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.

AN: From now on there'll be a lot of references to DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder). I read several specialized books and researched symptoms and daily life problems as much as I could. Nonetheless I'm far away from really knowledgeable; but the more I learn about this disorder, the more it fascinates me.

Chapter 56 – Survivors & New Faces

Ryder Trauma Center, Jackson Memorial Hospital, Miami, Florida

"You sure you can manage it? Perhaps waiting a few more days would be better," Bobby's concern filled eyes watched Esme closely as she grimaced while straightening the pillow behind her back. Her reaction to the pain did nothing to elevate his worry.

ARGH Bobby, I can and will deal, she growled, the red flecks in her irises blazing. We can stop somewhere overnight, OK, Geesh. Once we're there you can take care of me. Should you not want to then I am sure Furor or V will pick up your slack. I just want to hit the road.

"Ouch. That's not fair, sweetie."

Three weeks had passed since Esme completely regained consciousness and each day it grew increasingly more difficult to keep her from freaking out. Bobby knew her anxiety level was rising due to her hospital stay; but the lashing out at him was wearing on his nerves. He would be glad when they could finally leave the hospital. He just worried whether or not it was too soon for her to be discharged.

"Let's wait and hear what the doctors have to say," he cautioned her.

"You know the doctors will want me to stay. I'm their cash cow," Esme signed moodily. "Nothing but goddamn vultures who see me as easy money from the insurance company."

"Now, now, don't forget they saved your life. Thanks to them we can plan for a future," Bobby tried to pacify her; but nothing worked. Esme just rolled her eyes and with a grimace turned her back to him.

Around four P.M. Bobby came into the room with the extensive discharge papers in his hands. He breathed a sigh of relief as he watched Esme's sour puss immediately break into a face splitting smile. He loved her with everything he had in him; but a grouchy Esme knew how and where to hit to make it hurt.

"Slow down, Tiger," he laughed as a pillow landed flat at his chest. "You'll survive a few more minutes. At least give me time to pack your stuff."

Woe betide you, should you dawdle, she grinned all happy. Finally, she'd be leaving this freaking hospital.

Twenty minutes later they were ready to bust shop and Bobby wheeled Esme along the hall to Lester's room.

"Hey beautiful," came his tired voice as soon as she rolled through his door. "Just the face I need to make my day better."

Tank had a reading device with him when they came down to Colombia and found the GPS transmitter implanted in Lester's upper arm. Furor removed it and left it right there in the valley's dirt. A minor surgery without any risk or so they thought. Unbeknownst to them, a sepsis had already set in because of the intestinal damage and the less than sanitary conditions during that surgery. Lester's condition quickly deteriorated during the flight. His fever rose to over 104°F and he slipped into a coma it took him three weeks to wake up from.

"Hey Les," Esme parked close to his bed, hopped over and cautiously lay next to him on the small mattress. Snuggling into his good side, they stayed silent while Bobby took a seat in one of the visitor chairs.

"Looks like you and your ol' man are ready to leave," Les finally smiled into the silence of the room.

Esme cautiously squeezed him where her arm was lying over his chest.

Just as long as you are really, really okay with it. We can stay here in Miami at Rangeman or at a hotel. I just need to get out of this damn hospital.

That made Les laugh before scowling in pain from the miserably healing abdominal wound.

"No Beautiful. It's fine, really. You need to see your other man before Muerte goes all Hulk and escapes from Cedar Creek leaving it in ruins before setting out in search of you," Les smiled while tracing her arm with his fingertips.

I'm sorry, Esme sighed as she propped her weight on one arm and looked deep into Lester's eyes.

Nothing to be sorry about, Angel. He pressed a quick kiss on her nose. You held your promise and brought everybody back alive. I'll just stay here a few weeks longer until this infection is stemmed and the wound is healing.

You come as soon as you can? I need you close.

I promise, Beautiful. As soon as I'm not leaking anymore, I'll be all yours, Les smiled, squeezed her and pressed a last kiss onto her cheek.

"Get better soon, man," Bobby came over, grabbed some of Les' outgrown hair and shook it gently. "Otherwise, she'll be a pain in the ass."

"Will do," they bumped fists. "Take good care of my Beautiful or I'll take over once I'm back."

That brought out a full belly laugh from Bobby as he pushed Esme out of the door and toward the long-awaited ride back to Kentucky.

Cedar Creek Behavioral Health Center, Stamping Ground, Kentucky

Rubén sat in Dr. Garvey's office and intensely stared at the blank page in front of him. The notebook was already half filled with notes and messages to his other identities. Yes, other, as in three other.

The last four weeks had been confusing and liberating to equal amounts. Muerte was no longer constantly in his head, nagging, teasing, insulting, and threatening him. He now had his very own identity – detached from Rubén. During one of their group sessions, Rubén's mother suggested Muerte be renamed Ángel, Rubén's second forename. She felt that no part of her son should carry the moniker – 'death'. Everyone agreed Ángel was the perfect choice for the second strongest identity in him. Sometimes though, Muerte couldn't be more amused about death being called angel, what a pun!

Rubén, the Hot Rod, fun-loving, playful, and full of zest persona, acted as a host for them. Ángel was the fierce protector. His emergence was triggered by any kind of threat, real or imagined. While he no longer appeared downright belligerent, Ángel never backed off his aggressive stand and didn't give a shit about anybody liking him.

Marco and Che were the new 'alters' that separated within Rubén. Marco slid into the role of the always considerate caretaker. He acknowledged everybody's needs, put himself into the background for the sake of harmony over everything and would don an apron going all Martha Stewart on their asses. Che on the other hand proved to be the cool and detached negotiator, a true Sigmund Freud at heart. When a problem arose, he'd listen to all sides and come up with a deliberate solution.

Now with Esme expected back, Rubén sat glaring at the blank page in their notebook considering how he felt about her return and what he expected to happen.

"Rubén?" Dr. Garvey spoke up. "You seem to be struggling. Want to discuss what's troubling you?"

Rubén jumped and a quick look at his watch told him that ten minutes had passed without him realizing. These dissociations sucked. One moment he was aware of his surroundings, the next he'd realize time had passed and he didn't know where or with whom he'd been. All he could do was check his notebook to see whether or not one of the others had taken over and left him a message. It was confusing, tiring and sometimes frightening; but Dr. Garvey was very positive that it would soon get better. After four weeks Rubén was already able to deliberately switch between identities. An accomplishment other patients with DID didn't achieve for years, sometimes never. The past few days had been spent working on 'internal communication' so switching between identities and keeping notes wouldn't be necessary. It was mind boggling as shit to keep track of four voices in one mind; but it had worked a few times. Concentrating on Dr. Garvey in front of him, Rubén tried to collect his thoughts.

"I don't know. My brain feels as though it's swimming in my head and I'm twitchy. I think everyone of us is twitchy."

"Take your spiky ball in your hands and let's split the jumble of thoughts into easy digestible packages."

Two hours later two pages were jotted with thoughts, fears and expectations. Four different styles of handwriting, four different minds, four different identities. Rubén wanted his time with Esme and Bobby to be fun and full of action. They'd spend as much time together as possible, even staying overnight at Bobby's hotel – said with a cocked head and an eyebrow waggle. Ángel was aggressive, possessive and had no intention of sharing Esme with anyone. He wanted her all to himself without Bobby or any of the others interfering. Marco looked forward to pampering her; but was worried because she didn't know him or wouldn't like him and the situation would be awkward. Then there was Che. He was his calm and detached self and 'was looking forward to meeting her; but not having any expectations at all'. Nothing seemed to touch him.

As he left Dr. Garvey's office Rubén looked like he could fall asleep at a moment's notice. Slowly, he trudged back to his new on-site accommodations, a beautiful studio apartment with a view over the grounds and cedar lined creek. Nodding to the guard outside his door, he shuffled in and fell straight onto the twin bed, asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Tomorrow morning he had to be back at Dr. Garvey's and they'd discuss the situation and how every one of them could get their own 'Esme time' without alienating the others.

Wallace Ranch, Lockport, Kentucky

Thirty miles north-west, in the undulating hills around Lockport, a weathered old-fashioned Ranch house nestled up against the surrounding trees. The house was cozy and spoke of all the generations who found shelter under its roof. Woody's maternal grandparents had been the last of their line to call the ranch home. They passed away the year before and Woody, as their heir, was glad to give the otherwise unused property a new purpose. The drive from Lockport to the house took just under twenty minutes. The only access to the plot was a private mile long semi-hidden road ending in front of the ranch.

Standing on the porch, Ram looked over the clearing at the surrounding forest and inhaled a deep breath. It smelled of summer, earth, foliage and trees. The beautiful, secluded place had no connection to Rangeman or the IAs. Without a doubt, they now held the top position on the NISE shit list; but it was improbable someone could tie the Wallace's in Kentucky to Woodrow Davenport born and raised in Texas. NISE would never guess to search for them here and under no circumstances could they be found before collecting all the evidence necessary to bring the fuckers down.

The lengths to which the IAs went to keep them safe were impressive. Once stateside, Agony and Rev checked in with Bobby at Ryder's and Furor organized a Pave Hawk ride back to Great Falls. They landed right in the backyard and within minutes picked up the tech equipment they'd need plus the countless boxes of evidence that were stashed away in the mansion's strong room. On their way to the Wallace Ranch, Furor transferred hundred grand from an untraceable Cayman account to an alias bank account which had been set up years ago. Then a visit to a car dealership outside of Lockport to buy four inexpensive, very used looking Pick-ups in order to blend in with the locals. They also agreed only two men at the time should be out and about so as to not draw attention to them. Since there weren't many bedrooms, they worked in shifts and shared beds. It was intense; but they were focused on the job and didn't care about accommodations.

Tomorrow or the day after T would be back. The thought of her made Ram's right hand rub over his heart. She had saved his life and nearly lost hers in the process. That was one of the reasons he, Cal and Woody were here with the IAs. They would give their lives for T. Helping her and her brothers bring NISE down was the least they could do to repay her for what she'd done for them. It was a question of honor.

"Hey man," Cal stepped out of the house and handed him a big mug with steaming coffee. "Furor just talked to Bobby. They are on their way up here. ETA tomorrow evening. T insists on stopping at Cedar Creek first."

Ram chuckled. "Only she would jump right into some bullets, die and be revived three times, fight for a week to stay alive, suffer three more weeks through a hospital stay only then to jump right into the next pond of trouble by visiting her 4-headed friend and all this before even considering getting some rest."

"She's one in a million, that's for sure," Cal summed up as they stood side by side on the porch, enjoying the afternoon sun on their faces. "Come on, Woody's waiting for us," he finally clapped Ram on his back. "Let's start our shift of investigation. T will be taken aback by what we found so far."

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