TITLE: Third time around

AUTHOR: faith-in-Faith

DISCLAIMER: Don't own any of this.

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Let's try again, maybe we get it right this time….

SPOILERS: Nothing to spoil anymore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you, Joey, for sticking around, never giving up on me and my writing and thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing. :D So here it is; chapter two of this. I really hope you will like it. :)And no worries, I have already done the sad take on the lousy last eppi. This is eventually gonna have a happy ending. :)

CHAPTER TWO

I take a deep breath and knock on Faith's door. While I'm waiting for her to answer, I run my hands over my hair and down my shirt, hoping I look OK. I know I'm pale and I know she's going to notice, but it can't be helped. I'm always pale the day after a migraine attack. Probably because I still have a faint headache and feel slightly nauseous.

I hear footsteps approaching from inside the apartment and then the door opens, revealing a smiling Faith. "Hi, Bos. Thanks for coming."

I smile back. "No problem, I wanted to be here. How are you? Feeling any better?"

She shrugs and bites down her bottom lip.

I move inside and close the door. As I take off my jacket I glance around. I haven't been here since the mess with Emmy and Dante, but I think it looks pretty much the same.

She takes the jacket from me and puts it on the coat rack. "Let's go and sit down," she says softly and I can tell that she's very nervous.

When we're moving into the living room, I notice a few new pieces of furniture and books that have to be Miller's. I guess he hasn't official moved out yet. Faith's nervousness makes me nervous, too, and – once again – it feels like we're strangers instead of best friends. But I'm determined not to let it scare me this time. She has always had a hard time admitting she needs help – she's too proud – and the fact that it has been a long time since we talked at all, doesn't make it any easier. But I know she needs me, and I'm not about to let her down one more time because of foolish pride.

I shift slightly on the couch, so I'm able to face her, and I'm just about to ask her what happened when she beats me to it. "How was your shift?"

OK, so this is how she wants to play it. She's trying to avoid talking about her own problems by focusing on me, but that's OK. I'm not in a hurry and I intend on getting her to talk sooner or later.

I shrug. "OK, I guess. I was assigned to foot patrol. It's kind of tiring, not to mention boring."

"I bet," she says softly. "You know, you don't have to be here if you don't want to. I mean, if you're too tired and want to go home, it's perfectly all right. We can hang out some other time."

"No, it's OK. I'm fine."

"You sure? You look kind of pale."

I sigh inwardly. I hate this. I knew she was going to notice and now I'll have to watch my step so she doesn't figure things out before I summon enough courage to tell her the truth. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God….

I decide to keep as close to the truth as possible. "Yeah, I'm sure. I just have a slight headache, that's all."

Her eyebrows furrow and she gazes at me with concern. "That doesn't sound good. Do you want me to get you some Advil or something?"

Advil? Yeah, why not? At this point it might actually help. "That would be great, thanks. If it's not too much trouble."

She shakes her head and stands up. "No, not at all."

She heads out into the kitchen and comes back almost immediately with a glass of water and two Advil. I down them quickly and smile gratefully at her when I return the glass.

"You sure you're OK? I can't remember you getting headaches – unless you were hung-over, or had a concussion."

I smile slightly. "True."

"So, what's going on then?"

I shrug again. "Nothing special, maybe I'm getting old."

"Maybe you're coming down with something," she says worriedly, completely ignoring my attempt to lighten the mood.

"Maybe," I answer vaguely.

"You should head home and go to bed."

Her eyes are big and dark with worry and it makes me feel even worse for misleading her, but, as things are, it's better for her to think I'm getting sick than knowing the truth. The problem with Faith has always been that she's too smart, too perceptive. She's great at figuring things out and never misses the small details. That skill makes her a great detective, but a kind of scary person to have as a friend because it feels like she can look into your soul.

I reach out and take her hand, half expecting her to pull back, but she remains still, looking intensely at me. "No, Faith. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened with Miller."

Her eyes suddenly look shiny – like she's trying not to cry. "It doesn't really matter, Bos. It's over. Let's just forget about it, OK?"

I squeeze her hand gently and say reassuringly, "We will, but not until you tell me what happened."

"Why, Bos, why? Why do you need to know so badly?"

"Because it's obvious that you're hurting because of it and it's not good to bottle things up inside."

No to mention that I need to know exactly how much damage I have to do to Miller next time I see him.

"Says who?"

I smile. "You."

She smiles back. "Got me there."

I nod. "So what happened?"

She looks down on our joined hands and it's easy to tell that she's close to tears. I squeeze her hand again. "Faith?"

"It was like Fred all over again," she finally whispers.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"He said I wasn't devoted enough. That I worked too much, choosing work over us. Stuff like that."

I stare at her in disbelief. "But that doesn't make sense. He's a cop, too, never-the-less a detective. He ought to know how it works – that our kind of work doesn't necessarily stop because the shift is over."

"That's what I said, too, but he said that if we both put work first our relationship was doomed."

"And I guess you're the one who was supposed to work less?"

She nods wordlessly, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over.

"And then he left?"

She doesn't answer, just keeps her eyes glued to our joined hands. I reach out and carefully lift her chin so I can look into her eyes. Tears are silently running down her cheeks and her sadness makes it hard for me to breathe. "Faith?"

"He didn't leave. I threw him out," she whispers shakily.

I feel my stomach tighten with fear. What did that bastard do to her?

"Why, Faith? What happened?" I coax gently.

For the longest moment she just looks at me, different emotions flickering in her eyes. There's anger, sadness and regret and finally she says, "He cheated on me."

"What? You gotta be kidding me!"

She shakes her head sadly. "No, he told me last week. She's some kind of press-secretary over at the mayor's office."

"I so very sorry, Faith," I say softly, gently caressing her cheek.

I want to sooth her but I'm obviously making it worse because she buries her head in her hands and bursts out into a flood of tears. For the briefest moment, I just stare at her not sure what to do. Faith breaking down in front of me over and over again is so new it makes me confused and unsure of what to do, but then I get my senses back and quickly wrap my arms around her. I hold her tight and gently rub her back as the sobs wrack through her body, and I make a mental note to make sure there's other people around when I confront Miller about this because that's the only thing that will keep me from killing him.

A couple of minutes later, her crying subsides a bit and the sobs are less violent. She squirms slightly in my arms and I loosen my hold on her so she can pull away if she wants to. But that causes her to press her face harder into my shoulder and I tighten my grip again.

"It's OK, Faith. It's OK. I'm here now, everything is gonna be OK," I say softly, while stroking her hair and gently kissing her temple.

"Why, Bos? Why?" she asks in a muffled voice, her face still firmly pressed into my shirt.

"Why what, Faith?"

"Why do all the men in my life leave me behind? Why aren't I good enough? Why do they find me so easy to replace?"

I swallow hard, feeling like a big ass because this is a question I actually know the answer to, but I don't want to tell her.

"We don't think you're easy to replace," I whisper softly.

"Then why do they cheat on me?"

"Because you're too good, too patient, too reliable. We think you're gonna be there no matter what and when we realize you won't – it's already too late – we have lost you."

She pulls away slightly and dries at her tears. "So it's true then: it is my fault."

I shake my head sadly. "No, it isn't."

She looks confused. "But that's what they said, both of them, and that's what you're saying now. You all leave me because the way I act."

"True. But there's nothing wrong with the way you act. You act the way good, faithful people act."

"Then why do all my relationships fall apart?"

"Because you choose the wrong guys, Faith. That's the only thing you ever do wrong. You choose assholes who don't have the common sense to appreciate what they have. We're big jag-off's that don't deserve you. It's as simple as that."

She pulls away a bit further and asks slightly puzzled, "Why do you keep saying we, Bos? You have never done something like this. We have never been together and you said you'd never do such a thing to me, remember?"

I look down in my lap, unable to look her in the eyes when I respond. "That's only because I already have."

She puts her hand on my cheek, trying to get me to look at her, but I refuse. "What do you mean, Bos? I don't understand." Her voice is soft and filled with confusion.

"Yes, I have – with Cruz. I cheated on my partner and best friend with an unfaithful bitch."

"Bos, that's hardly the same–"

"Yes it is!" I say harshly. "That's the exact same thing, just worse."

"Bos…listen to me." Her eyes and voice are soft with concern, but I cut her off again.

"No, you listen to me. I need to say this. I know you have always wondered why I did what I did. Why I chose Cruz over you. That's your answer. You're too good, too reliable and too faithful and I wasn't smart enough to realize what I had. I took you for granted. It never occurred to me that I could lose you, but I almost did. I almost lost you and not only once, but twice. First you almost died because of me and then, when God was good enough to give you back to me, I almost lost you as a friend and that almost killed me. That's why I took those bullets for you."

"Because you didn't want to lose me?" she whispers, her voice thick with tears.

I nod firmly and gently wipe away one of her tears with my thumb. "That, and because I love you."

She gazes intently at me. "You do?"

I nod again. "I do."

She swallows hard. "And I love you and I can't live without you either. That's why I didn't believe you. I was so afraid to lose you. I was so afraid you would get yourself killed. I'm sorry, Bos. I'm so very sorry. In the end we lost each other anyway and it was my fault. I'm so sorry. I should have believed you."

I draw her back into my embrace, not only because I want to sooth her but also because I'm afraid she will see the truth in my eyes. I'm terrified she will see that she was right all a long.

"It's OK, Faith. I understand; let's forget it ever happened, OK?"

She nods against my chest and I can feel my shirt getting wet from her tears. "OK."

I close my eyes tightly, trying not to think of starting our new relationship with another secret, with another lie, but the fear that the truth, once it comes out – and it always does, that's something I've learned over the years – is going to kill us, makes me feel sick.

TBC…