It was difficult walking through the house the next afternoon to report for my shift. I crept through the door, swinging my coat over my shoulder and snaking around sympathetic acquaintances who couldn't offer enough condolences.

I wanted to tell them exactly where to put their trite commiseration, but had a feeling it probably would come out a bit harsh.

It wasn't the cliché pity that made it that way, however. Instead it was the pairs of eyes on me, of everyone who knew too much. Even Lieu, as I solemnly passed his desk. Eying me beadily with a frown, like he was a disappointed father. Like I had stuck up for someone and returned a bully's punch.

So the severity of what I'd done didn't quite compare, but yet… neither had Walker's opposing crime.

Eye for an eye, I call it.

Then there was Sully and Davis, who offered a similar look. It was genuine, but even though it was from them, it still stirred up rage within me. It was too classic, too understanding. I certainly didn't need the entire precinct turning on me, but I also didn't prefer to be known as the 55th's Killer, who's gawked at with well-it's-Bosco-so-what-do-you-expect sort of expressions.

I didn't kill people for no reason. I'd killed a few skels in my career – the ones aiming a gun at me, Faith, other cops or civilians. I knew somewhere inside it was chipping away at me little by little, but I didn't wake up each morning feeling sinful and guilty.

This time it was different. This hadn't been a clean shot, a spur-of-the-moment reaction. Even the rage-induced vengeful hunts for Ma's abusive boyfriends hadn't been carried out so ruthlessly, backed by such profound premeditation.

Before, I was in a fog. Too blurred by the vision of Ma's bruises and cuts to clearly realize what I was doing. This time, though, I could remember my every move leading up to it; every step. I could tell detail for detail what I'd done each hour before it after Sul and I had left Mercy.

Even the thirty-something minute drive outside of our precinct. You can only go so far in a cloud of anger and with a desire for revenge; you have to be clear and level-headed to carry out something so calculated. If I ever tried to plead insanity, I'd be lying cold straight.

It was an awkward feeling. Feeling consumed by still rage for what Walker'd done to Faith, feeling as if he hadn't paid enough for his crime. Another part of me was content that he could never hurt her again. Still, I was shaky and I glanced behind me more times in a day than I was looking straight ahead.

The scene in the alley replayed itself over and over in my mind, more times than the vivid visions I'd had of being shot last year.

I couldn't shake the scenario. And maybe somewhere, some part of me just possibly possessed a bit of remorse; a bit of guilt. Maybe, just maybe.

But I hadn't found that part of me yet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------- //

I was late as I entered the house, darting toward the locker room intent on making it to roll call before it ended. There was a certain someone I was looking for, but I doubted he'd managed to make it to briefing before me.

Wide-eyed, I scanned the room for him, and then hurried into the locker room where I was greeted by an exiting Sully.

"Late, Ty," he observed.

"Hardly," I defended, brushing past him as I rushed toward my locker. I saw him shrug out of the corner of my eye and continue out the door to roll call. Funny, I thought, how even the tiniest of infractions are noticed when you make it a point to regularly not have any. Bosco was late every day, and I guess since it was so routine, no one had anything left to say to him. Today probably marked the second day in my career that I'd been more than five minutes late, but I was going to stick out like a sore thumb. It wasn't like me to say anything though; I was too expected to "go with the flow". Imagine if I, reserved officer Davis, stood up and remarked. They'd probably be convinced I'd suffered some sort of head trauma and send me to Mercy.

I fiddled with my locker until I managed to wrestle the door open. The sound of a flushing toilet made me raise my head, and I watched as the door on the neighboring stall swung open and an exhausted-looking Bosco emerged. He was already in his uniform, but he hardly appeared presentable. His hair was slicked back unkemptly in various directions and deep circles seemed to haunt the underneath of his eyes. He looked ghostly pale and withdrawn, and weak. So weak, that I wouldn't have been surprised to see him mistaken for somebody else. He didn't have that strong physique he'd always had. It looked broken down, thin and worn out. The last few days' events appeared to have taken the same toll on him as his entire time on the force. Anxiety, worry and lack of sleep all clustered into a relentless seventy-two hours.

I couldn't help but feel bad for him as he stumbled wearily toward his locker, though I was tempted to point out all the wrong ways he was dealing with things.

"Hey," I greeted softly, still studying him.

He held his hand up weakly but didn't respond. He'd opened his locker and was rummaging through it for something, and didn't bother to look up.

"What are you lookin' for?" I asked, hoping to elicit a word or two from him. The silence was exceptionally uncharacteristic. He finally rose and lifted his head to face me.

"Don't know," he croaked, shrugging and not bothering to clear his throat. His voice crackled from not speaking, and it sound distant and tired.

I sighed. "You find Cruz?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Was I 'sposed to be lookin' for her?"

"Thought you might wanna give her the heads up and all… before someone knocks on her door, you know." I replied, my tone a bit defensive.

He let out a scornful laugh, and propped himself up against the row of lockers.

"What, you're not gonna tell her we saw her Siamese twin on the news? You think we're the only ones who recognized that picture, Boz?"

Bosco just rolled his eyes, a bitter smile creeping over his cracked and blistered lips. "I'm not her fucking babysitter."

"No, but you did get her into this," I persisted.

I watched him intently as I finished dressing. He didn't respond. He'd now shifted his weight to his right foot and had folded his arms staidly across his chest. The same trademark sarcastic grin labeled his features like a pissed-off Garfield.

His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, indicative of a body running on little sleep and even less to eat.

"You're really gonna let her go down for this?" I questioned finally, making my way to the exit, now not too concerned for my late arrival.

He shrugged vaguely again, staring over my shoulder at the door. "I'm not letting her," he said calmly. "She brought it on herself. She helped me. She's an accomplice."

"No Bosco," I said, straining my voice a bit and holding up a finger to emphasize. "You told me you used all her past corner-cutting to get her to help you. You told me that!"

"So I made her feel bad," he responded just as calmly, still not meeting my eyes. "But I didn't threaten her. She helped. On her own free will."

"Which is exactly why you can't sit back and watch her take the hit, Bosco," I declared, my voice somewhat of a shriek. I could feel anger flaring behind it. He was being completely unreasonable.

"Why not, Ty? Why can't I? Why can't I let her wheedle her own way out of this mess? Why do I have to help her?"

"Because if you don't, she's gonna pin this one on you, Bosco. She'll tell them everything." I watch him angrily as he finally met my gaze, waiting for an answer.

"They'll have to prove it."

"You don't think they can do that? You don't think so?"

He shook his head rapidly, the bitter sneer returning to his face.

"Bosco?" I questioned, taking my hand off the door and stepping closer to him. "You listening to me?"

"Yes," he shrieked, raising his voice. "I'm listening to you, Davis. What the hell do you want me to say? Cruz deserved to go down a long time ago. Did you forget that she shot Faith? She almost killed her, Ty!"

"Two years ago!"

"Why does it matter how long ago it happened? She still did it!"

I couldn't believe how stubborn he was being. I knew Bosco was obstinate and headstrong, but this was becoming too much. There was a tiny voice inside my head questioning my words, and asking if maybe he did have a point. I did my best to ignore it as I continued trying to convince him.

I paused, still glaring at him expectantly. Finally, he let out an exasperated sigh and walked past me toward the door. He stopped mid-step and turned.

"Davis," he said, his voice softer. His face relaxed back into a solemn frown. "I'm not tryin' to let Cruz take the hit for this one. And she won't. She already covered for Faith last year; she won't do it again. She'll tell them…everything…just like you said. And so be it, Ty. I knew what I was doing." He passed a hand through the air dismissively. "So be it."

I stared at him silently for a minute, processing his words. He turned and pulled open the door. "We're late for roll-call. Really late,"

"You're just gonna sit back and hope for the best, Bosco?" I asked finally.

He shrugged sadly. "Nothing left to hope for, Ty." With that, let the door swing shut behind him, and I heard the listless shuffle of his feet across the floor become more and more distant.

------------------------------------------------------------- //

I watch Lieu turn his attention to Bosco who was meandering sluggishly into roll call, late as expected. Swersky shot him a pitiful look, and then trailed his sight to Davis was following not far behind. He narrowed his beady eyes at him, seemingly stunned not to have seen him sitting right beside me already.

Shyly, Davis brushed past Bosco and joined me by my seat, flipping his cap in his hands and shrugging off Lieu's laughably imperious gaze.

"He's not doin' too good, huh?" I asked, nudging my shoulder toward Bosco. He'd discovered a seat a row to our left and was accompanied by an empty chair that he stared wistfully at.

"Understatement, Sul," Ty muttered in my ear. "He's like a zombie. He's like, on autopilot or something."

I shook my head sadly, glancing from Bosco to Lieu and hardly interpreting anything he was saying. Something about a raid that uniforms were to steer clear of, but everything else was a muddled collaboration of non-words. I hoped Ty was listening a bit better than me.

The door creaking open was the first sound to shake me from my reflective thoughts, and I glanced up curiously to see who was entering, as did everyone else.

"Oh," Ty whispered, somewhat surprised.

We watched the figure enter, dressed fully in her uniform, her glossy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looked tired and worn, her face was red from tears, but she was smiling genuinely.

Reflexively, I turned to gauge Bosco's reaction. If there was any color left in his face, it quickly drained away, leaving him a very sickly-looking pale. His expression was worry stricken as she joined him in the empty seat. For a split-second, I thought I saw a wave of relief pass over his features, but the worry just seemed to consume him, quickly overriding any sense of contentment. I could see his lips moving as he quietly said something to her, but I couldn't make out what it was. Her smiled then faded a bit and she shook her head. He rolled his eyes and ran his hands down his face.

I turned to Ty, wide-eyed, who simply exchanged a similarly confused look and just shrugged.

"I don't think---" I spoke suddenly. The familiar clicking of the opening door interrupted me, and once again we turned our heads inquisitively toward the door.

Two nicely-suited men, eerily similar to the FBI, stepped inside, chattering lowly to one another. They scanned the room for a second, before Lieu politely but firmly asked what he could do for them.

"Sergeant Cruz," the younger one announced loudly, hardly acknowledging Lieu and still peering throughout the uniforms as if the tiny sergeant was somewhere hidden amongst us. He waved a piece of paper through the air and sneered, revealing a set of badly discolored teeth. "We have a warrant for her arrest."

A few other officers exchanged quiet "what"s.

Lieu stood at his podium looking extremely grave and silent.

Ty gulped.

Bosco coughed.

Faith laughed.

And I shook my head, again, before mumbling, "Crap!"