Disclaimer: I don't own them, Janet Evanovich does. I'm getting nothing out of this except the satisfaction of Ranger ending up with Stephanie.

Spoiler Warning: All books, but especially Twelve Sharp.

When & Where: This is the sequel to Twelve and One Half, still inside Ranger's head and his life.

Rating: PG – R for violence and language.

Ten days before Stephanie's birthday…

Just about a year ago, I got shot by a nut job named Scrog. He wanted to be me. One of the first things he did was to steal my identity. Then he kidnapped my daughter. Last but not least, he set his sights on Stephanie Plum. That was his biggest mistake.

Not for the reasons he might have thought, either. The woman is, admittedly, one of a kind. She's a little crazy. She's a lot of independent. She's Wonder Woman, Bat Girl, and Cat Woman all rolled into one. She's a powerful force of nature. She's unstoppable. She's a handful, to say the least.

This past year, my life has been filled with Stephanie. While I was cooling my heels in the hospital, she told Morelli she loved him. He sent her to me, thinking she'd get me out of her system and settle down with him. That was his mistake.

I'm a mercenary. I'm cool, calculating, opportunistic, driven and relentless. I'm also no dummy. Which is why, when she arrived on my doorstep bearing cake and flowers the day I got out of the hospital, I kept her. We live together. We work together. We love together. We fly together.

That being said, there are days she scares the shit out of me. There are days I want to strangle her. There are days she drives me crazy. There are days she terrifies me. There are days I want to hold her and kiss her and make it all better.. Today is all of those days rolled into one, and it's not even nine a. m. yet.

She and Hector left to pick up a skip at seven. We had good Intel that the guy was in his girlfriend's fifth floor apartment, sleeping off last night's excesses. It was half right; he was there. He wasn't impaired, though. He jumped out a window and started down the fire escape. Steph went after him. Because it was her and not Hector out there, the fire escape collapsed under the combined weight of Steph and the skip. The skip fell four stories. He's being loaded into an ambulance right now.

The good news: Steph didn't fall. The bad news: her utility belt is caught somehow and we can't get her down easily. Because it is Steph hanging on the side of the building, there isn't a utility truck or fire truck available to get her down for at least another hour. So, Hector is leaning out a window, holding onto her for all he's worth, in case the belt breaks. I'm leaning out the window, Tank holding my ankles, trying to get the fucking belt loose. Normally, I'd cut it, but I can't do that without cutting her, because of the way it's caught and digging into her skin. I can't see where the belt is caught. There's no slack. I have no leverage to gain any slack, even with Hector's help.

I'm ready to scream.

I look at her. She's not crying. She's stopped cursing. I can see the beginnings of panic in her eyes.

I smile. "You okay, Babe?"

"Just great," she says through her teeth. "Any chance of you getting me out of here today?"

"Workin' on it, Babe."

"Work faster. I want to be out of here before any reporters show up."

Hell. To tell her or not to tell her? "Little late for that."

A grimace. "My mother is going to kill me."

"I'll protect you." She smiles at me.

I hear a beep, indicating that I have an incoming cell call. It had better be good news – like a cherry picker capable of reaching her. I reach up and press the button to activate the wireless earpiece. "Yo."

"We're on the roof. Bobby's gearing up. Should be less than five minutes."

"Thanks Lester." I disconnect.

"Good news, Babe."

"My mother's gone blind and deaf?"

"No. Lester and Bobby are on the roof. Bobby's coming down and we'll have you loose in a few minutes." I hope.

"Thank God." I agree. "I think my arms are a few inches longer than when they started this morning." That earns her one of my best smiles.

I hear Bobby calling to me. I look up. "Here comes Bobby, Babe. I'm going to go back inside so he can reach you." A nod from her. I kiss her head. Tank pulls me back in the window. I take over for Hector, who's been holding onto her for at least an hour now.

Bobby looks at the belt and starts turning Steph a little, looking at the belt and what it's caught in. With each movement, Steph looks down. Now she's making small, panicked noises. Bobby is trying desperately to free her before she loses it. He tries lifting her, then pulling her toward him. Neither works.

"How the fuck did you do this, Baby?" Bobby has found out how the belt is caught.

"I fell. This only happened because it's me, you know. Hector wouldn't have fallen." Her voice has taken on a slightly hysterical edge.

"Babe." It's a command and she knows it. She looks up at me. Her eyes are panicked now, and filled with tears. Shit. I hate when she cries. "You're okay, Babe. I've got you, and you know damned well I'm not letting go."

She nods. "I know you won't drop me."

I use Hector's Trick, as I've come to think of it. Softly spoken Spanish. Telling her everything would be fine. I won't ever let her go. I love her. We'll get her out of this soon, and I'll take her home. I'll have Ella bring pineapple upside down cake. She doesn't understand most of what I'm saying, but it doesn't matter. I can see her relaxing. Her breathing slows and becomes controlled. Her eyes clear, never leaving mine. Thank you for teaching me that trick, Hector.

"Lift her a little, Ranger." Bobby's eyes are focused on something I can't see. I lift a little, meeting resistance almost as soon as she moves up the lightest bit.

With the flash of a knife, she's free and I pull her inside. Her feet never hit the floor because I lift her into my arms. Her head hits my chest and her eyes close. Relief flows through me.

Bobby climbs in the window and hands Hector her mutilated belt. "How'd that happen?"

Hector was shaking his head. "I saw it happen, and I can't figure it out."

"I tripped," comes a small voice from the vicinity of my chest. The four of us look down at her. "I tripped when the landing shifted. I hit the wall. When the rest of the fire escape fell, I stayed stuck to the wall."

"I told you I should have gone out the window." Hector's shaking his head and smiling.

"You're supposed to throw people out the window, not chase them out. Didn't I teach you anything?" Tank asks with a grin. He leans over and ruffles her hair.

"I got nothing." Bobby shakes his head. "She got the belt twisted around the only anchor that held. I don't think I want to know how that happened. It was wrapped so tight it was cutting into her skin."

I shift her, trying to see if the belt broke the skin or not. Sure enough, the back of her shirt is soaking up blood. I set her down on the floor and crouch next to her so I can assess the injury. Ouch. That's got to hurt. Deep scrapes and gouges where the belt cut in under her ribs. And that looks like...

"Christ, Bobby you cut her!" Bobby turns white. Hector turns on him.

"Oh shit! I thought I had enough space! Oh fuck." He's on his knees next to me, rummaging through his pockets for some gauze pads. "I'm so sorry Baby."

"Bobby. Shut. Up." He shuts up. I've noticed that the guys really scramble to obey when she uses that tone of voice. "It's okay. Better cut than crushed. And I'm back on solid ground. That's all I care about."

Bobby regains some color. Hector relaxes. From the corner of my eye, I see Tank relax. Jesus, it's not just me she's got tied up in knots on days like this. It's all of us. And not one of us complains. Not one of us would have it any other way. She's given every last one of us something of herself in the past year. There's nothing we won't do for her. I top the list of people who will do anything for her, but Hector's damned close.

I shake my head.

Lester shows up as I'm pulling her shirt off. "Free show?"

"Fuck you, Santos." Apparently, none of today's injuries are affecting her mouth.

Hector produces enough gauze pads and cling to clean her up and bandage her. Bobby strips off his shirt and hands it over. "Here. Put this on. Your shirt needs a wash."

"Thanks." I help her get the shirt on. She winces. "Ouch!"

I look at her. She's short of breath. I run my hands over her ribs. She winces, sucks in some air, then she gasps for more. I sigh. She looks at me. "NO! Oh, no! It's bad enough I'm going to make the news at noon. No way."

"Yes."

"No!"

I end the argument by scooping her off the floor and handing her to Hector. I grab Steph's shirt and the remains of the utility belt with her gear and we all head for the parking lot. I get into the Navigator behind the wheel. Hector gets into the passenger seat, Steph in his lap. She tries to struggle but gives up after about two seconds. I drive us to the emergency room at Trenton General.

The increase in her bond range has brought a subsequent increase in accidents. This means that we make more frequent trips to the ER. Everyone in every ER in the city knows us by now. It embarrasses Steph. She gripes at Hector and me all the way there. "I told you this would happen. I warned you that I would embarrass you all. And now, I'm going to be banned from dessert for life! Can't you just take me home, Ranger?" I can see her pouting from the corner of my eye.

I shake my head. "Not this time, Babe. Let's have some x-rays done of your ribs and see if you need stitches."

"Stitches?" Should have known she'd latch onto that one.

"Um, yeah. Some of those scrapes are deep." No point in telling her she's got a three inch long gash from Bobby that's leaked blood through all the gauze pads, the cling, Bobby's shirt, and is now soaking into Hector's uniform. She'll only get more upset.

Hector carries her in while I park the SUV. She's already got a bed by the time I get inside. She's laying on her side while a nurse looks over the cut on her back. I get a smirk from the nurse, along with a head shake.

"Been a while, guys." She's right. We haven't been here in four months.

A doctor orders up x-rays. Nothing broken. Just the cut, and the usual bruises and scrapes. Thank God. A local anesthetic is injected. He stitches her up, gives her a shot of who-knows-what, hands over a stack of paperwork with a prescription for pain meds on top, gives instructions for a follow-up appointment, and we're on our way. It's my turn to ride shotgun with Steph in my lap. I love holding her. She snuggles into my chest, with her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her tightly, careful not to brush against the stitches or other injuries.

We swing by the pharmacy on the way home for the pain meds. Hector grabs a bag of mini candy bars to placate her. By the time we're back at Haywood, she's asleep. She can sleep anywhere, anytime, and through just about anything. It's one of her many gifts.

I stop by the control room with her on the way to our apartment. I'll never hear the end of it if I don't give everyone a chance to look her over and see for themselves that she's okay. As soon as I walk in the room, Bobby takes her from me. He looks like he's feeling really guilty. Tank takes her from him with a dirty look. She's handed over to Lester next. Hal is a little afraid of her, so Junior holds her while they both inspect her. Cal's next in line. When everyone's satisfied that no permanent damage has been done, she's returned to me. She's still sleeping. Go figure.

Someone - probably Bobby - called Ella. There's a fresh pineapple upside down cake on the counter.

I carry her to the bedroom and put her on the bed. I gather up clean clothes. I get a basin of warm water to clean off the blood. I strip her, clean her up, dress her in clean sweats, and put her under the covers. She's still sleeping. I don't know whether to be impressed or horrified.

I leave her a note telling her about the cake. I bet she eats half of it before dinner.

I settle into the chair in my office. On top of the pile of paperwork in my inbox is a request for a bid to do security for a local concert venue. We've submitted bids to them in the past. Even when we were the lowest bidder, we were turned down. Now, with Steph as a RangeMan representative, they request our bids - they hire us, too.

I was right when I told her that she'd improve our image and make us look less like a gang of thugs. We've gotten other accounts for which we'd been passed over prior to her employment here. The clients love her. No surprise there. Even her skips usually like her. Hell, she's got a few that go with her voluntarily. On more than one occasion, Hector's pride has been bruised when a skip won't cooperate for him and then jumps right in the car for her. It makes up for the times she ends up covered in garbage, gets puked on, stalked, kidnapped and all the other things that happen to her.

Not once has she embarrassed RangeMan, Hector, the guys, or me.

She's well liked and well-respected by everyone here. The guys love her. Hector worships her. There are fewer bets placed on her these days. She's had the Mini for over a year now. The Navigator doesn't have so much as a scratch on it. Nothing in her vicinity has blown up or caught fire in a good long time. She's become more confident and more successful. She does her job well, even if she is accident prone. She has good friends and a good support system these days.

I'm proud of her.

Her mother has slowed down on the nagging her about her job. Today's escapade is going to get Steph some grief, though. To tell the truth, it's going to get Hector and me some grief at Sunday dinner, too. Most likely, we'll all get phone calls from Mama Plum before the day is out asking how we could have let this happen.

Mrs. Plum is still trying to Val-ify Steph, but she's turned down the volume some. I'm looking for the mute button for that subject.

I sort out the papers in my inbox and the messages on my blotter. Items that must be dealt with now, from the office. Items that must be dealt with in the next forty-eight hours. Items that can be dealt with later. I set aside things that I can do from the couch in our apartment. I'd rather be working up there than down here.

I take care of the pressing business. A few hours later, I'm finally done. I check in at the control room before I return home.

Bobby's still looking like he feels guilty. Steph wasn't upset, so I'm not. Okay, so I'm a little pissed. I don't like it when someone hurts her. Logically, I know that Bobby was trying to help her, not hurt her. I wish he'd been more careful, but he didn't let her fall, so I'm not going to make an issue of it.

"Did Ella bring the cake?" Bobby asks without looking at me. I knew it.

"It's on the counter, waiting for her."

He looks relieved. "Oh, good."

"Anything going on I should know about, Lester?"

"Nope. All the monitored accounts have been quiet. Today's FTA's have been picked up and delivered to the cop shop. Body receipts have been turned in at Vinnie's."

"Where's Hector?"

Lester shoots a glare at Bobby an says, "You have to ask? He went back to the hospital and took care of the paperwork for their skip, then turned in their receipt. He's upstairs now, watching over Sleeping Beauty."

I crack a smile at Bobby. He looks nervous. I let my smile go cold for a minute. "Need a refresher in knife safety, Bobby?"

Now he's dead white. I know I shouldn't play with him. I'm not mad, and he loves her as much as everyone else. He shakes his head. "No." His voice is firm and clear.

I let him off the hook and let my smile thaw. "Didn't think so. Just thought I'd check."

His color comes back again and he relaxes. "She mad at me?"

"Hell, no. She's just glad you didn't get her shot or get her arrested. You know she doesn't like that." The control room is filled with laughter. Another gift from her. Here, inside these walls, there's warmth and laughter. No more cool mercenaries, working like automatons. Unless there are clients here, the atmosphere is now warm and comfortable.

"I told her she's no fun at all. Doesn't like to be shot at. Doesn't want to be arrested. Doesn't like the ER." Another laugh from the on duty crew.

"I'll be upstairs if I'm needed."

"Skipping out on work, Ranger?" Tank asks slyly.

I hold up the paperwork. "Going to work from the comfort of my home."

I leave the floor with their laughter following me.

"Hector."

"Ranger."

"She still sleeping?"

A smirk. "No. She's sleeping again. She got up and had cake with me about an hour after I got here. I gave her a pain pill at two. She fell asleep watching television, so I put her back to bed."

I shake my head. I look at the pill bottle and realize why she's so sleepy. "These pills are killer. This is the same dosage they gave me when I got shot, and I outweigh her by at least a hundred pounds. She won't be able to keep her eyes open until she stops taking them."

"No problem. I'll take Lula with me tomorrow. We'll cover her skips. After we've got them rounded up, we'll go after Catalina Rosen."

"Good idea to take Lula to go after her." Rosen was a middleweight in the street level distribution of illegal narcotics. Her bond amount was in RangeMan's contract, but she was given to Stephanie and Hector because Catalina was bad news for male agents. More than once, she claimed to have been sexually assaulted by someone taking her in. Most bond companies wouldn't touch her because of that. Vinnie bonded her out because he had Lula and Stephanie to collect her. Now that Hector had been added to the mix, there was another available bond enforcement agent at Vinnie's disposal who could handle her. Still, better safe than sorry. It's always a good idea to have a female agent when you're taking down a female skip.

"I thought so. Besides, Lula loves to stun people. She doesn't get to do that when she works with Tank." We both chuckle. Most skips in Lula's range took one look at Tank and were more than willing to go with her to the station. Anything to keep Tank from crushing them like bugs.

"Good point."

"Ella called to say dinner will be ready at six-thirty, so let her know when you want it."

"Thanks." We both knew I was thanking him for more than the message from Ella.

"No problem." We both knew he meant it, even with what I had left unsaid.

"I'll be by in the morning to check on her."

"Okay. I'm going to arrange to work here most of tomorrow. I don't want her to be alone."

"I'll be by as soon as I can so you get into the office."

"Okay."

Hector heads home for the night. Funny how comfortable it is to have him here, so involved in our lives. At one point, I didn't have any trust or faith in him as a man or as an employee. Now, he cares for the one person I love more than anyone else. He watches over her when I can't. He protects her as I do. He has proven that his value is amongst the highest. I can trust him completely, and it's a comforting thought. Like her father and me, he'd die for her and he'd kill to keep her safe.

In the bedroom, Steph is laying on her side, lovingly and carefully tucked in. There's a glass of water on her nightstand, along with a cell phone, just in case. The clock tells me it's six, so I call Ella to ask her to bring dinner as soon as it's ready. I decide to wake Steph so that her eyes are open by the time dinner arrives.

"C'mon, Babe." I rub her shoulder. I push her hair back out of her face and frown. Her skin is hot. I'll have to watch that. She may need an antibiotic. She probably should have been given a prescription for one today. I make a mental note to go back through her paperwork in case I missed it.

She grunts and rolls onto her back. "Ugh. Ow!"

"Shouldn't roll over on those stitches, Babe." Another grunt.

"Wassamatter?"

"Almost time for dinner."

Her eyes open. They look cloudy and a little unfocused. Damn. Maybe I can convince her that Advil will take care of the pain. "Dinner?"

"Dinner." That gets her up. Slowly. I grab her arm when she gets up off the bed and sways. "Dizzy?"

"No. Yes. I think I'm just sleepy." That's it, no more prescription pain pills. Advil from here on out.

I get her into the bathroom and then to the couch. I wrap her in an afghan that Hector and Juan gave her last Christmas. It's all different shades of blue, from a pale ice blue to a deep midnight blue. One of the blues perfectly matches her eyes.

She settles in and closes her eyes. "Feel okay, Babe?"

"No." Shit.

"What doesn't feel good?"

"My back." Well, that's no surprise.

"Anything else?"

"I don't think I like those pills." Good. That makes things easier.

"Want Advil instead?"

"I guess."

"Next time you're due for a pain pill, I'll give you that instead of the script."

"'Kay." Hope we have Advil. She tends to go through a lot of it. I'll have Ella get more when she brings dinner.

"Did the doc give you any other prescriptions?"

"I dunno." Her speech is slightly slurred. I'm not sure whether it's because of the pain med or the fever.

I hunt down the paperwork. Sure enough, there's a prescription for an antibiotic stuck to the back of the discharge slip.

I call the control room. This needs to be filled now. Bobby draws the short straw and comes to get the prescription. I tell him to get the biggest bottle of ibuprofen he can find while he waits.

In the meantime, Ella has arrived with dinner. I bring it to the living room. Steph's dozed off again, so I have to wake her up to feed her. Ella made all her favorites. She eats, but not as much as usual. I decide that maybe she'll be tempted by more cake, so I go to get her a piece.

No wonder she's not hungry for dinner. She ate the whole damned cake. That makes me feel better. She hasn't lost her appetite, she's just full of cake.

She sits on the couch, eyes half shut, until Bobby comes back around seven thirty. He's brought the antibiotic and a bottle of 500 ibuprofen tablets. He's also got a peace offering: A king sized Snickers bar. He hands it to her and she thanks him. She puts it down on the table and his jaw drops. She never puts down chocolate.

He looks at me, the question clear in his eyes: What the Hell is wrong with her?

"She ate the whole cake you had Ella make her."

He laughs. "That would explain it."

I nod, then shake my head. Nice to know that the slightest change in her eating habits has us all in a panic. While one part of me is grateful that everyone at RangeMan accepted her without question and formed a caring support system for her, another part of me is a little jealous of all the male attention she receives. I have absolute trust in every one of them, especially Steph, but some days it's hard to see how much they care for her. I don't know quite why. Maybe it's the fear that if I screw this up my whole company will be hunting me down to kill me.

After Bobby leaves, I give her one of the antibiotic pills. She needs one every eight hours. She's due for the next pill at four in the morning. That'll make her happy. I also hand over four of the ibuprofen tablets. After she's swallowed all five pills, it's back to bed.

I decide that an early night sounds good to me, too. I turn off the lights and crawl in bed next to her, carefully pulling her into my arms. She sighs and snuggles up. I love this. Bedtime is now my favorite time of day.

I don't know what woke me up. It wasn't the alarm on my watch. I'm used to that. Steph's still in bed, so a trip to the bathroom or kitchen isn't the culprit.

I lay perfectly still, breathing slowly and evenly, listening. It's unlikely that someone broke into the building or our apartment, which means there's probably an emergency somewhere that requires my attention. I watch the bedroom door, waiting for it to open. It doesn't, and I don't hear a thing beyond it.

Just when I'm ready to get up and go check it out, I hear a sound from the other side of the bed. A moan. I reach for Steph, thinking she must have rolled onto her stitches.

She's burning hot. She shouldn't be this hot. An infection? Possible. Flu? I immediately dismiss illness and return to the possibility of infection. After all, she was fine yesterday morning. Grumpy about having to get up and be out the door early, but not flushed or fatigued. No coughs or sniffles. No complaints beyond the hour of the morning.

While my mind is running through potential causes, I head for the bathroom to get a thermometer. I don't have one. I call down to the control room. We keep them in the med kits. In under two minutes, there's a med kit at my door. It's delivered by Manuel, who's wearing a concerned look. "Anything I can do?" he asks. Christ. She's worked with him maybe once. Seen him a half dozen times. And she's got him worried too. But then, she did tell the nurse she was his wife after Scrog shot him…

I decide to take him up on his offer. "I need Ella. Get Hector. Get the doc who saw her in the ER on the phone now. I'm going to check her temp." I move of to the bedroom while he pulls out a phone and starts with the calls. I press the thermometer into her ear, gently. She moans and shifts, but doesn't even open her eyes. I look at my watch while I wait. It's only two thirty. What the Hell is going on with her?

Beep. Holy shit. Her temp is one hundred four degrees. This is bad.

Manny appears in the doorway. "Doc wants to know how high her temp is."

"A buck four."

"Shit. It's one hundred four, Doc." He's listening now. "Okay. Yes. I understand. Thank you." Manuel hangs up and starts relaying instructions. "Cool her off in a lukewarm bath. Make sure she takes her antibiotics. Give her Tylenol to help reduce the fever. If she's no better in four hours, she goes back to the ER. If she gets worse, take her in immediately. She has a seizure, call an ambulance."

"That's what I figured." Simple, basic, common sense things. I don't know why I didn't think of that. Yes, I do. I'm not always able to think rationally where she's concerned. "Get Ella up here. I'll need help. I don't have any Tylenol here, either, so someone needs to get some. Call Hector and let him know I'll be taking tomorrow off, so he doesn't need to rush back here to sit with her. Call Tank and tell him he's the boss until further notice."

Manuel is back on the phone.

Ten minutes later, Ella is at the door. Manuel lets her in then leaves. I've got Steph in the bathroom, soaking in the tub. She half woke up when I put her in the water, but didn't protest or fight me. Ella asks for details and leaves to get cool fruit juice for Steph to wash down the Tylenol with. I wring out a wet washcloth over Steph's shoulders. I wipe down her face. Over and over I run the wet, tepid cloth over her. Ella returns with a glass of juice and two Tylenol tablets.

"Give her these." I obey. Steph wakes up just enough to swallow the pills and drink the juice. I hand the empty glass back to Ella. "I'll bring another glass now, and I'll leave one on the nightstand. There's a whole container of this in your refrigerator."

"Thank you, Ella." Is it my imagination, or is Steph's body a little cooler? I look at my watch. Twenty minutes in the tub. Maybe, but probably wishful thinking.

Ella returns with the fresh glass of juice. "Ella, can you get me the thermometer from the nightstand?"

"Of course." She gets it. I press it into Steph's ear. One hundred three point two. Not much of a drop, but at least it didn't stay the same or go up. I heave a sigh of relief.

Ella is standing in the doorway, waiting for a report. "It's gone down a little. I'm sorry I got you out of bed. I'll get our breakfast in the morning. Please, sleep in."

"It's no problem, Ranger. You hired me to take care of your building and the people in it. No need to apologize. I'll be up with Louis, so I'll get your breakfast as usual." Her tone brooked no argument from me.

"Thank you."

"I'm going back downstairs. If you need anything else, you call me." It's an order and I know it. She places a cell phone on the edge of the sink. "Anything."

"Okay."

I turn back to Steph and begin running the wet washcloth over her again.

At three forty-five, her temp is down to one hundred one. She's a little more with it. She's had the second glass of juice. Her fingers and toes are pruney. Time to get out of the bath tub. I dry her off with minimal assistance from her. She's able to stand upright for me, though. I manage to get her dressed with the same amount of her participation. By the time I get her back to bed, it's time for the second antibiotic pill. I give her that with the third glass of juice.

Finally, I fall into bed next to her. I'm exhausted. I'm worried. I'm stressed. Life with her is never dull. It's a roller coaster ride, every day. Some days, it's a free fall without a parachute. Some days, it's a fall with a parachute and a soft landing. Every day is an adventure, for better or for worse.

I wouldn't give this up for anything in the world. I wouldn't change her for anything in the world.

The apartment door opens at six thirty. I groan. I just got to sleep. I don't want to wake up, let alone get out of bed. Steph's still sleeping soundly - and still has a temp of one hundred one. I know; I've been checking every thirty minutes or so.

A soft knock on the bedroom door. "In." It's Hector.

"You look tired." I'll bet.

"Long night." An understatement.

"I heard." I know.

"What's up?"

"Just came to check on her, see if you want me to get anything. I'm not meeting Lula until eight. She's coming in with Tank." Figures. They're more or less living together at her apartment now. I know it's just a matter of time before they make it official. And really, I'm happy for them.

"She's better. Her temp has dropped three degrees. We're okay for now. Ella brought juice and Tylenol in the middle of the night, and she's bringing breakfast at seven thirty."

"Call me if anything changes." Like I wouldn't. I've got a lot to live for these days; I don't want to die because I pissed off Hector. "Juan will be by around lunch to feed her. He cooked half the damned night. I think you'll have food and dessert until her birthday."

I laugh softly. "I'll call you. What did Juan cook?" Juan is a chef at one of the most exclusive restaurants in Manhattan. Having him cook for you personally is the highest honor he can bestow upon you. He cooks for Steph every chance he gets.

"Everything." Hector shakes his head. "He cooked all things that are easy to reheat. He made at least three different cakes. He made cookies. He made salads."

I laugh again. Maybe I should have asked what he didn't make. "Thanks for letting him cook for her."

"Like I could stop him." Hector comes over to the bed and kisses her head. Her eyes half open. She's very groggy.

"Hector?"

"Si. How are you this morning?"

"It's morning?"

"Si. Morning."

"We were just watching TV…" She's obviously a little disoriented. She rolls over and notices me. "When did you get home?"

"Last night, Babe."

"Oh… What time is it?"

Hector looks at his watch. "Six forty eight."

She groans. "It's not morning, then." She rolls over to go back to sleep.

"Babe, you need to take some more Tylenol before you go back to sleep."

Hector heads to the kitchen for more juice while I get the Tylenol. I hand her two tablets. Hector hands her the juice. She takes the pills and drinks the juice, then curls up again.

Since I'm out of bed, I walk Hector to the door.

"You okay, man?" He's studying my face carefully.

"She scared the shit out of me last night. And that was after she scared the shit out of me yesterday morning." I shake my head.

"She does that."

"She does."

"You done being scared?" He's grinning at me. I can't help but grin back.

"Hell, no." Now he laughs.

"Have fun today. She's going to be real cross."

"I know."

"You got Ghostbusters and chocolate?"

"Hell, yes. And Ella's making her chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, so maybe we can start the day right."

"That's good." He leaves. I debate going back to bed, but Ella will be here with breakfast before long. I decide to go take a shower.

While I shower, I think about the plans for her birthday party.

Steph's birthday is next week, on Thursday. There's a big party planned for her next Friday. Half The Burg, most of RangeMan, most of Trenton PD, Connie and Lula will be there. Some of her skips have been invited. She'll have a blast. Sally Sweet and his band are playing. After much debate, Hector and I decided to invite Morelli. After all, he's been a part of her life for a very long time. While I wasn't happy with the things that happened last year, I can understand how he must have felt. She's not a woman you want to lose, ever. He's been fine since we sat down and talked, though. No more problems from him. He apologized to her, to her family, to me and to Hector for his behavior. I think he's realized that he'd rather have her as a friend than lose her totally. I can live with that.

Before that, though, on Thursday I have a very private, intimate party planned. It's a party that includes her, me, dinner, dessert, wine, and a very special gift. The gift is a ring I had George make me a while back. It comes with a proposal, but not the kind that will scare her. I'm going to ask her to spend her life with me. I'm going to allow her to choose the terms. I want to marry her. I want to possess her, to have her possess me, legally. But if that's not what she wants, I'll take what she's willing to give.

I'm not about to lose her.

It's been a long day. After yesterday, then being up nearly all night, I've gone past exhausted and moved on to autopilot. Steph slept on and off all day. She's still feverish, but her temp hasn't risen again. The hours of the day have been marked by doses of Tylenol and antibiotics, juice and whatever food I can get her to eat.

Juan arrived promptly at noon. He had a stack of boxes on a hand truck. They were filled with food. Hector wasn't kidding when he said we would have food until her birthday… And it's still nine days away. Our refrigerator is overflowing, and there's enough dessert to keep even Steph happy for weeks. Looks like Ella will get a break from cooking for us. This won't please her; she takes her job very seriously, and she loves to cook for someone who appreciates food as much as Steph does.

I look at my watch. It's only four. All I can think about is going to sleep. Steph is asleep on the couch. I set the alarm on my watch and lift her up. I lay down and settle her on top of me, wrapped in my arms. I close my eyes and let myself crash.