The day we buried Emily, Charlie and Fred I thought that I couldn't sink any lower. My heart had been ripped out and was left bleeding. Bleeding until I felt I would choke.

Despair was mine as I watched the three of them lying side by side in death. Knowing that it was Fred that had put them there, filled me with a kind of hate I had never known before; it was a hate that I was sure would consume me to my dying days.

It was a dreary day; as it is when you bury someone you love. I vaguely wondered if they were ok inside there. Charlie was always afraid of the dark and now he had nothing but darkness.

Small bodies lay as if asleep, in what was now to be a final resting place. As I watched them being lowered into the ground I threw myself on my knees and begged God to let them come back to me. Thick tears ran down my face as I pleaded with the Lord above to let me go with them, or if not with them, to let me take their place. If only I could have traded places; I would have gladly taken a ride in that truck and saved my babies from the pain and suffering and terror that they must have felt. I tried not to think of their final moments at the mercy of their drunken father and I hoped that they had gone quickly.

I screamed out their names, while trying to pull all of the hair out of my head as I watched the men throw dirt on their coffins, cementing me from their reach and finalizing a moment that every mother dreads; seeing their children being lowered into a burial plot. They were really gone.

The steady drizzle of rain tapped the top and sides of their tombs, bouncing off and making its gentle descent to the ground below, where my little ones would rest. Almost by instinct, I crawled to the edge and stretched out my arms to them, as if they could somehow call out to me and let me know it was all a dream. A horrible dream.

On my knees, I looked up at the stone grey sky and closed my eyes as the soft rain sprinkled my face. I saw Emily and Charlie as babies, calling out to me from their cribs. Emily, the day she started kindergarten and Charlie playing in the sandbox at the park. The two of them cuddling with me in bed when they had been awakened by a thunderstorm, snuggling into me, holding on for dear life. Who would hold them now?

I felt a hand on my back and I didn't have to turn around to know who it was. I felt Bosco's arms move around my waist, as he struggled to pick me up and put me back on my feet.

"Noooooooooo!"

Angrily, I slapped out at him, yelling that I needed more time with them. It wasn't time. I needed more time. More time. There were still things I needed to tell them. On lookers looked down, my sorrow to great for them to bear. Some shook their heads, others turned away.

Silently, he grabbed both of my arms and held them to my sides, forcing me to look at him. The anguish and pain I felt, reflected in his own eyes, as he watched me. Tears slid down his cheeks and dripped off his chin onto his new suit as he fought within himself to get the words out that he knew would pierce me like a knife.

"It's time, Faith. We have to...let them go". His voice cracked with emotion as he broke down completely and held me to him, each growing weary in our despair.

All around us, our friends and family a co-workers stood, all there to lend support in our time of need. The entire third watch was there along with our Lieutenant and his wife, Louise. Everyone in uniform, hats held against chests in a symbol of undying friendship and loyalty. I could hear noses being blown, along with soft crying and words of comfort.

As we turned to walk away, my legs began to tremble. My head started to pound and I couldn't seem to get enough air. I felt Bosco's hand tighten around mine as we made our way through the crowd. In a moment, it all became too much, as I heard the everlastingly devastating sound of pounds of dirt being thrown on the coffins. My legs melted and I fell to the ground. I felt my face against the wet grass, its coolness soothing my burning flesh. I made no attempt to get up.

Several men rushed forward to help me, when Bosco threw out his arms, stopping them.

"I got her. I got her". He gushed as he bent down and gathered me up in his strong arms.

He picked me up and carried me to the car, the crowd parting like Moses and the Red Sea. They all just stepped aside, letting us through. I rested my head on his shoulder. Grateful for having him with me at a time like this.

As we drove toward his apartment, which had become my apartment over the last three days, I watched the rain pelting off the window. It seemed God was as angry as I, and sent a downpour the moment the funeral was finished. I was sure that Fred was burning in Hell by now. I looked over at Bosco, wondering if I should tell him the thoughts that were running through my head. I wanted to go dig Fred up and kill him again. Over and over again. No punishment would be harsh enough for him. No pain too small. If he were here now, I would have been going to jail for murder.

Sensing my mood, Bosco looked over at me uneasily, unsure of what to say. He saw the anger and pain in my face and reached over and squeezed my hand gently, reassuring me that he was with me no matter what.

He hadn't had a wink of sleep in three days. Although he was clean shaven, his eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles underneath. His hair, usually so smooth, was now disheveled from the rain and from him constantly running his hand through it. It was a nervous habit he'd acquired from childhood.

How I loved him then. He had dropped everything in his life to try and help me with mine. He had made all of the funeral arrangements and put everything in motion, when I couldn't bring myself to even get out of bed. He had picked out the clothes that Fred would wear, mainly because I didn't care if he wore any or none at all. Even though Bosco hated Fred, and always had, he had picked out a nice suit and tie for him, not once making mention of what Fred had done. I had the feeling that he'd said plenty of things in private or to Davis, who had come to visit the day after, but he never once made a disparaging remark about Fred from the moment we had left the morgue. It seemed that he couldn't do anything but tend to me. I knew he had to keep his mind occupied or his anger would burst out and the wrong person would be on the receiving end.

I knew that it would only be a matter of time until he had his own breakdown. He had cried a lot, but usually tried to hide it from me. He had known my kids for years and he loved them like they were his own. He never missed a birthday or Christmas. I knew he was hurting, too, only I knew that his hurt would turn to anger soon enough, until he was able to come to grips with what had happened.

Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as he took me upstairs and handed me a pair of my pajamas. He had gone to my apartment and taken everything that was left and moved it into his spare room. He had stayed up all night long, the previous night, going through my clothes and setting up a bedroom for me. He had made me sleep in his bed but hadn't once offered to lie down with me, unsure of how I would take it. I knew he didn't want to presume too much, and I loved him for it.

I could not and would not set foot in my apartment ever again. Sully and Ty and a couple other guys had helped him move everything, not that there had been much left after Fred had left. Sully and Bos had made a truce, agreeing that they both wanted what was best for me.

He tucked me in to bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. His every action was full of love and empathy. He was dead tired himself, but he pulled up a chair beside the bed, deciding to sit and watch me until I fell asleep. He leaned forward and kissed me tenderly on the forehead. Then, settled back in the chair to be close to me in case I needed anything.

I did need. I needed him to be with me. I needed to feel his skin, his arms, his breath on me. I wanted him to make me feel alive; to feel loved. I folded the blankets down and held my arms out to him, pleading for him to come to me.

Silently, he got up and slipped in beside me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I turned to face him. I caressed his cheek with my hand and he closed his eyes, squeezing back fresh tears that threatened to fall.

I reached for him, bringing my lips to his, desperate for him to touch me, to give me release. He responded, kissing me with such fervor, it made my heart ache.

He pulled back, searching my eyes. "Faith, we don't have to....I don't want you to rush into...."

"Please, Bosco." I pleaded, while I brought his hand to my heart, hoping he would feel how much I needed him. "Make love to me. Make love to me" I murmured over and over. I ran my free hand through his hair, pulling him closer to me, so I could kiss him with all the desperateness I could muster.

He succumbed to my demands and he took me, giving me every part of himself and taking in return. I basked in the glow of his radiance, the fire between us baptizing us, making us whole again.

We curled up together, after confessing our love again and again. I didn't know where I would go from here and I didn't know if I'd make it to the other side, but I knew that as long as he was with me, it didn't matter.