All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.

Also…not a doctor. Don't even play one on tv. And while there was more time spent researching than probably was necessary, all mistakes are my own.

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Chapter 2

SPOV

I'm startled out of my stupor, surprised to find myself in an elevator. Looking around, it seems familiar, and I watch the numbers rise until it stops on five. The doors open and I spill out onto the control floor at Rangeman. Weird. I didn't know I was coming here. Things are quiet and I take a moment to think things through. I was going after Joey Fingers and had tracked him down to a hotel downtown. I followed him as he left, and he took off running when he saw me. I chased him into an alley and had him but took my eye off him when I saw the man trying to kidnap a little girl. I think something happened, but what I remember most is Ranger looking disappointed in me for swiping the file; they all looked disappointed in me. So why am I here, instead of going home?

Hal and Cal, twin behemoths with hearts of gold, are on the monitors. Binkie and Woody, both boyishly sweet, are bickering back and forth about who gets to drive during their patrol shift. Manny is perusing the work roster while talking to someone on a headset. Where is everyone else?

"Bomber."

Binkie's voice is flat, holding none of its usual happiness. The others all turn toward me and give a disinterested nod before turning back to whatever they were doing. The guys haven't been this quiet since I first started doing odd jobs for Ranger; normally I get a Cheers-esque "Norm!" type of greeting, with various nicknames being tossed about. Not today, though. Today, they're studiously avoiding looking me in the eye.

"What's going on? Where is everybody. It's as quiet as a funeral in here." Five sets of swing to me and it makes me take a step back and ask. "Seriously, what's going on?"

Hal looks sad. "Why, Steph? Why do you keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" I look around, confused.

"Refusing to ask for help, but not getting yourself any training, either."

Beside him, Cal adds, "Seriously. Ask for help or get trained. Or both. Both would be good."

The rest nod along. Tears gather in my eyes. I know they're probably not wrong, but they've never just boldly put it out there like that, either. They haven't raised their voices, but I feel attacked all the same. I remember their disappointed faces back at the scene and it starts to hook my anger. "If I have a partner, I have to split the fee, and I barely make enough money to pay my bills as it is!"

Woody looks pissed. "Bomber, you know none of us would charge you for the help!"

"I'm not a charity case!" Their voices may be low and calm, but mine is not.

"No one said you were, Wifey." Manny doesn't even lift his eyes up off the clipboard he's looking at.

"Sure as hell feels like it," I mutter.

"Friends help each other. Do you consider it charity to help your friends?"

Cal's got a point, but I've never been good at accepting help. It always comes with strings and stipulations. Always. I learned early on that it was better just to muddle through and do things for myself rather than ask for help. If I do things for myself, then the success, or failure, is all on me and I won't learn to depend on people, won't be disappointed when they leave.

"No. I just don't like asking for help. Is Ranger here?" They all shrug and go about their business. "What about Les?"

Manny points his pen. "Try the breakroom."

I turn to go but give them one last look; they're already returned to their tasks. I don't remember planning on coming here today and I still don't know why I did. I just feel like I need to talk to Ranger, to explain. Lester's probably my closest friend here at Rangeman; maybe he'll have answers.

The breakroom is mostly empty, with just Ram, Hector, and Zero at a table in the corner. No Les. Hector and his teardrop tattoos scare the crap out of me, but I've worked with Ram and Zero before. Stepping fully into the room, I debate stepping right back out to avoid the looks they're giving me.

"You guys know if Ranger's around?" None of them answer me. "What about Les?"

Still nothing. "What the hell, guys?"

Zero stabs at his salad. That, I understand. Other than Ranger, I can't remember seeing anyone ever enjoy eating a salad. I tend to stab at them in anger, too. He starts to say something and then stops.

"Just spit it out. Seems like everyone has a problem with me today, anyway."

He stabs at a few more times before putting his fork down. "When are you going to stop rushing into situations? You put yourself, and everyone else, at risk when you do that shit. Take five damn minutes to think things through and make a plan."

Unfuckingbelievable. It's 'have a go at Stephanie' day. "I freaking had a plan this morning. I figured out where Joey was going to be. I had my loaded gun, charged stun gun, pepper spray, and a panic button. I found Joey, chased him down and got him into cuffs. So, the only thing I didn't do…was ask permission to do my damn job!"

Chest heaving, I'm just as angry and disappointed at them as they are at me. "And really. Every time an alarm goes off, do you know exactly what you're heading into? I don't know about you, but I don't look at a skip file and think, 'oh, hey. Busted for shoplifting Metamucil, I bet he's going to set my car on fire,' or 'ooh, trouble making frat boy, $20 bucks says I get kidnapped by a crazy scientist! Better call in some Merry Men!'"

It feels like me against the world today. I can't really dispute the impulsive part, but I'm annoyed as hell that they seem to think that I never put any thought into anything. I really, really don't know why I'm here, letting them illuminate my failings.

"Are Ranger or Lester here?" I ask a little more forcefully.

"Lester might be down in his apartment."

None of us bother to say anything else as I stomp out of the breakroom.

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RPOV

Breathing is slowly getting easier, and my vision is clearing. I have to blink a few times to confirm that yes, Tank is squatted down in front of me, looking concerned. When the hell did he get here? Shit. Pull it together, Manoso. Bracing my weight on my right leg, I use the wall for stability and push myself into a standing position.

"Report!"

He's my second in command for a reason, and his gaze is shrewd. "You back online, Rangeman?"

"I'm fine! What the hell do we know?"

Tank looks skeptical, but he runs it down for me. "Santos and Woody are five minutes out with Frank and Helen Plum; after they arrive, Santos will divert to give the information we have to her sister. Mrs. Mazur is on a senior's bus trip to Atlantic City and Mrs. Plum indicated she would contact her mother. Brown's trying to find out more specific information about Steph's injuries. The medic in the bus said her pressure dropped quickly and with no warning. He used the paddles on her before they arrived at the ER, and she was immediately wheeled back to a trauma room. Three of the five men who have O negative blood have started directed donations for Stephanie, and the other two requested to be relieved on patrol and will head here to do the same. The rest of the men plan to donate when the center can fit them in. News hasn't hit the streets yet, but us scooping up her parents will probably get the questions flying. Cal called in that they have a line on Fratelli and are heading there now. We have no information on the man that stabbed Steph, but the police have put out a BOLO on a grey sedan with an injured driver. Hector is trying to determine which businesses on the east side of the alley have surveillance cameras. Freidman Jewelers down the street is a client, so he'll also look at their footage."

Up to speed, I head to the door, intent on finally heading up to the surgical floor. Bones is still guarding the door and takes the lead position as we head to the stairwell. It doesn't escape my attention that they are flanking me in a protective position. I'd bristle at the idea of needing someone to watch my back, but the fact that I can't say how long Tank was in the room with me suggests I'm so far off my game, I'm not even on the field.

Upstairs, Bones leads us to the desk and then steps aside, surveying the other occupants of the waiting area. The nurse manning the desk looks at me expectantly.

"Stephanie Plum."

She moves her mouse and types a something, before asking for my ID. Once she's checked it against something on her screen she tells me, "Someone will be out to speak to you as soon as they can."

Dismissed, we move away over to the far side of the room. Tank all but pushes me into a seat, a move I wouldn't normally allow. Bones is beside me moments later, cup of hot coffee in hand. The taste is horrible, but I can't deny that I can feel brain cells coming back online. My men trickle in in groups, scattering around this section of the waiting room. I'm halfway through the coffee when the door opens and Woody leads Frank and Helen Plum over to us. Shit. How do I tell them that I didn't even notice how badly she was injured, and I sent her off to the hospital alone?

Standing, I great Stephanie's father with a handshake. "Mr. Plum."

"Frank is fine. Have they told you anything?"

"No, sir. I have a man who is a physician's assistant with privileges here; he's trying to find out what he can, and he'll report in with what he knows."

Mrs. Plum purses her lips. "Did they give any indication as to what kind of internal injury they're looking at?"

Bones steps forward. "No ma'am. I'm not entirely sure the nurse in the emergency department knew herself."

Mrs. Plum nods her head at the information, and I'm still struggling to find the words to talk to them. Nothing is coming. A few of the men who were seated clear a spot for Steph's parents. The longer I have to wait for news, the more agitated I become. Steph shouldn't have been alone in the ambulance. Why couldn't she have asked for help with Fratelli, leaving her with back-up and a helping hand when she tried to save the girl? I think back to my early days of bounty hunting when I often went off on my own. Steph and I share many traits and being independent to a fault is one of them; I realize I haven't exactly made it easy to ask for my help. I bleed money for you. The phrase brings bile up into my throat now.

It feels like an eternity before Brown appears before us. I don't have to demand a report; he searches out both me and Frank and asks if we'd like an update in private. Both of us decline.

"Stephanie has four injuries. Three of them are minor, one is not. She suffered a hematoma on the back of her head, resulting in what is colloquially called a 'goose egg.' The doctors don't expect that it did any damage, and the minor swelling will go away on its own. Deep lacerations on her left palm and her left bicep will require stitches that will most likely result in some scarring. The wound to her hand may require therapy after the muscle tissue heals. The biggest issue, though, is the penetrating trauma to her abdominal area, on her lower right side. An ultrasound downstairs confirmed the internal bleeding that the paramedic suspected after her pressure dropped."

We all brace ourselves for what's coming next. Brown stops to gather his thoughts, perhaps trying to figure out the best way to deliver bad news.

"Her right inferior epigastric artery was nicked during the attack, resulting in hemoperitoneum, bleeding into her abdominal cavity. She's lost a lot of blood, but so far, she's stable and holding her own. The doctors are working to repair the artery. They are watching her blood pressure closely but working as fast as they can to minimize the trauma to her overtaxed system."

He doesn't have much to say beyond that and we all settle back to wait. Half an hour later, Eddie Gazarra pokes his head in and asks to speak to the Plums. We watch them leave, hopeful that Eddie has a line on the kidnapper. That reminds me that I haven't checked in with Hector. A few exchanged texts reveals that the grey sedan was picked up by a few cameras, but only offered a direction to start looking. An incoming text on Tank's phone startles me and I can't quite tamp down the jolt it sends through me.

"Cal and Hal cornered Fratelli at his house; he was still wearing Bomber's cuffs. Costanza and Big Dog arrived at about the same time and Fratelli confirmed what Steph told Costanza and what the little girl said, too. They're taking him in, and our guys are following to pick up Steph's body receipt and turn it in to Connie. Both cops doubt Bomber will face charges for discharging her firearm and will get a defense of a third party ruling."

My nod is interrupted by a noise in the hall, and we're all startled when the door to the room is thrown open and none other than Joe freaking Morelli strides in like he owns the place. "What the hell, Manoso? What mess did you drag her into this time?"

"Back the hell off, Morelli." Tank's quiet warning is loud in the otherwise silent room. The cop barely spares him a glance before getting even further in my face.

"Why couldn't you just leave her the hell alone? It's because of you that she's always getting hurt!"

That gets the men's hackles up, but a low 'stop' hand signal from Tank has them backing off. They're still on alert, though, and the prick is too arrogant to realize he's surrounded by a pack of wolves eyeing him like lunch.

"Nothing to say to that, Manoso? Of course not. Always with the silent shit. If it weren't for you using your influence over her, she'd have left that shitty job long ago and she wouldn't be thinking she was indestructible. She'd have found something safer like she should have, and we wouldn't be standing here, again, waiting to hear what kind of damage she has from yet another fuck-up. Jesus, she went after Joey Fingers!"

"That's quite enough out of you, Joseph!"

Neither of us noticed The Plums reenter the room. Morelli at least has the grace to look abashed at being caught bad-mouthing their daughter and he takes a moment to run his hand through his hair before facing them.

"Frank, Helen—"

"Why are you here?"

Frank's question stops him in his tracks. I don't think it occurred to him that he might not be welcome.

"I'm here to check on Stephanie."

Frank's eyes narrow and I get a glimpse of the soldier he must have once been. He's not buying what the cop is trying to sell. I have no doubt that Morelli cares about her, he just always has a shitty way of showing his love for her. It surprises all of us when it's Helen that steps forward. "Unless something has changed while we stepped out, Stephanie is holding her own. And now that you know that, it's probably best that you head out."

Morelli swallows before putting his best food forward. "I'd like to stay until she's out of surgery."

"That's not necessary."

We're all watching their interaction, just as confused as the cop. Helen has always been a staunch supporter of his, so it would be expected for him to be here. Morelli doesn't seem any more enlightened than us, and Helen cuts him off when he starts to speak.

"My daughter broke up with you because of scenes like this; you assuming the worst without getting all the information. She broke up with you because of the way you speak to her. My granddaughter Angie heard one of your conversations and wondered why her aunt Stephanie told her to never let a boy make her feel inferior if she was allowing you to call her incompetent. Delusional. A fuck-up."

The room is silent, shocked at hearing 'fuck' come out of Helen Plum's proper mouth and pissed at the cop for uttering those things to Steph. Morelli steps toward her, but Frank puts himself in between them. "We just spoke to Eddie, who told us that Stephanie had her skip under control and was injured when she saved a young child from being kidnapped. If you knew anything about her, you'd know that that's who she is and who she'll always be. Perhaps you should have stopped to find out what happened before you came here to cast blame."

His words are for the cop, but I feel them all the same. Didn't I rush to the scene, expecting that it was one more apprehension that got out of control?

Reaching for Frank's hand, Helen adds, "Since you two have not been together in months, and after the way you've behaved today, I can't imagine you ever will be again, you should head home. This is a waiting room for family."

Morelli plants his feet. "And yet Rangeman is here."

Frank shakes his head. "Stephanie considers them family, so they are welcome to stay. You are not."

Morelli is rooted in place, shocked. He probably thought he'd come here and play the concerned boyfriend, but that's not how it's shaking out. My men, emboldened by the Plum's acceptance, stand taller in a ring around the area of the waiting room we've commandeered. Finally accepting Frank and Helen's dismissals for what they are, he lets out a disgusted sigh and leaves in the same noisy manner he arrived. Tank gives a miniscule nod of his head, and Manny follows the cop to make sure he actually leaves the area.

Frank gives me a head nod before turning to Bobby and asking for an update. Once he's satisfied, he leads Helen over to a seat. Lester hands each of them a cup of coffee and we settle into to wait some more.

SPOV

Leaving the men and their judgment behind, I stab at the down button for the elevator. It takes forever; so long that I consider taking the stairs, but I'm just so tired. The elevator finally arrives, and I figure if I gave them a chance, one of the guys would make a comment about laziness being on my list of sins, tucked somewhere between thoughtlessness and impulsiveness. Clenching my jaw, I step onto the elevator and give the button for the fourth floor a vicious jab. It doesn't make the elevator go any faster, and now my finger hurts.

It's been a while since I've been on this floor; not since I tried to stay here during the Slayer mess before giving up and going back up to seven. I stop at the fourth door on the left. I don't know how I know this is Lester's apartment, I just do. I'm nervous when I knock on the door, even more nervous when it's opened by an angry looking Tank. He turns around and walks back to the living room area, leaving me standing in the open doorway. My fight or flight instincts are at war, and after the scenes upstairs, they're leaning heavily toward flight, but I came to talk to Lester. Shutting the door behind me, I head into the lion's den.

Tank hasn't taken a seat; he's leaning against the wall just inside the room. Looking past him, I can see Les and Bobby on the couch; Bobby only looks relaxed with his arm along the back and Les is leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs and hands clenched. Angry. All of them look angry. At me. What the hell?

"Guys…"

Les' jaw clenches. "Stephanie, how many times are you going to do this to Ranger?"

Stephanie, not Beautiful. "Do what?"

"Put him through the ringer when you go off half-cocked. Do you know what it would do to him, if something happened to you and he was too late to save you?"

Oh, hell no. "Half-cocked? I may not be a military strategist, but I'm not an idiot, either. I was armed today, and I had Joey down on the ground, cuffed. No one could have planned for that little girl being there and needing help, not even you guys."

"It breaks a little bit of him every time you're hurt, Steph."

My eyes narrow at Bobby and his attempt at a guilt trip. I know Ranger cares about me, even loves me. He takes me getting hurt personally, but he can't expect me to live my life wrapped in bubble wrap, sitting on a shelf. I might as well give in and agree to marry Joe and be a 'proper' Burg wife. The effect on my mental health would be the same. "Just like I die a little each time he gets hurt. My heart hurts any time my friends get hurt."

"You're more than that to him, and you know it!" Les has gone from looking angry to disgusted.

"I know he loves me, but we're not together. We're not in a relationship because he doesn't do those. He's been very clear on that. Friends, entertainment, comedy relief. I know my place."

"Bomber."

I look over at Tank, waiting for his condemnation. His eyes have softened some. "The man loves you. He might be an imbecile when it comes to actually making sure you know that, but he does. Deeply. Has it ever occurred to you that he's afraid to be real with you?"

There are times when Ranger has seemed unsure, but scared? No. He doesn't do scared. Except maybe he does. I remember the look on his face when he caught me after I fell out of the cabinet that Con Stiva locked me in. He had already told me his life didn't lend itself to relationships by then, so I've done my best to keep my feelings locked away after I admitted to myself that I was in love with him. I got the 'it's not you, it's me' speech when I asked what it all meant, and the memory still hurts. I've been very careful to avoid anything that would lead to a repeat. I can't take that chance again. I won't.

"He's let you in more than anyone. That should tell you something."

I turn back to Bobby. "It tells me that he's an island, content to be alone in a sea of people."

"Maybe he's waiting for a life raft."

"And you think that's me?" I have to laugh at that. "It's been repeatedly pointed out to me today, and every day, that I'm a screw-up. He'd be crazy to hitch himself to me."

"Bullshit. That's the cop talking."

"It's everyone talking. Haven't you heard? I'm impulsive and reckless. Thoughtless. I can't do anything right and put everyone at risk. Ask anybody."

Tank shakes his head. "You do things that make helping you difficult, but that's not always a bad thing. We'd all love it if you agreed to some self-defense lessons. And carried your gun with you, or let us help you. It would be a load off of us if you were more proactive."

Tears sting my eyes. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden to everyone."

"Jesus, Beautiful! That's not what we're saying at all. We're saying you don't have to do it all alone."

I want to believe that. I do. But I'm so used to disappointing people or them disappointing me. It's better to rely on only myself. Then, the only person I disappoint is myself. My energy is quickly leaving me, jumbling my thoughts. "I suppose I should go up and talk to Ranger."

"Probably not a good idea, Bomber. He's in a mood."

Of course, he is. I've disappointed him again, just like I disappoint everyone. With a nod, I turn around to leave. My legs feel heavy as I walk out of the apartment and pull the door shut behind me. I'm so tired, and not just physically. The weight of knowing that I'm a burden, that I'm never going to get ahead and always be floundering, that Ranger will only see me as his project to rescue and fix, is crushing. I think I came here for reassurance, and instead I found twelve angry Rangemen, including one who probably doesn't even want to see me.

It seems so far to the elevator, and I have nowhere to go, anyway. Turning the other way, I see the emergency exit door and long for it. The heavy, pressing weight on my chest is making it hard to breath. My legs and arms are uncooperative as I slide along the way. I cause so many problems for people, maybe I just need to…go. Go away and leave them in peace. Then they won't have to worry about me or rescue me or be embarrassed by my inability to do the job

Finally arriving at the door, I push the bar to open it. Piercing alarms immediately sound, causing me to cover my ears. Voices are mixed in, but I don't know where they're coming from. Resigned, I step through the door and as I begin falling, I realize too late that there is nothing to catch me. I don't want to fight it, so I close my eyes and let myself go.