Third Watch, 12 Days of Christmas: Day 9: Heaven and Earth (1/1)
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas series: Fic #9: Heaven and Earth
Authors: NYPDBosco and X_tremeroswellian
Emails: mauriceboscorelli@yahoo.com & faithboscorelli1@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not ours.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Summary: Bosco discovers how important he is to those he loves.
Author's Note: This is loosely based on the famous movie, "It's a Wonderful Life."
Heaven and Earth
Everyone who attended Midnight Mass filed out into the crisp winter air, but he remained seated. Alone in the church with just his thoughts. He'd been eager to get to the church, to hear the priest's homily. Every Christmas Eve he came here enjoying the feel of being in the church, being surrounded by other people who all wore their Christmas spirit, and faith on their sleeves.
He prayed for the people he loved, asked God to protect them. His mother. Mikey. Faith. The boys in blue. And even the bucket boys who worked across from the precinct. But it was after the service that he'd taken a look around. Noticed how the majority of the parishioners were their with their families. They were there -with- the ones they loved, and here he was, not spending time with his loved ones, but merely praying for them. It was then that he realized just how alone he was, and how badly he'd screwed up in the past year. If it had just been his life that he'd screwed up that would be okay. He could live with that. But it wasn't just his life. It was Faith's, and even Cruz's lives that he'd changed.
And that didn't sit right with him.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Father Michaels asked, his voice quiet as he approached Bosco.
He looked up, and blinked a few times. "Uh...no, Father."
He nodded slightly. "Well, you have a merry Christmas," he said kindly.
"You too," he whispered before slowly rising out of the pew, and heading for the church exit.
Father Michaels gazed after him, an unsettled feeling in his heart.
Bosco got into his car, and began to drive. He wasn't sure where he was going, but as long as it wasn't his empty apartment it would suffice. As he drove down the darkened streets he noticed many of the houses, and apartments with Christmas lights shining in the windows. He remembered how every year he'd complain about people putting Christmas decorations out right after Thanksgiving, and how Faith would always smile and tell him how it helped her get into the spirit. She'd always make him drive down certain streets because she knew that the houses there were always light up with colorful lights.
He didn't know how long he'd been driving, but he eventually found himself under the bridge. The bridge that he and Faith had been parking under ever since they'd been partners. It was where they'd lay low, and over the past ten years they'd had some great conversations here. With a sad expression on his face, and a heavy feeling in his body he reached under the front seat for his off duty gun.
Slowly he opened his car door, and moved around to the front of his mustang where he sat on the hood. Holding his gun between his hands he gazed out at the river. His mind playing a reel of some of the good times he and Faith had together over the years. But the good times quickly ended, and he saw the night in Noble's hotel room. The anger. The blood. The fear. He swallowed hard, and shook his head trying to rid the memories from his mind. However those memories were replaced with the recollection of Faith sitting in a wheelchair...paralyzed.
Bosco closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before raising his gun.
"Of all the people on the face of this earth, I never thought I'd havta pay this visit to you, Bosco."
Startled he quickly put the gun down, and opened his eyes.
"You just never seemed the type."
"I'm losin' my mind," Bosco whispered.
"You are if you're thinkin' about eatin' your gun."
He set the gun down on the hood of his car, and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not really seein' you." He shook his head.
He looked down at himself. "Well, I'm not invisible, so...I think you are."
"But you're...you're dead."
"Dead is a relative term."
"I'm goin' insane."
"You know, most of us thought you'd done that long ago." He smirked. "What, with the way you'd run into burning buildings and go places without backup."
"You're not really here." Bosco stood up, and paced a few steps. "I'm just...I'm just tired."
"Actually, I am really here. I always take these kinds of calls. At least I have since Kim..." He paused, shook his head.
Bosco spun around, and stared at Bobby. "I don't need your help!"
Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's too bad. Cause you're gettin' it anyway."
"Just leave me alone!" He went back over to the car, and grabbed his gun. "I got it under control."
He rolled his eyes, waved his arm, and the gun flew out of Bosco's hand. "Obviously."
"What the..."
"You really think you wanna die, Bosco? Cause quite frankly at this point, I can't see you workin' up there directly for the Big Guy."
"Why not? Cause I'd screw it up?! Just like I screw up everything!"
"Wow. Defensive. Some things don't change."
"If you weren't already dead..."
Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, that's a good one. You're a funny man, Bosco."
Bosco's eyes narrowed. "Leave me the hell alone, Bobby."
"Sorry. Can't."
"Just...just tell the 'Big Guy' that you got here too late." Bosco went about searching for his gun.
"Are you lookin' for this?" he asked, holding the gun up.
"Gimme the gun."
"Okay." He waved his hand over it, melting the bullets inside the gun before floating it back over to the officer.
He quickly grabbed the gun, and once again raised it, prepared to take his life.
Bobby folded his arms across his chest, amused.
Bosco pulled back on the trigger, resulting in a mere 'click'. He squeezed the trigger a few more times.
He yawned, covering his mouth as he looked out over the water, bored.
"I hate you," he yelled as he threw the gun in Bobby's direction.
"Of course you do." He shook his head. "Can we get started now?"
"I need to fix this, Bobby! Don't you get that? Just leave me alone, and let me fix it." His voice was near desperate.
"And you think killin' yourself's gonna fix anything?"
"If I'm dead I can't screw anything else up!"
"Why do I always get the tough assignments?" Bobby mumbled under his breath. "You think your life is worthless? That everyone would be better off without you?"
"Yes!"
"Why don't we test that theory."
Bosco stood silently for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest. "How?"
"As of right now, Maurice Boscorelli never existed."
"What? What are you talkin' about?"
"Just what I said." Bobby shrugged. "No one in your life knows you. You never existed to them, at all."
"You're jokin', right?"
"No joke, Bosco." He moved toward the passenger seat of Bosco's car. "Here's the deal. They'll be able to see you, but they won't have any idea who you are because you don't exist in their lives. You're a stranger. You think everyone's better off without you? Let's take a look at their lives then."
* * *
Bosco followed Bobby's directions as the other man gave them. He had no idea where they were, and still wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he'd given in. "So...where exactly are we?"
"We're goin' to visit your brother Mikey."
"But technically he's not my brother cause I don't exist, right?"
"Now you're catchin' on." Bobby looked out the window.
He continued driving down the long, dark road waiting for Bobby to tell him where to turn next. "We almost there?"
"Yep. Take a right up ahead and then pull off the road."
He slowed the car down to make the turn, and then pulled off to the side. Bosco looked over at Bobby. "Where are we?"
"Where your brother lives." Without further explanation, Bobby reached for the door handle, opened the car door, and stepped out of the mustang.
Bosco looked around, but it was too dark to really make anything out. He shrugged, and got out of the car.
"Follow me." He led the way to the entrance of the dark cemetery.
"Whoa. Whoa, wait a second." Bosco looked up at the sign above the gate leading into the cemetery. "I thought you said we were goin' to my brother's."
"We are." Bobby kept walking until he came to a small tombstone which read 'Michael Boscorelli. Beloved Son. March 26, 1971-July 7, 1979'. He motioned to it. "Meet Mikey."
"Look, this isn't funny, Bobby."
"Do you see me laughin'?"
He glanced at Bobby before returning his gaze to the tombstone. Bosco then dropped to his knees, and ran his fingers over the words. "He was only eight," he said softly.
"You recognize the date?" Bobby's voice was equally soft.
He swallowed hard, and nodded his head. "That was...that was the day my dad..." Bosco's voice trailed off.
"Beat the hell out of you," he finished quietly.
"I was in the hospital for days," he whispered.
Bobby nodded slightly. "Almost didn't make it."
Bosco remained silent as he stared at his little brother's tombstone.
"You didn't exist this time. So your dad went after Mikey. And Mikey was never as strong as you were. His ribcage was and his lungs punctured. The medics got there too late."
His lip trembled slightly, and he wiped at his eyes.
Bobby fell silent, watching him carefully.
Bosco pushed himself off the ground, and headed back toward the mustang. "I gotta get outta here."
"Yeah. Let's go visit your mother."
He stopped, and turned to look at Bobby. "Please tell me she's alive."
"Oh, she's alive." He nodded. Barely, he thought.
Breathing a sigh of relief he walked over to the car.
* * *
"This is the place," Bobby told him as Bosco pulled his car to a stop in front of St. John's Institution for Better Mental Health.
"My mother...is -here-?"
"Yep. Room number 22, second floor."
Bosco shook his head. "No."
"Don't believe me? Let's go see her." Bobby climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him.
He sat in the car for a moment staring out the window toward the entrance of the facility. "No way," he whispered. Bosco got out of the car. "Bobby, you're wrong. There's no way my mother's here."
"You'd be amazed what seeing your only child murdered by your husband can do to your mind."
"I don't wanna see her."
Bobby stopped and turned to face him. "You're the one who wanted to see what your friends and family's lives would be like without you. This is it, Bosco."
"But this isn't right." He shook his head. "Just because I was gonna..."
"Kill yourself?"
He nodded his head.
"You think that wouldn't make your mother insane?"
"They're all better off without me," he said softly. "At least now they are."
"Oh, really?" Bobby shook his head. "You've got a lot to learn. You think this is all about how you feel? How your death effects you? You're wrong. It effects -every- person in your life. You think you haven't done anything good? Your brother would have died if he'd been the one to take the beatin' you took that night. And your mother's locked away in an institution so doped up on anti-psychotics and anti-depressants that half the time she can't make it out of bed just to go to the bathroom."
Bosco flinched at his words, and looked down at the ground.
"If you didn't exist, every single person you've ever helped as a human being, or as a police officer...every single one of their lives would be completely different."
He let out a breath, and ran his hand through his hair before walking around the car to meet Bobby on the other side.
"Do you wanna see your mother? Or not?" His voice was soft.
"Not like this," he whispered.
Bobby nodded. "Why don't we take a trip to the 55th precinct?"
* * *
Bosco pulled up in front of the precinct to find someone parked in his usual spot. He didn't dare voice that thought though because he knew Bobby would just remind him that he didn't exist in this life. After finding a spot he turned the car off, and glanced at Bobby.
"Looks the same from the outside, doesn't it?" Bobby remarked before he got out of Bosco's mustang.
He nodded his head as he got out of the car. "Yeah, I obviously didn't have much to do with the building's construction."
He glanced at Bosco, an amused grin on his face. "Very cute."
"So, what's in store for me here?"
"Let's go in and find out." He led the way up to the entrance of the police station, pulling the door open and stepping inside.
He followed Bobby into the precinct, and smiled softly at the faces he recognized. It was good to know that even without him some people were still living the lives that he knew.
"The people on your shift are just about to leave. Stand here and you can see some of them."
Bosco nodded his head, eager to see his friends, and know that everything was okay with them. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited. A few minutes later he glanced at the clock on the wall then over at Bobby. "You sure they were workin' today?"
"Everyone that's on that shift."
His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Yeah, but...none of my...friends were here," he said softly.
"Which friends?"
"Well, Davis and Sully." He paused. "Faith."
"Of course they're not here. Davis and Sully both died a year and a half ago."
"What?!"
"Remember that shootout between the street gang and the Russian mobsters?"
"Like I could forget that."
"You're the one who drew the line of fire from the outside away from that diner. You weren't there this time. Sully and Davis both died that day."
Bosco slumped down onto a nearby bench, and leaned his head back against the wall.
Bobby sat down next to him silently.
"They're dead," he asked in a whisper.
"Yes," he said quietly.
He swallowed hard, and very slowly rolled his head to the side to look at Bobby. "What about Faith?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
He glanced down at his watch. "Starting her shift right about now, I expect."
Bosco looked around the lobby of the station. "So, where is she?"
Bobby looked at him. "Oh. Not here. She doesn't work here."
"What?" He gave him a confused look. "Well...where does she work?"
He stood up. "Let's go and you can see for yourself."
With a heavy sigh Bosco pushed himself off the bench, and slowly shuffled his feet as he followed Bobby back out to the car. After everything he'd already found out tonight he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know any more.
* * *
"Here we are." Bobby gazed out the window of the mustang and at the neon sign on the building flashing "Girls, girls, girls."
He stared at the building, his face pale. "Now -this- is a joke right?"
"Unfortunately no. Come on." He reached for the door handle.
Bosco grabbed Bobby's arm. "She works here? -Faith-?"
He turned to look at Bosco. "Yeah. Faith works here."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"I mean, what happened? Why isn't she a cop?"
"Oh, she went through the academy. Aced every exam."
"But that doesn't make any sense."
"It makes perfect sense. She's a very intelligent woman."
"No." He shook his head. "I mean it doesn't make any sense that she ended up working here if she aced everything."
"Oh, she didn't ace -everything-. Just all the written exams. All the physical ones too. But...let's just say she couldn't hit a target to save her life."
He nodded his head, understanding why Faith wasn't a cop. "I wasn't there to help," he said softly.
"You taught her to shoot."
"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain how she ended up here." Bosco pointed toward the building.
"She needed the money. She had kids. Well, one now."
"One?" His eyes widened. "No."
He nodded slightly. "Her daughter Emily? Died around last Christmas. Drug OD."
"I gotta go talk to her." Bosco reached for the handle, and pushed his door open.
"Yeah. Let's go." Bobby climbed out of his side of the car as well.
Bosco paused outside of the entrance to the club, and took a deep breath as he tried to prepare himself.
"Come on." He pulled the door open and stepped inside.
He followed Bobby inside, and scanned the club for his best friend. Relief washed over him when he spotted Faith carrying a tray of drinks, and not on stage dancing. "At least she's a waitress," he said softly.
Bobby was quiet for a moment. "Don't be so relieved yet." He nodded toward Faith, indicating the short black skirt and low cut shirt she was wearing, dressed like all the other waitresses in the club. "Believe me when I say she gets just as much attention as the ones on stage."
"Yeah, but at least she's not strippin'."
Unaware that she was being watched from across the room, she began setting the drinks down on the table that the men were gathered around. The man closest to her slid his hand up and rested it on her backside. Her body tensed immediately but she didn't move. "Can I get you guys anything else?"
He grinned at her, giving her backside a squeeze. "I can think of something."
"Sorry, I'm not on the menu."
"Faith." A man from behind the bar shot her a warning glare, his arms folded across his chest. "You know our policy. The customer is always right."
The customer's grin widened, and he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and held it up for Faith to see.
She closed her eyes, flinching slightly as he tucked it into her bra.
"You interest me a whole lot more than those girls on stage."
She didn't try to pull away as he pulled her onto his lap. Swallowing hard as his hands came to rest on her thighs.
Bosco's jaw was clenched, and he started to make his way over to the table.
Bobby didn't try to stop him.
"Hey Faith," he called her name as he got closer to the table.
She looked up, startled and saw a man walking toward her. She glanced around, then back at him uncertainly, sure he was talking to someone else. She flinched as the other man slid his hand a little higher up her thigh.
Bosco reached for Faith's arm. "Come on, Faith," he said softly.
She stared at him. "Who the hell are you?"
"What?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "It's me. Bosco."
"I think you're mistakin' me for someone else."
He shook his head. "Faith Yokas. Mother of Charlie and Emi--"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?"
"I just..." He looked down at the customer who wasn't real happy with the interruption. "You're better than this."
"I don't know who you are, but this is my job." Her voice was cold.
"Look, let's go talk," he said softly.
"No way," the guy said angrily, pulling her back against him. "I already paid the bitch. You wait your fuckin' turn."
"Don't talk about her like that! She's not a piece of meat you pervert!"
"I paid her and now it's her turn." He slid one hand up to cup her breast and she bit down on her tongue, her gaze dropping to the floor in humiliation.
"You son of a bitch!" Bosco grabbed the man's wrist, and bent his arm back.
"FAITH! What the -hell- is going on?" Her boss demanded, storming over to her.
Bosco looked up at the man, his eyes full of anger. "I think your customer was gettin' a little carried away."
"And who the hell are you? Her bodyguard?" He glared back, then turned his wrath on Faith. "Ever since you started here you've done nothing but cause problems. You think you're too good to perform the way the other girls do?" He demanded, motioning to a table where one of the other waitresses was giving a man a lap dance. "This is what you got hired for. And unless you want me to fire you--"
Her eyes widened. "No, I need this job!"
Bosco reached into his pocket hoping to come up with some money. "Uh..." He didn't remember having that much money in his pocket earlier that day, but he was happy to see it there now. He held it out to Faith. "I'd like a uh..."
Her boss looked at the hundred dollar bill that Bosco was holding out. "She'll do whatever you want. There's a room in back." He nodded toward a door.
Nodding his head Bosco reached for Faith's hand.
She flinched when he touched her, but she allowed him to lead her to the back, swallowing hard as he pushed open the door. Silently she dug a key out of her apron and unlocked one of the rooms. She stepped inside, flipped on the light, feeling sick at the sight of the bed.
He followed her into the room. "Do you have to come back here often," he asked quietly.
"Depends on the night," she answered distantly. She closed the door, doing her best to push aside her feelings of revulsion. "So what is it that you want?" She locked the door, her hand trembling slightly. "If you're expecting more than one thing, it's gonna cost ya more than a hundred." Her voice was emotionless, minus a slight tremor to it.
Bosco moved over to the bed, and sat down. He scooted back so he was leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. "I just wanna talk."
She gave a short, humorless laugh. "Right. What do you think? I was born yesterday?"
He shook his head. "Really. I just wanna talk. I saw you out there...I know you don't wanna do any of this."
"It doesn't matter what I want. You paid. What do -you- want? Wait. Let me guess. You look like you might be a blowjob kinda guy."
His eyes were sad as he gazed at her. "You've really changed," he whispered.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
He shook his head. "Nevermind. You won't believe me anyway."
"Look, would you just tell me what you want? A hundred dollars is great and all but I usually can make around 500 or 600 a night, so...can we get this over with so I can get back to makin' money?" Her eyes were lifeless. Her back resting against the wall as she stood as far away as possible from him.
"You're better than this, Faith."
"You don't know the first thing about me."
"I remember you from the academy. I remember how determined you were."
She stared at him. "What?"
"It's just...I know you, Faith. You may not know me, but I know you." He paused. "I know the person you should be."
Her eyes were narrowed. "I don't know what kind of game you're playin'..."
"It's no game. I promise." Bosco wiped his hands on his jeans nervously, feeling that talking was getting him nowhere.
"Please just tell me what you want from me." Her voice defeated.
"You deserve better than this," he said softly. "I want you to find another job."
"Right. So what, I'm just supposed to quit because some guy I've never seen before in my life wants to walk in and play knight in shining armor?"
"Does Charlie know what you do?"
There was a flash of fear in her eyes. "How the hell do you know my son?"
He sighed. "I told you, I know you from the academy."
Faith shook her head. "No. I remember everyone from the Academy. You aren't one of them."
"I don't really know how to explain this," he told her softly.
She glanced at the door out of the corner of her eye, inching toward it very slowly. Afraid she was dealing with a truly psychotic person.
"Why don't you sit down, and I'll try to fill you in?"
"You know, maybe some other time, okay? I should really get back to work." She swallowed hard, her body trembling as she slowly reached for the door handle.
Feeling defeated he reached into his pocket again figuring the last time he needed money he'd found it. He pulled out a wad of large bills, and held it out to her. "Faith, at least take this," he said softly. "Tell your boss you're sick, and go home."
She stared at him, tears forming in her eyes as she leaned against the door silently.
"Do yourself a favor, and think about tryin' to be a cop again," he whispered.
"I can't." Her voice was barely audible.
"Why not?"
She dropped her gaze to the floor. "You wouldn't understand."
He scooted to the edge of the bed. "Try me."
She swallowed hard, closed her eyes. "You asked if my son knew what I did? I do this -for- my son."
"Whaddya mean?"
"What other job's gonna pay me -half- as much as this one? I got pills to pay, I gotta feed my kid, make sure he has clothes. I wanna better than this life for him." She hesitated, stopping herself there even though there was a lot more to it.
He nodded his head. "You could provide for him without..." He motioned toward the bed. "Without doin' this."
"Not enough to--" She cut herself off.
"Tell me," he whispered.
"I can't."
"Sure you can, Faith. You don't know me. Who'm I gonna tell?"
"Anyone. It could get me killed." Her voice was full of fear.
He stood up, and walked over to her. "What's goin' on," he asked softly. "Let me help you."
She shrunk back away from him. "Did he send you?" she whispered, her face growing pale as she realized how badly she may have messed up by saying as much as she had.
"Who? Did who send me?" He shook his head in confusion.
Faith trembled. "Please. Don't hurt my son. Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt my son." Her voice was barely audible.
"Shhh. It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you, Faith. I just wanna help."
She closed her eyes, a sob catching in her throat as she slid down to the floor, her back against the wall.
Bosco crouched down, and gazed at her sadly. "Are you in trouble?" he asked quietly.
She nodded wordlessly, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I can help you," he whispered.
"How?" she whispered back.
"I can make it go away...whatever it is."
"Yeah. Right." She wiped a tear from her cheek.
"I'm serious."
"What? Are you like some kinda fairy godfather? Gonna make all this crap go away with the flick of a magic wand?"
"Something like that," he told her softly. "I told you earlier you wouldn't believe me."
Faith leaned her head back against the door, letting out a breath. "I never pictured this is how my life would be."
"What'd you picture?"
"I wanted to go to college. Get a good job. I wanted to be a police officer. Thought I could help people, you know?" Another tear slid down her cheek. "And my daughter.." Her voice broke and she closed her eyes tightly, her chest tight.
"I'm really sorry about Emily," he whispered as his eyes welled up with tears.
"She was so beautiful." She didn't even think about what he'd said. A tear slid out from beneath her eyelids. "And she was so smart. She was gonna be a doctor one day."
Bosco took her hand, and placed the wad of money in it. "I'm gonna help you," he told her softly.
"Thanks for the offer, but...this barely scratches the surface of what I owe."
"How much do you owe?"
A bitter smile appeared on her lips. "About three million dollars."
His eyebrows furrowed.
"My ex had a problem with gambling and drinking. He got involved with this Russian mobster who gave him a loan. Then he abandoned me and the kids and skipped town with what money we did have and the bitch cop he was bangin' on the side."
He closed his eyes, and let out a breath. "Tell ya what. Take this money, and tell the boss you're sick." Bosco paused for a moment, and bit his lip. "And when you wake up tomorrow everything'll be okay."
Faith stared at him, her eyes unreadable. "If I didn't know any better, I'd almost believe you." Her voice was very soft.
"Believe me," he whispered.
Another tear slid down her cheek. "Who are you?" she whispered back.
He gave her a warm smile. "My name's Maurice Boscorelli," he told her softly as he brushed the tear off her cheek. "And if I hadn't screwed up really bad I'd be your best friend."
She wasn't sure where it came from, but she had the urge to smile at him, faint as it was. "You're crazy, you know that?"
"Yeah." He nodded his head. "I'm startin' to think that too."
A soft chuckle escaped her lips.
He leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. "Just trust me, okay? And I'll see you tomorrow."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "You will?"
Bosco nodded his head. "Yeah. I'll come check on you."
"Promise?" she whispered.
"I promise."
Faith gazed at him for a moment, then kissed his lips softly before she stood up. "I don't take leaps of faith very often."
"I think this one's in your best interest," he told her softly.
She reached her hand out to help him up.
Smiling he slid his hand into hers, and allowed her to help him to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, Faith."
"I'm holdin' you to that, Maurice Boscorelli." She gazed at him a moment longer before turning and leaving the room.
He leaned against the wall for a few moments, then took a deep breath and headed back into the club. "Bobby!"
"Geez, Bosco. You don't have to yell. I'm right here." He appeared seemingly from out of nowhere.
"Get me the hell outta here."
"Who do you wanna go see now?"
"I wanna go back!"
"Back to the life where you think the people around you are better off without you?"
"Don't get cute with me. Just take me back."
"You're sure?" Bobby gazed at him seriously. "You wanna go back? You don't wanna start over again the way things are now?"
He shook his head. "Bobby, I -need- to go back."
"Back we go then." He snapped his fingers and they disappeared.
* * *
Bosco blinked a few times, and took in his surroundings. He was back underneath the bridge, sitting on the hood of his mustang.
Bobby gazed at him from a few feet away. "So you all settled then? You're past this crazy idea of killin' yourself?"
He swallowed hard, and nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
"Good. And you're goin' to see her, right?"
"I promised," he whispered.
He smiled softly. "Just remember...however bad you think her life is now. It could always be a lot worse."
Bosco ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks for makin' that clear."
"That's my job now." Bobby grinned. "I'm pretty good at it, too."
"Yeah, you're not bad," Bosco told him with a smirk.
He shook his head. "Do me a favor?"
"Absolutely."
"Tell Kim and Joey I said merry Christmas."
"Can't you get the Big Guy to let you tell them yourself?"
"Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. You gotta earn your wings before you can visit whoever you want."
"I'll make sure to tell them."
"Thanks. Take care, Bosco." Without another word, Bobby was gone.
Bosco exhaled, and slowly slid off the hood of his car. He moved around to the driver's side of the vehicle and climbed inside. After starting the car he looked at his watch. It was early Christmas morning, but he figured Charlie would have his parents and sister out of bed in another hour or so. When the mustang was warmed and ready to go he headed for his apartment to shower, change, and build up his nerve before appearing on the Yokas doorstep.
* * *
Faith sat curled up on the sofa alone, staring blankly out the window at the lightly falling snow. It was Christmas morning and she couldn't have had less enthusiasm. The apartment was completely silent. The last couple of Christmas's, Charlie and Emily had been sleeping in a little later than they used to, and she could still hear Fred snoring from down the hallway. She sighed softly and let her eyes drift shut.
Nothing about the day seemed right. She used to look forward to the morning when the kids would run into her and Fred's room, jumping and bouncing excitedly on the bed, begging to open their gifts. Then later in the day, the kids would settle down and play with their toys and gifts and Bosco would come over and have a drink or dinner with her and Fred. That wasn't going to happen this year. Probably any other year either. Tears pricked at her eyes.
* * *
Bosco stood outside Faith's door, dressed in a gray sweater and his best pair of jeans. He bit his lip, and shifted his weight nervously. He'd been standing outside her apartment for at least five minutes now, and hadn't been able to get himself to knock. He shifted the box he held under his arm, took a deep breath, and quickly knocked on the door.
* * *
She opened her eyes and her gaze shifted to the door, her eyebrows furrowing. It wasn't even seven in the morning. She wondered who would be knocking at that hour. She started to shift off the sofa, reaching for her chair when she heard Fred's footsteps coming down the hall.
"Morning," Fred mumbled through a yawn.
"Someone's at the door," she told him, still reaching for her wheelchair.
"You just stay there. I'll get the door."
She sighed softly, folding her hands in her lap.
Bosco ran his hand through his hair, and looked around the hallway as he waited for someone to answer the door.
Fred unlocked the door and pulled it open, scowling immediately. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I uh...I just wanted to stop by," he said softly.
"You stopped. Now go."
Faith's eyebrows furrowed and she leaned forward to try and see who was at the door. "Fred? Who is it?"
He swallowed hard when he heard her voice. "Fred just let me talk to her. Just for a minute."
"It's Christmas. Don't ruin this day for us. She doesn't wanna see you." His voice was cold as he completely ignored his wife.
"I'm not here to ruin anything, Fred."
"You already ruined my good mood."
"Fred? Is that Bosco?" There was a hint of disbelief to her tone.
"I won't stay long." He heard Faith's voice again, and lifted up on his tiptoes to try and see past Fred.
"You won't stay at all. Don't worry, babe. I'll get rid of him."
"Fred, wait, I wanna--"
He started to close the door and there was a loud crash from behind him, and Faith whimpered softly in pain as she lay on the floor.
Bosco's eyes widened, and he moved forward. "Faith?"
She swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her neck as she winced.
He put the box he was carrying down on the table by the door. "Faith, are you okay?"
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, I just...need a minute."
Fred walked over to her. "Here. Let me help you."
She pushed his hands away in embarrassment. "I said give me a minute."
Bosco stood a couple feet inside the door, on the edge of the living room.
After a moment, she drew in a breath before putting her weight on her hands and scooting her body back so she was leaned against the couch, closing her eyes, the pain still throbbing in her neck.
His emotions started to swirl inside of him as he watched Faith. He wanted to say something to her, but he knew it was best for him to just act like he wasn't there right now.
She felt his eyes on her. Both of their gazes were focused on her. "Bosco. Come on in. Close the door." Her voice was soft.
Bosco nodded his head, though he was a little caught off guard by her words. He moved to close the door, and then picked up the box he'd set on the table. "The bakery was open, so I uh...stopped. Got those cinnamon rolls you guys like."
"Thanks," she said softly.
Fred simply glared at him.
He tried to ignore Fred as he looked around the apartment, noticing how the furniture had been rearranged.
"Sit down."
Bosco slowly moved over to sit in the chair that was next to the sofa. He set the box of cinnamon rolls on the coffee table.
Faith drew in a breath and reached behind her, pressing her hands into the cushions as she strained to lift herself up on the sofa.
He bit his lip as he watched her, and shot a quick glance at Fred. He'd never seen her like this, and since they hadn't talked in a long time he had no idea what she was physically capable of. But he knew with Faith it was sometimes better to let her struggle than to offer to do something for her.
Apparently even after fifteen years of marriage, Fred still didn't quite grasp that concept. He leaned down to pick her up.
"I can do it myself," she said sharply, piercing him with a look that made him back off. A moment later she managed to hoist herself up onto the couch, her arms aching from the strain, and her neck aching from the fall. She leaned against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes for a moment tiredly.
"Need anything," Bosco asked softly.
Faith shook her head slowly, then opened her eyes to look at him, her expression unreadable.
"Okay, crisis over. Now get out," Fred commanded, losing his patience.
Bosco quickly turned to look at Fred. "Can you just give me a minute?"
"Give you a minute." He shook his head in disgust. "How many minutes have I given you with my wife in the past? And look where it landed her!" He kicked the side of the wheelchair lightly.
His shoulders slumped forward slightly. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
"Fred, give us a minute."
"Are you kiddin' me, Faith? You're gonna feel sorry for this jackass? Why, cause it's Christmas and he doesn't have his own family?"
She turned her head to glare at him. "I said give us a minute."
Fred returned the glare, then headed for the door. "I'll give you more than a minute." Without another word, he grabbed his coat, put his shoes on and left.
Bosco let out a breath. "I didn't mean to ruin your morning," he said softly.
"Don't worry about it. He's just pissed. He'll get over it."
He nodded his head, and looked around the room again. His leg bounced up and down from nervousness.
She gazed at him. "What brings you by?" Her voice was soft.
"Well uh...some stuff happened last night, and I just...needed to see you."
"Are you okay?"
"Better than last night," he told her, a sad smile on his face.
She gazed at him. "What happened last night?"
He took a deep breath, and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he debated whether or not to tell her.
"What is it, Boz?" she asked softly.
"I was gonna eat my gun," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Faith felt all the air leave her lungs, and her face drained of all color. "You...what?" she whispered.
He nodded his head slowly, but didn't look at her. "I went to church last night like I always do on Christmas Eve, and then somethin' just kinda happened." He paused. "Next thing I know..."
"Oh, God." Her eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled as she closed her eyes tightly.
Bosco turned to look at her. "Sorry. I shouldn't have told you. I didn't wanna upset you today."
She drew in a breath, unable to look at him, deeply shaken by his words.
"I should probably go," he whispered as he started to stand up.
"No--don't just leave."
He sat back down, not really wanting to leave anyway seeing as he hadn't seen or talked to her in such a long time.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, still unable to look at him.
"It's not your fault." He leaned back in the chair, and let out a breath. "I was thinkin' that...if I wasn't around everything would be okay."
"That is my fault." Her words were strained.
He shook his head. "No Faith, that's not your fault."
She buried her face in her hands, her body trembling. She'd pushed him so far away, made him feel so guilty about something that hadn't been his fault that he'd almost killed himself. She felt sick.
Bosco slowly slid out of the chair, and knelt on the floor in front of her. He gazed at her sadly, unsure of what to do.
"I never wanted that. Never. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Boz." Her voice was broken.
"Shhh. It's okay." He reached out, and put a hand on her arm.
She unburied her face from her hands and wrapped her arms around his neck, a soft sob escaping her lips. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," he whispered as he carefully slid his arms around her waist. "I thought I was gonna make things better...but I found out it wasn't gonna help."
She pressed her face against his shoulder, closing her eyes tightly. "Thank God you didn't go through with it. Boz, if you had..." She couldn't finish, drawing in a shuddering breath.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he whispered.
"I know." She slid herself closer to the edge of the sofa best she could, keeping her arms around him.
"I just had to come over today," he told her softly. "I couldn't stay away any longer."
Faith opened her eyes and pulled away just a little to look at him, sadness and tears still in her eyes. "Swear to God right here you won't ever do anything like that again. Ever."
He nodded his head, his lip trembling slightly as he gazed at her. "I swear, Faith."
A tear slid down her cheek and she touched his face as they gazed at each other silently.
"I learned my lesson last night," he informed her quietly.
"What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"I had a little help figuring out that taking my life wasn't going to make anything better for the people around me."
"Help? From who?"
"You're gonna think I'm nuts."
"Wouldn't be the first time," she said lightly.
A small smiled tugged at his lips. "Bobby," he whispered.
She stared at him for a moment. "Bobby? Bobby Caffey?"
"Yeah, crazy, huh?"
Faith was silent. "You mean...you saw him?"
"Saw him. Talked to him. Drove around in my car with him."
"Drove around in your car with him?"
Bosco nodded his head. "Told ya you were gonna think I'm nuts."
"No. I don't think you're nuts."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't." She gazed at him. "So...how did Bobby help you? What did he say?"
"Well, he showed up just before I was gonna--" He shook his head. "He told me how I mattered, and how me not being around would affect people. Then he...well we went to some places, and I learned what life woulda been like for certain people if I'd never existed," he told her softly.
Faith leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "You do matter, Boz. God, you matter." She closed her eyes as she hugged him again.
"I know that now," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry you felt like you didn't."
He gently rubbed her back as they held each other. "And I'm sorry for everything."
"It's not your fault," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Hey Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"Whenever you start feelin' down about your life...just remember that things could be a lot worse." He paused, and pulled away from her a little. "I know it may not seem like it, but..."
She gazed at him silently, wondering what exactly had happened the night before.
He smiled softly. "It's good to see you."
A soft smile touched her lips and she rested her hand against his cheek, not looking away. "It's good to see you too, Boz."
Authors: NYPDBosco and X_tremeroswellian
Emails: mauriceboscorelli@yahoo.com & faithboscorelli1@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not ours.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Nothing specific.
Summary: Bosco discovers how important he is to those he loves.
Author's Note: This is loosely based on the famous movie, "It's a Wonderful Life."
Heaven and Earth
Everyone who attended Midnight Mass filed out into the crisp winter air, but he remained seated. Alone in the church with just his thoughts. He'd been eager to get to the church, to hear the priest's homily. Every Christmas Eve he came here enjoying the feel of being in the church, being surrounded by other people who all wore their Christmas spirit, and faith on their sleeves.
He prayed for the people he loved, asked God to protect them. His mother. Mikey. Faith. The boys in blue. And even the bucket boys who worked across from the precinct. But it was after the service that he'd taken a look around. Noticed how the majority of the parishioners were their with their families. They were there -with- the ones they loved, and here he was, not spending time with his loved ones, but merely praying for them. It was then that he realized just how alone he was, and how badly he'd screwed up in the past year. If it had just been his life that he'd screwed up that would be okay. He could live with that. But it wasn't just his life. It was Faith's, and even Cruz's lives that he'd changed.
And that didn't sit right with him.
"Is there something I can help you with?" Father Michaels asked, his voice quiet as he approached Bosco.
He looked up, and blinked a few times. "Uh...no, Father."
He nodded slightly. "Well, you have a merry Christmas," he said kindly.
"You too," he whispered before slowly rising out of the pew, and heading for the church exit.
Father Michaels gazed after him, an unsettled feeling in his heart.
Bosco got into his car, and began to drive. He wasn't sure where he was going, but as long as it wasn't his empty apartment it would suffice. As he drove down the darkened streets he noticed many of the houses, and apartments with Christmas lights shining in the windows. He remembered how every year he'd complain about people putting Christmas decorations out right after Thanksgiving, and how Faith would always smile and tell him how it helped her get into the spirit. She'd always make him drive down certain streets because she knew that the houses there were always light up with colorful lights.
He didn't know how long he'd been driving, but he eventually found himself under the bridge. The bridge that he and Faith had been parking under ever since they'd been partners. It was where they'd lay low, and over the past ten years they'd had some great conversations here. With a sad expression on his face, and a heavy feeling in his body he reached under the front seat for his off duty gun.
Slowly he opened his car door, and moved around to the front of his mustang where he sat on the hood. Holding his gun between his hands he gazed out at the river. His mind playing a reel of some of the good times he and Faith had together over the years. But the good times quickly ended, and he saw the night in Noble's hotel room. The anger. The blood. The fear. He swallowed hard, and shook his head trying to rid the memories from his mind. However those memories were replaced with the recollection of Faith sitting in a wheelchair...paralyzed.
Bosco closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before raising his gun.
"Of all the people on the face of this earth, I never thought I'd havta pay this visit to you, Bosco."
Startled he quickly put the gun down, and opened his eyes.
"You just never seemed the type."
"I'm losin' my mind," Bosco whispered.
"You are if you're thinkin' about eatin' your gun."
He set the gun down on the hood of his car, and rubbed at his eyes. "I'm not really seein' you." He shook his head.
He looked down at himself. "Well, I'm not invisible, so...I think you are."
"But you're...you're dead."
"Dead is a relative term."
"I'm goin' insane."
"You know, most of us thought you'd done that long ago." He smirked. "What, with the way you'd run into burning buildings and go places without backup."
"You're not really here." Bosco stood up, and paced a few steps. "I'm just...I'm just tired."
"Actually, I am really here. I always take these kinds of calls. At least I have since Kim..." He paused, shook his head.
Bosco spun around, and stared at Bobby. "I don't need your help!"
Bobby raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's too bad. Cause you're gettin' it anyway."
"Just leave me alone!" He went back over to the car, and grabbed his gun. "I got it under control."
He rolled his eyes, waved his arm, and the gun flew out of Bosco's hand. "Obviously."
"What the..."
"You really think you wanna die, Bosco? Cause quite frankly at this point, I can't see you workin' up there directly for the Big Guy."
"Why not? Cause I'd screw it up?! Just like I screw up everything!"
"Wow. Defensive. Some things don't change."
"If you weren't already dead..."
Bobby chuckled. "Yeah, that's a good one. You're a funny man, Bosco."
Bosco's eyes narrowed. "Leave me the hell alone, Bobby."
"Sorry. Can't."
"Just...just tell the 'Big Guy' that you got here too late." Bosco went about searching for his gun.
"Are you lookin' for this?" he asked, holding the gun up.
"Gimme the gun."
"Okay." He waved his hand over it, melting the bullets inside the gun before floating it back over to the officer.
He quickly grabbed the gun, and once again raised it, prepared to take his life.
Bobby folded his arms across his chest, amused.
Bosco pulled back on the trigger, resulting in a mere 'click'. He squeezed the trigger a few more times.
He yawned, covering his mouth as he looked out over the water, bored.
"I hate you," he yelled as he threw the gun in Bobby's direction.
"Of course you do." He shook his head. "Can we get started now?"
"I need to fix this, Bobby! Don't you get that? Just leave me alone, and let me fix it." His voice was near desperate.
"And you think killin' yourself's gonna fix anything?"
"If I'm dead I can't screw anything else up!"
"Why do I always get the tough assignments?" Bobby mumbled under his breath. "You think your life is worthless? That everyone would be better off without you?"
"Yes!"
"Why don't we test that theory."
Bosco stood silently for a moment, his eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed over his chest. "How?"
"As of right now, Maurice Boscorelli never existed."
"What? What are you talkin' about?"
"Just what I said." Bobby shrugged. "No one in your life knows you. You never existed to them, at all."
"You're jokin', right?"
"No joke, Bosco." He moved toward the passenger seat of Bosco's car. "Here's the deal. They'll be able to see you, but they won't have any idea who you are because you don't exist in their lives. You're a stranger. You think everyone's better off without you? Let's take a look at their lives then."
* * *
Bosco followed Bobby's directions as the other man gave them. He had no idea where they were, and still wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but he'd given in. "So...where exactly are we?"
"We're goin' to visit your brother Mikey."
"But technically he's not my brother cause I don't exist, right?"
"Now you're catchin' on." Bobby looked out the window.
He continued driving down the long, dark road waiting for Bobby to tell him where to turn next. "We almost there?"
"Yep. Take a right up ahead and then pull off the road."
He slowed the car down to make the turn, and then pulled off to the side. Bosco looked over at Bobby. "Where are we?"
"Where your brother lives." Without further explanation, Bobby reached for the door handle, opened the car door, and stepped out of the mustang.
Bosco looked around, but it was too dark to really make anything out. He shrugged, and got out of the car.
"Follow me." He led the way to the entrance of the dark cemetery.
"Whoa. Whoa, wait a second." Bosco looked up at the sign above the gate leading into the cemetery. "I thought you said we were goin' to my brother's."
"We are." Bobby kept walking until he came to a small tombstone which read 'Michael Boscorelli. Beloved Son. March 26, 1971-July 7, 1979'. He motioned to it. "Meet Mikey."
"Look, this isn't funny, Bobby."
"Do you see me laughin'?"
He glanced at Bobby before returning his gaze to the tombstone. Bosco then dropped to his knees, and ran his fingers over the words. "He was only eight," he said softly.
"You recognize the date?" Bobby's voice was equally soft.
He swallowed hard, and nodded his head. "That was...that was the day my dad..." Bosco's voice trailed off.
"Beat the hell out of you," he finished quietly.
"I was in the hospital for days," he whispered.
Bobby nodded slightly. "Almost didn't make it."
Bosco remained silent as he stared at his little brother's tombstone.
"You didn't exist this time. So your dad went after Mikey. And Mikey was never as strong as you were. His ribcage was and his lungs punctured. The medics got there too late."
His lip trembled slightly, and he wiped at his eyes.
Bobby fell silent, watching him carefully.
Bosco pushed himself off the ground, and headed back toward the mustang. "I gotta get outta here."
"Yeah. Let's go visit your mother."
He stopped, and turned to look at Bobby. "Please tell me she's alive."
"Oh, she's alive." He nodded. Barely, he thought.
Breathing a sigh of relief he walked over to the car.
* * *
"This is the place," Bobby told him as Bosco pulled his car to a stop in front of St. John's Institution for Better Mental Health.
"My mother...is -here-?"
"Yep. Room number 22, second floor."
Bosco shook his head. "No."
"Don't believe me? Let's go see her." Bobby climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him.
He sat in the car for a moment staring out the window toward the entrance of the facility. "No way," he whispered. Bosco got out of the car. "Bobby, you're wrong. There's no way my mother's here."
"You'd be amazed what seeing your only child murdered by your husband can do to your mind."
"I don't wanna see her."
Bobby stopped and turned to face him. "You're the one who wanted to see what your friends and family's lives would be like without you. This is it, Bosco."
"But this isn't right." He shook his head. "Just because I was gonna..."
"Kill yourself?"
He nodded his head.
"You think that wouldn't make your mother insane?"
"They're all better off without me," he said softly. "At least now they are."
"Oh, really?" Bobby shook his head. "You've got a lot to learn. You think this is all about how you feel? How your death effects you? You're wrong. It effects -every- person in your life. You think you haven't done anything good? Your brother would have died if he'd been the one to take the beatin' you took that night. And your mother's locked away in an institution so doped up on anti-psychotics and anti-depressants that half the time she can't make it out of bed just to go to the bathroom."
Bosco flinched at his words, and looked down at the ground.
"If you didn't exist, every single person you've ever helped as a human being, or as a police officer...every single one of their lives would be completely different."
He let out a breath, and ran his hand through his hair before walking around the car to meet Bobby on the other side.
"Do you wanna see your mother? Or not?" His voice was soft.
"Not like this," he whispered.
Bobby nodded. "Why don't we take a trip to the 55th precinct?"
* * *
Bosco pulled up in front of the precinct to find someone parked in his usual spot. He didn't dare voice that thought though because he knew Bobby would just remind him that he didn't exist in this life. After finding a spot he turned the car off, and glanced at Bobby.
"Looks the same from the outside, doesn't it?" Bobby remarked before he got out of Bosco's mustang.
He nodded his head as he got out of the car. "Yeah, I obviously didn't have much to do with the building's construction."
He glanced at Bosco, an amused grin on his face. "Very cute."
"So, what's in store for me here?"
"Let's go in and find out." He led the way up to the entrance of the police station, pulling the door open and stepping inside.
He followed Bobby into the precinct, and smiled softly at the faces he recognized. It was good to know that even without him some people were still living the lives that he knew.
"The people on your shift are just about to leave. Stand here and you can see some of them."
Bosco nodded his head, eager to see his friends, and know that everything was okay with them. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited. A few minutes later he glanced at the clock on the wall then over at Bobby. "You sure they were workin' today?"
"Everyone that's on that shift."
His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Yeah, but...none of my...friends were here," he said softly.
"Which friends?"
"Well, Davis and Sully." He paused. "Faith."
"Of course they're not here. Davis and Sully both died a year and a half ago."
"What?!"
"Remember that shootout between the street gang and the Russian mobsters?"
"Like I could forget that."
"You're the one who drew the line of fire from the outside away from that diner. You weren't there this time. Sully and Davis both died that day."
Bosco slumped down onto a nearby bench, and leaned his head back against the wall.
Bobby sat down next to him silently.
"They're dead," he asked in a whisper.
"Yes," he said quietly.
He swallowed hard, and very slowly rolled his head to the side to look at Bobby. "What about Faith?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
He glanced down at his watch. "Starting her shift right about now, I expect."
Bosco looked around the lobby of the station. "So, where is she?"
Bobby looked at him. "Oh. Not here. She doesn't work here."
"What?" He gave him a confused look. "Well...where does she work?"
He stood up. "Let's go and you can see for yourself."
With a heavy sigh Bosco pushed himself off the bench, and slowly shuffled his feet as he followed Bobby back out to the car. After everything he'd already found out tonight he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know any more.
* * *
"Here we are." Bobby gazed out the window of the mustang and at the neon sign on the building flashing "Girls, girls, girls."
He stared at the building, his face pale. "Now -this- is a joke right?"
"Unfortunately no. Come on." He reached for the door handle.
Bosco grabbed Bobby's arm. "She works here? -Faith-?"
He turned to look at Bosco. "Yeah. Faith works here."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why?"
"I mean, what happened? Why isn't she a cop?"
"Oh, she went through the academy. Aced every exam."
"But that doesn't make any sense."
"It makes perfect sense. She's a very intelligent woman."
"No." He shook his head. "I mean it doesn't make any sense that she ended up working here if she aced everything."
"Oh, she didn't ace -everything-. Just all the written exams. All the physical ones too. But...let's just say she couldn't hit a target to save her life."
He nodded his head, understanding why Faith wasn't a cop. "I wasn't there to help," he said softly.
"You taught her to shoot."
"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain how she ended up here." Bosco pointed toward the building.
"She needed the money. She had kids. Well, one now."
"One?" His eyes widened. "No."
He nodded slightly. "Her daughter Emily? Died around last Christmas. Drug OD."
"I gotta go talk to her." Bosco reached for the handle, and pushed his door open.
"Yeah. Let's go." Bobby climbed out of his side of the car as well.
Bosco paused outside of the entrance to the club, and took a deep breath as he tried to prepare himself.
"Come on." He pulled the door open and stepped inside.
He followed Bobby inside, and scanned the club for his best friend. Relief washed over him when he spotted Faith carrying a tray of drinks, and not on stage dancing. "At least she's a waitress," he said softly.
Bobby was quiet for a moment. "Don't be so relieved yet." He nodded toward Faith, indicating the short black skirt and low cut shirt she was wearing, dressed like all the other waitresses in the club. "Believe me when I say she gets just as much attention as the ones on stage."
"Yeah, but at least she's not strippin'."
Unaware that she was being watched from across the room, she began setting the drinks down on the table that the men were gathered around. The man closest to her slid his hand up and rested it on her backside. Her body tensed immediately but she didn't move. "Can I get you guys anything else?"
He grinned at her, giving her backside a squeeze. "I can think of something."
"Sorry, I'm not on the menu."
"Faith." A man from behind the bar shot her a warning glare, his arms folded across his chest. "You know our policy. The customer is always right."
The customer's grin widened, and he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a fifty dollar bill, and held it up for Faith to see.
She closed her eyes, flinching slightly as he tucked it into her bra.
"You interest me a whole lot more than those girls on stage."
She didn't try to pull away as he pulled her onto his lap. Swallowing hard as his hands came to rest on her thighs.
Bosco's jaw was clenched, and he started to make his way over to the table.
Bobby didn't try to stop him.
"Hey Faith," he called her name as he got closer to the table.
She looked up, startled and saw a man walking toward her. She glanced around, then back at him uncertainly, sure he was talking to someone else. She flinched as the other man slid his hand a little higher up her thigh.
Bosco reached for Faith's arm. "Come on, Faith," he said softly.
She stared at him. "Who the hell are you?"
"What?" His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "It's me. Bosco."
"I think you're mistakin' me for someone else."
He shook his head. "Faith Yokas. Mother of Charlie and Emi--"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you want from me?"
"I just..." He looked down at the customer who wasn't real happy with the interruption. "You're better than this."
"I don't know who you are, but this is my job." Her voice was cold.
"Look, let's go talk," he said softly.
"No way," the guy said angrily, pulling her back against him. "I already paid the bitch. You wait your fuckin' turn."
"Don't talk about her like that! She's not a piece of meat you pervert!"
"I paid her and now it's her turn." He slid one hand up to cup her breast and she bit down on her tongue, her gaze dropping to the floor in humiliation.
"You son of a bitch!" Bosco grabbed the man's wrist, and bent his arm back.
"FAITH! What the -hell- is going on?" Her boss demanded, storming over to her.
Bosco looked up at the man, his eyes full of anger. "I think your customer was gettin' a little carried away."
"And who the hell are you? Her bodyguard?" He glared back, then turned his wrath on Faith. "Ever since you started here you've done nothing but cause problems. You think you're too good to perform the way the other girls do?" He demanded, motioning to a table where one of the other waitresses was giving a man a lap dance. "This is what you got hired for. And unless you want me to fire you--"
Her eyes widened. "No, I need this job!"
Bosco reached into his pocket hoping to come up with some money. "Uh..." He didn't remember having that much money in his pocket earlier that day, but he was happy to see it there now. He held it out to Faith. "I'd like a uh..."
Her boss looked at the hundred dollar bill that Bosco was holding out. "She'll do whatever you want. There's a room in back." He nodded toward a door.
Nodding his head Bosco reached for Faith's hand.
She flinched when he touched her, but she allowed him to lead her to the back, swallowing hard as he pushed open the door. Silently she dug a key out of her apron and unlocked one of the rooms. She stepped inside, flipped on the light, feeling sick at the sight of the bed.
He followed her into the room. "Do you have to come back here often," he asked quietly.
"Depends on the night," she answered distantly. She closed the door, doing her best to push aside her feelings of revulsion. "So what is it that you want?" She locked the door, her hand trembling slightly. "If you're expecting more than one thing, it's gonna cost ya more than a hundred." Her voice was emotionless, minus a slight tremor to it.
Bosco moved over to the bed, and sat down. He scooted back so he was leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. "I just wanna talk."
She gave a short, humorless laugh. "Right. What do you think? I was born yesterday?"
He shook his head. "Really. I just wanna talk. I saw you out there...I know you don't wanna do any of this."
"It doesn't matter what I want. You paid. What do -you- want? Wait. Let me guess. You look like you might be a blowjob kinda guy."
His eyes were sad as he gazed at her. "You've really changed," he whispered.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
He shook his head. "Nevermind. You won't believe me anyway."
"Look, would you just tell me what you want? A hundred dollars is great and all but I usually can make around 500 or 600 a night, so...can we get this over with so I can get back to makin' money?" Her eyes were lifeless. Her back resting against the wall as she stood as far away as possible from him.
"You're better than this, Faith."
"You don't know the first thing about me."
"I remember you from the academy. I remember how determined you were."
She stared at him. "What?"
"It's just...I know you, Faith. You may not know me, but I know you." He paused. "I know the person you should be."
Her eyes were narrowed. "I don't know what kind of game you're playin'..."
"It's no game. I promise." Bosco wiped his hands on his jeans nervously, feeling that talking was getting him nowhere.
"Please just tell me what you want from me." Her voice defeated.
"You deserve better than this," he said softly. "I want you to find another job."
"Right. So what, I'm just supposed to quit because some guy I've never seen before in my life wants to walk in and play knight in shining armor?"
"Does Charlie know what you do?"
There was a flash of fear in her eyes. "How the hell do you know my son?"
He sighed. "I told you, I know you from the academy."
Faith shook her head. "No. I remember everyone from the Academy. You aren't one of them."
"I don't really know how to explain this," he told her softly.
She glanced at the door out of the corner of her eye, inching toward it very slowly. Afraid she was dealing with a truly psychotic person.
"Why don't you sit down, and I'll try to fill you in?"
"You know, maybe some other time, okay? I should really get back to work." She swallowed hard, her body trembling as she slowly reached for the door handle.
Feeling defeated he reached into his pocket again figuring the last time he needed money he'd found it. He pulled out a wad of large bills, and held it out to her. "Faith, at least take this," he said softly. "Tell your boss you're sick, and go home."
She stared at him, tears forming in her eyes as she leaned against the door silently.
"Do yourself a favor, and think about tryin' to be a cop again," he whispered.
"I can't." Her voice was barely audible.
"Why not?"
She dropped her gaze to the floor. "You wouldn't understand."
He scooted to the edge of the bed. "Try me."
She swallowed hard, closed her eyes. "You asked if my son knew what I did? I do this -for- my son."
"Whaddya mean?"
"What other job's gonna pay me -half- as much as this one? I got pills to pay, I gotta feed my kid, make sure he has clothes. I wanna better than this life for him." She hesitated, stopping herself there even though there was a lot more to it.
He nodded his head. "You could provide for him without..." He motioned toward the bed. "Without doin' this."
"Not enough to--" She cut herself off.
"Tell me," he whispered.
"I can't."
"Sure you can, Faith. You don't know me. Who'm I gonna tell?"
"Anyone. It could get me killed." Her voice was full of fear.
He stood up, and walked over to her. "What's goin' on," he asked softly. "Let me help you."
She shrunk back away from him. "Did he send you?" she whispered, her face growing pale as she realized how badly she may have messed up by saying as much as she had.
"Who? Did who send me?" He shook his head in confusion.
Faith trembled. "Please. Don't hurt my son. Do whatever you want to me, just don't hurt my son." Her voice was barely audible.
"Shhh. It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you, Faith. I just wanna help."
She closed her eyes, a sob catching in her throat as she slid down to the floor, her back against the wall.
Bosco crouched down, and gazed at her sadly. "Are you in trouble?" he asked quietly.
She nodded wordlessly, wrapping her arms around herself.
"I can help you," he whispered.
"How?" she whispered back.
"I can make it go away...whatever it is."
"Yeah. Right." She wiped a tear from her cheek.
"I'm serious."
"What? Are you like some kinda fairy godfather? Gonna make all this crap go away with the flick of a magic wand?"
"Something like that," he told her softly. "I told you earlier you wouldn't believe me."
Faith leaned her head back against the door, letting out a breath. "I never pictured this is how my life would be."
"What'd you picture?"
"I wanted to go to college. Get a good job. I wanted to be a police officer. Thought I could help people, you know?" Another tear slid down her cheek. "And my daughter.." Her voice broke and she closed her eyes tightly, her chest tight.
"I'm really sorry about Emily," he whispered as his eyes welled up with tears.
"She was so beautiful." She didn't even think about what he'd said. A tear slid out from beneath her eyelids. "And she was so smart. She was gonna be a doctor one day."
Bosco took her hand, and placed the wad of money in it. "I'm gonna help you," he told her softly.
"Thanks for the offer, but...this barely scratches the surface of what I owe."
"How much do you owe?"
A bitter smile appeared on her lips. "About three million dollars."
His eyebrows furrowed.
"My ex had a problem with gambling and drinking. He got involved with this Russian mobster who gave him a loan. Then he abandoned me and the kids and skipped town with what money we did have and the bitch cop he was bangin' on the side."
He closed his eyes, and let out a breath. "Tell ya what. Take this money, and tell the boss you're sick." Bosco paused for a moment, and bit his lip. "And when you wake up tomorrow everything'll be okay."
Faith stared at him, her eyes unreadable. "If I didn't know any better, I'd almost believe you." Her voice was very soft.
"Believe me," he whispered.
Another tear slid down her cheek. "Who are you?" she whispered back.
He gave her a warm smile. "My name's Maurice Boscorelli," he told her softly as he brushed the tear off her cheek. "And if I hadn't screwed up really bad I'd be your best friend."
She wasn't sure where it came from, but she had the urge to smile at him, faint as it was. "You're crazy, you know that?"
"Yeah." He nodded his head. "I'm startin' to think that too."
A soft chuckle escaped her lips.
He leaned forward, and kissed her forehead. "Just trust me, okay? And I'll see you tomorrow."
Her eyebrows furrowed. "You will?"
Bosco nodded his head. "Yeah. I'll come check on you."
"Promise?" she whispered.
"I promise."
Faith gazed at him for a moment, then kissed his lips softly before she stood up. "I don't take leaps of faith very often."
"I think this one's in your best interest," he told her softly.
She reached her hand out to help him up.
Smiling he slid his hand into hers, and allowed her to help him to his feet. "I'll see you tomorrow, Faith."
"I'm holdin' you to that, Maurice Boscorelli." She gazed at him a moment longer before turning and leaving the room.
He leaned against the wall for a few moments, then took a deep breath and headed back into the club. "Bobby!"
"Geez, Bosco. You don't have to yell. I'm right here." He appeared seemingly from out of nowhere.
"Get me the hell outta here."
"Who do you wanna go see now?"
"I wanna go back!"
"Back to the life where you think the people around you are better off without you?"
"Don't get cute with me. Just take me back."
"You're sure?" Bobby gazed at him seriously. "You wanna go back? You don't wanna start over again the way things are now?"
He shook his head. "Bobby, I -need- to go back."
"Back we go then." He snapped his fingers and they disappeared.
* * *
Bosco blinked a few times, and took in his surroundings. He was back underneath the bridge, sitting on the hood of his mustang.
Bobby gazed at him from a few feet away. "So you all settled then? You're past this crazy idea of killin' yourself?"
He swallowed hard, and nodded his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."
"Good. And you're goin' to see her, right?"
"I promised," he whispered.
He smiled softly. "Just remember...however bad you think her life is now. It could always be a lot worse."
Bosco ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks for makin' that clear."
"That's my job now." Bobby grinned. "I'm pretty good at it, too."
"Yeah, you're not bad," Bosco told him with a smirk.
He shook his head. "Do me a favor?"
"Absolutely."
"Tell Kim and Joey I said merry Christmas."
"Can't you get the Big Guy to let you tell them yourself?"
"Unfortunately it doesn't work that way. You gotta earn your wings before you can visit whoever you want."
"I'll make sure to tell them."
"Thanks. Take care, Bosco." Without another word, Bobby was gone.
Bosco exhaled, and slowly slid off the hood of his car. He moved around to the driver's side of the vehicle and climbed inside. After starting the car he looked at his watch. It was early Christmas morning, but he figured Charlie would have his parents and sister out of bed in another hour or so. When the mustang was warmed and ready to go he headed for his apartment to shower, change, and build up his nerve before appearing on the Yokas doorstep.
* * *
Faith sat curled up on the sofa alone, staring blankly out the window at the lightly falling snow. It was Christmas morning and she couldn't have had less enthusiasm. The apartment was completely silent. The last couple of Christmas's, Charlie and Emily had been sleeping in a little later than they used to, and she could still hear Fred snoring from down the hallway. She sighed softly and let her eyes drift shut.
Nothing about the day seemed right. She used to look forward to the morning when the kids would run into her and Fred's room, jumping and bouncing excitedly on the bed, begging to open their gifts. Then later in the day, the kids would settle down and play with their toys and gifts and Bosco would come over and have a drink or dinner with her and Fred. That wasn't going to happen this year. Probably any other year either. Tears pricked at her eyes.
* * *
Bosco stood outside Faith's door, dressed in a gray sweater and his best pair of jeans. He bit his lip, and shifted his weight nervously. He'd been standing outside her apartment for at least five minutes now, and hadn't been able to get himself to knock. He shifted the box he held under his arm, took a deep breath, and quickly knocked on the door.
* * *
She opened her eyes and her gaze shifted to the door, her eyebrows furrowing. It wasn't even seven in the morning. She wondered who would be knocking at that hour. She started to shift off the sofa, reaching for her chair when she heard Fred's footsteps coming down the hall.
"Morning," Fred mumbled through a yawn.
"Someone's at the door," she told him, still reaching for her wheelchair.
"You just stay there. I'll get the door."
She sighed softly, folding her hands in her lap.
Bosco ran his hand through his hair, and looked around the hallway as he waited for someone to answer the door.
Fred unlocked the door and pulled it open, scowling immediately. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I uh...I just wanted to stop by," he said softly.
"You stopped. Now go."
Faith's eyebrows furrowed and she leaned forward to try and see who was at the door. "Fred? Who is it?"
He swallowed hard when he heard her voice. "Fred just let me talk to her. Just for a minute."
"It's Christmas. Don't ruin this day for us. She doesn't wanna see you." His voice was cold as he completely ignored his wife.
"I'm not here to ruin anything, Fred."
"You already ruined my good mood."
"Fred? Is that Bosco?" There was a hint of disbelief to her tone.
"I won't stay long." He heard Faith's voice again, and lifted up on his tiptoes to try and see past Fred.
"You won't stay at all. Don't worry, babe. I'll get rid of him."
"Fred, wait, I wanna--"
He started to close the door and there was a loud crash from behind him, and Faith whimpered softly in pain as she lay on the floor.
Bosco's eyes widened, and he moved forward. "Faith?"
She swallowed hard, pressing a hand to her neck as she winced.
He put the box he was carrying down on the table by the door. "Faith, are you okay?"
She nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah, I just...need a minute."
Fred walked over to her. "Here. Let me help you."
She pushed his hands away in embarrassment. "I said give me a minute."
Bosco stood a couple feet inside the door, on the edge of the living room.
After a moment, she drew in a breath before putting her weight on her hands and scooting her body back so she was leaned against the couch, closing her eyes, the pain still throbbing in her neck.
His emotions started to swirl inside of him as he watched Faith. He wanted to say something to her, but he knew it was best for him to just act like he wasn't there right now.
She felt his eyes on her. Both of their gazes were focused on her. "Bosco. Come on in. Close the door." Her voice was soft.
Bosco nodded his head, though he was a little caught off guard by her words. He moved to close the door, and then picked up the box he'd set on the table. "The bakery was open, so I uh...stopped. Got those cinnamon rolls you guys like."
"Thanks," she said softly.
Fred simply glared at him.
He tried to ignore Fred as he looked around the apartment, noticing how the furniture had been rearranged.
"Sit down."
Bosco slowly moved over to sit in the chair that was next to the sofa. He set the box of cinnamon rolls on the coffee table.
Faith drew in a breath and reached behind her, pressing her hands into the cushions as she strained to lift herself up on the sofa.
He bit his lip as he watched her, and shot a quick glance at Fred. He'd never seen her like this, and since they hadn't talked in a long time he had no idea what she was physically capable of. But he knew with Faith it was sometimes better to let her struggle than to offer to do something for her.
Apparently even after fifteen years of marriage, Fred still didn't quite grasp that concept. He leaned down to pick her up.
"I can do it myself," she said sharply, piercing him with a look that made him back off. A moment later she managed to hoist herself up onto the couch, her arms aching from the strain, and her neck aching from the fall. She leaned against the back of the sofa, closing her eyes for a moment tiredly.
"Need anything," Bosco asked softly.
Faith shook her head slowly, then opened her eyes to look at him, her expression unreadable.
"Okay, crisis over. Now get out," Fred commanded, losing his patience.
Bosco quickly turned to look at Fred. "Can you just give me a minute?"
"Give you a minute." He shook his head in disgust. "How many minutes have I given you with my wife in the past? And look where it landed her!" He kicked the side of the wheelchair lightly.
His shoulders slumped forward slightly. "I never meant for any of this to happen."
"Fred, give us a minute."
"Are you kiddin' me, Faith? You're gonna feel sorry for this jackass? Why, cause it's Christmas and he doesn't have his own family?"
She turned her head to glare at him. "I said give us a minute."
Fred returned the glare, then headed for the door. "I'll give you more than a minute." Without another word, he grabbed his coat, put his shoes on and left.
Bosco let out a breath. "I didn't mean to ruin your morning," he said softly.
"Don't worry about it. He's just pissed. He'll get over it."
He nodded his head, and looked around the room again. His leg bounced up and down from nervousness.
She gazed at him. "What brings you by?" Her voice was soft.
"Well uh...some stuff happened last night, and I just...needed to see you."
"Are you okay?"
"Better than last night," he told her, a sad smile on his face.
She gazed at him. "What happened last night?"
He took a deep breath, and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees as he debated whether or not to tell her.
"What is it, Boz?" she asked softly.
"I was gonna eat my gun," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Faith felt all the air leave her lungs, and her face drained of all color. "You...what?" she whispered.
He nodded his head slowly, but didn't look at her. "I went to church last night like I always do on Christmas Eve, and then somethin' just kinda happened." He paused. "Next thing I know..."
"Oh, God." Her eyes filled with tears and her face crumpled as she closed her eyes tightly.
Bosco turned to look at her. "Sorry. I shouldn't have told you. I didn't wanna upset you today."
She drew in a breath, unable to look at him, deeply shaken by his words.
"I should probably go," he whispered as he started to stand up.
"No--don't just leave."
He sat back down, not really wanting to leave anyway seeing as he hadn't seen or talked to her in such a long time.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, still unable to look at him.
"It's not your fault." He leaned back in the chair, and let out a breath. "I was thinkin' that...if I wasn't around everything would be okay."
"That is my fault." Her words were strained.
He shook his head. "No Faith, that's not your fault."
She buried her face in her hands, her body trembling. She'd pushed him so far away, made him feel so guilty about something that hadn't been his fault that he'd almost killed himself. She felt sick.
Bosco slowly slid out of the chair, and knelt on the floor in front of her. He gazed at her sadly, unsure of what to do.
"I never wanted that. Never. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Boz." Her voice was broken.
"Shhh. It's okay." He reached out, and put a hand on her arm.
She unburied her face from her hands and wrapped her arms around his neck, a soft sob escaping her lips. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," he whispered as he carefully slid his arms around her waist. "I thought I was gonna make things better...but I found out it wasn't gonna help."
She pressed her face against his shoulder, closing her eyes tightly. "Thank God you didn't go through with it. Boz, if you had..." She couldn't finish, drawing in a shuddering breath.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he whispered.
"I know." She slid herself closer to the edge of the sofa best she could, keeping her arms around him.
"I just had to come over today," he told her softly. "I couldn't stay away any longer."
Faith opened her eyes and pulled away just a little to look at him, sadness and tears still in her eyes. "Swear to God right here you won't ever do anything like that again. Ever."
He nodded his head, his lip trembling slightly as he gazed at her. "I swear, Faith."
A tear slid down her cheek and she touched his face as they gazed at each other silently.
"I learned my lesson last night," he informed her quietly.
"What do you mean?" she asked softly.
"I had a little help figuring out that taking my life wasn't going to make anything better for the people around me."
"Help? From who?"
"You're gonna think I'm nuts."
"Wouldn't be the first time," she said lightly.
A small smiled tugged at his lips. "Bobby," he whispered.
She stared at him for a moment. "Bobby? Bobby Caffey?"
"Yeah, crazy, huh?"
Faith was silent. "You mean...you saw him?"
"Saw him. Talked to him. Drove around in my car with him."
"Drove around in your car with him?"
Bosco nodded his head. "Told ya you were gonna think I'm nuts."
"No. I don't think you're nuts."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't." She gazed at him. "So...how did Bobby help you? What did he say?"
"Well, he showed up just before I was gonna--" He shook his head. "He told me how I mattered, and how me not being around would affect people. Then he...well we went to some places, and I learned what life woulda been like for certain people if I'd never existed," he told her softly.
Faith leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "You do matter, Boz. God, you matter." She closed her eyes as she hugged him again.
"I know that now," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry you felt like you didn't."
He gently rubbed her back as they held each other. "And I'm sorry for everything."
"It's not your fault," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Hey Faith?"
"Yeah?"
"Whenever you start feelin' down about your life...just remember that things could be a lot worse." He paused, and pulled away from her a little. "I know it may not seem like it, but..."
She gazed at him silently, wondering what exactly had happened the night before.
He smiled softly. "It's good to see you."
A soft smile touched her lips and she rested her hand against his cheek, not looking away. "It's good to see you too, Boz."