Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize from the Stephanie Plum books belong to Janet Evanovich. The Inferna Angelus' on the other hand are solely mine as is the tiny terror tiger that rules them.

Chapter 55 – Loving One Means Loving All

Cedar Creek Behavioral Health Center, Stamping Ground, Kentucky

Lucia and Diego Rodríguez, Rubén, Bobby and Dr. Garvey were sitting on chairs in a circle talking about the happenings and feelings of the past week, when Bobby's cell phone announced an incoming call. Before even looking at the display, his heart plummeted into his stomach. Fear gripped at him and immediately his chest constricted leaving him unable to take a cleansing breathe. With his blank face firmly in place he excused himself and left the therapy room.

"Brown," he answered quickly as soon as the door shut behind him.

"Bobby, it's Rage. Get a SAT phone and call our SAT number."

Before Bobby had a chance to react, Rage disconnected knowing Bobby would take the hint that a cell phone conversation wasn't safe. Trembling, he leaned his uncooperative body back against the wall and tried to get his erratic heart beat under control. Something had happened. Esme – she was hurt, severely. Fucking tightness in his chest. He forcefully rubbed his sternum and struggled to inhale a full breathe. The SAT phone was at the hotel which meant first, he had to get back into the therapy room and then somehow excuse himself without alerting Rubén.

When Bobby stepped back into the room, Rubén was sitting in a similar position as he just had been seconds ago - body rigid, a hand rubbing his sternum and the color drained from his face. For a brief moment their warm brown eyes touched before Bobby turned to Dr. Garvey.

"Doc, I'm sorry; but there's an emer…"

That was all Bobby was able to get out before a tremendous roar erupted within the room. The next second found him smashed half way up the wall suspended by only Rubén's right hand which was squashing his windpipe. His eyes were coal black, full of fury, and the violence he emanated was more animalistic than human.

"YOU FUCKER. YOU DID THIS TO HER. WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. COULDN'T KEEP HER SAFE. IT'S YOUR FAULT. I'LL MAKE YOU PAY, FUCKER. WITH YOUR LIFE. YOU ASSHOLE."

Black dots started to swim in front of Bobby's vision as he saw the shocked faces of Rubén's parents in his peripheral view.

Mom, Pop, please meet Muerte, the other part of your son's identity, he thought as he fought his body's response to panic in face of the interrupted air supply.

Looking for Dr. Garvey, Bobby came up empty. Where was the good doc? He knew it was futile to claw at the hand bruising his throat or try to move the body pressing into him. Rubén may still be weak; but it'd take an eighteen-wheeler or Esme to stop Muerte's force, none of which were available at the moment. A single thought sucked the remaining fight out of him, perhaps Esme will never be around us again. Crushed both figuratively and literally, Bobby let himself go limp in Rubén's deathly alter ego's grip and welcomed the blackness closing in around him.

When he came around a few minutes later, some orderlies were lifting an unconscious Muerte onto a hospital bed and restraining his body with thick leather belts. Blinking to clear his mind, Bobby looked around the room. He was on the floor, a nurse was taking his vitals, Diego and Lucia were standing off to the side watching everything with pale faces and Dr. Garvey stood talking with the orderlies and a woman he knew as one of the resident medical doctors.

"I'm fine," Bobby croaked to the unknown nurse who was gently palpating his sore throat and slowly straightened up to a standing position. The earth was tilting a bit; but otherwise he felt okay. Sitting down in one of the chairs, he looked at Rubén's parents. They'd lost all color and silently stood there looking shell-shocked. "Mom, Pop," Bobby rasped.

Lucia and Diego both jumped at the sound of Bobby's weak voice. As though in a daze, they turned their heads and set their bewildered eyes on him.

"He's still your son," Bobby tried to placate them in a sympathetic voice. "What you witnessed is just another part of him."

"He attacked and nearly strangled you," Lucia choked out as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes.

"Yeah, he did; but only because he has these indescribable senses that alert him at the first hint of trouble. He perceived me as the source of distress."

"What are you talking about?" Diego asked.

Bobby took a shuddering breath exhaling slowly.

"The call," he looked at the disconcerted pair, "was from one of Esme's brothers. I don't know exactly what's going on; but something is majorly wrong. Esme is most probably severely injured or perhaps even dead. He didn't give me details, just ordered me to call him via SAT phone. That in itself is the clue for my assumptions. I came back into the room to excuse myself and hurry to the hotel where the phone is stashed."

"Rubén could not have known what was said during your conversation. He was here in the room with us," Diego said confused.

"As I said," Bobby answered defeated, "he and especially his alter ego, Muerte, have an extraordinary mind. He has unfathomable keen senses in general. He's often said it's as though he can feel the energy around him constantly shifting and broadcasting what's happening around him. Also, he has intuitions or rather presentiments, where he detects things that are simply inconceivable. It's like he's walking through life with one eye in the future. It's a scary gift at times."

"Bobby," Dr. Garvey addressed him. Bobby wasn't aware that the doctor had silently listened to the exchange with Rubén's parents. "Am I correct in assuming we just experienced Muerte, Rubén's other personality?"

"Yes," Bobby touched his throat and rubbed the tender flesh. By the time the bruise would become visible under his chocolate brown skin it would show a perfect huge hand shape. "Guess, he's back," he murmured dryly.

Dr. Garvey nodded without showing much emotion. "The question is how much he has separated himself from Rubén."

A couple hours later…

Lucia and Diego sat at their son's bedside while Bobby had planted his ass on the corner table with his feet propped up on one of the remaining chairs. His face was set in stone as he tried to work through the information Rage had given him earlier. He was wasting time here in Kentucky. Everything in him screamed to get his shit together and be on his way to Esme's side in Miami. He belonged with her. She was the one who needed his strength to heal. No way should he be in this room sharing precious oxygen with Mr. In-fucking-sanity. Bobby shook his head and scolded himself for his thoughts. Muerte was a part of Rubén and either he loved both or none of them at all. The more he thought about it, the more Bobby realized that Muerte and T weren't all that much different from each other. Sighing, he focused his eyes on the man laying before him in the bed. I can do this, he pep talked to himself just as Rubén opened unfocused, blurry eyes.

"Bobby?" Rubén's warm baritone voice greeted him as confused eyes focused on the restraints around his arms, torso and legs.

"Hey honey," Bobby jumped off the table and scooted around Rubén's mother to press a soft kiss on his man's brow.

"What happened?" Rubén's confusion grew as he looked into the wary faces of his parents.

"What's the last thing you can remember?" Bobby asked while pressing the button to call a nurse.

"We had our group session and were sitting together in the therapy room," Rubén scrunched his brow. "Then nothing. Tell me what happened," he ordered and started to pull at the restraints.

"You must calm down, honey," Bobby cautioned him.

"Why am I restrained?" Rubén grew more and more agitated. "Get me out of these."

His voice had a hitch raising an octave higher with each spoken word. The chains that attached the leather to the bed rattled. They were the fuel to the fire burning in Rubén. With a single swift movement, Bobby hopped onto the bed, straddled him and cradled his face in his hands. His strong arms pushing Rubén into the mattress.

"Calm down," Bobby's voice was louder than usual as he tried to get his lover's attention. The second Rubén's eyes focused, he continued, "That's right. Breath with me, Baby. In and out, together."

After a minute the remaining sedative in Rubén's body took over control and he calmed visibly.

"What did I do?" he lulled, straining to keep focus.

"You did nothing, hon; but Muerte made an appearance and was his usual self."

"Don't sugarcoat it. Did he attack anybody?"

"Yes," Bobby took Rubén's hand and rubbed soothing circles on its back. "Me; but I'm okay. Don't worry."

Immediately, a small tear started to slide down Rubén's cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," his voice cracked. "I'm so terribly sorry."

"Can you remember anything about the time Muerte was in control?" Dr. Garvey suddenly spoke up, making Bobby jump where he still straddled Rubén's groin. The doc was either real sneaky or Bobby was losing his awareness.

"No, I don't remember anything. One minute we're sitting in the therapy room talking and the next second I wake up here," Rubén's eyes clung to Bobby who now stood next to his head lovingly wiping away the tears that silently cascaded down Rubén's tortured face.

"Well, I'll remove the restrains for now; but we'll keep you sedated and under one on one supervision for the next few days at least. We can't risk Muerte popping up and becoming a danger for yourself or anybody around you," Dr. Garvey spoke authoritatively; but with compassion in his voice.

"Doc, what about Esme?" Bobby insistently asked the moment they were outside the room.

"You will leave under the pretense of conducting business for your company. We can't risk another outburst like that earlier without some intense preparations. I admit that was worse than what I had anticipated."

"NO! He'll never believe me," Bobby seethed between clenched teeth. He had never lied to Rubén or Esme and he wasn't about to start now.

"He will. He's too sedated to be sufficiently mistrusting. Bobby, I know this goes against your basic principles and you despise the idea of misleading Rubén," Dr. Garvey put a hand on Bobby's shoulder, "but for his sake this is the best way to handle the situation, at least for now. We will gradually expose Rubén to the truth; but your presence will only hinder the process. We all understand and support you leaving to see after your girlfriend. Heaven knows she needs you. So, you will go and leave the guilt at the door."

The second part was spoken as a military order; but Bobby needed to hear the firm directive coming from the compassionate doctor. Dr. Garvey knew Bobby must free himself of baggage before he set out to deal with what laid before him. Thankful for the doctor's assertiveness, Bobby nodded, took a deep breath and went back into Rubén's room to dish up some farfetched story about Tank needing him with so many men on the mission.

Fairfield Inn, Georgetown, Kentucky, 2000 hours

After following Dr. Garvey's advice and fabricating a story about being needed back at the Rangeman, Bobby returned to the hotel and fell into a deep sleep for the rest of the afternoon. Now he lay in the bed rubbing the sleep from his eyes and formulating a plan. Before setting out to pack, Bobby promptly left the room to scan the Panamera for bugs. He decided traveling by car eliminated the risk of being identified at the airport and subsequently followed to his destination. The drive was 16 hours; but being well rested meant he could drive through the night only having to stop for gas.

"How are you doing it, Bobby?" Rubén's mother questioned from where she sat on the bed watching him pack.

"Doing what, Mom?" He responded without looking up to check her face for any hint of what she could mean.

"Dealing with Muerte? Rubén? This personality splitting?"

"I play it by ear; take it day by day. Besides, I'm not really dealing well with it. Remember? I run away," he grimaced at the memory.

"Nonetheless, you are here," Lucia pointed out.

"Yeah, I am," he looked up and watched her, seeing the tiredness in the lines around her eyes. "I love him. Don't they say love can move mountains? I have to believe in him… in us… in our love… because Esme and I, we both want Rubén… all of Rubén… in our lives. To make that possible, we all have to learn to adjust to the situation and to each other."

Mrs. Rodríguez walked over to him and hugged him fiercely. "You are a wonderful, inspirational man, Bobby. I am proud and honored to call you my son. Thank you for loving Rubén and standing by his side through all the rough times you two have faced."

"You know," he whispered choking back tears while clinging to the only loving mother he's ever had, "Esme loves Muerte. She says there's a good guy with a fine sense of humor hidden beneath that ferocious surface. You, Pop and I, we'll just have to keep our minds open and give him a chance to show that side to us. We also have to remember that it isn't either Rubén or Muerte. They aren't two different personalities; but rather two parts of the same person. Loving one means loving them both and any other personality that might be hidden inside."

Ryder Trauma Center, Jackson Memorial Hospital, Miami, Florida

Bobby exited the cool, air-conditioned Panamera and stepped into Miami's humid thick morning air. The free-standing four story building before him housed one of the most renowned Level 1 trauma centers in the world. He had read a lot about it in medical reviews and learned journals. Everything was state-of-the-art. Surgical and medical teams from throughout the world came here to study advanced trauma care. He himself had wanted to apply for an internship here to hone his trauma skills; yet life had always seemed to throw him a curve ball.

Entering the building Bobby let the cool pristine interior sink in and found his way to the information desk.

"My name is Brown. I'm looking for Latifah Jones," he repeated the name Rage gave him.

Utmost security was crucial for Esme as well as the Rangemen who were being treated here. Every one of them was admitted under an alias in case NISE was monitoring trauma units along the US coast.

"Puppy?" Rage's deep voice vibrated over the floor. "Man, it's good to see you," he drew Bobby into a tight brotherly hug. Nodding to the nurse at the desk, he pulled Bobby with him and immediately started giving him the rundown. "I caught some rounds; but will be fine. Same goes for Knock. He took one to the shoulder and has already been released. He's over working at Rangeman here in town. Scar has severe muscle damage in one leg. He's still here and will need months of PT to get his leg bag in working order. Complete recovery is doubtful. Vince, Les and Esme are all still in the ICU. Vince will probably be downgraded today; but Les and Esme look bad," Rage's voice dropped and was laced with pain. "They both needed immediate field surgery. Les took one bullet to the leg and one to the abdomen. There was internal bleeding and intestinal damage. He's in a coma fighting a severe infection. They already removed part of his colon."

Neither man realized they'd stopped walking. Hearing about his best friend's injuries and knowing the potential for Lester's prognosis could worsen, Bobby looked around and sat down on a visitor chair nearby.

"What about Esme?" He whispered, not sure he would survive the answer.

"For starters, she took one to the arm and one to the chest; but it was stopped down by her vest and penetrated only slightly. Her left leg was shredded taking two slugs and a pile of shrapnel; but she was still moving. Then," Rage's voice faltered for a moment, "we were ambushed. Well actually, we attacked them before they could ambush us and everything looked fine. The enemy was down, mission accomplished. Then outta nowhere came the sound of an approaching chopper. For those few minutes, it was chaos, man. We scrambled to cover the bodies. Nobody except Esme noticed one of the piece of shit Guerillas was still alive. He fucking had Ram in his crosshairs. She took a flying leap the moment the shots rang out. She saved his life; but got hit in the abdomen and in the chest, piercing her lung. It looked bad, man. Froth was building at the thorax wound and her vitals deteriorated fast. Furor and V went in immediately; but she crashed the first time minutes after the shot."

Rage propped his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands, rubbing fiercely.

"Nobody could have known it was Tank in the damn chopper," he continued softly, lifting his head again. "Marvey warned him that Terrell knew and he packed the last remaining Rangemen and flew down to Colombia to rescue us. I can't remember how I or any of the other injured got into that chopper since it couldn't land anywhere. Anyway, Tank and the Rangemen divested it and the injured plus Furor and V were taken to San Cristóbal in Venezuela where the Rangeman Jet was awaiting us. Three hours later, we were in Miami…"

"What aren't you telling me, Rage?"

"Esme… she crashed two more times on the flight. She lost a lot of blood. Too much for any normal person to overcome; but she's hanging in there and her amazing metabolism is working overtime in her favor. So far, there is no sign of an infection and the doctors say that's the only reason why she's still alive. An infection would render them powerless to save her. They've put her into an artificial coma so her body can concentrate on healing. There are no visitors allowed to minimize the exposure to germs."

"Where are Agony and Rev?"

"Still in Colombia. Man, they are in no happy place at the moment; but they had to obey Furor's order. They are needed down there as middlemen for our contacts otherwise there's no way for them to come home."

Bobby nodded. His body felt like a vessel with nothing but water sloshing around in it.

Crashed two more times… lost a lot of blood… no visitors allowed… The thoughts were racing through his mind, picking up speed, making him dizzy. No visitors allowed…

"Bobby, man, you need to keep it together," Rage knelt in front of him and shook his neck.

"I need to see her," Bobby rose like a robot and started to continue down the hall without knowing where he was going.

"Man, you can't. They won't allow any visitors. Not even Furor or V who operated on her," Rage caught up to him with a few long strides.

"Wrong!" Bobby wheeled towards him and jabbed his index finger into Rage's broad chest. "I will sit with her day and night until she is better and nobody can stop me. I will strip naked if they want so they can disinfect my whole body before putting on scrubs and gloves and a surgical mask; but I will sit with her."

Seven days later…

Bobby sat at Esme's bedside, rubbing the beard that had grown over the past week, and pondered where they should all live once this nightmare was over. Rubén surely could do with some family time so that would mean Montana. Esme had her home with all her brothers at Great Falls in Virginia. He personally would love to live at the sea, somewhere where he could study and enjoy life at the same time. He smiled thinking how they'd discuss the matter and how Rubén and Esme would both get more and more agitated until they were all flailing arms and eyes on fire. Yeah, that would be fun. A little movement in the corner of his eye made him smile and turn toward his love.

"Hey Baby," he spoke slowly to give her eyes the chance to catch the movement of his lips. "You gonna stay with me now or would you prefer another nap?"

For the last two days the doctors had weaned out the sedatives and Esme had more and more often come around; but always fell back into unconsciousness. Bobby couldn't care less. He was as happy as never before in his life. His Baby had made it, against all odds. She was the epitome of a brave and fierce tigress. The respiration machine was still doing the breathing for her; but the volume had been more and more reduced. Soon she would get rid of the mask and the tube stuck in her mouth.

"Hey," he sat on the edge of Esme's bed and tenderly caressed her brow and cheeks, brushing her wild curls out of her face. "I've so missed seeing your peridot greens with their red hot flames," he smiled brightly, leaned forward and kissed each cheek, her brow and lastly the tip of her nose.