TITLE: Do you really want me?

AUTHOR: faith-in-Faith

DISCLAIMER: Nothing of this is mine....

RATING: PG-13

SPOILERS: Up to, and including season five, and my story "All that glitters is not gold."

AUTHOR'S NOTE I: I know there's been forever, and I'm truly sorry! But I had the worst authors block ever, mostly because I haven't seen the episodes I'm supposed to write about.... So BIG thanks to Schmoo for helping me with the details, although she's a very busy person, and Thank You Bee, lovinbosco, lore and Joey for the encouragement. An extra thanks goes out to Joey for torturing me through technical stuff, and language lessons ;)

AUTHOR'S NOTE II: This is for you lady Skywalker : ) I just wanted to let you know that I heard you, and that I took it under consideration, because the last thing I want to do is to bore you. The problem is that when I start to write a story it kind of gets its own life, so it didn't work. I'm sorry, I hope you'll continue ready anyway : ) Thanks for your opinion : )

So here you are, the new chapter : )

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Is that all you gonna eat?" I ask in disbelief, pointing at Bos' cup of soup.

"Yeah, so what? Since when is my dinner choice your problem?" he answers defensively.

"Well, excuse me for asking," I reply, just as defensively.

He just glares at me. I bite my bottom lip, look at him closer, and I realize that, he's starting to look really ill again. The sad thing is that he never looks especially healthy nowadays. The tired, worn-out look seems to have become a part of him, and I'm getting so used to it, that I almost didn't notice that he's looking worse.

I miss the old Bosco. I miss his smile, and the way he loved to tease me. We're back together again, but it's nothing like it was before. We're polite to each other, and occasionally there's a glimpse of how we used to be, but most of the time the car is filled with depressed silence.

I told him on my first day back, that my personal life was off limits. I know now that that was a mistake, because that means now he doesn't tell me what's going on in his life either, and I can't ask him, and that makes it difficult for me to be there for him like I should. I have to keep my home life away from him, though, because it's so extremely complicated. Fred seems to understand less and less with every day that goes by. I have a feeling he'd kill Bosco if he knew he could get away with it. I don't want Bos to know these things, because that would only make him feel guilty, and guilt creates stress, and God knows he doesn't need any more of that.

He's so fragile nowadays that it scares me, but I'm trying to support him by just hanging around. So far it seems to be working, because he hasn't gotten any worse – until now. It doesn't surprise me, though. Things are starting to get really complicated with Mikey, and the fact that Cruz is the one handling it doesn't help at all. I hate the thought of her having something to do with anything connected with Bosco. Now, when Mikey finally seems to be able to sorts out his life, and he and Bos seem to work things out, they don't need a backstabbing bitch like Cruz involved. It feels like anything could happen, and I don't mean anything good. I have a feeling Bosco shares the same fears, and that's probably why he's starting to feel ill again.

I'm constantly worrying about him, but my messy personal life, and the fragility of our partnership, make it hard for me to approach him the right way - make it hard to be there for him as much like I wish I could. I'm afraid that I'm going to do something wrong that will piss him off, or scare him away. I don't trust myself. I'm afraid that he's going to be able to see the almost overwhelming love I feel. I don't know what's wrong with me lately, but it seems like it's getting harder for me to hide my love with each passing day. Maybe it's because my marriage seems to be going down the drain.... I don't really know, but what I do know is that I've come close to slipping numerous times lately, and considering how tense and uncomfortable our relationship is - and that the chemistry that we used to have seems to have vanished into thin air - it's very strange.

I also know that showing him concern is the easiest way to slip, because there's no other time when I want to hold him and kiss his pain away so badly than when he isn't feeling well. I have to push my luck, though, because the way he just plays with his spoon - without eating - only worries me more. I need to make sure he's OK. I don't want him to end up in the hospital again.

"Bos," I ask softly, "you feeling, OK?"

He looks up at me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

The way he tiredly runs a hand over his face makes it hard for me to believe him.

"So the fact that you're eating soup has nothing to do with your stomach bothering you again?"

"It's no big deal, Faith. Really. It'll probably be better tomorrow," he answers, and smiles slightly at me.

That smile convinces me that he's feeling sick again, because he only smiles that way when he tries to trick me to back off.

"So it is bothering you?"

He sighs tiredly. "It hurts a bit, OK? But it's under control. I promise."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I promised, remember?" he says softly.

I nod, and he smiles again. It's that soft, caring smile that always makes my knees go weak. There's been a long time since I've seen it, but the sight of it now has me believe that maybe we really will be able to rebuild what we had.

He stirs his soup again, then looks up and ask, "And you? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I ask, slightly puzzled.

He shrugs. "Just wondering, you were pretty upset on the phone yesterday...."

I bite my bottom lip and look down at the tabletop. I shouldn't have broken down like that, I know that, but this whole case just keeps getting worse, and the thought of the pain that little girl and her Mom had to go through was really getting to me. I couldn't help but thinking of Emily, and when I heard his voice on the phone, I just couldn't hold it together anymore, because there's no other person on the planet that makes me feel more safe than he does. I realize that, although he's usually the one screwing things up - and then relying on me to fix it - I'm expecting him to fix the things I can't handle, and usually he does. It's like he always finds some extra strength when I need him. The promise he made years ago, when he told me he'd always be there for me, wasn't just something he said – he really meant it. He's been keeping that promise through the years, and of course that makes me love him even more.

I look up again and meet his gaze. His eyes are filled with worry and concern, and I swallow hard to keep myself from crying again. I don't want him to worry about me but, at the same time, it feels so good to have someone who cares.

"I know, I'm sorry. It's just that...it was really awful...and I was thinking of Em and...." I shake my head to get rid of both images and the urge to cry. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to sound like a wimp, I just...I'm sorry, Bos."

I know my statement sounds pretty confused and incomplete, but as usual, what I can't say with words he reads from my eyes.

His eyes are soft and filled with compassion, and something else, that my twisted mind wants to call love. Then he reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. "Hey. It's OK. You're not a wimp. You're human."

I swallow hard, unable to tear my gaze away from his. "I know, but I didn't mean to dump this on you, too. You have enough stuff going on as it is."

He lets go of my hand, and I have to restrain myself to keep from holding on to it. It feels so good to be touched by him. It feels like I'm untouchable to all hurt, both emotional and physical, as long as he holds on to me, but as soon as he let go, I feel lonely again.

"Don't worry about me. I'll manage, and I thought we'd been through this stuff before. It's OK to dump stuff on me. I'm not anybody," he replies shortly and I can see the hurt in his eyes.

Shit...here we go again. He's never going to forgive me for that one.

"I know that, Bos. I never meant to...."

"It's OK. I know what you meant. Come on, let's go," he says giving me a small smile as if trying to reassure me that everything is OK, but I'm pretty sure it isn't, and I hate myself for destroying the moment with distrust – again. I can only hope that this time, he'll be able to see that I'm only trying to protect him

I can't believe how fast things have gotten out of hand lately. Everything seems to fall apart: my marriage, and the case with the little girl, but the worst part is what has happened to Mikey. Just as I thought, Cruz managed to screw things up real bad. Instead of helping him out, and being grateful for the information she was given, she tried to throw him in jail for murder – of a cop no less. His lawyer turned out to be a scumbag and an abuser, and their father.... Their father turned out to be the worst of them all. I still can't believe he was willing to turn in his own son for money.

He really is an evil man. You can tell by the look in his eyes. It's cold and hard, and it actually gives me the chills. There's no doubt that if you're standing in his way, you're going to pay dearly. It's also pretty obvious that Bosco's stood in his way several times over the years, and paid a high price for that. Neither of them show the other any love or affection, and it's actually hard to believe that they're father and son, but it's easy to tell that it's real hard on Bos to be around him. Whatever punishment his father gave him as a child, it had to be something really cruel and awful. I know it, because, every so often, there's a glimpse of terror in Bosco's eyes when he looks at him. And no matter how hard he tries, he can't hide it – at least not from me, and probably not from Anthony, either.... I'm slowly starting to hate this man. Not because he's ever done anything to me, but because of what he's done – and still does – to Bosco.

All these things have been very hard on Bos, and I know I haven't been there for him as I should have, but it's so complicated. My own life seems to turn into an even bigger mess with every day that goes by, and I don't know how to handle that, but worst of all, I don't know how to reach Bos anymore. I'm not even sure if he wants me to care or not, and just to make everything as awful as possibly; now poor Mikey is dead.

Dead, mutilated, left in a dumpster, like all he ever was was a piece of trash, and it's all Cruz fault. She just had to push it – and now he's dead. I really wish that Mikey had been content with getting clean, and concentrated on staying that way, instead of trying to pay the city back.

He didn't need to do what he did. He didn't need to prove anything to anyone. All he needed to do was to stay clean and love his brother - that was all Bosco ever asked for. But it's too late for that now, and I know I have to be there for him – now more than ever.

I take a deep breath and try to summon enough courage to call him. The problem is that I don't know what to say. I'm having a hard time understanding that Mikey is dead, and I didn't even know him all that well. I can only begin to imagine how totally surreal his dead must feel to Bosco, and the way he died...I don't want to think about how hard that must be on Bos.... I don't want to think about what the blame is doing to him right now – what kind of state he's in.... Because of course he blames himself – he always does.

I take another deep breath and dial the so familiar number, silently begging for him to pick up, but he doesn't. Instead I get his answering machine, and I'm listening to the message, but I don't bother to leave any; I try his cell phone instead. No answer. Maybe he's with his Mom, trying to comfort her.... I bite my bottom lip and try to decide whether to call her or not. I decide not to. I don't want to intrude in their grief. They probably need to be alone. I dial his home number again; maybe he's home by now. Once again his answering machine picks up, and I decide to leave a message to show him that I care.

I clear my throat. "Hi, Bosco. It's me. I...uh...I don't even know what to say. I'm just checking on you. Give me a call? I'm thinking about you. Bye."

I hit the end button and rest my hands in my lap, absently playing with the phone, thinking about Bosco. Suddenly, Fred's angry voice jerks me back to reality.

"You're awake. You haven't been home in two days."

Oh, God, not now. I can't deal with him and his accusations right now. "I know," I answer and put my head in my hands, hoping that he'll take the hint and leave me alone. No such luck.

He still sounds pissed when he replies, "You got nothing to say about it?"

Here we go.... He's always patronising me and now he's questioning me like a teen-ager, who's been violating the house rules – his house rules.

"It's this little girl...and I have to help her. She's being abused," I say hesitantly. It's hard to explain without saying too much.

"Huh. Any idea why?" he asks, and I'm actually staring to believe that he will understand this time.

"She has sick twisted parents, Fred. The whole thing is so awful." I can hear the touch of despair in my voice and I'm expecting to hear compassion and concern in Fred's voice.

But there's none. Instead, he raises his voice. "No, Faith. Why do you have to help her? What makes you have to?"

I shouldn't be surprised, I know that, but I'm still amazed at the total lack of compassion and understanding he's been showing lately.

I run my hand tiredly through my hair and try again. For some reason, I need him to understand this one. "I don't know. I guess if it was Emily, I'd want someone to help her."

"Yeah, I guess," he answers calmly.

"So you understand?" I ask hopefully.

"We all gotta do what we gotta do," he answers and leaves the room.

I close my eyes, and thank God that he at least didn't ask whom I was calling. But before I even have time to finish the thought, he peaks his head into the room again, and says in a cold, almost mocking voice, "And I guess that includes calling your partner in the middle of the night."

"Stop it, Fred!" I reply angrily. "He found out today that his bother was killed. I'm just checking that he's all right."

Fred rolls his eyes. "Of course, there's always something going on that he can't handle without your help, isn't there?"

"Fred!" I almost shout, because this is more than I can take. If he can't even show compassion to someone who's lost his own brother, just because that person is Bosco, then I don't know if I can live with him anymore.

I'm about to tell him that when he throws his arms in the air and says, "You know what? Do as you please! Call him all you want, whenever you want. I know he's always been more important to you than your family, but do you know what, Faith? I don't care anymore. I don't care at all!" and with that, he turns around and leaves.

"Come on, Bos! Answer!" I whisper desperately in the phone.

It's almost 4:00 and I still can't get hold of him. He doesn't answer his cell phone, and I keep getting his answering machine when I call his apartment. He hasn't called me back, and an hour ago I gave in and called his Mom. That only made me worry more, though, because she said he'd left almost five hours ago. She was very nice, said it was nice of me to care, but that she was sure he was OK. He'd rather be alone when something was bothering him, and I shouldn't worry because there was nothing strange about it at all. This was how it's always had been. He'd show up again when he felt better - he always has in the past.

I really wish I were as confident of that as she is - but I'm not. Because although she is his mom, and ought to be the person who knows him the best, I'm convinced that she's wrong this time. He's not OK. I can feel it in my gut. I need to find him.

I dial his cell phone number again – still no answer. "Bos, where are you?" I say in a whisper as I start pacing the floor in front of the television set.

"Mom?" Although the voice calling my name does so in a whisper, it startles me, and I jump in surprise.

I turn around and meet Emily's worried eyes. "Mom, why are you trying to get hold of Bosco in the middle of the night? Is something wrong with him?" she asks anxiously.

Of course she's worried. She's still one of his biggest supporters. How could I forget to tell her?

"I don't know, honey, but I'm worried about him. His brother was found dead today and he was very upset about it. I've tried to get hold of him ever since I got home, but he's not answering any of his phones."

Emily gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Mom, that's awful! Poor Bosco!"

"I know."

"And you don't know where he might have gone?"

"No," I whisper unhappily.

"Come on, Mom, think. There has to be some place he might go if he wanted to be alone, or some place he'd feel comfortable - some place special to him. Don't you two have a favourite spot or something?" she asks softly, looking at me with kind, compassion-filled eyes.

There's no trace of the anger and hate that's been there ever since she found out. I love her so incredibly much in this moment because - unlike Fred - she knows when it's time to put her own feelings aside in order to help those who need it. Right now, that person is Bos.

I sit down on the couch, and think about it for a few minutes, and I have to admit I do come up with one or two possible places for him to run to.

I look up at Emily, who's looking at me with expectantly eyes. "You're right. I do know a couple of places," I say hesitatingly.

"Good! Then go and look for him there - and don't worry, I'll handle Dad for you," she says calmly, giving me a small, encouraging smile.

"But I need a car for that, and I can't take the truck. I don't know when I'll be back," I reply unhappily.

"Isn't there anyone you can ask to help you look?" she asks carefully, as if she knew this is a touchy subject.

I run my hand over my hair. "I don't know, Em. Bosco doesn't have that many friends and he doesn't trust many people...." I trail off, begging her with my eyes to understand what I'm not saying.

She doesn't disappoint me, because she nods knowingly. The connection is still there, even though she hates me. She contemplates the problem for a few moments and then her face lights up. "How about Sully? He seems to care a lot about him."

Sully? Yeah, that might be a good idea. He knows exactly how fragile Bos is nowadays, and he was the one who told him Mikey was dead. Yeah, that might work.

I look over at Emily and say gratefully, "Thank you, Emily."

She nods. "You're welcome. Just go and make sure he's all right, OK?"

It's my turn to nod, and then I pick up the phonebook, and look up Sully's number. Sully picks up at the fifth ring. His voice sounds hoarse and grumpy and it's obvious that I woke him up. That makes sense. After all, it's the middle of the night.

"Hi, Sully. It's Faith. I need you to help me look for Bos. He's not answering his phone and he isn't at his Mom's. I'm worried about him."

When he answers he sound wide-awake. "Sure, I'll be outside your place in ten minutes, OK?"

"OK, and, Sul...."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

He just murmurs something that I can't make out and hangs up the phone.

I hang up, too, check my purse for my off duty gun, and grab my coat from the coat rack. Just before I close the door, I hear Emily call softly, "Call me when you find him, OK?"

"Of course," I call back before I close the door and head downstairs to wait for Sully.