Disclaimer: I am still making no money playing with the Characters of JE.

A/N: Thank you for your patience with me as I slowly get this story finished. This chapter was hard to write, and for some will be hard to read. Angie's religious beliefs come very strongly into play in this chapter.

Oh God, I hurt, you know how in movies, the hero gets shot and just keeps going? Movies lie! Getting shot hurts, it hurts like hell. I hated that I felt relieved when Tank left the room, but I was. It was exhausting trying to stay cheerful and strong, but I could see that he was barely keeping it together. I had caused him enough problems tonight; he didn't need my losing it to add to the stress. I turned my attention back to the Priest. I had asked him to stay and hear my confession, I didn't think I was going to die, but if I were honest with myself, confession was necessary. I took a deep breath and shifted a little on the bed biting my lip and tightly closing my eyes against the pain the movement caused. Those pain killers could kick in at any time now, and I wouldn't mind. Honest.

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned, my last confession was…" I had to stop and think about it. I knew I had gone to confession shortly before this whole mess started, but how long ago was that. I finally had to shake my head and admit defeat. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember."

The priest laid his hand gently on my arm. "That's quite alright." he told me as he took a seat in the chair next to the bed.

I started my confession with the easy stuff, the masses I had missed, the rude, and hateful things that had been said. I always wondered if every one always warmed up with the little things first, the things you knew were wrong, but you did any way because you couldn't help it. I knew I liked this priest, when he offered to call his bishop and see if he could arrange for a special dispensation, so I wouldn't have to feel guilty about any more missed masses. That brought a genuine smile to my face. I have Jewish friends who complain about guilt, but I think Catholic guilt takes the cake.

I wanted to just quit then, before I had to get into the really hard stuff, but I was always taught, that if you avoid the hard stuff, then there really is no point in confessing. I closed my eyes again and started to talk of how angry I was, and how sometimes I wanted to strike out at Mr. Dominic for the things that he had done.

"Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: Vengeance is mine; and I will repay sayeth the Lord. Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he is thirsty give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good." (Romans 12: 19-21)

"God give me strength" I whispered. I knew what my faith taught me to do, but letting go of all the hurt and anger was something I knew I couldn't do without help. The priest and I sat in silence for a few moments while I let the scripture wash over me, reminding me that while it may be natural to want to hurt Mr. Dominic for hurting me, it was not what I was called to do.

"Father, there is something else, there is a man." I confessed. I always hated this part, there was something awkward about discussing relationships with a man who was sworn to celibacy.

"I have become very close to him in spite of the fact that he is one of my protectors."

"Would this be the man who was with you when I came in?"

I nodded and he gestured for me to continue. "After the stabbing when I decided to take my chances here in Trenton, I ended up staying in his apartment in a secure building. He was staying there as well, while I recovered from my wounds. Our relationship became really comfortable, it wasn't a physical one, but an emotional thing. It got to be where I looked forward to making breakfast for him and his friends in the morning, and all day long, I would look forward to our talks over dinner. Just before my stitches were to come out, we decided that it was time for me to be on my own, and he moved out of the apartment and back to his house. He still came for breakfast, and we talked on the phone at night, but it just wasn't the same. It felt wrong somehow, like trying to tie my shoes with one hand." I sighed and closed my eyes, I didn't like to think about how my life had changed, or how my life was going to continue to change.

"Then perhaps it is time to pray about it, see if this is really the person God is leading you to be with. Perhaps you should talk to this man, if he is not feeling things the same way, wouldn't it be better to know now?"

I don't know when this confession turned into a counseling session too, but it felt as though this were the way the sacrament was meant to be received.

"Father, I don't know what he is going to expect from a relationship."

"Talk to him, tell him what you feel, but you must be clear with him about what your faith demands of you, and of him. Let him decide if it is something he can live with."

I nodded and sighed softly, I felt better, yet oddly drained as if this talk had taken everything I had left in me. I stared ahead, my mind completely blanking out my next move.

"Oh my God, I am heartily sorry…" He prompted me, and my brain finally clicked on what it was supposed to do. I finished the Act of Contrition. I used to get a lot of flak from my non Catholic friends about confession, but the truth was as soon as the priest spoke the words of absolution, I felt better. It was as if all the things I had talked about were truly gone for good.

I received communion feeling better than I had since this whole debacle started. I said my goodbyes to Father, and as soon as he left, Bobby came through the doors.

"Angie, you doing ok?" He asked as he took the recently vacated chair.

"Fine." I was too, now that my meds had kicked in, and that I had been able to finally get to confession. "When can I go home?"

Bobby laughed a little and lightly patted my uninjured arm. "You've got a while, in case you hadn't noticed, there is still a giant hole in your shoulder that they've got to patch up."

"How much longer?"

"I don't know. They have the bleeding stopped, you're stable, so my guess is right about now they are having a surgeon looking over your films, to see if you need surgery, and then we'll see."

Bobby and I both looked up as the door opened again. Bobby moved his hand towards his gun, but relaxed as he saw Ranger walking through the door. He stood up and met him halfway. I heard a whispered conversation, but I couldn't make out any words, so after a minute I gave up trying. Bobby gave Ranger a small nod and walked out of the door, and instead of taking up his post by the door he headed to the waiting room. Ranger walked over to me and leaned over looking at me. I hated his intense stare, it always made me feel like I was being measured against some unknown set of expectations and falling hopelessly short.

"I hear, you're going to live."

I sighed and nodded. "Seems like it, and it's not even touch and go, which makes putting a plan to have me die into action seem pretty pointless."

He just continued to stare at me for a long moment, and just when I was about ready to scream he leaned closer to me and began to tell me the plan.

I listened carefully, trying to get my part in all of this straight. I had to admit, it was a decent plan, even if I didn't care all that much for what my part in it was going to be. Ranger straightened, and took a step back from the bed.

"Can you do it?" he demanded.

"Yes."

"Good, give me five minutes from the time I leave here, then you start with your part." He didn't give me any further instructions, or ask any questions, one of the things about Ranger is that if you told him you could handle something, he took you at your word.

As soon as he left, I started the process of getting myself out of bed. It was agonizing, but I made it, the hard part was still to come. I found the sling exactly where Ranger said it would be, and I slipped it over my head. Following Ranger's advice, I stuffed a towel in my mouth to muffle my screams as I forced my useless arm into the sling. I had tried to not make a sound, but even with pain meds, moving my arm hurt more than getting shot. I wished I could have asked someone to help me, but this part had to look like it was all my idea.

I looked down and sitting right by the chair was a black duffle bag that had been dropped off at some point tonight. It took some doing, but I managed to get it open, and pulled out the items inside. I was trying to get off my hospital gown, but the tugging in my hand made me realize I hadn't taken out the IV yet. I gritted my teeth and pulled the needle from my skin. I let it drop to the floor, and the gown soon followed. I pulled a black Rangeman t-shirt over my head, not easy to do one handed, but I managed, and left my slinged arm tucked against my chest, only putting my good arm through the shirt. Putting on the pair of sweatpants was more challenging, and I kept glancing at the clock. I was running out of time, but more importantly, I was running out of strength. I finished getting dressed, and I slipped my feet into a pair of orange flip flops.

I was exhausted, and in more pain than I would have thought possible by the time I finished. I slowly made my way to the door, I wished for nothing more than a nurse with a wheelchair at this moment, but I had to keep going, the whole plan depended on me carrying off this part in particular.

I had to lean heavily against the wall as I slowly shuffled out to the ER waiting room. I forced myself to stand up as I approached the group of large men in black. Bobby broke off from the group and headed towards me.

"Don't touch me! Any of you… Just leave me the hell alone." I screamed. The look on the faces of the men who had become my friends broke my heart, I knew they were going along with it, but still… no one wants to see proof that you are hurting someone.

I guess my screaming brought the attention of a nurse, because soon there was one by my side grabbing my good arm. "You shouldn't be out of bed. C'mon, let's get you settled back in."

I pulled my arm away from her and shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere but out of here. I want AMA forms."

The nurse looked a little shell shocked, so I continued to speak, hoping to get some sort of response. "I would like to sign myself out now… please get the forms."

Ranger finally decided to give me a hand, and he snapped at the nurse to bring me what I needed. Tank came over and slowly helped me into one of the waiting room chairs.

"Angie, I think you are being unreasonable. At least let them stitch you up before you leave. You are putting yourself into danger, and I think you are asking a lot of Bobby to help care for you like this."

I took a deep breath and shook my head again. "Tank, I don't think you understand." I couldn't look him in the eye, Ranger said he wasn't going to tell Tank what was happening, so that his reactions would be real. "I'm not going back to Rangeman, I am going to get into a cab and I am going to a motel tonight, and tomorrow I am getting on a plane back to Texas. I'm done running, I'd rather not have to keep looking over my shoulder."

"Angie," He said as he grabbed my hand. "There is no need for all that. I think you're not really thinking clearly."

"I am thinking just fine thank you. I am done with all of this shit, mostly I am done with New Jersey. Now where the hell are my forms!"

I struggled to get out of the chair as the nurse came running back with a clipboard. "Ms. O'Connor, this is really a bad idea. You have an open wound, and you still need.."

"Just give me the forms." I cut her off sounding a little bitchier than I had hoped. "I know you think this is a bad idea, but let me tell you your choices, you can let me sign the form that absolves you of any liability once I walk out that door, or you refuse to let me sign them, I walk out anyway, and then my next of kin sues this hospital, and you in particular for incompetence if anything bad happens after I leave."

I thought she was going to argue, but she silently handed me the clipboard and walked off in a huff. I had to fill out the forms left handed, I'm not sure if they would be able to read a single thing I had written, but that was not my problem. Just as I finished filling out the forms, the nurse came back with a brown paper bag and put them in my lap. "The doctor had the pharmacy fill an antibiotic, and pain pills. He said he hoped you would reconsider, but if you don't then to please think about seeing him in his office first thing tomorrow."

I nodded and handed over the paperwork to her. "I'll think about it."

Before I could say anything else, I was being lifted by Bobby and placed into a wheel chair. Tank looked at me coldly. "Ranger called for a cab, it is waiting for you outside."

I looked up from my lap at him, and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. "Tank… I'm sorry."

He just gave me a curt nod as Bobby pushed me out the doors of the ambulance bay to the waiting cab. Bobby lifted me into the back seat and spoke quietly. "Hector's driving, he has everything you need. I'll see you in a few hours."

I just nodded and turned my head to look out the window as we pulled away from the hospital. Thankfully Hector didn't try to talk to me, he just drove me to a seedy motel on the edge of town. It was one of those Hotels where you almost felt compelled to do a dead hooker check. Hector carried me from the car into the motel room and set me on the bed. He then went back to the car to get my bag of pills, and anything else Ranger decided we were about to need.

Hector set the bags down on the bedside table, and dug out the pain pills. He opened the bottle and handed me two pills with a bottle of water. While I was swallowing my meds, he emptied all but one pill from the bottle, and set it on the table dropping the lid to the floor and letting it roll away. He then pulled out a bottle of Everclear 190 and set it on the table.

Hector left, and I sat staring at the bottle in front of me wondering if I would be able to handle this next part of the plan. I picked up the bottle of Everclear and held it gently in my hands. I had nothing to do but wait until the next part of the plan could be carried out.