I woke with a start, the sensation of falling stirring me from sleep. My heart was racing out of my chest. I sat up and did a quick assessment of the situation. The clock read 11:16 PM. I was in bed, still dressed in my pajamas. I had to admit that my panties were uncomfortably wet, but I was fully clothed and in Ranger's bed.

It hadn't happened. It had all been a dream. I hadn't chronically fucked up my life. The relief was palpable.

I sucked air and tried to calm my racing heart. It had seemed so real. It was so vivid. I let a few tears spill onto my cheeks—tears of relief that it had been a dream. Tears of pent-up anxiety from the past weeks merged with the others, causing a snot-dripping, air-sucking, sobbing fiasco.

The bedroom door opened, light washing over the room.

"Babe."

I scrambled to my feet and across the mattress, throwing myself into Ranger's arms. He seemed startled by the intensity of my response, but I didn't acknowledge it, wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist. I laugh-cried into his hair, the intoxicating scent of Bulgari green shower gel mixing with his perspiration.

He held me tight and rubbed my back.

"What happened?" he asked, clearly concerned.

"Dream," I choked out between laughs and sobs. "Nightmare. And probably hormones."

"What can I do?" he asked, awkwardly carrying me over to the bedside where he rocked me back and forth until I had quieted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, genuine worry in his tone.

"I'm good," I said, fanning my face. "Really. Just a nightmare."

"I remember Rachel had intense dreams when she was pregnant with Julie," he explained, his face serious. "I think it's a pregnancy thing."

I loosened my death grip on Ranger and slid onto the bed beside him, lacing my fingers with his.

"When did you get back?" I asked.

"Around an hour ago," he explained. "You were asleep when I got here, so I was in the living room finishing up some documentation. I didn't want to wake you."

I nodded my understanding.

"Sorry I didn't wait up for you," I said. "It was an emotional rollercoaster of a day."

"Babe, that's silly. Don't apologize," he said, rubbing my back with his free hand. "Not only are you pregnant, but you've also got a lot going on. You need rest."

I worried my lip between my teeth.

"I think maybe I need to talk to someone. About… you know," I explained hesitantly.

His face grew more serious.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed. "What do you need?"

"I don't think anything specifically," I explained, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. "I think I need to unload some of this heaviness I'm carrying around. I don't think I realized how much there was until you raced off with Tank to save the world."

My voice cracked, and another tear slid down my face.

"Babe," Ranger said, sadly wiping away the tear.

"Don't do that," I said. "You can't. Tell me you won't."

"What?" he asked, failing to understand my demand.

"Don't go running off to play Batman without telling me," I said, my tone bordering on anger.

He studied me.

"It upset you that much?"

I smacked myself in the forehead with my palm and rolled my eyes.

"Yes, it bothered me that much!" I argued. "I thought we were a team. A couple. Two people working toward a common goal. Running off to play Rambo while locking me in your parking garage is not compatible with the team vision," I said, using air quotes to emphasize the word 'team.'

He smirked.

"You did smash my Cayenne," he said playfully.

I didn't laugh.

"I'm serious. If we're together, we've got to communicate. Don't do this to me."

Ranger's face grew serious.

"Okay. I'm sorry," he said. "It didn't occur to me to tell you. I just… went."

"You've always operated independently. But neither of us can do that anymore. We're a team, and we have a third member on the way."

The corner of Ranger's mouth turned up in a small smirk at the mention of the baby. He drew me into his lap and placed one of his large hands over my abdomen. I placed my hands over his.

"How is Baby Guppy?" he asked, brushing his lips across my neck.

"Fine, I guess," I said. "Maybe sort of hungry."

He elicited a small laugh.

"Let's fix that," he said, standing and pulling me to my feet. "Anything in particular sound good?"

"Pancakes," I admitted sheepishly.

He gave a hearty laugh.

"Not what I expected," he said, ushering me out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. "And not something I make. I'll have to Google it."

"You're cooking?" I said, failing to hide the surprise in my voice.

"Sure, why not?" he said, flipping on the kitchen lights.

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He had cooked fairly successfully in Maine.

Ranger typed something into his phone and browsed around, finally settling on a recipe he thought he could handle. He began pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry. He grabbed a bowl from a cupboard and began measuring ingredients into it, stirring up a white batter.

"Have you talked to your parents?" I asked.

Ranger nodded.

"Mamí seems to be back on her feet and adapting to her new normal," he said.

"Thank god," I breathed, relieved.

He nodded.

"I know she didn't want to go down this path, but I think she's going to be alright," he admitted. "Her prognosis is a lot better now. I'm selfishly grateful. I want her to be around to enjoy her future grandbaby."

He smiled as he placed a skillet on the stove, and I smiled back.

"Do you think we'll be good parents?" I asked.

"I wouldn't know why not," he said. "We're competent."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You're competent," I scoffed as he poured batter into the pan.

"Babe," he said, giving me a look.

"It scares the bejesus out of me," I admitted.

"I'll have Ximena get you scheduled with somebody to talk to," Ranger said, bringing up our earlier conversation. "About parenting, and everything else that's going on, too. I'm glad you're open to that. It can help."

"It's helped you?" I asked cautiously.

He flipped the pancake, then glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Yeah," he acknowledged with a shrug. His brows furrowed. "When you're in the military, you see some tough shit."

He paused, pushing the skillet around on the burner.

"I thought I could ignore it and remain unaffected… but I was wrong. I've seen therapists and psychiatrists. I'm not ashamed of it… but I'm not really one to talk about it."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to pry," I interjected.

The right side of his mouth tipped up, amused.

"Babe, we live together. We're getting married. We're having a baby. No topic is off limits."

He took a plate out of the cupboard and slid the pancake onto it, setting it in front of me. He turned his attention to the fridge, digging around until he came up with a small bottle of maple syrup and some butter.

"It look marvelous," I said, accentuating the "mmm."

He laughed, setting a fork and knife in front of me.

"You haven't tasted it yet."

I raised an eyebrow, smothered the pancake in butter and syrup, then cut into it. I sniffed it playfully, and I could swear Ranger almost rolled his eyes.

"It's passable," I said in a smartass tone.

We both belly laughed, and he rubbed his eyes.

"It's great, actually. Thank you. You spoil me."

"That's the goal, Babe," he said with a panty-wetting wink.

He poured more batter into the pan.

"Where's Avalos?" I asked, remembering the woman who'd spent the evening with me.

"The FBI put her up in a hotel room," he explained. "She was beat. They'll finish debriefing with her tomorrow, then we'll get her sent to treatment."

I nodded my approval.

"Now that Fitch is off the street, are you going to take it easy?" I asked hopefully.

He nodded.

"Tonight wiped me out," he admitted. "It reinforced the need for my leave."

I nodded my understanding, thoughtfully chewing pancake.

"Are you feeling any better with him off the street?" he asked me, his eyes serious.

I sat quietly processing my thoughts, then shrugged.

"I don't know," I admitted. "It doesn't feel like reality yet. It's a lot to process."

He flipped the pancake, looking like he wanted to say something but remaining quiet.

"What?" I asked.

"Fitch can't hurt you anymore. Morelli made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Ranger chose his words carefully.

"Fitch tried to escape out a second story window at the back of the house. He got past the officers, but Brown and Morelli stopped him. Fitch pulled a knife and tagged Morelli in the arm. He wasn't badly injured, but he emptied his clip into Fitch. He looked like Swiss cheese when it was all over."

"Oh my god," I said, pushing my plate away.

Ranger raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"I don't think there will be charges, but there will be an investigation. Rangeman wasn't exactly part of the FBI operation—we invited ourselves," he explained. "I had to put Morelli on administrative leave until it gets cleared up—that's the paperwork I was working on before you woke up."

I sat quietly trying to process that information while Ranger plated up his pancake. He took a seat next to me at the bar and poured a small amount of syrup over his pancake. We sat in companionable silence as he ate.

"Finding you in that hotel really messed him up, Babe," Ranger said.

I stared at Ranger, unsure how to respond.

"He has put on a brave face for you," he confessed, "but he has struggled to pull it together behind the scenes. I think he relished mowing down Fitch. After what he did to you, I can't say I blame Morelli. I'd have done the same."

I swallowed hard thinking about Joe. He was a good friend and partner.

"If he wasn't constantly trying to steal you from me, I'd have to admit he's a decent guy," Ranger said begrudgingly.

I playfully punched Ranger in the arm, and he gave me a small grin.

"You going to finish your pancake?" he asked, eyeballing my last few bites.

I shook my head. "No, sorry. The Swiss cheese image did me in."

"Sorry, Babe."

He stabbed my leftovers and put them on his plate.

"I'm sorry about the Cayenne," I apologized. "I sort of lost it earlier."

"It can be fixed," he said, shoveling in a bite of pancake. "Besides, it was only a matter of time."

I woke alone to a rainy Thursday morning. The bedside clock let me know it was after ten, and Ranger's side of the bed was cold. I lazily brushed my teeth and captured my curls in a tight ponytail. I dressed in jeans and a white v-neck t-shirt, noting it was harder than usual to button my pants. I spent entirely too long trying to determine if it was a result of junk food or pregnancy, then gave up after realizing it didn't matter. I left the top button on the jeans undone and threw on some sneakers.

Ranger was sitting on the sofa scrolling on his laptop.

"Morning," I greeted, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

"Babe," he greeted, engrossed in whatever he was working on.

"What's got you so absorbed?" I asked, pouring a mug of coffee.

"My parents," he said, writing something on a notepad. "They found a few condos they think they like. I'm doing research."

I laughed. "You mean checking the sex offender registry against the addresses, looking at neighborhood crime reports, and running complete background checks on the property owners?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Thorough," he deadpanned. "I knew there was a reason I hired you."

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my coffee. I rolled it around in my mouth before spitting it out in the sink. I did some dry heaving, then washed my mouth out with water.

"Babe," Ranger said, his concern palpable.

"This is my baseline these days," I sighed, dumping my coffee in the sink. "Coffee smells wonderful, as always… but it tastes like poison. Thanks for ruining coffee, pregnancy," I grumbled, scolding my .

Ranger closed his laptop and joined me in the kitchen. He put ice in a glass and poured water over it, handing it to me.

"Can I make you any breakfast?"

"I'll pass for now," I sighed, sipping at the water.

"Ximena left your meds," Ranger said, gesturing to a Dixie cup on the counter. "She said she's got your last dose of methadone this morning. Something about how well you tolerated being tapered off, so she was able to speed up the process."

"Seriously?" I said hopefully, looking into the cup.

He nodded.

"It's not like you were a long-time user, Babe," he said in explanation. "I'm no expert, but it probably makes a difference."

I wasn't going to complain. This was excellent news. I obediently took the pills, hopeful that the anti-nausea meds would kick in sooner as opposed to later.

"Do we have plans today?" I inquired.

"Not really," he said, refilling his coffee cup. "Just doing my parents' bidding."

I took my water to the couch and unceremoniously flopped onto it.

"What should I do?" I asked.

"Whatever you want," he said, joining me on the couch.

I put my feet into his lap, and he began rubbing them. I sighed with contentment.

"You could rest. Have a movie marathon. Go buy yourself a car you love. You could go look at cribs at Pottery Barn, or go house shopping…"

"House shopping?" I asked, staring at him like he had four heads.

He shrugged.

"It'll be a tight fit with an infant here. There's only one bedroom. We could remodel but adding an additional bedroom would be challenging. Plus, we don't have a yard or a playroom."

We'd talked about an alternate living situation before, but I hadn't taken him seriously. It had seemed so… absurd. I was still having a hard time wrapping my mind around the idea.

"But living here is so… safe," I finally uttered.

Ranger studied me as he rubbed my calves.

"Babe, we'll find somewhere safe to live," he said softly. "I assure you, it will be safe."

"I guess I can look," I said hesitantly.

"No pressure," he said. "We can always stay here if you're not comfortable somewhere else. Think about it."

I woke on the couch from an unintentional nap around lunch time. Ranger was still on the couch scrolling on his computer. My nausea was much improved, and I was hungry.

"Good nap?" Ranger asked with a grin.

"It was great," I said, standing to stretch.

I wandered into the kitchen and tapped on Rex's cage. I dumped a few green hamster nuggets into his bowl, and he scrambled out of his soup can to stick them in his cheeks.

"Morning, Rex!" I greeted, tapping on his aquarium.

He stood up on his back legs, wiggled his whiskers, and chewed his nuggets. I took this as "good morning" in hamster.

I opened the fridge and pawed around, but I saw nothing that sounded appetizing. I dug around in the pantry until I found some long-forgotten Pop Tarts, retreating to the living room with them.

I turned on the TV and started flipping through shows, eventually landing on a travel show. Half a Pop Tart in, Ranger's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen before answering, but his expression gave no indication to the caller on the other end.

"Manoso."

He listened intently, his eyes scanning back and forth.

"Yes."

His brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing. I ate my Pop Tart, watching him with curiosity.

"Appreciate the update," he said before ending the call and dropping the phone on the couch beside him.

Ranger sat looking thoughtful but said nothing. Several minutes passed, and I'd nearly forgotten about the call when he spoke.

"That was Harker," Ranger finally said apprehensively.

I racked my brain for the name for a few seconds until recognition dawned on me.

"The FBI guy?"

Ranger nodded.

"They went to finish talking to Avalos today," he explained.

"Crap, did she take off?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"She's dead," he announced sadly. "Apparent overdose."

I felt my eyes widen, but I couldn't find words. I swallowed back the bile that was threatening to rise in my throat.

"We'll know more once the coroner completes an autopsy, but it will be a while. I'm sorry, Babe. I know you wanted to help her."

I felt tears sting my eyes. I swallowed hard and took a few deep breaths to collect myself. Sure, I didn't know Avalos well, but I felt for her. We had shared a strange bond, a common mission for our unborn children. She'd experienced horrific things at the hands of men who looked to profit off her and managed to escape. We'd promised to help her stay safe, but we'd not managed to save her from herself. The enormity of this tragedy was not lost on my heart.

I set my Pop Tart on the coffee table and launched myself at Ranger. He pushed his laptop aside and wrapped me in his arms as I broke into sobs, fueled by both grief and hormones.