A/N: This chapter gave me hell and I couldn't have got through it without help and support from Beth and Trish. Cheers, ladies.
When my alarm went of at 5.30 AM it woke me with a start. It had been past 2.00 AM when I made it to bed. I groaned and turned the damn thing off. There was nothing going on that couldn't wait till 7.00 AM. I rolled over and cuddled up to the warm body beside me.
"What time is it?" Bailey mumbled.
"Early. Go back to sleep," I replied.
"I hate you. You've fucked up my body clock," she growled.
"It's not my fault you're nocturnal," I said, poking her in the shoulder.
"It's not my fault I do my best work after midnight," she protested.
"You seemed to be doing some very good work yesterday afternoon," I teased.
"Fuck off, Ric."
"I'd much rather fuck you, amante."
I pulled her close and rubbed my morning erection against her hip.
"Go stick that somewhere else. I'm not interested," she grumbled, pulling the duvet over her head and rolling over.
"I'm sure you just need a little convincing," I purred, sliding a hand round her rib cage to cup one of her breasts, rolling the nipple between my finger and thumb.
"And I'm sure if you know what's good for you, you'll stop doing that. There's a knife under my pillow and I'm not afraid to use it"
I laughed. "Only you, baby."
I gave up on it and spooned her body, closed my eyes and began to drift. A shrill beeping noise made us both jump. My pager.
"For fucks sake," Bailey growled, burying her head under the pillow.
I grabbed my pager off the nightstand and checked the read out. Fuck. It was a 911 from Bobby; Lester was having another melt down. In seconds I was out of bed and pulling on yesterday's combats. I stuffed my feet into my Bates boots and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, tugging it on as I strode from my bedroom.
"What's going on?" I heard Bailey yell.
"Lester!" I shouted over my shoulder as I yanked open my apartment door. I pounded down three flights of stairs and flew into the fourth floor hallway like a bat out of hell.
Tank stood outside Lester's room; Bobby was nowhere in sight. Loud crashing noises where coming from Lester's apartment. I looked at Tank.
"He just lost it, man. I've no idea what set him off. Bobby's gone to get a med kit and something to sedate him with." Tank said.
I nodded, stepped round him and pushed Lester's door open. Bobby was right; this place was trashed. Lester turned to face me and I hardly recognized the man before me. His face was twisted with rage and his eyes were empty and soulless.
"You let him die, you bastard," he screamed.
"I know, Les. I'm sorry," I said quietly. We'd learned over the years to talk softly to him when he got like this. For some reason it seemed to get through to him. It worked the other day, but it wasn't working today.
"You were late. If you hadn't taken so long to rescue us then he'd still be here. You're scum, just like the guys that killed him," he roared.
His words cut me deep and he was right, it was my fault. I blamed myself just as much as Lester did. The only difference was that I dealt with it in less obvious ways.
"I fucking hate you," he yelled and ran at me.
I tried to brace for the impact of Lester smashing into me, but he was like a man possessed. He slammed into me with such force that I flew the 4feet across the corridor and smacked the back of my head off Vince's apartment door. I slid down the woodwork and hit the floor with a thump. Tank stepped in swiftly and pulled Les away while I gingerly picked myself up.
Tank mashed Lester up against the opposite wall and twisted an arm behind his back, putting pressure on the elbow joint. Lester yelped in pain but didn't stop struggling and cursing.
Bobby chose that moment to return, med kit in hand. He looked from me to Tank and Lester. "What the hell happened?" he demanded.
"Lester thought I might like to get a little better acquainted with Vince's door. No harm done," I told him.
Lester let out a string of expletives and tried to maneuver enough to kick Tank, but he was fighting a losing battle. The big guy had too much size and strength over him.
Bobby looked at Lester again. "Les, I'm going to give you something to help calm you down." He removed a syringe from the box at his feet and advanced on his partner.
Lester renewed his struggling and was in serious danger of breaking his arm if he didn't stop. I could see Tank's hold on him slipping as he was thinking the same thing. "Damn it, man. You're gonna hurt yourself," he growled, trying to use more of his own weight to pin Lester to the wall.
Bobby tried to get a grip on Lester's free arm so he could inject him, but couldn't get close enough. "Christ, Tank. Hold him still," he yelled.
"Just fucking stun him," Tank spat back.
"I can't stun him and then sedate him, you idiot. For Christ's sake Ric! Get your ass over here and help," Bobby snarled.
I shook off my shock and stepped in to help. Lester was strong; 6"3' of solid muscle. When he got like this he was damned near impossible to control without hurting him. Tank managed to grab hold of his other arm so I could capture the one he had just come so near to breaking and we managed to kick his feet out from under him and wrestle him to the floor. Lester was hysterical now, tears streaming down his face and soaking into the hall carpet, but at least we had immobilized him. Tank was using most of his body weight to hold his body down, while I was pinning his arms. Bobby knelt down next to his head and pulled the cap of the syringe off with his teeth.
A loud thud at the end of the hall made us all look up. The door had been thrown open with such force that it had smacked into the wall. Bailey was stood in the doorway and she looked pissed. Her green eyes were wide and filled with anger. "Stad! Na dean sin!" she yelled.
"What the fuck?" Bobby snarled. "This doesn't concern you, Lee"
She advanced down the hall, her bare feet making no sound on the floor. "Dun do bheal!" she growled at Bobby.
She stopped directly in front of us. "Can I help you?" I asked her, confused at her outburst. What the fuck was she doing interfering?
"In the name of the gods, Ric! What the hell are you doing?"
"Lee, he's sick. He needs help," Bobby answered for me.
"I agree that he's sick. I agree that he needs help. But this is not helping," she ground out.
I looked back at Les. He had finally stopped struggling, but was still crying. Bobby still had the syringe in his hand, but was hesitating.
"Little girl," Tank responded. "He won't go for counseling. There's nothing we can do for him anymore."
"Bollocks!" She spat. "Look at him. Look what you are doing to him."
She was so mad. I don't think I had ever seen her like this. She put a hand on her hip and rounded on Bobby, poking him in the chest. "You of all people should know better. You were there. You know what he went through."
"What the fuck do you know?" Bobby yelled at her. "I didn't see you there in that godforsaken shit hole. Why don't you just piss off back to Boston? We don't need you here. I'm sure Ric can find someone else to screw."
Bobby rocked back on his knees as Bailey's fist connected with his jaw. "What the fuck do I know?" she growled.
She snapped then. "I know that a man I care about often wakes up in the night in a cold sweat, unsure of where the hell he is and sometimes goes as far as pulling a gun on me because he thinks I'm the enemy. And I know that his own cousin is scared to sleep at night because when he closes his eyes all he can see is his dead brother. What about you, Bobby? How well do you sleep at night?"
"Bitch!" he hissed at her.
She shrugged. "Yeah, and? What concerns me at this moment is your partner, the man who trusts you to watch his back. Ask yourself this: If the roles were reversed would you want him to do this to you?"
Bobby looked down at Lester, spread-eagled and pinned to the floor. Hell, I didn't know about Bobby, but I was feeling pretty shitty myself right now. "Fuck!" he yelled and threw the syringe across the hall.
Tank and I looked at each other and we both let go of Lester, who instinctively rolled onto his side and curled up into the fetal position. Bobby reached out to smooth the hair out of his partner's face, but Lester shrunk from his touch. Bobby snatched his hand away as if he had been burned.
Bailey dropped down to the floor and sat by Lester's head. She gave Bobby a sympathetic look as she brushed Lester's hair behind his ear. She looked up at me. "Ric, can you go see if my quilt is still in Les' room? And if so, can you bring it out here for me?"
I left them all in the hall and went into Lester's room. The whole place was wrecked. Furniture had been overturned, cabinets emptied and there were a couple of holes in the wall where it looked like he had put his fist through the plasterboard. Surprisingly, the quilt was still on the sofa and looked unscathed.
Lester hadn't moved when I returned. As I draped the blanket over him I noticed the damage he had done to himself. His right hand was bloody and his left forearm was cut up.
"Hey, Sweetie," Bailey said in a quiet voice, "You can't stay here in the hall forever. Why don't we go to Bob's room for a bit so we can get you cleaned up? Can you sit up for me, honey?"
Lester didn't move. "It's o.k. Les, don't worry. There's no rush," she soothed. She gently picked his injured hand up and he hissed in pain. "Sweetie, Bobby needs to look at your hand. He's not going to hurt you."
Bobby reached out and gently took Lester's hand out of Bailey's and started to look it over. Lester snatched his hand away almost immediately and Bobby stiffened slightly at the reaction from his friend. "Tank, could you get me an ice pack from my kit?" He asked. He returned his attention back to Lester's hand. "Bro, can you move your fingers for me?"
Lester wiggled his fingers and Bobby seemed happy. "I don't think anything is broken, buddy. The ice will keep the swelling down. Do you want me to get you some Advil?"
Lester shook his head.
"And his arm?" Bailey asked.
I watched as Bobby looked it over, but didn't touch the wounds. It looked self-inflicted to me: four long deep looking gashes running from his elbow to half way down his forearm.
"How'd you do this, bro?" Tank asked.
Lester remained silent.
"This needs stitching." Bobby said, as he accepted the now cold emergency ice pack from Tank and placed it against Lester's damaged hand.
"No." Lester whispered.
"Les, I need to stitch this, please." Bobby pressed.
"I don't want you to touch me." Lester murmured.
Bobby looked heart-broken. Bailey touched him gently on the arm and leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Bobby nodded.
"Les, it's a mess. We need to get this taken care of." Bailey said.
Lester didn't respond.
"What about if I do it and Bobby helps? Would that be o.k?" she asked.
Lester remained silent, but after a while he nodded.
As soon as Lester accepted the help there was a subtle change in Bailey's body language. She went from calm and soothing to dominant and professional in the blink of an eye. "Lester, we need to move you. I'm not stitching you up in the hallway."
She looked over at Tank. "Can you help me move him, big guy?"
Tank nodded.
Lester started to protest as Tank bent down to pick him up in his arms.
"Look at me Lester. Do I look like I can pick your ass up off the floor?" she snapped at him.
Scary woman. She'd turned into someone's mother right before my eyes. She followed Tank down the hallway and into Bobby's apartment.
Bobby scrubbed his hands over his face. "Man, I've got a bitch of a headache coming on. Can this day get any worse?"
"Shit, Bobby. Did you have to say that? You've fucking done it now, man," I chastised him.
Bobby just laughed.
It took Bailey over an hour to clean up Lester's wounds and stitch him up. She worked slowly and methodically and with a definite air of someone who knew what they were doing. Bobby sat close, but never interfered. I guess her work was good enough. Apart from refusing any pain meds, Lester remained silent and sullen through out the entire process.
I cornered Bailey out in the kitchen as she was making coffee. "Hey," I said.
She looked up at me and turned away.
"Still pissed at us?" I asked.
"Yeah, a little."
When in doubt, change the subject. "You did a really good job stitching him up. I didn't know you could do that."
"Had a lot of practice," she muttered.
"I didn't know that."
"Yeah, well…"
"Want to talk about it, Lee?"
"No, not really."
"If you change your mind…"
"I doubt it, but thanks anyway, Ric"
I turned her around to face me and rested my hands on her hips. "There is no price, remember that."
She nodded. "Look, I'm sorry for acting like such a bitch. I was angry."
"And you were right. We were handling the situation badly."
"Do you mind if I sit in with Les this morning?"
"No, why should I mind?"
"Those files still need sorting, that's all."
"I think we can handle that. Right now he needs you more than we do."
"Thanks, Ric."
She grabbed her coffee and padded back into the bedroom.
I fixed myself a cup of coffee and leant against the counter. What a fucking mess. I needed to get Lester's room sorted. I'd call Ella at a slightly more reasonable hour and get her to deal with it. That woman was a Godsend. I had no doubt that this building would fall apart of she wasn't here to look after us.
"There any coffee left?" Bobby asked as he walked out of his bedroom.
"Sure."
"What the fuck we gonna do with Les, man?" he said with a sigh.
I really had no idea. I shrugged, "You're the medic, you tell me."
"I'm all out of ideas, Ric."
"Bailey's gonna keep an eye on him this morning. You never know, he might talk to her."
"I fucking hope so, I just want him back the way he was."
"Don't we all, Bobby."
"Can you even remember the "old" Lester?"
"Yeah," I said with a smile. "Care free, a wicked sense of humor, dependable and a good man to have at your back."
"And now he's just…"
"Troubled, quiet and a fucking liability," I muttered.
By 7AM I was showered and sorted and ready to face the day. Right now I was sitting in my office with the guys, going through paperwork. The plan was to sort it in order of threat. The more dirt we had on someone, the higher up the pile it went. It was slow going, trying to match the kids to their parents by their weird screen names, but by late morning we had finished. We were just putting the last of the files in order when my cell rang.
"I've got a funny feeling about this," Bobby said.
The caller I.D was showing unknown again. Winter? No I doubt it. Maybe Bobby was right.
I hit the accept button. "Talk."
"Captain Manoso, I see your phone manners have not improved with time."
It took me a couple of seconds to place the voice: General Ellis, the man behind Phoenix. "There a reason for this call, General Ellis? Or did you just call to teach me proper phone etiquette?" I demanded, dropping his name into the conversation so the guys could find his file.
"We have a little job for you. Meeting at H.Q on Friday at 11.00 hours. You will be there."
"No."
"This is not optional, Manoso."
"I said no. You can fax me the details over and I'll work on it from here. If you want to talk to me then you can come here and do it face to face."
"I don't think you are grasping the situation properly. You will be there, that is an order."
Bobby and Junior were rifling through the piles of paper looking for the file on Ellis. Bobby struck gold, flipped the file open and started writing on the white board on the far wall.
"Ask him how Martha is," he wrote.
I smiled. Martha was his Mistress. "Have you seen Martha recently, General Ellis?" I asked.
"I don't know what you are talking about."
Bobby was jotting down all the key bits from his file. I quickly read through them.
"Oh, come now, General. Martha, your mistress. The woman you meet every Tuesday while your wife thinks you are playing tennis."
"What do you want?"
"I want the mission details faxed over so I can go through them with the team I will be taking with me."
"This is a solo mission."
"Correction. It was a solo mission."
"I'm not agreeing to this. You will not blackmail me."
"Is your youngest still in re-hab?"
"How do you know this?"
"Oh, I have my ways. You'd be amazed at the information I have sitting in front of me, General. Why don't I fax you over a little bit of it and then you can decide if you are going to let me have those details. It would be such a shame for all this information to fall into the wrong hands. You have an hour, Ellis and then I'll start talking." I hung up and let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
I jotted a number down onto a scrap of paper and handed it to Junior. "Pick out a dozen files and fax them to this number," I said.
"Then what?" he asked.
"We wait."
Junior selected a handful of files and left the room.
"But what if they don't go for it?" Bobby queried.
I sighed. "We just hope to God they do."
Every time the fax machine had whirred into life we'd all tensed up. As the minutes ticked by the tension level rose. Finally, with 7 minutes to spare we hit the jackpot. Page after page spewed out of the machine. It seemed to take an eternity. I picked the pile up to go through it, but Bobby snatched it out of my hand.
"Give it back," I growled. I was not in the mood for playing games.
"We all want to read it, Ric. I'm going to photocopy it otherwise we'll end up with a riot in Tank's office. Phone Les and Lee. They'll want to read it too."
I followed him to the copier and collected the original pages as they were finished with. He gathered up the copies and we went to see what my fate was.
Tank was behind his desk when we walked in; Junior sat on the sofa. Bobby handed them copies of the mission just as Lester and Bailey appeared in the doorway. Lester looked a little better now, if you ignored his bruised hand and sliced up arm. I settled into the guest chair and skimmed the bulk of the first few pages until I got to the main details of the mission. Fuck.
Bailey was talking to me, but I couldn't hear what she was saying because of the roaring in my ears. I leaned forward, put my head between my knees and tried to remember how to breathe. Madre de Dios, this mission was impossible alone and the odds of pulling it off with a team were not much better. Someone in the government really wanted me dead.
"Ric!" Tank was calling out.
Someone shook my shoulder.
"I think he's in shock." That was Bobby.
Tank spoke again. "Junior, filling cabinet; it's under F."
I heard the metal drawer slide out on its runners and then shut with a clang.
"Why's the Jack filed under F, Tank." Junior again.
"It's filed under F for FUBAR."
Damn right. Someone pushed the bottle into my hands and I sat up and took a long swig of the smooth bourbon.
"You o.k. man?" Lester asked.
"I will be when I've had some more of this," I replied.
I took another swig of Jack Daniels and then handed it to Tank before I finished off the whole damned bottle.
I looked over at Bailey. She looked like I felt, bloody awful. She offered me a weak smile. "Could have been worse."
"Could it? Can you think of any more horrifying ways to die than that?" I nodded toward the files I had dropped on the floor.
"Given time, yeah."
"Well, we haven't got time." I snapped. "Because of the stunt we just pulled, they moved the mission start time. Instead of giving me till Monday to get my shit together we have until Friday morning to get there and start getting inside this group of nutcases."
"Tank, call a meeting for every available guy we've got at 6.00 PM. We're going to need all the help we can get verifying the information they've sent us. I don't trust a word of the Intel they've sent through," Bailey ordered.
Tank made a move to pick up the phone.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I growled. "I'm the boss."
Tank gave me his 'don't fuck with me' look. "Actually Ric, I'm in charge. You're off line and I happen to agree with
every word my partner's just said."
"I'm in charge!" I yelled, jumping to my feet.
"I'm not listening to you, Ricardo. I want you off this floor until 6.00 PM. If you don't leave then I will force you."
"Move, Ric." Bailey hissed.
I glared at her. "Make me."
I never saw the left hook she threw at my jaw, but I fucking felt it. The impact made me stagger backwards. She stepped behind me and put a boot to the back of my knee, sending me crashing to the floor.
"Do I need to stun you?" she added as she stepped away.
"No." I replied, rolling onto my back. Shit that hurt. I'd just been taken out by a woman half my size; I was really off my game. I was a fucking liability right now.
Tank stepped forward and offered me a hand up. "Go on, man. We've got you covered," he said giving me a concerned glance.
The control room went silent as I walked out of the door. God knows how much they heard. I was half way to the elevator when Steph approached me.
"Ranger, can I have a word?"
"Not now, babe." I really didn't care what she wanted. Right now I just wanted to be left alone for five minutes so I could get my head round this mission. It was scaring the crap out of me and I was sure that I wouldn't make it back alive if we didn't come up with a fucking good plan.
"Ranger…"
"Damn it, Stephanie. I said not now," I yelled.
The entire floor was staring at me. Shit. Tank stepped in and steered a tearful Steph into his office and shut the door. Fuck. Can this day get any worse?
Gaelic translations:
"Stad! Na dean sin!" Stop, don't do that
"Dun do bheal!" Shut your mouth
