TITLE: Do you really want me?
AUTHOR: faith_in_Faith
E-MAIL: faith_in_Faith@hotmail.com
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing...
SPOILER: Up to and including season five, and my story "All that glitters is not gold."
AUTHORS NOTE: THANKS a lot for all your reviews : D You make me very happy. Special thanks goes to Joey for all her job with correcting this, and to Schmoo and Bee for their endless support!
CHAPTER EIGHT.
I'm not sleeping, but I'm not really awake either. I'm floating around somewhere in-between, and I really like it. I feel considerably good for the moment. I'm not nauseous, and I'm not in pain. There's a lot of stuff attached to me though, like an i.v., and a heart monitor, and that damn tube Carlos jerked down my throat yesterday.
I don't remember Carlos doing that, but Sully told me that's what happened. He was by my side when I woke up. I must have scared the shit out of him with my little performance last night, because he stayed with me the whole night, fussing around like he was my mother or something. If I hadn't felt so crappy, it would have probably annoyed me to the point of where I'd shoot him, but right then it made me feel safe. That was a good thing because I was scared and confused, and really didn't want to be alone. My mother was here too for a couple of hours, telling me a lot of things I really didn't care to hear, but she's gone now too. I know it's terrible and extremely ungrateful of me, but I'm very happy that she's gone.
This tube thing isn't all that comfortable, but the doctor told me it has to stay there for a bit longer. He thinks my body is too weak to puke, and they need to be able to tell how much I'm bleeding. I haven't bled anything in several hours though, and he promised me that if it stays that way, they would take it out tomorrow. I have to wait a couple of more days with the food though. A bleeding ulcer from stress - that's what they say I have. The doctor was pretty concerned about it. He said I need to rest a lot and sort out my problems, otherwise it can get worse again - maybe even kill me. I guess that means I'm going to die, because my problems are unsolvable.
I can hear light footsteps approaching my room, and can't help but sigh. I really don't want to talk to anyone right now. For a moment, I considering to pretend I'm asleep, but curiosity gets better of me. I want to know who has come to visit me. I know it isn't a nurse because she would have started poking on me by now. I open my eyes and spot Sasha lingering in the doorway. As soon as I see her, I realize that Sully wasn't the only one I scared the shit out of last night, because Sasha looks terrified. Like she thinks I'm going to die any minute.
"Hi," I say hoarsely.
"Hi," she answers, and nervously approaches my bed, "How you feeling?"
I shrug, "OK, I guess."
"You in pain?" she asks worriedly.
I shake my head, "No, not right now."
"That's good," she answers with relief in her voice, and sits down at the edge of the chair next to my bed.
For a few a moments we just stare at each other, and then she says, "You scared the shit out of me last night."
"I'm sorry," I reply quietly.
I really am a useless person. It seems like the only thing I'm good at is to get people around me in trouble - or scare them to death. I can't help but think about the countless times I scared the shit out of Faith - or got her in trouble, until she finally had enough and left me. Now it's poor Sasha's turn. I wonder how long she's going to last.
"I'm sorry too," she says with guilt in her voice.
I stare at her in confusion. "What are you sorry for?"
She shifts nervously on the chair, "For not noticing how sick you were."
"Sasha, don't," I reply tiredly. "How were you supposed to know? I didn't even know for myself. This isn't your fault, OK?"
"OK, but please just give me a straight answer to one single question - and no lying," she begs seriously.
"OK," I answer. I have every intention of telling her the truth, no matter what she's about to ask. I know all too well what lying to your partner leads to.
"Did you vomit blood when you were home sick?"
"No," I answer firmly.
"And you would have told me if you did, right?"
"Of course," I answer, but this time I'm lying.
It's a harmless lie though. She feels guilty enough as it is. There's no need for her to know that Faith is the only person I would ever tell something like that.
A flash of relief crosses Sasha's face, and it pleases me. For once I did something right. For once I made someone feel better – not worse. She looks kindly at me, and says, "You know you can talk to me, right? About what's bothering you, I mean."
"Monroe..." I answer warningly, because I'm not going to get into this with her. She can't help me. No one can, and I'm sick of her mothering me and trying to become my best friend. Just because I was stupid enough to destroy my friendship with Faith, doesn't mean I want to have a new friend.
"OK," she replies with a smile. "I can tell you're starting to feel better."
I don't answer because I'm starting to get tired, and I don't feel like wasting my energy on banter with her. She studies me for a moment before saying, "You know now that Faith is OK, right?"
I can feel my heart starting to race from her statement. Why is she bringing up Faith all of a sudden? Why wouldn't she be OK?
"What the hell do you ask that for? Why wouldn't she be fine? She's at home, isn't she?" I ask angrily, and at the same time I feel pain in my stomach again, but I choose to ignore it. I need to know what the hell Sasha is talking about.
"Yeah, yeah, she's home, and she's fine," Sasha, replies hurriedly.
"Then why the hell do you bring her up at all?"
Sasha shifts nervously, "You don't remember?"
"What am I supposed to remember?" I ask.
The pain increases, and I'm starting to feel nauseous too. I shouldn't get myself worked up like this, I know that, but this really scares me. What am I supposed to remember? Have I hurt Faith again somehow and don't even remember it?
"Nothing. It's nothing, Bosco. Just forget I said anything, OK?"
"No way! You can't just ask me if I remember something, and then just drop it when I don't! I'm warning you, Sasha, you better tell me what's wrong with Faith, or I...." I stop and close my eyes because the pain gets better of me, and I can hear the heart monitor beeping furiously.
Sasha puts her hand on my arm, "Please, Bosco, calm down," she begs, with a hint of panic in her voice. "Faith is OK. She's been OK all the time, but yesterday you thought otherwise. You thought she was hurt, and you were very upset about it. Sully had a really hard time convincing you that she was OK, and I just wanted to make sure you didn't worry about her anymore, since you're supposed to rest. Please, Bosco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
Great! This is just wonderful! Obviously I made a fool out of myself yesterday. No wonder Sully was worried. He must have thought I'd lost it completely. I try to take a deep breath to calm myself down. I really don't feel so good anymore. It hurts, and I feel hot and cold at the same time. Suddenly, hurried footsteps approach my room, and a kind but firm voice asks, "Officer Boscorelli, what's wrong?"
I open my eyes and look at the nurse who stands by my bed, and answer, "I don't feel so good. It hurts."
She frowns slightly, and bends down and checks the bag attached to the tube in my nose. It's still empty - thank God. I don't want to have to keep it in for another day.
Then she takes my hand to check my IV-line, and her frown deepens. "You feel a bit warm here, Officer. I think you're developing a fever."
Great, this is getting better for every minute. She turns to Sasha, and says kindly, "I think you better go. He's too uptight right now. He needs to rest."
Sasha stands up immediately. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just wanted to check on him."
The nurse smiles, "That's OK. Having people who care is a good thing, but right now he needs to rest."
"Bye, Bosco. I'm so sorry, please try to get better now, OK?"
I nod tiredly and reply, "Don't worry about it. It's OK. Thanks for dropping by."
She nods, and hurries out through the door.
The nurse studies the heart monitor, and then turns her attention to me. She takes my blood pressure, and checks my temperature by sticking a thermometer in my ear. Her touch is soft and comforting, and I can feel myself relax a bit. Finally she asks, "How's the pain now, Officer?"
"Better," I answer tiredly.
"That's good," she replies with satisfaction in her voice. "You're having a slight fever - about 101. That's not unusual with these kinds of illnesses, but I'll tell the doctor about it. He will probably add some antibiotic to your medication. I'm gonna get you something for the fever and the pain, so you can try to get some sleep. You really need to rest now."
I nod, and close my eyes. I feel completely exhausted, and I realize just how sick I have to be, when acting like my usual defensive self, drains me like this. Not to mention that I – despite my hate of hospitals – don't even have a desire to go home. The nurse's footsteps are fading away, and I can feel myself drifting back to sleep.
*************
I wake up by the sound of dishes being banged around, and I can smell food. It makes me feel a bit queasy, but at least I'm not in pain anymore. I'm moving around in bed, trying to stretch out my sore muscles, when the nurse from before appears in the doorway.
"So you're awake, Officer Boscorelli. That's good. There's someone here to see you. Do you feel up to it?" she asks kindly.
"Yeah, why not?" I answer tiredly. I still not feel all that great - but just like earlier today - I'm curious about whom it can be.
The nurse smiles warmly at me, and says, "That's good. Your daughter will be happy to see you. She's very worried about you."
"But..." I try to protest, but she's already out in the hallway again.
What the hell is this? I don't have a daughter - at least none I know about. Wouldn't it be just perfect if some chick decided to drop her kid on me right now? Then I really would have problem, and this ulcer would kill me for sure. I look intensely at the door, dreading what's about to come, and a few minutes later; Emily appears in the doorway.
I can't help but grin, as I raise my eyebrows, and say, "So you're my daughter, huh? No wonder your father is pissed with me."
Emily looks guilty, and blushes slightly as she answers, "Sorry about that, but they said that you needed to rest, and that I could only see you if I was family and I really needed to see you. You said I could call you, or come by anytime if I needed anything, so I figured you wouldn't mind."
I feel my stomach tightens with fear. Now what's wrong? Why does she need to see me so badly? "Why? What's wrong?" I ask, and try to fight a wave of pain without her noticing.
"Nothing is wrong. I'm just worried about you," she answers, and I can see the fear in her eyes.
"Who told you I was here?" I ask more rudely than I intended to, but I'm very pissed with the person who told her I was sick - and with myself too for that matter.
Now she's worried, and she's just a kid. Kids aren't supposed to have to worry about grown ups. Not to mention that I've already caused her enough pain by letting her mother get shot. Fred is right; I'm like a bad curse.
"Sully did," she answers quietly. "He came by our house this morning and told Mom. He said you were very sick – that you could even die."
I consider whether I should kill Sully or not, but the way Emily looks at me, distracts my thoughts. Her eyes are filled with that mix of worry and concern that I used to see in Faith's eyes, and for a moment, the loss of her consumes me to the point of wanting to cry. If I had known what it was going to cost us all, I would have never asked her to help me. I wonder how much it would hurt to die from an ulcer, because the more I think about it, dying would appear to be the most suitable punishment for my stupidity. I close my eyes for a second in an attempt to compose myself.
"Bosco, you OK?" Emily asks worriedly.
I open my eyes and smile at her, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna die. I'm fine."
"Yeah, you look really great," she replies sarcastically, and rolls her eyes.
She both looks and sounds exactly as Faith, and I can swear I actually feel physical pain in my heart. I had no idea you could miss someone this much. I force another smile at Emily because I really want her to stop worrying.
"I'm, OK, Emmy, honestly. The ulcer isn't bleeding anymore. The medication helps. I just need some rest and then I'll be as good as new."
She bites her bottom lip, "You sure?"
"I'm sure. Don't worry, OK?"
"OK," she replies quietly, and then continues in such a quiet voice that it's almost a whisper, "I'm sorry."
Just as with Sasha earlier today, I just stare at her in confusion, and ask, "What are you sorry for?"
Emily avoids my gaze, and answers in a tortured voice, "Well Sully said you got it from stress, and I know you were worried about me..." her voice trails off, and she just looks at me unhappily.
"Emily," I answer gently, "This isn't your fault, OK? Believe me, there's a lot of other stuff in my life that stresses me more - and besides, you're behaving, aren't you?"
"Yes, Bosco, I am," she reassures me sincerely.
"Good for you, because if you don't I'm gonna kick your ass," I reply seriously.
She raises her eyebrows, "Yeah, right! You really look like you're in shape for ass kicking."
I can't help but smile because she acts exactly as Faith. "Believe me, Emily, if you give your mother any kind of trouble, I'm gonna get out of this bed and kick your ass even if that's the last thing I'll ever do!"
"OK, I'm glad you're alright," she answers and smiles fondly at me, "Mom will be very happy to hear that. She's very worried about you."
My chest tightens at her words. I want them so badly to be true, but I know she's just saying it to be nice, and to cover for her mom. "Well, as I said; there's no need for that. I'm fine."
She looks kindly at me as if she wanted to say something more. Then her expression changes, and she starts to rummage through her backpack, while murmuring, "I have something for you - from Mom."
"Yeah?" I reply, and I can't hide my surprise.
Why would Faith send me something? She doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore. Emily keeps rummaging around in her backpack for a few more moments, and then she triumphantly holds up a white envelope.
"Here," she says with a smile, and hands it over to me.
I take it from her, and carefully tear it open. Inside it is a card with a blue flower on the front, and for some strange reason it makes me think of her eyes. My hands are shaking slightly, and I almost hold my breath as I open it. I can't understand why I'm so nervous. It's not like she's going to jump out of it and shoot me, or something - but still I'm nervous as hell. I read the few words in it.
Don't do that again... Love Faith.
I can't believe my eyes. It's like a miracle. Maybe she does care about me after all. Tears are welling up in my eyes, and the letters get blurry. Embarrassed, I turn my head so Emily can't see how silly I'm reacting, but I can't help it. The thought that there's a chance for forgiveness, does that to me.
"She cares a lot about you," Emily says softly.
I swallow hard, and quickly blink away my tears. "Emily, it's OK. You don't have to try to make me feel better. She has every right to be angry with me. I deserve it."
"You really don't get it, do you? She isn't mad at you at all. She just pretends to be in order to please Dad. The truth is that she misses you just as much as you miss her."
I can't help but feel a twinge of hope. Maybe Emily is right. Maybe Faith does care about me. Maybe she actually misses me too. Why else would she use the words I once told her in an attempt to make her understand how much she means too me. A shiver runs through my body, as well as a wave of pain. I tiredly close my eyes. I really don't feel good.
"Bosco?" Emily asks worriedly.
I open my eyes again, just in time to see a nurse walking through the door. This one is a pretty blond, and when she smiles I can see that she has a dimple on the left side. She reminds me of Nicole.
"Officer Boscorelli, I'm gonna give you some antibiotics in your IV-line," she says kindly, and studies me, then she asks in a serious voice, "How you feeling?"
"Been better," I murmur.
"Yeah? What's wrong? You in pain?"
I nod, and try to ignore Emily's worried eyes. Just like the other nurse did earlier, she checks my blood pressure and my temperature.
"Well, Officer, your fever is rising, and that could explain why you don't feel so good."
"Is it dangerous?" Emily asks anxiously, and I curse myself for not being tough enough to hold it together in front of her.
The nurse turns to her and smiles, "Don't worry, honey, we're giving your Dad medications that will make him better. He'll be as good as new in no time."
Emily smiles brightly at her, "That's great!"
The nurse offers her another warm smile, but then she turns serious, and says, "But he need a lot of rest too, so I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to leave now. You can come back to see him again tomorrow, and in the mean time we'll take care of him for you."
"OK," Emily answers and gathering her things. She throws her backpack over her right shoulder, and then she gives me a mischievous smile before saying, "Bye, Dad. Try to get better now, and I'll see you soon, OK?"
I give her an equal mischievous smile and reply, "I will. You behave now, OK?"
Her smile widens to a grin, "Promise!"
"Good," I answer, and then take a deep breath before saying, "and, Emmy..."
"Yeah?"
"Tell your Mom I won't, OK?" I don't know if it's a wise thing to do, but I feel a need to let Faith know I heard her.
"I will," she answers softly, and I can tell that she knows exactly how important it is that she remembers the exact words. She really is a great kid, and I wouldn't mind being her father at all.
"Officer Boscorelli, do you need me to get you something for the pain?" The nurse's voice jerks me out of my thoughts.
I smile faintly at her, and answer tiredly, "Yeah, that would be great, thanks."
"Ok, I'll be back in a few," she replies, and disappears out into the hallway.
I close my eyes and try to relax. I really feel like shit. The nurse comes back after a couple of minutes, and injects something through the needle in my arm. Then she replaces the bag with antibiotics with one with some white stuff in it. She claims it's food, but I can't say I believe her. I know what food looks like.
Finally she smiles kindly at me and says, "You really have a lovely daughter. You must be very proud of her."
"I am, she's taken after her mother," I answer and try to hide my grin. This is just too surreal.
"In that case, her mother has to be a great woman," the nurse states with another smile.
"Yeah, she's the best," I reply quietly.
"Well, Officer, you look exhausted and that's not good. You really need to get some rest. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
I nod. I know I need to rest because I can't remember ever feeling this weak before. She smiles kindly at me one more time, and then leaves the room. I close my eyes and allow myself to see Faith's face in front of me, and I can't help but smile. For the first time in months I feel hope. Maybe she really will forgive me. Maybe my problems aren't unsolvable. Maybe I don't have to die in a bleeding ulcer after all. That's my last thought before drifting off to sleep.
AUTHOR: faith_in_Faith
E-MAIL: faith_in_Faith@hotmail.com
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing...
SPOILER: Up to and including season five, and my story "All that glitters is not gold."
AUTHORS NOTE: THANKS a lot for all your reviews : D You make me very happy. Special thanks goes to Joey for all her job with correcting this, and to Schmoo and Bee for their endless support!
CHAPTER EIGHT.
I'm not sleeping, but I'm not really awake either. I'm floating around somewhere in-between, and I really like it. I feel considerably good for the moment. I'm not nauseous, and I'm not in pain. There's a lot of stuff attached to me though, like an i.v., and a heart monitor, and that damn tube Carlos jerked down my throat yesterday.
I don't remember Carlos doing that, but Sully told me that's what happened. He was by my side when I woke up. I must have scared the shit out of him with my little performance last night, because he stayed with me the whole night, fussing around like he was my mother or something. If I hadn't felt so crappy, it would have probably annoyed me to the point of where I'd shoot him, but right then it made me feel safe. That was a good thing because I was scared and confused, and really didn't want to be alone. My mother was here too for a couple of hours, telling me a lot of things I really didn't care to hear, but she's gone now too. I know it's terrible and extremely ungrateful of me, but I'm very happy that she's gone.
This tube thing isn't all that comfortable, but the doctor told me it has to stay there for a bit longer. He thinks my body is too weak to puke, and they need to be able to tell how much I'm bleeding. I haven't bled anything in several hours though, and he promised me that if it stays that way, they would take it out tomorrow. I have to wait a couple of more days with the food though. A bleeding ulcer from stress - that's what they say I have. The doctor was pretty concerned about it. He said I need to rest a lot and sort out my problems, otherwise it can get worse again - maybe even kill me. I guess that means I'm going to die, because my problems are unsolvable.
I can hear light footsteps approaching my room, and can't help but sigh. I really don't want to talk to anyone right now. For a moment, I considering to pretend I'm asleep, but curiosity gets better of me. I want to know who has come to visit me. I know it isn't a nurse because she would have started poking on me by now. I open my eyes and spot Sasha lingering in the doorway. As soon as I see her, I realize that Sully wasn't the only one I scared the shit out of last night, because Sasha looks terrified. Like she thinks I'm going to die any minute.
"Hi," I say hoarsely.
"Hi," she answers, and nervously approaches my bed, "How you feeling?"
I shrug, "OK, I guess."
"You in pain?" she asks worriedly.
I shake my head, "No, not right now."
"That's good," she answers with relief in her voice, and sits down at the edge of the chair next to my bed.
For a few a moments we just stare at each other, and then she says, "You scared the shit out of me last night."
"I'm sorry," I reply quietly.
I really am a useless person. It seems like the only thing I'm good at is to get people around me in trouble - or scare them to death. I can't help but think about the countless times I scared the shit out of Faith - or got her in trouble, until she finally had enough and left me. Now it's poor Sasha's turn. I wonder how long she's going to last.
"I'm sorry too," she says with guilt in her voice.
I stare at her in confusion. "What are you sorry for?"
She shifts nervously on the chair, "For not noticing how sick you were."
"Sasha, don't," I reply tiredly. "How were you supposed to know? I didn't even know for myself. This isn't your fault, OK?"
"OK, but please just give me a straight answer to one single question - and no lying," she begs seriously.
"OK," I answer. I have every intention of telling her the truth, no matter what she's about to ask. I know all too well what lying to your partner leads to.
"Did you vomit blood when you were home sick?"
"No," I answer firmly.
"And you would have told me if you did, right?"
"Of course," I answer, but this time I'm lying.
It's a harmless lie though. She feels guilty enough as it is. There's no need for her to know that Faith is the only person I would ever tell something like that.
A flash of relief crosses Sasha's face, and it pleases me. For once I did something right. For once I made someone feel better – not worse. She looks kindly at me, and says, "You know you can talk to me, right? About what's bothering you, I mean."
"Monroe..." I answer warningly, because I'm not going to get into this with her. She can't help me. No one can, and I'm sick of her mothering me and trying to become my best friend. Just because I was stupid enough to destroy my friendship with Faith, doesn't mean I want to have a new friend.
"OK," she replies with a smile. "I can tell you're starting to feel better."
I don't answer because I'm starting to get tired, and I don't feel like wasting my energy on banter with her. She studies me for a moment before saying, "You know now that Faith is OK, right?"
I can feel my heart starting to race from her statement. Why is she bringing up Faith all of a sudden? Why wouldn't she be OK?
"What the hell do you ask that for? Why wouldn't she be fine? She's at home, isn't she?" I ask angrily, and at the same time I feel pain in my stomach again, but I choose to ignore it. I need to know what the hell Sasha is talking about.
"Yeah, yeah, she's home, and she's fine," Sasha, replies hurriedly.
"Then why the hell do you bring her up at all?"
Sasha shifts nervously, "You don't remember?"
"What am I supposed to remember?" I ask.
The pain increases, and I'm starting to feel nauseous too. I shouldn't get myself worked up like this, I know that, but this really scares me. What am I supposed to remember? Have I hurt Faith again somehow and don't even remember it?
"Nothing. It's nothing, Bosco. Just forget I said anything, OK?"
"No way! You can't just ask me if I remember something, and then just drop it when I don't! I'm warning you, Sasha, you better tell me what's wrong with Faith, or I...." I stop and close my eyes because the pain gets better of me, and I can hear the heart monitor beeping furiously.
Sasha puts her hand on my arm, "Please, Bosco, calm down," she begs, with a hint of panic in her voice. "Faith is OK. She's been OK all the time, but yesterday you thought otherwise. You thought she was hurt, and you were very upset about it. Sully had a really hard time convincing you that she was OK, and I just wanted to make sure you didn't worry about her anymore, since you're supposed to rest. Please, Bosco, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
Great! This is just wonderful! Obviously I made a fool out of myself yesterday. No wonder Sully was worried. He must have thought I'd lost it completely. I try to take a deep breath to calm myself down. I really don't feel so good anymore. It hurts, and I feel hot and cold at the same time. Suddenly, hurried footsteps approach my room, and a kind but firm voice asks, "Officer Boscorelli, what's wrong?"
I open my eyes and look at the nurse who stands by my bed, and answer, "I don't feel so good. It hurts."
She frowns slightly, and bends down and checks the bag attached to the tube in my nose. It's still empty - thank God. I don't want to have to keep it in for another day.
Then she takes my hand to check my IV-line, and her frown deepens. "You feel a bit warm here, Officer. I think you're developing a fever."
Great, this is getting better for every minute. She turns to Sasha, and says kindly, "I think you better go. He's too uptight right now. He needs to rest."
Sasha stands up immediately. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just wanted to check on him."
The nurse smiles, "That's OK. Having people who care is a good thing, but right now he needs to rest."
"Bye, Bosco. I'm so sorry, please try to get better now, OK?"
I nod tiredly and reply, "Don't worry about it. It's OK. Thanks for dropping by."
She nods, and hurries out through the door.
The nurse studies the heart monitor, and then turns her attention to me. She takes my blood pressure, and checks my temperature by sticking a thermometer in my ear. Her touch is soft and comforting, and I can feel myself relax a bit. Finally she asks, "How's the pain now, Officer?"
"Better," I answer tiredly.
"That's good," she replies with satisfaction in her voice. "You're having a slight fever - about 101. That's not unusual with these kinds of illnesses, but I'll tell the doctor about it. He will probably add some antibiotic to your medication. I'm gonna get you something for the fever and the pain, so you can try to get some sleep. You really need to rest now."
I nod, and close my eyes. I feel completely exhausted, and I realize just how sick I have to be, when acting like my usual defensive self, drains me like this. Not to mention that I – despite my hate of hospitals – don't even have a desire to go home. The nurse's footsteps are fading away, and I can feel myself drifting back to sleep.
*************
I wake up by the sound of dishes being banged around, and I can smell food. It makes me feel a bit queasy, but at least I'm not in pain anymore. I'm moving around in bed, trying to stretch out my sore muscles, when the nurse from before appears in the doorway.
"So you're awake, Officer Boscorelli. That's good. There's someone here to see you. Do you feel up to it?" she asks kindly.
"Yeah, why not?" I answer tiredly. I still not feel all that great - but just like earlier today - I'm curious about whom it can be.
The nurse smiles warmly at me, and says, "That's good. Your daughter will be happy to see you. She's very worried about you."
"But..." I try to protest, but she's already out in the hallway again.
What the hell is this? I don't have a daughter - at least none I know about. Wouldn't it be just perfect if some chick decided to drop her kid on me right now? Then I really would have problem, and this ulcer would kill me for sure. I look intensely at the door, dreading what's about to come, and a few minutes later; Emily appears in the doorway.
I can't help but grin, as I raise my eyebrows, and say, "So you're my daughter, huh? No wonder your father is pissed with me."
Emily looks guilty, and blushes slightly as she answers, "Sorry about that, but they said that you needed to rest, and that I could only see you if I was family and I really needed to see you. You said I could call you, or come by anytime if I needed anything, so I figured you wouldn't mind."
I feel my stomach tightens with fear. Now what's wrong? Why does she need to see me so badly? "Why? What's wrong?" I ask, and try to fight a wave of pain without her noticing.
"Nothing is wrong. I'm just worried about you," she answers, and I can see the fear in her eyes.
"Who told you I was here?" I ask more rudely than I intended to, but I'm very pissed with the person who told her I was sick - and with myself too for that matter.
Now she's worried, and she's just a kid. Kids aren't supposed to have to worry about grown ups. Not to mention that I've already caused her enough pain by letting her mother get shot. Fred is right; I'm like a bad curse.
"Sully did," she answers quietly. "He came by our house this morning and told Mom. He said you were very sick – that you could even die."
I consider whether I should kill Sully or not, but the way Emily looks at me, distracts my thoughts. Her eyes are filled with that mix of worry and concern that I used to see in Faith's eyes, and for a moment, the loss of her consumes me to the point of wanting to cry. If I had known what it was going to cost us all, I would have never asked her to help me. I wonder how much it would hurt to die from an ulcer, because the more I think about it, dying would appear to be the most suitable punishment for my stupidity. I close my eyes for a second in an attempt to compose myself.
"Bosco, you OK?" Emily asks worriedly.
I open my eyes and smile at her, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna die. I'm fine."
"Yeah, you look really great," she replies sarcastically, and rolls her eyes.
She both looks and sounds exactly as Faith, and I can swear I actually feel physical pain in my heart. I had no idea you could miss someone this much. I force another smile at Emily because I really want her to stop worrying.
"I'm, OK, Emmy, honestly. The ulcer isn't bleeding anymore. The medication helps. I just need some rest and then I'll be as good as new."
She bites her bottom lip, "You sure?"
"I'm sure. Don't worry, OK?"
"OK," she replies quietly, and then continues in such a quiet voice that it's almost a whisper, "I'm sorry."
Just as with Sasha earlier today, I just stare at her in confusion, and ask, "What are you sorry for?"
Emily avoids my gaze, and answers in a tortured voice, "Well Sully said you got it from stress, and I know you were worried about me..." her voice trails off, and she just looks at me unhappily.
"Emily," I answer gently, "This isn't your fault, OK? Believe me, there's a lot of other stuff in my life that stresses me more - and besides, you're behaving, aren't you?"
"Yes, Bosco, I am," she reassures me sincerely.
"Good for you, because if you don't I'm gonna kick your ass," I reply seriously.
She raises her eyebrows, "Yeah, right! You really look like you're in shape for ass kicking."
I can't help but smile because she acts exactly as Faith. "Believe me, Emily, if you give your mother any kind of trouble, I'm gonna get out of this bed and kick your ass even if that's the last thing I'll ever do!"
"OK, I'm glad you're alright," she answers and smiles fondly at me, "Mom will be very happy to hear that. She's very worried about you."
My chest tightens at her words. I want them so badly to be true, but I know she's just saying it to be nice, and to cover for her mom. "Well, as I said; there's no need for that. I'm fine."
She looks kindly at me as if she wanted to say something more. Then her expression changes, and she starts to rummage through her backpack, while murmuring, "I have something for you - from Mom."
"Yeah?" I reply, and I can't hide my surprise.
Why would Faith send me something? She doesn't want to have anything to do with me anymore. Emily keeps rummaging around in her backpack for a few more moments, and then she triumphantly holds up a white envelope.
"Here," she says with a smile, and hands it over to me.
I take it from her, and carefully tear it open. Inside it is a card with a blue flower on the front, and for some strange reason it makes me think of her eyes. My hands are shaking slightly, and I almost hold my breath as I open it. I can't understand why I'm so nervous. It's not like she's going to jump out of it and shoot me, or something - but still I'm nervous as hell. I read the few words in it.
Don't do that again... Love Faith.
I can't believe my eyes. It's like a miracle. Maybe she does care about me after all. Tears are welling up in my eyes, and the letters get blurry. Embarrassed, I turn my head so Emily can't see how silly I'm reacting, but I can't help it. The thought that there's a chance for forgiveness, does that to me.
"She cares a lot about you," Emily says softly.
I swallow hard, and quickly blink away my tears. "Emily, it's OK. You don't have to try to make me feel better. She has every right to be angry with me. I deserve it."
"You really don't get it, do you? She isn't mad at you at all. She just pretends to be in order to please Dad. The truth is that she misses you just as much as you miss her."
I can't help but feel a twinge of hope. Maybe Emily is right. Maybe Faith does care about me. Maybe she actually misses me too. Why else would she use the words I once told her in an attempt to make her understand how much she means too me. A shiver runs through my body, as well as a wave of pain. I tiredly close my eyes. I really don't feel good.
"Bosco?" Emily asks worriedly.
I open my eyes again, just in time to see a nurse walking through the door. This one is a pretty blond, and when she smiles I can see that she has a dimple on the left side. She reminds me of Nicole.
"Officer Boscorelli, I'm gonna give you some antibiotics in your IV-line," she says kindly, and studies me, then she asks in a serious voice, "How you feeling?"
"Been better," I murmur.
"Yeah? What's wrong? You in pain?"
I nod, and try to ignore Emily's worried eyes. Just like the other nurse did earlier, she checks my blood pressure and my temperature.
"Well, Officer, your fever is rising, and that could explain why you don't feel so good."
"Is it dangerous?" Emily asks anxiously, and I curse myself for not being tough enough to hold it together in front of her.
The nurse turns to her and smiles, "Don't worry, honey, we're giving your Dad medications that will make him better. He'll be as good as new in no time."
Emily smiles brightly at her, "That's great!"
The nurse offers her another warm smile, but then she turns serious, and says, "But he need a lot of rest too, so I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to leave now. You can come back to see him again tomorrow, and in the mean time we'll take care of him for you."
"OK," Emily answers and gathering her things. She throws her backpack over her right shoulder, and then she gives me a mischievous smile before saying, "Bye, Dad. Try to get better now, and I'll see you soon, OK?"
I give her an equal mischievous smile and reply, "I will. You behave now, OK?"
Her smile widens to a grin, "Promise!"
"Good," I answer, and then take a deep breath before saying, "and, Emmy..."
"Yeah?"
"Tell your Mom I won't, OK?" I don't know if it's a wise thing to do, but I feel a need to let Faith know I heard her.
"I will," she answers softly, and I can tell that she knows exactly how important it is that she remembers the exact words. She really is a great kid, and I wouldn't mind being her father at all.
"Officer Boscorelli, do you need me to get you something for the pain?" The nurse's voice jerks me out of my thoughts.
I smile faintly at her, and answer tiredly, "Yeah, that would be great, thanks."
"Ok, I'll be back in a few," she replies, and disappears out into the hallway.
I close my eyes and try to relax. I really feel like shit. The nurse comes back after a couple of minutes, and injects something through the needle in my arm. Then she replaces the bag with antibiotics with one with some white stuff in it. She claims it's food, but I can't say I believe her. I know what food looks like.
Finally she smiles kindly at me and says, "You really have a lovely daughter. You must be very proud of her."
"I am, she's taken after her mother," I answer and try to hide my grin. This is just too surreal.
"In that case, her mother has to be a great woman," the nurse states with another smile.
"Yeah, she's the best," I reply quietly.
"Well, Officer, you look exhausted and that's not good. You really need to get some rest. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"
I nod. I know I need to rest because I can't remember ever feeling this weak before. She smiles kindly at me one more time, and then leaves the room. I close my eyes and allow myself to see Faith's face in front of me, and I can't help but smile. For the first time in months I feel hope. Maybe she really will forgive me. Maybe my problems aren't unsolvable. Maybe I don't have to die in a bleeding ulcer after all. That's my last thought before drifting off to sleep.