AUTHOR: faith_in_Faith

E-MAIL: faith_in_Faith@hotmail.com

DISCLAIMER: Don't own, just play...


SPOILERS: Up to and including season four

AUTHORS NOTE I: Thanks go to Jenny for correcting this for me, and to wine_into_water for giving me enough courage to post this and for helping me to correct it. BIG THANKS also for all the kind reviews on "The only one" They really made my day!

AUTHORS NOTE II: This is the sequel to "The only one" so if you haven't read that one you might want to do so. THIS IS NOT A HAPPY STORY!!!!




I lift my head to look at Sean. "What?" I ask.

He looks at me with concern, and smiles as he asks. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's OK," I reply and smile back.

"I'll be back in about an hour then?" He smiles again.

I nod, and get out of the car, and walk slowly down the path, and kneel down at the ground in front of his tombstone.

"Hi, Bos," I say softly as I start to take care of his grave.

I arrange the flowers I brought in a vase. They are dark blue. I always buy these flowers for him. I don't know their name, but they have the same colour as his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes. I understand that women fell for them.

"So how are you doing?" I whisper and run my fingers over his name. "You're nice to the female angels, aren't you? You don't want to piss Mom off, right?"

I feel my eyes starting to fill with tears and I have to wipe them away.

"Sorry, Bos," I say. "It's just that I miss you so much."

It's a year now, since he died. I'm having a really hard time understanding it though. He kind of gave us the impression that he would always be around. It was a good thing at the time, I guess. We really needed to feel safe and rescued when mom died, and we really needed to feel that we didn't have to worry - that someone was going to stay around forever. Now it's not so good though, because it makes it hard for me to deal with his death. It's like my brain can't deal with the information it gets.

I remember as clearly as if it was yesterday the beginning of the end. Charlie called me one night, and asked if I could meet with him the next day, because there was something important that he needed to talk to me about.

"Why don't you talk to Bosco about it?" I asked curiously.

You see, Charlie talks to Bosco about everything, always. I mean talked to Bosco about everything. See? I keep forgetting that he isn't around anymore.

"I can't talk to Bosco about this, "he answered.

I felt a knot forming in my stomach. What on earth could Charlie have done that he couldn't tell Bosco?

"Charlie! What have you done? It has to be something really bad if you can't tell Bosco," I said, both anger and worry in my voice.

"Come on Em!" Charlie replied in an annoyed tone. "Why do you always think I screw things up? Why can't you have a little faith in me?"

"Sorry," I said and felt cruel. He never screwed things up. I really couldn't understand why that was my first thought.

"The reason I can't talk to Bosco about this is because it's about him," Charlie said very seriously.

Once again I felt scared, what was going on? "What's wrong?" I asked, and I could here the fear in my voice myself.

"I don't wanna talk about it over the phone. Can we meet tomorrow morning?"

"OK, see you at ten?"

"Sounds good to me, the usual place," he replied, and hung up the phone.

I hardly slept at all that night. I tried to figure out what this was about. I remember thinking that maybe he was in trouble at work- but no. He didn't get into that kind of trouble anymore - not since mom died.

When I arrived at the café the next morning, Charlie was already there, having coffee. He stood up and gave me a hug. "Hi Em."

"Hi," I answered as I took off my coat and ordered some coffee myself.

"So what's up?" I asked, not able to wait anymore. I was too worried.

Charlie looked at me, and frowned as he said, "I think there's something wrong with Bos."

"What do you mean with wrong?" I asked feeling scared again.

"I think he's sick."

"Why?" was all I managed to get out because now I was really worried.

"He looks kind of tired," Charlie answered hesitatingly.

I had to smile. Maybe this wasn't anything to worry about after all.

"Charlie, he always does that," I replied, suddenly feeling relived.

"I know, but this is different. He looks exhausted."

I smiled again. "Maybe ten years lack of sleep has finally taken its toll on him."

Charlie looked at me bewilderedly. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, Charlie!" I said, and looked at him in disbelief. "He never sleeps more than four or five hours a night - six at the most. Please don't tell me you never noticed that?"

Charlie looked ashamed. "How am I supposed to know, I sleep at night," he answered defensively.

I just rolled my eyes. "I think you're worrying about nothing," I replied, and gave him a reassuring smile.

He sighed. "Em, you have to listen to me. It's more; he coughs a lot too."

"What do you mean with a lot?" I asked, and felt my heart starting to beat faster.

"Like all the time. He coughs the whole night, even keeping me awake!" Charlie exclaimed, looking upset.

"Maybe it's because of the pneumonia he had," I answered lamely.

"Come one Em, that was two months ago!" he replied, and looked angrily at me.

"I know;" I murmured, not knowing what to say about the whole thing.

Charlie ran his hand trough his hair nervously and said, "I think he has lost some weight too."

I looked at him in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. If Charlie could tell that Bos had lost some weight then there had to be something wrong.

"Have you asked him about it?"

Charlie rolled his eyes. "Of course I have, but you know as well as I do what Maurice Boscorelli answers to the question; are you OK?"

"I'm fine," we both said in unison, and then we started to laugh.

Little did we know that this wasn't a laughing matter, not at all- or maybe we did. Maybe we just didn't want to think about it.

"So can you talk to him about it?" Charlie asked pleadingly.

"Yeah, I'll talk to him. I can come over tonight. Do you think he's home?"

Charlie nodded, "Yeah he's home. I know that for sure. I'm not though. I have a date with Sofia."

I smiled. "Sounds nice, I'll call you tomorrow and tell you what happened."

"Good, look I really have to go, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, OK?" He stood up and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before he left.

I went to see Bos that night, and my worst nightmare came true. I remember how nervous I was when I stood outside the door, and I remember how the truth hit me hard right from the start - although I did everything to deny it. I knocked at the door and he answered it almost right away.

"Hi, Em," he said, and smiled at me as he held the door open for me to come inside.

"What's up? Are you running out of food at your place?" he asked, and winked at me.

I could see the boyish twinkle in his eyes, and felt a tiny hope. At least he had the spirit left. Then it couldn't be so bad, right?

"No," I answered, and tried to sound offended. "I just came over to see you."

He raised his eyebrows. "On a Friday night? Now what's up? Did Sean dump you?"

"No," I replied and glared at him.

"Then why are you here? Do you need money?" he said, but he smiled when he said it, and I knew that he was teasing me.

"Do I really have to have a reason to come and see you? "I asked. "Maybe I want to see you because I love you."

"Emily Yokas!" he replied, trying to sound disappointed with me. "Didn't I teach you not to lie?"

"Sorry, Bosco," I said in a childish voice and looked down as I tried not to laugh.

"I forgive you," he replied, and tried to sound stern, but he failed and we both busted into laughter.

The good moment stopped right away as his laughter turned into a terrible coughing spell. He coughed so hard and so long that I thought he would suffocate. When it was over he rested his back against the wall, and closed his eyes as he tried to take deep breaths. I felt dread rise inside. There was something seriously wrong with him.

"Bos," I said. as I lay my hand at his arm, "you OK?"

He nodded and opened his eyes, and smiled, "I'm fine don't you worry. I've just caught a cold or something."

I didn't believe him. I looked at him and saw that Charlie was right. He had lost weight, a lot - at least twenty pounds. I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before. His clothes didn't seem to fit anymore, and his face looked really gaunt.

"Don't lie to me," I begged quietly.

"Em," he said gently, "I'm f..."

"Don't play that game with me," I replied angrily as I cut him off.

He looked confused. "What game?"

"The 'fine' game! You always say you're fine - even when you're not, but today you have to be both blind and deaf, or a complete idiot to believe you. Please, Bosco don't do this to me. Please tell me the truth!" I said, and my voice almost failed me because of the anger and fear I felt.

He looked at me stunned. "My God Emily, you sound exactly as your mother!"

I had to smile. "I had a good teacher."

"Yes, you had," he answered softly, and I saw his eyes go sad as they always did when he thought about Mom.

"Bosco?" I said, hoping that he would tell me the truth.

"It's OK, Emily. I haven't felt so good lately, but I'm sure it'll pass."

"No, it isn't OK. You're getting a doctors appointment first thing in the morning. Do you hear me? Because if you don't, I'll do it for you," I said sternly.

"You really are as bossy as your mother," he groaned, but smiled at me. . "Like I said; I had a good teacher," I smiled back

He died six months later. The cancer took him. He had it in his lungs. They said he might have gotten it because of all the stuff he inhaled at 9/11, but no one really knows, and it doesn't matter. He's dead, and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

It happened very fast, even the doctors thought so. I guess he didn't think he had anything to fight for. All he ever wanted was to be with Mom - and now, when he got a chance to go to her, why would he fight against it? His mission was completed. Charlie and I had grown up. He had managed to make good, honest, hard working people out of us, and I know that made him proud - maybe even happy. I doubt the last part though. Happiness wasn't anything he allowed himself to feel.

I have come to understand over the years just how much Mom meant to him. Sometimes I even think she was his reason to live. I think he loved her, not just as a friend, but also like lovers do. I think he was in love with her. I never dared to ask though. I didn't want to hurt him. Everything connected with Mom hurt him. He kind off stopped living when she died.

He stopped doing everything that could have made him happy. He never dated any women, or went out to drink and have fun after work - or any other time. Not that Charlie and I know of anyway. I think he thought he deserved to be alone and unhappy.

He thought it was his fault that she died, because he chose anti crime instead of her so that he wasn't there to protect her at the time. The fact that they were mad at each other when she died, and that he never got a chance to fix it, was eating him up inside. I know that was the reason why he hardly slept after she died.

All he ever wanted was to be with her. I sometimes think that if he hadn't had to take care of us, he would have found a way to go after her, but he thought he didn't deserved to get away that easy. So he took care of us instead.

I think he saw it as a sacrifice that he needed to do to earn some kind of forgiveness. Don't get me wrong - I know he loved us, but it had been so much easier for him to just walk away and let someone else sort things out. That was what he did most of the time back then. Lucky for Charlie and me he didn't do it that time.

I doubt that someone else could have loved us more than he did. He did everything for us. He volunteered to take permanent desk duty. He changed from being hot headed and immature, to showing responsibility and being calm and reasonable. He even lived without wanting it. So although I miss him like hell, I hope from the bottom of my heart that he's happy now, because he's earned it. He paid the price for his mistakes, and now he deserves to have some peace and happiness.

I place a kiss on my hand, and put it at his name before I stand up and say, "Bye, Bos, see you next Saturday."

I go further into the cemetery and drop to my knees in front of mom's tombstone.

"Hi mom," I say, and arrange the red roses I brought in a vase.

I always bring her red roses, and I do it for him, because that was what he always brought her. That's one of the reasons that make me think that he loved her.

"Is he giving you a hard time? Don't be too hard on him. I know he loves to be with you. Try to keep him in line, and take care of him for me. I miss him a lot, but I know you know that, " I whisper.

I place a kiss at her name too, and then I stand up and leave. I walk back towards the gate, and when I pass his grave I stop and look at it, and then I start to cry. I can't help it. After all - he was the only one who wanted to have us, and now we have no one...