I didn't even bother looking at the caller ID when my cell phone rang. I figured it was Lieu calling to ask where the hell I was and how come I was taking so long. I sighed, not bothering to think of some other excuse besides having gotten into a screaming match with Bosco.

"Look Lieu, I'm less than two minutes away. If that's not good enough, just let me know and I'll have Manny here run this red light…" I said angrily, letting out a breath once I'd finished.

"Cruz?" came the hushed voice on the other end. I froze. I'd been certain it was Swersky. "It's Yokas."

"Oh," I replied, lowering my voice. Anger quickly got the best of me. I'd gone all the way to Bosco's place, but now she wanted to talk after I'd already left? "Yeah? What the hell do you want?"

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

I tossed and turned in my bed, periodically burying my head beneath my pillow, trying to muffle the voices reverberating off the walls of my brain. It was an eerie combination of sounds; Faith crying, Cruz yelling, Walker screaming, and the sickening sound of crushing bones…and metal against a skull. And then there were the images…God how I tried to push them away. I closed my eyes as hard as I could, but it only made them come into better view. Horrible images. Flashbacks playing in my mind like an outdated film, complete with a surreal, unsettling feeling of despair. The memories were hauntingly distorted, yet the pictures…the people…were evidence of the reality. I saw her figure slouched over on the edge of the hospital bed as I walked toward her, and I saw her face as she looked up at me. It'd been so frightened; so fraught with terror and helplessness. That's when I saw him behind her, nothing more than a dark shadow. Then suddenly, I was in an alley. It wasn't the alley on 42nd, but I knew exactly what my mind was attempting to convey. All the rage I'd gathered when I'd been at the hospital came barreling back in the force I put behind my weapon as I hurled it down on top of Walker, who was writhing desperately before me. Then I saw blood. More and more and more. It didn't seem to end.

I screamed, throwing my pillow the bed and slamming my fists onto the mattress in pure frustration. I wasn't sure what I was trying accomplish, but I thought maybe trying to claw my way out of my own skin would be a good place to start. Least then I wouldn't have to deal with the images; the reflections –the nightmares that stubbornly refused to end.

Then I cried. Softly at first; more of an aggravated moaning…but the tears quickly filled my eyes, dripping quickly down and into the sheet and I cried harder. I don't know what for; a combination of things, I guess. Over my own sobs, I could hear Faith's voice from the kitchen; it was quiet and vague, and I couldn't make out her words. But I could hear her, and it reminded me that I was crying for her, because of everything she'd been through, and everything she'd probably have to go through before this was over.

And for me. Because no matter how strong I tried to portray myself, it was messing me up inside.

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

Cruz's words were harsh and loud. I didn't take it to heart, though; it was purely typical. I just bit my lip and kept on.

"Well," she persisted, "What is it?"

I cleared my throat. "You said you wanted to talk…"

She let out a bitter laugh. I could hear her speaking to Manny without taking the phone away from her mouth. "You hear this, Manny? She wants to talk. She wants to talk now, after we drove way the fuck over there and back."

I sighed. It seemed hopeless. I'm not sure what I expected to achieve out of it. I guess I was hoping I could make her feel guilty, and perhaps evoke some sort of decency from her.

"Look Cruz, I'm sorry—"

"You're sorry?" she interceded loudly, again laughing like some drugged hyena. "I just went out my way to talk to you, and you stood there while your overzealous boyfriend pushed me around and threatened me!"

"He didn't know what you were here for---" I began softly.

"It was none of his fucking business! I was there to talk to you, not him."

"Yeah, well you don't exactly have a record of being a harbinger of good news," I said, my voice still low, but irritated. I could feel my anger rising; triggered by her accusing words.

Cue another evil laugh. Her words were calculated and spiteful. "Look, you just tell him to go to hell. And while you're at it, you can go, too."

"Where are you going, Cruz?" I asked, my voice high and questioning.

"Excuse me?"

"I heard Lieu called you in…any idea what that's about?"

She was quiet. Finally she spoke up again. "No…what?"

I didn't answer her.

"Yokas, damn it! If you know what the fuck this is about I'd suggest you tell me, now."

"Or else what, Cruz?! You'll---" I stopped mid-sentence, lowering my voice as I remembered Bosco wasn't far away. If he knew I was talking to her…well…he'd go over the edge.

I could hear Cruz's heavy breathing on the other end…typical of her when she was angry because she felt she was losing. "They have a warrant for your arrest."

"Excuse me?"

"The FBI, goddamnit! Do I have to spell it out for you, Cruz?! They came in during roll call today, asked if we knew where you were. Lieu told them you were out on assignment, and they said they'd be back tonight at the end of your shift. …I take it you didn't see your WANTED sketch on the news, either."

"Bosco's gonna pay for this," she said quietly, rage disguised behind her words.

"Bosco didn't say anything, Cruz. They had a witness."

"Liar! There was no one around, Yokas, nobody. Do I have to spell it out for you?!"

"Apparently you didn't look hard enough now, did you?"

"Me? I'm sorry, I must have been busy trying to convince your partner that killing another cop wasn't a good idea!"

"That's not what he told me," I said, completely letting my purpose for the call fly out the window. I was too angry at her accusations now to even care about the outcome. "He said you helped, Cruz. Willingly, voluntarily…helped…"

"He's lying."

"Right, he's lying. What was I thinking, believing him over you?" I prompted sarcastically. "Well, I'm sure you've never carried out your share of street justice, Cruz."

"I don't kill people!" she hissed. "I don't kill handcuffed prisoners and renowned cops!"

"You mean murderers and rapists. And no…no, you only cover it up, Cruz."

"Well this time I won't," she pointed out, her tone laden with false sincerity. "I should really be honest for a change shouldn't I? You're right, when—"

"Cruz, wait," I pleaded. "You can't do that…."

"I can't? What should I do, then? Go down for this, like I did for you? Well, I'm not, Yokas. I'm not. I'm not goin' back to prison, ever."

"He doesn't deserve this, Cruz," I said quietly.

"And I do?!" she squeaked. "He told me I wouldn't go down for this, Yokas. He promised me it would all be on him. He promised me! So I helped him! So I helped you!"

I closed my eyes tightly. Bosco never told me he'd promised to take the fall. He'd only said she'd joined him voluntarily; no guarantees that she wouldn't blamed. Surely he hadn't been lying.

"He doesn't deserve this," I repeated.

"Neither do I! I didn't beat someone to death!"

"And you've never been raped, either."

"What?"

"I don't know, the name Warner just kinda comes to mind, is all."

"What the fuck do you know about Warner?"

"Well," I offered. "I know he's dead."

She sighed. "So what am I supposed to do, Yokas? Tell me what I should say when they ask why someone saw me there."

"Deny it?" I suggested flatly.

"Deny it? These feds still have a grudge against me! Don't you get it? They're gonna twist this inside out until they nail me!"

She paused for a second.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled finally. "I'm sorry. But I can't go back to prison. I won't."

"You'll go anyway, Cruz," I informed.

"And so will you," she replied. "Obstruction of justice? Withholding information? Isn't that great? Maybe we can all share a cell."

"You turn him in, then you're an accomplice," I told her, trying to ignore of her words. "What's the point in bringing him with you?"

"Maybe getting out sixty years before him."

I could hear her breathing on the other end for a few seconds, and then the line grew silent.

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

I snapped my cell phone shut, angrily throwing it on the car floor near my feet. I clenched my teeth. I could feel Manny's dark eyes just burning a hole in me.

"Walker. Mathew Walker." I announced, lowering my voice as I finished informing him of the name.

"That's right, Walker. Heard he was a cop, but, uh, I didn't know him very well."

"Yeah…" I trailed off, taking my eyes off his. It was too intimidating. There was no way I could keep going with his mysterious gaze directly on me.

"What about him?" he prompted after I went silent. His voice was full of concern…maybe even suspicion. But was it really that odd to bring up a cop who had recently been murdered? Especially one that uniforms from our shift knew? Unless of course, he was already linking it somehow with my recent outburst.

If so, he was way too smart for me. Much smarter than Bosco had ever been.

I glanced back him once more and took a deep breath, as he looked at me expectantly. We'd come to a red light, so he was now able to devote his soulful Labrador-like eyes to staring me down for an answer.

I'd explained to him how Bosco, Yokas and I were all tangled up in the disaster of Walker's murder. I have to say I'd spared him some details, though.

I looked up to me his gaze. His brown eyes were full of concern. Come to think of it, they always were. I guess the job kind of makes you look at everything with doubt and suspicion.

"They're arresting you for it?" he asked finally, making a turn. Apparently he'd inferred at least that much from the one-sided conversation he heard.

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Well, it's cool, I'm used to it."

"Yeah, but Sarge, you didn't do--"

"I said leave it, Manny!" I snapped, holding a hand up in aggravation. I watched his eyes. They didn't blink, widen… He really had become accustom to my attitude. "'Sides," I continued, lowering my voice again. "I won't be inside for long."

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

I rolled over, catching myself just as I nearly toppled over the side. I was pretty disoriented, but I quickly realized I was in bed. I pulled myself into a sitting position, passing a hand across my forehead and wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed. I wasn't sure if it was from the heat of sun that was shining through the window and casting warmth onto the bed, or if it had been a nightmare.

It didn't matter if I was asleep or awake. The visions never went away. The voices never became less loud, the blood never less red…

The alarm clock on my bedside table presented the time in its intimidating digital font. 8:19 a.m.

My cell phone lay nearby, and I picked it up. The screen displayed several missed calls; all from Lieu. I shuddered and stood up, having to steady myself as a wave of nausea settled over me. I couldn't even think about what he'd had to say; I was too busy reliving the nightmares that kept me so out-of-tune to where the ringing had never even woken me.

Why is it so fuckin' hot?

I sucked in a breath as I made my way out into the living room, but the air felt hot and still, and my throat tightened. The room was blurry at first, but it began to slowly come into focus. I saw her figure on the couch; one leg outstretched, the other curled beneath her…her arms hugging herself protectively. The previous afternoon was coming back to me. Had I really slept all day and night?

…So hot…

I struggled to take in another breath. It felt like it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. It was an eerily familiar feeling…like the one I'd experience when I bolted from that alley all the way to my apartment. I'd felt so out of breath, so hot and so disconnected from the present time. Like I was hallucinating. But despite that the temperature was so exaggeratedly hot in this state; I still shivered every now and then, in reaction to the chills running through my body.

It wasn't until I'd taken a seat next to her that I saw her eyes were red-rimmed and glazed with residue from recently-shed tears. She hardly glanced at me.

"You okay?" she asked, her gaze still affixed to the floor.

"Yeah, fine, why?" I answered quickly, assuming my appearance had made some statement or something. Although, she hadn't even looked up since I came out.

"Still hot?"

"What?" I asked, a bit confused.

"When you never got up last night, I went in to check on you and you were yelling about how hot it was. I turned the A/C down. I don't know if that helped."

I shivered again. I didn't remember her coming into my room; I certainly didn't remember seeing, hearing or talking to her.

"Yeah, it's still hot. I dunno know why I'm so hot…" Okay, so the last part was a lie. I'd just relived the entire murder.

"Maybe you have a fever?" she wondered aloud, sitting up and looking at me for the first time. I felt her place her hand on my forehead and her expression turn to concern.

"I'm fine," I mumbled, pushing her hand away. Her motherly instinct made me think of Emily and Charlie. "How are the kids?"

"What?"

"The kids. Didn't you call them last night? Or…how long did I sleep? Who's the President?"

She laughed; a mismatched expression atop her sad features.

"They're fine," she said, though her voice was filled with uncertainty. I tried to shrug it off.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking notice of a fresh tear spilling from her eye.

She looked at me, her face twisting into a questioning expression. "What's wrong?" she asked scornfully. "Boz, look around. Everything is 'wrong'. You…you can't even sleep without having nightmares…without…hallucinating. You don't think I notice, but I do. It's all over your face…the pain. And me? I'm a mess because I can't sleep…thinking…thinking…he's gonna come in here…and…he's dead, Bosco. See? Everything is wrong!"

I shook my head and stood up, pacing back and forth. "I'm not doing this, now…"

"Doing what?!" she shrieked.

I pointed a finger at her. "I am not," I started, struggling again to take in a breath. "Talking about this now. I am not."

"Right. What's new," she smiled caustically. "Why talk about it when you can pretend it isn't there? Well guess what, Bosco, it doesn't go away. You can ignore it all you want, but it still happened. I still killed Mann, you still killed Walker and Cruz still helped!"

"No…no…no!" I shook my head violently. It was now—when I needed to concentrate most, that the persistent images started up again. My head pounded. "Shut up!" I didn't realize I was still holding my cell phone until it flew from my hand because I'd gripped it so tightly. I picked it up, and, noticing the voicemails I hadn't listened to, proceeded to call, holding it up to my ear. I glanced over at Faith as the ringing began, and shot her an angry glare. She returned the look and then put her head in her hands.

I shoved my left hand into my pocket nervously, still clutching the phone in my right as Swersky's voice cut in.

"Hey Bosco, it's Lieu. I been trying to get a hold of you all night. Where the hell are you? Cruz just got—"

I hadn't finished listening to his imperatively-toned message when a loud, impatient knock fell on the front door, followed by another. I dropped my cell phone, and Lieu's words immediately grew distant as it hit the floor. The sound of the heavy cell phone colliding onto the floor serviced at the sound effect behind the image of a badly injured Walker that flashed in my head, over and over. I shook my head hard, hoping I could shake image away. It worked. Temporarily, anyway.

I made my way to the door, feeling my heart pounding ruthlessly in my chest. Every step felt like it took weeks, because I'd flash back to different times…different places…to different people.

The knocks continued, louder this time, more impatient.

"I'm coming for God's sake!" I screamed, finally landing a hand on the doorknob. I pulled it open quickly, preparing to give the bastard a piece of my mind. I was greeted by a folded piece of paper, held in an outstretched hand. The sun was beating in through the hall window, and obstructing my view. All I could make out were two dark figures, and what looked like a few more behind them. Their voices were deep and unwavering.

"Officer Boscorelli," announced the taller one. I felt like he was staring me straight in the eye, but I still couldn't see clearly. "We have a warrant to search the premises."

I thought I heard Faith say something, as she rushed up behind me, but I couldn't make out the words. All the images I'd seen had cluttered together into one giant, haunting haze that blurred my vision; and the voices and screaming had dulled into one monotonous drone that had screwed up hearing, too. I fell back against the wall as the figures intrusively passed by me, shouting out instructions on where to look and what to look for. If there was any color left in my face, I felt it drain away, just before I slid down and collapsed onto the floor.