Author Note: Italics indicate a scene lifted nearly verbatim from canon (Dirty Thirty). They were lightly edited for clarity and to better flow in the story but it is Janet's work.

Trenton

Cal

For the fourth time in as many hours, Cal told his story, this time to a team from Homeland. In the name of National Security, RangeMan provided a mob don with top notch security. And the man got killed anyway. Because he opted to save his niece and sacrifice himself. And now all the DC alphabet suits are spinning wheels on what comes next. But that was not Cal's problem. "I cannot be the only one who doubts that Terry Gilman is the lynchpin in this multinational conspiracy- I just don't see it. And I should be taking care of things at RangeMan, not repeating the same information over and over. So, are we finished here?"

Nope, no escape. The story needed to be reviewed with the NSA agents, who joined the suits in the room. Again. Cal rolled his neck and started from the beginning.

Carl Castanza

As he typed in silence, Carl had a monologue going in his head, "I can't believe I have to redo all of last night's reports and omit the fact that Joe Morelli was the first cop on the scene. Instead of his name I have to put "First officer on the scene". But the Chief is adamant. Nobody could know Joe was briefly back in Trenton. It was just lucky none of the other cops working the scene spoke to Joe. They interviewed the other witnesses. I don't see how this all stands up in court if we alter the records and omit his name, but the Chief said it was in the interests of National Security. Above my pay grade at any rate. And what the fuck are we supposed to do about Nutsy, Snacker and Simon Diggory? The were all there and all of them know Joe. This was gonna be a shit show."

After making yet another typo, he cursed his high school guidance counselor, who had discouraged him from taking a typing class in his senior year. She told him as a cop, he'd never need to type. Clearly, she was an idiot. As so was he, for ever listening to the nitwit.

Fucking Feds!

Connie Rosolli

It was still dark outside as Connie moved within the Bonds Office. It was funny, she thought, how life could just change on a dime. Her life had been changed forever last night. A knot formed in her throat as she swallowed a sob. She couldn't think about that now. She had work to do.

She forwarded the calls to Les Sebring's office and put the sign in the window that read "Closed for Vacation" and directing people to contact Sebring for assistance. Then she worked on the filing and secured all the property in the property room. By the time the sun had risen, the work was done.

Connie looked around and felt ridiculous at the emotion that filled her. She would miss her life here. She would miss her friends. It was unknown how long the upcoming chaos would last, and she needed to play least in sight for the foreseeable future. She locked the door and instead of driving home, she drove out of town to her uncle's compound. She was parking within the compound walls when her phone pinged.

Glancing at the text message from Stephanie, she was relieved to see Stephanie would be out of town. One less person to lie to… God, this whole mess was a nightmare. And Vito… Oh, God, Vito. Vito was dead.

Her uncle, along with Harry Hammerstein, had come to give her the news last night as soon as he got word. The ache in her heart caused her breath to catch again as she remembered her uncle holding her tight as she cried. When she finally calmed, he two men told her she would need to disappear till everything blew over. And she didn't mistake the iron in her uncle's voice. He knew she was meant to be with Vito last night, but her mother had been ill and needed to be seen in the Emergency room. Her mother admitted, Connie had just gotten home when the men arrived.

She never should have gotten involved with Vito. Her mother had warned her. And annoyingly, her mother was right…again. She walked to the house and rang the bell.

Ramon

When asked why Vito saved his niece and not himself, Ramon told the suit interviewing him that clearly, he didn't understand family. "Vito would have given up all the information he knew if they were hurting Terry to get him to talk." And it was the act of a moment, he thought to himself not for the first time. AN impulse who couldn't undo. Ramon explained, "Once the Panic room was locked, it could not be unlocked from the outside. Only the RangeMan control room could open the door. And as a soundproof room, Terry could not make herself heard. The room did what it was supposed to. Vito was the wildcard. He was supposed to lock himself in and opted not to."

This had been ongoing for hours and he needed to report all the night's events to Ranger. This was going to screw up the plan. Not to mention he was dead on his feet. At least he wasn't in a 'Stan with only a bottle of water… which was only a slight comfort.

Lula

Lula was resting in Julio's arms, dozing, when her phone pinged. She liked his bed. She liked his bedroom. He liked his house. Lula liked Julio. And Julio liked Lula. And he liked to show her how much.

"I could get used to this," Lula thought to herself. Julio was in his late 50s, with weathered skin and strong rough hands. She slipped back to sleep without checking her phone. Nothing could be more important than this man.

At the Virginia hospital

Stephanie

Walking into the ICU with Bobby, I knew immediately where Ranger was, as there were two large men, certainly former college football player from the look of them. Dressed head to toe in RangeMan black they too had fully loaded utility belts and flack vests, they guarding their boss. I didn't recognize them. But I only knew two of the staff at the Virginia site, Melvin and Charlotte Schwartz. Since hiding at RangeMan during the hunt for Oswald Wednesday, Ranger had kept the pair on as contract tech support. Last year, when RangeMan decided to open the Cyber division and base it in Virginia, Melvin and Charlotte leapt at the chance to take lead roles. Tank was headed to meet with them and discuss the attempt on Ranger and the breach that brought him here. Lester went with him. Bobby was speaking with the medical team. But I needed to see Ranger almost more than I needed to breath.

I thanked both men outside the room assigned to Mark Pardo's room. The team were keeping Ranger's admission hidden from his enemies- another layer of protection while he was

incapacitated. I felt a shudder race through me as I entered and stood at the end of Ranger's bed, trying to take in the scene. He was pale. Bruised. Still. Moisture pooled in my eyes. This strong brave man who loved me looked so fragile now.

There were two complex IV set-ups on either side of the bed, a ventilator, and another machine with tubing and suction that seemed to lead to his abdomen. He had abdominal surgery but the wound had been left opened so they could clean it out. Bobby joined me at the bedside.

"That machine is for negative pressure wound therapy. It will remove excess drainage and help the abdominal wound to close." Bobby squeezed my hand. "He is stable. Critical but stable." Then he described the complex cardiothoracic surgery Ranger had.

"They had a couple of moments during the surgery where they weren't sure he would make it. Stable is the best we can hope for right now." I leaned on his shoulder and remembered when this glorious man asked me to be his wife. An untraditional proposal for an untraditional couple.

Ranger came home a little after one. I got out of bed when I heard him in the kitchen.

"I didn't expect you to still be up," he said when I walked in.

"I couldn't sleep

He asked why I couldn't sleep and I told him I had things on my mind.

"Morelli is coming home tomorrow."

"And?"

"I'm feeling guilty. He doesn't know I have been staying here."

"Do you feel guilty because he doesn't know or because you like staying here?"

"Both," I said

"Then I don't see where you have a problem. Give him back his dog and tell him you're living with me."

"I can't do that. I am in a committed relationship with him."

"Where's the commitment? Is he going to marry you?"

"Maybe someday."

"Maybe never," Ranger said. And you can do better."

"Really? Who's better than Morelli and is willing to marry me? Name one person."

"Me." Ranger said.

His eyes held mine. Unblinking. The ultimate poker face. I didn't have much of a poker face, but I was pretty good at recognizing a bluff.

"Okay," I said. "When?"

Because I was a replacement bridesmaid for my cousin's wedding and Ranger had business meetings that could not be moved, "when" was going to be Wednesday. Only now, that would not be possible.

There was the data breech, and Ranger had to leave and then he got shot. They tried to kill him. And from the look of him they very nearly succeeded.

Oh God, why did we waste so much time?

"Bobby, as soon as he is well enough, I want us to be married. No more waiting, postponing and nonsense. Can you see what we need to do to make it happen as soon as possible?"

Bobby handed me a handkerchief. "Bomber, I will make sure that as soon as he is able to say his vows, that it is done. You have my word." He then stepped out of the room, leaving me with the man who would be my husband.

If he lived.