I wouldn't even care if I made money if Ranger could be mine, but he's not and never will be. He and the rest belong to JE.

This story was supposed to be a one-shot, but a couple people asked for more and then Ranger started hanging around my computer insisting that he had to have his say. You know how bossy and persuasive he can be. So, like it or not here is chapter 2 and..........Ranger, STOP poking me I know you haven't finished talking yet, jeez...........please excuse the interruption, there will be at least one more and maybe two chapters.

Still needs a Cupcake Warning. Still has a little language.

Back In The ER Again

by

SueB

Chapter 2

DR. WESTPHAL-----CODE BLUE-----THIRD FLOOR. DR. WESTPHAL-----CODE BLUE-----THIRD FLOOR.

Strange how hospital emergencies are always announced by a well-modulated female voice that manages to be both calm and urgent at the same time. Sounds like she is saying "Dr. we need your vast years of education and experience in order to aid this patient. SO STOP SLEEPING IN THE LOUNGE OR TAKING A CRAP AND GET YOUR ASS UP HERE RIGHT NOW!"

That was my first conscious thought.

DR. WESTPHAL-----CODE BLUE-----THIRD FLOOR. DR. WESTPHAL-----CODE BLUE-----THIRD FLOOR.

My second thought was -- the code's not for me.

And number three -- I'm in the ICU. Again. You'd think a man of my age and physical conditioning wouldn't spend this much time in intensive care. Hazard of my high risk occupation I guess.

Except, when I shifted and pain shot down my back from shoulder to butt, I remembered that this trip to the hospital didn't have anything to do with my job.

This trip was about Morelli.

Presumably the blips and lines on the machines that were wired to my body would alert the person monitoring them to the change in my condition. With any luck they would be distracted by the code, giving me a moment to myself to consider what had happened.

The short story was that I had taken a bullet for the cop. Long story? It was more complicated than that. The cop hated me and I didn't care much for him either.

Maybe it was the fact that I had been lying here for God knew how long, but I suspected thinking about Morelli wasn't helping the bad taste in my mouth.

Water would be good. I was foggy; the lights were low. I tried reaching for the nurse's call button. And couldn't move my arm. What the.......! Panic brought me a little more awake. In the room's dim twilight, I identified the problem. My hand was held captive by a riot of brown curls.

"Babe."

She stirred, releasing me and turning her head enough that I could see her face. Her brow furrowed even in sleep. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes. It took a mighty effort but, finally, I was able to gently rub my thumb across the dried track of a tear.

My last government job had ended ugly. I came back dirty. Dirtier than usual. I felt contagious and so I stayed away. She gave up her apartment and moved in with Morelli.

I hadn't touched her in a very long time. Her skin was soft and smooth.

Awakening with a sigh, she frowned until she noticed that my eyes were open.

"Ranger."

She said my name like she was starving and I was a Boston Creme. It made me smile.

Slowly and carefully so as not to hurt me, she moved until she lay across my chest. I held her to me welcoming her warm sweet weight. Her breath caught and I realized she was crying. "Oh, God," I heard her whisper as I slipped back into oblivion, "oh, God, you nearly died."

She seemed a little bit upset.

******

I was in a private room when I finally woke up with a clear head.

No Stephanie. Not holding my hand. Not curled tightly against my side with her arm thrown protectively across my body. No sign of her. Nada.

My eyes swept the terrain. I would have sworn she was here, but the view just wasn't the same. Tank sat in the chair where she had been. He was napping.

"Report!" I spit out, my voice croaking from disuse.

He jumped, reaching for his gun.

"Fuck, Rangeman," he cried when he realized what was what. "You tryin' to get yourself shot?"

Chagrined by his ill-chosen words, he muttered, "Ah, hell, welcome back." He'd have flushed if he'd been able.

I didn't ask and Tank volunteered nothing on Steph's whereabouts. Maybe her presence had been a drug induced hallucination. God, I hated being medicated.

"I need to get the hell out of here," I said.

I sat up, swung my legs around and eased out of the bed, grimacing. It was harder than I had anticipated.

"Maybe that's not such a great idea," Tank offered when he saw my face. Before he had a chance to call for the nurse, his cell phone rang.

He answered, "Yo," then closed his eyes, scowled and shook his head.

Something wasn't right here. My gut clenched.

"Damn it Tank! Talk to me," I demanded.

In answer he stalked over to the room's tiny cupboard, pulled out a pair of black sweat pants and tossed them to me.

"Better put these on," he said. "You're getting company."

I raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I had Hal and Manny on Morelli. He gave them the slip," he said. "He was drunk and disorderly in the lobby and now, looks like he's on his way up here."

My days and nights were jumbled. The clock on the wall said 6:42. It was sunny out. Must be morning. "Little early in the day for drunk isn't it?" I asked.

Tank shrugged. "All depends, I guess."

I didn't like this at all. He wasn't offering anything. I was going to have to ask.

"If Morelli's here, Tank, where's Stephanie?"

His deep rough voice came out softly. "She stayed by you, Rangeman, the whole time, but she was done in. She fell out of the chair 'bout two a.m. this morning. I had Bobby take her home."

Home. These days home was with the cop. I repeated, "So where is she?"

He glanced up but couldn't hold my gaze. His eyes slid away.

"You mean right this minute?"

"Yeah, that's what I mean, right this minute."

He blew out a big deep breath finally admitting, "I don't know."

"You..............don't...............know? Christ!" I said, my voice rising. "What's going on? I'm off a couple of days and RangeMan goes to shit! My men can't keep tabs on one lousy drunken cop and you lose sight of my woma................"

Whoa! Stop! She wasn't my woman. I'd made sure of it. Although I knew my men, most of Trenton and, from the sounds of it, maybe even Morelli thought she was.

Heart pounding, legs shaking, I braced my hands against the bed for support. I wanted to blame my body's betrayal on the recent bullet in my back, but I suspected that was only a fraction of the reason.

I swallowed hard trying to get myself back under control. I deserved recrimination but Tank's face showed only concern.

"I'm sorry," I got out. "That wasn't fair."

He laid a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Rangeman. All your lame excuses.........your actions talk louder. She is your woman. She knows it; you know it. You're just too hard headed to admit it. We all see it. Yeah, even Morelli, maybe especially Morelli," he continued when I started to contradict him. "Why else would he be drunk at seven in the morning? The heart has eyes which the brain knows nothing of."

"You picked a hell of time to go all philosophical on me," I mumbled.

"Well, well," slurred a familiar but unwelcome voice, "lookie here; Sleepin' Beauty's awake at last."

Joe Morelli took an awkward unsteady step into my room.

TBC