I rested my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes with my fingers. I was tapping the floor with my feet and rapping my knuckles on the table nervously, awaiting their return. If they'd hit a dead end, I was screwed. If they hadn't found—Stop it. Stop.

I took a deep breath, trying to remain a bit more positive. I wasn't sure what aspect of situation was tearing me apart more – knowing my information may not have dished out, or knowing that if it had, I was sending Bosco away forever. And I was breaking up a bond that I'd originally tried to salvage. But it was better him than me, right?

Shivering for a second time, I adjusted my weight in the chair. It was a foreign position for me – being on the opposite side of an interrogation. All the tables were turned. Everything was against me. All the bullshit I'd fed my suspects had been given to me line-by-line. I'd held off on a PBA, thinking after ten years I knew the law well enough to wheedle my way out of things. Crossing my fingers, though, I realized what a mistake that might have been if Lane had turned up nothing at Bosco's place – if Bosco had crafted some fraudulent alibi with all of his uniform buddies and had ditched the murder weapon off the Brooklyn Bridge.

The door swung open.

Lane looked at me, grinning sarcastically as usual and clutching a file folder. Lot of memories came back with that sardonic smile. I shook it off. I wasn't here to deal with the past. Come the end of the week, I'll be back in Anti-Crime with Manny and I won't give a shit where Bosco is.

I waited for him to speak. He didn't. He just kept that foul smirk on his face until I could help but throw in a remark. "Took long enough."

"Yeah," he said finally, hunching over the table. His sidekick stood close to the door, watching intently. "Seems him and that…partner of his you shot last year make a good pair. Bastards hid it pretty good."

"But you found it?"

"Hmm. Blood and all." Lane nodded.

"That's…uh…good." I told him, mirroring his nod.

"Gotta wait for DNA, though. If alls a match, Boscorelli'll be in custody within thirty-six hours."

I pursed my lips together tightly, nodding again. Was I supposed to jump up and down? Thank him for sparing me time as an accomplice? I was helping put away a good cop. One of the best I knew. Was I supposed to feel good about it?

"It'll match."

"Will it, Maritza?" he whispered, leaning closer. I looked up at him.

"Yeah, yeah it will," I declared matter-of-factly. This bastard still think I'm working for him? What is this?

"Yeah, see," he began snidely. "What I'm wondering is what we're gonna do when forensics pulls two sets of prints…"

"You're gonna….take the one you need and toss mine out. That was the deal, Lane."

He nodded insincerely.

"That was the deal!"

"Yeah, yeah," he agreed. "No problem."

"Look," I said softly, calculating my words. "If you're gonna be a lying bastard and come after me because just nailing one cop isn't good enough, then be prepared to kick Bosco loose."

"Bosco, huh?"

"That's what I said," I confirmed, sneering. "If I'm goin', there's no reason to put him inside, too."

"Sounds like you two are tight."

"Were."

"Before you paralyzed Yokas?"

"Precisely," I glanced up at his partner, who had hardly moved since the two stepped in. "Wow. Lane here's pretty good at piecin' together the puzzle, huh?" I put on my best smile.

Lane scoffed. "Alright, Maritza. One more thing?"

"Shoot."

"Why'd you help him?"

"Help him?"

"Don't play stupid, Cruz!" he snarled, slamming his fist on the table. "Why did you help Officer Boscorelli murder Officer Walker?"

"Because Matthew Walker was scum!" I screamed, standing up as my temper flared.

"Is that so? Because it seems he was different person to the majority," he flipped open the file he'd been holding and slapped it down in front of me. I caught a glimpse of Walker's picture, stapled to the documents. You could only see him from the neck up, but he appeared to be wearing his blues. His dark hair was combed neatly, and he was smiling. I shivered when I recalled how different he'd looked the last time I'd seen him, and how the ME had to go by DNA to identify him, because Bosco had left him so unrecognizable.

"Let's see…" Lane continued. "'A devout member of the NYPD for over twelve years. Faithful husband, devoted father… Awarded Medal for Valor in 1999 for disarming a gunman who had opened fire on fifteen fellow officers during a gun battle at the'---"

"That's enough, Lane," I interrupted, tossing my hands up. "He got a divorce three years ago; his wife got custody of their son because he was an alcoholic. They don't even live in New York. How's that for devoted? All that is crap and you know it. Even the Medal for Valor part."

"With only six years on the force back then, I'd say otherwise, wouldn't you?"

"No. " I finally answered.

"See, I think the majority would disa—"

"Screw the majority!" I shouted, shaking my head and nearly spitting as I raised my voice. "He didn't rape the majority. Matthew Walker was nothing but a corrupt excuse for a cop and a rapist and you know it."

"Are you justifying what Officer Boscorelli did?" his partner spoke up, stepping forward the first time.

I glared at him. "Go to hell."

"I'll take that as a yes, then," Lane decided, waiting for me to shift my attention back to him. The air was laden with tension and anger. I clenched my fists.

"I thought we had a deal, Lane. Why are you doing this?"

"You seem to know a lot about Walker."

I shrugged. "Ran into him a few times. People talked."

"He's been on the job longer than you, Ritza."

"Doesn't make what he did okay."

"Look, I just want you to know what you're risking," he said calmly. "I can't protect you from everything. It was your idea to come clean. I'll do my part; whatever happens after that is not my problem."

"That's all I'm asking," I told him, lowering my voice as well.

"Great," he said, taking a deep breath. He grinned again and outstretched his hand. Bastard. I shook it reluctantly and then headed to the door.

"It was good to do business with you again, Sergeant Cruz," he called out.

I stopped between the doorjamb, smiling bitterly and realizing it would have been possible to swim in the amount of sarcasm that saturated his words. I shot him one last look before I walked out. "Screw you, Roy."

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

I'm not exactly sure how long I'd sat there, my back plastered against the wall just inside my doorway. It felt like time kind of stopped; things sort of froze. I can't really think of another way to explain it. I guess I haven't had much practice explaining the feeling you get when you watch your own searching your home for a murder weapon…trying to pin you for a crime.

So, I never looked at my watch, or at a clock or anything. I never asked Faith what time it was either. I guess I didn't really want to know. I didn't want to believe that time was even passing. Because that meant they were processing everything; all the evidence I'd failed to hide or destroy. Because I'd been so arrogant as to think I'd gotten away with it. Why? Because I'd briefly scanned the neighborhood and didn't see anyone peering through their blinds? I'd left the murder weapon at the scene, knowing my adversary was going to pick it up, keep it for awhile and then give it back just before she turned me in.

Why I'd asked her for help to begin with, I have no idea. I think what I needed that night was a driver; I had been in no shape to operate anything but a weapon. Anyway, I didn't need Cruz to help me. Hell, I took care of Walker by myself. So what if she'd gotten him out of his apartment. I wasn't trying to spare the carpet, or anything. And it was her that someone had seen fleeing the scene, not me. It was her fucking portrait plastered on the local news, not mine. I wouldn't have sat in my apartment for hours watching crime scene techs analyze every corner and crevice if I just hadn't asked Cruz for help.

It never fully occurred to me that I simply could have held off on killing him altogether. That just didn't seem like it'd been option. The only thing that kept replaying over and over in my head was how everything would've gone smoothly if I'd just left Cruz out of it. If I just hadn't trusted her.

"You ready?" I heard Faith ask, interrupting my thoughts. My resentful, malicious thoughts about how Cruz hadn't kept her word. But she'd never really given me her word. In fact, I'd told her if anyone were to find out, it was all on me. And it was now, it really all was. I was willing to take the blame; I expected to. I'd counted the cost before I did it, albeit I may have been in a not-so-stable state of mind. But I'd gone over things before. How I'd always be willing to sacrifice for Faith; to go to jail if it meant bringing her justice. I knew the system; Walker would never have gone to prison. Defense would hardly have had to lift a finger before he'd be a free man, so I had to play the prosecution's role. And I knew what would happen. It just never really occurred to me that I had all that much to lose. After never having a father, losing Mikey, being shot…I guess I forgot about Ma, Faith and my job. I didn't want to lose them, to only see them through plexiglas on their infrequently-allowed visits to Attica, Rikers…wherever the hell they planned on sending me. I didn't want to leave my job behind, or the two people that made up the only family I had left. I didn't want to. But I would. If it meant they were safe.

"Boz? Earth to Bosco?" Her voice cut in again, sharper this time, causing me to look up in a panic. She was tugging on my shirt. Guess I'd gotten lost again, thinking. I did too much of that in past the day and half – that's how long it was since they turned my place upside down for any clues to tie me to Walker's murder. God. If they'd told me they planned on trashing the place this much, I'd of fucking confessed.

"Huh? What?" I shook my head, hoping to shake away any confusion along with it.

"You ready?" she asked, jingling keys around in her hand. "We're going to the House, remember? You lost it for a second…"

"Oh, right," I followed her to the door.

"You okay?" she shot me a typical look of concern.

I grinned bitterly. "Fucking fantastic. Can we go now?"

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

I have no idea how I convinced Bosco to go to the House with me, considering he'd refused to leave for a day and a half following the search. Lieu had called non-stop, but Bosco refused to speak to him, leaving me to take that part. Lieu explained that FBI had pulled Cruz out the very night she'd had the argument with Bosco, and that as far as he knew she hadn't copped to anything that would get her in trouble. The only thing that was suspicious to me was how IAB hadn't burrowed their way into this disaster and fashioned their own little nest. It made me think about Cruz's connections to the FBI, specifically the two that tried to question me after I'd been shot, halted beforehand, though, by Fred.

So while Lieu and I tried to piece together what Cruz had done exactly, Bosco said nothing, did nothing. Just stared ahead as if he was there only physically, but as if he was gone. His eyes had been soulless, emotionless, and completely staid.

I saw the same nothingness in his eyes as we prepared to leave for the House. I couldn't help but ask if he was okay, though I knew he had no reason to be.

"Fucking fantastic," he replied bitterly. "Can we go now?"

"Yeah, we can go," I said, hurrying out the door. He followed close behind.

"You know," he added, as we walked down the stairs. "Not much use goin' to the House, but I guess I should at least say goodbye, huh?"

His words stung me; they stung deep. They made me feel guilty that I'd ever been a victim. I know that wasn't his intention; he was just freaking out. I'd freaked out when I thought my attempts for immunity would fall through the cracks. The true brunt of what I'd done had really hit me then. I couldn't imagine the weight that was coming down on his shoulders – he had no chance for immunity of any sort. Captain Finney was dead, and nobody wanted Cruz anymore. They wanted him. They wanted someone the family could blame and therefore achieve a false sense of justice; they wanted a scapegoat to bring down for Walker's murder. Ironically, they'd found the right one.

And the press would really love that he was cop, himself, too.

I sighed as we got to the bottom of steps and made our way to the car. I really thought I'd gotten into some deep shit when I shot Donald Mann. I'd never expected to slither my way out of that, and it had been a close call. So I wasn't sure what hope I was supposed to be holding out for any of us, when my partner had bludgeoned another cop to death, his accomplice had turned him in to the FBI, and I was a co-conspirating with my own boss to figure out why.

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

"There you are, Bosco," I heard Lieu call as Faith and I stepped in. He immediately rounded the front desk and beckoned me into a nearby office. Blindly, I followed him. Faith stayed outside, but I don't doubt she was listening to every word.

"Where the hell have you been, Bosco?" he whispered harshly. "You don't take my calls? You refuse to talk to me? I was trying to warn you, Bosco. Give you the heads up. I don't even know what I'm doing. I shouldn't know this!"

"No, boss, you shouldn't."

I watched him grit his teeth in frustration. "You are making this really hard for me to help you, Bosco."

"You can't help me now, Lieu," I raised my hand and my voice. "They found everything. The blood, my baton. And…and you know Cruz cracked. She wouldn't go back to prison for a day for a million."

"That's because she wouldn't come out alive with the amount of people she's put away."

I shrugged, watching Swerksy as he paced around in a circle, running a hand over his head. Stress, worry, fatigue…it plagued his face and expression. "God, Bosco… You need to get yourself a PBA and you need to try----"

"What the hell is a PBA gonna do for me now, Lieu?! What?!"

He didn't answer, and I abruptly headed to the door, turning only to give him a solemn look and a lame apology. "I'm sorry, Lieu."

With that, I headed out of the office, ignoring Faith's questions about what he'd said, and aimed for the locker room. I found Ty and Sully at their lockers, proceeding to put on their uniforms, and I waited until Finney and a few other officers cleared out and headed for roll call before I started to talk. I could feel Faith behind me though, and I turned to face her.

"I'll just be a second," I said softly, watching her features fall.

"What…there some other secret? Come on, Boz, I've heard it all."

"Faith…please." She appeared hurt, but she shrugged and left. Satisfied, I turned back to Sully and Davis, who were watching expectantly. Sully was the first to speak.

"You don't look so good, Bosco," he remarked, looking me up and down. Probably noting the same clothes I'd been in for three days, my pale, drawn face or my eyes that had mysteriously changed color overnight. I don't know. Is bloodshot a color?

"Yeah, well," I hesitated. "What can I say."

They both nodded in understanding.

"I'm not gettin' out of this, guys," I began, my voice quivering. "So I just---."

"Bosco," Ty cut in. "There's gonna be something we can do, if you just--."

"No," I interrupted. "Ty, please. There isn't. Not like that."

He looked at me sadly.

"But," I continued. "I wanted to ask you two a favor."

"Anything," Sully agreed promptly. "Anything."

I nodded gratefully. "I want you to…I want…I want you to watch out for them. Please. For me? Watch after them?" I felt a lump forming in my throat; that telltale ache in the back of your mouth when you're struggling not to cry. I swallowed hard.

"Just make sure they're not always alone, you know? Don't let her forget you're here. She'll say she doesn't need anyone to talk to because she tries to be strong, but it's just a front, she really needs somebody…after what happened." I glanced up as they nodded supportively, and I tried my best to battle the tears, though my attempts didn't hold up. "And Ma…she just, needs someone, you know? Cause she doesn't have Mikey any more and she's always---."

"Okay. Bosco?" Sully interceded, stepping forward and placing his hand on my shoulder. I felt obligated to look up at him, pretending my eyes weren't glazed with overdue tears. "It's okay."

I nodded again, and turned to the door. "Thanks…then…that's all. Thank-you," I stuttered.

I hadn't quite reached for the door when Ty's voice broke in, causing me to turn around. "There's gotta be something else we can do, too?"

"You can testify," I suggested, pushing my way out of the locker room without waiting for a response. Both rushed out after me though, determined not to let me leave on such a hopeless note.

Not surprisingly, a gleaming gold badge greeted us not too many feet away. Sully stopped in his tracks, Davis not far behind him. I spotted Faith next to them; apparently her idea of leaving the locker room was to stand right next to the door.

"Roy Lane," Sully observed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh," Lane announced, faux delight coating his tone. "Sullivan. You remember me."

"Who could forget a son of a bitch like you?"

"Well, fear not, Sullivan. Case doesn't concern you. It concerns Boscorelli, here." He turned his smirk to me, and I was happy to repay him with one of my own. I watched him look over his shoulder at an unfamiliar uniform. "Tanner," he ordered. "Cuff Boscorelli and confiscate his weapon, please." The young officer nodded and did as he was told. I hardly flinched as he took my off-duty gun, and proceeded to tighten handcuffs around my wrist. I didn't speak. I just glared at Lane, occasionally shifting my gaze to Faith who was becoming increasingly unstable on her feet, and to Sully, Ty and many others that had taken notice of the scene and were staring, mouths agape.

Jelly, for instance, had stopped on his journey upstairs, did a double take and was now staring stupidly at the cup of coffee he'd just dropped. Cruz was lingering not far down the hall, timidly peaking around the corner. I tried to set her on fire with my eyes; will her to like, spontaneously combust or something, but I didn't succeed.

I felt like stone standing there; my feet felt as if they'd accumulated a dozen times their weight. I couldn't move, I could hardly breathe. I just observed. I felt as if I were watching the scene unfold from another angle, and I could see myself close my eyes as I heard the voice…

"Officer Boscorelli," Lane announced; a sly grin on his face. He took my arm roughly, but I wrenched away from it. "You're under arrest for the murder of Officer Matthew Walker."

A whimper caught my attention, and I turned to see Faith collapsing, only to be caught mid-way by Sully who was whispering something in an effort to be supportive. I couldn't hear him well though, his words sounded slurred to me as I watched; they seemed in slow motion. The ensuing rights that Lane read off to me sounded just as distant and incoherent.

I took my first steps away from the locker room door, feeling unsteady on my own feet. My legs were heavy, so heavy, and they seemed to shake under my weight. The exit felt like a long way off with how difficult walking had suddenly become. I could feel eyes on me still as I very slowly began to go forward, and I turned around, Ty's eyes glued to mine in an instant. I could see Sully's figure to the left of him, struggling to keep Faith from completely crumbling onto the floor. Her sobs were desperate and clear. I didn't understand why I'd managed to nearly drown out all the voices…but hers.

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

I could see him watching her, tears filling his eyes. It didn't look like he was trying to hold them in any longer; they were pooling under his eyes and overflowing in streams. His expression when he looked at her made me cringe. It was so desperate, so remorseful. And I just stood there, next to Sully, my arms at my side in defeat. Just stood there, because there was nothing that I could do.

When he finally broke his gaze from her and his eyes landed on mine, I could feel my own burning. I didn't want him to look at me. Not when I couldn't help him; not when I had nothing to say to him to make the situation any better.

I was grateful when he spoke, thinking perhaps if someone broke this tense stare with something other than crying and screaming, I might be able to hold off on my own tears.

His voice crackled and he sounded years over his age.

"Tell Ma I said sorry."

That's all he said to me, then he turned on an uncoordinated foot and started to walk in the opposite direction. He didn't wait long enough to see me nod in silent promise. I thought I was watching him walk away from the 55th for the last time. I didn't think we'd ever see him again; at least not in some place other than behind bars. And I was sure we'd never again see him strolling in for a shift.

So it might be my general optimism that sparked the smallest flame of hope inside, though, when I watched him snarl at the officer accompanying him and Lane outside.

"Get your hands off me, Jagoff!"

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

Her crying died down to a low whimper several minutes after Bosco walked away. Still, though, she kept her tear-streaked face burrowing against my shoulder, mumbling something about how it was her fault. I could feel her tears seeping through my shirt, reminding me that she'd been crying out of guilt. Not that it was true, but that's what she thought. She thought she was responsible.

I looked up at Ty who had been watching the door wistfully ever since it swung closed a dozen yards up ahead. He finally turned his head so he could face me. If it were at all possible, his features seemed to fall even more when he saw us.

"Can…they do that, Sul?" he asked finally. "I mean…can they…"

"Think so, Ty," I nodded solemnly. I couldn't think of anything else to say. I was still taking everything in; still trying to piece together the parts of the situation that I never knew, and still didn't know.

Faith finally pulled her head back from where it was resting on my shoulder. Her face was glistening from the presence of tears, and red from where they'd burned her skin as they constantly fell.

"This isn't your fault, Faith," Ty offered. "Sully's right. It's not your fault."

She laughed bitterly, a disturbing jump between emotions. "It is, though," she started. She brought herself to her feet, though unsteady, and focused her attention on me. "Remember when you brought me home? From the hospital?"

I nodded. Maybe I was going to get another piece of the jigsaw.

"He told me he was going to do something, Sully. He told me, and I didn't stop him."

Ty furrowed a brow. "You didn't know he--."

Between more tears, she continued. "But I could've guessed. I could've done something, but I didn't! I didn't care what he did. Because I was afraid."

Her voice was strained. "Faith---." I put a hand on her shoulder supportively, but she backed away.

"No. This was my fault…"

"What was whose fault?"

We looked up at Swersky who was standing behind us. He didn't question why we hadn't been a roll call. His face looked tense and fraught with anxiety. We didn't elaborate.

"Where's Bosco?" he inquired, his voice far from his usual tone of good-natured authority. It was fragile and defeated. I watched him follow all of our eyes as we gazed past him toward the door. The hall had about cleared, save for us, and everyone, including Cruz, had gone back to whatever they were doing. Or at least were trying to, anyway.

Lieu watched in the opposite direction. I couldn't see his expression, but I could predict it. I was probably mimicking it. Part of me wanted to walk over to him, but I remained in place in case Faith lost her balance again; deluged by an overwhelming episode of stress, guilt and desperation. So I just stood, prepared to offer my shoulder again should it be needed. Her, Ty and me were peering at the door just as Lieu was doing, as if we thought that maybe if we stared at it long enough, hard enough, maybe he'd burst back inside and make some wise remark as to why were all standing around gawking at him, and not in uniform, prepared to hit the streets. We watched as we thought by some miracle, we'd all just lived a terrifying nightmare, and were on the verge of waking up.

I'm guessing each of us had watched someone different walk away. I don't know what Lieu was thinking; and I'm normally good at reading Ty, but it would be beyond my expertise to describe who he watched walk away with silver lacing his wrists. I might guess that Faith saw someone different from all of us leaving; her partner, her best friend, someone she'd killed for and, in return, had done the same for her. But the person I saw walk away, wasn't the same to anyone else. I saw a pain in the ass. He'd blatantly ignored my orders, mocked my advice... ridiculed the way I'd trained Ty. He'd been rude and obnoxious; he'd been insulting. But I also saw a confidant, because next to few other people, he'd been one of the best friends I had. We'd gotten along better as time went on, but we never coincided very well. Still, we shared some understanding that we'd have each others backs; some unspoken brand of brotherhood. I can't explain it much better than that.

That's who I saw walk away.

Crap.

\\