When Strength Fades

Disclaimers: I do not, and have never owned any part of Third Watch.

A/N: This was written at the end of last season as a follow-up to Monsters. Originally, it was a stand-alone piece that evolved into three parts due to the wonderful feedback from the readers at 55 David.

Enjoy

Cactus

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The last few hours have been unbelievably exhausting. Everyone and everything is trying to make me lose my focus, to intrude into my thoughts, to veer me away from my one priority. They try to console me with hugs and looks. They bring me coffee and sandwiches. They sit quietly at my side.

I push them all away because I can only think about one thing right now – Bosco.

The doctors and nurses are all trying to shelter me from what they think is the inevitable. They hint at how horrible the wound is, how difficult the surgery is, and how much blood he's lost.

They don't know Bosco. They don't understand his strength. They haven't seen him chase a perp endlessly because he won't allow anyone to get away from him. They haven't seen him comfort an abused child when all he really wanted to do is beat the crap out of the parents. They've never seen how much he will give of himself to help a victim.

They have no idea how much strength is contained in one man.

They only know numbers and jargon; BP 90 over 60, resps 12, pulse 120, 8 litres of O neg, on and on.

These things are meaningless to me. I need to know real things. I need to know if he'll ever strut into the locker room beaming about something he's got himself into. I need to know if he'll ever pull those asinine pranks on the bucket boys or Sully. I need to know if he'll ever look at me and know exactly what I'm thinking. I need so much more than what those numbers say.

I need his strength to get me through whatever comes next.

I bury my face in my hands and allow myself to cry. I finally realize how unfair life is, how no matter what you do bad things happen to good people. I cry because I may have lost the one true friend I've ever had.

I sense someone standing over me. I slowly wipe my cheeks and look up to see Mary Proctor. Her expression is unreadable.

I don't dare ask, I allow her to take her time, I allow myself one more moment of hope.

"He's out of surgery. I'll take you up to the ICU," she says as she takes my hand.

Her grip is strong. She pulls me up out of my darkness as she smiles at me and holds me close.

"How is he?" I manage to eke out.

Her eyes drop down and an unfathomable sadness fills them. She doesn't have the courage to tell me that she doesn't think he'll make it. "The doctor...he'll explain..." she starts haltingly but stops when I turn away and stare straight ahead.

Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. Suddenly all my hopes and dreams are as blurred as my eyesight. Fred and the kids, Bosco, my job...they all seem so far away and my soul fills with an immense emptiness.

The next thing I remember is the glow of the heart monitor. I don't recall how I got into his room or what the doctor said. I stand motionless as I watch the line jump and beep with every beat of his heart. The beeping keeps time with the whooshes from the ventilator.

I make my way over to the bed and stare down at his still form. All colour is drained from his face and he looks devoid of any semblance to the Bosco I know. I tentatively run my hand over his arm. Slowly I make my way down toward his wrist. I pause before allowing my fingers to caress the area just above his hand.

My breath catches. There, I feel it, the bump that comes up when he turns his hand a certain way. Bosco broke his wrist when he was a kid and I guess they never set it right because he still has that bump to show for it.

But I don't stop there. I reach over and feel under his chin. My fingers scrape lightly over his unshaven face and once again I feel my spirit lift when I touch the scar tissue running there in a half moon shape.

I feel better now, like these things prove to me that this is really the Bosco I know.

I grab a chair and sit next to the bed. I don't let go of him. I want him to know I'm here. Minutes turn into hours. Doctors and nurses come and go constantly. I'm almost immune to their presence.

My chin rests on my forearms and my eyes are locked on Bosco, and then someone enters the room, but this time whomever has come in waits by the door.

The seconds tick by and I feel the need to look back. I lift my head and turn slowly; an elderly priest stands by the door.

"I've come to offer last rites," he says compassionately.

I feel my heart dissolve under the weight of his words and my anguish cannot be contained within my body. I turn back to look at Bosco and the reality of the situation hits me hard. I feel myself shaking and sobbing uncontrollably, as I weep over him. Suddenly strong arms envelope and comfort me and for the briefest of moments I let myself think that it is Bosco holding me.

The priest slowly lets me go and pulls me back into the chair. Then he begins administering last rites. A calm comes over me at seeing the compassion and love flowing from this old man.

The scene unfolding before me is hauntingly beautiful, like a ballet. The priest dips his finger in oil and makes the sign of he cross on Bosco's head, hands and feet. I stare in rapture as he gently murmurs prayers over Bosco's still form.

The priest finishes and comes to stand behind me. He places a hand on my shoulder and allows his healing touch to permeate my body.

"Sometimes," he says quietly, "love is not enough to save a man when his strength has faded."

I look back and stare into the most amazing brown eyes I've ever seen and in that instant I seem to understand everything he's trying to tell me.

I nod my head and turn back to Bosco as I listen to the sound of the door opening and the priest exiting quietly.

I stand and pull his hand up to my lips as I gently kiss his knuckles. These hands that protected me from danger now need my protection.

I brush the hair back from his face and trace his lips and eyes with my fingers. His beautiful eyes always looked out for, always searched for me, always cared for me.

I lean over the bed and kiss them too.

I tell him about Fred, about the kids, about the doctors and nurses, and about my fears. I tell him everything because he is my best friend.

I remember Bosco's word from a lifetime ago and I feel the desperation in my voice that he must have felt when he told me I was the only one. I lean over and tell him the same thing. "Bosco, I need you...you're the only one...you've always been the only one...I need you."

I feel his fingers tighten around mine in an unmistakable sign that he understands and that he'll fight to stay with me.

I squeeze back and lean over and kiss him on the forehead as I breathe a sigh of relief.

I feel my heart soar as he continues to squeeze my hand in defiance of what all the doctors and nurses believed.

I finally understand that the priest was right. Love is not enough. Because when strength fades and when love wanes, man needs hope...and I tell him over and over how much I need him, that I'll never leave, that I've always loved him and that I always will.

TBC...