This came to me as I was watching the opening credits of tonight's episode. The part right after the beginning, where the music kicks in as Bosco kicks in the door made me miss him so much more.

Anyway, here's a short little blurb that I thought of. DISCLAIMER: I have no claim to Third Watch, its characters, etc.

The Vigil

Faith sat in the chair alongside Bosco's bed. The steady beat of the heart monitor and the rhythmic sound of the air being forced into his lungs to keep the circulating blood oxygenated, keeping him alive while his body fought to heal was the only sound she heard.

She looked from his bandaged face to the rising and falling of his chest and back to his face again. She reached out with one hand and folded her fingers around his limp hand, the thumb of her other hand absently rubbing against the smooth surfaces of the new piece of gold. She wanted him to feel that she was there – in case he couldn't hear her.

"I really wish you could have been there," she said quietly to him. "I asked Fred to bring the kids, but they weren't there. I waited for them out front until the last possible minute – hoping that they were just running late or stuck in traffic," she said sadly, looking back at his face as if he'd be looking at her and offering her advice.

She had no one now - no one that cared about what happened to her. Her heart ached with how much she missed her kids. Her lawyer was still trying to find out where Fred was keeping the kids. She'd tried calling Emily's cell phone, but the number was no longer in service. Fred had probably gotten her a new number – but why hadn't Emily and Charlie tried to contact her? What was he telling them that would keep them away from her?

"You were always there, Bos. Always," she said aloud as a tear fell down her cheek. "I could always count on you – even after the way I treated you when I got shot. That was wrong. You made a mistake," she said, her voice catching in her throat as her tears increased. "I'm so sorry I did that to you, Bos," she said, squeezing his hand a little tighter in her own. "You saved my life down there in the E.R. We're partners," she said, and her mind drifted back over their years together.

She saw them at the Academy, him offering to shoot her targets if she'd give him the answers to some of the test questions. She wouldn't do it, but he still helped her improve her shooting anyway.

She flashed next to the little boy's look of joy on his face when he kicked in a door, and this made her chuckle for a moment. Nothing to replace that joyful feeling of destruction that guys experienced.

Next, she saw his face as he was in the ambulance after taking that psycho that shot Jerry Mankiewicz out the window of the abandoned building instead of shooting him. No matter how much he protested, she knew he'd never shoot a guy like that if he had any choice.

Then came the night in the hospital when he'd gotten shot at and beat up because she was so sick from her cancer treatment she couldn't back him up and follow him after the guy that had tried to kill his own family. How lucky he was that Glen Hobart had a clean shot. She hadn't been able to look him in the eye at the hospital. She had no answer to his question of "Where were you, Faith?" She saw again the angry, scared and hurt look on his face when she'd told him in the locker room that she had cancer and couldn't tell anybody. "It's me, Faith. I'm not anybody."

"You're right, Bos. You're not anybody – you're my partner, my best friend," she told him. She noticed now that his hand felt a little cool in her own.

She stood up, putting the Detective's shield into her pocket, and reached to the foot of the bed where a blanket lie, folded across the bottom. She grabbed the edge and pulled it up over the sheet that covered him. "There, that should help you stay warm," she told him, her hand resting on his chest, as if the feel of his chest rising with each forced breath assured her he was still alive – still her partner.

"Faith," came a soft voice from behind her. She turned to see Mary Proctor in the doorway. Mary stopped up every night after her shift – sometimes during her shift – to check in and see how he was doing.

"Hey, Mary. How are you? Is it that late already?" Faith said, turning to greet her.

"I'm afraid so. How's he doing tonight?" Mary said, looking over at the monitors and checking the tubing on his IVs. "Hey, Bosco," she called to him.

"He's fighting," Faith told her. "He feels a little cool though, I think. I put a blanket on him," she said and Mary reached over to feel his temperature.

"Maybe a little," she said. "But, the blanket should do the trick. I'll mention it to the nurse on the way out. You coming?"

"Um.," Faith said, hesitating to leave.

"C'mon, Faith. I'll walk out with you," Mary urged her. "Don't worry. The nurses tell me he has visitors around the clock. Whenever the cops bring someone into the E.R., they're always stopping up," Mary said.

"Yeah?" Faith said in surprise. "That's nice. I'm glad he's not alone for too long at a stretch." She pulled the cover up a little further and put a hand on his arm. "Okay. G'night, Bos. I'll see you in a little while. Keep fighting to come back to me," she finished as Mary waited at the door for her.

She walked over to the doorway, taking one more glance at her partner before heading home to an empty apartment.

The End.