The great thing about the internet is anyone can get just about anything they need with a few keystrokes or the click of a mouse. When I went to Ella about the need to purchase furniture in a speedy fashion, she directed me to a couple of online sites.

It turned out that I spent less than an hour on Wayfair's website looking for a bedroom set with fast shipping. I found one I liked, then called the company to see if I could pay to have it overnighted to Rangeman.

When all was said and done, not only had I purchased a complete queen-sized bedroom set, but also an additional sitting chair and small side table. Then I went back and added the bedroom decor, including lamps, bedding, and pillows. All with expedited shipping.

With Ram, Cal, and Hal's help, we moved my desk and filing cabinet out of the second bedroom and placed them in the dining area that I didn't use. I knew there was a good reason, besides my own laziness, as to why I hadn't purchased a dining room table. I just didn't know what it was until now.

Once all the furniture was either ordered or moved, I kept my word to Bobby and called Doctor Cochran's office. As it turned out, he'd just had a cancellation and he wanted me to come in right away.

I really didn't want to, but I promised Bobby I'd go. So, I made the almost half-hour drive to Doctor Cochran's office in Princeton. I wasn't particularly looking forward to this visit. Mostly because I knew I was going to get lectured over not seeking treatment for my nightmares before now. Well, that, and how lazy I'd become in following through with my coping methods. Before I knew it, I was seated in the chair in front of Doctor Cochran's desk, and I took a moment to study the room I hadn't visited in nearly four years.

Absolutely nothing had changed. It was the same furniture, same wall of books, same fake Ficus tree in the corner. It's possible the fish in the aquarium on the opposite wall weren't the same. Other than that, even the position of the furniture hadn't changed.

"So," Doctor Cochran began, "Bobby tells me that you're having nightmares again."

"I am," I replied then cocked my head to the side. "When exactly did you talk to Bobby about me?"

"Earlier this morning, when he called to get an update about your friend Casey," he replied. I frowned at his statement. Apparently, my best friend didn't trust me to follow through even though I promised him I would.

"Now don't make that face, Lester," he said. "Bobby was just concerned about you."

"He basically told me that if I didn't call you, he was gonna pull my weapon and put me on restricted work," I countered.

"He would have been right to do it, too," he replied. "Sleep deprivation can have a myriad of detrimental effects on the body. Both physical and emotional."

"Such as?"

"Well, physically, it can cause balance issues and high blood pressure. It will increase your risk of developing diabetes and gaining weight. It can also lower your sex drive."

Well damn. Was that part of why I'd lost interest in dating the last few months? I'd simply chalked it up to my concern over Casey.

"Those are just a few of the conditions," he continued. "Mentally and emotionally, it can cause short temper, lack of concentration, memory issues, anxiety, depression and in some cases suicidal thoughts. Ultimately, it can lead to a shortened lifespan."

Well, I certainly didn't like the sound of that. I hadn't experienced any memory issues or suicidal thoughts. Though I had to admit, the last few months my anxiety was off the charts and my concentration had been for shit.

He shifted in his chair so that he rested his elbows on his desk as he looked at me. "With your history of PTSD, Bobby is right to be concerned. Those nightmares, combined with lack of sleep could alter your judgment and eventually lead to a bad decision that could harm you or someone else."

The last thing I wanted was something happening to Bobby, Ram, or any of the guys because I wasn't in top form. It was hard to admit I had an issue. Still, I couldn't ignore that with the business we're in, a single bad decision could mean death. So, I had no choice but to swallow my pride. "What do I do?"

"We're going to start with what triggered these nightmares and then we'll work on how to hopefully resolve them. When was the first time you began experiencing the nightmares again?"

"I guess it was about this time last year. Maybe a little closer to Thanksgiving. We were doing a distraction job and I got shot protecting Stephanie."

He nodded. "That would be enough to trigger them. Have you been having these nightmares and sleep interruptions this entire time?"

"No," I replied. "They got better as I healed and only ended up lasting a couple of months. Actually, I was doing okay until just a few of months ago."

"And what do you think happened to trigger the nightmares again?"

"I guess it was when I realized that Casey had left the rehab facility and I lost contact with her."

"Is it safe to say you were worried about her?"

"Well, yeah." I nodded. "She'd been through so much and from her letters, I knew there was a chance her family might turn her away. If they did, she'd end up alone. I tried looking for her, but she was like a ghost. She just disappeared."

"And you feared for her safety."

"Of course, I did."

"So, do you think it's safe to say, now that you've found her, maybe the nightmares will go away?"

I considered his question for a moment before I leaned back in my chair. "Maybe," I finally replied as I thought back to my nightmare the night before last. "The day I pulled her from the bridge, I had a bad one that night. Which is what prompted Bobby to push me to call you."

"Even though it ended well, that situation was traumatic for both of you. So, it doesn't surprise me that your PTSD resurfaced." He shifted, then stood and walked to his window to look out. "I want to try some Imagery Rehearsal Therapy with you."

My brow knit. "What is Imagery Rehearsal Therapy?"

"It's a treatment often used with PTSD patients who experience nightmares. It's pretty simple. For the nightmares that you remember, I want you to change the ending to something good and happy. You're then going to rehearse that new ending in your mind, repeating it over and over until the old ending fades. This will help to retrain your mind to look for the happy ending and reduce the chances of repeating the nightmare."

That seemed almost too simple to actually work. Especially with my history. "Doc, I've seen a lot of bad shit in my life. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to find the happy ending you're talking about."

Doctor Cochran frowned. "Just try it, Lester. If I'm right, once you have Casey safely secured at Rangeman and working to get better, your nightmares will begin to fade on their own anyway. Until then, let's try this technique." He shifted to look at me. "Are you still keeping up on your other stress reduction therapies?"

Immediately, I averted my gaze as guilt flooded through me. When we first left the military, my nightmares were so much worse. Back then he'd put in place a series of stress reduction techniques. They'd worked amazingly well, considering how corny I thought they were at the time.

Over the years, I'd abandoned most of the therapies, choosing to fall into bed exhausted instead of doing the Progressive Muscle Relaxation and daily journaling. My distraction activities slowly shifted from reading and watching movies to time spent on the heavy bag in the gym. The big problem was, time on the bag still allowed my mind to obsess. "I still do the deep breathing exercises and I still talk with the core team when something is on my mind," I finally offered.

His sigh of disapproval was unmistakable. "Lester-"

I held up a hand, stopping him. "I know."

"If you know, then why did you stop?" he asked. "We put those strategies in place for a reason. You said before that they were working for you. Was that a lie?"

I shook my head. "No. They were working."

"Then why did you stop?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess when I started feeling better and Rangeman got busier, I let those things go by the wayside."

Doctor Cochran walked over and sat on the edge of his desk. "We've talked about this. You have to accept that because of what you've been through and what you choose to do for a living, you're never going to be completely better." He air-quoted the word better. "Using these strategies and techniques will help to keep your mind healthy."

"I know," I replied. "I guess it's easy to think that when things are going well and I'm feeling better that I don't need all this therapy stuff."

"This therapy stuff," he repeated. "Is allowing for things to continue to go well and for you to feel better." He took a deep breath and held it. "Okay," he finally said. "So, I went to St. Francis yesterday and assessed Casey. I obviously can't go into any details right now. However, I do agree that the best place for her after she's released tomorrow is Rangeman. For the foreseeable future, I will be I'll be coming there once a week to work with her. I want to meet you also. Obviously at a different time."

Excited to hear she was being released tomorrow, I nodded. "That sounds like a plan."

"In the meantime, I want you do try the Imagery Rehearsal Therapy and return to the other strategies we've previously enacted."

"What about putting me on restricted duty?" Bobby has the authority to do it on his own, but having Doctor Cochran's backing will only strengthen his position.

"I'll talk to Bobby, but right now I'm not inclined to pull your weapon. We'll re-evaluate that decision on a week-by-week basis. So, long as you're making progress, I think we can avoid it altogether."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "Thank you, Doctor Cochran. I promise I'll do my part."

Strangely enough, I felt better as I drove back to Rangeman and arrived just before the furniture delivery.

Thankfully, some of the guys were available to help lug everything up to my apartment. Still more of the guys helped with unboxing and assembling the pieces.

It didn't take long for the guys to turn it into a party, complete with pizza and beer. We quickly learned that poor Hal wasn't very mechanically inclined, even if he was willing to help. After the third time of trying to assemble the wrong pieces, Ram grew frustrated and took away his screwdriver.

Once the furniture was constructed, I handed over the decorating to Kristina and Ella. With less than twenty-four hours until her release, Casey now had her very own bedroom, including a closet with some clothes.

After everyone departed, I stood in the doorway to take in the sight. To say it felt weird, seeing the room as an actual bedroom and not my office, was an understatement. A hint of worry crossed my mind. Would Casey like the room? Would she feel comfortable here? How would I handle sharing my living space with someone else?

When I insisted she stay with me, it hadn't occurred to me that I'd be giving up my privacy. Damn! I wouldn't be able to walk around my apartment naked anymore.

Since Casey has her own bedroom, I'll at least be able to continue sleeping naked. I suppose if I really needed privacy, I'd be able to retreat to my bedroom.

While I did have concerns over how this was going to play out, I couldn't help but also be a little excited about it too. I'm sure just knowing she'd finally be safe and cared for would outweigh my unease with all the sudden changes. This was going to be good for both of us.