A/N: Hey guys, sorry I haven't been writing lately. I just haven't had the inspiration, really. But lately I've been feeling very... shippery... haha, so I had to get it out of my system, so I figured a story would be good. Warning: this is my first attempt at Bosco/Faith shipper stuff, so, yeah I hope you all like it!

Aftercare

Just five months before, he had been in ICU, critically wounded. The doctors said that he wouldn't ever leave the hospital, but being Bosco, he had proved them all wrong. I never doubted that he was going to get better, no matter how much everyone else thought otherwise. I know him better than that. It takes a hell of a lot more than a couple bullets to take down Maurice Boscorelli.

Pretty much since the day he started walking again, he had decided that the hospital just wasn't for him, and he signed out AMA, leaving all of the doctors in defeat. They weren't the only ones worried, as the rest of his friends, and especially his mother, had begged him to stay in the hospital at least until he had most of his strength back. But he insisted that he was good enough to go home. He's so damn stubborn.

At first, he stayed with his mother, as of course, he wasn't going to be staying alone for the first couple months of his recovery time at home. He had done so much better than anyone had expected. Going to therapy, getting his strength back, walking almost normally... He's a tough one... But then, we all know that.

By month four, he was back at his own apartment. I was so proud of him, yet so scared that he was back to living on his own. It's like having a child graduate from high school and moving onto college. They're finally independent, and you're so proud of them, but it's always in the back of your mind how scared you are that something terrible is going to happen. Was he okay? Would he call if he needed anything? I guess it's just that motherly instinct that I had developed in the past sixteen years that made me worry so much.

I had visited him at least twice a week when he was staying with his mom. We would sometimes have lunch, or even just talk for a while, but I always went over to check on things. The thing is that whenever I had gone to see him; see how he was doing, he seemed to shrink back. It was like he didn't want me to see him... or maybe he didn't want to see me. I think I bonded more with his mother during those visits than I did with Bosco.

I wasn't sure what was going on with him, but I needed to find out. I felt more distant from him than I had in a long time, and it was a time when I needed to be closer to him. I needed to know what was going through his head. He had been through more in a year, than any person should have to go through in their lifetime, and he hadn't talked about it. He was doing one of the infamous Bosco trademarks, bottling it all up inside himself until he broke. I don't want him to break...

I slowly walked up to his apartment door for the first time since before the shooting. 'I should have called first,' I kept telling myself, almost shaking. Why was I so nervous? Was it because I hadn't truly talked to him in over five months? Was it because I was scared of what he might do? Was it...was it the fact that I care about him so much that it's frightening?

I'm voting for the latter.

I knocked on the door, and a minute later, I was face to face with my partner; my best friend. He didn't look well. "Faith..." He said sleepily. "Hey, uh... what are you doin' here?" He asked, scratching his head.

"Well, uh..." I started, realizing that I, myself, didn't exactly know what I was doing there. "I wanted to see how you were doing." I solidly finished.

"I'm fine."

I stood there for a second, contemplating on leaving. I knew that I should have called first. I knew he didn't want me there... But I also knew that I needed to be there, for whatever reason. "Can I come in?" I reluctantly asked, watching as he nodded and stepped aside.

I walked in, glad that he would have me there. As he shut the door, I set my things down on the table, and headed over to the couch. I sat down and watched Bosco lock the door back, and turn around to come sit with me. His feeble form walked with a limp towards me, and he sat down on the other end of the couch, looking in the opposite direction.

"Bos," I tried to look at him, but he was turned so that I couldn't see his face. "Bosco, look at me."

He stalled for a moment, seeming as if he wasn't sure he actually wanted to look at me. He knew that the minute that he did, he was going to have to talk... really talk to me. He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh as he shifted his whole body to face me. His eyes had lost that spark that they'd used to have. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't mad... He just seemed... indifferent, and that was one emotion that I didn't think he had ever expressed.

I wasn't sure what to say. I wasn't sure what I could say without upsetting him. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but there was just something about him. He wasn't himself, and I needed to know what was wrong. If he were going to tell anyone, I'm pretty sure it would be me. "Why won't you talk to me?" I said, deciding to just bluntly pour it all out.

"What?" He said, squinting up his face like he did when he was accused of something, or just plain pissed off at someone.

"You won't talk to me." I said again. "Even when I came to visit you all those times at your Ma's... You never really said anything to me. It's like you're avoiding me." I finished, bracing myself for a defensive 'I don't know what you're talking about' spiel. But it never came.

There was a slight pause as he took in a deep breath. "I'm sorry." He said, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, Faith... I didn't mean to..." He stopped and brought his hand up to his jaw, like he always did when he was trying to think of how to say something. "I'm sorry." He said again, looking back away.

I sighed and scooted closer to him, pulling his chin gently to turn his head back to face me. "Don't be sorry, Bos. I just wanna know what's goin' through your head. You've been through a lot, and I'm worried about you. For God's sake, Bosco, you just got out of the hospital after having four bullets taken out of you. I think I'm entitled to be a little concerned." I finished. I looked into his eyes, which were now only inches away from mine, and I saw a small smile creep up the side of his face due to my concern.

"You don't need to worry about me, Faith, really. I'm okay now." He lied.

Frustrated at his stubbornness, I got up off the couch and started pacing around the room. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know why I was there... I felt like there was still something that I needed to do, something that I needed to take care of. But instead of making sure Bosco didn't have anything he needed to tell me, I just kept pacing around the room, drowning in my own confusion.

"...Faith,"

"What?" I snapped, not having heard him the first time. I immediately felt bad for having snapped at him when I saw his face drop a little and his eyes scrunch up. "I'm sorry, Bos, I – "

"Is that all you came here for?" He cut me off, "To check up on me?"

I stopped pacing at the harshness of his words. "Because if that's it, and you just wanted to tell me how much of a jerk I've been not talking to you, don't bother, because I already know."

I felt my feet start to move towards him. "I'm sorry, Faith, I just – " before he would finish his sentence, I cut him off, pressing my lips onto his, stopping his words completely. I kissed him with so much passion that I think I could have died at that instant...

"Oh my God," I pulled away, after realizing what I had done, and I started walking over to the opposite side of the room. What the hell was I thinking? "God, Bosco, I'm so sorry." I put my hands up, almost hitting them on my head because of how stupid I had just been. Bosco just stood there. He stood there and said nothing. I couldn't read his expression at all, which I wasn't used to. I'm usually able to tell every emotion that he's feeling, but in that minute, I could not read him.

Figuring that he was mad, I walked hastily over to the table where I had lied my purse down, set on leaving the very soonest I possibly could. This was just too weird.

"I'm sorry." I said again, grabbing for the doorknob.

"Faith." I heard his hollow voice waver my name. "Wait." He said.

I closed my eyes and bowed my head towards the ground at my shame as he started to approach me. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to know what he was about to do or what he was about to say. "Bos – " I whispered, before I was cut off by the touch of his soft hand.

"Shh." He put his finger up to my lips to stop them from moving. I opened my eyes, but I didn't dare look up at him.

With his other hand, he gently lifted my chin so that we were at eye level, giving me no choice but to look at him. I slowly moved my hand up to his cheek, tracing the scar that will never fade up and down with my fingertips. I felt him shiver at my gentle touch. Slowly, he moved in to the point where our faces were only inches apart. I could feel the tension between us... but this was different. I had never felt this way with a man before. I felt... home...

Grinning, he moved in closer until our lips finally touched. We must have stood there, in the doorway, for ten minutes.

When our lips finally parted, I knew that everything was as it should be. I knew that I had come there for a reason, and now I knew what the reason was... And I didn't ever want to leave.

The End