Author's Note: I don't know exactly how long it takes to recuperate from being shot in the severity that Bosco's injuries are stated as being. I am merely guessing. Hopefully, I was close enough to the correct time limit to make this plausible.

As they drove through the streets, Maritza noticed he took a turn different than the one to his apartment.

" Where are we going," She asked.

" My place," He replied," It's just over this hill."

" But I thought..." Maritza trailed off.

" I moved," He said quietly.

It was then that Maritza noticed Bosco wasn't driving his Mustang. He was driving a black SUV. A new, black, SUV. There had been more than one change made, she noted silently.

Inside his apartment, Bosco dropped his keys on a table by the door, and led Maritza to the living room. He sat her down, and set the bag with her meds in it on the coffee table.

Sitting gingerly beside the bag, he asked," How you feeling?"

" Cold," Was her answer.

" I can fix that," He got up and disappeared down a hallway. Within a moment he was back, draping a large, puffy green blanket over her.

" Thanks."

" No problem," He re-took his seat on the coffee table," I'll bet you're wondering what the heck's going on."

" That would be my first question," She agreed.

"Well, the guy in the hospital bed at Mercy isn't me," He began," When I was shot, yeah, it was pretty serious. But the doctor exaggerated the extent if my injuries."

" No shit," Maritza muttered.

" I heard that," Bosco chuckled,' What happened was the feds had decided to smuggle the real me out of there, seeing as I was the easiest to get a hold of, and that Mann had never went after Faith's family, or Yoshi's, just mine."

" Mikey," She gasped.

" Yeah, Mikey," Bosco sighed and nodded," So I was airlifted out of Mercy and taken to a different hospital in Philly. They took the glass out of my face and pulled the bullets out of me."

" How many times were you hit?" She wanted to know.

" They didn't make up the number of shots, only the areas of impact. I got two in the stomach, one in my right arm, and one right under my left collar bone."

" I see."

" I'm sorry you all had to be told that I was mortally wounded," He shook his head, " I was hoping they wouldn't tell Ma some crazy, half-baked story."

" Why didn't you come back?" A thought burned through her mind," After Mann died? Why didn't you come back?"

" I was asked to stay," He muttered the next words to himself, " More like told," Then his voice returned tonormal,"and help figure out how exactly Mann died. I knew both of the suspects well, and the FBI thought I could be of service to them."

" Oh."

" I knew that if Mann was going to hurt you, Faith would probably only wound him," He continued," And CT Finney thought that you shot Mann and used Faith as a cover. But that couldn't be right, because when the ballistics checked out, it was my gun that was used to shoot Mann. I felt Faith take my gun out of my ankle holster."

" It was?" Maritza was surprised. No one had mentioned the gun. She had supposed that it was just a regular police issue 9 mil.

" It was. I went through all the evidence, and all the pictures, and I went through all I knew about the two of you. The only thing the FBI didn't figure on was Captain Finney being in such a rush to write you up. He really doesn't like you."

" Tell him to join the club," Maritza muttered," I figured you'd be the president."

" Why?"

" Because I, you said it was my fault Mikey died, and then there was when Yokas got shot," She looked him directly in the eyes," Why are you doing this?"

" Because I was wrong. Because I'm sorry. Because I still want to be friends," He answered," I'm sorry I yelled at you about the whole Mikey deal."

Maritza nodded," That really hurt, you know."

Bosco stared at her for a second. She had never been open about her feeling like that before. After the first night they had spent together, she had totally blown him off, accused him of getting clingy.

He opened his mouth to say something, and that was when he noticed her tears. Putting his arms around her, he maneuvered himself to sit on the couch, cradling her in his lap, "Don't cry Ritza."

She just sobbed against his shirtfront. Rocking her gently, minding not to hold her too tightly and hurt her ribs, he realized all the information he had basically thrown at her was taking its toll. He held her until she had exhausted her tears, and fell asleep in his arms. Probably her first restful sleep in a while, he thought. Easing himself off the couch, he carried her to his bedroom, and tucked her into his bed. She immediately released her hold on him, to grasp one of his pillows.

He backed silently out of his room; leaving the door open a crack to hear her if she needed him. He went back to his living room and settled himself back onto the couch. If he ever got his hands on the group that had hurt her, they would be sorry they had ever heard the name Cruz.

Glancing at his watch, he realized it was almost ten' o'clock. He wasn't tired. Flicking through the channels on his TV, he found pretty much nothing on. Not unless you wanted to see another documentary on the life cycle of some endangered species. He turned off the TV, and leafed through the pile of mail he had left on his counter that morning. Bill, junk, bill, junk, and a letter. The letter was from his sponsor child in Africa. The little boy's name was Tito. He lived in West Africa. Most of his family had starved, or been killed during a war in Africa Bosco hadn't known had happened. The only ones that were left in his family were Tito, his older brother, and his youngest sister. Tito wrote almost every week, sending pictures he had drawn himself or a report from school. Bosco wrote back nearly as often. The young boy was funny, and he often sent jokes in his letters. Bosco cut cartoons from the funny pages from the newspaper and sent them to Tito. The kid was quick too, and he was learning really fast. So said the reports Bosco got from Tito and from Tito's school. He was proud of the boy, and knew his family was too, if the occasional letter he received from Tito's older brother meant anything.

Reading Tito's letter, Bosco laughed quietly to himself. How did the elephant hide in the strawberry patch?

" By painting his toenails red," Bosco answered in a low voice.

Smiling, he sat back down on the couch. Reading Tito's letters and wondering how a child with so little, could be so happy, always put things into perspective for him. Bosco pulled the puffy green blanket over him, and drifted into a comfortable sleep.

Author's Note (2): Sorry it took so long for an update. Exams. Oy. D

Reviews:

quacksd: I'm glad I have your attention.

T: I was wondering what happened to you…

Lindz: Thanks, read on and you'll find out where I'm headed with this.

Caz-10-5- Another chapter, coming up!

Detective Faith Boscorelli- I couldn't quite make out the meaning of your review… :D

Phelipa- Bosco and Cruz. What's not to love:D