JE created the characters below that I'm shamelessly abusing for my own fun.

Jenny (JenRar) you are an incredible beta, and I consider myself lucky to be able to work with you.

Chapter 4 – Cleaning Up

For the next twelve hours, I seemed to move in a fog. I napped a little, too worried about Manny to truly sleep. He looked horrible; the only consolation I had was that he didn't really look any worse than he had at the hospital.

I had followed Bobby's directions to the letter, having read them enough now to have them all memorized. Manny hadn't woken up fully since we'd gotten here, but he had made some noises in his sleep when it got close to time for me to top off his meds. I couldn't imagine the pain he had to be in, and I wondered how much of this I could handle. He might be the one with all the injuries, but taking care of him was starting to make me hurt, too.

After topping him off the moment the second hand crossed over the most recent two hour threshold, the cell phone the guys had given me began to ring. When I answered, Bobby was on the line, saying he was about to knock on the door. As soon as he said it, I heard four knocks just as they'd done at St. Elizabeth's, so I punched in the code and opened the door. As soon as he walked in, I relocked it and armed the system once more. Bobby smiled at my actions while dialing up someone else and telling them he had just entered, so the alarm was him.

With all that handled, he finally put his phone away and said, "How's the patient?"

I shrugged. "I've done everything you told me to, but he hasn't woken up."

Bobby and I moved to the den so that he could examine Manny himself. I sat down on the sofa and watched Bobby move with such ease. He did a bunch of checks I understood and a few I hadn't seen before. Then he said he was going to change the dressings and do some other things that I might not want to watch.

"Why don't you take a shower and change? You've got to be exhausted," he suggested.

I wanted to refuse, to stay and watch what he was doing, but I did feel the need to be clean. I also had a feeling that if Bobby thought I wouldn't want to see something, it was probably an understatement, so I took his advice and went in search of my duffle bag so that I could get clean.

I walked into the bathroom and felt eight years old again. The bright flowers on the wall and the orange and brown tiles reminded me of the nights I'd slept over here and how Nagymama would draw a bath for me and sprinkle all kinds of things in the water. She would put salts in for my skin and then different flowers to float on top. I remembered her explaining what the various blossoms were for: one was for good luck, one to ward off evil, one to make me fertile, and one was for love. I had no idea what the flowers were, but I remembered really loving it when she would go through the routine and then settle me in the tub before telling me, "Stay in there 'til the water is cold, child. You want the flowers to do their job, and you can't rush the things the Earth does." I'd had no idea what it meant, but I'd loved being allowed to take a long bath instead of having to rush through it like I usually did at home where we only had one bathroom.

Since Bobby was here I took a fast shower, glad to have the chance to get the effects of the day off of me. I wasn't sure how long I should linger, so I put my hand on the knob to shut it off, but I felt something cool on my hand, so I pulled it back. The water felt so good and that was such a strange sensation that I stood there for a minute with my hand back under the spray to get that icy feel off. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I could swear I heard, "That's it, child." My eyes bolted open, and I jerked the shower curtain open to be sure I was alone. Seeing no one and verifying the bathroom door was still closed, I shook my head and shut off the water, toweling off quickly and throwing on the clothes I'd packed.

I needed to talk to Bobby about how safe it would be for me to sleep, because obviously the exhaustion was catching up with me faster than my adrenaline could push it away.

When I went back to the den, Bobby was pulling the sheet back up over Manny's waist before tugging it around so that his injured leg was still uncovered.

"How is he?" I asked.

Bobby nodded and then explained, "He's doing great considering what he's been through."

"What else can I do for him?" I wondered, figuring if I was stuck in here anyway, I may as well keep busy.

"Nothing, really," Bobby replied much to my disappointment. "What you are doing is all he needs right now."

"Do you think it would be safe for me to sleep a little?" I asked, hoping it didn't sound too selfish in light of what Manny had gone through.

"Absolutely," Bobby replied, before doing what I considered to be a Merry Man version of an eye roll. "I'm sorry, Steph. I hadn't thought about how exhausted you must be. I can hang out here for a few hours so that you don't have to wake up to check on him. Why don't you find a bed and crash for awhile?"

I wanted to argue but figured he wouldn't have offered if he didn't mean it, so I nodded and went to the room I used to sleep in when I stayed here. The plethora of colors in the room made me blink like the sun was in my eyes. I had been blaming the décor of the house on the time period my great-grandparents lived here, but in thinking about it now, I think that was an unfair accusation to the seventies. I was convinced in looking at this that they just really liked bright colors. I didn't even pull back the covers before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep as soon as the pillow caught my head.

I woke up when I felt a hand shaking my shoulder and forced my eyes to focus on the person I was about to yell at for ruining what had been the best nap I'd had in a long time. When I saw that it was Bobby, who obviously didn't deserve my hostility, I tried to relax and make myself sit up.

"I'm sorry I can't stay any longer, Steph," he explained. "I just got a call from the control room; one of the guys running a redecorating job got a knife in the side, so I have to check it out."

I glanced at the clock and saw I'd gotten four hours, so I knew that despite the fact that I felt like I'd been hit by a truck, I couldn't really complain.

"I started a pot of coffee in case you need some," he said, enticing me to stand up and start moving.

"You are a god among men," I told him, starting to feel normal after getting the naptime kinks out of my body.

"That's right, Steph. You say the sweetest things to a guy in the bedroom, but would you make that same confession in front of all the guys?" he teased.

I smacked him and said, "Only if you did something that deserved it like making me coffee."

"Come on," he said with a laugh, pulling my hand either to guide me faster or to keep me from hitting him again, I wasn't sure which.

He went over what he'd done for Manny, and when he mentioned changing his catheter, I knew I'd made the right call to take a shower and give them some privacy.

"When do you think he will start to wake up?" I asked, not sure if it would be a good thing or not.

"I think we should keep him pretty heavily sedated for another day just to give his body a break after all it's been through. Sometime tomorrow, we'll start stretching the treatments out a little more to see how he's responding," Bobby explained while grabbing his windbreaker, obviously preparing to leave.

"Can I give him a bath?" I blurted out as we walked to the door.

Bobby turned around and blinked at me a few times, as though I'd just spoken in a foreign language. "If you can figure out how to do it without moving his leg or wetting the bandages I just changed, that would be okay."

It wasn't like I had anything else to do, so I figured it would keep me busy and probably make Manny feel better at the same time. After going through the clearance process of getting Bobby out, I set the alarm and started gathering supplies for cleaning Manny a little bit.

I found a basin in the bathroom and looked around in the drawers for something other than bar soap to get him clean. That's when I found glass bottles that had dried flowers in them. I pulled them all out, a little lost in my memory and touched that Grandma Mazur had kept these after all these years.

I pulled out the cork on the cap and sniffed one. It was pleasant, which shocked me after all this time. Then I noticed each of the bottles had writing on them, which I knew belonged to Nagymama. I couldn't read it, as it was in Hungarian. I looked at my watch and knew I had an hour and a half before Manny would need anything, so I carefully put all the bottles in the empty basin and took them back to the den to line them up on the coffee table, which had been pushed against the wall to make room for Manny's bed.

I grabbed the laptop, hoping it was fully charged, and pulled up a Hungarian to English translator online to work through each of the words she'd written on the bottles. I found myself sorting the various bottles by the descriptives. Love, passion, and fertility all went into the pile of bottles to be quickly hidden. Strength, courage, and sleep all went into the keep pile, but when I saw the bottle marked healing, I knew I had a winner. I pulled the cap off and took a sniff, not really smelling anything. I poured some out in my hand and tried again, only to get a faint hint of trees, like at Christmas. I figured he wouldn't mind being made to smell like the outdoors, so I put all the others away, packed up the laptop, and filled the basin with warm water before adding a pinch of the mystery stuff in my hand.

Knowing that wasn't going to do anything to get him clean, I also added a little of the body wash that had been mixed in with all the other medical paraphernalia. I decided to use a traditional washcloth so I could better control what I was wetting. He had a good number of bandages on him, and Bobby said to keep them as dry as possible. Finally having everything together that I thought I'd need, I made my way back to the den.

"All right, Manny," I said aloud, needing to talk to him even if he couldn't hear me or respond in any way. "I'm going to get you cleaned up, and then you'll feel much better so that you can rest easy."

I talked to him about nothing in particular and worked as carefully as possible. I started with his face, surprised at how much better his skin tone looked just from getting him clean. Encouraged that what I was doing was obviously worth it, I worked down his neck and arms, noting how strong the muscles felt along his biceps. There were a few bandages to be worked around, but other than those, I just worked and hummed or talked.

By the time I'd finished with his chest, I wondered if I should go any farther. The water was looking a little discolored, so I dumped it out and made a fresh basin complete with Nagymama's healing herbs and some bodywash. Then I realized I had a major decision to make. I knew Manny had a catherter in, which made me wonder if he had on any clothes under the sheet. And if he was naked, how much should I try to clean? I mean, obviously if I was trying to get all the grime away, I should get everything, including his groin, but that would mean touching his…well, his little Manny, and I felt like that was wrong, since he was completely unconscious.

Finally, I decided to treat it like a band aid and just rip the sheet back. I stood to the side, gripped the sheet in my fist, turned my head to look away, and then pulled it back. Thankfully, no one was there to watch me open only one eye and look back over my shoulder at the site of a fully naked man in front of me.

My first thought was how damn good looking he was. I'd never noticed it as much on Manny because I didn't spend much time with him, and he didn't wear his shirts as skin tight as some of the other guys, but he was definitely stacked. But before my Hungarian hormones could run crazy with thoughts of his body, I realized the extent of his injuries was evident, as well.

Aside from the major cast on his leg and arm, the bruising was purple and black, his darker skin tone doing nothing to hide the damage done to his body. After seeing just how hurt he really was, I no longer saw him as a sexy man asleep in front of me, but as a vulnerable one in need of care and protection.

I shifted to all business, beginning with the toes of his good leg and working my way up to his hips. I finally decided he was completely asleep and drugged to keep from waking up, so it would be safe to clean all his "equipment." But once I put the washcloth on what I now referred to mentally as "little Manny," I pulled my hand back, leaving the moist cloth there. I realized I wasn't able to keep the same detachment over his penis as I had about the rest of him. I looked at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on anything other than the sexual organ under the wet rag.

A low moan from Manny made me jump as I grabbed the cloth, perhaps more roughly than necessary, and threw it in the basin. Not wanting him to wake up and notice his nudity and my red checks, I quickly moved the sheet up to cover him, pulling it all the way to his chin for good measure.

It was exactly time for his next top off of medication, so I quickly got a fresh syringe, measured the meds as Bobby had taught me, and injected it into the port. Manny's face was beginning to show an expression that I couldn't figure out. It was part pain, part confusion, and perhaps a little anger. Tossing that combination off to how uncomfortable he had to be, I waited until the cocktail I'd given him kicked in and he relaxed once more.

Once I was absolutely positive he was asleep, I got up and put away the evidence of the bath. Then I made a note in his file that I'd cleaned him up and set the timer to go off in two hours in case I fell asleep and missed it.

The next twenty-four hours moved exactly like that. I gave Manny his meds, changed his IV bag, and made notes in his chart. Between tasks, I napped here and there, just enough to keep myself functioning but not enough to get rid of the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion.

By the time Bobby came the next night, I felt like I was running on fumes and hoped I could find a way to talk him into letting me take another nap. When I heard the familiar four knocks, I instantly ran to the door and jerked it open.

"Do I need to tell you how foolish that was?" Bobby asked, the smile on his face totally undoing the stern look he was attempting to go for.

I must have looked confused, because he added, "You didn't check to see who was knocking, or even call out for an ID."

"Well, you did use the secret knock," I explained, not sure why he was making such a big deal out of this.

He came in, called RangeMan to confirm he was here, and then watched as I reset the alarm. Only after that was all finished did he speak again. "I'm sorry to be harsh," he apologized. "But we still don't know for certain who did this to Manny. We have suspicions, but nothing has been proven yet, so there is no way to guarantee you remain hidden unless you help us to keep you protected."

I let out a long breath. This was all so much more complicated than I'd imagined it would be when I'd signed on to help. "I'm sorry, Bobby. I was glad to have a little company."

He pulled me to him in a hug, as though he were sorry to have gotten on my case. "I know this is hard, Steph. You're doing amazingly, really. I just hate that we aren't doing more to ensure your safety, and it's driving me crazy with worry."

"You're here now," I pointed out, hoping to get him away from thoughts of his worries about me.

"Let's check on our patient." Bobby accepted my subject change and moved into the den to run through all the checks he needed to do on Manny. Then he picked up the folder where I'd been recording everything and asked, "When is he due his next med top off?"

I glanced at the clock quickly and said, "Maybe ten minutes."

"Good. We're going to wait and see how he does when we miss it," Bobby explained. "We need to start stretching out the time between doses, and I need to get a pain reference from him to see if we need to change anything in his treatment."

"Okay, but he seems to get uncomfortable really quickly at the two hours mark," I pointed out, not really wanting to see Manny suffer.

Bobby tilted his head, as though he were confused. "Uncomfortable? How do you know that?"

"Sometimes, he'll make a little noise, and he gets a look on his face like he's upset, almost angry, so I assumed it was from the pain," I told him.

Bobby sat down hard in the chair I'd pulled over to be near the hospital bed. Then he put his hand over his face and rubbed the skin hard like he was attempting to clean the features completely off his face. "Damn it!" he finally spoke, making me wonder if his silence wasn't somehow preferable.

"What?" I asked, growing more worried by the second.

"Look, on his best day, Manny isn't the greatest patient at RangeMan. He's a physical guy; well, we all are, but Manny more than most. And these injuries are going to slow him down. I don't know if we'll ever get that leg and knee back to normal. He'll be able to walk around, but the grueling regimen he had of running and doing climbing drills…I doubt he'll be able to do it at the same level he used to," Bobby said, still holding his temples with his thumb and middle finger, like he was trying to squeeze his brain to make this easier.

"Plus…" Then he stopped and shook his head, like his internal censor had kicked in.

"Plus what?" I wondered, not about to let him stop talking where he'd left off.

"Well, were you aware that Manny had pulled his medical power of attorney from RangeMan?" he questioned.

"Ranger mentioned it. That was why I needed to pose as his wife, because in addition to the forged paperwork you had, it also gave me legal next-of-kin status to get him out of there," I replied, trying to remember what all Ranger had said when he'd woken me up to ask for my help.

"All that is true, but none of us knew why he'd pulled the papers from RangeMan, and Manny isn't a big talker, so it's not like he told anybody so we'd have a clue what he was thinking," Bobby rambled, not really explaining enough for me to calm down.

"What are you saying?" I pushed, hoping he wasn't about to clam up on me.

Bobby finally dropped his hand from his head and looked me in the eye. "I'm saying there's a more than likely chance that when he wakes up, he's going to be pissed as hell that we overrode his wishes and busted him out of that hospital. That on top of the fact that he's going to be hurting and will quickly come to understand these injuries will have some long-lasting effects is definitely going to make him hard to handle. Since he's never been a happy patient, I'm worried that when he wakes up, he's going to take all this out on you."

Ah, now I got it. "He can't get out of the bed, right?"

Bobby looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "No, it will be a while before he'll be able to move around on his own."

"Then, it doesn't matter how he wakes up," I assured Bobby. "He can't walk out of here, and I'm determined to help him get better, so he'll just have to deal with the fact that we got him out of the hospital to save his life and let the rest go."

"If it were anybody else, I'd agree with you," Bobby responded solemnly. "But if he's already looking angry, I'm thinking we won't be so lucky."

Manny began to make a few slight moaning noises, drawing our attention back to him. I looked at his face and watched as the resting expression began to harden and was replaced with that expression I'd seen before.

Bobby moved to stand beside me. "If it gets too bad, you can always drug him again. I'll keep his ass knocked out before I'll let him treat you like shit over this."

"Oh, Bobby, you silver tongued devil," I teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "You say the sweetest things to defend my honor."

He nudged me with his shoulder but smiled at the same time. Before either of us could say anything else, Manny's eyes began to flutter, as though he were fighting to wake up. I moved closer to be in his field of vision, but Bobby put his hands on my hips and pulled me back. I looked at him about to question what he was doing, but Manny spoke first.

"Brown?"

Bobby moved to take the place where I'd been and responded, "Yeah, man, I'm here."

"You—" Manny stopped to swallow and then continued with a deep furrow in his forehead "—son of a bitch."

"I didn't know you cared, man," Bobby teased. At least, I thought he was teasing. He wasn't smiling at all, so that made it hard to tell.

"What happened?" Manny asked as a follow up.

"We were hoping you might have some news," Bobby responded, his tone a little softer. "We think you were recognized and somebody in the organization you were infiltrating tried to take you out with a car bomb."

"Sounds familiar," Manny said, giving up his attempt to open his eyes. "Can't go back to RangeMan."

"No, not until we figure out who did it. Boss is still in there, so we can't risk them trying the same thing to Ranger," Bobby agreed.

"Pull the guards and leave. They'll make the connection when they see you," Manny tried ordering.

"No need, man. We've already busted you out," Bobby explained, looking like he was pleased with the direction the conversation was taking.

"How?" Manny's eyes shot open. "I pulled your authority."

"True," Bobby replied, "and we still need to talk about that shit. What in the hell were you thinking?"

Manny grimaced, telling me he was uncomfortable, but I was trying to stay out of it, because it sounded like a conversation that needed to happen. "None of your damn business," Manny cut off Bobby's question.

At that point, I couldn't stop myself from interfering. "All that matters now is that you're safe," I said, moving to stand at the other side of the bed.

Manny turned his head slowly to look at me, narrowing his eyes, as though that would somehow help with the focus, and then he moved back quickly to look at Bobby. "Why is she here?"

Bobby grinned at that question. "Manny, your wife, here, is how we got you out of the hospital without implicating RangeMan or blowing Ranger's cover."

"My…wha—?" Obviously he was struggling to keep up with the conversation.

"Your wife," Bobby repeated, helping him out.

Manny quickly found his voice again to adamantly state his lack of joy for the news of his matrimony. "I'm not married."

"On paper, you are, and that's all that mattered to the hospital when Stephanie marched in there, demanding they release you," Bobby offered, beginning to lose the smile that had been on his face.

"Whose fucked up idea was that?" Manny asked, beginning to build a head of steam as the drugs wore off.

"Ranger's," Bobby said flatly, matching Manny's mood with his own. "And if you want to kick somebody's ass for it, you'll have to wait for him to finish the assignment and get back."

Manny looked down the bed and stopped when he saw his leg, sticking out from under the sheet. "What's that?"

"Your leg," Bobby replied, trying to pull the tiger's tail.

"No shit, Sherlock." Manny was clearly unimpressed with Bobby's wit. "What's wrong with me?"

"Concussion, multiple lacerations, fractured arm, broken ribs, deep tissue bruising, a burn or two, shattered knee, and torn ACL," he listed off the injuries quickly. "The leg and knee are obviously the worst of it."

Manny mumbled something that I thought sounded a lot like not part of the plan.

"Yeah," Bobby interrupted his rant. "Sometimes the plan gives us the finger and we have to move onto Plan B, asshole."

This was the strangest conversation I'd ever seen at RangeMan. I'd always thought Bobby had the most wonderful bedside manner, so seeing him this hard and calloused was impossible to reconcile to the gentle man who always treated me so tenderly.

"Don't you think I know that?" Manny demanded, balling up a fist at the end of his good arm. "Plan B is what I was doing when I took the authority away from RangeMan."

"RangeMan doesn't allow suicide missions on our watch," Bobby replied flatly, as though he'd figured out what Manny was going on about.

Unfortunately, I was completely in the dark and feeling the need to diffuse the rapidly growing tension.

"All that matters now is that you have a place to get better, and then once you're up for it, this whole mess should be sorted out," I said, using that sunny disposition that seemed to work so well for other people.

Manny looked at me like my second head must have spoken before saying, "She has to go."

Bobby straightened up and crossed his arms in front of him before shaking his head no. "Actually, she is your round the clock nurse. I'm only here for a quick check up once a day, and then the rest of my day is spent being as public as possible so that no one can accuse RangeMan of harboring an injured agent possibly in possession of classified information."

"Has Ranger lost his fucking mind?" Manny practically yelled.

There was no immediate response. If anything, Manny's tone and words seemed to make Bobby get a few inches taller and lot meaner looking. My friendly medic was nowhere to be found in the hard eyes looking down at the injured man in the hospital bed.

"We pulled Steph from her life to take care of you. You want to be pissed at Ranger, then wait until he's back and you can get your broken ass out of that bed. But for now, I have to trust that she's safe when I leave you two alone for the next twenty-four hours."

"You expect me to keep her safe with my broken ass?" Manny asked, turning Bobby's words back on him.

"No, I expect you not to make her life a living hell just because you're upset about what the boss did to keep you alive. We've got plenty of systems in place to keep you both covered," Bobby replied flatly.

Then he turned away from Manny and looked directly at me. "Everything's fine here. Keep doing what you've been doing and call me if there are any changes. I left updated med instructions in the folder so he can be awake a little more. And I think it's a good idea to start trying to sit him up some in the bed. I put the details of that in there for you, too." Then he glanced back down at Manny before adding, "Feel free to keep him knocked out if he gives you too much shit."

I swallowed hard at that. Obviously this was about to get a lot more difficult. And as much as I was unsure what to make of Manny's anger, I was beginning to think I agreed with his initial question.

Had Ranger lost his mind when he asked me to do this?