"I'm Officer Boscorelli," he heard a familiar voice say to the bodyguards outside the door, "I'm here to speak with Mr. Littrell."

He watched as the door slowly creaked open across the room and held his breath, hoping the bodyguards had been wise enough to ask for identification... two types hopefully... three would be even better. If he was lucky they'd fingerprinted him out in the hallway and then at least if he killed him they'd know who the culprit was. He didn't feel he could trust anyone anymore, especially someone he'd never met before that morning.

The door continued to open even after he'd tried his best to will it closed again, and as it opened a light shined in revealing the figure of a man in the doorway. He removed his hat swiftly as he shuffled his way inside, allowing the light from the hallway to filter in behind him and slowly unveil his familiar face.

"Mr. Littrell?" He spoke softly as Brian waved him in and tried his best to lift himself to a sitting position on his bed, struggling through the pain with his teeth clenched. He ran his bruised fingers through his hair in a futile attempt to make himself look somewhat presentable. He was thankful that at least he recognized this man, even if he didn't know him personally... or even his name. It was the same officer who'd called for help that morning when the wounds he'd tried his best to ignore finally got the better of him.

Officer Boscorelli extended a hand as he took the seat next to Brian's hospital bed, "I'm Officer Maurice Boscorelli with the NYPD Crime Scene Unit. We met briefly this morning at the hotel. I know this is a difficult time for you and your friends, but I need to ask you a few questions."

Brian hesitated, but only momentarily before nodding and reaching out to shake the man's hand. "I understand," he finally spoke, his voice weak and filled with the nervousness of an entire days worth of chaos, "and please, call me Brian."

Bosco nodded and pulled out a pad of paper from his breast pocket. Brian never took his eyes off the man, watching as he maneuvered himself into a comfortable position in the seat and pulled the pen from behind his ear. The officer was a younger man and Brian found himself wondering how anyone could actually do his job and still be able to live a normal life. He had to shake the memories of the morning from his head yet again. The horror and the gore of the sight of his best friend laying there on the floor of their hotel room as the blood from his wounds pooled around him. How could anyone see those kinds of sights on a daily basis and not completely lose faith in humanity?

"Are you ready?" he heard the young officer ask as he closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillow in the bed.

No. He would never be ready for something like this.

Even as he asked the question Bosco cringed. "Are you ready." It was a simple question really, and one he was required to ask every single time he began a witness interview... but it was one, that as a human being who cared about other human beings... he thouroughly dreaded.

Of course the young man wasn't "ready."

Who would be?

He watched as Brian sat back further in the bed, opened his eyes again and nodded his head. The two of them sat there next to each other for a few moments as an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Bosco couldn't help but watch as Brian stared blankly out the window past his head and for the second time that day he felt sorry for the man. He knew he'd been through hell that day. Watching one of his friends attacked and being attacked himself. Bosco himself had been in similar positions before... too many times to count. He'd lost fellow officers in the line of duty -- officers that he'd worked with for years and loved and he'd known the entire time that it could just as easily have been him. He'd stood on the sidelines and witnessed innocent paramedics and fire fighters die at the hands of criminals who didn't give a damn that they were just trying to do their jobs. He'd stood by and watched as a good friend put a gun to his head and commited suicide on the roof of a building, completely powerless to do anything to stop him. He'd lived through September 11th and it's aftermath and somehow managed, despite the things he saw that day, to keep going. And not all that long ago he'd nearly lost his own life in an attack against his unit. Because of all of this, he recognized the look in Brian's eyes for what it truly was -- sadness, confusion and grief. The young man had been through so much that day and here he was getting ready to ask him to relive it all over again.

"Before we start..." Brian's words pulled Bosco from his thoughts and he turned towards him and nodded for him to continue, "... have you heard anything about Aj... about our friend who was injured."

All Bosco could do was shake his head. He'd gone straight from the hotel to the station and from there he'd come straight here to this hospital room. He had no idea how any of the victims were doing and he knew that even if he needed that information, there was no one in this hospital who had the rights to release it to him. Only family members were allowed to know and then, only if it was their desire did the detectives get informed.

"We're only informed when a victim dies," Bosco responded feeling he could at least divulge this much information to Mr. Littrell, "and thus far I've heard nothing."

"So that's good then," Brian asked, his eyes growing a little wider with hope, "that means he's still alive?"

"As far as I'm aware."

He knew he shouldn't be telling Brian this at all, but he also knew if it were his friend laid up somewhere in the hospital and he wasn't allowed to see him or know what was happening that he would probably go insane. So he didn't see that it could hurt.

"Okay," Brian nodded as he sat a little straighter in his bed, "I'm ready now."

"Start from the beginning and tell me everything that you remember about this morning."

Brian leaned his head once more against the pillow and took a deep breath. All of the things he'd been trying so hard not to think about all day... now this man was telling him he had to. He closed his eyes and tried his best to think about the night before, the last good memories he had of all four of them together. They'd played to a nearly sold out house, the fans screaming their names and it reminded him, as it always did when they played a big crowd of the times when they were so insanely famous that everyone knew who they were. They'd finished up the show and headed over to the after party where they'd hung out together for longer than they did at most after parties. They'd danced and had drinks and they'd even attempted some kareokee to please the fans. It had been one of the best nights Brian had had with his bandmates since Kevin had left the group. He felt like they were just getting into the groove of things... and then this morning...

He took another deep breath and began...

"Aj and I both got into our rooms about 2 am. We were exhausted and I remember barely being able to stay awake long enough to brush my teeth and get undressed. When I finally crashed Aj was laying on his bed flipping through the channels on the tv. That's the last thing I remember before waking up this morning."

Bosco nodded. "And what woke you up this morning?"

"I remember thinking I was dreaming. I remember not believing that I was really awake at all. I heard some sort of popping noise and at first it didn't register to me what it was because I was in a total daze. I think it wasn't until the last pop that I realized I was hearing something inside the room... that the sound was really close and that it didn't sound like popping anymore... it sounded like a gunshot."

"What did you do at that point... when you decided that what you were hearing was a gunshot?"

"I was still half asleep. I remember at that point, even though I knew what I was hearing and that I was convinced it was inside my room, I still thought I was dreaming. And there's that point in dreams when sometimes you realize you're having a nightmare and you can force yourself to wake up... that's what I tried to do. I remember thinking, I need to wake up right now and I thought that's what happened because I really felt awake then... but before I even had a chance to open my eyes... I realized it wasn't a dream at all."

He shuddered. This was the part he least wanted to remember. These were the moments he would like to lock away and never think about again. The strength of the man's hands as they'd wrapped tightly around his throat, choking the very breath out of his body. The seemingly endless number of punches delivered to his gut. The feeling when he finally had the courage and strength to open his eyes and... and... well he couldn't think about what happened after that.

They say your life flashes before your eyes when you know you're about to die... but that didn't happen for Brian. He hadn't felt anything but fear in the moments that followed. He hadn't been able to do anything but gasp. He hadn't thought about anything at all except... "I'm going to die."

"Brian?"

He jumped slightly, startled by the sound of Officer Boscorelli's voice from beside him. He'd gotten so lost within his thoughts that for a few moments he'd forgotten why he forced himself to think about them to begin with.

"Are you okay?"

Did he want the honest answer to that question? Or the one he'd been handing out to doctor's and nurses and even his best friends and family members all day long...

"I'm okay." He finally lied.

"What happened then?"

Brian took another deep breath in, knowing he had to get it over with. Knowing he had to tell someone and this was as good a time as any. "I felt his hands around my throat. He was choking me and I couldn't breathe and it hurt and it had taken me by total surprise. I struggled for a second before I finally opened my eyes and tha... tha..." he struggled to release the final words, "that's when he put the gun against my head."

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing," And it was true. Brian shivered at the thought of how at that moment he'd looked death in the face... and fearfully accepted it. "He pulled the trigger... and nothing happened. He pulled it again and again... and nothing... just nothing..."

Brian raised his head when he heard Nick trying to stiffle his sobs in the bed across the room. He shook his head and wiped the tears that were forming on his own cheeks. He hadn't thought about Nick being there in the room with him. About the fact that this was the first time he was hearing any of this... that he hadn't told him before... that he hadn't talked at all about any of what he'd been through. He knew it must be as difficult for Nick to hear the details of what had happened as it was for him to talk about it.

"... finally I kicked him..." Brian continued, his voice weak and strained, his eyes aimed towards where he'd buried his hands beneath the covers, "And that's when he left."

"Brian," Bosco lifted his pen momentarily after furiously scratching out details for that last half hour, "you say 'he', how do you know that it was a man?"

Brian wiped the tears that were now pouring down his face and looked Bosco directly in the eyes. "You know these things. His arms were thick and he was powerful. He reeked of sweat and he had a full gray beard on his face that I just know wasn't fake. I just know it was a man... I just know."

"Can you tell me anything else that describes him Brian? His eye color, height, what he was wearing?"

"I didn't see much... he was holding me down tightly and I was dizzy from having his hands around my neck. But I saw the beard for sure... and he was wearing a red baseball cap... and that's all I can tell you..."

Both men jumped as Brian finished speaking and a shrill screech sounded out from across the room as Nick shot up in his hospital bed and Bosco jumped out of his chair and ran over.

"Are you okay Mr. Carter?" He asked trying to calm the young man who was shaking now, and rocking back and forth.

"No!" He shouted as he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands... "Oh my God... Oh my God."