18. Feeling guilty/And I'm worried/ and I'm waking from a tormented sleep/'Cause this old love, you know it has me bound/but this new love cuts so deep/If I choose now/I'm bound to lose out/one of you is gonna have to fall/I need you, baby/Why do you come here, when you know I've got troubles enough/Why do you call me/when you know I can't answer the phone/And make me lie when I don't want to/And make someone else some kind of an unknowing fool/Make me stay when I should not /Are you so strong or is all the weakness in me?

Bosco couldn't stop thinking about what Sasha had said earlier in the day. The words played on his mind, over and over, much like a broken record. He wasn't sure why it affected him the way it had. People were always saying things about his and Faith's relationship, making outlandish accusations, and it was mainly to wind him up. But Monroe wasn't trying to annoy him, or trying to make up a story that wasn't there. She seemed to genuinely believe what she was saying. Maybe that's what was scaring him. Someone believed that his and Faith's relationship was deeper than what everyone else saw and assumed.

Soul mates.

He wasn't even sure what those words meant. Well he knew what they meant, separately, but combined in a descriptive term – no. It wasn't that he was being macho or chauvinistic – he just never believed that these kind of things existed. Maybe in the films or on T.V, but not in the world he lived in. But Sasha seemed so sure. So sure about it all she wouldn't even argue with someone who disbelieved it – she would rather let them think what they want then diminish her own sense of the world. Perhaps for her, she needed to believe in it. And briefly Bosco wondered if Faith did too.

He wondered if she believed in true love, and…soul mates…He never pictured her as this emotional girly girl who liked to dress up, watch cheesy films and cry at the end. It wasn't that he didn't think of her as being feminine – truth be told she was one of the most feminine women he'd ever met – but what he didn't think was that she was naïve. She was tough – a realist. Like him. That's why they were drawn to one another. They had the same goals when they worked together – they wanted the same things. Yeah, they maybe had different ways of achieving those goals – Bosco's theory usually being to arrest first ask questions later – but basically they wanted the same thing. They wanted to make a difference in the world. However small it may have been.

He only ever saw her as his partner and friend. He never wondered what was under her mask of determination and strength. He only saw the walls she put up. He didn't want to have to deal with the emotions that came with the breaking down of those walls. It wasn't that he didn't care about what she was feeling – he did. As long as it was work related, or something so totally serious that it made a complete difference to her life. He didn't want to deal with the superfluity of her sadness, which resulted from perhaps a derogatory comment said by her daughter, a fight between her and Fred, or just simply a mood swing. That was way too personal for him. That would mean he'd be totally involved in her personal life. Not that he didn't listen when she complained of all these things – he just never took her pain on board. He had to distance himself from this woman.

A woman to whom he was completely drawn. A woman who captivated his thoughts, who monopolised his mind.

And then it dawned on him. If he were so distant, if he was so detached from Faith, why did he go home each night and think about all those small things he had just mentioned, and worry about her. Worry that she may be hurting. Worry that she may not have anyone to talk to except for him (and God knows that was a curse in itself for her). And he'd feel sad. If only for a brief moment he'd feel for her. And the next day he'd try be that little bit nicer just so she'd feel comforted.

He wasn't detached from Faith – far from it. How could he be? It seemed even ridiculous to him now. All those things that he'd tried to rationalise – like saving her life, helping her find her daughter (more than once), listening to her about her divorce, visiting her to see if she were alright…all these things he'd convinced himself he did because they derived from partner loyalty, he did because he was desperate to be closer to her.

She gave him her heart and soul – she helped him with his family, she understood his childish behaviour and where it stemmed from, she accepted him for who he was. Nobody had ever done that before. Everybody tried to change him.

Not her.

She would never try to change him.

A pair of soft hands clapped around his eyes, startling him.

"Guess who," came Erin's gentle voice. He forced a smile.

"Britney Spears," he choked out. She removed her hands and he craned his neck around to meet her gaze. She was beaming down at him, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, tickling the skin of his neck.

"Someone even better," she replied, kissing him on the mouth. She made a little noise as they parted, her eyes still shut.

"I think you're right," he said, watching her face. Her eyes slowly opened, and she bit down on her lower lip.

"I'm never goin' to get tired of that," she stated, kissing him again. His eyes followed her as she sat on the bar stool next to his and she ordered a martini. She was beautiful and smart – everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. Strong, but not so much were it would become a constant battle to live with her, and intelligent but not so much where it would make him feel inferior. It was like she was made for him. For any man really. He couldn't ever really picture them both arguing, it seemed like there wouldn't be too much to argue about.

"Are you ok Maurice?" she asked, her face worried. He smiled.

"I'm fine," he replied, "Just tired. It's been a long day, ya know?"

"Yeah…yeah…I was thinkin' about that. Maybe we should take a trip on Wednesday, go into the country for a break," she suggested. He smiled but then frowned realising his earlier promise to Faith.

"I can't, I'm sorry," he replied, "I really am sorry."

She shook her head. "Forget it, it's fine. I should've known you'd be busy at work…my bad…"

"No. It's not work," he said, "I promised…a friend…that I'd do somethin' for them. I can't go back on it."

She nodded, forcing a smile. "It's fine Maurice. Really it is. Some other time yeah?"

He grabbed her hand, kissing her palm. "Of course. Damn it…that would have been a really nice plan."

Her free hand cupped his cheek and she rubbed it affectionately. "You're makin' me really happy," she informed him. He stared back at her and grinned.

"Really? Wow…me too…I mean the same…I mean…"

"I know what you mean Maurice," she smiled, chewing on her lip. "And thank you."

He wasn't sure the last time a woman had thanked him for being with her. It was usually they were slapping him for sleeping around, or not showing them enough attention. He liked it this way. His face wasn't as sore. Realising he hadn't responded he did the only thing he knew how. He captured her lips in his again, trying to show how much he appreciated her gesture in a kiss. It would've been easier if they were in bed…but instead he kissed her. It wasn't rough or needy. It was gentle – a sign of affection between two people. Again this was unfamiliar to him. But good unfamiliar.

And all thoughts of Faith and the soul mate issue had vanished.