Author's Note: Had to get this out. This is officially IT until the New Year. The muse has been sucking up way too much of my time and energy.
A simple albeit fluffy Christmas chapter, set in their second year of B/F's partnership, thus pre-TW.
Bit o' Research: According to the NYPD website, 10-13 is code for "Officer in Danger" and 10-84 is code for "Arrived on Scene" – also, I am not a doctor, but I did look up some stuff for this chapter. If it's wrong, I apologize.
Disclaimer: I do not own the song, nor any characters from Third Watch.
Chapter 2: Two Miracles
"So call on your angels, you're beaten and broken,
It's time that we mended, so they don't fade with the Season
Let our mercy be the gifts we lay, from Brooklyn and to Broadway,
Celebrate each and every day, of this New York City Christmas
Yeah, I'm sending you a Merry New York Christmas,
And a prayer for peace on earth within our time
Hear the sidewalk angels echo hallelujah,
We understand them, now more than ever
Merry New York Christmas…"
-Rob Thomas
"What is this guy's problem?" Bosco grumbles indignantly from behind the wheel of the RMP, eyes fixed on the dark-clad figure sitting in the driver's seat of the dark colored sedan parked in the middle of the street.
"The car's running. Maybe he's waiting for someone in that apartment," Faith suggests, rolling her eyes as her impatient partner slams his palm against the horn.
"Yeah, well I ain't sitting here waiting for this jagoff."
Bosco reaches down to flash the lights and sirens, then pulls the mic to his mouth to yell into the speakerphone. His voice echoes in the deserted street.
"Sir, you need to move your vehicle."
Yet the car remains in front of them, and Bosco's head falls back against the seat, an annoyed sigh escaping his lips.
"I can't believe this."
"Bos, take it easy. He's probably just waiting for someone," Faith repeats.
"Well he can't just park in the middle of the damn road!" he retorts irritably.
He's been on edge all day, but she can't figure out why.
"You'd think at least one day out of the whole year you could try and be decent!" She'd yelled at him earlier in the day, hoping to get a rise out of him so that he would finally tell her whatever it was that was making him so bitchy.
He'd just sighed and ignored her.
"It's Christmas Eve, Bos. Give the guy a break," Faith admonishes him, shaking her head at his scowl.
He won't respond, just grits his teeth in anger as he flashes the lights and sirens again.
Faith sighs and glances out the passenger window at the blizzard-like conditions.
The snow has been accumulating since the early morning, giving them a mercifully slow shift. Bad weather seemed to keep even the brashest of criminals indoors.
Rapid snowfall continued throughout their shift, accompanied by bitingly cold wind gusts as the sun went down. Needless to say, neither officer is too keen on having to get out of the RMP in these conditions. They've been ducking minor calls for at least an hour, driving slowly around their sector to try and keep their car from getting stuck in the snow and slush.
"Look, if we sit here too long with the snow falling like this, we're gonna get stuck. And when that happens, I'm gonna make you dig us out!" Bosco tells her snidely.
"Well, what do you wanna do Bos, arrest him on Christmas Eve? God – just give him a few minutes!"
Frustrated, Bosco gets back on the speakerphone. "Move the damn car! I'm not gonna say it again!"
When the car still does not move, Bosco shakes his head.
"Does he not hear me?" he mutters incredulously, growing more angry by the second.
He presses the button on his door to roll down the window, undeterred by the sharp gust of cold air and snow that hits his face as he sticks his head outside.
"Hey! Move your ass!" He shouts, honking the horn again.
"Bosco! Will you shut the damn window? It's freezing!"
"If he doesn't move, we're gonna have to get out, anyway!" he shoots back.
Faith bites her lower lip, leaning forward in her seat to squint more closely at the vehicle. The driver has made no attempt to comply with their requests.
"Maybe he's sick or hurt or something," she mutters, looking back at her partner with a face full of concern. "You think?"
"Yeah, or maybe he's just being an ass," Bosco replies, rolling his eyes.
"Who would be an ass on Christmas Eve?" Faith asks, giving him a disdainful look.
"Please! If anything people are worse this time of year," Bosco informs her, his face contorted into a scowl.
She nods, her next words pointed and dripping with sarcasm. "Well, I guess you'd know all about being an ass during the holidays."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" He demands, opening his door to step out.
She doesn't answer as she opens her own door and shivers in the bone-chilling night air.
Suddenly, the loud crack of a gunshot reverberates off the surrounding buildings, and both officers duck instinctively and reach for their guns. They look up just in time to see a man in a ski mask and brown jacket run down the steps of the apartment building, throw himself across the hood of the car, and slide into the passenger seat.
The dark colored sedan is in motion, tires squealing, before either officer slams the doors to the RMP.
"55-David to Central, we have shots fired in an apartment building at 112 North Chester. Suspect has fled the scene in a dark 4-door sedan. License plate number, charlie-victor-victor-4197. We are in pursuit heading east," Faith yells into the radio as they chase the car down dimly lit streets.
"I knew something was up," Bosco says through grit teeth. "This bastard's got nowhere to go now."
"How fast is he going?" Faith asks worried, one hand braced against the dashboard.
"It's gotta be at least 60," he answers, tires squealing as he makes a sharp turn and the RMP fishtails.
"Careful, Bos – there's ice!" she shouts, feeling the tires of the RMP shimmy underneath them in the snow and slush.
"He's not getting away from me, Faith," Bosco responds, his jaw set.
"Yeah, well I'd like to get home to my kids tonight!"
He glances at her for a second before nodding slightly, easing up on the gas.
"He's gonna lose it!" Bosco yells out seconds later as the sedan hits a patch of ice and begins swerving dangerously.
He fights to bring the RMP to halt as its own tires slip on the same ice patch, quickly bringing the careening vehicle to a full stop without hitting anything.
The driver of the sedan is not so lucky.
It slides sideways toward the guardrail, its momentum causing the car to flip over the embankment straight down into the Hudson River.
"Oh my god!" Bosco utters harshly, and is out of the RMP and running like hell for the water in seconds.
"Bosco, wait!" Faith screams, following, but unsure of what has him so riled. "We need to wait for EMS and Rescue!"
He ignores her frantic calls, stripping off his jacket and gun belt and tossing them into the snow as he runs.
She hadn't seen what he had seen.
For just before the car flipped over the guardrail, bathed in the headlights of the RMP, he saw a flash of pink cloth and long blonde hair through the back window of the sedan.
There is a little girl in the back seat of the car. And the car is quickly sinking into the icy waters of the Hudson River.
"Bosco! You can't go in there! It's freezing!" Faith yells, watching in horror as her partner dives off of the embankment into the murky water. Faintly, she hears sirens in the distance.
"55-David to Central, we have a car over the embankment in the Hudson River, with a victim still entrapped. My partner is attempting to extricate. We need backup, FDNY, and EMS to respond to this location forthwith!"
"55-Charlie is 10-84."
She slips slightly in the snow as she makes her way down the embankment, shining her flashlight on the spot where her partner's head just dipped below the surface, the same spot where the car had sunk moments before. Absently she wonders how cold the water is, as the snow continues to fall and what little daylight they'd had continues to fade.
"Bosco!" She screams again, edging closer to the water as she sees his head break the surface once more, only to go under again.
"Yokas!" She turns at the sound of her name and sees Sully, who'd been riding solo today, making his way down to them, his flashlight beam dancing across the snow.
"Bosco went after the car!" She yells back, unable to hide the high-pitched panic in her voice.
"He's in the water?" Sully asks incredulously, shining his flashlight out across the River. "It's freezing, what the hell is he thinking?"
"I don't know…I don't know…" Faith yanks at the radio clipped to her shoulder. "Central, where the hell is FDNY and EMS? We have a 10-13 at this location!"
"55-David, FDNY and EMS have already been dispatched," the woman's monotone voice responds. Faith wants to reach through the radio and strangle her for her calmness.
"I see him!" Sully exclaims suddenly, pointing out at the water.
Bosco is slowly swimming back to shore, and Faith's heart nearly stops when she sees the limp bundle in his arms. She now knows why Bosco jumped into the freezing water.
"Oh my god…it's a little girl…there was a little girl in that car!"
"I'll get the blankets out of the trunk of the RMP," Sully says, pushing his way back up the embankment.
Faith runs down closer to the water's edge, where Bosco is now struggling to climb onto the embankment with the girl.
"Help me!" He shouts hoarsely, his limbs no longer working properly.
Faith reaches down and drags the girl onto the snow-covered ground before turning to grab Bosco's arm and pull him out of the frigid waters.
He takes no more than a few steps before he collapses, his frozen legs no longer able to carry his weight.
"Sully! Get those blankets down here, now!" Faith screams, hands latched tightly onto her partner's quivering arms.
Weakly, he pushes Faith away from him. "The g-girl…h-help her…."
Reluctantly she releases him and kneels next to the limp child in the snow, leaning down to check if she's breathing.
She starts CPR just as Sully falls on his knees in the snow next to her shaking partner.
Bosco sits hunched on his knees in the snow, arms wrapped tightly around his torso, shivering badly. He's exhausted, and his upper body sways with fatigue, as if he will fall over any second.
"Damn you're cold. What were you thinking, going out there?" Sully chides, wrapping Bosco's formerly discarded coat around his shoulders before packing one of the blankets tightly around his smaller frame.
He turns to toss the second one to Faith.
"Sh-sh-sh-she…okay?" Bosco asks dazedly, barely able to get the words past numb and trembling lips.
"Just worry about yourself right now," Sully huffs, vigorously rubbing the younger man's upper arms. "Jesus, you're turning blue."
But Bosco doesn't seem to be listening, and he suddenly tips forward into Sully's arms.
"Bosco? Bosco! Stay with me okay? We've got EMS coming," Sully tells him, shaking his shoulders.
"C-c-cold…." Bosco whispers, then grimaces and weakly tries to push Sully away.
"Of course you're cold. Crazy son of a bitch. Now, don't fight me; we have to get you warmed up."
"Sully! I need some help here!" Faith calls desperately from where she is kneeling over the girl's limp body. She can't be more than eleven or twelve, with long curly blonde hair and almost translucent skin.
As soon as the older officer steps away to assist her, Bosco feels his mind drift, his body again tilting to the side.
Within seconds he is huddled in a ball on his side in the snow. He closes his eyes as his body is wracked with violent shakes.
"Damn it, Bosco!" Sully shouts, standing once more. He grabs the clipped on radio and yells into it, clearly panicked. "Central, where the hell is EMS? We have an officer down!"
Not waiting for an answer, he drops again to Bosco's side.
"Bosco! Bosco, wake up!" He roughly shakes the officer's shoulder until his eyes flutter open, snowflakes freezing to wet eyelashes.
"Sul?" Unfocused blue eyes stare up at the older man, exhaustion evident in their depths.
"Yeah, it's me. Just hang in there, alright? Keep your eyes open."
"S'cold. S' a w-window open?" He whispers uncertainly; Sully barely able to discern the slurred words.
"It's December," Sully replies, ignoring the question as he hastily re-secures the blanket around Bosco's shivering form. "You jumped in the Hudson River in the middle of December. Your stupidity has reached a whole new level."
It's the fear talking. Bosco's disorientation scares Sully more than he'd ever admit.
"What the hell is taking so long, Central?" he snaps into the radio again.
"5-Charlie be advised: FDNY is assisting a hotel fire on 108th, and Boy-55-3 is stuck in a snowbank." The dispatcher's words are not encouraging, and Sully shuts his eyes in irritation.
"Sully, how is he?" Faith calls frantically from where she is still performing CPR on the little girl.
"Not good," he replies honestly, staring worriedly at Bosco's hunched form.
Bosco slumps again toward the ground, and actually whimpers this time when Sully pulls him into a sitting position. It is a sound so uncharacteristic to Bosco, that it completely unnerves the older man.
He mumbles something then, barely coherent, and suddenly Sully knows they can't wait anymore.
"Come on, they can't wait for the bus – we'll take 'em ourselves," he tells Faith finally. "Can you carry her to your RMP?"
"I don't think she's breathing," Faith answers breathlessly. "Should we move her?"
"I don't think we have a choice. They can't stay out here any longer," Sully answers grimly, then bends down to manhandle Bosco to his feet, stooping to slip one of his arms around his neck.
Faith quickly scoops the little girl into her arms, then starts making her way up the embankment.
"Bosco? Bosco, talk to me," Sully demands as he half-drags the smaller man through the snow.
"B-b-b-bite me. S'c-o-ld." the younger officer mutters drunkenly, barely able to move his legs to walk.
"We're just gonna get you up to the RMP, Bosco. Then you'll be warm," Sully tells him.
"…th-th-think I'll jus' s-stay here…." Bosco slurs, and his whole body suddenly goes slack.
Sully curses loudly, then bends down to put one arm under Bosco's knees, and the other across his back. As he lifts, he definitely feels something pull in his lower back, but pushes the minor discomfort aside.
Bosco is a dead weight in his arms, and his shallow, raspy breathing does nothing to ease Sully's mind.
"You'd better not die on me, Boscorelli…you hear me? Not tonight. Not like this," he whispers fiercely as he trudges through the snow to 55-Charlie and eases the younger man down onto the passenger seat.
Sully can hear Faith on the radio, frantic words being yelled to the dispatcher. "Central be advised, we are transporting two patients, and officer and a young child, to Mercy for hypothermia!"
"Yokas, are you good to go?" He shouts at her over the hood of 55-Charlie.
"Yeah, go!" She waves him off, her eyes wild with worry, then ducks behind the wheel of 55-David, the unconscious little girl already bundled in the passenger seat.
Sully talks to Bosco the entire drive to the hospital, occasionally reaching across the seat to press his fingers against the ice cold skin of the younger officer's neck to feel for a pulse.
A few times he hears the other man moan softly as the car bounces along snowy streets.
It's his only reassurance that Bosco is still alive.
The stupidity of jumping in the river is not lost on him.
He'd been driven by the terror that the little girl wrapped in the pink winter coat would drown in those icy waters on Christmas Eve. He couldn't have lived with that, not when there was a chance to save her.
He'd known it was a bad idea as soon his body hit the water. Cold like he'd never experienced before immediately took his breath away, every nerve-ending bursting with agony. He swears he could feel his muscles constricting in pain, and it took everything he had to swim out to that sinking car.
By the time he went under the first time, his body was comfortably numb, his mind on overdrive.
He hadn't been able to pull the back driver's side door open at first, and had cursed inwardly as he swam back up for more air.
The second time around, he'd gripped the frame of the door with numb fingers and kicked in the window with the heel of his boot.
Reaching in to wrap his arms around the still, limp body of the little girl, he pushed off the roof of the vehicle and kicked madly for the surface.
By that time, he was growing tired, and it was getting increasingly difficult to breath with the added weight of the child in his arms.
He'd gritted his teeth stubbornly, trying not to focus on his burning lungs. The only thing that mattered was getting her to shore.
By the time he'd felt his knees scrape against the bottom of the River, he was unable to force his limbs to push him or the girl any farther out of the water.
"Help me!" he'd screamed desperately at his partner. Faith had immediately rushed forward to grab the little girl and haul him out of the water and onto his feet.
It was the oddest sensation, not being able to feel his legs, yet he remembers feeling no alarm as he promptly fell into a heap onto the snowy bank.
As soon as his legs gave out he knows he scared the shit out of Faith, as she yelled out to Sully with barely-concealed panic.
Everything seemed like it was in slow motion, sights and sounds distant and distorted.
He vaguely heard shouting; felt Faith gripping his arms, but all he could think about was the little girl, and he pushed her away.
A face appeared above him then, and he recognized Officer Sullivan.
"EMS is on their way, Bosco," Sully had said, donning him with his jacket and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
He'd asked about the girl, barely managing to form words through uncontrollable shivers.
"Just worry about yourself right now," Sully told him, and it occurred to Bosco that his efforts may have been in vain.
How long had she been under?
Was she already dead?
The world began to tip and spin dizzily, and it was getting harder for him to concentrate, to keep his eyes opened. He felt very, very tired, the weight of his limbs pulling him to the ground.
He knows he was talking after that, or at least trying to, but he can't remember what he said.
Then Sully pulled him to his feet, and his vision went fuzzy around the edges.
He remembers nothing after that.
She's sitting outside of his hospital room, staring blankly at the opposing wall.
She still can't believe what happened.
The nurses tell her that his core body temperature has risen back to its normal level, though when they brought him in, it was 92 degrees. The doctor had told her if he'd have been out there any longer, he could have suffered damage to his internal organs, or even have slipped into a coma and died.
But they got him here in time, and she tells herself that's all that matters.
Lifting her cell phone to her ear, she waits to hear the comfortingly familiar sound of her husband's voice.
"Faith?"
"Fred. Hey. Listen, I'm at the hospital."
"What happened?" Fred asks, his voice laced with obvious concern.
"I'm fine – it's Bosco. There was a car that went into the river, and he jumped in to save this little girl. We had to bring them both in for hypothermia."
Fred lets out a long-suffering sigh.
"Is he alright?"
She nods, though Fred can't see it. It's more to reassure herself.
"He will be. It was just a really close call tonight. And it's Christmas Eve...I just want to stay until his mother gets here."
There's a reluctant pause on the other end of the line. She knows how hard this is for him. It's Christmas Eve, and he had hoped his wife would be home at a decent hour. But she can't apologize for this. And she won't.
"Okay. Just…just call me before you leave the hospital so I know when to expect you."
"Okay. I love you. Bye."
A nurse walks up just as she is snapping her phone shut, and smiles warmly.
"Your partner's awake."
"He's okay?"
"His temp. is stable and his vitals are good. Dr. Murdoch said he could be released within the hour."
"That's great, thanks," Faith replies, relieved that her partner won't have to spend Christmas Eve in a hospital room.
"Oh, nurse – um…do you know anything about the girl we brought in?"
The nurse grows somber as she replies, "She's alive. But she's in a coma."
Faith nods sadly. Somehow she'd been hoping for two miracles tonight.
When she walks into Bosco's room and finds him sitting up, awake and alert, she decides promptly that one miracle is enough.
"Hey," she greets him with a soft smile.
"Hey," his voice sounds a bit hoarse, but he looks good. His face no longer appears pale and blue-tinged, and his eyes have lost their glazed look.
"Faith – you gotta try one of these warming blankets!" He tells her excitedly. "I'm so warm, I don't wanna move!"
"You still cold?" She asks, concerned.
He predictably shrugs her off. "I'm fine. How's the girl?"
"She's alive," Faith says simply, not wanting to hurt him.
"But…?" He prompts, crestfallen. "Come on, Faith. I know there's a 'but'."
"She's in a coma."
"Oh."
"Bos, you saved her life—"
"Faith, don't," he says with a wave of his hand. His eyes roam the room aimlessly, trying to hide his disappointment. "Does she have any family?"
"Her father was the driver," Sully interjects, making his presence known in the doorway.
"You're kiddin'," Bosco retorts in disbelief. "I thought she was kidnapped or somethin'."
"Nope. And get this – the shots you heard in the apartment beforehand? It was an armed robbery, and according to witnesses, the man who did it was known addict in that area; a friend of the father's."
"So they robbed some guy for dope money," Bosco summarized, shaking his head in disgust.
"Yeah, and that poor little girl was in the back seat," Faith adds sadly. "Hey, any word on other relatives she might have? A mother?"
"Social services is trying to track down the mother as we speak. I'm sure they'll find her."
Sully turns to Bosco. "How're you doing, by the way?"
"Just about ready to get out of here."
"It was a stupid thing you did back there, you know. But I'm glad you're alright."
Bosco, realizing that in some backhanded way Sully is complimenting him, rolls his eyes and scoffs.
"All in a day's work," he replies cockily, because it is expected, then adds a sincere, "Thanks for savin' my ass, Sul."
"Oh, Bos! I forgot to tell you. I've been trying to get a hold of your mom, but she's not answering her phone – do you know where she is?" Faith suddenly exclaims.
She can tell by the sudden stormy look in Bosco's eyes that she's said something wrong, but can't think of what it could be. Sully notices it too, and takes it as his cue to leave.
"Well. It's been an eventful night. I think I'm gonna head out. Merry Christmas, you two."
"Merry Christmas, Sully," Faith answers distractedly. Her mind is still on her brooding partner.
"Why'd you have to bring that up?" Bosco asks irritably after Sully leaves.
"Bring what up?"
"My Ma. Why'd you have to call her? Just leave her out of it."
Faith's brow wrinkles in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Bos, it's Christmas Eve, and you're laying up in a hospital bed. I kinda thought she'd wanna know."
"I'm pretty sure she doesn't," is the resentful reply, and her mind rewinds to earlier in his shift, remembering his sullenness.
Is this the reason why he was in such a bad mood all day?
"You guys aren't spending Christmas together this year?" She asks, and for a moment the veil slips, and she can read it all in his eyes.
"She's out of town with her new boyfriend," he says, mouth twisting in disgust on the last word.
"But don't you like…go over to her place every year?"
"I don't approve of the boyfriend," Bosco explains angrily, not making eye contact. "She's pissed at me."
"Oh. I'm sorry—" She begins, but he quickly cuts her off with a glare.
"I don't need your pity."
His anger only saddens her. He shouldn't have to feel this way on Christmas Eve. He should have his mother here waiting for him, fussing over him. He should at least have someplace to go—family.
"What about Mikey?" She asks, knowing full well that she's on dangerous ground now.
"What, you think he gives a damn about Christmas? I haven't even spoken to him in three months."
He shoves the blankets off him then, easing off of the bed gingerly. Wincing, he carefully pulls out the IV that pumped him full of painkillers which are just beginning to wear off.
Even now, hours later, his muscles ache from the bone-deep cold of the river.
"I'm gonna get dressed; call a cab…." He looks up at her, his expression unreadable. "Go home, Faith. It's Christmas Eve. Go be with your family."
She watches as he pulls his now-dry t-shirt on, then his NYPD turtleneck sweater. It is a painstakingly long process as his fingers are clumsy, his muscles tight and sore. She sees the dark shadows under his eyes, the exhausted slump of his shoulders, and she knows she can't leave him alone.
The words are out of her mouth before she can think of how to phrase them without him taking offense.
"Why don't you come home with me? Spend Christmas with me and Fred and the kids."
His head shoots up to glare at her.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I told you, Faith, I don't want your damn pity!" The words are spoken with such vehemence that it sends him into a short coughing fit.
"Is everything alright in here?" Mary Proctor walks in, heading over to Bosco's bed. "I wanted to check your vitals one more time before you sign out."
"I'm fine," her partner rasps irritably, and the older nurse rolls her eyes.
Proctor clucks her tongue as she checks Bosco's blood pressure and pulse, then listens to his heart and lungs. This young police officer has been in the hospital numerous times over the past two years for all sorts of injuries and illnesses, yet he's escaped serious harm once again.
"You're a lucky man, Boscorelli," she comments with a shake of her head. "But then again, it is Christmas."
Faith swallows before speaking. "Proctor, do you think…I mean should someone stay with him tonight?"
Bosco groans loudly in exasperated protest.
Proctor frowns. "It'd probably be a good idea. Just to make sure he stays warm and gets plenty of rest. It's rare that complications arise once we've stabilized body temperature, but it is possible."
She turns to again to Bosco. "You're gonna be real tired and sore for a couple days. I can fill out a prescription for muscle relaxers, if you want."
"I'm fine!" Bosco retorts, his voice cracking.
"You'll have to watch out for signs of pneumonia, too" Proctor continues. "You probably got some of that river water in your lungs. Does your throat hurt?"
Bosco rolls his eyes and crosses his arms defiantly in front of his chest. "Just get me the damn forms so I can sign myself out, how 'bout that?"
"Alright, alright. They'll be at the front desk when you're ready," she says, throwing her hands up and hurriedly leaving the room.
Before she leaves, she pats Faith on the arm and smiles knowingly. "Merry Christmas Faith, and good luck."
"I'm not going home with you, Faith," he mutters stubbornly.
"Bosco, look – it's not out of pity, alright? It's because you're my partner, and we've both had a rough night. I could've lost you."
She pauses, the weight of her own words hitting her for the first time.
"God, Bos…I almost lost my partner on Christmas Eve."
"Yeah, but you didn't. I'm still here."
"That's not the point. I just…you're my partner. And you're my best friend. And it would mean a lot to me if you spent Christmas with me and my family."
Bosco hangs his head. She can't tell whether it's a concession, or whether he's just too tired to argue anymore. Either way, she knows she's won this battle.
"What does Fred say?" He asks, wincing as he bends to pull on his pants. Faith automatically turns to face the door to give him some privacy.
"He's fine with it," she lies, and is glad he can't see it in her face.
Fred will understand. He has to.
She drives the RMP back to the stationhouse so they can change. She has to wait fifteen minutes for him in the locker room because he's so stiff and sore that it takes him forever to change in to civvies.
By the time they're in the cab to take them to Faith's apartment, it's 1 a.m., and he's fallen asleep, head turned toward the window.
"Bos, we're here," she says suddenly, and his head shoots up in confusion.
"Remember? You're spending the night at my place?" She explains patiently, letting him get his bearings. He must've been sleeping pretty deeply.
He staggers once he steps out into the cold, overcome by fatigue, and she places a hand on his elbow as they walk up the steps of her apartment complex.
By the time they reach her apartment, he looks like he's going to drop any second, and in the dimly entrance, he just stands there dumbly.
Faith closes the door behind them quietly, then gently lays her keys on the table and sheds her hat, gloves, and coat.
"You were supposed to call me when you left…" Fred whispers loudly, padding out into the kitchen. His voice trails off when he sees Bosco.
"Faith?" His tone is one of both surprise and accusation, and Faith gives him a pointed look.
"I'll talk to you in a minute, Fred. Let me get him settled," she says, moving quickly to pull off her rapidly fading partner's hat and gloves.
"Settled?" Fred hisses, confused.
She opens her mouth to argue with him again, but is cut off abruptly when Bosco's knees finally give out and he begins sliding toward the floor.
"Bosco!" She huffs, alarmed, hooking her arms underneath his to catch him. "What are you doing?"
"Sorry. Really tired," he mumbles sluggishly, eyes set at half mast. He's so exhausted he can barely get his feet to hold his weight again.
"It's okay," she assures him, struggling to hold him up and slip off his coat at the same time.
"Fred, give me a hand!" She snaps at her gaping husband, and he moves to steady Bosco as she peels off his coat.
In two years, he's never seen his wife's partner look so weak and exhausted, and it unsettles him to the point of speechlessness.
Gently, Faith takes her partner's arm and leads him over to the couch.
"Lie down," she whispers, helping him ease back when his aching muscles protest.
"Tired…" he whispers again, and she shushes him.
"Fred, get me some pillows and blankets from the closet," she instructs her husband quietly.
Bosco is already half asleep by the time Fred returns, and she can't help but smile at how angry her strong-willed partner would be if he realized she was 'tucking him in'.
"'Night partner," she whispers as she tucks the blankets around his sleeping form.
Fred is waiting in the hallway, and follows her into the bedroom to talk.
"Faith, what are you doing? What is this? Why is he here?"
She sits on the bed tiredly, looking out the window as she speaks. "Fred, he almost died tonight. He's was hypothermic, and the doctors said if we'd gotten him to the hospital any later he probably wouldn't have made it. I could have lost him, tonight, Fred. I almost did."
"I know, but…doesn't he have his own family to go home to?" He asks, rubbing his balding head with his hand.
She shakes her head. "His mother's out of town."
"Well, is he alright? I mean…he looked pretty out of it. I don't want him collapsing tomorrow and scaring the kids."
"He should be okay. Bosco just doesn't stop until everything catches up with him; then his body makes him stop. He's going to be tired and sore, but he'll be okay."
Her husband sighs, a sound of surrender, then moves to place warm, gentle hands on her shoulders.
"Christmas with Bosco?" he suggests. "Should be entertaining."
She grins and turns to kiss him. "Thank you for understanding."
Bosco moans as he awakens slowly to the sound of clanging dishes and the smells of breakfast.
"Ma?" He whispers hoarsely, wondering when she got back and how he ended up at her house.
He hears a high-pitched giggle, that of a child, and his eyes fly open in shock.
Emily and little Charlie are standing over him in their pajamas, grinning from ear to ear.
"Whoa!" He cries out in surprise, sitting up quickly.
His head swivels as he takes in his surroundings. He's in Faith's apartment.
Abruptly, the memories from the night before assault his mind, and he groans before sinking into the couch cushions and covering his eyes with his hand.
He hears another giggle, then, "Mommy! Uncle Bosco is awake!"
"You kids leave him be!" Faith shouts from the kitchen. "Emily, come help me cook."
Emily pouts her way to the kitchen, but Charlie remains, staring at him shyly.
Bosco figures he should say something. "Hey, Chuck."
"Did you bring presents?" Charlie asks expectantly, face breaking into a cautious smile.
"Charlie!" Fred admonishes him. "That's not polite."
"Why? Uncle B. brought us presents last year! Last year he got me a truck!"
Last year, Bosco had showed up at her door late Christmas day, dressed in a loose-fitting Santa suit, holding a backpack full of gifts for her kids.
He'd had a silly smile on his face, and blushed scarlet when she laughed at him.
"Hope it's okay," he'd said. She was laughing so hard she couldn't answer him, just let him inside.
"You tell anybody about this, and I'll have to kill you," he'd jokingly whispered.
"They wouldn't believe me, anyway," she'd told him with a grin.
She knows he did it because Fred had lost his job earlier that year, and she'd been complaining about not being able to give the kids a decent Christmas.
She'd had no idea that her temperamental partner even listened to what she said, much less cared enough to go out of his way to make her kids feel special.
It had completely shocked her, and added a new depth to their still-new partnership.
"Charlie, go wash your hands before breakfast," Faith says, stopping to smile at Bosco from the kitchen.
"Hey! How're you feeling this morning?"
"Uh…fine. M' fine," he lies, sitting up with a barely-masked wince. He's not fine. He feels like he has the flu and the worst hangover ever, combined.
He hadn't slept well all night. He kept dreaming about the little girl.
"Um…do you have any aspirin?" he asks hoarsely.
Her smile fades a bit with concern at his soft question.
"Sure, and I'll get you a glass of water."
As she is standing in front of him minutes later, watching him down the pills, he ducks his head guiltily.
"Faith, I don't have any…I mean, I didn't really have time this year to…to get anything."
"Don't worry about it," she assures him. "They're just greedy little buggers."
He shakes his head.
"I don't want to disappoint 'em," he says, inclining his head to where her children are chattering with their father out in the kitchen. "Maybe I should just head out, you know?"
"Bosco, that's ridiculous," she tells him with a small laugh. "They're fine. Once they start opening their presents they'll forget all about it, believe me. And you're staying."
Impulsively, she reaches out with one hand to smooth a tuft of his short hair with her fingers, the move being so subtle and swift that even she wonders if it really happened.
"You okay? You look like hell," she says, dropping her voice lower.
"Yeah, I'm just a little sore." He pauses, looking away. "I wonder how that little girl's doing."
"Yeah, I know," she admits, then glances over at the kitchen when she hears a loud clatter.
"Mommy, Charlie dropped the pan!" Emily whines loudly.
"She bumped into me!" Charlie retorts defensively.
"Alright, you two!" Fred raises his voice, bending to clean up the mess. "Go wait at the table."
"I'd better get out there," Faith says with a roll of her eyes. "Damage control."
She pauses and looks at him again, her green eyes soft against her cream cashmere sweater.
He still has that dazed, exhausted look in his eyes, and she doesn't want to push him to do anything.
"You sleep as long as you want, okay? You can even go back and use Charlie's bed, if you want."
"No, I'm good here – thanks," he assures her. He couldn't move right now if he wanted to.
She nods, then turns to walk back out into the kitchen as he calls to her.
"Hey, Faith? Merry Christmas," he says, and his gratefulness is evident in his eyes.
Her face practically glows at his simple words, and she smiles warmly.
"Merry Christmas, Bos."
"You sure he's okay?" Fred asks hours later, long after the presents have been opened and the kids were sent to their rooms to nap.
She's sitting on his lap at the kitchen table, a coffee mug in her hands.
Bosco had slept through the whole thing, barely moving; his breaths deep and even.
She'd checked on him several times, worried that he was unconscious, but he seemed alright. She hadn't had the heart to wake him, especially if he was tired enough to sleep through the squeals of her children over the crumpling sounds of ripped wrapping paper.
"I don't know. He's been laying there for a long time. And he hasn't eaten anything. I'd imagine he's hungry." She shakes her head. "I should probably wake him."
"I can't believe he slept through all that noise," Fred says with a snort, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.
She stands and walks over to the couch, reaching down gently to shake Bosco's shoulder.
His eyes flutter open and he lifts his head, letting out a soft sigh. "Faith?"
"Yeah, sleepyhead. You slept through Christmas."
He sits up slowly, feeling much better than the first time he'd awakened.
"What? What time s'it?"
"It's 4:30," Fred tells him from the kitchen. "You want something to eat?"
"Yeah…yeah I'm starved," Bosco says, rubbing his hands over his face. "I can't believe I slept that long."
"I'm sorry – we must've been so loud," Faith says apologetically.
"Are you kiddin'? That's probably the best sleep I've had all year," Bosco tells her as he stretches.
It's the truth. The sounds and smells of Christmas at Faith's had a calming effect on him, lulling him into a deep, restful sleep.
Half the time he can't sleep in his own apartment over the deafening sound of silence – yet apparently he can pass out on Faith's couch with her kids screaming and laughing in the next room.
He's not even going to try to figure that one out.
Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but she doesn't question him. He looks much better than he did six hours ago, and sounds better, too.
"Just so you know, Fred and I's parents will be coming over around six for dinner," she says. "You're welcome to join."
Bosco stands slowly, shaking his head. "Nah, I think I'll be out of here by then. Thanks, though."
"You should stop by late tonight – have drinks with me and Faith," Fred offers, ignoring his wife's look of surprise.
He's been wary of Bosco since Faith partnered with him, not liking the younger man's cavalier antics.
But he's always treated Fred with a measure of respect as Faith's husband, and that's been enough for him to be tentatively accepted as part of the family.
"Yeah?" Bosco asks, shooting Faith a questioning glance.
"Yeah, I mean…yeah," she agrees quickly. "That sounds good. You should stop by around 11."
"Uh…better make it 11:30, if that's okay. I got somewhere I need to be."
"Really? Where?" Faith asks, genuinely curious, since she knows his mom is out of town.
"Christmas Mass at Sacred Heart. I go every year, usually on Christmas Eve, but well…." he shrugs.
"No kiddin'? You go to Mass? I didn't think you were the type, Bos." She gapes at him, completely surprised by this new information.
"It's tradition. Since I was a kid," he explains simply, and his eyes have this shy, open look that always makes her smile.
Then Fred places a reheated plate of leftovers from breakfast in front of him, and Bosco tears into it like he hasn't eaten in years.
While he's eating, Fred and Faith head out to living room, and Bosco can hear their whispers as they put on soft Christmas music.
He washes his plate in the sink before grabbing his coat, gloves, and hat, and heading out into the living area. He stands for a moment, lost in the scene before him.
Fred and Faith are dancing, slow and quiet, in the middle of the living room behind the couch.
It's like something out of a movie, and the child in Bosco is touched by the scene.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that he should be more jealous of Fred than he should be of Charlie and Emily. But he can't.
Because Fred and Faith are great together, and they mirror something he's always wanted since he was a small boy – two loving parents, and a real, functional family.
It makes the pang of knowing his own mother is upset with him hurt that much more, and he clears his throat to end the agony so he can get out of there.
"Oh! Sorry," Faith blushes, pulling away from her husband. "You leaving?"
"Yep. Thanks for the food, and well…everything. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Don't forget to stop by later, okay?" she tells him as she walks him to the door.
"I won't."
"Maybe I'll let you play with Charlie's presents like last year – how does that sound?" She jokes dryly.
He smiles at the rib, stepping out into the hallway.
"Hey Bosco," she begins, her voice uncertain.
"Yeah?"
"I was thinking…maybe you should call your mom, you know? She can't stay mad at you on Christmas."
His eyes drop to the floor. "I don't know, Faith…."
"I'm a mom, Bosco. I know how moms are. Trust me." He looks up at her, doubting.
"Just think about it, okay? I'll see you later," she says, then slowly shuts the door.
Later, when he stops by to share drinks and eggnog with her and Fred, he will tell her about how he called his mother and made amends. Then he will ask what Charlie got for Christmas, and Faith will show him her son's pile of gifts under the tree. He'll pick out one or two cool toys to fiddle with while he talks to them, her and Fred teasing him all the while.
Before he leaves for the night, Faith will stop him in the doorway, a gentle hand on his arm.
"Sully called me earlier. That little girl you saved? She woke up. She's been reunited with her mother, and she's gonna be okay."
He will let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, head bobbing at her words. And she will see in his eyes that it's the best gift he could have received.
As he turns toward the door, he'll apologize, in his own way of course, for not having bought any gifts for her or her children this Christmas.
"I feel like maybe I should've given you and the kids something this year."
She will think of how many times he's saved her life this year, and all the times that he's put her needs and her family before his own.
And her eyes will fill with tears as she tells him honestly, "You already have."
A/N: Blessings to all this holiday season! Be safe.