Author's Note: This chapter came pouring out with unusual intensity.
A huge thank you to my reviewers – you inspire me.
Disclaimer: I claim nothing but the plot.
A warning for mild foul language.
Chapter 3: Unbridled
"I had the idea that the world's so full of pain, it must sometimes make a kind of singing." - Faint Music, a poem by Robert Hauss
"No one laughs at God
On the day they realize that the last sight they'll ever see,
Is a pair of hateful eyes
No one's laughing at God
When they're saying their goodbyes..."
-Regina Spektor, "Laughing With"
As a condition for getting a ride back to the station rather than straight home, Sully made Bosco hand over his service piece.
Bosco did so willingly and without argument.
"Don't forget the one in your ankle holster," Faith had added quietly, knowingly.
She chose to ignore the smoldering glare he gave her as reluctantly handed Sully his second gun.
"Bosco, you're not gonna do anything stupid, right, man?" Davis had asked worriedly.
Mouth turned down in a pronounced frown, Bosco shook his head.
"I don't plan on doing anything stupid, Davis."
It was the cold, emotionless way he said it, coupled with the abnormally dangerous look in his eyes that filled Faith with dread.
She didn't say another word as they rode through the city, she just prayed silently.
No sooner did the RMP come to a stop outside of the stationhouse, than Bosco was already out of the car and heading toward the steps.
He'd jumped out before Sully could even shift into Park.
"Bosco…Bosco, this is a bad idea!" Faith called as she ran after her partner.
He was a man on a mission, completely oblivious to her words as she chased him down, with Sully and Davis close on her heels.
"Bosco…please, just stop a minute! Look, can we just talk?"
He was just about to reach for the precinct door when she caught up with him, reaching out and gripping his arm at the elbow.
"Hey –"
She was unprepared for his reaction as he violently jerked away.
"G-d damn it, Faith! Stay out of it!" He yelled, his body quivering with rage.
She was not used to such anger being directed toward her, and it shook her deeply.
"I…I just…."
"Leave me alone! I don't want you near me right now! Just leave me the hell alone," he hissed, chest heaving, each sentence issued with vehemence usually reserved for the vilest of criminals.
She let him go and remained on the steps, fighting tears, as he stormed into the stationhouse.
Davis and Sully hung back, watching the exchange with morbid fascination mingled with shock.
"You okay?" Sully asked in a low tone.
Faith just nodded, sniffing. "I think I deserved that," she admitted quietly.
"Hey guys, we gotta go after him," Davis interjected quickly, hurrying inside the precinct.
Once inside, they could already hear angry shouts coming from the holding cells.
Lieu looked up with a startled frown as the three officers burst in the door.
"Boss, we need you," Davis called, taking off in a dead-run down the hall.
When they arrived, nothing could have prepared them what they saw, and they froze with shock.
Seconds before, Bosco had strode into the holding area, where an officer sat doing paperwork. In one lightning speed move, he reached down and unholstered the officer's gun, jerking it up and immediately pointing it toward the cells.
A shouting match ensued as prisoners swore and yelled out in protest.
"What the hell?"
"This dude's crazy!"
"Shut up! All of you shut up! Step away from the man in the brown jacket – I said step away!" Bosco screamed over their exclamations of shock and fear.
He was backed up against the wall, gaze darting frantically back and forth between the object of his wrath and the officer in front of him.
The officer had his hands out in a gesture of non-violence.
"Hey, man I don't know what's going on here, but you need to put the gun down, okay? That's my gun, man. Put it down."
Bosco just stared at him, ignoring the other officers now crowding the hallway to investigate the commotion. "Look, this doesn't involve you, Richardson. Leave."
"I can't do that, man. You know I can't do that, Bosco."
"I'm not gonna ask you again, Richardson," Bosco replied, eyes glinting dangerously.
"Get. Out."
"Officer Richardson – step outside. Let me handle this," an obviously pissed Lt. Swersky ordered, pushing through the crowd to enter the holding area.
"I want this hallway blocked off – no one else is allowed back here!" The Lieutenant yelled, as officers scrambling to obey his command.
"I'm handling this! No one else is to interfere!"
After a few more minutes, the crowd thinned considerably, and Officer Richardson quickly exited the area, leaving Bosco and Swersky standing alone.
Only Faith, Sully, Davis, and a handful of other officers remained, watching the unnerving standoff from the hallway, riveted in disbelief.
The four other prisoners in the cells had already moved away from Anthony Boscorelli to stand against the opposite wall, eyes never leaving the man with the gun.
The elder Boscorelli stood alone in the center of the cell, staring with shock and trepidation down the barrel of the pistol pointed at him by his son.
The room had fallen suddenly and uncharacteristically silent; the only sound heard being the ragged gasps emitted from the man holding the gun.
"Bosco…you shoot this man and you throw away your entire career," Swersky warned angrily, mistaking the scene for another one of the officer's infamous temper tantrums.
"I don't care…I don't care anymore," Bosco muttered anxiously through grit teeth, tightening his grip on the weapon in his hand.
His words and demeanor momentarily stunned the Lieutenant, who took a step back to really look at the man before him.
Bosco was sweating, his entire frame shaking so bad that he could barely hold steady the weapon in his hands. His chest was heaving with exertion, anxiety, and what must have been a vain attempt at self-control.
It was the eyes that struck Lieu hard, though. Bosco's eyes were impossibly wide and glazed over, and when he caught the younger man's gaze he recognized the unmistakable pain of intense sorrow reflected in their depths.
No, this was not normal – this was something horrible and gut-wrenching and very, very real.
Swersky tried again, this time pitching his tone lower, softer.
"Bosco…whatever he did, shooting him isn't going to help."
"I don't want to shoot him," Bosco corrected, sounding distant. "I want to kill him."
Chills ran down Swersky's spine at the admission, but he quickly composed himself.
"Why? What did he do?"
The younger man shook his head slowly. "He killed her."
"Killed who?"
"My mother," Bosco replied, voice cracking on the word.
Swersky's eyes widened. He'd met the woman a couple of times.
"Rose was murdered?"
"She…she died?" The senior Boscorelli suddenly asked, horrified. "Oh my god…oh my god…what have I done?"
"Don't you dare…don't you dare! You haven't felt sorry once in twenty years, you're not gonna start now that she's dead!"
"I…I didn't mean to…Maurice. I have a problem…I didn't mean to…." The older man was sobbing now. "I-I was drunk…I didn't mean to….."
"You son of a bitch," Bosco whispered through clenched teeth, shaking his head and pulling back the hammer of the gun.
"Boscorelli…." Lieu barked, holding out a hand as if to stop the younger man.
"No more excuses…no more damn excuses!" Bosco choked out, baring his teeth.
"P-please…Maurice. I'm sorry…I really am," Anthony Boscorelli was begging now, pleading.
"Sorry, sorry…you're always sorry…but you never stopped," Bosco spat hoarsely, lip curling in a disgusted snarl.
"Never stopped what, Bosco?" Swersky asked urgently, trying to shift the man's focus and gain control of a rapidly deteriorating situation.
Bosco glanced at him briefly. With a grimacing smile, he bobbed his head marginally at the man standing behind the bars.
"Go 'head, dad…go 'head and tell him what you did…what you do."
Swersky suddenly sucked in a breath, his brain wracking to put together the pieces of a tragic puzzle. His chest clenched briefly in empathy for the young man before him, as the truth dawned on him with sickening clarity.
"This man is your father?"
Bosco shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of emotion.
"No…'cause a father doesn't beat to death the mother of his kids."
He swallowed convulsively, then blinked, steadying his aim once more.
"I have to do this, Boss," he insisted, and his voice took on a warning tone.
"Why?" Lieu demanded. "What good will it bring?"
"He doesn't deserve to live," Bosco responded, deliberately dodging the question.
"If you kill him, he'll get away with it. He'll never be held accountable for his actions."
At this, the younger man let out a frustrated sob, blinking back tears as he anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"I couldn't protect her…but I can do this…should've done this a long time ago…."
Swersky could tell the normally tough-as-nails cop was breaking, was already broken, and it was suddenly hard to watch.
His heart lodged in his throat, the Lieutenant made his final appeal.
"Bosco…your mother wouldn't want you to throw away your life for this," he said, watching as the younger man closed his eyes in grief.
"His life is over," he continued, pointing at the man in the cell. "He's gonna spend the rest of his life behind bars, paying for what he did. It's what Rose would want."
Bosco exhaled loudly, reaching his free hand up to cover his eyes, tears now flowing freely down quivering cheeks.
"Hand me the gun, son," Swersky instructed gently, stepping closer to the trembling man.
"It's what she would want," he added, waiting patiently as Bosco used his thumb to disengage the hammer on the weapon, slowly lowering his arm to his side.
"God I'm sorry, Lieu," he whispered, voice barely audible now, hand still covering his eyes.
"It's okay," Swersky replied, placing a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder while simultaneously taking the gun out of his limp grasp.
"It's going to be okay."
Wordlessly, he handed the gun behind his back to Sully, who then turned it over to Richardson.
"I don't care what strings you have to pull – get them out of here and down to central booking immediately," he added quietly, inclining his head toward the cells.
Swiftly Davis, Sully, and other officers moved forward to escort Anthony Boscorelli and the four other prisoners out of the holding area.
Still, no one said a word, the room silent save for the clicking and clanging of metal chains, and the rustling of cloth against cloth.
Minutes later, the only people still standing in the area were Bosco, the Lieutenant, and Faith.
Swersky's hand had never left Bosco's shoulder, and the younger officer had yet to look up or remove the hand covering his face.
"Bosco? It's over."
Finally, the hand lowered, and tear filled eyes glanced up to meet his superior's.
"I'm - I'm sorry…Boss, I don't know what got into me, I…."
"It's okay," the older man insisted. No judgments. No reservations. Just understanding.
"I'm sso…I'm sso…." Bosco gasped, unable to get the words out as his face crumpled and he dissolved into tears.
Swersky had to bite his lip to keep his own emotions in check as he pulled the distraught man to his chest.
Glancing over at Faith, he could barely decipher her silently mouthed "thank you" through the tears of relief that streamed down her face.
For now, a crisis had been averted.
But Faith knew it was far from being over.
TBC...