The song is by Tori Amos and is called 'Sleeps With Butterflies'. I'll rate this part R because of swearing.

Airplanes take you away again
Are you flying above where we live?

I hear him follow me out into the foyer of the police department building. He's hot on my heel and there's little I can do to escape him.

"Faith wait!" I hear him call. He's startlingly close and I sprint to the doors. I urgently clutch the handle but it slips free from my sweaty grasp. I let out a low yelp out of sheer desperation and try again. This time the door opens, but only slightly. Bosco comes up behind me, slamming it shut with the power of one of his muscular arms, trapping me against the wooden frame. I feel the wall of his chest press against my back and I look up to where his hand keeps the door firmly shut. I'm sure people are watching this display – if I were them I'd watch. I steal a glance over my shoulder to confirm my suspicions.

And I'm right. They all stare at us. Even Lieu stands at the front desk, phone pressed against his ear, his jaw hanging open.

Suddenly Bosco's closeness is too much to take and I back up sending him stumbling towards the desk. I must have knocked into him hard because he lets out a grunt and I sigh as the door opens and I escape into the clammy air of a very hot day in New York City.

Then I look up a glare in my eyes
Are you having regrets about last night?

"Faith…" I hear Bosco say again. His voice is low and menacing and I turn slowly to face him.

"What?" I grit through clenched teeth.

"Why do you always have to cause a scene?" he breathes. I let out an exasperated sigh and run my fingers through the roots of my fair hair.

"Me?" I cry out, "You….you followed me out here…you forced me to that in there…"

"Bullshit Faith!" he yells, "You love the fights. You love the drama!"

"You think I like all this?" I gasp, frowning. He laughs.

"Yeah I do!"

"What's this about Bosco?" I ask. My question catches him off guard and he backs up a little, his hands falling to his sides.

"What do you mean?" he replies, gazing at the ground.

"Why are we arguing? I mean…what the hell is goin' on here?" I say, breathing heavily. He cuts his eyes to mine and stares at me.

What do you want from me?

"I don't understand…" he mumbles. My jaw drops open ready to remind him of how this conversation started but I bite down on my tongue, taking a hard gulp.

I don't know what I want from you! Maybe something you can't give!

"Come on Bosco, your memory's bad, not that bad," I argue gently giving a faint smile. He shakes his head vehemently.

"Hell if I know how this started Faith…oh no wait. It started with you refusing to help me or believe in me!" he retorts.

What are you talking about?

"Bosco stop," I say softly. He looks more agitated now, pacing from left to right. "Just…stop."

He turns suddenly and catches my gaze.

There's a look in his eyes that I know all to well. I've seen it a dozen times before. He hangs his head to the right, places his left hand on his hip, and just looks at me. And I know there's something behind it. I know there's something in it. But even after twelve years, I still can't put a name on it.

I'm not but I like rivers that rush in
So then I dove in
Is there trouble ahead for you the acrobat?
I won't push you unless you have a net

It's really hard to even describe. He's just looking at me I know, but it's like that I'm the only person he's seeing. There's no one else around even in a crowded street where both friends and foes walk by.

"Faith…" he utters my name, licking his dry lips. My eyes focus on them and I feel a blush creep up my neck and across my cheeks. And it's in that moment I realise why it had started. Why we constantly fight. Why we feel the need to tear shreds out of each other. Because if we're not fighting, if we're not screamin' and yellin' then what do we do? The opposite of fighting is too scary to even contemplate.

Bosco and I knew getting into this partnership we'd never have a happy medium. We'd either be killin' each other or… Well we've actually never been the other way. As soon as we make up somethin' or someone comes along and knocks us two steps back again. We've never actually gotten close. Never actually shown each other real affection. With the exception of 9/11. And even then the closeness was a little too…personal. We're both examples of extreme people. We can never be 'middle of the road'. We need the conflict and tension to move us on. It's what keeps us who we are…Bosco and Faith. And it's as he says my name in one breathy whisper I realise it. After all this time…

You say the word
You know I will find you
Or if you need some time I don't mind
I don't hold on to the tail of your kite

I'm talking about us Faith…me and you…we can't keep going on like this…

I feel my breath hitch and a dry lump forms in the back of my throat. He's standing just metres away from me and yet right now, it feels like we're worlds apart.

"Don't make me say it," he begs his eyes welling with tears. Tears! Bosco! Even now it's hard to believe that this wiseass, Italian charmer who has - had – the maturity of a twelve year old actually knows how to cry. I mean genuinely cry. And yet here he stands in front of me ready to bear his soul and heart. To be able to put your heart out like that and trust that someone will put it back together is unbelievable. More unbelievable than the fact he's choosing to perform this act of honesty and sincerity with me. Why me? Why me?

Going on like what Bosco? We were fine! What's wrong with us?

"Bos…" I say, instinctively reaching out for him. He stares at my hand as I hold it out, my fingers shaking out of sheer trepidation and the paranoia associated with bearing your soul to someone through the perfectly innocent act of touching. Of connecting.

I'm not like the girls that you've known

But I believe I'm worth coming home to
Kiss away night
This girl only sleeps with butterflies
With butterflies
So go on and fly then boy

I wait patiently for him to take my hand. But he just looks terrified. Petrified. He cowers back and I notice his breathing become laboured.

You know Faith! You know full well!

I snap back to the scene my hand still hanging like a lead weight in the air, ready to drop at anytime. Please Bosco I say inwardly Please…touch me…hold me…

"We can't, I can't," he stutters still gazing at my hand. My whole arm begins to shake as I realise he's not going to touch me, he's not going to take my hand, he's just going to stand there. He is just going to fucking stand there. Bastard. A whole well of emotions floods me and I'm unable to deal with any one of them. Anger, fear, resentment, contempt, pity, sorrow, apprehension, lust…and a lust for what I'm not sure. A lust for Bosco to touch me or for something else? I scowl and my hand drops to my side. He watches it fall, transfixed by my movements which seem to be saying more than my actual words. I let out a long, heavy sigh and bite down on my lower lip.

"So this is it?" I ask sharply. He looks up at me, his stare teary and unfocused. He places both hands on his hips and stands slouched to the left. "This is it," I repeat, "We're done?"

I try desperately to catch his wandering gaze as he shrugs, and mutters something about 'not being sure.'

Not sure? Not fucking sure! Is that all I'm worth to him! I make a noise to air my feelings of frustration and vehemence. He doesn't respond. He just stares at the ground, shifting uneasily on the balls his feet. "Right…" I say chuckling bitterly, "Fine. You push everyone that cares for you away. See if I care!"

"Faith…" he breathes. I gesture wildly in the air, my anger spilling over.

"No! Don't even!" I hiss, "What the hell is wrong with you? Twelve fucking years of partnership and friendship and all I get is an 'I'm not sure'! Well…fuck you Bosco!"

He winces at my offensive and derogatory language. This coming from the guy who can't go ten minutes without swearing inexplicably at something small or of little importance. And it pisses me off that he could be so condescending.

Balloons look good from on the ground
I fear with pins and needles around
We may fall then stumble upon a carousel
It could take us anywhere

"Jesus Faith, will you just take a breath?" he mutters ruffling his hair with his right hand. He messes it up and I tut. Christ, why does he destroy everything he touches? It was fine before he did that! I fight the outlandish urge to smooth it down myself and keep my hand firmly clenched down by my side.

"Don't tell me to calm down Bosco! I am calm! I'm calmer than I've ever been," I snap pointing at him. He grins – one of his disarming, perfect and yet mischievous grins.

"Yeah…you look like you've just spent the week at a spa," he replies running his tongue over his lips. I shake my head incredulously.

"Don't even dare try to make a joke out of this! Can't you see what you're doing to me?" I scream. He glances over to where Sully and Davis have pulled in. Sully stands leaning back on the squad car and Davis rests his hand on the roof. Both watched us, clearly intrigued by our little show.

"What about what you're doin' to me eh Faith?" he counters throwing himself back into the argument. It's now obvious he couldn't care less who's watching. Colour rushes to his cheeks as his temper flares and he curls up his fingers into a fist as if ready to attack. It's all a big front and I know that. It's a defence mechanism he uses to scare people off. And it usually works. Usually.

Except with me and he knows that. I guess he's using whatever he's left to try and push me away. Even something he knows won't wash with me. He hates women beaters and I know that. Does he honestly expect me to think that he'd hit me? I almost laugh at the thought but hold it back.

"Bosco…why do we keep doin' this? We go round and round…nothin' ever changes," I sigh, defeated.

"I try to change Faith…I do…but it's like you can never open up to me. I can open up to you!" he fires back. And in some ways he's right. I am a rather defensive person. I never let my guard down for anyone. Especially anyone who might mean something to me. Someone who I might let in. Someone who might care. Someone who might love me. Someone like Bosco. Maybe I was the reason Fred left after all. I wouldn't open up to him. What else could he do? He loved me and I wouldn't talk to him. And I loved him. But I didn't trust him. I don't trust anyone. Except for Bosco. And my kids.

"Hey guys, you wanna do this inside?" Davis suggests stepping forward. Bosco scowls at him and Davis holds up his hands defensively. "Just a suggestion man…didn't think you'd want to air your dirty washin' in public…"

Bosco opens his mouth to say something but I cut in quickly. "He's right Bos. Lets head over to the diner yeah? We can talk properly there…"

He glances at me, his jaw setting like he's fighting back the urge to scream and yell. I gulp loudly half expecting he will just let rip right here but he lets out a breathy chuckle and trudges toward the diner. I clench my eyes shut and take a sharp breath relieved that he held it in. When I open my eyes to Davis and Sully I force a smile.

"Thanks guys," I say quietly following Bosco lead.

"Hey Faith!" I hear Sully call. I turn to face him. "You need anything we're right across the street."

I smile again and head into the diner.

You say the word
You know I will find you
Or if you need some time I don't mind
I don't hold on to the tail of your kite

I come in to find he's already sitting in a booth, staring blankly out the window. It's even hotter in here and I shrug out of my black jacket throwing it across the seat. He gives me a fleeting glance and turns to look back out the window. A waitress comes over immediately and smiles.

"Can I get you folks anything?" she asks sweetly. I look up at her. She's young and pretty, about 22 with long brown hair tied back in a professional ponytail and huge brown eyes. She stands tall, supermodel tall, about 5"9, with long legs and high cheek bones. She fixes the sleeves of her black diner shirt so that they curl up at her elbows and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She stands gazing at us expectantly, pen to paper.

"Two cokes please," I reply. I wish to God they served something stronger in here but they don't. She nods and looks over at Bosco.

"Hi Maurice," she says smiling brightly. He mumbles something back and doesn't even look at her. She looks hurt and I watch as she scurries off towards the kitchen.

"That was a bit cruel," I say gently, "I hope you don't treat all potential girlfriends like that…"

He blinks several times as if trying to prevent himself from replying to my innocent remark.

"Listen Bos…" I say sitting forward. I rest my elbows on the table and clasp my hands together in front of me. He sits slouched back in the booth, his own hands clenched on his lap. I feel his legs press against mine, his knee bobbing up and down nervously. It drives me mad but I don't say anything. "We gotta talk about this."

"Its all we ever do Faith…talk…doesn't get us anywhere though does it?" he mutters refusing to even look my direction.

"Hey…" I begin. The young waitress returns, slams the drinks down and stomps off haughtily back to the kitchen. I shake my head as she disappears behind the counter. Maurice Boscorelli usually had that effect on women… "I don't know what you mean." He sighs and says something under his breath, something I can't make out. I gaze at him biting on the skin of my inner lip. I consider daring a question, which I still think, is off limits but it's just so tempting I can't ignore the nagging voice in my head telling me to ask him. I take a deep breath.

"What couldn't you say out there?"

He cuts his eyes to me, suddenly intrigued. "What?"

"You said 'don't make me say it'. What was I not to make you say? What couldn't you tell me?" I ask fidgeting with my thumbs. He frowns and he too leans on the table. His hands are just inches from mine. All I have to do is reach out…

"I can't remember…" he replies simply. I meet his gaze. His eyes cut through me. Like he can see right past my skin and down to the depth's of my soul. And it unnerves me.

"Try," I choke out holding his stare. He bites on his upper lip and sits back again. He shrugs and returns his gaze to out the window.

"What's out there that's so interesting?" I ask. He knows I'm just testing him so he holds his tongue. "Bosco please. Don't go silent and broody on me now."

"This is a waste of time Faith," he says finally getting to his feet. I stare up at him, surprised by his abrupt attempt at an exit.

"Bosco!" I say as he slides out of the booth and heads for the doors. "Bosco! Come back here!"

But he doesn't. He keeps on walking out the doors, and out of my life.

I'm not like the girls that you've known
But I believe I'm worth coming home to
Kiss away night
This girl only sleeps with butterflies
With butterflies
With butterflies
So go on and fly boy

Note from author: I know it's awful! I'm really sorry...:-(