AN: So I'm a lying liar that lies. Lieutenant Manoso won't shut the hell up in my head. This is what came out when I sat down to write chapter 15 of Ranger's Rangers. Hopefully it explains his mindset to you. This poor guy has some serious guilt issues. Usually, my husband pre-reads for me, but he's going to be stuck at work until tomorrow morning because of the awful weather and I was anxious to post so…if its sucks be kind. This starts with his visit on Alex's birthday, but skips ahead (and back) later.

Any recognizable characters are the property of their respective owners. This plot, however, is all mine.

RPOV

I had had a really bad feeling about going to see her, but I had to do it. I'd thought about the anguish I had caused this woman every day for over a year. I had to apologize and let her know that if there was anything I could do to help, that I was at her disposal.

Lieutenant Anthony Morelli and I had only ever served together for those last few months, but working so closely together our whole squad had become pretty tight. I could tell he was a good man and that he was deeply in love with his wife. He carried their wedding picture in his breast pocket of his uniform and would pull it out every so often. He showed it to me one night when we were both standing guard. She was a very beautiful bride and they looked incredibly happy and I told him exactly that.

Two days later he was gone.

We'd evacuated the entire building, disgusted at how many women had been held captive there. All of the captors were quickly eliminated, but one of them must have started the fire before he was shot. We could already smell the smoke coming from the rooms behind us. Santos, Brown and I were sweeping the last two rooms on the ground floor for any more captives. We heard debris falling in the hallway and went to investigate. Huge flames completely engulfed the back of the building and were fast approaching us. Smoke so thick we could barely breathe.

"You three, out now! I'll be right behind you." The lieutenant ordered.

"Sir we have to…"

"I said fucking go!" He'd yelled over the roaring flames.

I was the last one out the door when the ceiling caved in on top of him. All seven of us frantically dug through bits of smoldering debris until we had him uncovered. But we were too late, he was already gone, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

We dragged him away from the flames and into the courtyard in front of the burning building. I could hear the whumping of helicopter rotors, and could see nothing over the swirling smoke. Our back up arrived ten minutes too late. We hadn't waited for them and had gone in early as one of the sentries had seen us moving into position and raised the alarm. We had had intelligence that there were as many as fifty girls being held there as a stop in a worldwide sex-slave ring, we didn't want to risk them being hurt in an effort to cover up the atrocities that were occurring here. Lieutenant Morelli was the only American casualty. He made sure every single innocent civilian was out of there and then selflessly ordered us out probably knowing that the building was about to collapse, staying behind to check that one last filthy room for hostages.

The entire squad had accompanied his body home, as we needed to be debriefed on everything that had been discovered. There was a definite link between Al-Qaeda and human trafficking, but the building had burned down before we could find any actual evidence.

I wasn't at liberty to tell most of this to his widow, but I owed him my life and if the guilt I lived with every day could be assuaged by putting myself to use for his wife, then I would do it.

I felt a pang when I approached the house. There were colorful balloons and streamers decorating the front porch. I was reminded of how his wife had reflexively cradled her little belly and with a flash of horror I'd realized that he had not only left a beloved wife behind, but an unborn child.

I swallowed down my nervousness and climbed the steps. I could hear the babbling of a young child through the open door. I could see straight to the kitchen to where she was standing at the counter. I rang the bell and she scooped up the baby and came to the door. I couldn't believe how different she looked. Tired and drawn. The woman I had seen in person all that time ago, had been young, vital. When she looked at her son though, I saw a flash of that vibrant bride from their photo.

I could tell right away that she didn't recognize me. It wasn't until I let slip that I had thought she was pregnant the last time I saw her that I saw the penny drop. When she slumped into that chair I thought she was going to withdraw like she did after screaming at us all those months ago, but she surprised me by gently settling her little boy on the floor and marching past me. I don't know if I've ever had someone outside of the military lay into me the way she did. It weirdly made me feel better to have her voice the feelings that had been rolling around inside me since it happened. Why did I get to live and this woman's husband had to die? I had family, sure, but I had no wife or children. No one absolutely dependent on my safe return. I hadn't personally been responsible for him being killed, but it'd taken the last year and a half to come to that realization. I had been career track in the Corps, but when that last tour was up I just couldn't bring myself to stay.

It was a relief when her mom arrived that day. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave her all alone again. I left my information with her, but had little hope that she'd ever willingly contact me.

I don't know why I chose to settle in Trenton. With my IT training I could probably find a job anywhere. Sure it was close to Fort Dix, where I would be doing my reserve training, but that wasn't the only Marine Corps reserve base.

I found a nice house on the outskirts of the city and had enough money to put a large down payment on it. My mom had kept my SUV running while I was away, so I had my car. I was hired as a civilian contractor at the local FBI office doing IT work. It was mind numbingly boring compared with what I used to do, but it was incredibly relaxing to not be constantly in the line of fire. I was moving mechanically through the motions of assimilating back into regular society. Sleeping was the hardest part, I had gotten very used to sleeping in barracks or out in the field, where I was never alone and it was never silent. At night in my bed, even if I left the TV on, it still took me forever to fall asleep. And when I did sleep, the dreams I had were enough to wake me up and keep me up. I did everything that I was supposed to do after leaving active duty. I exercised religiously, I ate right, made friends at work and hooked up with other veterans. Nothing ever stopped those dreams though.

Every now and then I would go out and just drive when I couldn't sleep. More often than not, I would cruise by Mrs. Morelli's house, I thought about her so much it was probably unhealthy. The urge to lighten her burden was incredibly strong, like the key to escaping my nearly overwhelming survivor's guilt was in somehow making her life better.

Tonight I had barely closed my eyes before the dreams started up again. More of that fiery building, only this time the one victim I couldn't get to was her. She was sitting in the corner of the smoky room, alone and scared, crying. But every time I tried to cross the room there was an unmovable, invisible barrier between us. I snapped awake hearing her blood curdling scream and lay panting, heart pounding, I pulled my drenched shirt off and tossed it across the room. I didn't need a therapist to interpret that dream. Tomorrow was the second anniversary of the lieutenant's death. In the six months since I had gone to her house she had never contacted me and I decided I would give her one more week and then approach her again. I'd do anything she wanted, paint her house, unblock a drain, shovel snow from her driveway.

The sour smell of dried sweat got me up and into the shower. I pulled the sheets off the bed and threw them in the washing machine. I stared into the fridge, but came up empty handed. I flicked through every channel on the TV and found nothing that I wanted to watch. I was too restless to read, so I grabbed my keys and drove around. I eventually cruised by her house. I felt like such a creep doing this, but I felt the need to check on her. Usually the lights were out, but tonight the lights in the front room were blazing and I could see her silhouette through the curtains. It looked like she was pacing with the baby in her arms. I guess I wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping. I had to force myself to step on the gas, when what I really wanted to do was pull over and knock on her door. I wanted to offer to take care of her son so she could rest. I remember how my sisters complained about how exhausting it was when my nieces would wake them up in the middle of the night. Both my sisters were married and had a partner to share the parenting duties. This poor woman was all alone in this. By the time I got home, I was getting sleepy again, so I laid on the couch and managed to get a few dreamless hours of sleep in.

The only things on my agenda the next day were to run five miles and to visit Anthony's grave. I had found out that he had been laid to rest in a family plot, but as a recipient of the Medal of Honor had received a special headstone. I hadn't been able to bring myself to go there yet, but felt the need to purge some more demons today. I felt so weak for not being able to move past this yet. Maybe if I said some things to him there I could let go of some of it.

Something had to give and soon.