Warning: This section contains discussion of and planning for permanent birth control. If such things offend you, you might want to skip this chapter, as well as the rest of this story. This will come up more than once. Also, this is an angsty chapter.
Tuesday morning, eight o'clock…
I've kept myself focused on Steph's face, avoiding the small curtain they've hung across her chest, separating the medical team from her and me. I studiously avoid looking at their faces.
Steph's eyes are closed, but when I talk to her, she responds to me, squeezing my hand or rubbing it with her thumb. I speak to her softly, nonstop. I want to make sure she's aware that I'm still here. Every once in a while, I say something she really likes and she smiles a little or opens her eyes. When she does that, I lean forward and gently kiss her head.
Other than the sound of my voice, the OR is quiet. Only the occasional electronic beep from a machine or the clink of surgical tools can be heard over my voice.
"Just about done now. I just need to close the incision," Dr. Stein announces. Thank God. This is almost over. So far, so good.
I hear the faint hiss of sutures being pulled through skin. Almost there. So close.
All Hell breaks loose. Alarms start screaming. The Exit sign above the doors flashes frantically. The PA system crackles to life. "Please remain calm. There is a fire in the building. If you are able, please proceed to the nearest exit in a calm and orderly fashion. Staff, please check your floor and verify that all fire doors are closed and follow emergency protocols." The message repeats over and over. Jesus Christ. This would only happen with Steph in the OR.
"Mr. Manoso, I'm down to two sutures. If there is a fire in this wing, we will be notified. We're not leaving this room until we're sure it's safe." Dr. Stein's voice is barely audible over the screaming alarm, his tone conversational, calm, soothing. It does not have the desired effect on me.
I look toward the OR doors. They're not fire doors. There are windows in them, and I can see my men from the waiting room gathering outside the door. Their very presence reassures me, even as it frightens me. If they're here and not in the waiting room, something is most likely going on.
"We're done, Mr. Manoso. I'm going to see if I can find out what's going on."
"I think you can poke your head out the door and get the answers you're after, Doc," I respond. He looks over at the door and visibly pales.
"Who are they?" he asks.
"They're mine." That's all he's going to get from me.
He walks over to the door and cracks it open. Tank and Hector approach the door and speak to the doc. I can't hear what's being said over the alarm.
"Ranger?"
"Yeah, Babe."
"Wass goin' on?"
"Not sure."
"I hear sirens." I know she does. Hell, everyone does.
"You do, Babe." Better to simply acknowledge the noise.
"Oh. Dreaming…"
"Not dreaming, Babe." Only she would think fire alarms were a dream.
Dr. Stein turns away from the door, looking like someone just kicked him in the nuts. "There's actually a fire," he squeaks out.
I knew it. "Where?"
"The kitchen… It's on the floor below us…"
You have got to be fucking kidding me. Jesus Christ. I walk over to the door and crack it open. "Ranger. There's a fire." Tank's face is as strained as his voice.
"I heard. Get a private ambulance here now. Get a private nurse to meet us at home. We're leaving now." Tank nods and pulls out his cell.
I close the door and return to Steph. "Gonna be leaving in a few minutes, Babe."
"'Kay.."
I turn to Dr. Stein. "I need all of her paperwork ready now. Pull the IV or set it up so it can go with us. I'm taking her home."
"She can't leave yet. The anesthetic hasn't worn off. She'll be safe here. We can just let her recover..."
"Consider her signed out AMA. Do you know who she is?" I point at Steph.
"She's Stephanie Manoso," he answers proudly.
"She used to be Stephanie Plum. She is the Bombshell Bounty Hunter."
"Goddamn!" Not very professional, I think. Dr. Stein goes to the intercom system on the wall and issues orders. Less than a minute later, there's a knock on the door. The door opens and the receptionist hands in a stack of papers and the bag with Steph's clothes. Dr. Stein thrusts the papers at me. "Discharge instructions. Things to watch for. Prescription for Tylenol with Codeine. Follow up appointment." While he's explaining, the nurse has removed the IV bag from the pole and fed the tubing through the sleeve of the Johnny. She tells me what to do with the bag and how to get her dressed with the IV in place. The bag of clothing is handed to me. There's no way I can get her dressed alone, she's too out of it.
"Send in Hector," I order the nurse. She leaves the room. Hector comes in. We get her dressed.
The nurse returns with a wheelchair. I look at her blankly. "She won't be able to stand until the epidural wears off," she explains. Shit.
Hector and I get Steph into the wheel chair and head for the doors. Tank meets us. "No ambulances available. We pulled a Bronco up to the door and laid down the back seat."
"Wait!" the nurse calls. She opens a door and pulls out an armload of blankets. "Put her on these. It will be softer for her."
Hector takes the blankets and thanks her. He bolts for the door. Except for Tank, the rest of the guys follow him. I look at him, silently asking why he's staying with us.
"Elevators are shut down. Gotta take the stairs."
I hadn't thought of that. At least we only have to get her down one flight of stairs.
Somehow, we make it to the first floor and outside to the waiting Bronco. I hear the wail of emergency vehicle sirens. I can see lights from cruisers and fire trucks coming down the street. Took them long enough. At least we'll be able to get her out of here before the reporters arrive. There's no doubt in my mind they'd have a field day with this. I can imagine the headlines now. BOMBSHELL BOUNTY HUNTER CAUSES HOSPITAL FIRE!
Lester is behind the wheel of the Bronco. The tailgate and rear window are open. Hector has lined the cargo area with blankets. Tank and I load Steph as carefully as we can. I get into the back with her after handing Hector the keys to the Mercedes. The back of the SUV is closed. We pull away just as the first emergency vehicles drive up. Thankfully, they can't see into the back of the Bronco.
The ride back to Haywood is both quiet and uneventful. Lester backs the Bronco up to the elevator. Juan is waiting for us with an office chair. Hector must have called him. Juan opens the back of the Bronco.
"Get in the chair. Hold her so she doesn't fall." Without thinking, I obey Juan. I'm too worried to argue right now. I just want to get her upstairs and into bed. Juan and Lester use the blankets to pull Steph onto the tailgate and gently move her into my lap. I hold her securely against me as the elevator rises.
"Where's the nurse, Lester?"
"Tank called the agency and requested their best nurse. She lives just outside of Trenton and doesn't drive. I sent someone for her."
"Who?"
Lester looks nervous. "Morelli. He's got lights and sirens to get her here faster." He's looking at his feet. I know he thinks I'm going to pitch a fit.
"Find space on the fourth floor for the nurse. Make sure this doesn't cause Morelli and problems with the department."
Lester looks up. "I'll take care of it."
We finally get to our apartment. Ella is there, waiting for us at the door. We're wheeled in. Steph is transferred from my lap to the bed. Ella shoos Lester and Juan into the living room so she and I can get Steph into a t-shirt and shorts. We use a push pin to hang the IV bag. By the time she's changed and tucked in, Hector and the rest of my guys have arrived.
"How is she?" Hector asks.
"Remarkably calm," I answer. She hasn't said a word since she asked about the alarms in the OR. I know that part of her complacency is the sedatives, but the biggest part is trust. She knows that I'll do anything to keep her safe, and so will everyone else around here. She knows we only do what's best for her. She knows we'll take care of her, no matter what.
"Good." Yeah, it is good. It's also a little frightening when someone puts as much trust and faith in you as she puts in me. In us. In Hector. In my men.
Tank pokes his head in the room. "Control room just called me. Morelli and the nurse are here."
"Go get her, please."
"What about Morelli?"
"Explain, briefly. Thank him for me. Tell him I'll have Steph call when she's awake. If there's a problem, I'll call him myself. If he gives you static let him come up."
Tank leaves without another word. In the meantime, Lester, Bobby, Hal, Junior, Cal and Juan have filtered into the bedroom. I vaguely remember a time when not one of them would have dared to enter this room. I don't have the heart to thrown them out. They're just worried about her.
The rest of my off duty staff is in the living room. I don't have the heart to throw them out either. I can hear someone talking to the control room, promising further updates on her condition.
"I'm going to be sick," comes a barely audible voice from the bed. I sit her up, planning to pick her up and make a run for the bathroom. As soon as I get her upright, she starts heaving. Unfortunately, Hector can't get a trash can in front of her face fast enough, so she vomits on the comforter. She throws up twice, then starts to sniffle. "Ugh. I hate to throw up."
Hector and I clean Steph up while Bobby strips the comforter off the bed and calls for Ella to get a clean one.
"This paper says the anesthesia will probably cause vomiting." Bobby is holding up a piece of paper.
"I think we can safely say it will cause vomiting." Lester is looking a little green as he says this. Jesus, I hope he doesn't puke. He usually does when he sees someone else get sick.
"Lester, get out if you're gonna hurl." Steph's watching Lester. Her voice is remarkably strong as she throws him out.
"I'll be fine." He's fighting for control and winning. I hope.
I hear my front door open. A minute later, Tank appears with a small woman. The woman is not quite five feet tall and can't weigh more than eighty or so pounds. She doesn't look old enough to be a nurse. The expression on her face as she stares at the men standing in the bedroom can only be described as terror.
"Hello. I'm Ranger and this is Stephanie. Bobby is the man holding all of the discharge paperwork."
No response. I repeat myself. Still nothing. I look at Tank. "Does she speak English?"
Tank shrugs at me. Great. I try Spanish. French. Italian. Portuguese. Nothing. The woman isn't even looking at me. Her frantic gaze is going from one man to the next. I open my mouth to throw them out when Hal steps forward. "She's deaf," he says to me.
"Deaf? How do you know?" I take a deep breath. Can this day become any more complicated?
"Tag on her scrubs." I look over. Sure enough, there's a tag that says I LIP READ. I run a hand over my face. Christ. Well, at least she won't be disturbed by the noise in this building. "I'll talk to her." I'm not sure I heard that right. Did Hal just offer to talk to a woman?
Hal's mother died when he was an infant. He was raised by his father and his uncle, both of whom were in the military. When he was old enough for school, he was sent to an all-boys boarding school, were he remained until he graduated and joined the military. Hal is, to say the least, unsure of women. He fears women. His experiences with Steph have only deepened that fear. He has no experience with women at all. For him to volunteer to speak to a woman is nothing short of a miracle.
He walks over to her, holding out his hand. Her gaze rests on him and stays there. "I'm Hal." He's careful to make sure she's looking at him while he speaks. "What is your name?"
I can see that she's frightened but determined. She takes his hand. "Heather." Her voice has the flat, slightly odd inflection of a deaf person.
Hal points to me. "Ranger Manoso." He points to Steph. "Stephanie Manoso, your patient." He points to Hector. "Hector. Steph's partner."
Heather looks a little confused by the last introduction, but she barely looks at me and Hector, focusing on Steph. "What's going on here?"
Hal explains to her, taking all of the paperwork from Bobby and giving it to Heather. When Hal finishes his report, she reads through the paperwork. She pulls out the prescription and holds it out to Hal. "This needs to be filled. Now." It's an order. Hal takes it and looks to me.
"Lester can you go fill that?" I ask him, figuring there's going to be more vomiting and he's going to want to miss that part. Sure enough, he takes the prescription from Hal looking as though he's just been paroled from death row.
Steph starts heaving again. I hold her over the trashcan. Hector holds her hair back. "Ugh. I really hate to throw up."
"How long ago did she have the epidural?" Heather asks Hal.
Hal looks at me. "Quarter to seven."
He repeats the time to Heather, who looks at her watch. Her jaw drops. "Who sent her home before it wore off?" she demands.
Hal explains Steph's career, her dislike of being on the news, and the fire in the hospital. Heather rolls her eyes. It's so much like when Steph does it that I chuckle. "Is she a Burg girl, Hal?"
Hal looks confused but asks the question. Heather shakes her head and looks confused, too. Guess she's not.
Heather takes charge then. She settles me on the bed, my back against the headboard. Hal and Tank carefully move Steph so that she's leaning back against me. If she vomits again, I can simply lean forward with her. Hector is sent to flush the contents of the trash can. When it's empty, he and Juan crawl up onto the foot of the bed. Chairs are dragged in from the dining room for the guys to sit on. Hal pulls the recliner in from the living room for Heather. I suppress a smile at that as he places it as close to the bed as possible. Heather smiles at him and sits down. Hal looks like he's just had the wind knocked out of him.
"Hal, how long until the meds wear off?" I don't ask how long the vomiting will continue. There's no point.
Hal turns to Heather and asks her. She shrugs. "At least another hour. Once it wears off, we'll give her clear liquids."
"I'll get some broth and ginger ale." With that, Ella's gone.
Steph chooses that moment to vomit again. Hector slides the trash can in front of Steph to catch the vomit. When we're back to dry heaves, Heather gets up and goes to flushes the sick away.
The cycle continues into the afternoon. In between rounds of emptying her stomach, Steph dozes on my chest. Ella returns with ginger ale and chicken broth. No one leaves the apartment. Aside from Lester and Ella running to get things occasionally, no one enters the apartment, either. Phone calls are made from cells, updating the control room staff, who, in turn, notifying the on-duty field staff. No phone calls to the apartment are answered – especially ones from her mother. Outside this building, no one other than Morelli knows about the tubal ligation surgery. Had we not needed the nurse, Morelli wouldn't know. This is how Steph wanted it.
At one o'clock, feeling returns to Steph's feet. We know this because she starts griping about pins and needles instead of dozing between rounds of emptying her stomach.
As soon as the pins and needles have subsided, Heather removes the IV and gives the order to walk her to the bathroom. Tank lifts Steph out of bed and sets her on her feet. Hector and I each slide a hand under one of her arms. We make our way to the bathroom with agonizing slowness. It feels like ten miles instead of ten feet.
We settle her on the toilet and leave her alone with Heather. We shut the bathroom door behind us.
"Jesus. You'd think her stomach would be empty by now. She hasn't had anything to eat since five yesterday," I say, disbelieving. There are nods of agreement throughout the room. "Any problems?" I ask Tank.
"None. Morelli said he's glad she's your problem on days like this. Call him if you need anything else."
Chuckles. "Thanks. I appreciate this."
"Not a problem."
"Anytime."
"Anything, any reason, anytime.."
"Nice break from work."
"She's always fun."
A couple of embarrassed grunts.
"Someone order up some Pino's for everybody. You know that's what she'll want."
"I'll do it," Lester volunteers. I know he's feeling bad because the vomiting is getting to him. "I'll bring her Tastykakes, too."
"Thanks."
Wednesday morning, four o'clock…
The apartment is finally quiet and mostly empty. Except Hal and Hector, the guys cleared out by ten last night. I'm the only one still awake. Steph is still reclining against my chest. I'm still sitting with my back to the headboard. Heather is sleeping in the recliner, under a blanket Hal covered her with. Hector and Juan are sprawled across the foot of the bed. Hal is on the floor between the bed and the dressing room.
Nothing like a little privacy in our bedroom, I think.
Steph was sick to her stomach all afternoon. She couldn't hold down ginger ale or chicken broth. Heather had reinserted an IV to replenish fluids around five last night. The vomiting continued until nine or so. When it finally stopped, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Heather had stayed here instead of going to the fourth floor for the night to monitor the IV fluids. Hal had stayed because it was clear to everyone that Heather was most comfortable with him. Hector stayed because Steph belongs to him, too, and he wasn't about to leave her. Juan stayed for Hector as much as he stayed for Steph.
Once again, I think of how chaotic my life has become. I used to have everything under control. Life was exciting, but most everything went the way I wanted it to, or at least worked out that way in the end. Since I decided that I wanted Steph in my life, the best I can hope for is controlled chaos.
I love every minute of it.
The flipside of that coin is the feeling of family I now possess. Without her, I would not have that. Without her, my men would not have that. Without her, some of my men would have no family at all. She draws everyone around her close and gives us all a sense of belonging. It means that, in some ways, I don't have her all to myself. She's not the kind of woman you can contain.
I wouldn't trade this – her - for anything.
"Ranger?" Steph whispers.
"Yeah Babe?"
"Nature's screaming."
"Okay."
Steph scoots to the edge of the bed. I grab the bag of IV fluids and help her to the bathroom. "Oh… That's so much better," she moans.
"Why didn't you say something sooner?"
"I didn't want to wake anyone."
I sigh. "You didn't." I don't think I've had a solid night's sleep since the day I met her. I'm not complaining.
"I'm sorry." Her voice is hesitant.
"For what?"
"I'm sorry I puked all damned day. I'm sorry that my very existence caused a fire at the hospital. I'm sorry that…"
I hold up my hand to silence her. "Babe. Not your fault."
"I'm still sorry," she mumbles.
"How are you feeling?" Best to change the subject now, before the tears start.
"My stomach hurts." I'll bet.
"That all?"
"I think so. You can send the nurse home when she wakes up."
"Babe. I think you need Heather a few more days."
She looks bewildered. "Why? If it wasn't for the fire and the epidural, I wouldn't have needed one anyway."
"Hal needs her."
Comprehension dawns and she breaks into a grin. "I think having Heather around for a few more days is a good idea. Of course, I'll need Hal, too…."
She catches on quick. No grass growing there. "Done, Babe?"
She nods. "I need ice cream. Let's go to the kitchen."
"Babe." Of course she needs ice cream.
Steph walks out ahead of me. She stops dead as she reaches the door to the living room. I walk into her back. "Hey!"
"Sorry." I look around to see what made her stop. Ah. There's the problem. Lester, Tank, and Bobby. Obviously, they didn't actually leave the apartment earlier. They're lined up on the couch like ducks, side by side, sleeping, with their feet up on the coffee table. Or they were sleeping until Steph spoke.
"What's wrong?" Lester wakes up the fastest.
"I want ice cream."
"Figures. Come here." Steph walks over to him. Since I'm still holding the IV bag, I have no choice but to follow her. Lester pulls her into his lap. Bobby and Tank are blinking sleepily. "How are you feeling?" I guess he's feeling bad because he can't handle anyone getting sick like she did. He's trying to make up for the weakness of his stomach.
"My stomach hurts."
"Shouldn't throw up like that."
Steph grunts at him. "No shit." She turns to me. "Make him let go so I can get ice cream."
I smile at them, a genuine smile. The kind of smile that I usually give only to her. If I was Morelli, I'd be jealous. I'm neither of those things. I lean over the couch and remove a picture from the wall. I hang the IV bag on the nail. "Sit tight, Babe. I'll get your ice cream."
"Me, too?" Lester.
"You too. Anyone else?" Two more nods. Right. Five bowls of ice cream. I need comfort food tonight, too. Well, it's actually fat free frozen yogurt. As long as it has chocolate and we call it ice cream, Steph eats it without complaining.
While I fill bowls with ice cream, I can hear them talking softly.
"Hey, guys. Thanks for staying. You didn't have to."
"Wanted to. You know we love to see you in your jammies, Baby." Bobby.
"I feel bad for causing you guys so many problems. I'm sorry I screwed up your day and your night." Her voice says she really is feeling bad.
"You screwed up nothing. We chose." Tank this time.
"I owe you guys one."
"You owe us nothing. There is no price for what we give each other."
Dead silence. "What did you say, Lester?" Steph's voice is wobbly. Oh, shit.
"There is no price for what we give each other, so you owe us nothing."
"Explain." Her voice is still shaking.
"You belong to us, Babydoll. We don't do anything for you that we don't choose to do. We know that you'd do the same for us. You don't owe us because we know you'll be there when we need you. There is no price for that kind of friendship."
"No price…" she whispers, but I can hear her clearly.
I step back into the living room with five bowls of ice cream. The guys look a little confused. Steph has a funny look on her face. "No price, Babe. Not ever." Emotions race across her face. I can see the exact moment when what Lester has said sinks in.
"How long, Ranger?" I know what she's asking.
"Since I chose you."
"When the rabbit blew up your truck?"
"No."
"When?"
"Since I told you that you needed a partner."
"That long?"
"That long."
"Why didn't you…?"
"I did, Babe. You weren't ready."
"Oh."
The guys are watching us both with looks of fascination on their faces. "Can someone please explain what just happened?" From the grin settling onto his face, I don't honestly think Tank needs an explanation.
"I once told her there was no price for what we give each other."
"Did you explain?" Tank's grin has grown, and now I can hear laughter in his voice.
"No."
"Idiot!" he says before breaking into belly laughs.
"Yes." No point in denying it. He's right. I was an idiot to walk away from her that day, and an even bigger idiot to send her back to Morelli. At least I'd been saved from my stupidity by Morelli's stupidity.
Ice cream eaten, Steph curls up and falls asleep in Lester's lap. When I move to take her and put her back to bed, he stops me with a look. "Let her sleep."
I do. Tank throws a pillow at me and I decide to stretch out on the thickly carpeted floor instead of trying to curl up in the club chair. I've been sitting up in bed with Steph for more than twelve hours and it feels good to stretch out.
If anyone had told me when I got involved with Steph that one day I'd be sleeping on my living room floor with my senior team asleep on my couch with my wife while my bedroom is occupied by a nurse, Hal, and my wife's partner and his partner, I'd have laughed my ass off and arranged for him or her to get a psych eval done ASAP. It's not so funny right this minute. It's not so bad, either.
