8. See the stones set in your eyes/see the thorn twist in your side/I'll wait/for you/slight of hand and twist of fate/on a bed of nails/she makes me wait/and I'll wait/ without you/with or without you/with or without you.

He felt nervous. For the first time ever Maurice Boscorelli felt nervous before a date. The idea was almost laughable to him. Almost. There was also that sickening, stomach churning feeling but he chose to ignore that one. Nervousness to the point where it amused you he could deal with, anything beyond that was slightly more complicated.

This was the first time he'd been out with a woman since the incident in the hospital. He had covered the scar tonight with his good old faithful band-aid, hiding any evidence of that day and burying it beneath fabric and cloth. People told him he should be proud of the scar – it was a trophy.

A trophy of what he wondered.

A trophy of pain, hurt, suffering, misconception?

When they saw it they see the mark of a man who dived courageously to save the life of his partner and best friend, without any concern for his own well-being. But when he saw it, he saw the mark of a man who'd been so scared at the thought of losing this woman, this one woman, who held so much power over him, he chose her life over his. Because after all if she was to die he'd have to live without her. He'd have to go on living while she was gone. And he'd be alone. And he was scared…no fucking terrified by that thought.

So if they knew the truth, if they knew the real reasons behind his 'heroic' act and how selfish they were, they'd see him for what he really is. A coward. And perhaps he wanted them to see it. So he could stop leaving this pretence and finally become a man. That's all he really wanted - was for them to stop seeing him as 'super-Bosco' and start realising that all he is, is human.

She saw it. And he admired her for it. She realised his humanity to the point where she perhaps saw him as weak, but he didn't care. She still saw him and accepted him for what he really was. Not many people would do that.

But then again, not many people were like Faith.

And he was afraid that he'd go into this woman now and she wouldn't be able to see past the scar. The burden on his life. The thing he faced everyday when he got up and looked in the mirror. And she would be put off. After all who could blame her if she was? He could barely cope with it never mind someone else having to face it and the demons, which accompanied it.

So with all the strength he could muster, he pushed open the doors of the bar/restaurant and went into the bright lights, loud noise and painful singing that was the karaoke night. People bustled around, talking happily, blissfully unaware of his presence. He knew no one here. They were all strangers. And in a way he was grateful for that. But he still couldn't shake the habit, and scanned the crowd for a familiar overweight man, a tall black young male or, the one he preferred, a blonde, tall female. But none could be seen and he sighed, despite the fact he knew they wouldn't be there. The familiarity of his friends was all he wanted at that precise moment, the fear of rejection to great to bear. All he had to do was turn around and leave. Then he'd never have to face this woman or his demons. And he was going to run and hide like the coward he was before his gaze settled on her. And he was breathless.

She stood by the bar; glass in hand, her sleek brown hair hanging loosely over her slender shoulders, her dark brown eyes glancing nervously around. He scrutinised her appearance, taking in the gentle curves of her body, emphasised in a red flowing dress that fell short of her knees, revealing her slim lengthy legs. She was a knockout and perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever dated.

And then he was scared shitless again.

He now regretted his choice of attire; open-necked black shirt with new blue jeans. He knew he should have made more of an effort.

But he couldn't run because she had caught sight of him, and to his relief, smiled. She waggled her fingers in the air, and he rather lamely waved back, rolling his eyes at his own lack of charm and mystery. There was no running now. He was forced to move forward, his legs walking ahead of his mind. He wasn't prepared to talk to her yet but he had to. As he approached she turned to him fully, grasping her glass like a lifeline. The gesture reminded him of the night of the ball last year when Faith had arrived, and had clung to her purse as if it were about to grow legs and walk. He smiled inwardly.

"Hi, you must be Maurice," she breathed, shaking her hair back out of her eyes, "I'm Erin."

He shook her delicate hand, amazed by the softness of her skin. A little voice in his head reminded him of the charm he seemed to be forgetting he had, and he pulled her hand to his lips, brushing them gently against her palm. "It's a pleasure Erin."

She gave a toothy smile, her eyes sparkling in the ambience of the lighting. The loud singing still rang in his ears and he winced as one female singer failed to hit the high note on Mariah Carey's 'Hero'.

"Sorry about the bar," she said registering his discomfort, "I feel more comfortable in crowded places."

He waved her off, smiling. "Don't be silly. I like it," he lied. She sighed, placing her drink down on the bars surface.

"Oh…ok…well…do you wanna grab a table?" she offered leading him to a booth. He followed her, sliding in the seat across. The waiter immediately came over, handing them both menus. "I've never been set-up before," she started biting down on her lower lip, "And to be honest I wasn't sure what to expect."

"Me neither," he conceded, closing his menu. Nothing exactly appealed to him on it but he wasn't about to tell her that.

"You come highly recommended though," she chuckled, her voice shaking. He smirked.

"You're making me sound like some hair product."

"Oh! Sorry…I didn't mean…"

"No. God. I'm joking…I…"

Both stopped and looked at each other. He was the first to laugh, throwing his head back on the booth. She followed his lead, bursting into a fit of giggles. "I'm sorry Erin. I haven't done this in a while," he explained. She nodded.

"Neither have I. Last year was pretty rough for me…" she trailed off, her eyes watering. Feeling it was probably best to switch subjects he let out a sigh and smiled.

"Drink?" he offered, signalling for the waiter.

"Please, thank you."

It took a few alcoholic drinks before they loosened up, talking openly, her telling him all about her favourite music, films, her job and he all the while waited for any opportunity to see down her dress. Force of habit he supposed. One habit Faith constantly criticised him on. She had often caught him trying to look down her top and was not amused. She scolded him, and informed him she was not a piece of meat, or some poster he could look at when he felt the need to be a 'pervert'. He merely laughed her off; making a point of getting her attention the next time he did it. He actually found the whole thing quite amusing, and at the end of the day she probably liked the attention.

"So…" he sighed, cutting his eyes back to her face, "Tell me about this rough year you had."

She hiccupped swaying in her seat. "It's not important," she said, sighing over-dramatically. He frowned, his own judgement more than impaired by the most likely dangerous amount of alcohol he had consumed.

"No it is."

"I was engaged…" she explained, blinking furiously, "And it ended up that he had been cheating on me with my best friend."

"I'm sorry," he said, sipping from his glass. Her eyes narrowed and she pointed at him.

"But that's not all, do you want to know my friends name?"

He shrugged.

"His name was Bernard," she said, her gaze turning tearful. He was speechless for a moment, nearly choking on his vodka. "There you have it! I turn men gay!"

He laughed and she looked bewildered. "What?"

"Nothin'," he replied, leaning forward. "I remember the first time I seen you in the house."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. All they guys stopped and literally nearly tripped over their own jaws. You had 'em all talking. You came in, bold as brass, flicking that hair of yours, scowling like your life depended on it and bit the head off one of the officers in front of his friends. It was so cool."

"Well I am good at what I do…" she said, smiling. He nodded in agreement.

"I remember you too ya know?" she said, her eyes turning in as she tried to focus her gaze on him, "You were with that woman…"

"What woman?" he queried, gulping down his drink.

"Blonde, pretty, police officer," she said.

"Faith Yokas," he informed her, "My old partner."

She waved dismissively, not really caring for the name. "Yeah well…hold up. Old partner?"

"She's a detective now…got promoted…long story," he laughed.

"Oh…ok. Well…she didn't like me very much as I recall. I think she called me 'super bitch from hell'…or somethin' along those lines. I don't really remember. And you…well you weren't that quick to defend me."

She eyed him playfully, raising her eyebrows. He struggled to form an excuse, searching desperately for a response.

"I uh…"

"Don't worry!" she giggled, "I'm just teasing."

He smiled, relieved. He noticed her eyes cut to his cheek and the bandage covering it.

"It's ok you can ask," he said softly. She looked back to his eyes, startled.

"No…well…it's…what happened? It kinda looks like a war wound," she commented, squinting at the band-aid. He licked his lips that were numb from the excessive alcohol consumption.

"It is. Line of duty fire," he explained, "A bullet cut through my neck and cheek."

"Line of duty? What happened?" she questioned, her brow furrowing. He guessed she probably wouldn't have been this open or curious if she hadn't have been drunk and if he were honest he liked the fact she didn't dance around the issue like it was a bomb about to explode.

"I, um, I took the bullet for another officer," he conceded. Her eyes widened.

"Really! Wow! Must have been a good friend and officer."

"I suppose, it's just gut reaction you know," he replied, trying to wave off the heroic concept.

"Yeah but still I don't think I could do it. Not even for a really close friend…do you mind me asking who?"

He met her interested gaze and shrugged. "Sure…uh…it was my old partner."

She took a breath, smiling softly. "Oh…ok. Faith."

"Yeah, you know, not many people get it. We've been workin' together for about twelve years now and when you do that you pretty much have to depend on that other person. When you're out there there's no one else. Not your family, not your friends, no one."

"So…what…there was a gun fight and you tried to get her out of the way?" she questioned.

"Not exactly. Someone shot at her and I knew the bullet would have to hit one of us. I just acted on instinct."

"Wow. So…she must be pretty special for you to give your life for hers."

He chuckled noting the expressive look in her eyes. "It's not like that. She did it for me once, I thought I'd repay the favour."

"She took a bullet for you?"

"No…not exactly…it's complicated Erin-"

She held up her hands, sitting back in her seat. "I get it. No go area. It's alright."

He sighed; relieved she'd let him off the hook. "But I won't let you off on the other thing…"

"What other thing?" he asked, confused.

"Not defending my honour," she grinned. He smiled back as she leaned into him, her breath lapping against his face.

"And what do I have to do to make it up to you?" he asked. She fluttered her long lashes, smiling broadly. He gasped as she leaned in further, her mouth a few centimetres off his ear.

"Sing for me," she whispered. She pulled back, giggling, glass in hand. He looked perplexed but followed the direction of her gaze to the karaoke stage. He shook his head.

"I…I can't Erin," he admonished, "I can't sing to save myself."

"Neither can anyone here tonight. Boscorelli this is how you win my trust. And possibly a kiss."

He smirked at her, her dark eyes swirling chocolate brown around the black pupil, eyeing him seductively.

"If anyone laughs at me, I'd better get more than a kiss," he laughed standing up. She cackled, watching him approach the stage with caution and reluctance as if it were a perp about to lash out.

He was just drunk enough to do this. He stood up, chose the song and watched the screen nervously. He thought his heart was about to leap out of his chest. The music began and he honestly felt like running, but it was too late. He had chosen the only song he knew the lyrics to. Possibly because he had seen the film a thousand times over but would never admit to it. The first time he watched it was with Faith. She had forced him to go as Fred would not take her and she wouldn't, as she put it, 'sit on her own like a gooseberry at the cinema'. By then end he felt like the gooseberry.

"Every night in my dreams, I see you, I fe-el you," he spoke the words against the music, clenching and unclenching his hands by his sides. He looked down to see Erin smiling, shocked by his unusual choice. "That…is...is how I know…you go on…"

To his, and perhaps Erin's surprise, the heavily intoxicated crowd cheered him on, a few singing along with him. He was grateful for their support. It meant most of the time he could stop and let them fill in the blanks.

But by the end he got perhaps a tad too enthusiastic and screamed the lyrics out, gesturing wildly. The crowd went mad; screaming and applauding as he hit the high note with such flatness and wobbliness that Celine Dion would be turning in her grave. At least he thought she was dead. He wasn't quite sure…

By the end he felt flushed and in fact quite energized bouncing off stage, making his way to Erin. She embraced him immediately, kissing him on the lips. He grinned as she pulled back. It was definitely worth the pain and torture.

"Wow," she whispered pressing her lips together.

"Yeah," he agreed holding her into him. "So…my place or yours?"

He half expected her to slap him and warn him off but she didn't. Instead she grinned, took him by the hand and led him out of the bar out into the cold night. Snaking her arms around his waist, she again pressed her lips against his, humming with satisfaction at the warmth of their kiss.

"Take me home Maurice Boscorelli."

Summary and notes:

1. All roads in my fics lead to Faith/Bosco people bear that in mind as you read the next few chapters. Have a little faith (you see whatI did there with the pun...I'm sad I know...)

2. I like detours, striaghtforward coming together of characters kinda bores me...neh...

3. Inspiration for this part was the song 'With or Without You' by possibly the best band ever, U2. A quote from the song is at the top.

4. Bosco is confused. Well...yeah...huh...that you kinda knew already.