Author: BreathlessFaith

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I own nothing here except for the idea of the story.

A/N: This is just fluff, that takes place 3 years after Camelot has ended. Bosco has been rewarded for his service to the city and is now a member of ESU.


Three years. That's how long it's been since I last saw her.

I can watch her with no fear of being discovered from my perch up here on the rooftop. I lay my rifle down on the brick wall and stare down at her.

She's alone. Her partner isn't here. I've never met him.

But his reputation precedes him as they say.

Not that I would admit it to anyone, but I'm glad he's her partner. He's a big guy, and smarter than most. Rumor had it, the bosses at Major Cases made her his new partner for one reason only. She'd been my partner for 13 years.

They figured anyone that could stand being with me for that long, could handle him. From what I hear they were right.

Turned out that his now ex-partner turned wife, gave the final approval. Yup, partners that fell for each other. How often does that happen? A lot I'm told. However most of the time it doesn't work out. Their one of the lucky ones.

I know that Faith's alone because her partner is on maternity leave with his wife. She's been floating wherever someones needed. Normally I'd say she'd hate that. I'm surprised at how calm she seems. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I felt like a taut wire ready to snap. I wasn't even looking in her direction when she pulled up to the scene.

I still had my rifle trained on the dead gunman, lying in the alley below me. I never will know what it was that took that tautness out of me. Maybe the wind blew her scent up the 6 stories to me. Maybe it carried the sound of her voice as she spoke to the Sargent in charge of the crime scene.

Maybe it was just my heart hearing hers. For the first time in over three years it went thump thump...thump thump.

I shake my head wondering what kind of sap I'm becoming. I never think such sentimental things.

I'm about to turn away when she looks up at me. I can't tell what she's thinking, too far away I guess. Then again maybe I just don't want to read whats in her eyes.

There is a movement behind her and I look away from her. My hand grips my rifle ready to pull it upoff the brick wall, and aim at any danger headed her way. It isn't danger that comes. Instead it's a young uniform officer, trying to get her attention. He's about to reach out and touch her. For some reason the thought of him touching her pisses me off. I find my fingers gripping the rifle tighter. Her focus does not move from me and I like it. This is the way it was once long ago, it's the way it should be now. I know that she will turn to him soon as he touches her.

For some reason I want her to think about me. I don't want her to think about the young unscared uniform officer when she goes home tonight. I want her to think about me.

So I wink at her.

Her eyes widen at my outrageousness and I get just a hint of a smile. With that hint of a smile, I can finally turn around and walk away.

Three hours of paperwork later and I'm finally headed home. One of the great things about a mustang like mine is sometimes it steers you in one direction, instead of you steering it. That's how I ended up at our bridge. All these years and it's still our bridge.

I shut off the lights and turn the key, killing the mustangs powerful engine.

Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I debate about whether to get out or not.

I haven't been here since the last time with Faith. Hell that was a lifetime ago. Before I got Faith shot.

I'm bone tired, but the view of the river calls to me and out I get.

I shiver it's February and it's damn cold out. Faith loved coming here and watching the East River flow by. Me, it was just somewhere to duck calls, somewhere to be alone with Faith. Somewhere that is ours alone.

"What is wrong with me?" I say to the darkness, shoving my cold hands into my pockets. I walk closer to the water. I wish I'd brought a six pack with me, but hell it's the rare occasion I even have one any more. There hasn't been any beer in my fridge in months.

That isn't the only thing there hasn't been any of. Oh the first year and a half I tried. Funny thing though I didn't touch a blonde or a brunette. Nope just red-heads. Ninety-five percent of the time I ended up walking them to their door. Giving them a swift kiss good-night with a mumbled promise to call sometime.

Never did call any of them back. Eventually, since brunettes made my stomach roll and blondes were never the right blonde, I stopped even trying with the red-heads. So I became good friends with my hand again. We haven't been that kind of friends since I was 20.

I must say that my fantasies have improved since then. No more are they filled with cupid Valentine's card images. No more dime store boxes of chocolate covered cherries. No more cartoon images of bosomy brunettes in red lingerie, with a red rose held tightly between her teeth.

My fantasies have moved on to soft-haired blondes, wrapped up in peach colored flannel robes. Who smile softly at me when I walk in the door at the end of a hard shift. Yup a soft-haired blonde who more often than not, gets that dime store box of chocolate, when she really should have a box of imported Swiss truffles.

A soft-haired blonde who, when I say "I wish we had a fireplace." answers me with "Why? We can have the best fire in February right in our own bedroom. Without all the smoke, soot, and ash to deal with."

I'm pretty sure I know where to find that soft-haired blonde of my mid-thirties fantasies. I'm just hoping in an hour when I knock on her door, she's not going to shoot me because it's 2:00 AM.

I'm hoping she's willing to accept my heart as her Valentine's Day present. If I'm a very lucky man this year she'll give me her heart in return.

The blinding lights of a car stop me as I turn away from the East River to head back to my mustang.

The headlights go off as soon as the car comes to a stop, next to the mustang. Still it takes a couple of moments for my eyes to readjust, to the darkness again. My hand reaches for the gun strapped under my jacket.

The door of the car opens, and the driver slowly gets out of the car. I smile recognizing Faith immediately. I should have known she would seek me out.

She stands still at the car door hesitating for just a moment. I watch her take in a deep breath as she steps around the door and pushes it closed. Her hands are shoved into the pockets of her jacket and she slowly walks the few feet that separates us.

The cloud that had been in front of the moon drifts away and I see her beautiful eyes clearly. For the first time in years, I don't feel like she's hiding from me, I feel like she's letting me in.

I let out the breath I'd been holding as Faith pulls her hands out of her pockets. She takes one step closer and the next thing I know she's linking her hands around my neck. Faith gives a small tug and I slide my own arms around her waist, pulling her warm body tightly against mine.

Faith gives me the kind of knowing smirk, I've given many women over the years. The one that says I got you.

"I've waited a little over seventeen years for you to wink at me again Bos."

I look at her confused for a moment. Then I remember..."That's right. It was our first day at the Academy. You were on the other side of the room and I thought to myself ..."You're in trouble now Maurice. That woman could make you forget about every other woman on this planet.
Then I winked at you, and as I recall you gave me that same wide-eyed look you did today."

"I was shocked, the best looking guy in the room not only noticed me, but winked at me. I think I fell in love with you in that moment. I just didn't know it."

I tried for just a moment to think of something to say to her confession. Instead I decided I'd communicate with her the way we did best. By not talking at all.

The moment my lips touched hers, I knew I was right all those years ago. There is no woman for me but Faith.



P.S. in case anyone was wondering, Faith's new partner at Major Cases is Bobby Goren from L&O Criminal Intent.