TITLE: Third time around

AUTHOR: faith-in-Faith

DISCLAIMER: Do not own a thing

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Maybe she will get it right eventually...

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all for the reviews. They mean a lot to me.
And thank you, Joey. I'd be lost without you. I really hope you will enjoy this. Chapter four is still WIP but I promise to hurry as much as I can.

CHAPTER THREE

I stand on the street outside Miller's apartment. It's pretty late, but I'm in no hurry. I have plenty of time. It's my day off and Faith is at work. She called me an hour ago, cancelling our dinner date. She's going to be late because she had some major breakthrough in a complicated case she has been working on for months. That gave me the idea to come here and settle my business with Miller, once and for all.

It has been almost two weeks now, since Faith and I started from scratch, and I have to admit that I like this even better than what we had before. The tender, physical attraction between us is new but very nice. There's no doubt in my mind that she really loves me just as much as I love her, but we're taking it really slow because there's a lot of stuff from the past that we still need to work out together. For example; I haven't told her the truth about my migraines yet. I know I have to, because in the long run it's going to be awfully hard to hide. Especially if we start spending the night together and especially if it continues the way it has lately. I have had three attacks since the night we reunited and that's a lot more frequent than it used to be. I'm not sure why, but I guess it's the anticipation of having another one, together with the lack of sleep the worry for Faith is causing me.

She keeps saying that I don't have to worry, that she's fine, but I know that isn't true. This Miller business is hard on her but I think there's something else bothering her, too. I don't know what it is, or why I think so, but there's something in her eyes from time to time, a haunted, tormented look that I can't remember seeing there before.

A cab is pulling up to the pavement and I feel myself tense when I identify the man climbing out as Miller.

I take a deep breath and quickly walk up to him. "Miller."

He looks surprised. "Boscorelli, right?"

"Don't play stupid with me. You know very well who I am!"

He looks calmly at me. "Yeah, I know who you are. You can't know Faith without knowing who you are. The question is; what are you doing here?"

Before I get a chance to answer, something dawns on him and he looks worriedly at me. "Has something happened to her? Is she hurt? Is that why you're here?"

I want to punch him in the face for having the nerve to pretend he actually cares about her, but I suppress it. When I hit him I want him to know exactly why I'm doing it.

"Yes, she's hurt and you were the one who hurt her."

He bares his teeth at me in what I guess is supposed to be a smile but it makes him look like a wolf getting ready to tear his prey apart. "Well, that makes two of us."

I feel the air leave my lungs – like he punched me in the stomach – and I know that he's right. I hurt her, too, before he did, and probably just as bad – if not worse.

For a moment I'm overwhelmed with memories – really bad ones. I remember the numerous of times I hurt her with my words and I can't decide which is worse; all the times I hurt her because I'm a thoughtless jerk, or the times I did it on purpose. I guess the times when I did it on purpose are the worst because those times she always had trouble forgiving me, and for the first time in my life I realize that I can't make it up to her. I can't undo all the bad things I've done to her over the years. I can't take away the sorrow and pain I've caused her. I can't make it up to her, but what I can do is do it differently this time. I can show her that I have changed. For a moment the thought makes me so excited I almost forget the task on hand – killing Miller – but his next statement quickly brings me back to reality and reminds me why I need to hurt him.

"I can see that you agree, but don't worry, she's stupid enough not to care and if you want her, feel free. She's no good anyway. She's as useless as a wife as she is as a detective."

My brain tells me not to care. That he's not worth it. He's not an important person in her life anymore and he's lying. He's just trying to hurt her, but my poor brain doesn't stand a chance against my heart – never has. It's has been my downfall more times than I can count and today is no different.

The memories of the hurt, devastated look her eyes and the tears on her cheeks create an enormous rage. It's not just those memories that haunt me, but also the memories from when Fred left her. I remember how she sat beside my bed desperately trying to hide her tears from me. I know she was afraid that I'd get upset and get worse and she tried to be strong for me. I can't remember ever feeling so helpless in my entire life – except when Dad hurt Ma. Faith was hurting and there was nothing I could do to help. I couldn't even say some soothing words because the pain in my cheek made me dizzy. I couldn't help her then. I couldn't kick Fred's ass. I couldn't make things better but this time I can, and before I can stop myself, my fist shoots out and I punch him square on the jaw.

He stumbles backwards and then reaches up and cradles his jaw in his hand, staring at me in disbelief. "You're insane, Boscorelli! Completely insane! I guess that bullet in your head made more damaged than they originally thought."

That comment would usually be rewarded with another punch in his face, but the fact that his words hold more truth than anybody knows makes me sober up. I need to stop now because I can't help Faith from a jail cell, and I remember that I wanted her to know I've changed.

So, I suppress my anger by taking deep breaths, just as the shrink taught me, and reply, "Just stay away the hell way from her. I don't want you anywhere near her, or her apartment, again. If I ever see you near her again, I'm gonna kick your ass so bad, you'd wish you were dead. Do I make myself clear?"

"Is that a threat I hear? If I report you, you could lose your job."

I look calmly at him. "Just go ahead. There's no witnesses – just your word against mine."

He smirks at me. "Yeah, and I'm a superior officer. People would believe me over you."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that if I was you. I'm a decorated hero, remember? Maybe I'm known as a screw-up, but I'm also known as someone who always has my colleagues' backs. Would you really take the chance and mess with someone who took a bullet in his head to save his partner?"

He shakes his head in disgust. "Just stay away from me."

"Just stay away from Faith and you'll never have to hear from me again."

Without another word, he turns around and disappears through his front door.

I take a deep breath in order to calm myself down but it's not working very well and I'm starting to fear that the tension is going to cause another migraine. I grab my cell phone from my pocket and dial Faith's number. I need to hear her voice because it always calms me down when I'm upset.

55555555

"So, where do you wanna eat?" Faith asks with a smile.

"Doesn't really matter," I say with a slight shrug, desperately trying to ignore the faint pressure behind my eyes.

It's the first sign of a migraine attack and I know it all too well, but I can't have one now. This is like our first real date and that's not a good time for her to find out about my secret. Since we made up we have gotten together a couple of times at her, or my place, but this is the first time we're doing something in public and, considering the fact that neither of us are sure about what this new connection means, it's a huge step forward. So it would really suck if I spoiled it all by having a migraine.

She smiles again. "What about the pasta place around the corner?"

I nod in agreement. "Sounds good. I remember it as a good place."

It's a great idea in more than one way because it's in a walking distance and that means I don't have to pretend to be able to drive if I get a migraine. And, with some luck, the fresh air will make me feel better.

I push around the lasagne on my plate and try to bring myself to eat it, but the pulsating pain in my temples and cheek makes me feel nauseous and it's difficult to focus on the task on hand. No matter how much I don't want to, I'm coming down with a migraine, and God knows how I'm going to hide the truth to Faith this time. I know it's just a matter of time before she's going to notice that something is wrong.

The next words out of her mouth confirm my fears. "You OK, Bos?"

OK here goes nothing. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She frowns. "Then why aren't you eating?"

I sigh. No luck there. It's time to try another way to approach this and I decide to try the kind of half-lie I'm so good at nowadays. Since I woke up, I have discovered that the closer you get to the truth, the greater the chance people will believe your lies.

"I don't feel so hot, OK?" No lie there.

She looks worriedly at me. "What's wrong?"

"I have a headache and…." My voice trails off and I swallow hard. We're getting a little too close to the truth for me to feel comfortable, but this is how this half-lie stuff works.

"Again? Bosco, that's like twice in two weeks. What's going on?" Make that four.

Ok, let the lying begin. "I don't really know but I feel like I'm coming down with the flu or something." I answer and look down at my plate – just in case she stills has the ability to see when I'm lying.

"Yeah? You sure look pale," she says compassionately and gently touches my cheek.

Her touch is feather-light and makes me shiver which – conveniently enough – makes her think I have chills.

"Come on, let's go home and get you in bed, where you belong," she says firmly and waves at the waitress.

When she shows up Faith asks for the bill and then turns to me again. "Why didn't you tell me you're not feeling well?"

She looks worried and concerned, but not angry, and I'm very grateful for it, because if she starts yelling, my head is going to explode.

I close my eyes. "I didn't want to spoil the evening, but I guess I managed to do so anyway."

She reaches out and squeezes my hand. "Oh, Bos. That's sweet of you but you didn't spoil anything. It's not your fault you're sick."

I smile weakly in return. The waitress comes back and I take the opportunity to rest my eyes while Faith takes care of the bill. This wasn't how I planned things. I had every intention of paying for both of us, but I'm in no condition to argue with her.

Then I feel her hand on my arm and she says softly, "Come on, Bos. Let's get you home."

I open my eyes and realize my vision is blurry. Shit! That's all I need right now. It has been a long time since I wasn't already at home when this happens. I have learned to handle my migraines pretty good over the years, but there are always times when things get in the way, and this is definitely one of them.

I stand up. The inability to focus my eyes properly makes me feel slightly dizzy and I grab the table for support.

Faith quickly grabs my arm. "You OK, Bos?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"You think you gonna be able to make it home, or do you want me to call a cab?"

"No it's OK. It's just a block."

Once outside, I wince when the glare from the streetlights hurts my eyes. I can feel Faith's eyes on me but she makes no comment about it. We slowly make our way down the street in silence. My head hurts so bad that I just want to lie down on the street and die and I wonder how the hell I'm going to be able to drive home – especially, with my blurry vision. When we reach her apartment, I carefully break free from her hold and start heading toward my car.

Faith quickly takes hold of me again and says, "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"Home, of course."

I sound a lot more irritated than I intended to but I'm feeling worse with every passing second and I know it's not going to be long before I throw up. Not to mention how I really need my painkillers. I don't know if I'm going to survive without them.

"I don't think you should be alone right now. It seems like you have caught a really nasty bug. I think it's better if you stay at my place for now," she answers softly, gently rubbing my arm.

"It's OK, Faith, I can handle it. I'm a big boy."

"And how are you supposed to get there? You're in no condition to drive."

There's a hint of anger in her voice but it's almost hidden behind the fear and I feel bad for scaring her, but I can't soothe her now. I need to go home and lie down before I start puking or pass out on her.

I tiredly close my eyes. "Please, Faith. Don't start nagging me. I really need to go home and get in bed."

"You can have my bed."

"Please, Faith. I really wanna go home."

She sighs. "OK, but I'm driving you there and I'm staying with you until you feel better."

Great! Just what I need! How the hell am I going to keep this a secret if she stays around? I don't have any strength left to argue with her, though. My wish for death is overwhelming right now, so I just hold out my car keys to her.

I can tell that my lack of resistance is making her even more worried, but – just like before – she says nothing – just unlocks the car and helps me inside.

I spend the whole car ride trying to keep myself from throwing up and when we finally reach my apartment the headache is so bad I think I'm going to pass out. Once inside, I immediately make my way to the bathroom, happy that we're in my apartment since I can barely see the way through my blurry vision. I kneel down on the floor in front of the toilet and start puking and – as usual – I want to die. I hate puking. I hear Faith entering the bathroom behind me and get the water in the sink running.

I lick my lips and inhale slowly. The nausea is gone and I thank the Lord for the small favours. I can feel Faith's presence behind me and a chill runs down my spine when her soft hand gently strokes my back.

"Bos?" Her voice is as soft as her hands.

"Mmm."

"Here." A cold, damp towel revel itself in front of my face.

I take it and wipe my face before returning it to her. It feels wonderful and makes me think of my Ma. She used to wipe my face with a cold washcloth when I got sick as a kid.

"You done?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, let's get you in bed," she says gently and drags me onto my feet.

Feeling my brain explode in my head, I moan slightly. "Painkillers, Faith. I need my painkillers.

She nods. "I'll get you some Tylenol as soon as I've got you in bed."

I close my eyes in desperation. This is working going horribly and I realize I have two choices: try to live through this without my painkillers, or face Faith's wrath when she finds out the truth. It's not an easy choice because both are going to hurt. While my poor, aching brain tries to make a decision, Faith helps me to the bedroom and into my bed. She covers me with blankets and sits down on the edge of my bed, carefully stroking my scared cheek.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. My head is killing me."

"Poor, Bos. This bug really hit you hard, huh?"

OK, so this is it. I can't take this another minute. Not the pain and not the lies. They are both killing me. I need to tell her the truth, although I fear it's going to be the end of us.

"Faith, can you please get me my painkillers?"

"Sure, Bos. I have some Tylenol in my purse. I'll go and get them for you."

She stands up and is about to leave when I grasp her wrist. "No Tylenol, Faith. I need my migraine pills. They are in the middle shelf in the bathroom cupboard."

She appears frozen for a moment. "Why would you need migraine pills for the flu, Bos? Wait a minute…why do you even have migraine pills?"

I close my eyes, unable to look at her when I confess. "Faith, there's something I need to tell you. I don't have the flu. I get migraines."

She looks at me with a puzzled expression on her face. "Migraines? You get migraines?"

"Yeah."

She runs her hand over my hair in a loving gesture. Probably the last one I'll ever have from her. "Poor, Bos. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Why would I worry?"

"Isn't that what you do best?"

She smiles warmly. "You're right."

Then, suddenly, her hand stops in the motion and her body gets stiff, and I know I'm caught.

"For long have you got migraines?"

I don't answer, somehow hoping for a miracle to help me out of this mess.

"Bosco?"

"Pretty much since I got home from the hospital."

She takes her hand away and stands up. "Your eye isn't OK either, is it?"

The anger I expected isn't there. Instead, her voice is shaky, like she's afraid or trying not to cry. I wonder why, but at this point, my head hurts too badly for me to be able to figure it out.

"Please, Faith, I can't do this right now. I'm sorry."

She nods slowly. "OK, I'll go and get you your painkillers and leave you alone so you can rest." And with that she leaves the room.

She comes back, just moments later, carrying a glass of water and my pills.

"Sit up," she says shortly.

I do as I'm told.

"The bottle says take two. Is that right?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

She hands me the pills and the water. I down them and try to focus on her through my blurry vision. "I'm sorry, Faith"

"Just rest, Bos. We'll talk about this later. I'll be in the living room if you need anything.

She still doesn't sound angry, just tired and sad, and for some reason that's even more frightening. I watch her disappear from the room and close my eyes, silently begging that she will find in her heart to forgive me, but I doubt it. I know the fact that I made her look like a traitor and liar, accusing her for betraying me, when all the time I was the one who lied and betrayed, is going to be the end of our friendship, because who wants a friend like that? Not Faith, that's for sure, and the thought of losing her makes my head hurt even more.