Dear everybody,

I've returned from Africa and started writing again. The story is almost finished, at least on my computer J. So here are 6 chapters in one go, to bring you up to speed again. Once I've finished it, I'll put it all in one nice document. Warning for the chapters ahead: they get emotional and intense.

Hope you enjoy! Reviews welcome.

Ann.

Title: It's all about living life
Chapter 24: Right or wrong… or left
Author: Ann (Chrystalsandsnowflakes)
Rating: (G to NC-17): Some language and adult themes in the next few chapters!
Spoilers/Warnings: Takes place in the future, so after EOT.
Summary: Right handed Ranger feels 'left' out because of his hand injury.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, I just play with them. Thanks for the reviews!

Right or wrong… or left

I looked at my watch. It was past 9 pm, time to go home for today. With a sigh I put the last folder on my 'out' stash. Tomorrow I would give the files to the right people for further processing, but all the office workers had gone home for the day. The night crew was watching the monitors in the control centre. Apart from that, the office was quiet. I still wasn't a big fan of paperwork, but I knew that, as a senior staff member, it was part of my duties. I get a nice salary and a hefty bonus normally for my extra hours, so it wasn't all for nothing. Besides, it did give me a good idea of what went on in the business. However, now that me and Lula were together, I had built up a slight backlog of paperwork, so this week I would stay late a few evenings to catch up. I got up and stretched my muscles. I'm not made for sitting behind a desk for hours on end. I shut down my computer, got my gun and phone and locked my office. I was only mildly surprised to see a small line of light coming from Ranger's office. He had left the office around 5.30 this afternoon and had returned about an hour later in a vile mood. I had tried to find out where Ranger had been, but he had turned off the GPS tracker after he left the office. Still, to me that was just as much information as when the tracker had been on. Ranger hardly ever switched his tracker off, it was only to go home or when a woman was involved. And since he hadn't gone home and there was only one woman in his life currently, or at least occupying his mind right now, I knew that Ranger probably went to Stephanie's apartment. I don't think that Ranger knew that I was aware of his little visits to Stephanie's place. I can see why Ranger would do it. Being in love myself now, I understood the need to feel close to someone, even if that person wasn't there physically. But something must have happened, because he had been barking at everybody who came within a 10 feet radius when he came back. It hadn't taken long before everybody had made sure to get out of his way and after 10 minutes of shouting he had left the control room and slammed the door of his office and I hadn't seen him since. I don't think Ranger had eaten dinner yet, so I decided to find out what was going on.

I knocked on the door and after an affirmative noise on the other side, I opened the door. Best not to barge right in, when he was in one of his moods. You never knew if you would make it out alive. Ranger was sitting behind his desk, his laptop plugged into the network and files laying across his desk. His eyes still showed that his mood hadn't improved much since this afternoon.

"I'm going home," I said, testing the waters of Rangers mood with this fairly neutral announcement.

"Good for you." Wow, clearly still pissed off.

"What's your problem?" See how he responded to a more direct challenge.

"Excuse me?" Ranger slowly looked up from his work and his eyes were giving me a warning not to take this any further. Tough.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing." And to prove it, he started typing on his computer again, but with only his left hand. Odd. I couldn't see his right hand, he had it under the desk.

"What's with the one handed typing?" Ranger looked at me again, trying to scare me off. Well, I've got news for you, I don't get scared easily. I looked straight back at him, and in the end he was the one who broke eye contact. I knew that I had won, it was all a matter of extracting the information now. I walked closer to his desk. It had to be related to the one handed typing. Ranger hated paperwork just as much as I did, so he learned to type really fast to speed things up. If he injured his hand, his right hand above all, he would be pissed because it would slow him down in everything he did. I had reached his desk, and Ranger stopped typing, but didn't look at me.

"Why aren't you using your right hand, man?" Ranger closed his eyes for a moment and then slowly put his right hand on the desk. I whistled softly between my teeth. All the knuckles were swollen and looked very bruised. Two knuckles had open wounds on them.

"How did that happen?" I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. I was convinced he went to Stephanie's apartment, but that didn't explain his injury.

"Accident." Yeah right. This from a man who has cat like reflexes.

"Accident with what?"

"Accident with a wall." Ah, I understood now. He probably had been frustrated about something related to Stephanie and somehow his fist had connected with a wall, resulting in this injury.

"Some accident." He actually gave a short bark of cynical laughter.

"You've been to see Bobby yet?"

"No, I don't think something's broken." Mmm.

"Maybe you want to let Bobby decide that."

"Maybe I don't." I almost laughed at that. Ranger was sulking! I had done something similar myself once. I had been pissed off because of a letter that I had received and had wildly swung my fist around and it had connected with the corner of a kitchen counter. It had been very painful and it had taken 2 weeks before it was fully healed. At that moment it had seemed like a reasonable reaction, but when telling the story to friends they just looked back with a slightly blank face, asking 'but why did you hit the counter, just hit the couch.' When you have the training that Ranger and I did, your responses can become more automatic sometimes. In combat you didn't think, you acted or you died. But try explaining that to the outside world. You just end up feeling foolish. Guess Ranger was experiencing one of those moments.

"Go home, Tank." Ranger was not in a talkative mood.

"And you?"

"I've got work to do." Yeah, and by the looks of it, it would be a long night for him, typing with one hand.

"Okay, see you tomorrow." There was no reply. I turned around and walked out of the office. If the hand looked just as bad tomorrow, I would tell Bobby. But right now Ranger clearly wanted to be left alone.

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Morelli dropped on the couch. Home at last! Bob jumped on the couch with him, and put his head on his leg. He gave Bob's head a quick ruffle, thinking about the events of the past few days. The Fed's, or more precisely agent Fresco, had asked him if he was interested in working a big case. They were investigating a large drug cartel and it turned out that there also were some links with Trenton. She asked him to head the Trenton team, with her as his contact for the FBI. The case was big, he had understood that much from her short description of what they had found so far. It would be a big career thing for him if he did this right, not to mention he would get to work with agent Fresco. She had been on his mind a lot lately, he admitted he felt attracted to her. He had never thought that that would have been possible, so soon after his marriage had ended, but there it was. He guessed her about the same age as he was, maybe a few years younger. She was eager and intelligent, and that usually gave good results in investigations. But it would mean working long days for the next couple of months. That wasn't really a problem. He needed time to adjust to his new situation, and a complicated case would help him to take his mind of things. Besides, working with agent Fresco would be really nice as well. He knew he would call her first thing tomorrow to let her know that he had read the file and would like to lead the Trenton investigation.

"Come on, Bob. Time for a walk." He pushed Bob of the couch and got up again himself. He got Bob's leash and clipped it on Bob's collar. After the walk he would take a quick shower and then crash. It would be early tomorrow and he had something to look forward to. Yeah, life was looking good again!

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Ranger turned in his bed for the umpteenth time. He couldn't get comfortable. His right hand was throbbing and he couldn't find a good position to lay in. His mind was still filled with thoughts about Stephanie and Rangeman. He had worked until a little past 2 am and then went up to his apartment. After a quick shower he had expected he would have no trouble sleeping, but his hand had kept him awake and then the thoughts had started flying around and he knew he couldn't get to sleep anymore. He had tried for a while, but it was after 4 am now. He gave in and got up, walking to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and almost dropped it. Shit, he had almost no grip with his right hand. He grabbed the glass again, this time with his left hand, and put it in the sink. He opened the tap with his left hand and when the glass was full, he closed it before taking the glass out of the sink again. This hand injury was a big pain in the ass. He was right handed, and he couldn't even hold a pen right now. His whole right hand was swollen and stiff from the impact. It had been a stupid thing to do, but it had happened on impulse. Still, it meant he couldn't do takedown work for a few days and that affected his business. He had acted unprofessional, even if it was about something personal, and he hated that. He grabbed an icepack from the fridge and slowly placed it on his hand. The coldness of the icepack gave a very painful feeling, but he knew from experience that it would take a couple of minutes before the coolness would numb his hand a bit. He found some tape and taped the icepack to his hand and went back to bed. Maybe Tank had been right and he should let Bobby take a look at it.

His alarm went off too soon. He realised that he had maybe gotten about 1 hour of sleep. For a moment he contemplated not going running this morning, but the cool morning air and the exercise would help him to wake up. He rolled out of bed and carefully removed the icepack and tape from his hand. He tried to move his hand, but that resulted in a lot of pain shooting through his fingers and wrist. Shit, shit shit! He went to his closet and pulled out a black t-shirt and sweat pants. The t-shirt was easy to put on, but the pants were already more difficult, using only 1 hand. Socks were harder and by the time he was trying to tie his shoes he was ready to scream. Tying a knot with only his right hand was already very difficult, but with only his left was almost impossible. But he had no shoes without laces that he could use for running, so he struggled on. In the bathroom, the next challenge presented itself: brushing his teeth with his left hand. Twice he made the wrong move and tasted blood from his gums. He was getting irritated and that didn't do him any good. He took a deep breath to calm himself and finished brushing. He walked to his door, noticing that his shoes felt different because he hadn't been able to tighten the laces. Mmm, he'd better not break an ankle. He greeted the 2 guys at reception and left the building.

It took him longer than usual to find his pace. Lack of sleep, no focus and the pain in his hand all contributed to that. So when he came back after about an hour he felt tired and irritated in stead of ready and clear minded. Great. He went up to his apartment and kicked off his shoes and clothes. Maybe a warm shower would help, but even drying off was difficult with one hand and now he was struggling with the button of his pants. He put on his usual black outfit, but when he was putting on socks, he realised that he wasn't able to tie the shoes that went with that outfit. He was contemplating changing but decided that he sure as hell wouldn't wear a suit with a button down shirt or change and struggle with everything again, so he would have to find a solution to the shoe problem, when Ella knocked on the door and came in with breakfast.

"Good morning, Ranger." She looked surprised at him, and he realised he still didn't have a t-shirt on and was on his socks.

"Good morning, Ella." She placed the tray on the kitchen counter and observed him.

"Are you alright?" Women seemed to have a nose for knowing when something was wrong.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Mmm, you look tired." Then her eyes zoomed in on his hand. Shit.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes big.

"It's nothing, I hit something hard." She looked at him for a moment and then turned around and walked to the door. That was easy, guess she got used to the occasional injuries. Job hazard. Or she realised it was pointless to say something about it, it wouldn't change him. Ranger looked at the tray. He was hungry and then realised he couldn't cut anything. There were some pieces of fruit that he could eat with one hand, but he couldn't cut the bagels, nor could he put something on them. Great. Turns out eating granola with your left hand is pretty tricky too. His right hand and wrist were throbbing and he got some Tylenol from the bathroom. Ranger swallowed a couple. It would help with the pain, but he still had no power in his hand or wrist whatsoever. He looked at his feet. How to solve the shoe problem? He looked in his closet again, and spotted his old black trainers. He wasn't going to do a takedown anyway, so he didn't need his steel toed boots. He struggled with the laces and it took him 5 minutes before he had them on. Right, ready for work. More or less anyway.

He went into his office and looked at the information that had come in overnight. A few emails were quite interesting, and they kept him occupied for a few hours. After that he went into the control room. He had put on a long sleeved sweater to disguise the wrist and hand injury, but after his mood from yesterday, probably nobody was going to ask a question anyway. He was right. But Tank was there and he asked if he could speak with him in his office. When he followed Tank into his office, Tank closed the door behind him.

"So what really happened?" Tank asked. No need to tell Ranger that this was about the hand.

"I hit a wall." Tank gave him a look.

"How come?" Ranger knew he could trust Tank, but still. It felt stupid now.

"I was angry and didn't realise that the wall was there." For Tank this was enough of an explanation.

"Angry about what?" He looked straight at Ranger. Ranger was quiet for a moment, thinking of how to say this.

"Angry about a message I received."

"From Stephanie?" Tank pushed on. Ranger gave him a quick look. Just how much did Tank already know? After a moment he gave a quick nod.

"What did she say?"

"She didn't say anything, she wrote me a postcard."

"What did she write?" Tank probed.

"She warned me… not to start looking for her."

"Ah," Tank said softly and his eyes showed his understanding for the injury.

"So how's the hand?"

"Bad. I'm going to call Bobby in a minute, something's not right."

"You break anything?"

"Maybe."

"I'll ask Lester to help with the takedown tomorrow." Ranger just nodded.

Tank gave Ranger a slap on his left shoulder for sympathy and then walked towards the door of the office again. Ranger followed and went to his own office to call Bobby.

"Yo boss."

"Can you come into my office for a moment? Take a First Aid kit."

"What happened?"

"I hurt my hand."

"Okay."

Bobby walked in Rangers office 5 minutes later, carrying the kit with him.

"What's up, boss?" Ranger held up his right hand, and Bobby whistled softly.

"Let me see that hand," Bobby said.

"Wow, how did you do that?" The hand and wrist had turned purple and blue overnight.

"Accident with a wall," Ranger said dryly.

"Ah," Bobby said. He carefully took hold of Ranger's right arm and looked at the wrist and hand.

"How did you hit the wall?" Bobby asked. Ranger tried to make a fist with his right hand, but stopped that movement immediately and showed it with his left hand instead. It hadn't escaped Bobby's attention that Ranger couldn't move the right hand anymore.

"You hit the wall with a fist, in a straight angle?" Bobby asked. Ranger nodded.

"Mmm, you could have fractured the bones of your hand or even your wrist. Let's see. Can you stretch out your fingers?"

Ranger tried but it was very uncomfortable.

"Not completely," Ranger said.

"Okay. Can you make a fist?" Since Ranger already had tried that he just nodded 'no'.

"Right. Can I feel?" Ranger nodded. Bobby felt around, starting at Rangers' fingers and going up to his hand. He was about halfway on his hand when he touched something that had pain shooting up Rangers' arm. Instinctively he tried to withdraw his hand and Bobby let go.

"That's sensitive."

"Thought so." Then he started gently rotating the hand and wrist. After only a few centimetres, Ranger withdrew his hand with a sharp intake of his breath because of the pain.

"I'll drive you to hospital," was all that Bobby said. Ranger just nodded.

He was back 3 hours later, his arm in a sling and his wrist immobilized in a splint. After much prodding, feeling and x-rays, they had decided that he had cracked two bones in his hand and there was a fracture in his wrist. Due to the swelling they weren't able to give him a cast yet, so they had put on a splint and given him painkillers. He had to come back in 5 days for another x-ray and if it all looked okay they would put a cast on his hand and wrist, which he had to keep on for 4 to 6 weeks. He felt deflated. He was out of action for 5 weeks at least! He couldn't drive, it took him hours to get dressed and he could only type with one hand. And all that because of one moment of emotion.