anyway. He'd be back on the street within two years if the courts had their way." O'Shea said. "Man, them forty-fives got real stoppin' power. If I weren't wearin' this damn vest, I'd not be gettin' up too soon."

"I think maybe you shouldn't be standing right now," Bosco observed when O'Shea's knees buckled.

"Aye, maybe." O'Shea winced.

"I thought he had me."

"Aye, he would've, but for a wee surprise I threw at him."

"I owe you another one. Thanks, Andy."

"Weren't nothin'," O'Shea said as Bosco accidentally bumped the other man's ribs. "Hey, easy! I ain't a bloody rag doll."

"Sorry." Bosco told him, as Faith reached for the radio mike clipped to her jacket. "Five-Five Edward to Central. Request EMS to Marcus Garvey Park, we have an officer shot."

"Ten-four, Eddie. Injury critical?"

"Negative. Make it vest-stop injury. Also 10-47. Suspect down."

The dispatcher sounded relieved. "Ten-four. EMS and detectives en route, EMS will be on scene in three minutes."

"Just relax, Andy. There's a bus on the way."

O'Shea grinned. "Tell 'em to take their time, I need a nap anyway."

The station house was a riot of noise when the three officers entered. Desk officers, detectives, and assorted other personnel burst into cheers at the sight of the trio and people came forward to shake their hands or slap them on the back. Bosco grinned at the sea of faces rolling around him, but inwardly all he wanted was to be left alone. Sure, he had helped take down the leader of an Ecstasy ring and put the precinct at ease again after the rash of violence that had erupted. Normally he would be drinking up the praise and recognition, but all he wanted right then was a cold beer and the okay to go home for the night. Truth be told, he hadn't done much at all the past couple of days. It had been Faith and O'Shea, out there on the street, busting the heads that made all this possible. If it had been the two of them, like it always had been, he'd feel different.

Lieutenant Swersky forced his way through the crush of bodies. "You three, come with me."

The three cops followed him through the crowd to the relative quiet of his office. Swersky shut the door behind them.

"I just wanted to congratulate you three on the outstanding job you've done over the past two weeks. It's been absolute hell with that bastard on the loose. A lot of people higher up are glad he's been dealt with." The lieutenant opened a folder on his desk. "I'm putting all three of you up for the Medal for Valour, and you, O'Shea, for the Purple Shield. What you've done in the past several days is nothing short of remarkable. A lot of folks owe you a debt of gratitude."

"When, when is McKenna's funeral, Lieu?"

"Next week, Monday, I think. The Two-Oh will be more than happy to have you guys there. My only regret is that we couldn't have bagged Morris sooner."

"Us too," Yokas said.

"Great job, all three of you. O'Shea, you know the drill. Three days off for you. Enjoy it, you've certainly earned a break."

"Thank you, sir."

"Go on, beat it. Take the rest of the night off. All of you." Swersky said.

"Yes sir."

The overall mood was considerably lighter when they emerged from the lieutenant's office. It felt good to know that they had done their jobs and taken a dangerous entity off the street. Andy O'Shea surveyed the station house floor, breathing in deep of the multitude of smells and odours he had come to know over the years. This was his second home. He hated like hell to have to leave it, but the time had finally come to move on.

"Either of you up for a coffee or something?"

"Nah, I'm good, thanks."

"Me too."

O'Shea nodded. "Okay."

"Hey O'Shea! We're goin' to grab a beer at Haggerty's after shift. Wanna come?"

"I'll think about it!" O'Shea called back.

"Party starts at eleven thirty."

"I'll see what I can do. All depends on what the two ladies of the house say."

The detectives chuckled and went back to work.

"Yokas, it's been good workin' with you. I've missed havin' a partner."

"Yeah, it was fun. We'll have to do it again sometime."

"Yeah."

Yokas stuck out her hand. "Thanks for watching my back out there."

"Thanks for watchin' mine. It ain't easy to keep up out there, but you're right on top of things." Andy shook the proffered hand, his grip firm. "Keep up the good work. You're top-notch."

"Thanks."

"Boscorelli, been an interesting experience workin' with you too. You remind me of how I used to be when I was younger. You'd do well to cut people more slack, but you've got potential. Keep your eyes open and don't stop learning. That goes for both of you. It stops bein' fun when you stop learning."

"You bet, thanks."

"So you're really gonna retire?"

"Aye. The City belongs to you guys now. The old guard is too few these days to do The Job the way it should be done."

"You'll be missed."

O'Shea shook his head. "Not as much as some others. I'll see you around."

"Good luck, Andy."

Boscorelli turned to Yokas. "You feel like being Five-Five David again?"

She grinned. "Yeah, sounds good. First thing tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

O'Shea fitted his hat onto his head and straightened his dark blue clip-on tie. The younger officers didn't notice him walk away. Sergeant Christopher only nodded at him as the Irishman crossed the bustling station house floor. He paused before opening the house doors. Brilliant sunlight reflected off windshields and mirrors of the cruisers parked along the curb. He let out a long breath, crossed himself quickly, and pushed open the glass door. Passing from dark to light, once again. Only this time, he was ending his last tour.

The light was back at the end of the tunnel.

Faith, Bosco, Davis, and Sully stood outside the apartment building that O'Shea lived in, gazing up at the rows of windows and wondering which one belonged to their fellow officer. They had followed the Irishman from the station house, but had not been able to catch up to him before he entered the building.

"Should we go in?"

"And say what?"

Davis shrugged. "I don't know. Something."

"What can we possibly say to him that will make this any easier for him?" Sully asked his partner. "Leaving The Job is tough for a guy who's spent most of his life doing it."

"Well we can't just leave him by himself."

The statement hung over the quartet like a smothering blanket. They all knew that leaving O'Shea alone was a bad idea, but each of them was at a loss as to how to approach him.

"We oughta at least see if he's okay."

"And how would we do that? The front door's got an automatic lock on it. We'd need to get buzzed in by somebody." Bosco said.

"So what's the harm in buzzing his apartment?"

No one offered a response. Bosco shifted from foot to foot.

"I want a drink. The rest of the shift is down at Haggerty's."

"Shut up, Bosco."

"What? We could all use a couple of beers. It's been a helluva week."

Faith spitted him with an annoyed glare. "If you want to go so badly, be my guest. I'm not leaving until Andy comes out."

"He won't do that until somebody goes to get him." Bosco countered.

"Wait, what's that?" Davis tilted his head to the side, listening intently. The two arguing partners fell silent to listen as well. Strange, vibrating notes wafted down from the roof of the apartment building. A warbling echo that was unmistakable.

"Bagpipes." Sully whispered. "He's playing Taps."

The group stared up at the rooftop, letting the heart-piercing chords float down to them. All along the street, people paused to look up toward the source of the haunting music. Activity and time itself, it seemed, was suspended for a handful of seconds. A last, lingering high note echoed through the alleys and between buildings long after the bagpiper on the roof finished playing. Somebody down the street coughed, and the spell was broken.

"I think we should go up now."

"No. Let's leave him. I think he'll be all right."

"Are you sure?"

Sully nodded. "Yeah. He's got his kids with him. He'll be okay now. They won't let him feel alone." The foursome walked away down the sidewalk, leaving behind the moment of wonder they had shared as the bagpipes played.

"Play another, Daddy."

"Who for?"

"Uncle Luke."

He drew in a deep breath and began to play. For Uncle Luke it was. Heather and Sarah sat quietly on their little folding chairs as he played. He felt like he was watching an era draw to a close as he watched the four cops disappear around a corner down on the street. That they had been there meant a lot. He played the pipes for them, for the precinct, and for all the officers who had fallen. His eyes misted as he played for every officer in every city across the country.

God bless the Thin Blue Line.

Finis!

10-47 – Request Medical Examiner (Maine State Police)