A/N: I didn't want to write a story where everyone still had to be 6 feet apart and wear masks, but I know it would be unrealistic for the entire country to get enough vaccine to make it safe in the timeline of this story. So in my world, New York and New Jersey all got the vaccine first. At one point, I had it in the story that Ranger asked that instead of being paid for the mission, his compensation be New Jersey getting top priority for the vaccine. Who knows, I may throw that back in before I'm done with this.

RPOV

I was seething as I headed up to 7 after my run in with Tank. Damn him! How could he do that to me?

I slammed my apartment door shut and headed for the bathroom, yanking my t-shirt over my head along the way.

He's been my best friend, almost a brother to me since basic training. We've been through the worst of times together, shitty deployments, missions that we almost didn't make it back from, and he'd always had my back.

I finished stripping my clothes off and threw them in the hamper, before starting the shower. I stepped under the hot water and let it wash over me. I reached up and turned the water to the strongest setting, then leaned against the shower wall, cushioning my head with my forearms, and let the water pound my back. I took several deep breaths as the scene from the conference room replayed itself in my head. I'd been so blindsided downstairs that I'd barely comprehended Tank's words, but now they seemed to resonate in my head clear as day. He spoke to my rules about protecting Stephanie, putting her first. Shit! If I'm honest with myself, who am I more pissed at? Tank? Or myself? Deep down, I know Tank is looking out for Babe and following the rules I've drilled into the men countless times, but that doesn't ease the ache in my chest. After waiting so long for Someday, and having it so close at hand, could I really lose her now? If I do lose her, there's no one else to blame but myself. How many times had Tank argued with me over the last few months? How many times had he told me to talk to her, to ask her out, to call her? I'd sat there with my phone in my hand how many nights, and not followed through? Tank was right. Even if I couldn't bring myself to call Babe, I could have called Tom and gotten help sooner.

I pushed myself off the shower all and reached for the shower gel. What's done is done. I have nothing to gain by rehashing my actions since I returned to Trenton. What's important is getting better, getting my head straightened around. Tank said the first round of dates would take a month, so that should give me time to start working through things with Tom and Cathryn. Had I been too hasty to dismiss using meds to help me recover? I'd used them after that botched mission in Columbia several years ago where I was captured and held captive. I really didn't like the side effects. I know Tom's preference would be for me to use them, but Cathryn seemed very open to alternatives. I know I came across as skeptical of the neurofeedback. I want to do some research on it to see the studies on its effectiveness. I'll see how I'm feeling about the meds after my sessions with Cathryn and Tom on Monday and Tuesday.

I finished in the shower and pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Ella had been to visit while I was in the shower. Looking at the clock, I realized I'd been in there a lot longer than I thought. She had left grilled salmon with roasted asparagus and a note telling me to let her know if I wanted something different. Ella may be my aunt, but she's always been like a second mother to me.

After I finished dinner, I felt restless, unsure of what to do with myself. I needed something to keep my mind off of what had happened this afternoon, and off of Stephanie. I turned the TV on and found the Yankees playing the Indians. It seemed strange to see a game with empty stands. The U.S. mostly has the spread of the virus under control, but that's in part due to continued measures like not allowing fans to fill stadiums for sporting events. New York and New Jersey have received significant amounts of the vaccine, so new cases of the virus are very minimal, and life has returned to normal in most areas, but Ohio where the game was being held hasn't yet received enough of the vaccine to make it safe for large numbers of people to gather together.

I was tempted to grab a beer from the fridge but decided alcohol probably wouldn't be the best choice for me right now. I thought about going to bed and remembered that I had promised Tom I'd start melatonin tonight. I don't want to give him any reason to push a prescription sleep medicine on me, so I'd best follow through on my promises. I checked the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and didn't find any melatonin. I had omega 3 and vitamin D supplements on hand. Bobby had issued bottles of vitamin D to everyone when it was reported that vitamin D helped prevent infection from the virus. I hadn't taken it knowing that I had natural immunity due to having had the virus already. It had been a few years since I'd last taken melatonin and there was none in my apartment. I didn't feel like going out to pick some up, and I didn't want to disturb Ella this late on a Friday night. That left one option: Bobby and the infirmary. Calling Bobby would subject me to a slew of questions, many of which I'm sure I wouldn't want to answer, but it seemed the simplest solution.

I picked up my phone and dialed Bobby. He answered on the first ring.

"Yo, Ranger. Is there a problem?"

"No problem. Are you in your apartment right now?"

"Yeah. What do you need?"

"Melatonin. Can I meet you down at the infirmary to get some?"

Bobby was quiet for a second. "I'll head down there now."

I hung up and took the elevator down to 3. If any of my men had noticed that I'd been using the elevator almost exclusively since I'd returned from my mission, they'd been smart enough to keep their observation to themselves. When I left the hospital, just one flight of stairs was enough to leave me breathless and needing to sit down. Luckily, my ability to handle stairs has vastly improved, but they can still leave me winded. I really don't want my guys seeing me huffing and puffing up the stairs.

When I'd returned to Trenton, Tank and Bobby had made the decision to close down the gym temporarily because gyms were an excellent conduit for transmission of the virus. Everyone touching the same equipment, breathing heavy, guys in close proximity as they spotted for one another and took turns on equipment. Bobby had recommended running or biking outdoors for cardio and doing bodyweight exercises in their apartments in place of using the gym. That worked in my favor because I knew there was no way I could hide my physical weakness if I was expected to work out in the gym with everyone else. The gym was closed for a month after I returned. During that time, I'd drive somewhere I wouldn't be seen to exercise. I made good use of the hiking trails in the state parks, starting with short, slow walks and building up to a slow jog before increasing my speed to running. Since most public buildings were closed to outsiders, the options for stairs were limited and I wasn't about to use the stairwells inside of our building where my struggles could be observed by anyone viewing the monitors. I drove to Philly and Princeton and used outside stairs on public buildings to build up my endurance. As I told Tom, I wasn't getting the same enjoyment out of exercise like I used to. Whereas before that last mission and my ensuing illness, I would have seen the workouts as a challenge to be conquered. Now they were necessary torture, needed to improve my skills so I wouldn't embarrass myself in front of my men.

By the time the gym reopened, I was physically recovered enough that I could work out in the gym without the guys noticing changes to my routine. I still chose to go later in the day when there were fewer guys in the gym, mostly because I wanted to lessen the chance someone pick up on the changes to my gym routine, but also because the noise of the crowded gym made me anxious. It was easier for me to be in that environment if there were fewer people around.

I exited the elevator on the third floor and walked past the gym doors to where Bobby's infirmary was. He was waiting there for me, the bottle of melatonin already in hand. I reached out to take it, but he pulled it back just as I was about to grab it.

"Anything you want to tell me, Ranger?"

"Nope, can't think of anything. Thanks for meeting me here." I held out my hand for the bottle, but he still held it back. I could tell he was debating on how hard to press me.

"You know I normally wouldn't hand anything out, even a supplement like this, if I didn't have up to date medical information."

"I know, Bobby. Thanks for making an exception for me."

"I haven't committed yet to making that exception, Ranger," Bobby retorted, still holding onto the bottle while his eyes narrowing slightly.

I stifled a sigh and tried to maintain my blank face. I could feel irritation rising in me, but I knew Bobby didn't deserve any attitude from me. He had his rules, and I was asking him to ignore a big one for me, a rule I'd fully supported in the past. I wasn't ready to share everything that had happened, but a little information might go a long way in helping Bobby feel more at ease.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm taking this at the direction of Tom Flannagan. I meant to pick some up earlier today but forgot. I promised Tom I'd start it tonight."

I saw Bobby's shoulders drop a little as his body relaxed at that news.

"Thanks, man. That helps, but Tom's not an MD," he said before pausing. I could almost see gears turning in his head. "Tom Flanagan recommended melatonin? That doesn't seem like him. He'd be more likely to have you meet with one of the psychiatrists for a prescription sleep med."

"Actually, that's exactly what he wanted, but we were meeting with one of his colleagues, Cathryn Walsh, and she recommended the melatonin as a substitute. Tom capitulated, but he said I have to follow through with the melatonin and see improvement in my sleep, or he'll insist on me meeting with a psychiatrist. Happy now?"

Bobby nodded. "Cathryn Walsh. That name sounds familiar. I know I've heard it or read it somewhere. What's her specialty?"

"Biofeedback and neurofeedback."

"Now I remember. Yeah, I've read some papers by her. She's critiqued some studies done on neurofeedback as a treatment for PTSD in soldiers."

"She told me there were studies out there. She didn't tell me she'd authored them."

"She didn't author the studies. She reviewed the studies and wrote critiques. I think she's also critiqued some studies on neurofeedback for uses other than for PTSD… Hold it, you were meeting with her?"

I nodded, not liking the direction this conversation was going but wanting Bobby's opinion on Cathryn's work too much to stop it. I'd given him way more information than I'd intended. Bobby stopped and studied my face for a moment. I think I must have been giving away the discomfort I felt because I could almost see Bobby's train of thought reset.

"From what I've read, she's good, really good. Likely the best at what she does. If Tom set you up with an appointment with her, then he holds her in high regard." Bobby paused, as if considering what he should say. "Is there anything more you want to share?"

"Not right now," I answered with a slight shake of my head.

Bobby held the bottle out, and I took it. "I'm trusting you, Ranger. When your medical records get here, if I find anything in there that would have made me refuse to give this to you, you and I are meeting on the mats. And don't think I haven't noticed the changes in your workout routines. Whatever happened on that mission, you still aren't back to the shape you were in before."

I gave Bobby a quick nod and turned to walk back to the elevator. I heard Bobby clear his throat and looked back at him.

"Whenever you're ready to talk, come find me."

I nodded again and continued back to the elevator, feeling Bobby's eyes on me.

I spent most of Saturday holed up in my office in my apartment. I didn't want to hear the men discussing their future dates with Babe or subject myself to their looks. For now, I needed to focus on myself. I completed the work I had to get done in just a few hours, then spent the rest of the time looking up articles on neurofeedback and Cathryn Walsh. It seems Bobby was right. She was very well-respected in her field. What I found most interesting weren't the studies where she concurred with the findings, but rather the ones where she found fault with the study's design. There was one study done on the effectiveness of neurofeedback in children with ADHD. The study's authors concluded the neurofeedback made no improvement in the children's symptoms. Cathryn went into a detailed explanation of how the "one size fits all" design of the study didn't allow for the variation from child to child in how their brains functioned. She described how each child should have a protocol tailored to their specific needs. The more I read, the more comfortable I was being treated by Cathryn.

I kept my promise to Elena and went to Sunday dinner. Mama was thrilled to see me two weeks in a row. As she had done the week before, she pulled me into a hug then carefully studied my face. She must have been satisfied with what she saw, because she smiled and gave a soft pat to my cheek.

"You're sleeping better, mi hijo."

With the help of the melatonin, I'd been able to sleep a little more soundly the last couple nights. I guess it was already showing. I still wasn't up to a solid eight hours, but both nights I'd managed uninterrupted stretches of around six hours and then was able to doze off and on for a couple hours more.

Elena didn't ambush me again, although she sent me a few looks that had me wondering what she was thinking. I desperately wanted to ask her about her dinner and conversation with Babe on Wednesday but knew that would open me up to a whole lot of questions, so I passed. Before I left, I made sure to find her and tell her a quiet 'thanks' while giving her a hug. She hugged back tightly and told me to take care of myself.

This morning I'm headed to see Cathryn for the quantitative EEG. My research on her over the weekend had me looking forward to this appointment. With Tank's plan to have the men of RangeMan dating Babe, I feel I need all the help I can get resolving the psychological effects of my illness.

This morning, it was Cathryn greeting me at the door and locking it behind us, underscoring for me the fact that, like Tom, she had come in before normal work hours to fit me in. Something I deeply appreciated. Unlike Tom, she didn't offer me coffee, but offered water instead, which I happily accepted.

"Personally, I avoid caffeine, and I think it's better for my patients if they avoid it as well, at least during treatment," she offered as explanation even though I hadn't asked.

"Sounds reasonable. I haven't had any since Friday morning. When I was meeting with Tom, I realized coffee probably wasn't the best beverage choice with my sleep and anxiety issues. When I was unable to sleep, I started using coffee during the day to help alleviate my exhaustion, but then it would contribute to another sleepless night, so I was in a nasty spiral that needed to be broken."

"How is your sleep?"

"A little improved. I've been able to get between six and seven hours uninterrupted the last few nights.

"How much were you getting before?"

"Most nights about four. A few nights I'd get as little as two."

Cathryn whistled softly. "That's not nearly enough to function on. How long had that been occurring?"

"Since I got home from the hospital. About four months now. It started when I was in the hospital. As you can imagine, my sleep there wasn't restful, interrupted all the time by doctors and nurses checking on me. But I was sleeping more overall because I was in bed almost all day. Once I got home and was trying to get back into the routine of work, I was putting in full work days but my sleep never recovered to where I was sleeping longer stretches at night."

"Well, the neurofeedback can help with your sleep, especially if anxiety is contributing to the sleep disruption. Keep up on the melatonin for now."

We arrived at her office, and she directed me to sit in the upholstered chair facing a large computer monitor. She picked up the cap she'd shown me last week and fit it on my head. Methodically, she injected some sort of thick gel through holes at the lead sites to make the leads stick to my scalp. While she was doing this, we were engaged in some small talk. She wanted to know about my family, my business, and so on. There were almost a couple dozen leads spaced evenly all over the cap.

"During training sessions, I'll have you watch something on the monitor, but that isn't necessary for today. For today, I just ask that you try to relax and refrain from talking while I am recording your brain activity." She led me through several short periods where her computer gathered the data from the leads. Sometimes she asked for my eyes to be open and other times she asked me to close them. I'm not really sure why that's important, but I closely followed her instructions. After about 45 minutes, she announced she was done and began removing the cap.

"What did you see?" I asked her as I was gathering my hair back into a tie at the base of my neck. I could tell it was a mess from all the gel she had used for the EEG leads. She wasn't kidding when she told me to plan on going home to wash my hair afterwards.

"I can't really say right now. I need to take all the data points we collected and run the statistical analysis on them tonight. I'll have your brain map ready for our first training session tomorrow. We'll go over it before we get started."

She showed me out and I headed back to Trenton to shower and start my work day. I'd be back tomorrow and maybe Tom and Cathryn would have some answers for me.