By the time Tank and Bobby appeared, I'd completed eight miles on the treadmill and had moved to work on the heavy bag. The weight of my best friend's stare bore through me while I kept my focus on the big red bag. "What time did you start," he finally asked.

"Around four," I replied, never taking my attention off the bag. "Couldn't sleep." Unfortunately, I know that answer isn't going to come close to being good enough for him. He knows me better than anyone, including my cousin. If I'm not sleeping, he'll know it's because I'm having nightmares again.

"How long?" he asked without qualifying further. He doesn't have to. I know what he's asking.

"Off and on for a while now." I replied as I finally pulled to a stop to look at him. There was worry in his gaze as he watched me. Most people wouldn't see the concern behind his blank stare. I'm not most people.

"How long is awhile?" he pushed.

I sighed as I rubbed the back of my hand across my forehead in an attempt to wipe away the sweat. He's not going to like my answer. He's going to like it even less that I didn't come to him about it. "They started again after I got shot during the Dario Giovanni distraction."

His eyes widened at my admission. "That's almost a year ago."

Trying to play down the significance of my words, I shrugged. "They got better as I healed, then started kicking up again a couple of months ago." Right about the time I learned that Casey had left the rehab facility and stopped writing to me.

"A couple of months ago," Bobby repeated. "And you didn't think to say anything before now?" The rise in pitch in his voice told me he was getting pissed.

"They weren't anything new or even that bad," I replied, hoping to curb the fit I knew was coming. It's not just his need to protect and nurture that's showing through his emotions. He's my best friend and I've hurt him by not coming to him for help. "Most of the time I was able to go back to sleep without any issue. This morning's just happened to be particularly bad."

"Want to talk about it?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not really, but I would appreciate it if you'd call the hospital and check on Casey for me."

"Based on that statement, I'm guessing the nightmare was about her."

I began untaping my hands. "Ram and I were chasing a skip and ended up finding a floater in the Delaware." Damn, I guess maybe I did want to talk about it after all.

"And the floater was Casey?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. Almost immediately, the nausea returned, and I fought to steady my still raw nerves.

"Hell." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Okay, I'll call and check on her, but I think maybe it's time we revisit the medication conversation."

"Why?" I asked as I paused to look at him. "You already know I'm allergic to the only one which won't get my weapon pulled, at least temporarily," I replied. "It's not like I have a whole lot of options."

"Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing for you to be on restricted duty for a bit."

I'd just shifted my attention back to my hands when his statement had my head rocketing up a second time to meet his stare. Shock ricocheted through my system. "You pulling my weapon?"

"No," he said on a sigh. "I'm just saying that you've been under a lot of stress lately. You're already not sleeping very well. Now there's all this business with Casey. Maybe some time offline would do you good."

A new rush of panic coursed through me. "You're not pulling my weapon," I repeated, this time more as a challenge and not a question. Even if I did go offline for a bit, pulling my weapon would only add to my anxiety.

"Okay." He held up his hands in surrender. "Relax. I won't make that recommendation." He pointed a finger at me. "On one condition. You have to promise to call Doctor Cochran's office and make an appointment."

"Bob, I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he argued. "If you were fine, you wouldn't be having nightmares. You also wouldn't be coming down here at four in the morning trying to work off your stress. I don't want you to become a danger to yourself or to Ram. So, you have two choices. Either I put you on meds and temporarily pull your weapon or you see the company psychiatrist. Which is it going to be?"

Neither of those choices were appealing. I let out a frustrated growl. I know talking to Rangeman's therapist will help. It has before when my PTSD kicked up and the nightmares plagued me. I just hate feeling weak.

I know Ranger does too and he's the first one to push therapy. If he's willing to go and face his demons, then I guess I am too. Plus, I really don't want to end up on restricted duty. Being part of the core team already meant being strapped with more paperwork and office time than the men who worked for us. If Bobby pulled my weapon, I'd end up behind the desk full time. Worse, I'd probably be tasked with covering endless monitor shifts and running searches for Rodriguez. Being trapped in this building full time would have me climbing the walls. "Fine," I finally said. "I'll call Doctor Cochran."

"Good," he replied. "Now, I'll go call the hospital while you head back upstairs and shower."

Feeling more than a little frustrated at the turn of events, I returned to Six. I showered, dressed then grabbed some breakfast before heading down to Five. I needed to finalize the last bit of information on a couple of upcoming installations. This afternoon I was heading out with the team to help with the layouts for two new installs.

I'd just stepped onto Five when Tank motioned me into his office. Bobby was already there, and my nerves kicked up a bit when Tank gestured for me to close the door. Did Bob change his mind about pulling my weapon, or did something happen with Casey overnight?

"Sit," Tank said, nodding to the only other empty guest chair in front of his desk. I eased into the seat with reservation.

"What's going on?" I glanced between them. "Did something happen with Casey?"

"Casey is fine," Bobby said. "Doctor Rosner said she's been the model patient. She's eating, sleeping well, and cooperating with the nurses. She also said that Doctor Cochran will be there later today to evaluate Casey. So, we should know before the end of the day just how long they plan to keep her."

At his news, my stress level dropped just a little. "Okay, so why do I feel like there's something else? Something bad?"

"Not necessarily bad," Tank said. "Just slightly problematic."

"Which would be?" I asked.

He started typing on his keyboard, then clicked his mouse a couple of times before turning his monitor toward me. "Yesterday's rescue was caught on camera," he said.

The grainy video feed from the security cameras located on the bridge caught the scene as it played out in real life. It began moments before Bobby and I arrived, and ended with me standing at the back of the ambulance holding Casey in my arms.

"Local news stations requested the video feed. Casey's face will be blurred to protect her identity. However, Rangeman and more specifically you, will be mentioned in the story that will run today. I've already been told by the city's PR rep to expect phone calls from news agencies wanting a statement."

I sank back in the chair and raked my hands through my hair. "Shit."

"Yeah, it's probably going to suck for a few days, but your act of heroism has put Rangeman squarely in the spotlight. I know your reasons for doing what you did had nothing to do with receiving accolades or praise. Since you have it anyway, Rangeman's PR team said we need to capitalize on this positive publicity."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Actually…Nothing," Tank replied. "I'm working with the PR team to handle the news outlets. You just worry about figuring out the details for when Casey is released."

"Details?" I frowned. She was coming back here to stay with me, and Ella had already taken on the task of buying her new clothes. What more details were there?

"Yes, details," Tank repeated. "Like starting with where she's going to stay." He moved the monitor back into position for him to work. "All the apartments are currently full. So, short of letting her sleep in the infirmary, you need to come up with a plan."

What in the hell did he mean where she was going to stay? "She's going to stay with me," I replied in a tone that made it clear he should have already known that fact.

Last year, the decision was made to demolish the unused offices and storage space on Six, and create four two-bedroom apartment units. One for each of the core team members, less Ranger, and one for Ella and Louis.

The apartments were finished last month, and we moved from our units on Four to our new ones on Six. Then the men who had been on a waiting list for an apartment moved into our old units. If Rangeman continued to expand like it was, we would seriously need to consider the purchase of a second building.

"I'll move my desk out of the spare bedroom and set up a bed for her."

"She may not be comfortable with that option," Tank said.

"Then maybe I can get one of the guys to temporarily move in with me and give her an empty apartment." Though I wasn't at all keen on the idea of her staying by herself.

Bobby shook his head. "I'm sure one of her conditions of release will be that she is not left alone for long periods of time. Though, I'm sure she's going to want some privacy. So, she's still going to need her own bedroom. Which means, she'll need to stay with one of us in the new core team apartments on Six."

"We could ask Ella and Louis if she could stay with them," Tank said.

My fingers curled over the edge of the chair as I battled to keep my temper in check. I knew he meant well with his statement, but no fucking way was Casey staying with anyone but me. "Like. I. Originally. Said." I drew out the words, making each one its own sentence. "She'll stay with me."

"Fine," Tank said. "But you're going to need to do better for her than just an air mattress."

His flippant comment caused me to scowl. He was acting as if I didn't have a single brain cell. "I'm not an idiot, Pierre." Using his real name was dangerous and could land me on the mats with him, but he was pissing me off. Honestly, a little mat time probably wouldn't be a bad thing, right now. "I'll buy her a real bed."

He narrowed his gaze on me. "She's going to need more furniture than just a bed."

Like I didn't know that already? I'd buy her the fucking moon if I knew she needed it. "So?" I shrugged. "I'll go buy her an entire bedroom set. People buy furniture every day. It can't be that hard."

"Famous last words," Bobby muttered.

For the first time since finding Casey, I grinned and barely refrained from rolling my eyes. Instead, I turned my attention back to Tank. "Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing," Tank said as he paused to look at me. His expression was a combination of curiosity and concern. "Would you have really gone into the water after her?"

I met his stare as I thought back to those harrowing minutes on the bridge. At that moment, I knew without a doubt I would have done anything to save her. That included jumping into the shitty water. "In a heartbeat."