Disclaimer None of the main shmexy characters are mine. Both Alec and Shale can be dumped on the side of a road.

Note I want a lovely bunch of coconuts! Where could I find one of these a-love-a-ly bunch of coconuts? Why don't I have a lovely bunch of coconuts?

As we pulled into the street where the file said Velote lived, I saw no lights were on. Checking the clock on the dashboard I noticed that it was nearly eight. Sleep was tugging at my eyes, and I was exhausted. I kept telling myself that just this one more skip would set my mind at ease, than I could have a full night of nightmare-less sleep. I had been awake almost three days in a row, and even the thrill of the capture was hardly doing anything to help my skills.

"Hey man, you OK?" Tank said from beside me.

I gave a small nod of response. Tank snorted and continued.

"You've been close to falling asleep every time I see you lately. Have you been getting enough rest?"

"I'm fine, Tank" I said, mabye a little more harsh than I intended it to. Tank silenced then, but I was fully aware that he didn't think the matter was settled. I didn't really care. We had and FTA to go after.

There was no car in the driveway of Shale Velote's house, but a light was on and glowing in the downstairs living room. I assumed it was the TV. The curtains were drawn tight but the material hardly passed for blackout curtains, and I was assured he or at least someone that knew him was at home. Funny, the file didn't say he was married. I didn't think twice on that one. Normally, armed robbers and potential murderers don't make good husbands. Just a suggestion.

We angled out of the truck and in the back, I saw Lester and Bobby do the same. They waited in the backyard, waiting for my bursting open of the door. When Tank and I had dropped off Mannion at the police station, they continued on to here, staking the house out, making sure that he wouldn't get away.

Because he was more than likely armed to the teeth, I knocked on the door with gun poised, vision blurred, and waited for him to open up. I felt drunk, but my nerves were intact, and that had always seen me through. I had a Kevlar vest on, and my gun was off saftey and in my hands, gun poised on the trigger. I was ready.

No one came to the door, and I knocked once more before kicking the door down. There on the couch, correctly armed with a pocketknife, a Glock, and a long gun I had a sinking, suspicious feeling was one of the guns that had escaped the grasps of us in the chaos that was the 'Uncle Mo' fiasco. The damn ones that would pierce police armor. Unfortunately, that was the one he had in his hands, and that was the one he had pointed at me. His finger was on the trigger, and I raised my gun to shoot, but there was one large man with one blurry outline, and I couldn't make out where his vitals were. I couldn't help it. I blinked my eyes roughly, and shot, but I missed, and that was all Velote needed. He aimed the gun to my heart, fired, and shot.

I grunted in pain as he sent another one that hit my lower shoulder, and only vaugely noticed Tank firing his own gun at the man, and then all shots stilled. I was crumpled on the floor, clutching my chest with my good arm, and recognized that I was bleeding hard. I barely had time to think as dots flashed before my eyes.

This hurt like hell. I hadn't been shot here before. Just various places near it. My legs, arms, even my side had been shot, but no where this close to my heart.

"Shit!" Tank said somewhere close, above me.

Oh God, I thought. I'm dying. That was my last concious thought as I fell on the floor, breathing dangerously shallow.

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Steph's POV

When I got the news, I think my heart stopped. Ranger...

I never thought he could be dying in the hospital. That was usually my reality. Ranger was indistructable. Ranger was Batman. Ranger was Rambo. Hell, Ranger was even Big Blue. But Ranger wasn't going to die.

He couldn't. No matter how bad (or good) my denial was, I could never think of a life without Ranger in it. I could never be a bounty hunter if Ranger wasn't there. I never would of been a bounty hunter if Ranger wasn't there.

Ranger was one of my best friends. He wasn't going to die.

I had heard the news from Morelli. It appeared that a skip got the best of him, but now the skip was dead. I supposed he got shot either from Ranger before he went down, or another of his merry men. Tank and Bobby and Lester were there, and they had immediately carted him off to the hospital. The police had arrived to find the FTA dead, and Bobby pacing roughly through the house. He was told to stay there to talk to the police while Ranger was carried and speeded to the hospital.

I couldn't help my reaction. I backed down to the couch and put my head between my knees and stayed there for a few minutes. Morelli had gotten a call on his cell, and stepped into the other room to receive it. I didn't even here him talking to whoever it was. I was busy thinking about Ranger, and how he was probably dying in the hospital. The gun had pierced his vest, and had continued on through his upper left chest.

This was incredibly vital. I couldn't believe someone could surivive that.

So that clinched it. I grabbed my pocketbook and sprinted outside and leaped into Big Blue, and raced off towards the hospital. I needed to see if he was alright. I needed to see if he needed me.

---------------------

When I got there I jogged into the lobby, and asked the receptionist where they were keeping him. I forgot to breathe, and I also forgot a very important detail, his name, but the receptionist knew who I was talking about.

"He's on the fifth floor, but he's in critical condition. They aren't letting anyone other than family mem-"

I didn't need to hear any more. I pushed through the doors and despite the receptionist's calls of "Miss! Miss!" I took the stairs two at a time to the fifth floor.

Despite my clenched breaths, I had just ran up five flights of stairs, so I was pretty winded. The elevator, which I had considered too slow at the time, was now getting to look more and more appealing. But when I reached the fifth floor and passed the waiting room, I couldn't help but see a large black guy sitting in a seat, head in his hands, elbows on his knees.

"Tank?"

Tank looked up and his features were creased and full of worry, but they brightened when he saw me. He stood up in a flash and hugged me in a big bear hug, which I thought was a little weird because Tank didn't seem the hugging kind. He quickly ended the embrace and looked at me at arms length. It was then that I asked him.

"How's Ranger?"

His look went back to the worried friend and he turned to look down the corridor. "Not good. The bullet was just an inch and a half above his heart. If it was any lower..."

I cringed and he didn't finish. We both knew what would happen if it went any lower.

"I mean, I always thought Ranger was immortal." Tank said offhandedly. "Not really of course, but he was always the tough guy. He never got hurt like this."

I decided it wasn't the best time to mention that this was the most Tank had ever said to me. "How did he let that bastard shoot him, Tank?" I asked steadily. That was a total un-Rangerlike thing to do.

Tank looked like he was contemplating the answer, than he said quickly, like he just remembered, "He's been tired lately. I don't think he's been getting any sleep."

Shit. Shit shit and double shit. I had kept him up till nine the other night, mabye later. I racked my brains then, and remembered he looked tired, but I was so wound up in my own problems that I hadn't noticed. And, with an extra kick in the gut, I remembered that I hadn't even told him I was going off with Morelli, never thanked him for being there in the first place.

And now he was in there, slowly dying...

Shit!