Disclaimer: Once again, everything belongs to NBC except for Sam Boscorelli, Sarah Boscorelli, Gordon Sharp, Ray Sharp, and Kelly. Those are mine. (I think I got everyone this time)
Author's Note: I just kinda feel obliged to mention that there area couple of curse words in this chapter, but this story is rated T, so hopefully you won't be surprised.
"Sarah! No! Sam!" Bosco sat up quickly, still in the midst of his nightmare. Sweat poured down his face as he tried to get a grip on himself. He turned to look next to him to make sure he hadn't woken Sam up.
When he had heard her blood-curdling scream from the other room earlier, he had nearly had a heart attack. He ran into her room expecting to see Gordon Sharp. But it was just Sam, tangled in her sheets, tears running down her face, screaming as hard as she could. He had to shake her for a long time before she finally woke up enough to pull herself from her horrible nightmare. He simply picked her up and brought her to his bed.
He didn't know why he hadn't just had her sleep there in the first place. She hadn't had a nightmare since he brought her in the room, but apparently he wasn't as lucky. He took one last look to make sure Sam was still asleep and then stepped into the bathroom to splash his face with cold water. To tell the truth, he was still a little shaky from his dream.
Gordon Sharp's brother, Ray, had been a gun runner for some very dangerous criminals. Bosco and Faith had finally tracked him down to a small shop on a bad side of town. Bosco wasn't really sure what had happened, but there was a shootout, and all he knew was that he had killed Ray. He had been investigated for the shooting, and it had declared a move of self-defenses, and therefore, not his fault.
Apparently Gordon didn't see it that way. Around the time that Sarah was pregnant with Sam, he began receiving calls from what seemed like no one. Every time he answered, all he got was a dial tone. By the time Sam was a year old, the calls had stopped and Bosco didn't think about them again.
He didn't think about them until that one night in October when he got the call over his radio that shots had been fired at his apartment building. The ride to his apartment had been a blur. He didn't remember anything until he burst into his living room and saw her in a pool of her own blood.
It wasn't until after they had taken Sarah's body from the room that Faith had found the note tacked to the door. Gordon Sharp was claiming responsibility for killing his wife and child. It was then that Bosco realized that Sharp thought he had killed them both, instead of just Sarah. He hoped and prayed that there was no way that Sharp would realize that Sam was still alive.
But he did. His case had been very high profile, and since it had been Bosco's wife who was killed and he was the one to catch Gordon Sharp, Bosco was all over the news. The news included the fact that his daughter had survived the vicious attack on his home. Bosco knew that Sharp knew. That's why he was coming here. To finish the job he started. To make Bosco's life truly a living hell.
Bosco was broken out of his sour thoughts when he heard a small cry come from his bedroom. He made his way back there and saw that Sam had woken up. She was him come in the room and visibly relaxed.
"Morning, sweetie," he said as he sat on the bed. "What the matter?"
"Nothing," came her small reply, as she scooted over next to him and put her arms around his chest. He held her back. Then, the phone rang.
"Hello?" he said picking the phone up from his nightstand, and noticing the clock beside the bed, wondered who was calling at 6:30 in the morning. At first, there was nothing but air, and Bosco suddenly developed a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Hello?" He tried again.
"Good morning Mr. Boscorelli," came a sickeningly sweet male voice. "This is your wake up call." The man hung up.
The window exploded. Bosco heard the unmistakable sounds of Sam screaming and bullets riddling the bedroom wall of his third floor apartment as he grabbed Sam and rolled onto the floor. It took Bosco a second to realize that the shots were coming from somewhere outside the apartment. He pushed Sam underneath the bed and went to get his gun from the nightstand.
By the time he had opened the drawer, however, the bullets had ceased. All that remained was the sound of his heavy breathing and Sam's sobbing from beneath the bed. He quickly pulled her out and checked her over to make sure she hadn't been hit.
When he was sure that she was alright, physically at least, he held her tightly in his lap, and from the floor, dialed the 55th precinct. As he was telling them what happened, he found himself shaking horribly as he saw the holes that now covered the wall opposite the window.
"Mommy," Sam said softly, still crying. Bosco looked down at her, surprised, until he realized that this was probably very similar to what had happened six years ago.
"Shhh, baby, Mommy's not here right now. It's alright. I got you. You're safe," he said, gently rocking her.
"Officer," came the lieutenant's voice from the phone. "Do you have any idea who could have done this?"
"You bet I do," he said, getting suddenly angry. "It was Gordon Sharp, that son of a bitch. Dammit," he said, looking at the seemingly tiny child in his arms. "He is gonna regret this for the rest of his life."