Third Watch, 12 Days of Christmas: Day 10: Spirits of Christmas(1/1)
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas series: Fic # 10: Spirits of Christmas
Authors: NYPDBosco and X_tremeroswellian
Emails: mauriceboscorelli@yahoo.com and faithboscorelli1@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not ours.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Everything thus far from fifth season.
Summary: The ghosts of Christmas past, present and future pay a visit to Bosco on Christmas Eve.
Author's Note: This is based off Charles Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol.' Or…actually the Disney version of the book since neither of us has you know, read the book.
Spirits of Christmas
"Son of a bitch! Do you realize how much paperwork this is gonna be?!" Bosco threw his arms in the air as he headed back over to the squad car. "The jag-off probably had too much eggnog!" He pointed toward the abandoned car that had t-boned two parked cars. "When I catch his ass..."
Faith glanced over at him. "He's probably miles away by now."
"No, he's probably down the street at the bar tyin' one on."
"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the squad car today," she mumbled under her breath as he snapped at her.
He yanked open the car door, and leaned inside to get his notepad. "We shoulda let Sully and Davis take this one."
She rolled her eyes. He'd said that about -every- call they'd had all evening and frankly she was getting a little sick of hearing it. Still, it was Christmas Eve and she didn't want to get into a fight with him if she told him to shut his mouth.
"You realize we're gonna be doin' paperwork the rest of the shift?"
"Yes, I realize that." Her voice was calm.
Bosco sighed heavily, and moved to the rear of the first vehicle to write down the license plate number. "Well...at least there weren't any injuries," he mumbled. "Cause you know what injuries mean."
"More paperwork?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
He turned to look at her. "That's exactly right."
Faith rolled her eyes again, not bothering to hide it this time. "Not to mention, you know, the -injuries-."
Bosco stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, and moving to write down the plate of one of the other cars.
She sighed softly, hoping that the rest of the shift went by much faster than it had been because she wasn't sure she could handle his bad mood much longer.
* * *
He threw his pen into the garbage can beside the desk. "Is it too much to ask for a pen that works?"
Faith jumped, startled at the unexpected sound of his angry voice. "Geez, Boz. Would you relax?"
"Relax? This has been the night from hell, and you want me to relax?"
"It's Christmas Eve. Nobody died on our watch. I'd say we had a decent night."
"Christmas Eve. Big frickin' deal." He opened the drawer, and searched for another pen.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot your name was Scrooge," she muttered, shaking her head as she went back to typing information into the computer.
"Yeah, that's right. Scrooge Boscorelli. Screw this whole Christmas cheer thing."
"You know, if you'd stop runnin' your mouth you'd probably get that done a lot faster."
Bosco slowly turned toward her. "Excuse me?"
"All you been doin' this whole shift is complainin', one thing after another. You know, just because -you- hate this holiday doesn't mean you gotta ruin it for me."
"Who said I was tryin' to ruin it for you?"
"Oh, no, that's your way of making me -love- Christmas."
He sighed, but didn't apologize as he turned back to work on the remainder of the paperwork.
She tried to ignore her feelings of annoyance as she typed. It was nearly an hour later before she finally finished and she stood up, stretching her arms over her head tiredly. She was more than ready to go home.
Bosco looked up at her. "You done?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Uh..." He glanced down. "Yeah...well almost."
She sat down on the desk, leaning back on her hands. "I'm sorry I snapped before." She really didn't want to fight with him at Christmas.
He took a deep breath before looking up at her again. "I've kinda been a jerk all day, huh?"
A small smile tugged at her lips. "Kinda."
"This whole Christmas thing...it just kinda...gets to me ya know?"
"I know." Her voice was softer.
"Well, you should probably get goin'. You still gotta play Santa."
"I can wait. You're almost done."
Bosco nodded his head, and picked up his pen. "You need a ride?"
"Yeah. That'd be nice. Thanks."
"Go 'head and go change." He pulled his chair a little closer to the desk, and continued working. Christmas wasn't his favorite holiday. In fact for the most part he hated it. He hated feeling obligated to buy "friends" gifts. He hated having to be cheerful about the holidays. He'd been cheerful enough as a kid, and every year his hopes were dashed by his father. Christmas didn't hold a very special place in his heart, but Faith had been right. He didn't need to ruin it for her.
Faith gazed at him for a moment, then touched his shoulder lightly before leaving the room. Wishing he wouldn't make himself miserable during the holidays.
* * *
Faith gazed out the passenger window of Bosco's mustang as he shifted it into park in front of her apartment building. She turned her head to look at him. "Why don't you come over in the morning? Spend the day with us?"
"You're kidding, right," he asked softly.
"No, not at all."
"You do remember that you called me Scrooge earlier?"
She smirked. "Cause that's how you were actin' earlier."
"Faith, I may not be the guy you want around on Christmas," he informed her.
She gazed at him for a moment. "Look, you're my best friend, Boz. You don't have to come, but...I'd like it if you did."
He looked out the front windshield, then turned to look at Faith. "Why don't you call me after the kids are up and opened their presents?"
"Sure. I can do that."
Bosco nodded his head. "So...I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Have a good night, Boz." She leaned over and kissed his cheek gently before climbing out of the car.
He reached up, and touched his cheek as he watched to make sure she got inside the building safely.
* * *
He hopped out of bed, a wide grin on his face as he moved over to the other side of the room in order to wake up his younger brother. "Mikey." He shook his shoulder. "Michael come on, it's Christmas."
Mikey lifted his head from the pillow. "Hmm?"
"Get up. It's Christmas!"
"It's like 3 a.m.," he grumbled, closing his eyes again.
"No it's not." He chuckled softly, unwilling to let his little brother ruin the excitement of Christmas morning. "It's almost 7."
"Are Ma and Pop up?"
Maurice shrugged. "I don't know. Let's just go look at the tree."
Mikey groaned again as he sat up. "Fine. Fine."
"Yes!" Maurice grabbed his little brother's hand, and hauled him toward the living room.
"Mo, slow down," he complained.
"You're usually more excited than I am. What's your deal?"
"I'm tired."
"I bet you won't be so tired if Santa brought you that bike you've been talkin' about forever."
Mikey grinned. "You think he did?" There was a hint of excitement to his voice.
"Maybe." He smiled at his little brother as they got closer to the living room, his excitement mounting.
Mikey's mouth dropped open as they entered the living room. The tree was lying on its side, several of the bulbs broken on the floor.
"Stay here," he whispered to his brother as he stepped a little farther into the room.
He bit his lip as he watched Maurice.
He tiptoed through the room taking note of the overturned tree, and the decorations that were scattered throughout the room. The stockings that had been hanging on the wall had been ripped down, and there was no sign of any presents. His lip trembled, and tears formed in his eyes as he looked around the room. His eyes settled on his father who was passed out on the sofa, bottle of whiskey in hand. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he walked back to where Mikey was standing. "Let's go back to our room."
Mikey nodded silently, his own eyes welling with tears as his brother cried. He took his hand, holding onto it tightly.
"I'm sorry, Michael."
Bosco woke with a start, and sat straight up in bed. He wiped at his eyes remembering the dream he'd just woken from, and feeling the lingering sadness.
"Bad dream?"
"What the..." He quickly scooted to the other side of the bed, his eyes wide.
Glen Hobart folded his arms across his chest. "Still wallowing in self pity, I see."
He closed his eyes tight, and shook his head. There was no way Hobart was standing in his bedroom because Glen Hobart was dead.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You -are- a ghost!"
"Oh. Yeah. Sometimes I forget." He shook his head. "I'm still new to this."
Bosco quickly got out of bed, and grabbed his jeans that were on the floor. "I gotta get outta here. There is -no- way you're here."
"Actually, I am. I was sent here."
He paused, and looked over at him. "And why exactly where you sent here? Is that my Christmas gift? Having you torture my mind once again? Cause ya know...I was just gettin' back on track."
"You really are paranoid, aren't you, Boscorelli?"
"Give me one reason after -everything- I've been through why I -shouldn't- be paranoid," he shot back.
"Because it's the season of miracles?"
"Yeah, and it'll be a miracle if I don't wind up in a mental institution after seeing you tonight." He zipped up his jeans. "Just leave me alone, Glen."
"Can't. I gotta job to do. You're comin' with me."
"What," he chuckled. "Takin' me down with you once wasn't enough?"
He rolled his eyes. "You really are a Scrooge."
"Is going with you the only way to get rid of you?"
"Well, first of all you're going with me whether you like it or not. It's not a choice. Secondly, yes."
"Fine." He shook his head in disgust. "Just let me get dressed."
"Hurry up. You're not the only person I gotta visit tonight."
"Whatever," he mumbled as he went to his dresser to find some socks.
The moment Bosco was dressed, Hobart looked at him. "You ready?"
"You know, you're just as pushy dead as you were when you were alive."
"I'll take that as a yes." He snapped his fingers and they both disappeared from the room.
* * *
Bosco found himself standing in the corner of the living room of the apartment he'd grown up in. He turned to look at Hobart. "What the hell is going on?"
"We're visiting a Christmas from your past," Hobart informed him.
He shook his head. "I already did that once tonight."
"Not the same Christmas." He nodded toward the two little boys in the living room sitting impatiently by the tree. A much younger Rose Boscorelli entered the room, wearing a pretty green sweater with a Christmas tree on it.
"Merry Christmas!" she said cheerfully.
"Merry Christmas, Ma," Mikey hopped up off the floor, and went over to hug his mother.
Hobart leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold silently.
"Merry Christmas, Maurice," she said, giving him a soft smile.
He smiled up at his mother. "Merry Christmas."
Bosco glanced over at Glen, and swallowed hard before turning back to the scene in the living room.
Rose's face was lit up with contentment and happiness as she watched her sons unwrap package after package. It had been a year since she and their father had gotten divorced and it was their first Christmas without him. So far things were going much more smoothly. They were able to relax and enjoy it, not have to be fearful that something one of them said or did would send the man of the house into a fit of rage that would ruin the rest of the holiday.
"This was a really good day," Bosco said softly, watching as his mother moved into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a brand new bicycle for Mikey.
"Not all of your Christmas holidays have been bad ones, Boscorelli."
"Yeah, but the majority..."
"Majority smority. You dwell too much on the bad things. Not everything in your life was bad. Your mother loves you and your brother worships you. Why don't you try focusing on that for once?"
Bosco turned to glare at him. "Are you here to tell me I'm a jerk?! Cause I hear that enough as it is!"
"No, I'm here to tell you to stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself. You might actually start to like your life."
"Why do you even care?"
"Because I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past, of course."
He looked back toward the scene in the living room, and sighed when he saw how happy the three of them had been that Christmas. "Okay, so not -every- Christmas was bad. I get that. Now...can I go back to sleep?"
Hobart shook his head. "Why do I even try?" He snapped his fingers and they vanished from the apartment.
* * *
Bosco's body jerked, and his eyes opened. He lifted his head off of his pillow, and looked around his dark bedroom. "What the hell kinda dream was that," he wondered aloud. He shook his head, and raked his hand through his hair before laying his head back down.
"Who said it was a dream?"
He jumped, startled by the vaguely familiar voice. Bosco placed a hand over his racing heart, and slowly turned his head toward the sound. "No way. No fuckin' way."
"Good to see you, too, Bosco," Bobby Caffey said dryly.
Bosco shook his head back and forth. "You know, I'm gonna have to start goin' to a shrink."
"Wouldn't hurt."
"Yeah, I see it now. 'So Officer Boscorelli, what seems to be the problem?'" Bosco glared at Bobby. "Oh, nothin' big it's just that...I see dead people."
Bobby chuckled. "That was a good movie."
He rolled his eyes. "So why are you here?"
"Come on, Bosco. Haven't you read anything by Charles Dickens?"
"Do you really picture me as the reading type, Caffey?"
"Point taken. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present."
Bosco groaned. "This is startin' to play out like a really bad movie."
"I think I'm offended."
"So..." He sighed. "Where are you takin' me?"
"You'll see soon enough. You ready?"
"Just let me get..." Bosco threw off the covers to find that he was dressed. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up at Bobby. "Is this for real? Did I really go back in time with Hobart?"
"Of course. This isn't some dream."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "All right...let's go."
Bobby nodded, clapped his hands, and they vanished.
* * *
Bobby had never been inside Faith Yokas' apartment before, but he found himself nodding in approval as he glanced around at all the decorations. "She's got a nice place."
"Yeah, she works hard," Bosco said softly as he glanced over at the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room.
"Obviously."
Faith walked into the room, rubbing her neck with one hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed. A moment later Fred Yokas followed her down the hall and into the living room. "You can't be serious."
"I'm sorry, Faith, but I just can't..."
"Why? Why -now-?" She shook her head. "I don't understand."
Bosco's eyes narrowed, and he glanced over at Bobby as he tried to figure out what was going on.
Fred ran his hand over his head. "It's just...I can't do this anymore Faith. We've grown apart."
She stared at him. "Is this cause I went back to work? Are you still upset with me?"
"It's not just that. It's everything."
"Like what?"
He shook his head. "I don't love you anymore," he told her softly.
Bosco's jaw was tense, and he started toward Fred.
"He can't see you," Bobby informed him.
"Yeah?! Well he's gonna feel me!"
"You...what?" Her voice was barely audible, his words stunning her.
"We've been through a lot. My heart attack. You gettin' shot." He paused. "But don't you think there's somethin' missing?"
"There wasn't for me," she whispered, her voice strained.
"Get me outta here," Bosco said softly as he watched the scene in front of him.
"Not yet," Bobby said just as softly.
"I don't wanna see this."
"Please, Fred. Whatever it is, we can work through it."
Fred shook his head. "There's somebody else."
She was so shocked she couldn't even respond. Tears in her eyes.
He took a step toward her. "I met her a couple weeks back. We really clicked."
"Is this some kind of sick joke?"
"Do you really think I'd joke about something like this? I didn't want this to happen."
Faith turned away from him, her face pale. She was so upset she was trembling.
"I swear to God, Bobby. Get me outta here."
"Yeah. Okay. You've seen enough." He clapped his hands and the room around them disappeared.
* * *
He slowly opened his eyes to find himself lying in bed once again. His heart felt heavy as he thought about what he'd just seen. He needed some answers. "Bobby! Bobby, where the hell are you?"
"Bobby's gone. You've got me now," A familiar female's voice replied.
Bosco turned to find himself face to face with Alex Taylor. "Why'd he take me to Faith's? Why'd he show me that?"
She gazed at him, her eyes sympathetic. "Because you needed to know."
He crawled out of bed, and began to pace. "I don't wanna do this anymore."
"I know you don't. I'm the last one to visit you."
He nodded his head. "So...where are you taking me," he asked softly.
"Same place you just were...only a few years in the future."
"Look, I don't need to see how miserable Faith's gonna be. Or...or how happy Fred is with someone else." He shook his head. "No way."
"There's no bargaining, Bosco. I'm showin' you what you have to see. Because what you do could make all the difference."
"So you're tellin' me I can change all this stuff?"
"Well...you can't change the past...or the present, either, really, but...the future is never certain." Alex's voice was quiet as she looked at him.
His eyes narrowed. "Why'd you guys pick me anyway?"
She smiled faintly. "Because you're the one who needed us. You and Faith, both, actually."
Bosco's shoulders slumped, and he let out a breath. "Let's get this over with," he whispered.
Alex nodded, then tapped the heels of her shoes together and they vanished.
* * *
A moment later Bosco found himself standing in the same corner of Faith's apartment. However this time, the furniture was different, and the Christmas tree was in the opposite corner.
Alex closed her eyes briefly, knowing this was going to be the most difficult part of his evening. She'd gotten stuck with it because she was the newest to the job and she couldn't help but resenting it.
Faith lay on the sofa, exhaustion clear on her pale face. She wasn't asleep, but her eyes were shut.
He looked over at Taylor. "What's goin' on?"
She turned her head to look at him. "She's been workin' two jobs so she can keep the apartment and her kids." Her voice was soft and she hesitated, not ready to tell him the rest.
"But if she's workin' two jobs...she probably never sees the kids." Bosco moved closer to the sofa to get a better look at his friend.
"No, not very often," she said softly.
Faith pressed a hand to her stomach as she coughed, a flash of pain crossing her face.
He stared down at Faith, and then quickly looked at Taylor.
"She's sick," Alex told him quietly.
"What like..the flu or somethin'?"
"No, Bosco. Not the flu."
He shook his head in confusion, taking in the somber look on Taylor's face. "Then what is it?"
"She's dying."
"What?!"
"The cancer came back. The doctors said that if she went through chemo and radiation she would probably go into remission, but..."
"But what?"
"She can't afford the treatments. Not on what she makes. The only reason she could before was that Fred was helpin' with the bills."
"But...but what about the rest of her family? Like her parents or her brother...or me? Why aren't we helping?"
She drew in a breath. "Her parents don't even know. She and her brother haven't spoken in years. And you...you died two years ago."
"I...I what?" Bosco shook his head. "No way."
Alex gazed at him. "There was a shoot out. You got hit twice. Died almost instantly."
Bosco hurried over to Taylor. "So why didn't you take me there? You should have taken me there so I'd know what to avoid!"
"Bosco, everything you do from time you wake up til the time you go to bed...it effects how things work. You've seen what the future holds, what the present holds. You can't change what her husband does now, but you can do something about her now. It's up to you."
He swallowed hard as he turned to look at Faith, watching as she coughed again, the pain evident on her face. "Why are you doin' this to me," he asked, his voice tortured.
"Because you change this," she whispered.
"But what if I screw up?"
A small smile touched her lips. "You won't. Not if you follow your heart."
Bosco closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. "Can you take me home now," he asked softly.
"Yeah. I can take you home." Alex tapped the heels of her shoes together once more and the room faded from view.
He woke up once more, finding himself still fully clothed as he lay under the covers of his bed. Bosco closed his eyes tight trying to rid his mind of what he'd learned about the present, and the future. He had to figure out what he could do to make sure that things turned out differently.
* * *
Faith sat on her sofa, stunned by the announcement that Fred had made only a couple hours before. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her body still trembling. It had been difficult keeping herself from crying in front of their kids, neither of them wanting to break the news to them on Christmas Day. It was bad enough that it had been dumped on -her- on the holiday. She was glad that Fred had taken the kids out to play in the snow that had fallen the night before because she really needed some time to come to terms with the fact that her marriage was over. The knock on the door made her jump, startled out of her thoughts. She slowly stood up and walked over to it, not bothering to look out the peep hole before she opened it.
Bosco managed to put a smile on his face. "'Mornin'."
She gazed back at him wordlessly, holding her breath.
He didn't wait to get invited inside. Instead he just moved past her into the apartment.
Faith swallowed hard, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, unsure of what to say.
He held up one of the bags he was carrying. "I brought presents, and..." He held up the other bag. "Christmas cookies."
She nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to fight the tears she felt building. "Boz..."
Bosco wanted to tell her that he already knew what had happened, but he knew there was no way he could really explain how he knew. He set the bags down on the coffee table, and took a deep breath.
"He's leavin'."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes reflecting her sadness.
"He said he's fallen in love with someone else." Her voice was strained, hurt.
"Fred's an idiot," he told her softly.
Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked at him silently.
"Come here."
Unable to offer up any protests, she walked over to where he stood a few feet away and slipped her arms around him, hugging him tightly as she pressed her face against his shoulder, her body shaking.
With one arm wrapped around her he gently stroked her hair with his free hand. "I'm really sorry."
Her grip tightened around him fractionally. "Why's he doin' this to me? It's Christmas."
"None of it makes any sense," he whispered.
"I don't know if I can fix this," she whispered back.
"Faith...I don't know if it's meant to be fixed."
"Boz...I've never...I've never been alone before." Her voice was barely audible.
"Shhh." He kissed the side of her head. "You're not gonna be alone."
Alex turned to Bobby and Hobart as the three looked on. There was a smirk on her face. "All right, boys. Pay up. Told ya he was a fast learner."
Authors: NYPDBosco and X_tremeroswellian
Emails: mauriceboscorelli@yahoo.com and faithboscorelli1@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not ours.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Everything thus far from fifth season.
Summary: The ghosts of Christmas past, present and future pay a visit to Bosco on Christmas Eve.
Author's Note: This is based off Charles Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol.' Or…actually the Disney version of the book since neither of us has you know, read the book.
Spirits of Christmas
"Son of a bitch! Do you realize how much paperwork this is gonna be?!" Bosco threw his arms in the air as he headed back over to the squad car. "The jag-off probably had too much eggnog!" He pointed toward the abandoned car that had t-boned two parked cars. "When I catch his ass..."
Faith glanced over at him. "He's probably miles away by now."
"No, he's probably down the street at the bar tyin' one on."
"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the squad car today," she mumbled under her breath as he snapped at her.
He yanked open the car door, and leaned inside to get his notepad. "We shoulda let Sully and Davis take this one."
She rolled her eyes. He'd said that about -every- call they'd had all evening and frankly she was getting a little sick of hearing it. Still, it was Christmas Eve and she didn't want to get into a fight with him if she told him to shut his mouth.
"You realize we're gonna be doin' paperwork the rest of the shift?"
"Yes, I realize that." Her voice was calm.
Bosco sighed heavily, and moved to the rear of the first vehicle to write down the license plate number. "Well...at least there weren't any injuries," he mumbled. "Cause you know what injuries mean."
"More paperwork?" she asked with a hint of sarcasm.
He turned to look at her. "That's exactly right."
Faith rolled her eyes again, not bothering to hide it this time. "Not to mention, you know, the -injuries-."
Bosco stared at her for a moment before shaking his head, and moving to write down the plate of one of the other cars.
She sighed softly, hoping that the rest of the shift went by much faster than it had been because she wasn't sure she could handle his bad mood much longer.
* * *
He threw his pen into the garbage can beside the desk. "Is it too much to ask for a pen that works?"
Faith jumped, startled at the unexpected sound of his angry voice. "Geez, Boz. Would you relax?"
"Relax? This has been the night from hell, and you want me to relax?"
"It's Christmas Eve. Nobody died on our watch. I'd say we had a decent night."
"Christmas Eve. Big frickin' deal." He opened the drawer, and searched for another pen.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot your name was Scrooge," she muttered, shaking her head as she went back to typing information into the computer.
"Yeah, that's right. Scrooge Boscorelli. Screw this whole Christmas cheer thing."
"You know, if you'd stop runnin' your mouth you'd probably get that done a lot faster."
Bosco slowly turned toward her. "Excuse me?"
"All you been doin' this whole shift is complainin', one thing after another. You know, just because -you- hate this holiday doesn't mean you gotta ruin it for me."
"Who said I was tryin' to ruin it for you?"
"Oh, no, that's your way of making me -love- Christmas."
He sighed, but didn't apologize as he turned back to work on the remainder of the paperwork.
She tried to ignore her feelings of annoyance as she typed. It was nearly an hour later before she finally finished and she stood up, stretching her arms over her head tiredly. She was more than ready to go home.
Bosco looked up at her. "You done?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Uh..." He glanced down. "Yeah...well almost."
She sat down on the desk, leaning back on her hands. "I'm sorry I snapped before." She really didn't want to fight with him at Christmas.
He took a deep breath before looking up at her again. "I've kinda been a jerk all day, huh?"
A small smile tugged at her lips. "Kinda."
"This whole Christmas thing...it just kinda...gets to me ya know?"
"I know." Her voice was softer.
"Well, you should probably get goin'. You still gotta play Santa."
"I can wait. You're almost done."
Bosco nodded his head, and picked up his pen. "You need a ride?"
"Yeah. That'd be nice. Thanks."
"Go 'head and go change." He pulled his chair a little closer to the desk, and continued working. Christmas wasn't his favorite holiday. In fact for the most part he hated it. He hated feeling obligated to buy "friends" gifts. He hated having to be cheerful about the holidays. He'd been cheerful enough as a kid, and every year his hopes were dashed by his father. Christmas didn't hold a very special place in his heart, but Faith had been right. He didn't need to ruin it for her.
Faith gazed at him for a moment, then touched his shoulder lightly before leaving the room. Wishing he wouldn't make himself miserable during the holidays.
* * *
Faith gazed out the passenger window of Bosco's mustang as he shifted it into park in front of her apartment building. She turned her head to look at him. "Why don't you come over in the morning? Spend the day with us?"
"You're kidding, right," he asked softly.
"No, not at all."
"You do remember that you called me Scrooge earlier?"
She smirked. "Cause that's how you were actin' earlier."
"Faith, I may not be the guy you want around on Christmas," he informed her.
She gazed at him for a moment. "Look, you're my best friend, Boz. You don't have to come, but...I'd like it if you did."
He looked out the front windshield, then turned to look at Faith. "Why don't you call me after the kids are up and opened their presents?"
"Sure. I can do that."
Bosco nodded his head. "So...I'll talk to you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Have a good night, Boz." She leaned over and kissed his cheek gently before climbing out of the car.
He reached up, and touched his cheek as he watched to make sure she got inside the building safely.
* * *
He hopped out of bed, a wide grin on his face as he moved over to the other side of the room in order to wake up his younger brother. "Mikey." He shook his shoulder. "Michael come on, it's Christmas."
Mikey lifted his head from the pillow. "Hmm?"
"Get up. It's Christmas!"
"It's like 3 a.m.," he grumbled, closing his eyes again.
"No it's not." He chuckled softly, unwilling to let his little brother ruin the excitement of Christmas morning. "It's almost 7."
"Are Ma and Pop up?"
Maurice shrugged. "I don't know. Let's just go look at the tree."
Mikey groaned again as he sat up. "Fine. Fine."
"Yes!" Maurice grabbed his little brother's hand, and hauled him toward the living room.
"Mo, slow down," he complained.
"You're usually more excited than I am. What's your deal?"
"I'm tired."
"I bet you won't be so tired if Santa brought you that bike you've been talkin' about forever."
Mikey grinned. "You think he did?" There was a hint of excitement to his voice.
"Maybe." He smiled at his little brother as they got closer to the living room, his excitement mounting.
Mikey's mouth dropped open as they entered the living room. The tree was lying on its side, several of the bulbs broken on the floor.
"Stay here," he whispered to his brother as he stepped a little farther into the room.
He bit his lip as he watched Maurice.
He tiptoed through the room taking note of the overturned tree, and the decorations that were scattered throughout the room. The stockings that had been hanging on the wall had been ripped down, and there was no sign of any presents. His lip trembled, and tears formed in his eyes as he looked around the room. His eyes settled on his father who was passed out on the sofa, bottle of whiskey in hand. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he walked back to where Mikey was standing. "Let's go back to our room."
Mikey nodded silently, his own eyes welling with tears as his brother cried. He took his hand, holding onto it tightly.
"I'm sorry, Michael."
Bosco woke with a start, and sat straight up in bed. He wiped at his eyes remembering the dream he'd just woken from, and feeling the lingering sadness.
"Bad dream?"
"What the..." He quickly scooted to the other side of the bed, his eyes wide.
Glen Hobart folded his arms across his chest. "Still wallowing in self pity, I see."
He closed his eyes tight, and shook his head. There was no way Hobart was standing in his bedroom because Glen Hobart was dead.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
"You -are- a ghost!"
"Oh. Yeah. Sometimes I forget." He shook his head. "I'm still new to this."
Bosco quickly got out of bed, and grabbed his jeans that were on the floor. "I gotta get outta here. There is -no- way you're here."
"Actually, I am. I was sent here."
He paused, and looked over at him. "And why exactly where you sent here? Is that my Christmas gift? Having you torture my mind once again? Cause ya know...I was just gettin' back on track."
"You really are paranoid, aren't you, Boscorelli?"
"Give me one reason after -everything- I've been through why I -shouldn't- be paranoid," he shot back.
"Because it's the season of miracles?"
"Yeah, and it'll be a miracle if I don't wind up in a mental institution after seeing you tonight." He zipped up his jeans. "Just leave me alone, Glen."
"Can't. I gotta job to do. You're comin' with me."
"What," he chuckled. "Takin' me down with you once wasn't enough?"
He rolled his eyes. "You really are a Scrooge."
"Is going with you the only way to get rid of you?"
"Well, first of all you're going with me whether you like it or not. It's not a choice. Secondly, yes."
"Fine." He shook his head in disgust. "Just let me get dressed."
"Hurry up. You're not the only person I gotta visit tonight."
"Whatever," he mumbled as he went to his dresser to find some socks.
The moment Bosco was dressed, Hobart looked at him. "You ready?"
"You know, you're just as pushy dead as you were when you were alive."
"I'll take that as a yes." He snapped his fingers and they both disappeared from the room.
* * *
Bosco found himself standing in the corner of the living room of the apartment he'd grown up in. He turned to look at Hobart. "What the hell is going on?"
"We're visiting a Christmas from your past," Hobart informed him.
He shook his head. "I already did that once tonight."
"Not the same Christmas." He nodded toward the two little boys in the living room sitting impatiently by the tree. A much younger Rose Boscorelli entered the room, wearing a pretty green sweater with a Christmas tree on it.
"Merry Christmas!" she said cheerfully.
"Merry Christmas, Ma," Mikey hopped up off the floor, and went over to hug his mother.
Hobart leaned against the wall, watching the scene unfold silently.
"Merry Christmas, Maurice," she said, giving him a soft smile.
He smiled up at his mother. "Merry Christmas."
Bosco glanced over at Glen, and swallowed hard before turning back to the scene in the living room.
Rose's face was lit up with contentment and happiness as she watched her sons unwrap package after package. It had been a year since she and their father had gotten divorced and it was their first Christmas without him. So far things were going much more smoothly. They were able to relax and enjoy it, not have to be fearful that something one of them said or did would send the man of the house into a fit of rage that would ruin the rest of the holiday.
"This was a really good day," Bosco said softly, watching as his mother moved into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a brand new bicycle for Mikey.
"Not all of your Christmas holidays have been bad ones, Boscorelli."
"Yeah, but the majority..."
"Majority smority. You dwell too much on the bad things. Not everything in your life was bad. Your mother loves you and your brother worships you. Why don't you try focusing on that for once?"
Bosco turned to glare at him. "Are you here to tell me I'm a jerk?! Cause I hear that enough as it is!"
"No, I'm here to tell you to stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself. You might actually start to like your life."
"Why do you even care?"
"Because I'm the Ghost of Christmas Past, of course."
He looked back toward the scene in the living room, and sighed when he saw how happy the three of them had been that Christmas. "Okay, so not -every- Christmas was bad. I get that. Now...can I go back to sleep?"
Hobart shook his head. "Why do I even try?" He snapped his fingers and they vanished from the apartment.
* * *
Bosco's body jerked, and his eyes opened. He lifted his head off of his pillow, and looked around his dark bedroom. "What the hell kinda dream was that," he wondered aloud. He shook his head, and raked his hand through his hair before laying his head back down.
"Who said it was a dream?"
He jumped, startled by the vaguely familiar voice. Bosco placed a hand over his racing heart, and slowly turned his head toward the sound. "No way. No fuckin' way."
"Good to see you, too, Bosco," Bobby Caffey said dryly.
Bosco shook his head back and forth. "You know, I'm gonna have to start goin' to a shrink."
"Wouldn't hurt."
"Yeah, I see it now. 'So Officer Boscorelli, what seems to be the problem?'" Bosco glared at Bobby. "Oh, nothin' big it's just that...I see dead people."
Bobby chuckled. "That was a good movie."
He rolled his eyes. "So why are you here?"
"Come on, Bosco. Haven't you read anything by Charles Dickens?"
"Do you really picture me as the reading type, Caffey?"
"Point taken. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present."
Bosco groaned. "This is startin' to play out like a really bad movie."
"I think I'm offended."
"So..." He sighed. "Where are you takin' me?"
"You'll see soon enough. You ready?"
"Just let me get..." Bosco threw off the covers to find that he was dressed. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked up at Bobby. "Is this for real? Did I really go back in time with Hobart?"
"Of course. This isn't some dream."
He rubbed his face with both hands. "All right...let's go."
Bobby nodded, clapped his hands, and they vanished.
* * *
Bobby had never been inside Faith Yokas' apartment before, but he found himself nodding in approval as he glanced around at all the decorations. "She's got a nice place."
"Yeah, she works hard," Bosco said softly as he glanced over at the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room.
"Obviously."
Faith walked into the room, rubbing her neck with one hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed. A moment later Fred Yokas followed her down the hall and into the living room. "You can't be serious."
"I'm sorry, Faith, but I just can't..."
"Why? Why -now-?" She shook her head. "I don't understand."
Bosco's eyes narrowed, and he glanced over at Bobby as he tried to figure out what was going on.
Fred ran his hand over his head. "It's just...I can't do this anymore Faith. We've grown apart."
She stared at him. "Is this cause I went back to work? Are you still upset with me?"
"It's not just that. It's everything."
"Like what?"
He shook his head. "I don't love you anymore," he told her softly.
Bosco's jaw was tense, and he started toward Fred.
"He can't see you," Bobby informed him.
"Yeah?! Well he's gonna feel me!"
"You...what?" Her voice was barely audible, his words stunning her.
"We've been through a lot. My heart attack. You gettin' shot." He paused. "But don't you think there's somethin' missing?"
"There wasn't for me," she whispered, her voice strained.
"Get me outta here," Bosco said softly as he watched the scene in front of him.
"Not yet," Bobby said just as softly.
"I don't wanna see this."
"Please, Fred. Whatever it is, we can work through it."
Fred shook his head. "There's somebody else."
She was so shocked she couldn't even respond. Tears in her eyes.
He took a step toward her. "I met her a couple weeks back. We really clicked."
"Is this some kind of sick joke?"
"Do you really think I'd joke about something like this? I didn't want this to happen."
Faith turned away from him, her face pale. She was so upset she was trembling.
"I swear to God, Bobby. Get me outta here."
"Yeah. Okay. You've seen enough." He clapped his hands and the room around them disappeared.
* * *
He slowly opened his eyes to find himself lying in bed once again. His heart felt heavy as he thought about what he'd just seen. He needed some answers. "Bobby! Bobby, where the hell are you?"
"Bobby's gone. You've got me now," A familiar female's voice replied.
Bosco turned to find himself face to face with Alex Taylor. "Why'd he take me to Faith's? Why'd he show me that?"
She gazed at him, her eyes sympathetic. "Because you needed to know."
He crawled out of bed, and began to pace. "I don't wanna do this anymore."
"I know you don't. I'm the last one to visit you."
He nodded his head. "So...where are you taking me," he asked softly.
"Same place you just were...only a few years in the future."
"Look, I don't need to see how miserable Faith's gonna be. Or...or how happy Fred is with someone else." He shook his head. "No way."
"There's no bargaining, Bosco. I'm showin' you what you have to see. Because what you do could make all the difference."
"So you're tellin' me I can change all this stuff?"
"Well...you can't change the past...or the present, either, really, but...the future is never certain." Alex's voice was quiet as she looked at him.
His eyes narrowed. "Why'd you guys pick me anyway?"
She smiled faintly. "Because you're the one who needed us. You and Faith, both, actually."
Bosco's shoulders slumped, and he let out a breath. "Let's get this over with," he whispered.
Alex nodded, then tapped the heels of her shoes together and they vanished.
* * *
A moment later Bosco found himself standing in the same corner of Faith's apartment. However this time, the furniture was different, and the Christmas tree was in the opposite corner.
Alex closed her eyes briefly, knowing this was going to be the most difficult part of his evening. She'd gotten stuck with it because she was the newest to the job and she couldn't help but resenting it.
Faith lay on the sofa, exhaustion clear on her pale face. She wasn't asleep, but her eyes were shut.
He looked over at Taylor. "What's goin' on?"
She turned her head to look at him. "She's been workin' two jobs so she can keep the apartment and her kids." Her voice was soft and she hesitated, not ready to tell him the rest.
"But if she's workin' two jobs...she probably never sees the kids." Bosco moved closer to the sofa to get a better look at his friend.
"No, not very often," she said softly.
Faith pressed a hand to her stomach as she coughed, a flash of pain crossing her face.
He stared down at Faith, and then quickly looked at Taylor.
"She's sick," Alex told him quietly.
"What like..the flu or somethin'?"
"No, Bosco. Not the flu."
He shook his head in confusion, taking in the somber look on Taylor's face. "Then what is it?"
"She's dying."
"What?!"
"The cancer came back. The doctors said that if she went through chemo and radiation she would probably go into remission, but..."
"But what?"
"She can't afford the treatments. Not on what she makes. The only reason she could before was that Fred was helpin' with the bills."
"But...but what about the rest of her family? Like her parents or her brother...or me? Why aren't we helping?"
She drew in a breath. "Her parents don't even know. She and her brother haven't spoken in years. And you...you died two years ago."
"I...I what?" Bosco shook his head. "No way."
Alex gazed at him. "There was a shoot out. You got hit twice. Died almost instantly."
Bosco hurried over to Taylor. "So why didn't you take me there? You should have taken me there so I'd know what to avoid!"
"Bosco, everything you do from time you wake up til the time you go to bed...it effects how things work. You've seen what the future holds, what the present holds. You can't change what her husband does now, but you can do something about her now. It's up to you."
He swallowed hard as he turned to look at Faith, watching as she coughed again, the pain evident on her face. "Why are you doin' this to me," he asked, his voice tortured.
"Because you change this," she whispered.
"But what if I screw up?"
A small smile touched her lips. "You won't. Not if you follow your heart."
Bosco closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples. "Can you take me home now," he asked softly.
"Yeah. I can take you home." Alex tapped the heels of her shoes together once more and the room faded from view.
He woke up once more, finding himself still fully clothed as he lay under the covers of his bed. Bosco closed his eyes tight trying to rid his mind of what he'd learned about the present, and the future. He had to figure out what he could do to make sure that things turned out differently.
* * *
Faith sat on her sofa, stunned by the announcement that Fred had made only a couple hours before. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, her body still trembling. It had been difficult keeping herself from crying in front of their kids, neither of them wanting to break the news to them on Christmas Day. It was bad enough that it had been dumped on -her- on the holiday. She was glad that Fred had taken the kids out to play in the snow that had fallen the night before because she really needed some time to come to terms with the fact that her marriage was over. The knock on the door made her jump, startled out of her thoughts. She slowly stood up and walked over to it, not bothering to look out the peep hole before she opened it.
Bosco managed to put a smile on his face. "'Mornin'."
She gazed back at him wordlessly, holding her breath.
He didn't wait to get invited inside. Instead he just moved past her into the apartment.
Faith swallowed hard, closing the door behind him and leaning against it, unsure of what to say.
He held up one of the bags he was carrying. "I brought presents, and..." He held up the other bag. "Christmas cookies."
She nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor as she tried to fight the tears she felt building. "Boz..."
Bosco wanted to tell her that he already knew what had happened, but he knew there was no way he could really explain how he knew. He set the bags down on the coffee table, and took a deep breath.
"He's leavin'."
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes reflecting her sadness.
"He said he's fallen in love with someone else." Her voice was strained, hurt.
"Fred's an idiot," he told her softly.
Her eyes were filled with tears as she looked at him silently.
"Come here."
Unable to offer up any protests, she walked over to where he stood a few feet away and slipped her arms around him, hugging him tightly as she pressed her face against his shoulder, her body shaking.
With one arm wrapped around her he gently stroked her hair with his free hand. "I'm really sorry."
Her grip tightened around him fractionally. "Why's he doin' this to me? It's Christmas."
"None of it makes any sense," he whispered.
"I don't know if I can fix this," she whispered back.
"Faith...I don't know if it's meant to be fixed."
"Boz...I've never...I've never been alone before." Her voice was barely audible.
"Shhh." He kissed the side of her head. "You're not gonna be alone."
Alex turned to Bobby and Hobart as the three looked on. There was a smirk on her face. "All right, boys. Pay up. Told ya he was a fast learner."