A Soldier's Peace

By S.B. Zarben

sbzarben@gmail.com

Disclaimer: Although the story takes place in Dallas, all of the locations are fake and created by my imagination. There is a Naval base in San Diego, however I have never been there and the base is my own creation as well. Any resemblance to the base in San Diego, persons in the Navy, or real events that took place is purely coincidental.

Emotional Disclaimer: This story does deal with war and the effects that it can have on a person. There are some scenes of war and death, and if this type of thing bothers you then I suggest you find something else to read. You have been warned.

Accuracy Disclaimer: I don't claim to know a lot about computers - just how to use 'em - or the workings of the Navy. So, if you spot some big, huge, glaring mistake, that goes against all the rules of computers or such, just chalk it up to Creative License. Yep, just ignore it or something. Or you could pretend that it says what it's supposed to say. ;) Thanks.

Author's Note: For those of you who may be familiar with my first story Revolutionary, you can rest assured that I am definitely going to write a sequel. As a few gracious readers informed me, without a sequel, Revolutionary isn't finished. I agree. You'll have to be patient, though, I have a few other ideas I need to get written down first.

Thanks,

SB Zarben

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Death.

Death has a stench, kind of sour and foul, with the metallic tang of blood and decay mixed in.

There is death all around you. Its cause came raining down from the sky or ambushed you from the trees. Maybe it surprised you and came up from the ground, hidden, until you stepped in just... the right place. Or in this case, the wrong place.

If you're lucky, it comes fast and takes you swiftly. If you aren't, then you are left to lie there, among your friends and die slowly, painfully, listening to your comrades yells and seeing them fall all around you.

You hurt. You don't remember ever hurting this much before, and as the world starts to slowly fade away, you wonder how it's possible to be in this much pain and still be alive. You're stuck on the ground. There's something on top of you, but you don't know what it is. It might be a body, an old friend, or maybe a tree-- that would be preferable. It's hard to see, so you're left with only sound. But that's okay, you wouldn't like what you would have seen anyway.

It seems cruel, to go this way, but you knew what you were getting yourself into when you accepted this position. You wanted to help people, maybe try to make a little bit of a difference. You were a fool, you realize that now.

The battle is slowing now, and you idly wonder if there is anyone left. Anyone who may see you and decide to release you from this agony. The chances of one of your own still being alive are slim. So maybe one of the people who had attacked you in the first place. Perhaps they would start sifting through the garbage and decide to finish you off.

Not out of pity. No. You don't want their pity. Just relief from the nightmare that is your mind. You're stuck with it, and all its half-crazy musings. A captive audience. You just want it to stop.

Then, as the surroundings slowly start to drift back towards their natural silence, and the denizens of the forest start to reemerge, a single, solitary gunshot echoes throughout the carnage.

No one is left in a condition to hear the whirring blades of a helicopter. Surely, it was to have been their rescue.

******************

10 MONTHS LATER

The dominant sound in the medium sized cafe was the tapping of several keyboards. Patrons were sitting scattered around the different tables, drinking coffee, eating, and carrying out some sort of activity on a computer. The cafe featured many different computers that customers could use, after paying for a certain amount of time. However, not all of the people were occupied with a machine. In fact, seeing as it was one in the afternoon on a Monday, only a few people had the time required to get involved in something on the addictive machines.

If you listened carefully, you would be able to hear strident cursing coming from one of the most private corners of the establishment. The current waitress noticed the woman seated by herself and smiled slightly. She headed over to one of her regular customers to see why she was currently damning every god and divine being known to man, since this particular woman only swore when extremely ticked off.

The waitress stopped next to her customer and friend and waited for the young woman to notice her audience. Slowly, the cursing wound down and finally stopped. Sheepish eyes rose to meet the chocolate brown ones of the waitress. "Hey Stacey, what's up?"

"Ranelle, what on earth has got you sooo ticked off?" The woman at the computer grinned and lowered her head, golden tresses falling over her shoulders.

"Sorry if I was bothering anyone. I'm trying to finish off this stupid program for my computer design class final. It's the only course I have left to complete, you know. I just can't seem to get this stupid line coded right..." Ranelle pointed and Stacey immediately started shaking her head.

"Whoa, girl. Don't try and talk computers with me. I am completely ignorant on the subject. I'd help if I could. Why don't you talk to one of your classmates or something?"

"No, I can't do that. This should be easy for me, I'd feel stupid asking one of them for help. Besides, the professor was very clear about this final project. He said he didn't want anyone talking to anyone else about it. Then he started that mumbling thing, and all I caught were the words 'stealing' 'expulsion' 'failing' and 'idea'. Not necessarily in that order." Ranelle grinned but was privately ecstatic about this class being almost over. Without taking this class Ranelle would never be able to get a job in the computer design or security fields. Which had both always been her passion. It wasn't her fault that she didn't finish it off in Universtiy. Ranelle had been set to be done and ready for employment after five years in University. Then things had gotten sticky with her family, not to mention her hometown. So, she had taken the only option left open to her. She had picked up and moved, as far away as she could and still be sure that surviving wouldn't be an immediate problem. From Everett, Washington to Dallas, Texas. Ranelle had been attending school in Seattle, just south of Everett. And when everything in her life got to the point of Hell in a Handbasket, Ranelle hadn't hesitated to bolt. The young woman had found a relative whom she was on good terms with and was the farthest away from her small town. Unfortuntely, that cut into Ranelle's school plans and she never got a chance to finish two of her classes.

Ranelle had ended up with her Uncle Amark. For the first couple of months she lived with him and her cousin Amanda. Amark gave Ranelle a job at his magazine office as a researcher, seeing as a lot of his employee's were computer illiterate. She had also written a few columns for the magazine, her youthful and optimistic view giving her a unique spin on many different topics. The young woman also had a canny ability for getting facts from certain people that no one else could. Or getting reluctant subjects to actually talk to the reporter and not curse them out.

Ranelle had gotten together enough money to move into a place of her own after one year with her uncle. Now, after four years, she was finishing her schooling, held the same job her uncle had supplied only with slightly better pay, and had moved from a tiny rat infested apartment to a nice one bedroom in a better part of the city. Uncle Amark paid well, not to mention the fact that he hadn't charged her rent while she was living with him. Ranelle had often freelanced her talents to friends she had made during her time in Dallas. They paid well for her to design a site or secure their computer.

Now, finally, her life was starting to look like what it was supposed to forty-eight months ago. If only she could get this stupid line coded properly she was sure she would finish the course with flying colors and obtain her degree in computer science.

"Hey Ranelle! Yoo-who, where did you go off to?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking about things." Ranelle shook her head and turned determined green eyes back to the computer screen.

"Listen, girl. When is this thing due?"

"Why? I thought you couldn't help. Next week, Wednesday."

Stacey started nodding her head and smiled. "Okay, great. I'm going out with a bunch of friends on Friday night. Carly will be there, she's all into computers. I'm sure you'll be able to ask her."

Ranelle narrowed suspicious eyes at her friend. 'Is she trying to set me up? Oh, I think she is! Stacey, Stacey, when will you learn?' "I don't know Stace."

"Come on Ranelle. When was the last time you were out, girlie? It's not heal-thy!" Stacey said the last bit in a singsong voice. "Please," Stacey whined. "I promise you, I'm not setting you up. I swear, cross my heart." Stacey finished by crossing her fingers across her heart and plastering a winning smile on her face.

Ranelle threw her hands up into the air in a gesture of defeat. "Fine, okay, I'll go." Ranelle closed down her computer and ejected the disk, tucking in into her purse. She closed up her laptop, preferring to use it instead of the cafe computers. Ranelle stood, and looked at her curly-headed friend. "I have to go, Stace. I'll see you on Friday if not before. Oh, where are we going."

"Don't worry I'll see you before Friday. Just come here for seven, 'kay?"

Ranelle nodded and moved out of the cafe. She exited through the door and headed back to the magazine office. Upon her arrival, Ranelle hardly had enough time to put her belongings on her desk before she received an urgent message from Uncle Amark. As soon as Ranelle opened the door she was struck with how absolutely excited her uncle was. When he saw her at the door, the slender man stopped his energetic pacing and a huge grin split his face. "Ranelle, come in, come in. Sit."

Ranelle moved further into the office and sat down in one of the large stuffed chairs facing her uncle's oak desk. Amark finally managed to compose himself enough to sit still in his chair and start explaining his happiness to his niece. "Okay, listen to me very carefully. Do you remember, about ten months back, the newspapers and everything exploded with something that happened in the Middle East with our Army and Navy?"

When his niece only gave a hesitant nod Amark jumped into a detailed explanation. "Well, I'll tell you as much as I know. Which is everything that was released into the papers. Ten months ago, tensions in the Middle East flared up again and started getting violent. The US figured it would go in with more of its armed forces to try and hold everything together. Now, about three weeks in was when the real trouble started. There was a special team of Navy soldiers who were stationed at a classified base. Their purpose was also classified. They were the only one's there besides the usual support personnel who need to run any machinery in the base. All I know is that one day the entire base was attacked. With what or by whom, I have no clue, but the building and three acres of land in all directions from it were incinerated. There were about 22 people in the Navy team and another 11 support personnel and such in the base. It was a complete disaster. Reports on exactly what happened are very sketchy, because, well, only 15 people survived out of the 33 there. All of the support personnel got out and only four of the Navy sailors." Amark paused and looked at his niece, "Is any of this ringing a bell? Ranelle?"

Ranelle shook her head, dislodging the thoughts of horror and bloodshed. "Yeah, a little. What happened?"

"Obviously, the support personnel weren't a lot of help. All they could tell you was how they got out. Which was, of course, with the help of the Navy. Most of them passed out, and only three were seriously injured. Of the four officers who got out one is in the hospital in a coma - the doctors don't hold out any hope of him ever waking up. The second guy went home two and a half months after the incident with scars from second and third degree burns to 40% of his body, and the other practically disappeared off the face of the earth..."

"Wait, if he disappeared how do we know he's still alive?"

"There were reports of him being spotted in Denmark and North Carolina. As far as anyone else can tell, he got away relatively unscathed."

Ranelle sat watching her uncle, waiting for him to continue. When it appeared he had stopped, Ranelle prompted the man to speak again. "And....that's only three, what happened to the fourth guy?"

"Ah, yes. The fourth Naval survivor was just released from the hospital two weeks ago. Now..."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Two weeks?? Only two weeks ago? You mean to tell me this guy was in the hospital for just under ten months!? What happened?"

"Ahem, yes, exactly what happened to this particular fellow, is, well, speculation at best. Not very much was released on him. Just that he was a survivor and further inquiry on his condition and whereabouts was classified. Commander Dean Ransom, United States Navy, was the OIC (Officer In Charge) of the Navy team. And was also responsible for evacuating eight of the eleven support personnel, and all three of the critically injured ones. He also saved Lieutenant Bronce, who was the man released from the hospital after two months. That is all I could get on this guy, without saying that I'm writing an article on the entire event. You, my dear, get that honor!"

Ranelle stared at her uncle for several seconds, just blinking. "Bu...I...why...ho...what do you mean?" Ranelle spluttered. "Why would someone actually want to GIVE reporters information for articles? That's the most absurd thing I've heard. It takes all the fun out of reporting, and it...it...just doesn't make...well, sense! None, zip, zero, nadda, zilch!"

Chuckiling, Amark raised his hand. "Ranelle, girl. Calm down. This whole thing got a lot of publicity, bad publicity. And now the government is looking for someone to go out and tell the real story. They came to me, and now I'm going to you. Officially, you'll work through the Navy's PR department. You'll be given access to all the files on the issue that won't jeopardize national security, and can ask any question you want to the people who planned the campaign. I just can't guarantee you'll get an answer. Also, the Naval survivors were told they could answer all your questions about the event, within reason, of course. The thing is, they don't have to answer. And Ranelle, if there is one thing I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt, it's that people who have seen war and lost their comrades, they don't really like to talk about it. Which is why I want you."

"But..."

"Let me finish Ranelle. You have a good head on your shoulders and I know I can trust you not to print anything that you may overhear that shouldn't be released. And if anyone has a snowball's chance in hell of getting these people to open up, it's you. Anyone can talk to the big brass who stayed here and monitored everything, but it won't be a story if you can't get the people who lived it to talk to you. Oh, and Ranelle, the last thing you might want to know. Dean Ransom will be your best bet of people to talk to, seeing as the other guy is across the country and Dean makes his home in our very own Dallas. I got the address and put it in a folder with a bunch of other tidbits on your desk. Make me proud, Ranelle."

The young woman nodded and gave a weak smile as she stood and moved to the door. In a state of shock, she moved down the hall to her office. True to his word, a brown folder was sitting in the middle of her cluttered desk. 'I can't believe he just handed me what has to be one of the biggest stories of the year! Is he nuts or something, I can't do this! Yes you can Ranelle, it's just another story. Calm down.'

Ranelle sucked in a breath and set to work reviewing the folder.

********************

The wooden door slammed against the wall with a resounding thud. Ranelle didn't even bother to raise her head to see who had entered her apartment, she was so intent on her computer screen. The sound of the door closing followed by footsteps that eventually stopped at Ranelle's side came next. Finally, a loudly cleared throat was enough to cause the young researcher to raise her head. To see her cousin standing there with a decidedly annoyed look. "What are you doing?"

"Uh, working?" Ranelle replied with a question more than an answer.

"Come on Ranelle, it's Thursday! Duh. Have you been living in front of that screen for the last two days?"

"Thursday? It's Thursday? That's nice Amanda, what happens on....."

"Jeez, you are horrible Ranelle. Come on, close that down, if you stare at the screen any longer you'll go cross-eyed." Amanda reached over her cousin's shoulder and saved her current work and then exited the program. "Get up, it's noon on Thursday and time for our weekly lunch. Come on! Up!" Amanda pulled Ranelle up by her shoulders and dragged her sputtering cousin all the way to the door. Grabbing her coat and shoes, Amanda pushed Ranelle out the door and then headed off to the elevator.

Finally clueing into what was happening, Ranelle found her voice as she was standing in the elevator. "Amanda, why did you do that?! I was working!"

"I know. That's all you've been doing since dad gave you this assignment. So, you're getting out of that apartment with me, it'll give you some time to process whatever you were reading and you can even talk about the assignment with me. I don't care! Anything to get you out of the house."

A comfortable silence fell between the occupants of the elevator for several seconds until Amanda turned to face her cousin. "Ranelle, I know you want to talk about the entire thing. Cause that's ALL you've been doing. So spit it out! I actually want to hear about this." The elevator dinged on the ground floor and the pair exited the cart. They left the complex and started walking to one of their favorite restaurants. It didn't take long for Ranelle to dive headfirst into an explanation of her work.

"Amanda, this is sooo interesting. Even though I've spent the last two days on the phone with crabby Navy people requesting files and then having everyone ask their superiors to make sure that I can actually have access to them. I'm having a heck of a time getting DD-214's for all the..."

"DD what?"

"It's a summary of the sailors career, including training and station assignments, as well as medals and ribbons."

"Okayyyy."

"Anyway, once I got the files it was very educational. The basic objective is classified, so there isn't any written record that I'm allowed to see. Everyone told me that I'd have to talk to one of the officers involved to get an idea of the mission and what went wrong. But I did get a minimal file on Commander Dean Ransom. Now, that, was enlightening. There isn't a whole lot since almost everything he was involved in was classified. However, he was labeled as a genius with IQ tests, scoring well over 200. He graduated high school at 16 and was immediately approached by the Navy and several other organizations."

Amanda thought for a moment, drawing on her limited knowledge of the military and the Navy. "Don't you have to take a test to become an officer? ASVAB or something?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Aww.. come on Ranelle, don't be difficult!"

"99, which is like a perfect score."

"Huh."

"Hey, wait a sec, why would a genius want to enlist in the Navy?"

"Oh, right. Where was I.... it seems that in this family joining the Navy right after high school is a tradition, his father did it and so did his two brothers and one sister. So, Dean joined after graduating at the top of his class. He was also taking some University courses at the time and got his degree in computer science after a year in the Navy. It gets sketchy after that, but as far as I can tell Dean Ransom was an excellent officer and shot up through the ranks. He was promoted to Commander almost two years before the Middle East incident in 1998, and served for 16 years including the 10 months after the Middle East thing, too."

By this time, the cousins had arrived at the restaurant and were being seated at their favorite table. After ordering, Amanda started up the conversation again. "So, why haven't you spoken to this guy yet?"

Ranelle sighed and started playing with her silverware. "I'm going to, I have just about everything that I'm gonna get over the phone about this entire thing. Actually, I'm getting the feeling that they were purposely stonewalling me. I wanted to find out as much as I could about Commander Ransom before I spoke to him so I wouldn't be surprised. Plus, the guy got out of the hospital two weeks ago. I didn't want to start pestering him for details about the events that put him there too soon."

Amanda nodded as she stared digging into their newly arrived food. "Cool, so when are you going?"

"I was thinking about going tomorrow morning since I got sucked into going out with Stacey and a bunch of people Friday night. I'd do it then if I could. I'll call first, just to make sure I'm not interrupting anything, he might not even be home for all I know." Amanda nodded and the two finished eating in silence.

"You know," Amanda looked at her cousin, "about that whole 10 months in the hospital thing. That's sorta unbelievable what with modern medicine and all that. So what's the story there? Any idea."

The blonde scrunched her nose up and put down her fork. "Well, I'm not sure but it looks like Ransom was bounced around to a lot of different hospitals and rehab centers. Everything probably just took a long time to heal to the point where therapy could be started. And that probably took a hell of a long time."

Amanda glanced up, "What makes you say that?"

Ranelle shrugged, "Muscle damage."

They fell into a comfortable silence and made idle conversation while finishing their lunch. After paying the bill, the duo left and started walking back to Ranelle's apartment. "How's your final project going?"

"Huh, oh, I kinda forgot about that ever since I got this assignment. I figure that's a good thing, right? Besides, the whole point of going out on Friday is to get some help. It'll be fine." Amanda nodded and looked off into the distance.

"Great, listen, I have to get back to the office or dad is gonna flip. I'll see you later, okay. If not, I'll be with everyone else Friday night. And good luck with the article."

"Thanks. Bye." Ranelle finished walking back to her apartment in silence, already contemplating what she was going to ask Dean Ransom when she got in touch with him.

*****************

The next morning Ranelle conducted a search for the piece of paper that her uncle had given her that contained Dean Ransom's address and phone number. In two days of research, Ranelle had managed to make her desk look like a war zone. Papers and files and computer printouts littered the surface, making finding one solitary scrap of paper difficult.

Finally, after an exhaustive search of 10 minutes Ranelle emerged triumphant. Ranelle's cat, Terkers, however, suffered the fallout and retreated under the bed where she would stay for several hours. "Traitor," Ranelle commented in passing, on her way to the phone. "Alright, lets see here." Ranelle picked up the receiver and dialed, waiting patiently for an answer.

After several hundred rings, at least that's what it seemed like to the researcher, an automated answering machine picked up. Sighing her frustration, and hating to leave messages since it seemed so impersonal, Ranelle hung up. 'I'll try again later. This guy is either a heavy sleeper or a very early riser.' Looking at her watch, Ranelle noted that it was only 7:30. 'Oh, man, I hope he isn't a morning person. That always seems to mess things up when I'm trying to write an article.' Being someone who enjoys sleeping, and always tries to catch as much as possible, Ranelle resigned herself to the possibility of many early mornings in the future.

Grabbing her things, the young woman decided to get as much done as possible during the day since she was up and her night would be otherwise occupied with Stacey and company. Taking one last look at Commander Ransom's address and phone number, Ranelle folded the paper and stuck it in her pocket.

The golden haired woman arrived at the cafe, named Hego's, promptly at 8 am. She sat at her usual table and ordered coffee and a croissant. Just as her mind was turning back to the mysterious Naval officer a familiar voice broke in. "My God, I can't believe my eyes. Ranelle Maloch is sitting in front of me before 11 o'clock! I think I'm going to faint."

"Ha ha, Stacey. You should have taken up standup comedy, you would have done amazingly well." The sarcasm that dripped off Ranelle's words was enough to make the waitress think a puddle was going to form on the floor beneath Ranelle.

"Man, somebody got up off the wrong side of the bed. What's eating you?"

Ranelle heaved a sigh and looked at her friend. She had known Stacey since moving to Dallas, having met her through Amanda since they happened to be roommates and had been for a long time. It had been a blind date to start, although neither Stacey or Ranelle knew it. They had hit it off, but only as friends and still maintained a close relationship. Although Stacey had shifted into the role of match maker with Amanda. "Sorry, it's not you. I'm just getting a little fed up with my article. I got the distinct impression that the people on the phone were purposely not being helpful. And now I can't get a hold of Commander Ransom, although I've only tried once. I know it isn't his fault either, I'm just frustrated."

"Well, if you were getting the run around on the phone maybe this Ransom fellow is giving it to you, too."

Ranelle immediately shook her head. "Nu-hu, everything I've read about the Commander makes me think he is an honorable officer, who knows the rules and follows them. Unless following them would mean jeopardizing the lives of innocents. Ransom seems like the type of person who isn't a 'yes man' but knows how and when to keep his opinions to himself. Not to mention which rules he can get away with breaking and when to break them. All the progress and fitness reports I could get my hands on had one thing in common. It was something to the effect of 'Is an independent thinker who tends to disregard orders and rules for the sake of others.'"

Stacey shook her head, causing blonde ringlets to shake wildly, "Honey, in this day and age there ain't nobody left like that. Those selfless, caring types. No way, that's the stuff of fairy tales."

Ranelle grinned, "You can think that, but I'm telling you that's what Dean Ransom is like. It's one of the reasons he was recruited and made the commander of the team. As much as I could suck out about it was that it was a special Navy team that carried out operations everywhere on a regular basis. Not just the sea. They were specially trained, and the main purpose was going in to help out the victims in crisis. Also, they were some of the best and could kick serious ass."

"So you're telling me these people were chosen for their selflessness and willingness to sacrifice for complete strangers?"

"Pretty much. You wouldn't be much good at it if you weren't willing to risk it all."

"I don't know Ranelle, they sound like something else, what's that other group called. You know, they were always the first there and last to leave, and all that jazz."

"The Marine Corps."

"Yeah."

"Well, the Marine's are a branch of the Navy, but as far as I know the team was a Navy team. I'll just have to ask Commander Ransom, if I can get in touch with him."

"What about the SEALs? Sounds like them, too."

Ranelle rolled her eyes and sighed. "Stacey, I really don't know. They aren't SEALs, but I don't know what they are. Okay?"

"Right, well, enough talk about work. About tonight. We'll be going to The Rainstep, you know that club about twenty minutes from here?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"Great, just thought I'd tell you. Meet me here at seven and we'll go together in my car. No sense in both of use driving since you live so close to here and I'm already here with a car. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Seven. Gotcha."

"Great, oh and bring your laptop if you want Carly's help." Stacey shuffled away before Ranelle could answer, leaving her with her coffee and fresh croissant. The young reporter's mind turned to the issues that Stacey's innocent comments had raised and Ranelle started to think that this just might be getting more interesting.

After a leisurely breakfast Ranelle paid the bill and headed off to the office. When she arrived, Amanda was just walking through the door with a file. "Hey, I got that info you wanted about Ransom." She had requested that Amanda do a simple background check on the Commander at lunch the other day. It seemed her efficient cousin was still on the ball.

"Did you have any problems?"

"Nah, you wanted basic 'civilian' stuff. No problem. But I gotta tell ya, this is boring!"

"That doesn't matter. Thanks." Ranelle took the folder and plopped down into her desk chair.

"Welcome." Amanda parted, leaving Ranelle in peaceful silence. She flipped open the folder, which was basic records about taxes and a very borderline background check. Ranelle started reading. During the time that Dean Ransom had actually spent in Dallas, which was very little, it appeared he had been a model citizen. 'Taxes were paid on property owned, no criminal record of any kind, parents were your regular.....wait a minute.' Ranelle's eyes narrowed as she sat up straighter and took a closer look at the paper in her hands. Releasing a quiet curse, Ranelle leaned forward and entered something into her computer.

It stared back at her in black and white. 'I can't believe I missed this! Dean Ransom, born outside of the United States, immigrated at the age of 9. Father: Malcom Ransom, head and CEO of Ransom Securities.'

"Son of a gun! Malcom Ransom is the owner of the largest computer security/design company in the world. I can't believe it. And he passed the company onto Dean. Well I'll be damned. Now this is really getting interesting."

Looking at the clock and seeing that it was now 11 am, Ranelle decided to try calling Dean Ransom again.

No answer.

Ranelle sat back and stared at the computer again. 'At least I have something new to occupy my interest for awhile.' Ranelle settled back for some in depth reading on Malcom, his company, and family.

******************

Three hours later, Ranelle was pulled from her reading by a knock on her door. "Come in." She looked up to see Brock standing at the door. Brock was currently making his way through University and had been a fellow researcher ever since Ranelle had recommended him to Amark. Ranelle smiled and gestured the young man into the room. He stood at about 5'10" with interesting smiling gray eyes and sandy blonde hair. A splattering of freckles covered the area just under his eyes and across his nose. "You've been in here an awful long time Ranelle. Anyhting I should know about?" Brock said this with a grin and glanced around the room. "Everything seems just like I remember, so what could be so interesting?"

"You'll never guess what I found out about my article!"

"So why don't you just tell me and save us all a lot of time, then."

"Commander Ransom's father is Malcom Ransom." Ranelle waited for the realization to dawn on the young man's face. She didn't have to wait long. Brock's eye widened and his jaw dropped.

"THE Malcom Ransom!?" Ranelle simply nodded, still grinning at his response.

"Holy shit, Ranelle! How come you always get the good assignments?"

Ranelle shrugged, "You can close your mouth now, Brock. You're attracting flies." Brock's jaw closed with the clicking of teeth. "You know something else? Dean is the current CEO."

"Um...bu...I thoug...."

Ranelle started laughing at her friend's stuttering. "Are you trying to say 'How can you know that Ranelle? When Malcolm gave up control and named Dean as his successor everyone stared to think he didn't exist because no one saw him?'"

Brock nodded.

"It's because he was over seas at the time and just officially got back for an undetermined amount of time two weeks ago."

"Oh, wow, that's amazing." Shaking his head, Brock seemed to remember his reason for coming to see Ranelle. "I just though I'd tell you that I'm going to the club tonight. I'll see you there, 'kay?"

Ranelle absently nodded her head, engrossed in her reading again.

*****************

Four-thirty rolled around and Ranelle found herself wanting to talk to Commander Ransom even more now. Deciding to try calling on more time, she picked up the phone and dialed. This time, however, when the machine picked up Ranelle left a brief message explaining who she was and her reason for calling.

After hanging up Ranelle gathered her things to leave and paused briefly. 'I hope that was a good idea. Ah, who am I kidding. The guy would never take that seriously.'

Shrugging off her message, Ranelle left the office to prepare for an evening that she was sure would bore her to death.

*****************

After arriving home, Ranelle showered, changed, fed Terkers, and grabbed a light snack for herself. She had never been to The Rainstep and didn't have a clue what the food would be like. It was a realistic precaution.

Once she was ready to leave, Ranelle sat down with her laptop to kill some time. She opened it up to her final project and looked at the stubborn line of code with new eyes. Taking a break always helped, and Ranelle hadn't even thought about the program since Monday afternoon.

Still, Ranelle couldn't get the stupid line coded properly. The young researcher fiddled with it for awhile until it was time for her to leave. Ranelle stood, gathered her things and left after locking the door.

It was a short walk to Hego's, and the cool evening air made it even more enjoyable. Ranelle arrived at the front of the cafe just as Stacey was escaping out the front door. "Hey, Ranelle. Glad to see you aren't late."

"Hey, I'm never late, you're just always early!"

"Okayyyy, whatever you say. My car's over here, come on." Stacey led them to her wine colored Chevrolet and the two women piled in. Stacey started the car and eased them into the busy Dallas traffic. After several silent minutes Ranelle's curly-headed friend broke the silence.

"Everyone else should be there already. Did you bring your laptop?"

Ranelle lifted the bag on her lap slightly, "Right here."

"Good." Ranelle gave here friend a sidelong glance and then sighed.

"Are you sure you aren't setting me up?" Stacey's hesitation was all the answer that Ranelle needed. "Man, what is with you and Amanda?! Why do you insist on playing match maker? I'm perfectly happy with my life the way it is right now."

Stacey frowned as someone cut her off, "Don't you like Carly?"

"Carly is fine, she's smart, pretty, and even has an okay personality. But I'm not looking for a girlfriend! Jeez! What don't you understand about that!?"

Ranelle ended her mini-rant in a huff and Stacey prudently kept silent. In a few more minutes they pulled into the almost packed parking lot of The Rainstep. The women exited the car and headed toward the short line at the door.

After a five minute wait they were entering their chosen spot of entertainment. The Rainstep looked like a respectable club to Ranelle. Once you came through the door it was basically one giant square room. There was a bar immediately to the left and a stage for bands on the right. Tables lined the walls, leaving the space in between for dancers. A few couches resided in the back of the room, two of which were currently occupied by different couples.

The atmosphere was relaxing and enjoyable. The music was at just the right level, where you didn't have to yell to be heard, but wouldn't be able to hear a glass breaking on the other side of the room.

Stacey latched onto Ranelle's hand and started leading her over to the middle of the bar and the table directly in front of that section. Ranelle recognized Brock right away, followed by Carly who was seated at the bar with Amanda. Another woman Ranelle didn't recognize was sitting with Brock, and it was clear by the unease in their posture that they didn't know each other. Finally, a tall male figure was conversing with Amanda.

As they approached, Ranelle plopped down next to Brock, who gave Ranelle a relieved smile. Turning her attention to the short -- shorter than her, Ranelle was pleased to note -- woman at the table, her sunny disposition took over. "Hi, I'm Ranelle." Ranelle extended her hand and the woman returned it with a timid clasp.

"Joanna. Hi, it's nice to meet you."

"Same here. Who did you get dragged with?" Ranelle's smile took away any of the insult that the words could have obtained.

"Carly."

"Ah, well this is Brock," Ranelle gestured to her friend, "if you didn't already know."

Brock offered his hand and Joanna returned it with a timid smile as well. The two eventually got involved in a conversation, about what sounded to Ranelle like The Human Torch. Ranelle gave a mental shrug. 'As long as they have some common ground.'

Amanda's voice soon broke into Ranelle's thoughts as she realized Brock and Joanna had moved to the bar and Carly and her cousin, the man from the bar, had migrated to the table. "Ranelle, you remember Carly."

"Of course." Ranelle smiled. "It's good to see you again, Carly."

"Same here Ranelle. This is my cousin, Arnold." The man in question extended his hand and smiled pleasantly at Ranelle. He stood just under six feet, with a dark complexion, and interesting eyes that seemed to change from a dark brown to an almost coal black. He seemed nice enough to Ranelle and wasn't that bad looking.... for a guy.

"I heard you were having programming problems. Want me to take a look?" Carly interjected, causing Ranelle to break off from her assessment of Arnold, a habit of hers that emerged the first time she met someone new.

Ranelle sighed and pulled out her laptop. 'What was that I said about common ground?'

Carly settled in next to Ranelle and she started giving her new consultant the run-down on her program. Carly nodded her head, but Ranelle got the distinct impression that she wasn't really hearing a word that was coming out of her mouth. Finally, Ranelle pointed out the line that was giving her problems and a debate immediately broke out between the two.

Stacey and Amanda watched from the bar as Brock and Joanna warmed up to each other. Carly's cousin had wandered onto the dance floor, in search of more interesting company. The women turned their heads and smiled at one another, followed by a high-five. Next, they turned their eyes to the table in front of the bar.

The matchmakers, however, mistook Ranelle and Carly's bent heads as two people getting along. When they were really pointing at the screen and arguing about the troublesome line of code. The bent heads were only there to try and keep the argument private, even though there wasn't anything private about it.

**************

A tall body eased through the door of the club, the normally erect and proud body slightly hunched because of the cane grasped in the newcomers left hand.

Attentive eyes looked around the room at the different patrons, assessing. Finally, they lit upon the sight of a woman bent over a laptop in an argument with another woman.

The head tilted as the two arguers were studied and analyzed from afar, just like most of the newcomers life had been spent. From a distance. Present in the world but removed from it as well.

Interest piqued, the large body moved easily forward.

**************

Ranelle rubbed her eyes as she listened to yet another of Carly's reasons for trying her explanation, when Ranelle knew that it would never work. In fact, it would probably increase the problem tenfold. "Carly, that won't work! It'll just make the entire thing crash and go bonkers."

"Ranelle, I'm telling you, it'll work!"

"Actually," a low voice broke into the conversation from behind, "she's right. That'll just make the thing crash."

The heads of the seated women whipped around to look up, and up, and still up, into the face of a stranger. Ranelle stared as she took in the cool indigo blue eyes and raven colored hair that was falling just passed the shoulders of the speaker. The tall woman had a half-grin, as she looked back at the arguing duo.

Carly was the first to recover from her dazed shock. "Who the hell are you?"

Ranelle blinked, blinked again, and then stood and faced the woman. She extended a hand which the stranger grasped, reflexively. "Hi, are you sure about that line of code."

"Oh yeah, your solution is really close, just not quite right. I could show you, if you want." The voice was low and deep, with an obvious accent, however the origin of that accent Ranelle couldn't decide. It didn't have the distinct ring of being Irish, English, Australian, Scottish, or any of the other common types she was used to hearing.

"Sure." The tall woman moved around to the chair beside Ranelle that wasn't occupied by Carly. As she maneuvered herself into position, Ranelle noticed a cane in her left hand that was assisting the stranger. After she seated herself, the woman turned the computer slightly more towards her and started explaining what Ranelle needed to do to fix the code.

Stacey would have nudged Amanda and pointed to the tall newcomer asking, "Who's that?" except she had slipped off to the bathroom moments before.

So she turned her attention to the activity at the table and watched with avid, interested, eyes.

"And that's all you had wrong," the stranger finished her explanation and leaned back in her chair. Carly had left in a huff not long after the two had gotten involved in their conversation. "I'm sorry if I interrupted you with, um.....that," she gestured vaguely toward where Carly had been seated.

"Huh? Oh, no, no. Don't worry about it. She was here for more than computer help, which is all I wanted. I'm Ranelle, by the way. I don't usually sit down with strangers but you offered..."

The woman waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "That's fine. I know. I'm Dean."

Ranelle nodded and then her head stopped moving for an entire five seconds. Then, green eyes whipped around toward blue and widened. Ranelle's mouth dropped slightly and she stared. "Um...a...you don't...I mean....I thought...oh boy. Dean....as in Dean Ransom? Commander Dean Ransom of the United States Navy? That Dean Ransom?"

Dean nodded and smiled. "Yes, I'm all that. I got your message on my machine, and well, here I am."

"I figured. Wait a minute, you're a woman!"

A full smile broke out across her face at this comment. "Yes, I am, indeed."

Realizing what she had said, Ranelle quickly supplied, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"Hey, it's okay. Calm down. I'm sort of used to it by now."

Ranelle nodded. "Yeah, I guess you would be. Listen, it's kinda late, but I'd love to talk to you about, well, everything. But I don't want to do it here. Can we meet tomorrow? You just cleared up any work I needed to finish by fixing that dumb code for me."

"Sure, where and when. Whatever is convenient for you."

Ranelle thought for a moment. "Okay, have you ever heard of a cafe named Hego's?"

"You're kidding, right? I love that place, haven't been for awhile, though. What time?"

"Umm, 8:30?"

"Great, I'll see you tomorrow, then." Dean rose and grabbed her cane again. She walked out of the club, oblivious to the curious and interested stares she was the recipient of.

Stacey descended upon her friend the second Dean left. "Alright, who was that?"

Ranelle turned smiling eyes upon her friend, a huge grin splitting her face. "That, Stace, was fairy tale Commander, Dean Ransom."

Stacey's jaw dropped as her eyes turned to the space the Naval officer had just vacated.

*****************

The next morning started off mildly hot and humid even though they were now almost through the month of November. The only real sign of winter's approach was the earlier setting sun. Ranelle was able to drag herself out of bed by 8 am with a surprisingly small amount of groaning and complaining, and by 8:15 she was in her normal good mood as she walked out the door.

The short stroll to Hego's brought Ranelle to the door of the cafe just after 8:30. The researcher entered and did a quick scan of the cafe. When she didn't see Dean, Ranelle moved further into the building and started scanning the tables again. "She's over in the corner there." The familiar voice caused Ranelle to jump and spin around.

"Jesus, Stacey. You scared me. I hate when you sneak up on me!"

"I wasn't sneaking!"

"If I don't hear you then you're sneaking! Now, you said Dean was in the corner?" Stacey nodded and Ranelle nodded her thanks. She moved off toward the table her friend had indicated, and sure enough Dean was seated there.

As Ranelle moved closer to the table Dean stood and pulled out the chair beside her. She took the opportunity to study the officer and noticed that she was dressed very similar to the night before. Worn and comfortable blue jeans, a light colored tight T-shirt that showed off tight muscle in Dean's lanky frame. Brown, worn, work boots adorned her feet, and Ranelle wondered how her feet could possibly not cook in them. A pair of mirrored wrap-around sunglasses sat on the table, and Ranelle noticed a brown leather jacket thrown over her chair. Ranlle smiled and moved over to the offered piece of furniture. Just as she was about to sit, Ranelle stopped and looked up at Dean. The tall woman returned the look with a raised eyebrow and smirk. "What?"

"Man, you're tall! I didn't realize that the other night." Ranelle shook her head and sat, idly noting that her companion reached a height of what must of been at least 6' 5". Dean followed her lead and retook her seat. Just as the women were about to break the silence a perky voice interrupted them.

"So, Ranelle, what can I get for 'ya?" Ranelle looked up at her smiling friend and scowled.

"Do you have to ask Stace? I'm in here almost everyday!"

"Yeah, but that's for lunch or coffee or something. This," the waitress waved her arm in a motion meant to include the cafe and its occupants, "is breakfast time. And I don't recall ever taking your breakfast order. So, what do you want?" Stacey finished with a cheeky smile, as she poised her pencil over her pad of paper.

Ranelle heaved a sigh and peaked at her breakfast companion. Dean was looking down at the table like it held the secrets to life with a colossal grin creasing her face. "Just gimme some coffee and, um, something edible that's warm. Okay?"

"Gotcha!" Stacey bustled away leaving them once again alone.

Dean was the first to speak. "You know, if you aren't a morning person we could have met in the afternoon. That's why I told you to pick. It didn't really matter to me." Blue eyes looked up at Ranelle and she felt herself compelled to explain.

"Well, I never expected you to actually show up at the club when I left that message. I figured that after you listened to it and heard who I was and why I was calling that I would never meet you. Plus, you just got out of the hospital awhile ago and..."

Dean held up her hand. "Whoa, why would you think I wouldn't want to talk to you?"

Ranelle looked up with annoyed eyes. "Seems to me that I've been getting the run around from a lot of people over the phone. This was supposed to be a 'everyone will tell you exactly what you want to know, as long as it doesn't jeopardize national security' assignment. It hasn't exactly been like that, and I guess I just started assuming..."

"Ranelle." The sound of her name spoken in a cold, hard tone, brought her rambling to an immediate stop and her green eyes latched onto blue. "One thing you have to understand right now. I lost a lot of good men over there, friends. And this situation has had nothing but bad publicity ever since it happened. People have been blaming us, and if there is one thing that I won't let happen it's the blame for this being put on those soldiers. They were good men. I'm here to tell you what happened, how it happened, and make sure you get the full story. That's it." Dean's voice was choked with emotion, and Ranelle believed that with this woman's help, she would indeed get the entire story.

Ranelle nodded. "Right. Sorry."

Dean's dark head nodded as well, and the two concentrated on their newly delivered food and coffee as the tension eased. Finally, Ranelle deemed it safe to start talking again and decided that getting right to the point of their meeting would be best. "So, where would you like to start?"

"Uh, oh, yeah, sorry. Well...um...jeez." Dean closed her eyes, sighed, and shook her head. "Okay, what I'm trying to say is that this entire thing is really not that easy to talk about. Like you said, I just got out of the hospital and it seems like this whole thing just...happened. So, if you want....everyhting that happened, it isn't going to be one of those sit down for two hours and spill your guts type of interview." Dean looked over at Ranelle and she felt a pang in her heart seeing a brief flicker of hidden horrors behind those blue eyes. "It'll take awhile for you to get everything that you're going to need. And I'm not gonna be able to sit down and go through days of events at once. I'm also assuming that you want specifics, not just what happened there, but why we were there, why what happened, happened, and what I think might have gone wrong for it to happen." Dean gave Ranelle a questioning look and she nodded. "Okay, well telling you all that information is going to take awhile, too. I hope you can live with that?"

Staring into Dean's eyes, Ranelle almost missed the rest of the officer's explanation and question. Blinking, Ranelle focused on her surroundings again and smiled. "No problem. I'll wait for as long as you need."

Dean nodded her head in something close to relief. "I'm not sure where to start."

Ranelle turned her eyes upon the strong profile and noticed a not quite healed scar that started just above Dean's right eyebrow, curved down toward her temple, and continued back into the tall woman's hairline. "Okay, how about what you were in the hospital for. Since it's the most recent thing that happened."

"Sure." Dean closed her eyes for a moment before her low voice broke the quiet atmosphere at their little table. "As I'm sure you know I was just released about two weeks ago. I spent the first four and a half days at an American embassy hospital in critical and unstable condition. After that they airlifted me to a military hospital in New York, moving me before that would have killed me. Before going to New York, doctors had to fix my collapsed lung and perform surgery. I was bleeding internally, they say that they removed my spleen and something else was ruptured."

"Jesus."

The small exclamation was enough for Dean to pause in her story momentarily. Dean looked at Ranelle and smiled. "Sorry, I'm no doctor, and I don't remember much of this. This is just what they told me. Anyway, once I got back to the states they started treating me for chemical burns on my legs and back. That's what this is for." Dean hefted the cane in her left hand so that Ranelle could see it. Seeing that the young woman wanted to speak, Dean paused in her narrative and inclined her head.

"Your cane, well, I noticed that you limp a little. Is it permanent?"

"No, well, the scars are pretty nasty, at least I think they are. Most of them are on the back of my legs. I won't need the cane forever. My physical therapist predicts I'll be rid of it by the end of the month. He did say that I might retain a slight limp, but it would only be visible when I'm really tired, or to someone who knows me well. In addition to all that, seven broken ribs, compound fracture in my right leg, four broken fingers on my left hand, and a hell of a lot of little cuts and lacerations. Bullet through my right shoulder, it still aches sometimes. Pain in the ass. Oh, and a big nasty piece of shrapnel winged the side of my head." Dean's hand unconsciously went up and touched the long scar on her head. "That caused some problems. Swelling in the brain and stuff."

Dean stopped, leaving Ranelle to soak up all the information. She had a small tape recorder in her pocket that had been running since she sat down so she wouldn't have to write anything down. Dean turned toward the woman beside her and graced Ranelle with a half-smile. "That's about it."

Ranelle nodded and was about to ask a question when a beeping broke her concentration. Dean looked at her watch and sighed. Ranelle glance at the clock on the wall and noted with some shock that it was almost 10 am. Dean turned to Ranelle after silencing her watch. "Listen, I have an appointment. Here's my cell number," Dean handed Ranelle a card, "use it if you really have to get in touch with me. I'm usually gone in the morning and don't get back to the house until about 2. When do you want to pick this up?"

Dean started to stand as she spoke, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. She pulled out some money and threw it on the table, then turned to Ranelle for an answer.

"Tonight?"

Dean nodded, "Sure. When and where?"

"Uh, could you possibly swing by the magazine office around 6:30, otherwise I'll get caught up in something and forget." Ranelle hastily scrawled an address on one of the napkins and handed it to Dean.

"No problem." With that, Dean turned, grabbed her cane, and left the cafe. Ranelle watched the officer leave and then reached into her pocket to turn off the tape recorder. Adding some of her own money to the pile on the table, Ranelle headed out to the magazine office.

*****************

After leaving Hego's, Dean proceeded to her car and started driving to her appointment. After a twenty minute trip, Dean pulled into the parking lot of a large building. Above the doors, written in a dark purple, were the words RANSOM SECURITIES.

This was one of the companies many stores that took up residence throughout the US, Canada, places in Europe, Asia, and Australia. They sold computer systems and almost any electronic part you could imagine, carry out repairs on products, contain models showing the different types of security you could buy along with different web designs one might want to pay for. The large store was split into three sections. One for the computer systems and security and another for the design half of the company. The third section was a large back-room area, where computers were fixed and problems were analyzed.

This store happened to be the 'parent' store, so to speak. It was the largest outlet for Ransom products and services, and if your computer couldn't be fixed here then there's no hope for it.

Dean entered through the front and walked directly to the large desk at the right of the store. The man standing behind it looked up and his face broke into a smile as he saw who was walking toward him. "Dean! It's good to see you. How are you?"

"I'm doing all right Scott. I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to ask me to come over here, then I got your message the other day. So, what's up?"

"Ah, yes. Come here, come here. There was a very disgruntled lady in here two mornings ago raving and ranting about her computer and the," Scott raised his hands and made quotation marks in the air, "'very important, crucial, data.' That was stuck on this 'godforsaken, evil, machine that is the demon spawn of this century.'" Scott lowered his hands and stopped making quotation marks. "Basically she said that if WE didn't fix it by the time she came back tonight she'd tell everyone what horrible customer service we have, and that our products are second rate. Blah, blah, blah." Scott looked up at his employer and saw the slight twinkle in her eye, testament to her amusement. "So, I looked at it, Richard looked at it, even whiz-kid Johnny looked at the damn thing. We don't know what's wrong."

Dean shook her head and sighed. "Tell me, Scott, what I pay you people for if you can't fix a computer?"

Scott looked up at his lifelong friend with wide eyes, as if saying 'how could you forget why you pay us?' "Why, Dean, it's very simple. If you didn't have us you also wouldn't have any customers. Face it, you big, bad, Naval officer - when it comes to customer relations, you suck."

Dean smiled, a real, full smile, and slapped Scott and the back. "I missed you, Scotty."

The clerk's humor vanished, replaced by seriousness. "I missed you too, Dean. I'm glad you made it out of there," his voice started choking up, "and that you're okay."

Dean nodded and then turned to the back room and troublesome computer. Not accustomed to dealing with such strong emotions, Dean thought it best to leave before she broke down completely. Deciding to bury herself in something she could do in her sleep, the officer sat down at the counter in the back and started fixing the complex electronic device.

********************

Knock, knock.

"Dean, hey, are you still alive in there?"

Knock.

"Come on Dean, open up. It's almost closing time and Mrs. Dogertie is here demanding to know if her computer is fixed." Just as Scott raised his arm to knock again the wooden panel flew open. Scott entered and his jaw dropped.

Not only had Dean fixed Mrs. Dogertie's computer, but the other two computers and a myriad of other devices that had previously been stubborn in wanting to remain in their faulty state. They were all fixed, it seemed. And the room was...clean. The counter's that lined all the walls of the room had previously been covered in different tools, parts, and devices.

Wow.

Dean had, in less than eight hours, cleared up all the work that had been hanging over all the repairmen's heads for several days. And she had cleaned the disastrous room that Scott often wondered how anyone, including himself, could work in.

His employer was still sitting on a stool at the counter in the middle of the room, staring at the opposite wall. Heaving a sigh, blue eyes finally turned toward Scott, as Dean seemed to notice his presence. Dean stood, grabbed her cane, and moved over to her friend. "Tell Mrs. Dogertie that her computer has returned to the land of the living. I have to go meet up with a reporter. See you later Scott."

Scott quickly turned his blonde, almost white, head to look at Dean. "Wait, I really want to talk to you Dean. I know how you get caught up in things and that if I don't make plans now I won't see you for a week. So, when can we get together?"

The tall woman made a low humming sound in her throat as she thought for a moment. "It's Saturday, right?" Scott nodded. "Okay, um, swing by my place Sunday morning around 10."

"Sure. See you then." Dean nodded and turned to leave the large store. Scott moved to the door and kept his eyes glued to her back until she was out of view. Scott's thoughts ran along the lines of how lucky Dean was to still be alive, and for everyone who knew her to have her back in their lives.

******************

Pulling into the parking lot of the building that housed her uncle's magazine, Ranelle noticed that only a few cars filled the spots. Then she remembered that it was Saturday and most normal people were at home living their lives.

Not Ranelle.

She had a feeling that she was going to need to take every spare moment to keep all the information Dean supplied her with recorded and in order. Ranelle had a feeling that getting this story was going to be difficult. Not because of Dean's unwillingness to give it, not at all. Just that it was a traumatic event and as Dean herself said, the Middle East tragedy would be divulged in short segments.

However, even that knowledge was not what was creating these feelings in the young researcher. Ranelle had noticed a slightly unpleasant gnawing sensation in her stomach ever since the phone calls to the Navy brass. It had been steadily growing the past few days.

Now, a strong feeling of danger accompanied this story and seemed to hang in the air. 'Come on Ranelle, get a grip.' She chastised herself. 'You just have a bad case of an overactive imagination. You can start getting paranoid if something happens'.

Ranelle shook off her disturbing thoughts and proceeded to the secure entrance of the building. She greeted Tony, the security guard, just inside the door, not sensing the malevolent eyes firmly attached to her back.

When she arrived in her office, Ranelle started entering into the computer what Dean had told her. This way, she could tape over their last conversation and not have to go through a bunch of audio tapes while collecting the story.

Emersing herself in her work, Ranelle hardly noticed as the hours started ticking by.

****************

Pulling her SUV into the almost deserted parking lot with darkness almost totally set in, Dean jumped out of the high vehicle and grabbed her cumbersome cane. 'I'll sure as hell be glad when I'm rid of this stupid thing. Thank God the therapist says we can scrap it after this month. Oh, this month ends in a week. Goody!'

Dean grinned at her realization as she headed to the three steps up to the office. As she entered, Dean was greeted by a slightly balding man in a security outfit who was preparing to leave. He gave her a questioning look and just as Dean was about to reply a welcome voice broke in. "Don't worry Tony, she's here for me. Have a nice night."

The security guard grumbled and left the building, trusting Ranelle to lock it up as the young woman often did. Ranelle turned to Dean and smiled. "Hey, just give me a minute." Dean nodded and watched as Ranelle pulled a set of keys out of her bag and checked the three doors in the main lobby. Coming back to Dean, Ranelle nodded and motioned to the exit, signaling that she was ready to leave.

The duo moved outside as Ranelle stopped to lock the door and check it once before she tucked her key back into her pocket. "So," Ranelle started as they moved farther into the parking lot, "where are we going and are we going to take two cars or one?"

"Well, I was think..." Dean's voice was cut off as Ranelle was roughly shoved into the taller woman, causing Dean to hit her back on a parked car. Slightly stunned, Dean looked up in time to see the outline of someone grab Ranelle. The Naval officers mind registered a glint in the person's hand as she stood up.

Ranelle felt something push her and then she felt herself fall into Dean. Before she could process what was happening she felt herself pulled up to a standing position again. Seeing the glint of a weapon, Ranelle started to panic. Just before she could react in any way, the grip on her arm and around her waist was removed and Ranelle found herself headed to the ground again, the slight clatter of a weapon hitting the ground registering in her mind before her head impacted a parked car. Landing, she shook her head to try and get rid of the buzzing sound in her ears and turned in time to see Dean twisting the attacker's arm up behind him. Cursing reached Ranelle's ears as she watched the scene playing out before her.

Dean had just reacted, grabbing the person's arms and causing the attacker to release his hold on Ranelle. Dean grimaced as the attacker swung an elbow back and landed a solid blow on her stomach. Before the assailant could strike again, Dean powered them both around so they were facing the opposite end of the parking lot with a solid line of three cars in front of them.

Feeling her hold slipping, Dean swung her leg around and in front of the person in her grasp to try and trip the attacker. The weapon wielding person was able to compensate, however, by jumping slightly. Now with a better hold on Dean's arm, the attacker managed to reverse their positions so the officer was now in front and slammed her painfully onto the hood of Ranelle's car, stomach first.

Dean heard a low chuckle from above her and growled low in her throat. Grabbing the gloved hand by her face, Dean twisted and heard the cracking of bones. Smiling, Dean flipped around and tried to stand, but found herself shoved back to the hood of her car. On her back, now, Dean was able to see better, but the attacker raised the stakes as a broken bottle from the ground came into view.

Not knowing how the person in black had managed to pick it up, but seeing that it was coming straight for her, Dean raised her long legs and bent them as much as she could. Getting her feet a solid grip on the attacker's waist, Dean pushed out just as the bottle started its descent.

Ranelle had stood and watched closely as the two people moved around the parking lot. Not quite catching their quick movements, Ranelle was unable to determine how Dean had ended up on the hood of her car. Seeing the bottle as the person leaning over Dean raised it, Ranelle looked around for something she could use as a weapon. Just as the young woman spotted a rock, Ranelle saw a body fly past her, heard a painful grunt, and the breaking of glass.

As she turned, Ranelle saw the assailant scurrying into the night after picking themselves up from where he had landed. Her urge to run after the person all but disappeared as Ranelle turned again and saw Dean's distinctive form sitting on the ground. Fearing the worst, Ranelle ran toward the officer and dropped down next to her. Dean's eyes were closed and her breathing was ragged. "Dean, you okay?" Blue eyes slowly opened and tracked to concerned green. A small smile greeted her before Dean spoke.

"No...yes...sorta."

"Huh. What's wrong, why are you breathing so heavily?"

"I had to...kick that guy away from me. Or...he woulda....probably..killed me." Dean stopped and sucked in a large breath and closed her eyes briefly. "It was killer on my legs."

"Oh." Seeing the confused look, Dean opted to explain.

"They won't be up to a hundred percent for a long while yet. And shoving away a 200 pound person is the last task that they were up to at the moment."

"Buh...I thought..."

"Ranelle, walking on them is one thing. I still have a heck of a time if I need to go up a lot of steps many times a day. There was lots of muscle damage. Anyway, give me a hand up so we can get out of here." Still worried about Dean, but agreeing that getting her up off the ground would be a step in the right direction, Ranelle stood and offered Dean her hand.

Once she was standing, Dean sucked in a pained breath and closed her eyes again. Ranelle looked at her friend, her brows furrowing as she noticed a darker spot on Dean's light shirt. "Shit, Dean. You're bleeding!"

"Huh." Dean looked down and noticed the blood at the top of her left shoulder. Frowing, the Naval officer touched the area and felt nothing. Dean then lifted her arm and twisted to the right, wincing. "Yeah, looks like that idiot cut my back." She raised her eyes to the shorter woman and squinted slightly before replying, "So are you."

"Huh?"

"Bleeding." Dean raised a large hand to a small gash above the end of her left eyebrow.

"Oh, well, don't worry about it. I didn't even know it was there. Come on, you need to get that looked at."

Dean shook her head. "No, come on, we'll go to my place and you can bandage it up, and I'll take care of you. But I'm not going to a hospital."

Ranelle sighed, took one look at Dean's face, and realized that she wouldn't win this argument. "Fine, but I'm driving. We'll take my car." Dean shook her head. "Why?"

"Cause I don't wanna get blood in it. Here," Dean handed her keys to Ranelle.

Ranelle nodded, grabbed the jingling item, and walked to the SUV with Dean a step ahead. The taller woman paused momentarily, bent down, and retrieved the switchblade. Flipping it closed, she looked into Ranelle's eyes for a long moment before slipping the item into her pocket. They continued to the car.

****************

Following the directions as they were given to her, Ranelle was surprised to note that Dean indicated they had arrived at their destination after 10 minutes. Albeit, to Ranelle it looked as though they were in the middle of nowhere. Indicating a road that was almost hidden because of overgrowth, Dean mumbled something about turning down the little path and following it until Ranelle saw the house.

About halfway down the driveway, the sky opened up with an unexpected downpour of rain. 'Great, rain.' Were the thoughts of both occupants of the car. As she drove, Ranelle noticed that the driveway got wider and eventually became paved. It was lined with tall, majestic looking trees.

The headlights finally illuminated a large looking structure. The combination of darkness and rain, however, prevented Ranelle from getting a good look at the house. She pulled up as close to the front door as she could, idly noting that it was now 7 o'clock. Looking over at Dean, Ranelle decided that the woman didn't look too good. "Hey, you okay?"

Slowly, Dean's eyes tracked to hers and the dark head gave a slight nod. "Yeah, I'm...um..a...yeah, I'm good."

"Right. Come on, lets get inside." Ranelle exited the car and moved around to the passenger side. She kept a close eye on Dean, finally wrapping an arm around her waist when they reached the four steps up to the door.

After unlocking the wooden portal, Dean paused and flicked the light switch. Nothing happened. Dean groaned. "Great, power's out." Looking around, the tall Naval officer made a decision. "Listen, why don't you go grab my first aid kit. It's in the kitchen," Dean pointed off to their right, "under the sink. I'm gonna grab some different clothes for both of us since they're wet. I'll meet you in the there." Dean pointed to another room off to their left. Ranelle nodded and watched briefly as Dean headed down the hallway in front of them.

The young researcher turned and headed to the kitchen. After stumbling along in the cupboards, Ranelle yanked open a drawer and found a flashlight. She smiled. Flicking it on, Ranelle located the sink and the cupboard underneath it. Grabbing the first aid kit, Ranelle headed back into the living room, where there was a slight glow being emitted.

Entering the room, Ranelle saw Dean sitting on the couch in a pair of sweat pants and a Dallas Stars hockey jersey with some more clothes sitting on her lap. Dean was holding a piece of cloth to the cut to stop the flow of blood and keep her shirt clean.

Candles around the room had been lit, providing plenty of light. Seeing Ranelle enter, Dean looked up and threw some clothes at her. "They'll be big, but they're dry."

Ranelle caught the garments and smiled her thanks. Migrating into a darker part of the house, Ranelle quickly pulled on the shorts that hung well past her knees-- almost down to her ankles, actually-- and a large gray sweater that she had to roll the sleeves up on six times.

Coming back into the living room, Ranelle retrieved the kit and walked over to the couch. "Okay, lay down on your stomach and take your shirt off, please."

Dean nodded and moved into the requested position. Ranelle kneeled down next to the long back and opened the kit. She took a closer look at the cut and saw that it was pretty superficial. Sighing in relief, Ranelle started cleaning and bandaging it. "It isn't that bad, really, more of a flesh wound than anything else." Dean grunted her acknowledgment.

While taping on a piece of gauze, Ranelle let her eyes wander along Dean's back. She took in the scars, the majority of them the chemical burns that Dean had mentioned, concentrated mostly on the left side of her lower and middle back. Ranelle winced in sympathy. Then she noticed a scar on her right shoulder that she figured was the bullet wound Dean had spoken of. She figured there would be a similar scar on the front of Dean's shoulder, too.

As she finished smoothing the tape over Dean's skin, Ranelle moved her hands back, almost dropping the roll of tape in her hands. Catching it just above Dean's back, her hand grazed a patch of twisted, angry looking skin. Dean flinched immediately. "I'm sorry," Ranelle was quick to say after seeing the officer move. "Do they hurt?"

"Not really, not anymore. I just haven't....no one's ever...I mean I don't like.." Dean trailed off helplessly.

"Hey," Ranelle gently put her hand on Dean's shoulder, careful to avoid any scars or the newly dressed wound, "it's okay. You can get up now." Ranelle turned and started putting things back in the first aid kit as Dean sat and pulled on her jersey once again.

Turning back, Ranelle looked at Dean at a loss of what to say. "You a fan?" Ranelle indicated the jersey. Dean nodded. "You?" Ranelle nodded.

"Lemme take care of that." Dean gestured to the cut on Ranelle's forehead. She simply nodded. After cleaning the cut off Dean closed up the kit and they sat staring at each other for several moments. Ranelle finally spoke what had been on her mind since getting into the house.

"I think it would be a good idea if I stayed here tonight. With the rain... and no power, I'd probably get lost if I left myself, and you really shouldn't be driving...with your legs and...everything.." The words came out in a rush, and Ranelle shyly looked up at Dean. Expecting an argument or at least a slight protest, Ranelle was shocked to hear Dean utter a quiet 'sure'.

Looking back down at the floor between them, Ranelle remembered Dean sitting in the parking lot, panting. "How are your legs?"

Dean shrugged. "We'll find out in the morning. But, I really should walk on them a bit. Keep them from getting too stiff."

"Probably." Ranelle stood and offered Dean a hand up. She took it and the two women just stood there for a moment looking at each other. Realizing that they were staring, they both shook their heads at the same time and smiled.

"You hungry? I don't think I have very much, but I imagine we could find something."

"A little."

"Come on, then." Dean led the way into the kitchen with Ranelle following and watching closely to be sure the officer didn't stumble. The young woman grabbed the flashlight as an after thought and then continued across the hall. When she got into the kitchen, Dean was perched on one of the stools that lined the outer side of the counter. "I'm not sure what I have, take a look."

Ranelle walked over to the fridge, turned on the flashlight and opened the door. Looking into the appliance, Ranelle started to speak, "Dean, you have milk, orange juice, ketchup, mustard, butter, three eggs, and some kind of meat."

"Meat? Really?"

"Yeah."

"Is it any good?"

"Um," Ranelle took the meat out of the fridge and opened the package, "yeah, and it's ham."

"Cool." Ranelle shook her head and then opened the freezer.

"Let's see, ice cream, frozen corn, lots of frozen OJ, and um...Dean?"

"Hmmm." Ranelle grabbed something out of the fridge, slid it across the counter and then shone the light on it.

"What's that?"

Dean looked down at the package, her brow furrowing. She picked it up and started examining it. "Um, I really don't know."

"Okaayyy. Why don't we," Ranelle moved forward and took the package out of Dean's hands, "just put it back in here." She placed the mystery food into the freezer and closed the door. "That should be safe."

A low chuckle came from across the room and Ranelle smiled, glad to see that Dean was doing all right. "So, you have butter, but do you have anything to butter?"

"I think so, look in that cupboard there." Ranelle opened the indicated cupboard and continued cataloging Dean's food.

"Seven slices of bread, three bagels." Turning, she looked at the Navy officer incredulously, "You actually live off this." Ranelle waved her hands, indicating the things in the kitchen.

"Pretty much. I have some cereal floating around somewhere, too. You could take the meat and make a sandwich, I'll just eat a bagel."

Ranelle nodded and pulled the bread and a bagel out of the cupboard. Going back to the fridge, the butter, meat, mustard and a knife joined the bread. After assembling the sandwich, Ranelle looked up into blue eyes. "Something's missing. You wouldn't happen to have any tomato or lettuce would you?"

Thinking for a second, Dean nodded. "Open the bottom right drawer of the fridge. There should be a clear plastic bag in there."

After she retrieved the bag and got a good look at the contents, Ranelle raised her eyebrows at Dean and waited for an explanation. Shrugging, the officer started speaking, "Maria seems to think that I have bad eating habits.."

Snorting, Ranelle interjected, "That's an understatement."

"Ahem. Anyway, she's always trying to stuff those 'healthy' foods down my throat for as long as I can remember. Go ahead, she dropped it off the other day."

Tearing open the bag of salad, the researcher added several slices of tomato and some leaves of lettuce. Smiling in satisfaction, Ranelle completed the sandwich and then grabbed a plate. Dean grabbed her bagel and motioned for them to go back to the living room where there was light. "Who's Maria?"

"Well, she started off as a friend of my sister, and then we sorta bonded a little one summer. The three of us have all been good friends since, despite the age difference. Besides her and Scott, I don't have that many 'good' friends."

"Scott?"

"I've known him since I was a kid. He works at one of our stores as the manager. And a damn good one!" They sat down on the couch, side-by-side and continued the conversation.

"Oh, okay. Do you get along well with your siblings?" Dean's hesitation caused Ranelle to quickly look up and retract the question. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about this. I know I'm prying, but it is sort of what I do. However, it has no bearing on what happened in the Middle East so..."

"No, it's fine. I just realized that I haven't seen any of them since I got back."

"You mean since you got out of the hospital?"

"No, since I got back to the states. Maria came and saw me a few times with my sister, Rachel, but besides that..."

"Oh, Dean. I'm so sorry."

"For what? You're not the one who didn't show up. Anyway, to answer your question, I probably get along the best with Rachel. My older brother, Slyvester and I, we never could spend more than five minutes with each other without getting into an argument. The last time we spoke he said he never wanted to see me again. That was about eight, no nine, years ago. Then there's David," a large smile spread across Dean's face, "he's my younger brother. We always spent as much time as we could with each other as kids. My parents say that he practically worshiped the ground I walked on."

"So, if you got along so well how come he never came and visited."

The smile faded and Dean lowered her head, "I don't know what happened. He just stopped talking to me, quit returning phone calls, eventually I just stopped trying to reach him. That happened a few years ago, too." Dean shrugged, dismissing the situation and her feelings. "So, when I was finally allowed to have visitors I called Rachel and asked her to contact Maria. They were the only people who I knew would come besides Scott. I did try my parents but nothing happened there."

"You're not on good terms with them?"

"I'd....a...I....I'd rather not talk about them."

Puzzled, Ranelle nodded and replied, "Fine, your call." Her voice clearly communicated her confusion.

Ranelle closed her eyes, imagining what that must of been like. To have seen a mission go bad and almost all of your men die. Then to come back to the states critically injured, knowing that when you were finally able to see your family, out of five people related to you by blood only one would show up. 'That must have hurt', Ranelle thought.

"What about you?" The low voice jolted Ranelle out of her thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Well, you're gonna hear all this stuff about me, I'd kinda like to know a little bit about you."

Ranelle sniffled, took a bite of her sandwich, and then spoke. "Not much to tell, really. I had a big falling out with my family almost two years ago and moved to Dallas. I'm finishing off school to get a job in the design or security computer field. I have a sister and brother, one younger the other older. They still talk to me, it's my parents that don't." Ranelle shrugged. "My uncle and cousin live here and I'm probably closer to Uncle Amark than I was to either of my parents."

Ranelle looked up at Dean to see that she had a captive audience. And couldn't understand why. "I'm really boring, not much to tell like I said. You, however, are much more interesting."

Dean shook her head. "Nah, I'm not worth talking about."

"Really? Tell me, Dean, where were you born?"

Scrunching her eyebrows together and looking confused, Dean answered, "Um, Florence."

"Florence, Italy?"

Dean nodded. Ranelle smiled. "See, already you're more interesting than me. Italian, cool. What about your accent, it doesn't sound pure Italian."

Dean unscrunched her eyebrows and blinked a few times. "That's because it isn't. My dad is Italian with the tiniest bit of Greek in him. And my mother is pure Russian."

Ranelle sat there staring at Dean for a moment before blowing out a big breath. "You've gotta be kidding!?"

Dean shook her dark head.

"Wow, what a mix!"

A nod.

"See, you are a lot more interesting than me."

A shrug.

"How long can you go without saying anything?!"

A grin.

Ranelle sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"What about you?"

Ranelle looked up, "Me?"

"Yeah, you don't sound like a native Texan." Dean affected the Texas accent which added to her own natural one, created a very strange result. Ranelle covered her mouth and laughed a moment before collecting herself.

"Sorry, you just sounded funny."

"I bet."

"Ahem.. I'm originally from Everette, Washington."

"Why'd ya leave?"

"Well, my parents and I had different ideas about my future. Don't get me wrong, they loved me to death... I can't imagine a more loving couple, but they saw things one way and I saw it the other. Despite how much they loved me they were kinda aloof and we don't talk all that much, like I said before. When I moved we just sorta drifted further apart... it's not really because there is any animosity just as a kid, I never felt like I had anything worthwhile to say to them. I imagine it would be different now, if we got together in the same room." Ranelle shrugged. "They still supported me in what I wanted to do but I could tell they were still disappointed and it just got to me eventually. Plus, some things were happening with me and a few other people which was indirectly causing them a lot of grief..... So I left, figured it'd be best for all of us."

Dean processed this for a moment and asked, "What did they want you to do?"

"Go into the family business.. It's kinda akin to joining the Navy in your family, I guess."

"And that business would be??"

"Oh, horse racing."

The dark haired woman's jaw dropped, "Excuse me?"

Ranelle pursed her lips for a moment before answering, "Uh... I don't mean that the way it sounded. Not gambling or anything... they race horses... Standardbred and thoroughbred. They're really successful at it, I just don't have any interest. I mean, I grew up around it sure, and I have an appreciation for all the work that goes into getting a horse ready to race and actually winning.. but I just...." She paused, not sure what she wanted to say.

"You wouldn't be happy doing that for the rest of your working life."

"Yeah... I wanna love what I do and I do love computers and design."

The officers head nodded. "I know what you mean and you'll be glad ten years down the road that you stood up for what you wanted.. too many people let themselves fall into that trap and end up hating their lives."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"So you all still get along?"

"Oh, sure. We may not talk all the time but we send cards and stuff at the holidays and if I showed up on the doorstep they'd invite me in with open arms. I kinda gained another family with Uncle Amark...he's like a second father and I think my parents are glad that he's here for me when they're so far away. Everything worked out real well in the end, I think."

They sat in silence, finishing off their food for several minutes.

The comfortable silence was finally broken with Dean opening up the conversation again. "You know I've been thinking a lot about how you said, you thought people at the base were stonewalling you."

"And?" Ranelle sat up straighter, her interest piqued.

"Well, what kind of stuff did you request."

"Um, files on the operation in the Middle East and any pertaining to it, and your personnel file, along with one's for the other men who survived."

"Did you get it?"

"Which one. Yes and no. I was sent information on the operation but not the real file. I was told that the things in it were still highly sensitive. When I asked about your file, I couldn't even get someone to consider releasing it."

"Wait, you couldn't get anything on me?"

"Nothing."

"Not even the year I enlisted, or dates of promotions.....anything?"

"Nope, nothing. I received a few progress reports on you, but none of the operations you were involved in, places you were stationed at, no promotions or any personal information. Just the reports. If I hadn't gotten those I would have started to think that you didn't exist! "

"What about the other men's files?"

Hesitation.

"Ranelle?"

Ranelle looked up and nodded. "Yeah, I got 'em."

"That...well that's just weird. Why theirs and not mine?" It was rhetorical, and the researcher wisely kept her mouth shut. "Did you get clearance for the files?"

"Oh, yeah. I spent a hour and a half on the phone getting bumped up to all these different guys. I eventually was told by Admiral something that Admiral someone cleared me. And then I can't get a simple personnel file! That ticked me off."

"Ranelle," Dean turned serious eyes on the researcher, "you should have at least been given my common info. over the phone. I mean, age, date of birth, enlisting date and such." Dean shook her head. "They wouldn't have sent you my entire file, but you should have been told that if you went to the base that you would be given access to it. Somehting isn't right."

The women sat on the couch pondering the possibility that maybe something more was going on with this failed mission. "Someone is hiding something." Dean's voice was low, and it held an intense angry tone. Ranelle sucked in a breath on hearing it, picking up dangerous waves flowing from the officer. "We're going down there to look at all those files." It was a statement, strong and true.

"We?"

"Definitely, we. They won't give you any crap if I'm there, and if something is going on involving me and the ME mission, I wanna know about it."

Ranelle nodded. "Okay, when?"

Dean cocked her head. "Anytime next week, preferably on Wednesday. Hopefully we could be back by Friday."

"Why Wednesday?"

"Because Monday is always crazy, they never take you seriously on the weekend, and Wednesday is usually only mildly busy. Do you have anything you need to do?"

"Are you kidding?! This is the only thing my uncle wants me to even think about until I get it all figured out. He said and I quote 'Ranelle, this here is very important. It could help you and the magazine a lot. Besides school it's the only thing I want you to even think about.' Uncle Amark won't have a problem with me leaving town." Thinking for a moment, Ranelle scrunched her eyebrows up and then posed a question. "Um, Dean, where exactly do we have to go?"

"It's a base in San Diego, California. Why?"

"Just wondering."

There was a lull in the conversation, the figures sat in the dim light from a few candles scattered around the room. Each buried deep in their own thoughts. The storm still raged on outside, the angry rain thundering against the walls of the large house. Thunder would boom into the night and the window panes shook. "What do I need to do?" Ranelle's voice was so sudden that Dean would have jumped upon hearing it if she hadn't had as tight control over her body and it's reactions as she did.

"Nothing. Just make any arrangements, pack a bag, and meet me at the airport on Wednesday."

"Okay, that's" a yawn broke her speech momentarily, "fine."

"You tired? Come on, it's getting late." Dean stood, a little bit unsteadily and looked at her watch. She noted that it was quickly approaching midnight. Extending a hand, the Naval officer pulled up as it was accepted. "You can sleep up in the loft."

"Loft?"

"It's not what it sounds like." The smile was evident in Dean's voice. "This house doesn't really have an upstairs. Just a few staircases that take you to a tiny hallway with one or two doors, maybe one giant room." They stopped in the hallway that Dean had first ventured down when they had arrived. Dean pointed. Ranelle looked and saw a spiral staircase tucked behind the space created by the wall moving outwards for about a foot and then going back into a straight line. "First door on the right. I'd show you but if I made it up the stairs I wouldn't be coming back down."

"No problem."

"The bathroom is down this hallway, second on the right. My room is at the end. 'Kay?"

Ranelle nodded and moved over to the staircase, ascending it to fall exhausted into the soft bed provided.

Dean watched her go, then turned back around and shuffled into the living room. Extinguishing the candles, the officer turned again and proceeded blindly down the hall toward her room. Giving one last glance at the dark space she knew the staircase to be, Dean sighed and entered her room.

*****************

Opening her eyes, Ranelle experienced a brief moment of panic from not recognizing where she was. Then, the events of the last few days came to the forefront of her mind and Ranelle smiled upon remembering Dean.

Ranelle's forehead creased as she looked at her watch and noted that it was quarter to six. In the morning. Something had woken her up, that much Ranelle knew, because she never got up this early. At least not willingly.

Sitting up from her comfortable nest and looking out the window she noticed that the rain had stopped. Standing up, Ranelle paused in her trek to the door when she heard it.

A thumping noise... and.... cursing.

Very colorful, inventive cursing.

Fearing the reason that Dean would have for spewing such language so early in the morning, Ranelle went flying out the door, down the stairs, and skidding around the corner of the hallway. As she got nearer the door at the end of the hallway, Dean's voice became even more distinctive.

Not wanting to just barge in, Ranelle spoke, "Dean, you all right?"

"Ranelle?"

"Yes?"

"Could you come in here, please, and give me a hand?"

"Sure." Ranelle opened the door and walked into the room. "What happened?" Ranelle took three quick steps and kneeled down at Dean's side. The officer was sitting on the ground, about four steps from her bed and had a very annoyed, angry look on her face.

"What do you think? I fell." It came out harsher than she had intended, and Dean winced at seeing the hurt on Ranelle's face. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I just...everything was actually going well. With this." Dean gestured at her legs. "Nothing like this has happened since the first month of therapy in the hospital, and now I'm falling flat on my face."

"I'm sorry, I..."

"Hey, hey! This isn't your fault, don't you dare blame yourself Ranelle. Okay? Ranelle, look at me." The researcher reluctantly raised her eyes to lock onto a pool of deep, familiar, blue ones. "Okay?"

"Okay."

Dean smiled. Ranelle smiled. "Good, now, give me a hand up and we'll see how bad this really is."

Ranelle stood and helped Dean to get her feet underneath herself. She was a bit shaky, the muscles not wanting to support the weight put on them, but they held. Ranelle quickly grabbed the cane from the floor once she was sure Dean wouldn't fall over and placed it into the officer's left hand.

Taking a few tentative steps with Ranelle standing at her right should Dean falter, the duo made steady progress into the hallway. Half-way to the kitchen, Dean felt her legs start to shake a little and weaken. She instinctively moved over to the left and ended up leaning against the wall instead of on the floor. Ranelle had seen it happen and taken a gentle hold of Dean's arm. It wouldn't have done much good, since the young woman was sure that Dean's superior weight would have brought them both to the floor.

As she leaned against the wall, her eyes closed a look of resignation came over her face. Ranelle saw that, too. "Hey Dean, come on. Let's keep going, it isn't that bad. You're muscles are just stiff and strained. It'll be fine." Ranlle sighed as she noticed that her words hadn't seemed to get through. "Dean come on, you can't give up. You've been doing so well I won't let you stop trying now. Come on."

Ranelle pulled on the arm in her grasp and, to her great surprise, Dean straightened. Nodding her head slightly, the officer turned and looked down at Ranelle. She smiled her thanks and inclined her head toward the kitchen in silent communication. Ranelle nodded as well and they continued.

Getting themselves settled, Ranelle once again took up her exploration of the cupboards with light. After finding an appropriate amount of food, they sat. The thing called conversation soon reared its ugly head and broke the stillness of the room. "What do you think that guy in the parking lot wanted?"

Dean looked up from her bagel and took a moment to compose her thoughts. "Well, I don't think he was trying to rob you."

"Why?"

"Because even though he didn't have a whole lot of time uninterrupted, he did have enough to ask for money or try and grab your bag. Muggers get right to the point. He didn't even open his mouth. Besides, if it were you, would you have gone and robbed someone who was walking around with someone who looked like me?"

Ranelle stared at Dean for a moment, processing what had been said. "Uh, I guess not."

"Secondly, his knife was a switchblade."

"Yeah. So."

"Have you actually ever tried to do anything with one of those?"

"No."

"Well, that guy had it at your throat, and those are the worst things you could possibly choose to slit someone's throat with. Or even make the threat of doing that. They're only good for two things."

"Which are."

Dean looked up from her food. "Stabbing someone in the gut and cutting your own finger off." Ranelle flinched. Dean shrugged upon seeing her reaction. "Besides, the blade was really dull. I mean really dull. You wouldn't be able to stab that thing into a bale of hay to save your life."

"Oh. So?"

"He was probably trying to scare you away from something."

"Like what?"

Dean shrugged. "Could be anything, but then again what are you suddenly involved in that you weren't before. Besides this."

Ranelle sucked in a breath and exhaled loudly. "But why? Who? How do you know it wasn't random?"

"Again, his knife was too dull to do any really serious harm and would you have attacked if your target was walking with me? As to who, if someone in San Diego is running you in circles to keep something hidden, they had more than enough time to set something like this up."

"Someone in the Navy, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Dean, that's a.... a really scary thought."

"I guess it is, but whoever it is, is as dumb as they come."

"Why?" Ranelle looked warily at Dean, catching that same dangerous tone that had been present just last night.

"For going up against me." Dean looked over at Ranelle and looked into her eyes. Immediately, her growing anger subsided and lessened, still present but not quite as strong. Those eyes seemed to be able to calm and relax her, their depths ringing a familiar cord within Dean's being.

The two women fell silent and gradually moved into the living room, the trip being slightly less difficult for Dean than the one into the kitchen. And they found themselves doing what most new acquaintances, or old friends, often do to pass time. Talking about nothing, and yet, everything.

The women sat for hours discussing trivial things and not so trivial things. The weather, Ranelle's schooling, Dean's company, their plans for going to San Diego, and everything and anything in between.

Consequently, they found themselves relaxing around each other and releasing those little, silly, rather stupid facts and stories about themselves. The types of things that a passing colleague would never have cause to know. The kind of things that make someone a friend.

Eventually, the conversation found its way back to the reason for their initial meeting, as they both knew it would. "Tell me about the unit. Not what you guys were doing over there, but its history and stuff."

Dean shifted her eyes from the window in front of her and looked at Ranelle. Shifting her position so that she was sitting sideways on the couch, Ranelle did the same, and they found themselves facing each other. Dean nodded.

"Okay, well, the unit was formed in '94 by Admiral Jason Cooper. He went out and chose the men for the unit, strictly the best. Not in any particular field, either, everyone he chose had to be really good in at least three different things. It didn't matter, he just wanted to make sure that there was more than one person in the team that had a lot of knowledge about one subject."

Ranelle looked slightly confused, so the officer stopped for a moment and gathered her thoughts. "Think about it this way. If you have one expert with explosives and everyone else is, not totally dumb when it comes to using them, but slow and unsure, and your main objective is to blow something up... what are you gonna do if he's killed? Not a whole hell of a lot. You're SOL."

"Huh?"

"Shit-outta-luck."

"Oh."

Dean smiled. "Anyway, after he gathered up his big group of special men the brilliant Admiral Cooper realized that he didn't have anyone to lead his best of the best. So, he went and perused the personnel files and came up with me. Someone like myself who was really good at most everything they did in the Navy and learned quickly would be bounced all over the place and get experience in almost everything. I guess it was a realistic choice. Someone who could lead and the men wouldn't mind following. And someone who could pretty much do the job of any man in the unit. I've had control of the unit for its entire 6 years in operation. We have pretty much been on the constant move since then. Finish off one assignment, come back for maybe a few days rest, then get shipped off again."

"Wow, that sounds really busy. I don't know if I'd be able to live like that." The researcher had a mild look of disbelief on her face.

"You'd only think that if you didn't want to be doing it. We all wanted to live like that, joining the unit was our choice, as was staying in it. I don't regret it."

"Even after this?" Ranelle gestured down at Dean's legs and raised her eyes with a questioning look.

"Nope, not even after this. It's what I live for, Ranelle, and it's the only thing I've ever known. So no, not a single regret. Not for me. I do regret losing my men, and when things went bad out in the field. But that's it."

Ranelle nodded, not quite understanding how anyone could put their lives on the line daily for their job. Risk life and limb constantly for strangers and a country that would probably never acknowledge their bravery, courage, and dedication. She didn't expect that she would ever really understand, not totally, not if she spent the rest of her life trying to. She figured that it might come from a need to help people and a desire to know that you are doing something positive with your existence.

'Ok Ranelle, you can stop thinking right now. You're starting to get just a little bit too deep and it's still way too early for that.'

As the silence fell over them again Ranelle started looking around her and realized that she was sitting in a gorgeous house. They were currently in the living room, which housed a sofa, love seat, two comfy looking armchairs and an oak coffee table in the middle. They were sitting on the sofa which faced the wall on the front of the house. Which was taken up by a huge window that gave you a view of the driveway, lined by the large majestic trees of the night before. The sun shone through the canopy of trees and made interesting patterns on the ground, Ranelle could tell from where she was sitting. There was a large TV and complete entertainment center to their right, looking abandoned and unused. In the back of the large room, a lone door sat, closed at the moment.

Judging by the spaciousness of the kitchen and living room, with their vaulted ceilings and excess floor space, Ranelle decided that this was a rather large house. She figured that it made up for having no second floor by being exceptionally large on the main floor. The blatant disregard of not conserving space just helped to strengthen her assumption.

Dean noticed that her blonde companion had taken to looking around with wide, interested eyes, as most people did when they were new to the house. Still, she couldn't understand why, really, it was just a house. A space enclosed by walls and a roof. Dean hadn't been consumed with the awe that seemed to affect all her very few visitors, and it hadn't even been her house originally. It was now, she supposed, but the officer would never get used to thinking about it that way. It had been willed to her by her grandfather 10 years ago, a man she had hardly known, and she was just now living in it.

Dean had grown up with her father in the Navy, always moving around from place to place. She had never had a real, permanent home, and had decided that she would make the Navy her career since that had been all she knew. The life had appealed to her, getting sent all over the world, granted, to do things that most people wouldn't be able to handle, and not have much enjoyment, but settling had never been on Dean's list of things to do in life. And when she took her vacation time - well, her superior often had to force her to actually leave the base - but when she did, Dean had hardly ever gone to the place her family had told her was 'home'. With them. And once things had started unraveling on that front, it became one less thing to keep her from doing what she wanted. 'Home' became just a word with no real meaning to her. Wherever Dean was became her temporary home.

Getting on a bus and just going. The wanderers life. Living out of motels, traveling and seeing the one place her job had never taken her. Her own country. Being able to wake up one morning in California and deciding to go to Colorado or Oregon or Tenesse, just because she could. There was nothing holding her back, keeping her in one place when her time was her own.

So Dean came to the conclusion that the wonder people felt when looking at the house occurred from a lifetime of living in only one or two different buildings. Having friends with a home different than yours, and spending your childhood placing a lot of importance on the place that held you worldly possessions. Just because you spent a large portion of your life there, and the fact that it did hold everything that you had accumulated in that life so far, these buildings called houses gained more importance to most everyone.

Mentally shrugging, Dean decided that it didn't really matter, even if she could understand. "Go ahead and look around if you want." Dean's voice brought Ranelle out of her visual tour and centered her attention on the woman sitting on the couch. "Go," the officer gestured, "explore, make yourself at home. You'll probably be spending a lot of time here if you want the story. I'd take you but...."

Ranelle smiled, "You sure you don't mind?"

"Absolutely."

"Thanks!" Ranelle grinned brilliantly at the officer and started tentatively moving out into the main hallway. Dean just shook her head and settled into the couch to wait.

It instantly became obvious to Ranelle that while the house was magnificent, with hardwood floors, rich colored carpets, high ceilings, and furniture that Ranelle swore were antiques, it didn't look very lived in. Sure, from what she had seen of Dean's room, there was an odd photo or two, she figured of Rachel and David, and some clothes scattered around the bedroom-- although not a lot-- everything else seemed... empty.

So far she had come across a large dining room with a huge table that could probably sit 20 or so people, with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was a china cabinet along one end of the room that held delicate looking dishes of all shapes and sizes.

Two spare bedrooms that were well furnished but still bare looking. Ranelle had also noticed that the kitchen didn't looked very used and even the living room where she had left Dean sitting was devoid of any of the mess that people often made just by being there.

Walking down yet another hallway off the main one, Ranelle took in the paintings hanging from the walls of the wide hallway. Besides those and the occasional door, there was nothing else in the corridor. Approaching an open door, Ranelle peeked in and saw a workout room. It was one of the largest rooms in the house, and it was filled with weight machines, a stationary bike, treadmill, free weights, and other various machines.

Ducking out of the room, Ranelle continued down the hallway. She ended up at something resembling a 'T' intersection, with the choice to go right or left. Idly, Ranelle considered the very real possibility of getting lost. There seemed to be a lot of large rooms in the house, each with several doors in them that led to a series of hallways that connected everything together. Already, the researcher had no idea which doors she had gone through and in which room they had resided.

Smiling, Ranelle decided she would worry about getting back to the main part of the house later and promptly turned left where a stream of sunlight was coming from and lighting up the wooden floor, seeming to make it shine.

Ranelle followed the hallway as it turned to the right and gasped as she came upon large windows that were letting in the sun. Outside, there were a large clump of trees that seemed to reach high into the heavens, a large expanse of clear sky visible above them, and Ranelle imagined what it would look like at night. The stars would easily be seen over the treetops while the trees themselves would seem to reach up toward the twinkling objects, begging then to come down from their perch and play.

Shaking off her thoughts, Ranelle resolved to come back here one night and see if the real thing compared to her imagination. "I'll bring Dean with me, she probably doesn't even know it's here."

Nodding, the young woman continued down the hallway and soon found herself standing in a large circular room with absolutely nothing in it.

Except another spiraling, metallic staircase.

"Well, only one way to go... up." Moving towards it, Ranelle started her ascension, hoping that it wouldn't lead her to another boring bedroom, and somehow knowing that it wouldn't. When she reached the landing, Ranelle was immediately faced with another open door. She stepped through and sucked in an astonished breath.

Firstly, the room was huge. No, that didn't cover it... it was a mammoth room. It looked, roughly, to be a rectangle sitting on a circular base. The dimensions could have been anywhere from 35x60 feet to 70x100 feet. But that wasn't all... every single wall was lined with a table that only stopped when room for a cabinet was needed. The center of the room had a large table in it, with nothing on its surface and an extra lamp hanging above it. The walls above the tables were, well, they weren't really walls, but windows.

Ranelle moved over to one of the windows and received her second shock. While the room was a rectangle and built on a cylinder, it was left so there would have been no roof, with the real walls coming up to about Ranelle's waist. Another wall was built around the outside, in the shape of a circle, completely of glass.

The room itself contained computers. Lots of computers, at least five, all along on wall, with the other three taken up with electronics, tools, paper, pens, manuals of some sort, and any other device that any computer tech or geek would love to own. Ranelle had never, outside of computer stores, seen so many computers and parts to computers lying around. She could also tell that Dean actually spent time here. There was the odd glass or plate sitting around on cleared spaces, and the researcher figured that Dean spent a lot of her free time here.

Moving back to the door, Ranelle turned, took one last look, shook her head, and went down the stairs to find her way back to Dean.

****************

Scott had set out that morning and pulled into Dean's driveway just after 10. As he climbed out of his Mercedes and looked around the yard, he decided that it hadn't changed since the last time he had been here, over six years ago, when Dean had actually come back to Texas for her vacation.

He still couldn't get over how different and interesting this house was. It seemed to mix features and details of older buildings with more creative modern ideas, creating a unique building the likes of which he had never seen before. Scott knew that he had not been in all the different rooms and hallway's, and he wondered if Dean had. As far as he knew, his friend hadn't spent a lot of time in the building, actually, outside of that vacation she had taken here, he didn't think Dean had been in it again before now.

Moving up to the door Scott took in the SUV parked haphazardly in front of the door and wondered what that was all about. Shrugging, he moved up to the aged pinewood door and knocked using the heavy brass knocker.

Knowing that Dean would have been up long ago he started wondering what was up when the door wasn't answered. He knocked again and waited. Nothing happened. Just as he was about to use the spare key he had been given long ago so he could keep the house and yard decent looking, the wooden portal opened.

Scott entered the house took one look at Dean and became instantly suspicious. Here it was 10:15 in the morning and his friend was standing before him still dressed in her pajamas. "Uh, hi Dean."

"Hey Scott. Sorry, I forgot you were coming."

"Yeah, okay, but what's up?"

"Huh?" Scott simply raised his eyebrows and meaningfully ran his eyes up and down Dean's long frame. "Oh, I'll tell you about it in a minute, but I gotta sit down." Closing the door and turning back to the living room, Scott followed closely and was just in time to catch Dean's arm and steady her as the taller woman faltered.

"Hey, come on, sit down." Scott's voice reflected his worry and he quickly helped get his friend seated on the couch. Sitting beside her he turned his greeny gray eyes upon Dean. She instantly saw the concern in them. "Now, what's up?"

Sighing, Dean knew she wouldn't get out of this and quickly and efficiently sketched out what had happened. Starting with the message on her machine Friday night, introducing Ranelle and saying that she really wanted to meet the officer, and if it was convenient she would be at the Rainstep that evening. Dean's quick narrative included her and Ranelle's suspicions and feelings and covered the time up until the young golden-haired woman had gone exploring.

"Wow, Dean, that's all sort of scary."

"I guess."

"So you're going to San Diego on Wednesday?"

"Yep." Scott nodded and any further conversation was delayed by the sound of a door opening behind them and a satisfied yelp of victory. The occupants of the couch turned to see Ranelle standing just inside the living room, a large smile covering her face.

"Hey, you have an amazing house here. I was afraid I wouldn't find my way back here." Ranelle started talking as she made her way to the couch and seemed to notice Scott for the first time. "Oh, sorry. I'm Ranelle." She stuck out her hand as Scott stood and grasped it.

"Scott."

"Oh, cool, it's great to meet you." Ranelle smiled as she started assessing him as she always did whenever meeting someone for the first time. He stood about an inch taller than her own five feet and four inches, with incredibly blonde hair that looked almost white. His eyes were an interesting green and gray and his snub nose and boyish good looks caused Ranelle to classify him as 'cute.' Someone who would always look young and just have that baby cute look to them. Ranelle was getting good vibes and decided that she was going to like this friend of Dean's.

"It's great to meet me?" Scott had a slight smirk and there was a teasing tone to his voice.

"Oh, yeah. Dean mentioned that you were a good friend and ever since I wanted to meet you."

He nodded, "I see."

The trio soon found themselves sitting around the living room, Scott and Dean reminiscing about their childhood spent together and Ranelle listened avidly, glad beyond reason that she was getting to hear about Dean's childhood and getting an idea about how Scott saw her.

While Dean had moved around a lot as a child in the eight years that her father had been in the Navy in the states, the time the two kids did have together was well spent and their budding friendship withstood all the moving about. Then, Dean's father retired after 20 years in the service and had managed to make quite a name for himself in that time. Then he started the company with his partner Maurice Stoisfield and the family settled into Austin, Texas for good.

By the time Malcom had retired, Dean had already been in the service for a year. For the last year of High School, Dean had stayed permanently in Dallas where Scott's family had moved, living with them, and actually spending an entire year in one spot. That, in itself, was one of the largest deciding factors behind Dean's decision to make the Navy her career. She went stir crazy, and in that time Dean had the passing thought, more than once, that if she didn't move around she would truly go mad.

On her part, the choice to stay in Dallas for the last year had three reasons. Even then, things between her and her family were getting strained and she did it to get away from them and piss her father off. It worked, on both counts. Dean also used the time to strengthen her friendship with Scott, and that was when their bond evolved into the realm of something that would last their entire lives. Thirdly, and this she had not told anyone, Dean used it as a test. To see if she could live as a civilian. She couldn't. It was as simple as that.

Ranelle soaked up all this information as it was uncovered and gleefully listened to the stories of childhood mischief, dislodging a few tales of her own upon prodding from both Dean and Scott. They weren't quite as outrageous and wild as the lifelong friend's were, but Ranelle and her siblings had managed to get into some sticky situations.

Noon quickly rolled around and Scott announced that he had to get back to the store and finish up a few matters that needed to be taken care of before they opened again for the start of a new week. Seeing as it was lunch time and there was almost no food in the house, Ranelle and Dean decided to go out for lunch.

The trio left the house together and bundled into their respective vehicles after Scott extracted a promise from Dean for her to call him when they got back from San Diego. After the short drive into the more populated area of the city, the inevitable and dreaded question was asked. "Where do you want to eat?"

"Huh." Ranelle looked over at Dean, taking her eyes off the road for a moment. "Oh, I don't care. Why don't we just go to Hego's? We both like it, the service and food is good, and it's close." Dean nodded her acceptance of the destination and Ranelle quickly angled the car in the proper direction.

They arrived at the cafe/diner in short order and carefully climbed out of the high car and headed into the well kept building. The women were immediately met by a perky, smiling waitress. "Well, I was wondering how long it was going to be before the two of you showed up again. Personally, I thought it would be tomorrow at the earliest." Stacey ran her eyes down Dean's incredibly tall form and then looked over at Ranelle. "Oh, girl, what did you do?!"

"Huh?" Ranelle was obviously confused by this question. She quickly remembered, however, when Stacey stepped forward and lightly touched the cut on her forehead. "Oh, it's nothing Stacey. We just had a little problem in the parking lot last night. I'm fine."

"Whatever you say, Ranelle. So, where would you like to sit?" Stacey turned to look at the two of them and suddenly broke out into a full smile, snickering slightly.

"What?" Ranelle's voice was laced with confusion and curiosity, wondering what her friend could be laughing at. Dean, for her part, just looked mildly amused and said nothing. "What??"

"Nothing, it's nothing, Ranelle. I'm sorry."

Ranelle snorted, "No you're not."

Stacey finally lost the rest of her control and burst out laughing at the look on Ranelle's face, which was a curious mix of indignation, annoyance, and affection for her friend. As the waitress wound down and regained control, she looked over at the silent Naval officer to see quizzical blue eyes upon her, and a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

It was Stacey's turn to pose the question, "What?"

"Don't you ever not work?" The curly-haired woman attempted to answer, her mouth moving several times, but nothing came out. "You always seem to be around, everywhere," Dean continued, "it's kinda disconcerting." Dean then smiled, nodded toward a table at the back of the restaurant and moved off toward it, leaving behind a sputtering waitress and a grinning Ranelle.

The duo sat and waited for Stacey to regain her composure. She finally did and meandered over to take their order. They ate and maintained light, nonsense conversation, until Stacey joined them on her break. It then became Dean's turn to hear stories of Ranelle's nights out on the town with friends and get to know this woman who was obviously someone important in the golden-haired woman's life.

The waitress decided that she would like this tall Navy woman and considered the possibility of having found a friend in the woman. To Stacey's eyes, it was obvious that in the three days since they had met, Ranelle and the officer had started to become friends. Good friends in the making. She smiled at this, thinking that Ranelle didn't have that many people in her life that she could call that. It basically consisted of herself, Amanda, Brock, and perhaps her uncle. Stacey also decided that perhaps another friend was also what Dean needed, and if that was the case, then she couldn't have found a better choice than Ranelle.

Brought back from her musings after hearing her name, Stacey focused on Ranelle who was looking at her and asking a question. "Seriously, Stace, I wanna know what you were laughing at." The waitress turned brown eyes to blue, having the feeling that Dean had a pretty good idea about what had transpired when they had first entered.

Dean's low voice broke the silence, "You got a mirror around here? Full length, preferably."

Stacey grinned, correct in her assumption that the officer had caught on. "Yeah, come one." All three women stood, Dean shuffling her cane around to her left hand and moving after the waitress.

They arrived in the back room for staff and she mutely pointed toward the requested mirror that ran the entire length of the wall. "Go stand in front of that," Dean said.

"Bu.."

"Ranelle, do you wanna know? Go over there." Ranelle moved over and stood, staring dumbly at her reflection.

"Okay, now what?"

She was silenced as Dean came up behind her and stood. Slowly, a smile broke out across her fair features, and soon Ranelle ended up laughing and bent over, holding her stomach. Their reflection was nothing short of comical. Besides the fact that they looked as different as night and day, Dean towered over her by more than a foot and she couldn't help thinking that she looked tiny. Besides her height, Dean's muscularity added to her considerable bulk, cutting a distinctive and intimidating figure.

Stacey had started laughing again, seeing them standing one in front of the other and their reflection. Even Dean was grinning, but not from the image-- no, she was used to people looking at her funny because of her height, used to almost always being the tallest person in a room, used to people on the street giving her a wide berth, thinking that she was a danger, used to bending her head down to see people and speak to them-- Dean was simply smiling because laughter is infectious, and although she wasn't going to break down like the other two, Dean would allow a real, full smile.

When the two friends finally managed to stop laughing it took another few moments for them to stop gasping for breath before either of them could speak. Stacey moved over to Dean and stood right in front of her, craning her neck way up to see her face. "Wow," was all she said.

"Yeah, wow." Ranelle added her two cents and then moved over beside Dean, too. "I guess I never quite realized it until I saw your height compared to mine. Although, I guess I should have clued in when I kept noticing you ducking your head to go through doors. Just how tall are you?"

Dean sniffed, then answered, "Just under 6' 5". Barefoot."

"What about the rest of your family?" Stacey chimed in. "Did everyone end up really tall?"

"Nope. My mother is about Ranelle's size. My dad's just under six foot. All my siblings are shorter than me. David comes the closest, around 6' 1". And....the shortest is Rachel at 5' 6"."

"Man, that's kind of weird. So where does you height come from?" Stacey inquired.

"I haven't a clue."

The trio moved back into the main room and spent another 10 minutes lounging around, which Ranelle took to inform Stacey of her plans to go to San Diego on Wednesday. Stacey amiably agreed to look after her cat and collect mail, just the normal little chores. They left, then, with Ranelle asking Dean to drop her off at the magazine office to pick up her car. Dean agreed, after considerable debate.

"Ranelle," they were sitting in the parking lot, a few feet from where they had been attacked, "I want you to be careful when you're alone, especially at night. Okay?"

"Yeah, I will be. I don't plan on staying at the office late very much until we get this cleared up. And once Wednesday rolls around, I'll be with you." Ranelle finished with a large grin. Dean returned it. "So, are you going to take care of the tickets and stuff?"

"Yep, I have to go out for therapy tomorrow, pick up my glasses, I'll add plane tickets to the list. Don't worry about it, all you have to do is be at the airport."

Ranelle nodded and latched onto the, as of yet, unmentioned aspect of Dean's health. "Glasses?"

"For reading." Dean stated, simply.

"Gotcha." Ranelle sat staring out the car window for a moment, thinking. As she turned, the young woman caught Dean with a mildly introspective look adorning her features. She waited until the look passed, not wanting to interrupt any important thoughts. "Alrighty, then. I guess I'll see you on Wednesday, if not before."

"Yep, I'll give you a call with the flight info tomorrow."

"Sure. And, Dean?" The dark head turned and indigo eyes latched onto hers. "I hope it goes well with the therapist." Dean's face registered shock for a moment before it returned to its regular mild indifference, but Ranelle caught the faint gleam of thanks and appreciation in her eyes, as Dean knew she would.

Nodding once, Ranelle climbed out of the car. As she turned back to look at the officer one last time, Dean inclined her head regally, in lieu of words. Ranelle, at a loss and not quite sure what to make of this interesting figure, smiled, and closed the door.

She stood and watched as the large Nissan reversed and merged with the traffic, returning its owner to her solitude. Shaking her head, the researcher decided that Dean was starting to have an effect on her. And it didn't bother her in the least.

Part 2

Monday dawned bright and early, too early, if you asked Ranelle. She managed to drag herself into the office by 9:30 and filled her uncle in on their plans to go to San Diego. As she had suspected, Amark didn't have a problem with it at all. What he did flip out over, though, along with Amanda and Brock, was the healing cut on her head.

Ranelle repeatedly explained what had happened, saying that it was nothing to worry about. She let them believe that it was a simple mugging attempt, thwarted by Dean. She didn't think that the tall officer would mind, it would only increase her good reputation. However, if her cousin met Dean and proved to be as astute as Ranelle knew she was, then she might remember this little story and use the same logic that the officer herself had used. "If it were you, would you have gone and robbed someone who was walking around with someone who looked like me?"

That's what Dean had said and Ranelle had to agree.... only a first class idiot would randomly attack Dean, or anyone with her. So, if Amanda met Dean and caught on.... Ranelle shuddered. Her cousin would go ballistic, totally crazy, probably spend an hour yelling at her for lying and downplaying the situation. And then... then she'd want to know what was really going on. And if she found out.... Ranelle was sure she'd spontaneously combust. Not to mention her uncle. No, the young reporter didn't even want to consider the results of Amark getting clued into the danger of her situation. He had started considering her as a second daughter long ago, and she was more than happy to consider him as a father.

Ranelle herself wasn't sure what was really happening, but after almost two years hearing about different stories, researching for them, and writing a few, she had developed a pretty good 'dangerous news' radar. And it was going off the scale with this story.

Brock, it seemed, had been too engrossed in Joanna to take notice of Dean's short appearance at the club. She was glad, because he was almost incapable of keeping his mouth shut. Especially when his friends were involved.

So Ranelle resigned herself to the reality of being paranoid until this situation passed. Except with Dean. Strangely enough, she felt curiously safe and secure around the officer. It was a strange and different feeling, but nice and familiar at the same time.

After several hours spent at her computer, typing out the information that she had learned about Dean through casual conversation and Scott, two things brought Ranelle out of her intense concentration. The phone and someone knocking at the door.

"Come in," she yelled, simultaneously reaching for the offending instrument that was warbling from the corner of her desk. "Hello?" Ranelle motioned for her cousin to sit down and wait a moment.

"Hey," the voice said.

Ranelle smiled in reflex, "How did everything go?"

"Heh, pretty damn good, considering. I got the tickets," Dean answered.

"Okay, gimme a sec," Ranelle paused and rifled through the mess on her desk looking for a clean piece of paper to write on. "Okay, shoot."

"Right. Flight 324, departing at 9:15 am. You should probably be there by 8:40 at the latest. Okay?"

"Yeah, I got it. Where will you be?"

"What makes you think I'll be there before you?" There was a slight teasing tone in her voice.

Ranelle snorted and rolled her eyes, causing Amanda to start laughing. "Please, if there is one impression I have of you that isn't completely wrong, it's that you are always early. Am I right?"

"Pretty much. Must be a military thing." The accented voice came through the phone line in a deep rumble. There was a pause as both women stopped to consider voicing different statements. Ranelle decided to just bite the bullet, so to speak.

"You sure everything went well at the therapist?"

Ranelle could instantly hear the smile when Dean answered. "I got rid of that stupid stick. What do you think?"

The researcher experienced a moment of pure happiness and relief, the only outward sign of this a large grin and small sigh. "Good, I'm happy for you Dean."

"I know. See you Wednesday?"

"Of course, unless we bump into each other before then."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

Ranelle felt confusion and, oddly, panic. "Wh... what?!"

"I think bumping into me on the street would be a little bit hazardous to your health. Doncha' think?" The smile and teasing flowed through the receiver and Ranelle almost dropped it as she realized what Dean had meant. A smile soon followed, and her good mood returned.

"Yeah, just a bit. Bye."

"Buh-bye."

Ranelle hung up and shook her head slightly, giving her cousin her full attention. "So, what's up?"

Amanda straightened in her seat and paused for a moment, composing her thoughts. "You're going to San Diego?" Ranelle nodded. "When are you coming back?"

"Dean thinks we should be ready to leave Friday but nothing is definite so far. Why?"

"I was just curious. What about your final project?"

"Oh, I'm going to drop it off tomorrow. I'll call you when I get back if you want, Amanda." Her cousin nodded her assent and pursed her lips for a moment, thinking. Ranelle sighed and finally lost her patients. "Okay, what do you want to say!?"

"Huh?"

"I know you want to say something but you're not sure if you should. You have that look. Just spit it out, already!"

"Are you sure that you're going to be safe with this story?" The words came out quickly and ran together, if Ranelle hadn't been waiting to hear them it would have sounded like gibberish.

"What do you mean safe with this story? Or do you mean safe with Dean?"

"Uhhmm... yeah sorta. Are you going to be okay going over there with this person you don't know, is Dean going to be able to keep you safe from the bad guys, most importantly, are you sure that Dean is one of the good guys?" Amanda looked up at her cousin to be met with flashing green eyes that threatened to swallow her whole.

"Amanda, I may not know Dean as well as you think I should, but I know her well enough to be sure that she doesn't have any sinister intentions. As for being protected," here, Ranelle couldn't help grinning- just a little bit, "that really isn't an issue. Trust me."

Amanda simply stood up and left the room, mumbling under her breath.

**************

The errands had taken a lot less time than she had originally thought once the therapy was over and done with. Dean was deliriously happy that she hadn't set herself back any and was now rid or the troublesome cane. Granted, it was a little bit more difficult to get around now, but her body needed to get used to not having that support, and it would with time.

Now, however, the officer found herself limping around the kitchen looking for something to eat. She had been hungry for the last several hours and would have gone out to eat but that was something she didn't like doing. Going to a real restaurant. Diners, cafes, fast food joints, they were fine. But restaurants? They made her shudder. They didn't used to, but then again she hadn't been in one of those classy places for, had it been eight years? Dean wasn't sure why they bothered her, okay, that wasn't true. The last place like that, that she had been in, was full of snobs. Real uppity, arrogant, stuck-up people. It had been a bad experience, with one real mean jerk causing a scene and Dean had been at the center of it. She had no desire to repeat it. Even food courts at malls-- so may people packed into one place. Ugh. It had even been a struggle to haul herself into the Rainstep last Friday, but her desire to get the ME story out had made it slightly easier.

So, with her own terrible shopping habits and limited list of places she would eat at, Dean often found herself not eating anything really substantial, ordering in- which she didn't like either because it seemed like no one could find the house- or sitting in very familiar surroundings and eating the same thing that she often had.

Finally a decision was made and the officer was out the door and piling into the Nissan. She was headed to Hego's. Again. Maybe Ranelle would walk in.

*************

"Hey Navy guy!" The loud exclamation caused the two occupants of a back table to raise their heads. One of them smiled upon seeing the large and familiar bulk standing just inside the door.

Stacey hurried over to Dean and grinned. "Hey Stace."

"Dean-O, what are you doing here? And you got rid of that stick! Awesome."

"Um, eating?"

"Right. I think I just inherited another regular." Stacey was leading Dean away from the door and toward the back of the room.

"Nope. I was always a regular whenever I was in the city. I was just never around a lot."

"Ahh, point taken. Viola! Your seat." Stacey sidestepped away to Dean's right to reveal a smiling blonde who stood immediately.

"Hey, congratulations!"

"Uh, oh, thanks." Dean was momentarily confused and then realized what Ranelle was referring to. "I'm glad to be rid of the stupid thing."

"Come on, join us."

Dean amiably pulled out a chair and settled her frame into it. She turned her eyes to the man at the table and then looked at Ranelle, her brow raised in question.

"Oh, right. Dean this is Brock. Brock, Dean."

They shook hands and exchanged greetings, Brock immediately starting in with questions about the company. Ranelle gave the conversation her full attention as Brock inquired about something that she, herself, had been wondering about.

"How come you've never actually been to the headquarters, I mean, you don't exactly run the company in the traditional way."

"It's really very simple. Not what a lot of people seem to think. When my father passed it down to me I was away. Actually, I had been outside of the states almost solidly for the last three years. I knew he was going to give it me, it was just a matter of when. Anyway, one day we stopped at a base somewhere in the US on our way to start up another mission. Now, if you want to get a message to anyone in our unit you have to leave it at the San Diego base and they'll pass it along and make sure that the message is wherever the person is going to be when they get back to America. I had a bunch of stuff from Scott telling me what had happened and to call him. I did. So, I never had the opportunity to get involved with it. I told Scott who I wanted running everything- it was basically a board of seven people- and they still are, running it, I mean. They've been doing an excellent job so I figure why mess with a good thing. They do have to consult me about making new policies or with anything concerning large amounts of money. Reports get sent to the manager of the parent store here. That's Scott. I trust the people on the board, that's why I chose them. And I trust Scott. There had always been certain policies that my father had used that just didn't make sense to me, I was sure that everything would run better without them. So I did get rid of those and make one new one that I had been dying to incorporate. Things are better for it. And that's all there is to it." Dean finished with a shrug.

"Huh. It's just that simple?"

"Indeed."

There was a lull in the conversation as everyone concentrated on their food. It was broken by the only male voice at the table. "Ranelle, did you know that...." Dean listened as Brock started telling Ranelle about his upcoming date with Joanna, that she worked as a nurse, and how he was so happy that Ranelle had introduced them. The blonde simply laughed and said that she hadn't, they were already sitting together and they just needed a push in the right direction.

The officer remembered seeing Brock sitting at the table beside them. He had been engrossed in a conversation with a nice looking young woman. She remembered seeing his face, he had looked utterly content and almost happy sitting there with her. Dean silently wished him the best in that relationship. The dark woman was brought from her thoughts by a hand on her arm. Dean looked up at Ranelle and raised an eyebrow.

"Can you pick me up Wednesday? I really don't like leaving my car at the airport. Last time I did that all the tires were flat and the windshield was cracked."

"Sure. Where do you live."

"Um," Ranelle paused and then scribbled her address on a napkin, smiling as she remembered doing the same for her phone number, "here. It isn't that far. About a ten minute walk from here, that-a-way." Ranelle pointed to Dean's right. The officer nodded, smiled, and tucked the paper into her pocket.

"I'm sure I'll find it. I have to go. I'll pick you up just after 8 am, 'kay?"

"Sure. Bye!"

"Bye." Dean stood and limped her way out the door and into her SUV.

************

She was running late. It was Wednesday morning, Dean would be there soon and Ranelle was running late. Her alarm hadn't gone off and then when she went to have a shower the researcher realized that there was no water pressure. So, she was late.

A light knock came at the door at exactly 8:05. Ranelle sighed. She jumped over a stack of printouts that were sitting on the floor, veered around Terkers and ended stumbling headfirst into the door. She stood up and pulled it open to be met by a hulking, amused, and snickering figure. "Problems?" Dean asked, innocently.

"Argghh! Don't...even..go there. Come in and have a seat. Make sure you don't trip and break your neck or something, though. Give me 5 minutes."

"Sure." Dean ambled into the apartment, closing the door behind her. She watched as Ranelle scurried into her bedroom and closed the door. The officer took the opportunity to gaze around the apartment while on her way to the couch.

While currently in a state of disarray, with papers, files, and printouts scattered around it was a nice apartment. It was done up in rich, bright colors, with decent well-kept furniture and a respectable amount of personal knickknacks scattered about. It was, Dean admitted, what she had basically expected of the bright, sunny young woman. And almost the opposite of her own house.

Dean settled her long frame onto the couch and looked down at the persistent whining at her feet to be met by greeny, yellow eyes. She smiled at the black and white cat with a pink and black nose. Just a hint of pink on the upper right corner, just enough to not be overly noticeable but adorably cute.

The officer extended her large hand out for inspection and made a deep burring noise in the back of her throat. Ranelle stepped out of her room and instantly smiled at the sight. Here was this six and a half foot tall Navy officer sprawled across her couch waiting for the approval of a creature that would have been lucky to be a tenth of Dean's size. Ranelle could hear the sound she was making and decided that it almost sounded like the purr of a very large cat. And that was what she looked like, too. Black denim jeans, her legs extended across the floor from the low couch and the dark leather jacket stretched across the muscled arm extended toward the feline who was cautiously stretching towards this very large intruder.

Eventually, Terkers decided that she liked this new human and stepped forward, rubbing her head up and against Dean's hand. She smiled and scooped the kitten up. Looking up, Dean smiled upon seeing Ranelle and stood from the couch, the cat firmly held, cradled in the crook of her left arm. Dean grinned.

Ranelle grinned. And chuckled. "She looks so tiny when you hold her."

"Yeah, well, anything looks tiny compared to me. Even you. What's her name?"

"Terkers. I'm surprised, it usually takes her awhile to get used to new people. You must send off good animal vibes.. or, something."

Dean snorted and deposited the cat back on the couch. She stood there for a moment, looking at this new human, then bounded off in search of something to play with. "You ready?"

Ranelle nodded, "Yep. Let's go."

"All this stuff," Dean gestured to the paper covering her desk when they passed, "is it about the mission?"

"Yeah. Most of it is useless, though. Took me three days to wade through it all."

"That was probably the point."

Ranelle's brow puckered and she squinted. "What do you think we'll find?"

"I have no idea. It might not be anything, but something isn't sitting right. Let's go."

The researcher shook her head and followed her friend out the door, stopping once to lock it.

*************

The airport was crowded, but that was a given. There seemed to be a gigantic living wall blocking their path, and Ranelle was hard pressed to see anything besides everyone else's shirts, jackets, or arms. Dean did not seem to have that problem though. Ranelle could tell from where she was that if she was on the other end of the airport and looked across the flowing mass of humanity that Dean's dark head would rise above the rest like a beacon.

"So, where do we go?"

"Huh, you mean you don't know?" Ranelle asked, bewildered.

"Not really. I've only been in this airport once before and that was a long, long time ago."

"Yeah, well, same here. Look for the signs for departures or something like that. I can't see a thing."

There was silence and Ranelle looked up to see the officer slowly moving her head back and forth, scanning the walls and ceilings for signs. Finally, Dean pointed and started off in that direction. She got two steps before stopping short and looking behind her. Ranelle was already a considerable distance behind.

Grinning, the officer moved easily back to her friend. "Problems?"

"Just a little." Ranelle smiled up at Dean.

"Come on." Dean reached down and grabbed the researcher's hand, leading them through the crowd with easy grace. Ranelle was too busy taking in the warmth of Dean's hand and realizing that her much smaller one easily fit in Dean's. These thoughts kept her occupied and she suddenly found herself being pushed into a chair at their gate.

Ranelle looked up, stunned. She had been so occupied that Dean had taken them both through the motions of boarding a plane and she hadn't noticed.

"We're early, but so is the plane. So we're actually right on time. We'll be boarding in about five minutes. Okay?"

The younger woman bobbed her head, "Cool."

When the duo made their way onto the very large aircraft, Ranelle found herself settling into a first class seat. "Um, Dean?"

"Hm."

"How much did these tickets cost?"

"Why?"

"Uh, because I wanna pay you back especially since we're...."

"Ranelle, I wont let you pay me. This was nothing, besides, whenever I fly anywhere on my own-- which isn't very often-- I always go first class."

"You do?"

"Yep, otherwise I don't fit into those coach seats and it's just really uncomfortable and I get off in a terrible mood." Ranelle chuckled. The older woman had painted a very vivid picture of Dean trying to fold her six-and-a-half-feet into one of those tiny seats with even less leg room. She glanced down and noticed that even here, Dean's considerably long legs seemed to be scrunched somewhat uncomfortably and took up all the room offered.

"I see your point. But the tickets..."

"Ranelle, no. You can pay for meals if ya want, but the tickets are strictly on me. 'Kay?"

"Okay."

They fell into a comfortable silence, listening to the rumble of the engines get louder as the plane started moving down the runway. Soon, the stewardess was doing her spiel on safety and whatnot and they were in the air, headed to California.

****************

The flight went by very quickly and was blissfully uneventful and the duo soon found themselves in another crowded terminal and headed to a car rental desk. After a brief wait in a short line and a few moments at the desk, they were being led out to a lot with various cars parked in them.

Their dour escort led them to a medium sized, light purple, decent looking car and immediately flipped the keys over to Dean and scurried back to the air conditioned building. Dean smiled slightly and then scrutinized the car for a moment before tossing the keys to her younger companion. "Why am I driving?"

"Cause even though this is called a medium car it's rather small. Now get in. It's about two hours to the base if we don't get stuck in traffic. Sooner we leave, sooner we get there." Dean then opened the passenger door and folded her frame into the confining space. Ranelle mentally shrugged and climbed in too.

Dean directed her to the highway and as soon as they got on that, they started making a lot more progress. The silence, however, was eventually broken. "Why San Diego?"

"Huh?"

"Why is San Diego used as the main base of operations for you guys?"

"Oh, well, that was there both myself and Admiral Cooper were stationed at the time. He is the supervisor so it seemed logical to choose a spot that he was already at so he wouldn't have to move everything. It's not like we spent a lot of time there ourselves. It's mainly just where all the files are kept and the Admiral plans and consults and issues orders from." Dean shrugged. "It doesn't hold as much importance as you may think. But if you want information on us or the missions... this is undoubtedly the place to come to."

Ranelle bobbed her head. "I see." She paused for a moment and Dean could tell she was debating brining up a certain subject or not. Finally, the researcher came to a decision after a lot of muttering under her breath and moving her head in every direction that was physically possible. "So what's your take on this guy who survived and was, as far as we know, relatively unharmed, but has disappeared?"

"What... what are you talking about?" The officer's voice was clearly confused.

Ranelle's brow puckered and she briefly glanced at the woman beside her before returning her eyes to the road. "What do you mean, what am I talking about? Four people survived, you, a coma victim, that Lt. guy, and another fellow."

The dark head started to shake back and forth. "No, only three. Me, Lt. guy, and coma guy. That's it Ranelle."

"No way, my uncle told me four survivors, and he got that from the paper."

"What's his name?"

"My uncle?"

"No, no, the disappearing guy!"

"Oh, um, he didn't say."

"Who didn't say?"

"My uncle didn't say!"

Silence fell over the occupants of the car for a very long moment. Then, "You mean to tell me that the papers and your uncle said there were four survivors?"

"Yes."

"Me, Lt. guy, coma guy, and disappearing guy. Right?"

"Yes."

"But you don't know disappearing guy's name or rank or job, or anything like that?"

"Right."

"And nobody could tell you?"

"Well, I didn't ask the Navy people because I had so much trouble finding stuff out about you, I didn't think they'd offer information about a guy whose name I didn't even know."

"Arghh! Okay, this guy supposedly lived, because... how do they know he's alive?"

"Oh, he was reported seen in Denmark and North Carolina."

"Right, by who?" Dean's voice had started to sound exasperated and increasingly frustrated since the beginning of the conversation. From the way the tall woman was clenching her fist repeatedly, Ranelle hoped she wouldn't lose control and decide to take it out on the car. She'd probably put a hole through the dashboard. Ranelle herself was intrigued and extremely interested.

"I dunno."

"Okay.. okay. Lemme get this straight. It was printed in the newspaper that this guy was alive but they didn't say his name or your uncle just forgot. But we don't know for sure that he is alive. They figure he's alive because he was allegedly seen in two different places in the last ten months and they obviously didn't find a body for him or anything. Am I good so far?"

"Uh-huh."

"Right, now, I was told that he was dead... which really doesn't make sense. I know for sure that every one of our men who lived were put on that same chopper. Now, I only remember Lt. guy being there and a few other people, very vaguely. But, as far as I can remember, there were only three people moaning and groaning and being attended to by medics-- including me. Then again, I was practically half dead so my recollection might be a bit off. However, everyone got out at the same time and I wasn't coherent enough to be told anything for about four weeks so no one could have made a mistake and told me there were three survivors when there were four. By that time if anyone had been left over there they would have been recovered. And what I was told was that three of our people were recovered and three survived." Dean paused in her statement of what both women were rapidly starting to think were not all the facts.

Sensing that something was a bit off, Ranelle glanced over at Dean. The officer was gripping the handle on the roof so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. The tension was flowing off her rigid body in palpable waves and a very intense, faraway look was on her face. But what scared Ranelle the most and made the researcher pull over at the side of the road was the look of pain on her face and the undeniable rage and fear in her eyes. Dean's pallor had become frighteningly pale.

She quickly undid her seat belt and leaned over toward the officer. Ranelle reached out and put her hand on the fist balled in Dean's lap to find the skin ice cold. "Dean, hey, come on. Dean, look at me! You're scaring me, Dean, what's wrong?" As Ranelle got closer she could her the officers breathing coming in short, raspy pants and her eyes seemed to have glazed over. The researcher's thoughts started racing... 'Oh God, what do I do? I don't know what's happening.'

After trying to get Dean's attention verbally, Ranelle reached over and grabbed the officer's chin, turning her unresisting head so that vacant pools of blue that held no recognition whatsoever, were focused on Ranelle. "Dean look at me, listen to me. Whatever you're thinking about, wherever your mind is, it's over. You aren't there anymore, you're sitting in a car with me in California. Come on Dean, come back to me." Ranelle sat and waited, her voice strained with emotion and her hand still on the officer's face.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the glazed look disappeared, her hands unclenched, and the indigo eyes blinked. Slowly. Once. Twice. Three times. Dean lowered her eyes for a moment and shook her head. When she raised them, Ranelle saw the person she had been getting to know for the last few days.

Dean's color was already returning and Ranelle breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Sorry." Dean's voice was low and raspy. "I... um, that... ah.... that hasn't happened before."

"What Dean? What happened? You scared me half to death."

"I was... remembering, I guess."

"Remembering? Remembering what?"

"Middle East."

"You haven't.... I mean... before now.."

"No, well, I had to rehash a lot of it in the hospital for Cooper, but I always tried to not think about it, or to be detached when I did. I guess talking about this triggered something and I got these... flashbacks." Dean sucked in a breath and released it as a sigh. "Okay, lets go."

Ranelle turned back in her seat and buckled her belt, starting the car and easing into the flow of traffic. They sat in silence, each processing what had happened both before, after, and during Dean's memories. Ranelle kept glancing worriedly at the woman beside her, unnerved by what had happened.

The remainder of the trip was spent in relative silence until Dean leaned forward and turned on the radio, fiddling with the dial for several moments before settling on what sounded like an ethnic station. "This okay?"

"Yeah, what is it. I like." Ranelle had a smile on her face and her overall expression told Dean that she was very much enjoying what she was hearing.

"It's an Italian station."

"Ohh, real Italian music. I've never heard anything like this before. Cool!" The duo sat back and listened, the lively music and foreign lyrics flowing through the enclosed space. Only Dean's very occasional comment about where to turn broke through and that was just fine with both women. For now, at least. But Ranelle was determined to bring up the previous events.

Maybe she'd even be able to help Dean come to terms with what had happened. If only a bit. As far as she knew, the tall officer hadn't spoken about it to anyone except for her superiors and that.... that just wasn't healthy.

They would have to wait and see, but if nothing else besides the story, Ranelle was determined to help Dean work through some of the things that surely caused her nightmares.

***************

The car finally turned onto a long, winding dirt road and both occupants were more than happy at the prospect of getting out of the car when the entrance gate came into view. As far as Dean was concerned, she had been sitting in one place for far, far too long. She could tell that the researcher was getting restless by the way she had been shifting in her seat every few minutes in the last half hour.

Ranelle eased the car up to the gate and rolled her window down to talk to the very small looking man with red-rimmed eyes and, by the sounds of it, a cold.

The guard sniffled and leaned onto the edge of his window to get a better look in the car. He ran almost black eyes over Ranelle and then raised them to the friendly green ones watching him. "Name?"

His nasal voice grated on Dean's sensitive hearing and the officer winced upon hearing it. 'They always had the most annoying people stationed at the gates here.' The passing thought made her smile, slightly, as she remembered several newbies over her career whom she often gave a hard time because it was just fun to watch them sweat. Everyone did it. Spinning outrageous, exaggerated tales about things that could happen and seeing the new recruits reaction. It was like a test. If they couldn't stand up under the other officers joking and take it all in stride, and not let their imaginations run wild about situations that they hadn't been in yet, then they'd make it. If the stories adversely affected them, then they really didn't have any business being in the Navy.

"Ranelle Maloch." Her companion's voice jerked Dean's attention back to the gate and events taking place. The guard turned and consulted a clipboard, flipping to the last sheet and then all the way back to the front. His eyes crinkled and he sniffed again, flipping the sheets over one more time before turning and setting the clipboard on his little window ledge. His eyes raised to the woman in the car and he asked, "How do you spell that?"

The officer groaned and Ranelle turned her head to see Dean slumping down in her seat and leaning her head against the window, obviously she thought that this was going to take some time. Ranelle grinned and turned back to the man, spelling out her full name and waiting patiently.

After several more minutes of relative quite, filled only with three sets of breathing, rustling sheets and constant sniffing, the guard's annoying voice made itself known once again. "I'm sorry but..." The guard trailed off as Dean cursed and added an under her breath 'I don't believe this' and then opened her door and managed to half fall, half climb out of the car.

Ranelle stifled a chuckle as she watched the annoyed woman move quickly around the back of the car and come up next to the window. The hapless guard had been stuttering, trying to tell Dean that she really wasn't supposed to get out of the vehicle. When the officer came up next to the window and bent way down to look through, though, the guard squeaked and promptly shut his mouth. "Hi," Dean's greeting went unanswered, "may I?" She gestured to the clipboard that hung loosely from his hand. He nodded numbly and handed it over. She snatched it up and quickly scanned the sheets.

By the time Dean set the board back down on the ledge the guard had reclaimed his composure and was trying to look like a professional. "Right here." Dean stated with her finger under a name. The man sniffled and lowered his eyes. He stared for a moment before nodding.

"Okay. She's good." He raised his eyes to the blue ones above him and visibly gulped before asking, "Wh... what about you?" Ranelle could tell from her position behind Dean and the expression on the guards face that the officer was grinning at the guard. Not one of those nice, 'hey, how are you' grins. But a full, feral, grin that gave the officer a slightly wild look. The guard had gone absolutely white and she was sure that he was going to pass out.

Dean reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small, black leather wallet. She flipped it open and showed it to the man in the little booth. "You're in the Navy?" His voice squeaked on the last word as wide eyes raised up to look at the woman towering above him. Dean nodded. "Go in, you're both clear." He absently pushed a button as the officer moved back around and arranged herself in the car.

The researcher grinned and waved, saying thanks as she started the car and pulled into the compound. "So, where do I go?"

"Follow this road straight through until you see a big brick building and park there. You can't miss it." Ranelle nodded and continued driving slowly through the compound, all the while watching men and women moving around and training with interested eyes. Finally, Dean pointed out their destination and Ranelle parked the car in an empty spot.

They clambered out and headed off to the two story, older looking building. As soon as they entered, Ranelle noticed that while the outside looked old and run-down, the inside was kept up well, with newer looking furniture and paint on the walls. Dean led her through the main hallway until they reached a set of wooden stairs.

Climbing up them, the researcher found herself in one room with three doors leading off it. One door led to bathrooms, another to offices of some sort and the third was the one Dean stepped through. Ranelle followed to find herself standing it a large room that reminded her of a library.

Directly in front of them were several tables and behind that bookshelves stacked almost to the ceiling. To the right was a large counter with file cabinets behind it and a woman wearing glasses was standing at the counter, working diligently at a computer. And talking on the phone. It didn't sound like business to Ranelle.

Dean smiled and moved quietly over to the counter and stood before the preoccupied woman. "Talking to the boyfriend while on the job again?" Dean had lowered her voice to make it sound slightly menacing and angry. Caught off-guard, the woman on the phone jumped and squawked. She dropped the phone to the desk with a dull clanking sound and quickly raised her head. Just to have a broad grin spread over her features and make her look a lot younger, even younger than Ranelle.

"Oh my God! Dean, I can't believe it!" She ran around the desk and practically launched herself at the Naval officer, who caught her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Which, Ranelle surmised, it was, seeing as the woman was only about 5'.

The officer wrapped her long arms around the laughing woman and hugged her, her own face happy looking. After a few moments, Dean lowered her to the ground and just stood looking at her. They spent a few moments staring at one another until a small, disembodied voice called the women's attention back to her previous activities.

"Hello? Shelly? What's going on?"

"Oops!" The woman turned back, reached over the counter and picked up the phone. "Jack, you'll never guess who just walked in!" Shelly rushed on, not giving the man a chance to even attempt an answer. "Dean!"

There was a pause over the phone line then, "No shit? Dean? Cool!" Shelly grinned and agreed, saying that she would call him back since she really should be working in the first place. When she turned around, Shelly had a large grin covering her face.

"I can't believe you're here! Jack couldn't either."

"Yeah, how's he doing? Has he gotten around to proposing yet?" Dean finished with a grin.

"Oh, yes. About five months ago. He was so cute and charming and.... sorta bashful." Shelly sighed, a dreamy look descending onto her face. Dean smirked and lowered her head, trying to hide a chuckle. The officer had never seen such a silly look on Shelly's face before.

"I'm glad you're happy. But, I didn't come here just to see how you were doing."

Shelly focused onto her tall friend again and her expression immediately became business like. "Yeah, I figured." She looked passed Dean and seemed to notice Ranelle for the first time. "Oh, who do we have here?"

Startled, Dean turned and then waved Ranelle forward. "Oh, sorry. This is my friend Ranelle. She's also writing the article on the ME thing."

Shelly made a tisking noise as she moved forward and shook hands with Ranelle. "Hi, it's nice to meet you. Don't feel neglected or anything, Dean just has horrible manners. Always has, always will."

"Hey!" They turned to see Dean almost pouting. They laughed. The officer simply rolled her eyes and waited for them to collect themselves. "Okay, now that we all had a laugh at my expense, can we get down to business? Please?"

Shelly heaved a huge sigh and answered, "Of course, of course. What do ya need?"

"Files," Dean stated, "on me, my men, and any and all the ones about the ME mission."

Shelly didn't answer right away and seemed to be considering something. "That's a lot to find."

"Yep. Which is why we're gonna help dig them out."

"Dean, that's not..."

"Shelly, they aren't anything I haven't seen before, Ranelle is cleared to see them and you can trust us not to peek into anything that we shouldn't see. Okay?"

She sighed again and nodded, leading them back behind the desk and into the room with the filing cabinets and shelves upon shelves of paper. It looked like organized chaos. Ranelle was just wondering how organized she would find it to be.

Dean went off on her own, obviously knowing what she was looking for, while Shelly took Ranelle aside for a moment. "Alright, you can look for the mission files. They're really easy to find, but unfortunately, scattered throughout these five cabinets." The woman gestured to a set behind them. "Any files that are purple are what you're looking for. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Shelly stood for a moment, watching as the young woman started attacking the cabinets with gusto. She then turned her hazel eyes upon the tall figure rifling through the files at the back of the room. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her friend with a critical eye.

They had taken a training course together back when she had been a newbie and Dean had been enlisted for a little more than a year. Even now, and especially 15 years ago, women taking those types of courses had been less common than males. They had found themselves very much the minority with only two other females in the two and a half week course.

So they had bonded out of pure survival, using one another to help themselves get through the training because all the men did was laugh and heckle. As soon as she had met the tall and determined woman, Shelly knew that she would need this woman's help more than Dean would be needing hers. She was right. The tall woman had a natural affinity for everything and managed to stand up under all the lewd comments of the men very well.

If it hadn't been for their lack of maturity, Dean would have breezed through with no problem. But pranks, and the men just acting like asses had caused many problems, what with her very short temper. If anything at all, Shelly knew that she had kept Dean from picking up the worst of the men and throwing them across the training ground, which would have gotten her kicked out of the course.

She would admit that when it came time for the final test, a grueling obstacle course that few trainees had ever made it through in less than eight minutes and no officer had passed in less than six minutes and twenty-one seconds, Shelly had been ashamedly excited about watching Dean kick their butts to high heaven.

For the night before, Shelly had seen something in the woman's eyes. Dean had had enough. Enough of their inappropriate behaviour, stupid jokes, and constant heckling. The man in charge of the training hadn't seem inclined to stop it, either. His position obviously being that women had no right training for field work in the Navy and were best left to the desk jobs. And if they wanted to try their hand at the 'men's job' then they best be ready to handle everything that came with it.

So Shelly had settled down to watch with everyone else, as Dean took off from the start. She was the last, and the best time was eight minutes and fifteen seconds, made by a spry young man who had been one of the more vocal trainees.

It had truly been a sight to see. Dean had gone flying through the course, her very tall and muscled frame making it easy for her to jump, swing, climb, and run-- faster, better, and smoother than the rest of them. Everyone had sat with their eyes glued to the lightning quick form so as not to miss a single detail. When she finally crossed the designated finish line, her breathing only a little faster than normal and a very light sheen of sweat covering her face, the supervisor clicked off his stop watch and stared dumbly at the device. He finally found his voice again and managed to say in no more than a whisper, "Five minutes and 4.61 seconds." Then he raised his head and continued to stare at Dean with something approaching awe.

None of those men had ever said a nasty thing to Dean again, all of them respecting her and her abilities, which they had seen first hand. A few of them even ended up in Dean's unit and were more than happy to be under the command of this particular woman.

Now, Shelly stood evaluating her as someone who had spent a lot of time getting to know her and working quite closely with her over the years and she was reminded of the very reason she was now studying her friend.

All the men and women at the San Diego base were advised about the mission gone wrong over in the Middle East. Shelly had been frantic, knowing that Dean was over there but she hadn't been able to get any information out of anyone. Fianlly, Jack got back from his assignment and after several correctly placed phone calls they knew that their friend was alive but in serious and unstable condition at a New York Naval hospital.

She and Jack both arranged for some time off, only managing to get two days, so they could go see for themselves the condition their friend was in. It only left them with enough time to fly down, see Dean, and leave the next night. But it was all they had needed. They just needed to see for themselves how bad it really was.

When they arrived, it had taken Jack throwing around some weight and calling in a favor form a Captain friend of his before they were allowed to see Dean. Shelly would always remember walking down that long, impossibly clean corridor to a room in the ICU. Smelling the disinfectant and all those other nasty hospital smells and then stepping around the corner into the proper room.

She had almost passed out.

Lying in the bed was a form that was supposed to be her friend. There were so many different tubes and wires coming out of and going into Dean that seemed to tangle around her and make her look almost alien. She was on a ventilator, with so many other machines around her beeping, whooshing, and buzzing that Shelly felt like she could no longer hear her own thoughts. They seemed to dominate the room.

They had approached the bed, to see a pale, swollen, and bruised face, Dean's head covered with a bandage that wound all around her head. There had been blood seeping though at the right temple, stating the seriousness of the injury beneath since it was still bleeding.

Her right leg had been in a cast and raised in a traction, the bottom of the left uncovered by the blanket and wrapped in bandages for the burns. She had a broken nose, by the looks of it, which just added to the swelling to make Dean almost unrecognizable. Some fingers on her left hand were in a splint and it was very obvious to Shelly that her friend had already lost a lot of weight. And she would still lose more.

The doctor had come in then, explaining Dean's injuries, and there was a chance that she may end up in a coma or possibly with brain damage. He didn't even go into the problems her other injuries might cause, like the abundance of burns that adorned her body.

His hopes for a recovery were that low.

The doctor just focused on the 'if' she wakes up. It made both Shelly and Jack mad that he had already given up on the officer. They had spent the rest of the day there, just talking to Dean, the couple sure that their friend could hear.

Leaving the next night had been difficult, but they were determined to know if anything happened. So Jack had managed to extract a promise form the staff that they would be notified if anything happened. If Dean improved, was moved, or heaven forbid, she died.

They had been told awhile later that her condition improved but that was all. Shelly had gotten in touch with Scott, asking for more information. The young man supplied it, it seems that he had been listed as Dean's emergency contact and got information more easily. He had even phoned regularly to keep them both posted, even if there wasn't anything new to tell.

Her and Jack's schedules and jobs had kept them from going back to visit though. It was something that she deeply regretted, knowing that support from anyone besides Scott would probably not be coming, having a very good idea of Dean's family situation. She had never met any of them and was glad for that, sure that she would not be able to hold her tongue and keep from telling them off.

That they had lost an amazing daughter and sister, for reasons that Shelly didn't know the exact details of but she was pretty damn sure that they were really stupid. It always seemed to be that way. What a shame.

Gazing at the tall figure, Shelly didn't hear Ranelle come up to stand beside her. "Shelly?" The tentative question brought her out of her musings and she focused on Ranelle with a friendly smile.

"Yes?"

"Are... are you okay? I mean, you just had this really, odd look on your face." The woman sighed and looked back at Dean.

"Yeah, I was just," she moved her head from side to side, searching for the right word, "updating my mental catalogue."

"Huh?"

Shelly grinned and glanced at Ranelle before turning her gaze back to the officer. Her face became somber as she started to explain. "The last time I saw her, she was still in the hospital in New York. She looked so vulnerable, lying in that bed. I was just replacing that image with this new one. It's much more pleasant. Don't you think?"

Ranelle nodded. "Definitely."

"Yeah." There was a slight pause. "I'm glad she's doing all right. Is she.... doing all right?"

Ranelle suddenly found herself the subject of Shelly's gaze and she paused, giving the question serious thought. "I'm really not sure, to tell you the truth. I've only just met Dean, and I don't know what's normal. What do you think?"

They both turned back to the officer and watched for several long moments before Shelly answered. "She's still kinda pale..."

"Probably because she just ditched her cane. Gonna take some time to get used to not having the support. I can tell her legs are bothering her."

"Yeah. Besides the scar on her head everything looks pretty normal. Althought she's still too skinny looking."

"What?!" Shelly turned to Ranelle, to see disbelieving eyes trained on her.

"Yeah."

"You mean to tell me that's not normal?" The researcher's voice was incredulous and Shelly chuckled.

"Well, yeah, kinda. Dean lost a lot of weight in the hospital, not to mention all the muscle she had packed onto that frame. It hasn't come back yet."

Ranelle was shocked speechless. She turned and simply stared at Dean, taking in the bulk under her clothes that attested to muscle. A lot of it. It was probably, Ranelle was sure it was, the most she had ever seen packed onto one person outside of bodybuilders. She found it hard to believe that that wasn't normal for the officer. "You're telling me, that before Dean gets back to 100% she's gonna become more, um... ah..."

"Bulky? Intimidating? Solid?"

Her eyes were wide as she nodded her blonde head. "All of the above."

Shelly started chuckling and that soon turned into an all out laugh at the look on the young woman's face. Dean finally became privy to the action taking place behind her and turned. "Hey, are you two going to stand there all day, or are you going to help me?"

Ranelle shook her head and moved back to her filing cabinets while Shelly collected herself and started searching again.

*****************

It had taken almost two full hours but the trio had finally pulled out all the files that Dean had requested. They were sitting stacked on the edges of a table in the back room with a whole bunch more scattered around the table on the floor.

There were a lot of folders. Each file for the 22 men who had been on the mission, plus folders pertaining to the creation of the unit. There were a lot of those, Ranelle had counted at least a dozen. Plus everything that had to do with the Middle East mission, which Dean had commented on there being about fifteen of those.

The researcher had absolutely no idea how they were going to go through all these and be ready to go back to Dallas on Friday. When she had voiced that very thought moments before, Dean had simply said to wait and trust her. She could do that.

"Listen guys. It's 11 right now and it'll probably take you an hour to sort through all this junk and get it separated into manageable piles. So why don't I come back here at 12 and take you to lunch before you dig in and start reading all this junk." Shelly smiled over at Ranelle. "Because if you're anything like Dean, once you start it'll probably take the whole base falling down around you before you'd quit before you're ready. Okay?"

Ranelle brightened at the idea of getting to know this woman better. She smiled and glanced over at Dean who was almost grinning at the prospect of spending time with her friend. "Sure, that'd be great, Shelly. We'll see you in an hour."

Shelly nodded at Ranelle and went to leave before turning back once more. She wrapped her arms around Dean and hugged. "It's good to see you, big guy."

Dean returned the hug wholeheartedly and smiled. "Good to see you, too, shortie."

They let go of each other and Dean turned once her friend was out of sight. "Okay, I don't exactly remember where we put all the different files." They moved over to the table and surveyed the mess. "Can you start over here," Dean gestured to the left side of the table, "and I'll start with the one's on the table. Put it into three piles. Personnel, ME mission, and creation of the unit. Sound good?"

The younger woman nodded. "Sure." The room quickly fell into silence, the only sounds the rustle of paper.

*****************

House sitting.

Well, apartment sitting, in this case.

It was something that she hated to do. Although, the owner wouldn't be gone very long so there wasn't a lot to do. It was more like...

Cat sitting.

Yeah, cat sitting.

Stacey eyed the black and white feline that had taken up residence on her lap. She was curled up into a ball on her side, purring away like there was no tomorrow. The waitress/manager couldn't understand why this little fur-ball like her so much. She had never done anything to encourage it's attentions.

Although, Ranelle had asked her to feed the cat and collect the mail, and if Ranelle had asked for the moon and a few stars, Stacey would have tried her damnedest to get them. Watching the apartment was a relatively easy task in comparison.

Actually, she had taken some time off work to actually, well, watch the house. She normally wouldn't, finding that she really enjoyed her job at Hego's as the manager and head waitress all rolled into one. Why take the time off when you could be earning money?

But as Navy Guy had recently pointed out in her, as Stacey was beginning to learn, not too subtle way, she did work a lot. Besides, there always seemed to be something to do at Ranelle' s apartment. Weather it was playing with Terkers or reading one of the many books that were stuffed in every nook and cranny. The woman had a reading addiction.

There always seemed to be something interesting on Ranelle's TV, even though Stacey got all the same channels as her. And there was always something good to eat in her fridge. She didn't know why, but her usual boredom that always came creeping up on her when she wasn't working or doing something with friends seemed to go away while at Ranelle's place.

Weird.

And everyone was busy tonight. Usually she would do something with her roommate, Ranelle's cousin, but she was on a date tonight. With Arnold, Carly's cousin.

Stacey blinked as a sudden thought came to her. 'Why does everyone in this city have cousin's with them? Not sisters or brothers, but cousins? Weird.'

Anyway, everyone was busy so she found herself with a ball of fur on her lap, the TV control in her hand, and actually having a pretty good time by herself.

Something sneezed.

Stacey looked down to be met with droopy eyes.

Well, almost by herself.

Being a native of Dallas, and having grown up with three sisters and two brothers, Stacey wasn't used to being alone for very long. That's why she had searched out a roommate several years ago when her parents had said that she could no longer live with them if she wasn't going to go to college.

Post-secondary education had never been a goal of Stacey's. She had been working at Hego's since the end of the ninth grade and was quite content to waitress. She also knew that the cafe had a problem with people only staying for a year or so and then quitting. So, Stacey deduced that if she stayed on long enough, she would eventually start moving up the food chain. She had been right. By her eighteenth birthday, Stacey was supervisor and head waitress, wanting to keep that position because she actually enjoyed it.

Four years later she was promoted to manager with a pretty good salary, more than enough to buy gas, food, and pay her half of the rent. That had been almost three years ago and she was quite content with her little niche in the world.

She had found a roommate a week after placing the ad, and she and Amanda had quickly discovered that they were very compatible. They didn't get on each other's nerves and knew when to leave the other one alone. They had a very nice apartment that was merely a five minute walk from Ranelle's and about fifteen from the cafe.

Stacey was brought from her musings by the sound of a whining cat. She looked down and noticed that Terkers had vacated her lap and was now prowling the kitchen for food. She got up and went to quell the persistent animal.

**************

By the time Shelly ambled back into their little corner of the universe they had achieved their goal. All the files were now sorted into three semi-neat piles instead of the disaster everything had been a little less than an hour ago. Dean, however, was ticked. Ranelle wasn't quite sure what had set the woman off, but she was sure it had something to do with the folder she had been scanning for the last few minutes.

The officer's face had steadily gotten colder and colder, the chiseled planes taking on a hard edge, giving the woman a very pissed off look. They had actually finished sorting 10 minutes ago, and Dean had started sifting through the personnel files making three separate piles. One of them was a lot larger than the other two, the second consisted of four folders, and in the last pile sat the files for Dean, Lt. guy, and coma guy. Ranelle realized that these nicknames were going to stick.

As Shelly came to stand at the table and looked at Dean who was so intent on the folder in her hands that she didn't even say hello, she turned and gave Ranelle a questioning look. Ranelle could only shrug. "Ah, Dean?" She started tentatively, knowing the woman was ticked and not wanting to aggravate her.

"Hmm?"

"Shelly's here."

"Just a sec." Dean squinted at the paper for a moment before pulling the glasses off her face and jamming them back into her jacket pocket where they had come from. She had pulled them out to read the headings on the files and Ranelle was pleased to see that they gave her a refined look. The small, silver, wire framed glasses simply looked good on her.

Dean tossed the folder back onto its pile with three others and sighed. She stood, stretched and then gave the other women her attention. "So, where to for lunch?"

"I was hoping you would have a suggestion." Shelly answered. They looked at Ranelle. She shrugged one shoulder,

"Don't ask me, I've never been to San Diego before. You guys are the experts."

Dean sniffed, thinking. "Is that little grill that was about 10 minutes down the road still there?" Shelly nodded. "Okay, as long as nobody has an objection to a menu that's practically all meat we'll go there. It's really good."

Everyone nodded and with that decided they trooped out of the building to the parking lot. Where they stopped for a moment, a slight dilemma on their hands. The rental car. It was, as cars go, small. "Are we all gonna fit in that thing?" Shelly voiced the exact thoughts that had been on everyone's mind. "I'm surprised you even fit in there, Dean." The officer snorted.

"I don't see why not. Someone can sit in the back seat."

Dean turned to the researcher. "Um, Ranelle? Have you even looked in that back seat? I have my seat all the way back and yours is pretty far too. I don't think there is a back seat."

The blonde blinked a few times before moving over and peering through the window. She wrinkled her nose, sighed, and turned around. "Okay, so what? Unless someone else has a car we either walk or jam ourselves into this thing." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

The officer huffed and gazed around them for a moment. Her face split into a reckless grin. "Follow me." She started off with the other women following like curious puppy dogs. When Dean stopped at a vehicle that looked suspiciously like a hummer, Ranelle and Stacey stopped and stared from their place a few feet away. "Um, I didn't think the Navy had hummers."

"We don't."

"Sooo.... it's here why?"

"Beats me."

"She wouldn't?"

"Oh, yes." Shelly grinned. "She would." They watched as Dean came up next to the sailor who was standing beside the car. She pulled out her wallet and flashed her ID. The sailor quickly straightened up and stood at attention. Ranelle chuckled slightly at the look on the young man's face. She couldn't hear what Dean was saying, but judging by the way his eyes got really wide, Ranelle knew that she would have loved to have been standing next to her friend.

"Um," Ranelle paused with a speculative look on her face, "since hummer's aren't a common thing around here, does she know how to drive one?"

Shelly shrugged. "Probably, and if she doesn't, well, it can't be that hard to figure out. It's just a car."

"Riiiighht."

The young man finally moved away and found somewhere else to stand, while Dean hopped up into the drivers seat. The two women approached slowly and she finally turned to them with a grin. "Come on. We've got a ride now."

Ranelle climbed up and sat next to Dean with Shelly securing herself in the back. "Um, Dean," the enlisted woman's voice came from the back, "how long has it been since you've driven one of these?"

Dean cocked her head and then shook it. "I don't remember."

"Okay." Ranelle glanced back at Shelly and decided that she looked slightly worried about the officer's driving skill. She was kept from commenting when Dean started the engine and she was hard pressed to hear herself think, never mind talk.

Ranelle just hoped that there wasn't much difference between driving this monstrosity and a regular car.

**************

Riding in the hummer proved to be an experience. Dean had confidence in herself and proved to be more than capable of driving the huge vehicle. When they pulled into the parking lot and hopped out, Ranelle was momentarily stunned by the silence that fell after Dean turned off the motor.

The researcher rubbed her ears and glanced over at Shelly to see her shaking her head. "I'll never get used to riding in those damn things." She muttered before stomping off to the wooden structure in front of them. Dean, Ranelle noticed, seemed to be unaffected by the noise of the car. She just moseyed into the building behind the researcher with a smile on her face.

As soon as they stepped into the grill and adjusted to the low light, Ranelle was surprised to see lots of people who were obviously in one branch of the service or another roaming around the interior. Regulation haircuts were quite distinctive and just the way the people moved and stood, ramrod straight, screamed military. Her face must have shown what she was thinking, because the tall officer leaned down to be heard over the noise. "I guess we forgot to tell you. This is something of a Navy hangout. Actually, almost anyone in the armed forces stops here if they go through San Diego."

Ranelle just nodded, instead of trying to be heard over the many different people and odd TV's scattered around. They were led to a table near the back of the room and Ranelle was amused to see Dean take a quick stroll around the table, switch one of the chairs, and then settle into the new chair. Shelly just waited until the officer had finished her ritual before sitting. It was a little quieter back here, and conversation was possible.

The shortest woman leaned in and started the ball rolling. "You still do that?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "The walk around thing?"

"Obviously."

Ranelle cleared her throat. "Someone mind filling me in?" Her green eyes darted back and forth between the other two women, waiting for an answer.

Dean wagged her head from side to side. "It's just something I got into the habit of doing. I like to see people coming and going, watch what's going on in the room." She shrugged. "It can save your life, under the right circumstances."

"Right." Her voice was slightly disbelieving.

"I'm serious."

Ranelle nodded. "Okay, why did you switch chairs."

"Yeah," Shelly chimed in, glancing at the discarded piece of furniture. "Why'd ya do that?"

The officer grinned and glance at the chair. "It would have collapsed." They just stared at her, blinking. "I'm telling you the truth. One of the legs was cracked. It would have shattered."

"And you, make a habit out of examining everything before you sit in it?" Ranelle's voice was clearly amused and Dean could tell she would start laughing soon. Shelly was doing an admirable job of holding back her grin, but she was losing the battle.

Dean scowled.

That did it. They broke into loud laughter. It sounded suspiciously close to howling to the irked officer. They finally wound down, and Dean realized that people had been laughing around her a lot lately.

She looked at them and sniffed, scowl still firmly in place. "Yeah, laugh it up. You just wait until someone comes along and sits on it. Then we'll see what you do."

Any further conversation was forestalled by a waiter coming over and taking drink orders. Dean immediately ordered a Collosal Burger that had absolutely everything on it. Shelly screwed her face up in distaste. "I can't believe you still eat those things."

Dean glanced up from the plate that had just been put in front of her. "Hey, gimme a break. I just spent the last ten months living off hospital food, with the occasional thing snuck in by Scott." She looked fully at both Shelly and Ranelle and dazzled them with a smile. "I'm entitled." With that, she brought the burger to her mouth and took a huge bite.

The trio had been so engrossed in conversation, mostly about Dean and Shelly's earlier days in the Navy, that they hadn't noticed when someone grabbed the faulty chair and sat in it. They did notice, along with everyone else, when the officer sitting in it went crashing down to the floor, all the while spewing some creative language.

Shelly and Ranelle's eyes widened and they all looked at the spot where the chair had been. It was empty, confirming that it was the one Dean had changed. They glanced at her to see a raised eyebrow and slight smirk. The two women looked at one another and then, in tandem, turned back to Dean and stuck their tongue's out. The officer started laughing and they soon followed.

Ranelle accidentally knocked her fork off the table and stood to get it, still chucking a little. The officer who had sat in the faulty chair bounced to his feet and turned toward the table where three women were sitting laughing at him. 'How dare they!'

As one of them stood he moved over and grabbed her arm, glaring down at her. She looked up at him and he didn't waste any time starting on his tirade while everyone watched warily. "Were you laughing at me girl!?" Ranelle was somewhat stunned by the rapid turn of events and just stared at the hulking man. "Were ya? Answer me!" He squeezed her arm harder and shook her a little.

Just as he was about to start in again, the man found his arm pinned behind his back and he was laying face down on a table. A low, angry voice spoke in his ear. "Didn't anyone ever tell you, that when it comes to bullies, there is always someone bigger, stronger, and tougher than you?" Dean pulled his arm up higher behind his back and the man whimpered a little bit. "No? Well there is, and you just found that person. Leave the lady alone, she wasn't laughing at you. And even if she was, you're supposed to be honorable. Going after women hardly rates honorable."

Dean released the man and backed away. He sprung up from the table and turned, his face set into angry lines. He had his mouth open as if ready to yell and then got a good look at Dean. That gave him a moments pause. But he was, as Ranelle was fast learning, a clod. He started yelling anyway.

"Listen here, woman. I've been in the Navy for eighteen years and you don't have the right to tell me what to do!"

Dean crossed her arms as she stood there and affected a bored look. She tilted her head, just slightly to the left. Ranelle winced, Dean was getting pissed. "You think so?"

He puffed up his chest with pride and announced, "Yes, I'm Lieutenant Commander Shamas and you are a simple civilian."

Shelly visibly flinched at that and then leaned in to speak to Ranelle. "Is this guy the biggest idiot on earth or something? I don't care if she's in uniform or not, but Dean will never look like a 'simple' anything. Never mind a civilian."

Ranelle nodded her agreement. "Definitely."

The man continued, digging his grave deeper and deeper with every word. "Not to mention a woman."

That did it. Dean shot forward and grabbed the front of the man's shirt, swung him around and slammed him against the support beam in the room. She actually lifted him up off the ground so they were at eye level. Ranelle was standing there shocked with her mouth hanging open. He was no lightweight.

Her voice came out laced with venom and her eyes flashed cold fire. "Listen to me you ungrateful idiot, cause I've been serving for sixteen years and met a lot of people just... like... you." She reinforced her last word by pushing the man back onto the support beam harder. "You're the type that end up getting people killed. The first thing you need to learn is when to keep your goddamn mouth shut, and the second," Dean grinned, one of her not so nice ones, "the second is to not make assumptions. I outrank you asshole, and I'm telling you to leave them alone. Got it?"

His eyes were wide and he nodded. Dean held him there, off the ground, for a few more moments before letting go and simply dropping him to the ground. She dusted her hands off and then looked around the room. Everyone was staring at her. Oh well. She turned and looked at Ranelle, "You okay?"

The researcher was still shocked at the display of brute strength and didn't answer until Shelly nudged her with her elbow. She shook her head and focused on Dean. "Yeah, I'm fine. Can we go?"

"Of course." They got three steps toward the door before a voice stopped them.

"Wait a second." The trio turned to see the male officer standing there, looking a little shaky on his feet. "I'd like to know who just picked me up off the ground and reamed me out. Especially since you claim to be of higher rank than me."

Dean snorted and the man looked like he took offense. "You really are an idiot. Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you wanna know?" He blinked a few times, seemingly at a loss for an answer. Dean shook her head and decided to be nice to the man. "Commander." She stated the word precisely and watched as his face changed. It did. It showed shock and a little bit of fear, knowing she had the power to start a chain reaction that could end his career. "Commander Dean Ransom." She gave him her full title and waited for a further reaction.

She wasn't disappointed. Her name was well know at the San Diego base, and it carried a not so nice reputation. They turned and left him standing there, not even blinking. Hardly breathing.

***************

As they made their way back out to the hummer, Ranelle glanced back at the grill many times, almost falling flat on her face. Only the steady arm on her shoulder prevented the researcher from pitching forward into the dirt parking lot. She glanced over at Shelly and smiled her thanks. The woman simply nodded.

Glancing ahead, she noticed that Dean was already seated in the hummer but had not yet started the large vehicle. Speeding up into a leisurely trot, Ranelle hopped up next to Dean and looked at her.

After a moment of staring into space, Dean glanced over at Ranelle and raised an eyebrow. Shelly had taken up residence in the back and was watching the interaction with interest. "What?"

Ranelle scratched her nose before replying. "What were you reading at the base that you were so ticked about? And what's up with those other piles you made?"

Dean rolled her shoulders around, trying to ease the stiffness that had settled there from spending most of the day sitting in one place or another. "I sorted them out into three piles. The largest being all the soldiers who I know died, followed by about four men who I don't have a clue what happened to them, and lastly, the three people I know survived."

Ranelle tilted her head, waiting for Dean to continue. "And?"

Dean's brow creased and she turned to sit sideways and look directly at the young woman beside her. "And there's stuff in those folders that I didn't know before."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I had to approve all the men in the unit before we became operational which was done mainly by reading their file and talking to some of their previous Commanding Officers." She paused for a moment, thinking. "There was this one guy who I never really wanted in the unit. There wasn't anything on him, it was just a gut feeling. But now, there are a whole bunch of things in his file. Complaints filed against him by other officers, disciplinary orders by former CO's, things that date way, way back." She shook her head and shrugged.

"I don't get it. So someone tampered with his file in the last little while?"

"No," Ranelle turned to look at the woman sitting behind them, "someone tampered with his file two years ago. Because they wanted him in Dean's unit and knew he wouldn't have been chosen with a track record like that." Dean nodded her head, agreeing with the statement.

"So, if you had a bad feeling about him, why did you approve it?"

"The guy was an awesome marksman, something of a sniper. It was something that I felt we should have in the unit, but you have to understand. What we did, it was a very, very high risk job. You had to volunteer to be in the unit and you could back out at any time while in the states. Finiding someone with sniper skills is hard enough in the Navy, it isn't something that is really taught to regular soldiers. And even if I had found someone else, they would have had to agree. So, I brought him on figuring I'd keep a close eye on him and if we were even in a bind for a sniper I could always do it."

"If you know how to sniper then why couldn't you have always done it?"

"Being a sniper requires a lot of waiting and patience. If you need to use one for a mission they will more than likely spend all that time hiding in the bushes waiting for the target." Dean shook her head, "I can't direct my men like that. If it was critical I'd do it, there were a few guys I trusted enough to take command. Snipers are always like an ace-in-the-hole."

"How?"

Dean smiled, "I'm getting there. Lets say you storm a building and want to catch a certain individual. Catching them is so critical that if it's a last resort, killing them is acceptable. So, something goes wrong and he bolts from the building. The sniper shoots him down and it's all good because he didn't get away. Or if the team is in the building a sniper can pick anyone off who may enter the building unexpectedly."

Ranelle nodded her head. "Ok, I understand. So, this guys file, what did it say? Besides all the complaints and whatnot."

"Deceased." Dean paused a moment. "They all said deceased. Every... single... one. According to the files, three people survived the middle east. That's it." Dean was staring out the front of the hummer again, her eyes narrowed and an almost livid look taking over her features.

The other two women just sat there, letting Dean think things through in her head. After several minutes, she shook her head and asked if they were ready to go back to the base. They agreed.

The drive back was just as uneventful as the one to the grill. Until they came to the gate. The guard with the red rimmed eyes, who had let them out with the hummer with no questions asked, was off duty. The current guard seemed to be in good health and had a very grumpy look on his face. He had almost no neck and his head was shaped almost into a rectangle. It was very amusing.

He looked up at Dean and just stared at her, not moving to open the gate. Dean was not in the mood, however. "Listen buddy, you see this hummer? It came from this base. Which means I had to go in there first so I could drive it out. And if you had any brain at all, you would realize what that means. That we are all permitted to enter the base. Are you following me?"

No response.

A low, throaty growled started and Shelly jumped from the back of the hummer and stood in front of the guard before Dean could lunge through the little window it and strangle the man. "Ok, um," Shelly glanced at his name tag, "Stephens. Listen, my friend here is in a really bad mood. I mean really bad. I've been serving with her for almost 15 years, and in that time, I've only seen her this ticked twice before." Shelly leaned close, almost whispering, and the guard leaned in to hear her better. "The Lieutenant that got in her way was sniveling like a baby when she got done with him. The second time it was on board a ship and the ensign," she lowered her voice even more, "was thrown half way across the deck and was ready to jump overboard right in the middle of the pacific! If you know what's good for you, you'll open the gate. She's a Commander and could have you busted down to a seamen in no time flat."

Shelly didn't even wait for a reply, she simply turned and climbed back into the hummer. The guard opened the gate the second Dean started glaring at him again and was extremely thankful to be free of her blue regard.

Dean was livid. "Damn stupid guards. I'll have to start wearing my stinking khaki's if I ever come up here again." Ranelle just sat and listened to Dean's grumbling voice that was hardly audible over the engine.

**********

The rest of the afternoon was spent in relative silence, with Dean and Ranelle sitting quietly in their little room. Ranelle spent her time soaking up the information about the unit and learning as much about their purpose and operations as possible. She wasn't sure, but Dean just seemed to be sitting there fuming. The officer hadn't picked up a single folder since returning to the base and was staring off into space.

Ranelle figured she was thinking something through in her head and that assumption was validated when she lunged forward and started sifting through papers, obviously looking for something in particular. "What's up?"

Dean looked up for a moment, "Uh? Oh, I think I remember seeing a cross-reference in the sniper's file to another one.... Ah, yes, here it is!" Dean scooped up the file and stood, pausing for a moment to slip on her glasses. She spent a moment looking through the papers and then went off towards the file cabinets.

Ranelle watched curiously as Dean seemingly meandered aimlessly through the room, finally stopping at a cabinet to her liking. After a solid minute of rifling through the contents, she emerged triumphant.

Dean moved back towards the table with a large grin covering her face, her good mood restored. "What ya got?"

"This," she hefted the new file, "is Lieutenant Commander Herga's previous military folder. He is an ex-SEAL and got into a heap of trouble, it seems. Thing is, he was just so damn good that they would rather have him still kicking around than kicking him out with a dishonorable discharge. Idiots."

Ranelle was confused. She shook her head. "He was so good at what?"

Dean looked up and locked glances with Ranelle. They stared at each other for a moment before Dean pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. "In a nutshell? Killing."

"Wa... what do you mean!?"

"He was really good at killing someone and getting away with it. Especially with a sniper. Although he's good with bombs, all guns, hand-to-hand combat... all that kind of stuff."

"An assassin?" It came out as a bear whisper and Dean almost thought she hadn't heard it. Almost.

"Not... exactly. He wasn't exclusively an assassin but it was mostly what he was, is, used for."

"What do you mean is? I thought he was dead."

Dean sniffed and dropped her glance. "Ranelle, I hate to tell you this, but someone out there doesn't want the world to know what really happened. The papers said there were four survivors, the Navy says three, I'm betting if we call your uncle he'll say the fourth guy was Herga. I was thinking about the entire mission and I have a few suspicions, nothing concrete, but there is one thing that I'm absolutely sure of."

The officer paused and Ranelle was sure it was just to torture her some more. "And that is?"

"That, officially, no one was supposed to come out of there alive."

"What! Wh... Dean... that's.... why do you think that?"

The tall officer shrugged, and turned in a tight circle before starting to pace the room. "A lot of things. The manipulation of the files, being told there were three survivors when there were four, your attack, and the entire set up over in the middle east, now that I think about it, was very poor. We didn't have a lot of fire power or protection, faulty intel., late reports from the satellites that were supposed to alert us to movements of the enemy.... it was all just.. bad. Right from the start I had a bad feeling so I had my men be extra vigilant, more patrols, more training, more watchmen." She shook her head and continued pacing. "But it didn't matter. It didn't matter at all. Everything just went crazy...." She trailed off and stopped in the middle of the room, rubbing her face roughly with her hand.

Ranelle could tell that she was remembering something awful, something that she would rather erase from her mind completely. Ranelle was surprised that Dean hadn't yet broken down from post-traumatic stress. It dawned on Ranelle that Dean had managed to lock the memories away before and was always doing something in the hospital. Just recently she had started remembering things and the researcher knew that it was going to get a hell of a lot worse before it got better.

"We have to find him." Dean's voice was decisive and determined. Ranelle looked up at the officer and Dean stared right back. "He had something to do with everything going bad. I know it. I don't remember seeing him when things started going wrong." Dean shook her head and dropped back into her chair. "I have to talk to Cooper, too." Her eyes narrowed. "He better not have had anything to do with this."

Dean stood up and grabbed three folders off the table. "Come on."

Ranelle didn't question Dean's order, she simply snatched her jacket and trotted after the officer. She followed Dean's tall form out of the back room, right by Shelly, and out of the records room. They traveled down a set of hallways and finally came to a stop outside an office.

A large desk was parked to the right of the door and a middle aged man in fatigues was sitting there writing. Dean walked up to the desk and stood there, waiting. The man at the desk didn't even raise his head when he said, "Please have a seat and I'll..."

Dean cut him off impatiently. "Is Cooper in?"

The man glanced up sharply at the interruption and then his eyes went wide. "Oh my." That's all he managed to get out before the perturbed officer spoke again.

"I don't have time for this Jemson. I need to see Cooper, is he here?"

The seated man managed to regain some of his composure and immediately sat up straighter and dropped his pen, giving Dean all his attention. "I'm not sure ma'am. I'll go check for you."

He jumped up from his wooden chair and marched over to the door Ranelle was standing in front of. He disappeared behind the panel for a few moments and then reemerged. "I'm sorry ma'am, but Admiral Cooper is out of town and will be for several more days."

"Do you know where he went?" He shook his head. "Okay." Dean turned to go and Ranelle followed suit, almost running into the solid back when the officer stopped suddenly. She turned her head to the side and said, "It's good to see you again, James."

James smiled, Ranelle could hear it in his voice. "Thank-you. I'm glad that you're all right Dean."

Dean simply nodded and continued on her way out of the room. Ranelle followed and they didn't stop until they found themselves standing in front of their small car. Dean folded herself into the interior and Ranelle jumped behind the wheel. "Where are we going?"

"To a motel. Leave here, turn right, and drive for about ten minutes."

The small car progresses out through the gate and down the road, stopping in front of a modest looking building soon after. Ranelle hopped out and walked around the car, arriving at the other side just as Dean managed to pry herself out.

"What are those?" The researcher gestured at the files in Dean's hand.

"Oh, they're my files, Herga's file, and the main unit file. I figured you might want to look at these and I'm not sure if we'll be going back to the base. Come on."

Ranelle was confused, but she was content to follow Dean and wait until the officer was ready to explain on her own terms. Arriving at the desk, they were greeted by a young teenager who rented a room out to them immediately and gave them brief directions.

The room was on the second floor, and Ranelle was pleased to see that although the outside wasn't the nicest she had ever see, the interior was commendable. It was clean, intact, and didn't smell. There weren't any bugs and the air conditioning was working well.

Ranelle looked up and noticed they were standing outside their room. Dean opened the door and threw her files down on the table that was directly to the right of the door. As the blonde woman moved in, she surveyed the room.

It was roughly a large rectangle, with the door at one end and a balcony at the other. Besides the table, there was a small love seat and TV halfway between the door and balcony, with another door behind it to the right. Glancing in, Ranelle saw a medium sized bed with a dresser, and another door leading to a bathroom.

"Um, Dean?" The dark head peeked around the doorway into the bedroom. She raised an eyebrow. "Did you consider this?" Ranelle gestured to the bed.

"Yes?"

Ranelle looked back to see Dean looking back and forth between the bed and her companion, obviously not grasping what Ranelle had noticed. "Never mind, Dean. Ddon't worry about it right now."

She shrugged. "Okay." The officer turned and went back out into the main room, followed quickly by Ranelle. She found her seated at the large, circular table. Ranelle plopped into the chair across from Dean and waited.

"Here. It's my file, I thought you might want to see it." Ranelle took the folder and set in down in front of her. "That's everything since I first enlisted, which is why it's so big. I only ask that you don't tell me what's in there."

"Why?"

Dean looked up and adjusted her position in the chair. "I have never looked at my own file. I never looked at the results for all the different tests that I had to take over the years. I didn't look because I didn't want to know and I still don't."

"Why? You mean things like the IQ tests you had to take and all those other ones that assess your skills and stuff?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand. Most people would be proud, hell, most people would brag. Surley you have some idea what the results were like."

Dean reached up and rubbed the scar at her temple, planting her elbows on the table. "I don't like tests like that cause I don't like categorizing people with results. Standazdized tests can be so off it's scary. I'd rather not know. And yes, I have some idea about the results. I know that something was high enough to kick up a big stink and make a whole bunch of organizations want to recruit me." She shrugged. "But that's all I know. If you have any questions about events or anything that's fine. But I don't wanna know about test results. Okay?"

"Alright, I can live with that."

It only seemed like a few minutes, but when Ranelle raised her head when Dean started to stand she was shocked to see that an hour and a half had gone by. She was unable to refocus on the file in her hand when a muffled groan reached her ears. Glancing up sharply, she caught the quickly concealed pain on the officers face. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"I'm fine."

Ranelle kept her eyes on the woman, not believing her for an instant. When Dean took a step and immediately sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, Ranelle had had enough. The researcher jumped up and moved toward the taller woman.

"Dean come on, this is ridiculous."

"Ranelle I'm..."

"You're still not up to 100 percent and ready to fall over. Let me help you. Please?" Dean simply nodded.

Ranelle didn't waste any time in going over to Dean's left side and helping to support her on her stiffened legs on the short journey to the love seat. As soon as they were standing in front of it, Dean practically collapsed. She spread out as much as possible and seemed to become almost boneless.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

The dark head raised and she seemed to be struggling with her pride before responding. "Yeah. There's a cream type thing in my bag. Could you get it for me?"

"Sure."

Ranelle walked over to the door and grabbed the black duffel that had been dumped there along with her own small bag. She carried it back to the love seat and started searching the pocket that Dean indicated.

"Ah-ha!" She raised the rectangular bottle in the air in triumph and grinned. "Here you go."

"Thanks." Dean took the cream and then sat there for a few moments with her brow scrunched and a faint scowl on her face. Ranelle stood back a little bit and watched, having a pretty good idea what the problem was and letting Dean make the decision on her own. "Could you... um.." Dean shook the bottle slightly and stared at the floor.

"I'd be glad to give you a hand." She said it quietly, knowing that accepting help was something that Dean didn't do often, or very well. Running her eyes quickly down the long legs on the floor Ranelle noticed another snag. "Um, you might want to put something other than jeans on... it'll make it easier."

Dean sighed. "Yep, you're right." She leaned forward and grabbed the duffel from the floor, pulling out a pair of boxers. Dean glanced up and saw Ranelle just entering the bathroom.

By the time the younger woman emerged Dean had managed to shuck her pants, shoes, socks and was semi-comfortable on the small couch. Ranelle kneeled on the floor to Dean's left and took the bottle.

"So, what does this stuff do?"

Dean scratched her chin and shrugged. "Not sure. I think it's a muscle relaxant and it's supposed to help the burns. All I know is that it works really well."

"Okay, what do I have to do. There aren't any instructions."

"Shake it up, squeeze some onto your hands and then rub them together. Then you just massage it into my legs." The broad shoulders shrugged again. "It's really simple. Focus on the back of my left leg and the outside of my right. That's where it's the worst."

The blonde head bobbed and she started her task, massaging the orange cream into the long limbs. While she worked, Ranelle took the opportunity to survey the scars, comparing them to the ones on her back. The left leg was, undeniably, the site of the worst damage followed by her right leg. Ranelle realized with startlingly clarity that the burns on her back were very mild compared to these.

Granted, they were all third degree and serious in their own way but the twisted and angry skin looked ten times worse than the skin on her back. Dean was lucky, she guessed, for if her back had been this badly damaged she may have had serious complications with moving in general instead of just walking.

The front of the long limbs looked fairly normal, but on the sides and back the scar tissue was painfully obvious. Ranelle briefly wondered if it bothered the officer... having all the marks on her body. She figured that it would bother most people but Dean didn't seem vain at all, and the scars weren't exactly in the most visible places.

As she finished up rubbing in the foul smelling medication Ranelle looked up to see Dean half asleep. She mumbled her gratitude and Ranelle smiled, covering her from the waist down with a blanket. Pausing, Ranelle hesitantly reached forward and brushed a lock of dark hair back from her face.

******************

Food.

The intoxicating aroma penetrated her senses and slowly nudged her mind into working order. She ascended from a deep and blissfully uneventful sleep to the smell of delicious, scrumptious, and absolutely heavenly food.

Fast food.

Greasy, unhealthy, high calorie fast food.

Yummy!

Dean's eyes popped open and she sat up from her reclined position on the couch. Glancing around she spotted a paper bag sitting on the table. Beside that was a bent blonde head and it was obvious that Ranelle was engrossed in the files.

After pulling herself up from the couch Dean padded over to the table. Ranelle glanced up and smiled. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean crocked, her voice still rough from sleep.

"I ran to the place across the street. I figured you would be hungry when you woke up. Here." Ranelle handed the bag to the tall woman who snatched it up and plopped down into the chair across from the blonde.

"Thanks." She ripped open the bag and started pulling things out and unwrapping them. "Hey, my favorite! How'd you know?"

Ranelle dropped her files and leaned back, watching the officer consume the burger. "After your comment about hospital food and seeing you eat at lunch time, I took a giant leap and bought the most loaded and unhealthy thing they had. Guess I did well."

The officer nodded her head vigorously, her mouth too full to speak. Ranelle smiled and slid a drink container towards the woman. "Chocolate shake."

"Fmank mouf."

"Welcome."

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes while Dean munched and Ranelle watched bemusedly. After seeing the quantity of food that the officer could consume on many different occasions Ranelle had bought two hamburgers and a large thing of fires.

"How often can you eat hamburgers?"

Blue eyes glanced up and Dean took a moment to swallow before answering. "Believe me, if you had to survive on that crud they give you in hospitals you'd be ready to eat them for several days straight."

"I bet." Ranelle paused for a moment and then started again, hesitantly. "I... um, called my uncle while you were sleeping. And he.... confirmed what you thought... about Herga. That was the fourth name." Ranelle looked up at the other woman. The dark head nodded. "But I've also been wondering, doesn't the Navy control what was released. I mean, if they say this guy's dead how did the papers get the information to say otherwise."

Dean shrugged. "A leak, an informant, eavesdropping, someone just hearing something they weren't supposed to.... I could go on. What we need, is to see whoever got the info. and printed it out. They might have other useful knowledge. All I want to know is why the disaster happened and if we weren't supposed to come back, for what." Dean sighed and shook her head again. "All I want is a reason for all the death."

The officer stood and shuffled into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Ranelle briefly considered going after her but decided that she needed time. Time to come to terms with this and sort out her feelings.

Just some time.

**************

Evening rolled around and Ranelle decided that she would turn in. She glanced up at the love seat where Dean had sprawled herself after emerging from the bathroom some time ago. She hadn't moved and didn't seem to be doing much at all. Ranelle herself had been voraciously consuming Dean's personnel file.

The file itself managed to say a lot without really saying much at all. It was intriguing and frustrating at the same time. The knowledge she did acquire was useful and things that the researcher had wanted to know but the things it hinted at being left unsaid were driving her nuts.

"Hey Dean!" Her voice broke the thick silence and the officer lazily rolled her head over to one side and pried open a blue eyeball.

"Yes?"

"What else is there to know that isn't in this?" She hefted the thick folder and tilted her head with a smile.

"I dunno... what's in it?" Dean shifted and settled herself in a more comfortable position, at least Ranelle assumed it was comfortable although it looked anything but. Dean had her legs swung over one end of the small love seat and her left arm hanging off the top while her other arm was touching the floor. Her dark head was on the arm rest and it appeared as if she were lying not on her back but not her side, either. The officer settled herself in to listen.

"Well.." Ranelle cleared her throat and spoke, "aside from the variety of test scores you don't wanna know, there's your enlistment date, reviews from a couple C.O'.s, training reports, a few places you were stationed at and those dates, a few other dates that are classified, um... lets see. The dates that you took your leave and the times you were in the hospital for a multitude of different things, a list of when you got your promotions.... very impressive if I do say so myself. And, a list of awards and commendations you received... also impressive. Oh, and some brief summaries of missions you were involved in that were not classified."

There was a long pause and then the sound of a deeply drawn breath. "Not much more to know, really. Nothing worth telling... I guess you'll just have to stick around if you want to find out." Dean looked over and smile at Ranelle.

"I just might do that." Ranelle smiled and stood, stretching out her back after the long day. "I'm gonna hit the hay. What about you?"

For an answer, Dean rolled up off the couch and shook out her arms and legs. She bobbed her head and meandered off to the bathroom, scooping up her bag on the way. When she emerged, Ranelle promptly took over the bathroom.

When she came out it was to find the tall officer leaning up against the door frame to the bedroom and staring quizzically at the bed. Ranelle padded over and she, too, stood looking in. "Um..." the deep rumble that came from behind her stopped and she turned to face indigo eyes.

"What?"

"How is this gonna work?" Dean gestured to the bed and then the two of them.

"Well, I figured that we can share the bed. I mean, it's not a huge bed but I don't think that either of us will fit on that love seat very well. Actually, I know you don't and after seeing you lay all over it today I'm pretty sure I won't like it much." Ranelle looked up and grinned. "It was quite entertaining to see you contort yourself to fit that thing. Although it made my muscles ache." Ranelle mock shuddered and then walked over to the bed. She glanced back and waved Dean over. "Come on, it's not the end of the world. I'm sure you've managed in worse situations than this before."

Dean walked over and gently lowered her form onto one side of the bed. It tilted and creaked under her weight. It took several minutes but Dean was finally stretched out on the bed with her feet hanging off the end. Ranelle crawled into her side and turned out the bedside lamp.

"Night Dean."

"Night."

They drifted off to slumber after a short time later and just before sleep claimed her, Dean experienced a sense of what could only be described as.... peace. For the first time in a long time.

Part 3

Waking up in a strange room in a strange bed is always an interesting experience as your mind rises from its resting state and slowly registers that the body it commands is not in its usual habitat.

The different sounds and smells of this new place slowly penetrate your brain and it scrambles to remember exactly where you are and why you're there. This process only takes a second or two and then your head clears and you remember.

However, when you wake up in a strange place with the added surprise of finding someone else in the bed with you, your brain goes on red alert and you jerk awake, delaying or often stopping this natural waking process all together.

This was the situation that Dean found herself in now. She had woken to find herself wrapped around Ranelle like an octopus and after surveying her position decided that there was no way she could extract herself without waking the young blonde. She also noted, with some relief, that their current state of entanglement was not entirely her doing. Ranelle had her own limbs as twisted up as she herself did. Ranelle's left hand was grasping the front of Dean's shirt over her stomach.

So, after confirming that her internal clock had not failed and that it was indeed somewhere around 5 in the morning, Dean decided to stay where she was until the blonde awoke. She vaguely remembered a comment coming from the young woman, or had in been Stacey, about Ranelle not being a morning person. She knew she wouldn't fall back asleep so the officer decided to wait it out.

Ranelle woke slowly some time later to find herself comfortably inclosed in a nice warm cocoon. Her mind slowly woke and green, sleepy eyes opened to be met by blue. Ranelle's brow scrunched up as she took stock of her position. She was surrounded, literally, by Dean. Her long arms were tangled up around Ranelle's body with the left trapped under the blond's back. Ranelle had her head half on Dean's broad shoulder with her left leg wound between Dean's shins. She noticed the grip she had on Dean's poor shirt and pursed her lips before looking back up, sheepishly.

They were a tangled mass of comfortable, living, and slightly embarrassed humanity.

"Hey, morning."

Dean cocked her head and answered in her low, accented voice. "Good morning."

"You.." Ranelle paused to clear her throat, "are wayyyy too cheery. How long have you been up?"

"Hmm. Since 5... so, about 4 hours."

Ranelle groaned and closed her eyes. "That's disgusting. Why are you still here?"

"Didn't want to wake you up. Speaking of which, my arm's cramping up..."

"Oh, sorry." Ranelle released the officer's shirt and untangled her arms, sitting up followed by a smiling Dean.

The officer rolled her neck around followed by her shoulders. Ranelle winced at the audible cracking of bones. "Ugh, that sounds horrible."

"Yeah." Dean slid out of bed and walked around the room for a moment with Ranelle watching.

"How're your legs?"

"Pretty good. I'm gonna take a shower, 'kay?"

"Sure, I'll be here."

"I'm sure you will be." Dean looked back over her shoulder and smiled.

****************

After emerging from the bathroom and her turn with the shower, Ranelle found Dean sitting at the table in the main room, seemingly waiting for her. She settled herself in the chair across from the older woman and waited. "I've been thinking and I want to use you as a sounding board. Hear my theory out loud and see what you think of it." Dean glanced up at the blonde woman.

"Shoot."

"Ok, here it goes. You remember when I said that I thought they never wanted us to come back." Dean saw the other woman nod and continued. "Well, whatever the reason for that was it didn't happen on the ME mission or anytime soon before that. I think whatever we saw or did that we weren't supposed to, happened before the Special Ops unit was even created. I had worked with quite a few of the others before and it could have been any of six different missions that I remember. But three of those were totally on the level and nothing stands out about them, so I've basically narrowed it down to three."

"Ok... and?"

"We need to find out which mission, what happened that would make them want us dead, and warn whoever else might be in danger."

"How do you propose we do that, Great Naval Officer? We're pretty much in the dark here, Dean."

Dean raised on eyebrow at the nickname then nodded. She stood up and started pacing. "Yeah. We should speak to Bronce... see what he thinks about the whole situation. Not to mention that he figured prominently in all three missions under suspicion." The officer continued to pace, thinking.

Ranelle spoke up, "It might help if we could find whoever originally got the information about the number of survivors. They may have heard other interesting tidbits."

"How are we gonna do that, Great Insightful Reporter?" Dean returned the tease with ease.

Ranelle pursed her lips in thought and smiled. "I have my ways." The smile transformed into a grin.

"Right. Well you can do that later. We should leave... I'm not comfortable here. We'll go see Bronce. You up to it?"

She nodded. "Sure. I'll start packing."

***************

Airplanes are such a great invention. They can take you anywhere you want to go in a matter of hours, depending on how far it is you want to travel.

They did have their drawbacks, though. Even in first class.

Both women were glad to be off the plane, the flight to Portland having been unpleasant to say the least. A shaky plane and an obnoxious, drunk aisle mate having given Ranelle a headache. She couldn't understand why they allowed people to drink on planes. Although, this fellow had already been plastered before boarding.

It had really bothered Dean, she could tell. The woman had sat in stoic silence through the entire flight staring at the seat in front of her. Her fists had been clenched and Ranelle was convinced she was just barley restraining herself from decking the rude man.

But they were now rid of that headache and had arrived safely in Oregon.

Before leaving San Diego Dean had done some quick checking simply for her own piece of mind, ensuring herself that Lt. Bronce was still living under the same address as in the past. He was indeed.

They progressed through the airport and caught a cab, arriving at the Lt.'s home in short order.

"Thanks a lot," Ranelle smiled as she paid the cabbie.

The duo turned to be greeted by a medium sized, yellow, squatting house. There was a thin layer of snow covering the ground, the winter being very mild this year. They walked up to the house and rung the bell. "So what happens if no one's home?"

Dean glanced around and shrugged, "We wait. Besides," nodding toward the driveway, "the car's here."

Any answer was delayed by the opening of the door. Standing in the portal was a dark skinned, older woman with coifed hair and gentle brown eyes. She glanced at Ranelle first then at Dean. Her perusal of the taller woman lasted longer as she squinted her eyes and stared openly. After several long, silent seconds of thinking she exclaimed, "Santo Cielo Decano! E' bello rivederti." She stepped outside the house and onto the porch, wrapping her arms around the officer.

"It is good to see you too, amico." The older lady smiled up to Dean and then looked between them briefly.

"Come, come inside and you will introduce me to your new amico."

She led them inside to the kitchen, offered them coffee and food and then promptly bellowed for her son. From what she knew of different languages Ranelle figured that Lt. Bronce and his mother, as was mentioned during introductions, were Italian. Mrs. Bronce's accented English was also similar to Dean's.

The man who came trotting into the kitchen paused and a huge grin transformed his face immediately upon seeing just who it was sitting at his kitchen table. Dean stood and they shared a hearty, emotional hug. When they pulled away it was obvious that Bronce was choked up and that Dean had no idea what to say.

They stood staring at one another for several moments and then simply smiled, sharing their mutual joy at seeing the other alive and well. The two officers glanced around the room and Bronce's eyes landed on Ranelle. "Well, who do we have here?"

"Ah, um, this is a friend of mine, Ranelle Maloch."

Bronce walked up to the blonde woman and held out his hand. She grasped it and returned the handshake. "It is a pleasure to meet you If you're associated with Dean then you must be an incredible person."

Ranelle smiled and blushed slightly. "Thank-you, Lt. Bronce."

"Please, call me Anthony."

The foursome sat around the table with the two officers catching up and Ranelle getting to know these people who seemed to have had a large influence in Dean's life. After the chatting wound down, Dean extended an invitation to Anthony to go for a walk. Sensing that Dean wanted to discuss something important, he accepted.

Ranelle was left alone with Mrs. Bronce. "So, Mrs. Bronce.."

"Please call me Carmen, dear." Ranelle nodded, smiled, and struck up a hearty conversation.

****************

"Which way?" Blue eyes glanced down at the man beside her.

"Left, so the wind's at our backs."

Dean nodded and started walking, deciding where she wanted to start. 'This has got to be one of the craziest stories in the world. I'm not sure that I even believe it.' The tall officer shook her head and decided to jump right in at the beginning of the entire mess.

"Anthony, I've got something rather important to tell you. It's kind of hard to believe, too."

"Come on Dean... out with it."

"Ranelle was given the assignment of reporting what happened on the ME mission. Soon after that she was attacked in the parking lot of the magazine officer where she works. What I was told and what was printed in the papers about the mission conflict. Especially about who survived. I came to the conclusion that someone never wanted us to come back because of something that a lot of us saw on another mission. I checked, and there are three missions before the Special Ops team was formed that eight people went on who were also in the Middle East with us. You and I went on all three and we are the only ones who survived." Dean stopped speaking and waited for some kind of response.

Anthony's forehead creased, he looked more than skeptical. "You do realize that would mean there are people involved who are pretty high up in the Navy, right?"

"Yes."

"Have you spoken to Cooper?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, "He wasn't in San Diego."

"You think he's involved?"

"God I hope not, but until I know more I'm not crossing him off the list."

"Um, one thing doesn't make much sense. If the Navy wants what happened over there covered up because it was manufactured by them, why would they let Ranelle report on it?"

"It isn't necessarily the Navy that wants it covered up, just someone or a small group of people in the Navy. They probably want to cover up something they have their hands in that they really shouldn't."

"Something that we stumbled upon?"

Dean nodded.

"You do realize how unreal this whole thing is, don't you? We're talking about some kind of conspiracy in the United States Navy." Anthony shook his dark head. "Things like this aren't supposed to happen."

They continued walking in silence for a few blocks. "So what do you think? You going to help me. If I'm right it isn't safe for you, me or Ranelle."

Anthony rubbed his forehead, squinted his eyes and stopped walking. He turned and looked at his friend and former commanding officer. "You really believe this?" Dean nodded. "Okay, I'm not saying that I'm buying everything you've said just yet but whatever you need, I'm here."

"Good. I'm going to need..." Dean stopped talking and cocked her head.

"What?"

"You smell that? Smoke."

The two officers turned and looked back the way they had come. Rising up into the sky was a large plume of black smoke. They didn't even bother to look at one another, just took off running back toward the squatting yellow house.

They skidded to a halt outside the flame engulfed building. It looked as if the fire had started at the top of the house and was working its way down. Dean spotted an onlooker nearby and went over to the man. "Did you see two women come out of there?" He shook his head no.

"Damn it!"

Dean ran up to the front of the house with Anthony right behind. She kicked in the door and pulled her shirt up over her mouth and nose. With a quick glance at Anthony, Dean ran into the house and headed for the kitchen, her friend right behind.

When Dean reached the kitchen she frantically scanned the floor and immediately moved toward the leg she could just barely see through the smoke. She kneeled down next to Ranelle to see that the reporter was unconscious but otherwise unscathed.

Dean's eyes were stinging from the smoke and were starting to water, making it almost impossible to see. It was getting unbearably hot and she could here the ominous creaking of the ceiling above her. It was getting ready to collapse.

Throwing Ranelle over her shoulder, Dean turned to see that Anthony had found his mother and was on his way out of the kitchen as well. As soon as she entered the hallway, Dean heard a loud cracking and jumped forward, avoiding the large beam that came crashing down from above.

The officer tripped and found herself on the hot floor with the flames approaching ever faster. Just as she was about to stand up, Dean got the strangest feeling of danger and simply went with her instincts. She covered Ranelle up with her own body and wrapped her long arms around her head as the ceiling continued to rain debris on her.

Dean closed her eyes and tensed up, hoping that nothing heavy would decided to land on her. She opened her stinging eyes to mere slits to check on Ranelle and saw that the young woman was still out cold. The smoke was starting to get to her, making it hard to breath. She could feel sweat running down her back and the side of her face from the unbearable heat.

As she crouched there, in a burning house, Dean experienced a moment of pure terror and a bloody field flashed through her mind, filled with laughing men and one face in particular. One laughing, glee filled face. The officer flinched as something landed on her back and rolled off, bringing her out of the memory.

Dean tried to relax for a moment but that is almost impossible to do when you're in a house which happens to be on fire and the possibility of death is looming over your head.

Waiting a few more seconds, the feeling of danger subsided along with the one of absolute terror and Dean stood slowly, picking Ranelle up and cradling her like a child. She figured this was safer in case anything else decided to fall from above.

Cautiously picking her way through the flames and mindful of her cargo, Dean was relieved to see the door directly in front of her. She could just barely make out Anthony's from standing on the lawn outside, staring anxiously into the house.

They were going to make it. They were going to be all right.

**************

Anthony emerged with his mother in his arms and looked back, horrified to see the ceiling collapse with Dean nowhere in sight.

The fire department had still not arrived and Anthony would have run back into the house except his mother came around at that moment. The young man kneeled on the ground not caring about the layer of snow, saying nonsense phrases in their native language. He kept his eyes glued to the house, willing the tall officer to emerge.

'Come on Dean, you can't let a little fire stop you now!'

Assured that his mother would be fine and at her insistence, Anthony stood and ventured closer to the house. He peered into the wall of smoke, hoping to see a large moving form and almost convincing himself he could see one.

He was just about to turn and go back to his mother when a large body came leaping out of the smoke and landed on the brown grass and snow. Antony hurried over and took Ranelle from Dean, who was on all fours, hacking and coughing.

"Come on, we have to get away from the house."

Slwoly, the large body stood and moved over to where Carmen was sitting. Dean collapsed next to her and laid back on the snow, wheezing. The cold snow felt good on her overheated skin,

Anthony placed Ranelle gently on the ground and then leaned over Dean. "You okay?"

The dark head rolled toward the voice. Dean opened her eyes and looked at the man above her. "Just peachy." Her voice was raspy and Anthony winced at the painful looking bloodshot eyes. "You?"

He nodded. "We're good."

"Wonderful." She looked over at Ranelle and let a small smile come to her lips as Ranelle groaned and opened her eyes. The first thing she did after that was cough.

They all smelled of smoke, were covered liberally with soot, and drenched in sweat. But they were alive and that made all the difference in the world.

Eight sets of eyes framed by soot covered faces looked toward the road as a large fire truck came careening around the corner and stopped in front of the house.

Anthony glared at the truck, "Where the hell were they when we needed them!?"

Dean simply closed her eyes and shook her head.

Ranelle groaned, coughed, and rubbed her aching head.

Carmen seemed to have found the humor in the situation and started laughing.

The remainder of the day was going to be very interesting, indeed.

***************

Smoke inhalation.

The ambulance came, diagnosed them all with smoke inhalation, Ranelle's and Dean's more severe, and then carted them off to the hospital.

That's where they were now.

Smoke inhalation.

What a stupid thing to be taken to the hospital for.

Oh, they all understood how serious smoke inhalation could be, but still....

Hosoitalized for smoke inhalation???

"Uh-uh, no way, no how! I'm not spending the night here! Not gonna happen!" Dean was livid, it was as simple as that.

The doctors wanted to keep Ranelle and Dean overnight for observation. Anthony and Carmen were allowed to leave but they weren't.

Ranelle understood. As did Carmen and Anthony.

The doctors, however, did not. All they saw was a difficult patient who was currently wasting their time and acting absolutely irrationally, some might even say childish.

"Please, ma'am, we have to treat you..."

"Oh, you can treat me all right, but there is no way I'm staying here." Dean was standing outside a hospital room with a doctor, two nurses, Ranelle and Anthony. This last statement was followed by a round of coughing.

The doctor glared, "But you both have to stay here."

"Why? Am I going to drop dead if I let you treat me with oxygen and then walk out the door? Hmm?"

"Well, probably not, it's simply a cautionary..."

"There you go. So get those tanks of 02 so we can get this over with and I can leave."

The doctor made a hurrmph sound and turned on his heel. The nurses started shooing the three of them out of the hallway and into the room where Carmen was waiting patiently. As soon as the tall officer entered all the different smells combined, along with the sight of the beds and machinery, caused her to experience a moment of panic.

Dean stopped and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, surprised when she could do so without coughing, and focusing on the fact that she was not lying in a hospital bed and could leave at any moment.

"Dean?" The soft hesitant voice penetrated her mind and helped to comfort her. "Are you all right?" Ranelle moved closer and laid her blackened hand lightly on top of the officers. She was rewarded with a slight squeeze and almost imperceptible head nod.

Anthony stepped up next to Ranelle and gave his friend a worried look. His speech was stopped by the entrance of the annoying doctor and his entourage of nurses. All three medical personnel gave the dark haired woman funny glances.

The doctor approached Dean and none too gently put his hand on her arm. Dean's entire body jerked as her eyes popped open. The doctor soon found his arm locked in an iron grip. Ranelle stepped closer, concerned about her friend. She took in the clenched jaw and almost rigid body and decided to tread lightly.

"Come on, Dean. Let go of the doctor. He's just trying to help you." She carefully reached up and placed her hand on Dean's arm. Slowly, the arm relaxed and the officer's eyes closed. Dean released the doctor and leaned against the wall. She slid down until she was sitting on the ground with her head resting on her upraised knees.

The shaken doctor decided to let Ranelle handle this strange and difficult woman. He left the room rather perturbed.

With some assistance from one of the nurses, Ranelle got Dean to use the oxygen while she sat on the floor like a statue. Anthony and Carmen both looked very concerned for their friend. The young blonde decided to sit on the floor with Dean and try to be of some comfort to the troubled woman.

**************

Two hours later they were all still in exactly the same place. Anthony on one bed, Carmen on the other. Dean and Ranelle on the floor. Except they had all fallen asleep. All of them except for Dean.

As soon as she had seen the hospital the anxiety had kicked in followed by a feeling of dread. Those feelings had only increased as they progressed through the hallways, all the sights and sounds of a hospital bringing back memories of her very long stay. They were memories she would rather not have.

Becuase of them she had almost lost control. If Ranelle hadn't been there she may have every well thrown the 'good' doctor across the room. That wouldn't have been very good. People seemed to frown upon causing bodily harm to doctors. Or police, firefighters, paramedics... the list goes on.

She felt better now. Sure, the anxiety was still there but it was considerably less and under control. She was used to being in the hospital now and had resigned herself to remaining until the others were ready to go. Even overnight if Ranelle had to stay but there was no way she, herself, would lay down in a bed and sleep.

The dark head cocked as she picked up the sound of footsteps. These were different form the regular hospital footsteps. They were heavier, more determined. Whoever the owner of these footsteps was they were at the hospital for a reason.

Two sets of footsteps.

Two sets of footsteps definitely headed here.

Dean lifted her left shoulder to wake Ranelle. It proved to be more difficult than that, though, and Dean resorted to tickling the woman's side.

That did it.

The young woman jerked awake and promptly glared at Dean. The officer smiled sheepishly, "There's someone, two someone's actually, coming. I thought you might want to be awake and not drooling on my shoulder when they come in here."

Ranelle blinked for a moment, then, "I don't drool!" Dean smiled, shrugged, and stood, offering the reporter a hand up.

Two men in suits threw the door open and entered the room. The resulting bang caused Anthony and Carmen to awaken. The foursome gathered in the middle of the room and looked expectantly at the men in suits.

"Are you the people involved in the fire at 2543 69 St. that occurred earlier today?" They nodded. "We have reason to believe that the fire was a result of arson and are currently investigating the fire as such. Do any of you have anything to say?"

They were all caught flatfooted, the trauma of the fire still in the forefront of their minds that the concept of how the fire had started still seemed absurd.

Arson?

Why would anyone want to set Anthony and Carmen Bronce's house on fire? It hadn't been either of the Bronce's, for if it had been about insurance money they wouldn't have risked the lives of Carmen and Ranelle.

So the foursome stood there staring at the men in suits like they were nuts to even suggest the possibility.

Anyone passing the room who happened to glance in would have been hard pressed not to bust a gut laughing. The silent tableau was a sight to see. The four of them, still covered in soot, their eyes the only feature you could really make out, staring at these men in pressed suits in uncomprehending disorientation. All of them standing rigidly in a previously pristinely white hospital room that now sported black smudges from their bodies.

It was more than funny, it was down right hilarious looking.

"What? You wanna run that by us again?"

"We asked if any of you had anything to say about the fire that destroyed your house before the investigation starts up?"

Anthony sighed and rubbed his face, managing to smudge the soot even more. "Is it really necessary that we discuss this now? As you said, mine and my mother's house is gone along with all our belongings. We all could have died in there today and your only concern is who started the damn fire!" His voice had gotten steadily louder as he spoke, the reality of what could have happened crashing down on him. "It wasn't any of us. We don't have a reason to do something like that and even if we did, do you think I would have started the fire and risked my mother's life. Or that either of them started it and would risk their own lives by staying in the house?? If you would take a moment and think about that you would see the logic."

The men in suits glanced at each other and turned to Dean. "What about you?"

Dean looked up, "Huh, what about me? I was with Anthony, and I'm not in the business of starting fires that have the potential to hurt my friends." Dean pushed the sleeves up on her previously light blue shirt and rubbed her hands together.

Ranelle then looked at herself for the first time and sighed. 'There goes another set of perfectly good clothes.' She looked at her hands and imagined what her hair and face were like. Yuck. At least everyone else looked as bad as she imagined she herself did.

"We'd like to see ID for all of you."

"Why?" Four voices asked in tandem.

"Procedure."

"Wait a minute, just wait. Who are you guys? Police or something else? I want to see your ID first."

The men pulled out badges, identifying them as Portland detectives. "Satisfied?"

Dean nodded and went to pull out her wallet. She remembered that it was in her jacket and moved over to the garment that had been thrown onto the foot of one of the beds. She pulled out her small wallet and threw it to the taller of the two men who had been doing the talking.

They studied all of the identification for several moments and then looked up. "You're both pretty far from home. May we ask what you both were doing in Oregon?"

Dean and Ranelle glanced at each other. "Business."

"What kind?"

"Is there a reason we should tell you what we were doing? Are we under suspicion for committing a crime?" The officer was getting mad.

"Ms..." he glanced down at the wallet in his hand, "Ransom, a crime has been committed and you were involved. We like to cover all the basics, one of which being why you are here."

Dean was about to answer, but Ranelle laid her hand on the officer's arm and stepped forward. She very calmly started yo speak. "If you must know, Dean and I started out in San Diego, it was business related for both of us and after concluding that business we decided it would be prudent to speak to Mr. Bronce since he is involved in our business. He also happens to be a very good friend of Dean's, so instead of giving him a call we came to see him. OK?"

"May we ask where you went in San Diego?"

"San Diego Naval Base."

The detectives raised skeptical eyebrows and glanced at one another. "And what were you doing there?"

"That's.."

"Classified. Our business there was classified as it involves an on going investigation." Dean stepped forward and joined Ranelle. "Are we done now?"

"You're involved with the Navy, are you?" Dean inclined her head. "How can we be sure of that?"

"Oh for Christ's sake..." Ranelle turned violently from the detectives and started marching around the room, her patients snapped. Dean sighed and reached up, pulling down the collar of her shirt. She removed her dog tags and threw them at the detective. He spent a few moments examining them and then tossed them back.

"Thank-you for your time, we'll be in touch."

As soon as the detectives left the doctor entered the room. "Ah, just the man I wanted to see. Can we go?"

"Well I,.. I mean.. you probably shouldn't..."

"Listen Doc, we're tired, dirty, fed-up, and just wanna leave. It isn't going to kill us if we walk out the door, right?"

"Well, no but..."

"Great!" Dean turned and looked at her three friends. She simply raised a questioning eyebrow.

Three voices responded in unison, "Let's go!"

*****************

Ah, to be clean.

They were showered, dressed in fresh clothes, and lounging in a motel room.

"So," Anthony broke the lazy silence, "you guys heading home?"

"Yep." The officer looked around the room for a moment before speaking again. "You guys should come down, soon as you get anything here squared away here. I'd like to spend some more time with you both and what with the fire, you don't really have anywhere to go."

Anthony and Carmen exchanged glances and nodded their acceptance. Dean smiled.

Part 4

As she drove along the road to the outskirts of the city, Ranelle reviewed the last few days in her mind. They had been home for four now, and nothing peculiar had happened, thank God.

She started acting as if the story had been dropped and although she had not cut off contact with Dean, their interaction would only be viewed as that of friends. Her inquires into what had happened almost a year ago stopped and for all intents and purposes, it appeared that the story had been dropped.

When she had told her Uncle he was confused but trusted his niece and went along with it until Ranelle could clarify her decision and fill him in on what had happened in San Diego and Portland.

Amark had been outraged and concerned for her well being, and surprisingly enough, Dean's as well. After reassuring him that everyone was fine Ranelle informed him of their tentative plan. Simply, they were going to wait and see if they could uncover any more information through casual contacts of Dean's and the reporters. Namely, who originally got the information about the survivors of the Middle East.

It wasn't going too well. Everyone who was anyone didn't know anything about where the original information had come from, and the newspapers that had first printed the information were fiercely guarding their sources.

She was getting fed up and rather perturbed, seeing as how this story had endangered her life twice in the course of two weeks.

On the bright side, Carmen and Anthony arrived in Dallas two days ago and were giving Dean something to focus on besides their little investigation that didn't seem to be going anywhere. The mother and son were staying with the officer and keeping Dean from getting too twitchy from being cooped up.

At least that's what she hoped.

Ranelle hadn't heard anything from the officer since the duo had first arrived in Texas. But she optimistically kept to the idea that no news was good news.

As she pulled up and parked in front of the large house, Ranelle was surprised to see Scott's car and one other she didn't recognize sitting in the driveway. The young woman exited into the warm sun and slammed the door.

On her approach to the house, Ranelle was met by Carmen who had just emerged from the front door. "Hello dear, how are you doing?"

"Good Carmen, and yourself?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank-you. Come on, everyone else is over this way."

The blonde woman followed her escort around to the side of the house where a tall ladder was leading up to the roof. A few feet to the right of the outside wall, under the shade of a large tree, a small picnic table sat where Scott was sprawled out. He looked quite comfortable and smiled upon seeing her.

"Ranelle, it's good to see you again. Join me." He gestured to the bench beside him and Ranelle gladly sat.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, they're fixing the roof."

"What?"

"The roof. It was leaking and Dean and Anthony went up and took a look. Anhtony declared that it needed to be re-shingled. So that's what they're doing."

"Oh, and you're what? Supervising?"

He grinned. "Yep."

Ranelle nodded. "Nice job."

"I thought so."

They looked up when a voice interrupted. "No, he's just lazy and would do anything to get out of hard labour. He was always like that." A baseball cap covered head popped into view from above them.

Scott narrowed his eyes at Dean and glowered. "Did we ask for your input?! Get back to work!" He pointed up at the roof and continued to scowl.

Dean just laughed and shook her head. Moving her gaze to take in only Ranelle she smiled. "See, he's cut out for the job. Natural born slave driver." With that, the woman chucked a crumpled piece of paper at Scott from the roof, then disappeared from the edge.

The paper caught him full in the chest and he spluttered, indignantly. "Hey! You jus... I'm..."

"Quit whining." The voice floated down to them from above and Scott stopped rambling.

Sounds often associated with people at work commenced above them and Ranelle made idle chit chat with Carmen and Scott until those sounds ceased.

Anthony clambered down the ladder first and collapsed on the ground, his mother handing him a glass of lemonade. He was followed by a woman Ranelle didn't know but inferred that she owned the unfamiliar car in the driveway. Upon quick study, Ranelle noted the woman was a tiny bit taller than herself with a compact, slightly muscled form and she came to the conclusion that it could be none other than Dean's sister, Rachel.

Her observations were proven correct when Dean came down and conducted a quick introduction. They sat in the shade for awhile, simply relaxing and letting the first time roofers take a break from their work. As they talked Ranelle decided that she liked Dean's sister, although she figured she would the first time Dean spoke of her. The woman was a lot like Dean herself was, in mannerisms. She was quiet but friendly, you just had to engage the woman in a conversation she was knowledgeable about and Rachel, like her sister, could become quite loquacious.

During a lull in the conversation, Ranelle broached a subject with Dean that she felt the tall officer would be interested in. "I passed my last class. The professor apparently loved my final project."

At first, Dean experienced a moment of total bewilderment until it clicked and she remembered their first conversation and how furiously the young blonde had been working at her laptop in the club, Rainstep. Dean looked over and raised her eyebrow. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Ranelle shrugged, "Well, no not really I was just kinda...." She trailed off, not sure where she was going with that train of thought.

"You were unsure and didn't have much confidence in your abilities even though you know how good you are. I told you that you had a good project."

And she had. After helping Ranelle with her little coding problem, Dean had taken a quick look at the entire thing with a brief explanation about the course and requirements of the final project. The officer had said it was good, in fact, Ranelle had gotten the distinct impression that Dean had even been impressed.

"Didn't you believe me?" The soft voice brought her back from her memories. She looked up into vivid blue eyes and very promptly discovered that her brain had suddenly decided to take a vacation. She completely lost the thread of the conversation and didn't hear a word of what Dean was saying. Very aware that she was sitting and staring like a brainless idiot.

Dean's forehead creased as she realized that she had lost her audience. Ranelle seemed to have zoned out. "Ranelle? Hey..." Dean waved her had in front of the blonde's eyes and when that had no effect she reached up and shook the woman's shoulder.

Ranelle snapped out of it and focused on the officer. "You alright?"

"Huh, oh, yeah I'm fine, great. What were you saying?"

"I was asking if you thought I'd lie to you about something like that?"

"Uh...." Ranelle was lost again. She had missed something, she knew she was missing something important here. Her brain had returned but seemed to have misplaced the events of the last few minutes. "Like what?"

Dean's eyebrows raised and she lowered her head, looking at Ranelle through shaggy black bangs. "Your computer program. Are you sure that you're okay?"

The blonde woman shook her head and smiled. "Yeah, sorry. I'm good. So anyway...."

They continued their conversation while Rachel continued her very interested observation of the two. She smiled a private little smile, leaping for joy on the inside.

****************

The entire group had migrated inside pleading hunger, although the majority of the people present found it hard to believe that the tall Naval officer had anything to eat in her house.

Rachel, Scott, Anthony, and Dean were all sitting in the living room, Carmen having insisted that she would make something edible and that everyone else would simply get in the way. Ranelle decided to duck into the kitchen for a glass of water and a peak at her friend's fridge and cupboards.

She was pleasantly surprised to see a variety of food stuffs in stock and bestowed upon Carmen her very best questioning look. The older woman smiled, "The first thing I did when we got here was make Dean stop at the grocery store. I've know the woman for a long time and knew that she would hardly have enough for herself to survive on, never mind me and Anthony."

Ranelle nodded, "Smart woman." She turned on her way out of the kitchen with her water and stopped short. "Whoa." Carmen turned to see what had caught the young woman's attention.

"Ah, yes. Dean's had Anthony doing that constantly since we got here. They sat at the table for hours on end the first day, hardly moving at all. I'm not all together sure why."

The kitchen table was overflowing with papers. There were tons of them spread over the entire surface and falling onto the floor. Some were crumpled up in balls and laying on the floor around the overflowing garbage can. Upon closer inspection, Ranelle saw that they were drawings of a man's face. They all appeared to be the same person, but with different minute attributes.

The most common features were shaggy dark hair, a slightly crocked nose, dark eyes, and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow. He appeared to be in his mid to late twenties and from Asian decent. He wasn't a cruel looking man and there wasn't anything uncommon or peculiar about him at all. Ranelle was perplexed, wondering what was so important about this particular fellow. She would have to ask Dean.

Deciding to leave the issue alone until a more opportune time, Ranelle left the kitchen and joined the others in the living room. There was a lively conversation going on about several practical jokes that had been pulled during Dean's association with all of them. She settled back and listened intently.

They soon ate a meal of soup, sandwiches, and vegetables. It was very good and everyone passed on their compliments to the chef. Carmen accepted gracefully. Everyone continued their pleasant chitchat and Ranelle soon found herself fulfilling one of the reasons for her visit-- besides wanting to make sure that this motley crew of people hadn't killed each other.

"Dean," Ranelle waited until she had the older woman's attention, "my friends are taking me out as a celebration, I guess, for finishing my last class. Stacey very specifically said to invite you. I was going to anyway.... so I'm, ah, well, I'm asking if you'd like to go?" She seemed slightly hesitant, and for the life of her Dean couldn't figure out why. "I mean you don't have to if you don't want....."

"Sure."

"It's just that I'd lik...." Ranelle came to a halt. "Really? You'll go?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't see why not."

The young blonde grinned and nodded. "Awesome." The officer smiled, glad that she could make her friend happy.

"I hate to be the party pooper, but I really have to go." Everyone looked over as Rachel stood and stretched. Dean stood as well and walked over to her little sister. "It was great seeing you, Decano."

The larger woman smiled. "You too, Rach." Dean wrapped her sister up in a hug and lifted her up off the ground. Taking this opportunity since she was up by her sister's ear, Rachel whispered, "I like your new friend, I think she's good for you Dean. Hang onto her, okay?"

"I will."

Rachel smiled as she was placed back on the ground. "Great, I'll see you all when I see you." With that, Rachel took her leave.

Eventually, Scott had to depart as well and Dean and Anthony took to the roof again, saying they were almost finished so why stop now. Ranelle decided to hang around and talk to Dean about all these drawings as soon as she got the chance. She was sure that that was going to be an interesting conversation.

****************

The two Italians soon found their way inside again, with Anthony muttering and shaking his hand out. "What happened?"

"He hammered his thumb." Dean glanced at her friend then to Ranelle. "Three times." Anthony just pushed by and headed toward the bathroom, stilling shaking out his aching hand. The young reporter snickered and shook her head, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"What are all these?" She decided to be blunt and not dance around the issue, having realized that was the best way to get answers from the officer. Dean took a seat across from her and started sifting through the papers, looking for a particular one.

"When we were in the house in Portland and I was getting you out... the roof started to collapse and I had tripped. So I was kneeling on the ground just hoping that nothing would hit me..." she paused and continued to shuffle through papers, something of a nervous habit that Ranelle had noticed. Dean tended to fidget when she was unable to pace. "Anyway, while I was waiting for things to stop falling I had this... flashback I guess. Nothing like what happened in the car in San Diego... I just saw a man. Nothing about the people who were attacking us ever stood out so I figured this guy was important." Finally, Dean pulled a piece of paper out from all the others and handed it across to Ranelle. "This is him."

Ranelle took it and studied it, comparing it to the others. As she had noticed before, they were all different in some way and she wasn't going to question Dean's declaration that this man, out of all the others, was the one whom she remembered. "Ok... so what do we do with it now?"

The officer shrugged, "I'm not sure. I guess we should try and find out who he is... if he's in the Navy or anything like that."

They sat for several quiet minutes, with just the sounds of the house settling and the ticking of a wall clock that Ranelle just now noticed made any sound at all. "Well, we could fax a copy to Shelly... see if she can find any matches at her end. And we could run it anonymously in my uncle's magazine... asking if anyone recognized him. And I have a friend who'd run it in the newspaper for us."

Dean looked up from her intense study of the table, "What are the chances that that would come up with anything?"

"Mhh... they aren't very high.. I mean this man might not even be a US citizen, never mind the fact that he may have not ever been in Dallas, but it's worth trying... it'd make me feel like we're doing something."

"Might cause some problems for us, though. Someone could recognize him and come to the conclusion that we haven't let this drop. But... I'm willing to take that risk. You?"

The blonde woman looked up and grinned, "Are you kidding... this has almost got me killed several times... I wanna see these bastards caught. I'll deal with it."

Dean released a held breath. For a moment there, it had sounded like Ranelle would refuse, that she deemed the risk too high. So they had a plan now... more than what they had been operating with for the last few days. Granted, it was very tentative and may not result in anything besides drawing attention to themselves, but then again, it may help them crack this whole thing wide open.

When Anthony came back from licking his wounds they informed both him and Carmen of what they were going to do. The mother and son agreed wholeheartedly and convinced both Dean and Ranelle not to feel bad about also putting them at risk. The rest of the late afternoon was spent in comfortable silence, with light easy conversation breaking in. Ranelle took this opportunity to address something that had been running around in her brain since meeting the tall Naval officer. "We thought you were a guy, you know."

The sudden statement startled Dean from her thoughts and she turned abruptly on the couch to face Ranelle. "What?" They were in the living room, Carmen was in the kitchen fixing some supper and Anthony had left to retrieve some coffee.

"My uncle and I, when he first got the information on you and was telling me about the people involved. We thought you were a guy. They didn't tell Uncle Amark much about anyone, especially you, how were we supposed to know?"

Dean smiled. "Mhh... yeah. That's happened a lot. I guess I know why you looked absolutely flabbergasted when I walked into that club and told you who I was."

"Yeah. I was kinda shocked. So, why did your parents name you Dean? Is it after a relative or what?"

The taller woman shifted and smiled, "You know, I asked them that once. They said all the good names were taken."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. They didn't want us to have common names that they seem to think are over used. With the exception of David we all have less common names."

"Come to think of it... I don't think I've ever known a Dean... or a Rachel... or a Slyvester. Guess they were onto something."

"Yeah, well your name isn't horribly common either so your parents must have had the same idea."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I never really noticed before."

"Hmm... poor old Sly... he got teased more about his name than I did."

Anthony came strutting back into the room at that moment and set down three cups of coffee that he had somehow managed to carry into the room all at once. He settled his frame into one of the chairs and pushed back his shaggy dark brown hair. "Ah... discussing the origin of Dean's name, are we?" He smiled and took a sip of his beverage. "I think that anyone who gets to know Dean well enough eventually asks that question. As for Slyvester... who can blame them for teasing him? Wouldn't you have? I mean, come on... Slyvester and Tweety... that's what always comes to my mind when I think about your brother. And that cat sure wasn't very smart.. always got outsmarted by that little bird." He shrugged and continued with his coffee.

Dinner time soon came and they sat down to a delicious Italian meal. Soon after, Dean and Anthony were doing the dishes while Carmen relaxed. Ranelle slipped off to Dean's office, with the officers permission, to make a few phone calls.

The phone rang three times before it was answered by a rough voice. "Hello."

"Hey, Chuck, it's Ranelle Maloch calling."

"Ranelle, how have you been. I haven't heard from you in ages. How's your uncle?"

"I'm good, thanks for asking. Uncle Amark is the same as usual. Actually, I'm not calling just to say hi. I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"Anything for you my dear, you know that. Shoot."

"Ok... a friend of mine is trying to find a man and we have this sketch of him. I was wondering if you could run the picture in the paper for a few days.. asking if anyone recognizes him. And if they do could they please contact the paper. We kinda need to stay anonymous so I really don't want you running my name or phone number in the paper, or that of my friend's. You think you could do that, and maybe take any calls about the picture?"

"Sure, sure. That wouldn't be a problem at all. Mind telling me what this is all about, though?"

"Uh.." Ranelle hesitated, "I think it would be best if I didn't say anything."

Chuck's normally gruff manner gentled as he asked, "Ya'll haven't got yourself in any kind of trouble with this stranger, here, have 'ya?"

"No Chuck.... it's nothing like what you're thinking. Thank-you, though, for being concerned."

"Well, if you're sure.... just remember me if 'ya need anything else."

"Great, Chuck, thanks a lot. I'll fax the picture over to you tomorrow, okay?"

"That's fine, Ranelle. And you take care of yourself, 'ya hear?"

The blonde woman smiled, "You too Chuck. Talk to you soon, bye." Ranelle hung up and sat back for a moment, soaking up the concern that had be shown towards her. She contacted every friend she had in the newspaper business and soon had their promise to run the picture as soon as they got it. They would ask if anyone recognized the man and if so to please contact the newspaper office. Ranelle would then be contacted and she and Dean would decide if it was legitimate and how to proceed.

Now all she had to do was make some copies, hand them out to her contacts, and wait. Dean would fax a copy to Shelly first thing in the morning with brief instructions on what she wanted done and to try and keep it quiet. They didn't want any unnecessary attention. She drifted back to the living room for a pleasant evening of chatting with friends.

*****************

The next few days passed swiftly and without incident. The pictures ran in the paper and nothing happened. But they both tried to be patient and wait, not getting their hopes up too high but still trying not to be overly pessimistic. Now it was fast approaching the evening of Ranelle's celebratory dinner and Dean was getting anxious.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go. That had never been an issue. She considered Ranelle a good friend and wanted to participate in celebrating her success. From what she could tell, the young blonde would have been done school quite awhile ago if certain obstacles hadn't gotten in her way. It was just the simple matter that Dean hated large groups of people. Especially large groups of people where she hadn't even met everyone before.

So the tall officer was pacing edgily out of her room, down the hall to the front door, and back into her room. She didn't know where they were going, Ranelle was going to swing by at 5 o'clock to pick her up and it was almost 4:30. And she didn't know what to wear. It wasn't even like she had a lot of selection in the first place, seeing as her closet was pretty much bare. But Dean didn't think that her regular jeans, t-shirt, and boots would be acceptable.

Carmen and Anthony were trying, they really were, but they just couldn't seem to calm Dean down at all. Carmen had peeked into the officer's closet in hopes to make a suggestion on her attire but she was absolutely astounded at the lack of clothing.

Mercifully, the doorbell rang. Seeing as Dean was at that end of the hallway in her pacing she simply opened the door and turned on her heel, continuing to pace. Anthony scurried over and pushed the heavy door back some more to reveal an amused Ranelle. Anthony sighed in relief. "Come in, come in. Maybe you can do something that will get her to stop walking around. I swear she's gonna put a rut in the floor."

Ranelle stepped through the portal and waved at Carmen, smiling when Dean came walking out of her room once again. The tall woman looked up and stopped in her tracks. "Oh, hi."

"Hi. Are you having some problems?"

Dean winced. "Eeyeah... something like that. You're early."

"Yup... come on." She marched determinedly off towards Dean's room with everyone following behind like obedient little puppy dogs. The three Italians settled on the large bed while Ranelle went to the closet and threw the doors open. She stared for several minutes and then turned.

"That's... um.."

"Very hard to believe?" Carmen put in her two cents worth and Ranelle just nodded.

The closet contained two pairs of jeans, another pair of pants that weren't jeans, four t-shirts, two button up shirts, two sleeveless shirts, and a pair of running shoes. It was the very bare minimum and doing the quick math in her head, Ranelle decided that it was just enough to last a week before you'd need to do laundry. Glancing to one side, she noticed two large suit bags and a pair of what could be considered dress shoes sitting underneath them.

"So is this a casual place or a dressy place or what?" Dean's voice broke through Ranelle's concentration.

"Um... well, Stacey wasn't very specific. She said it was somewhere in between being casual and really, really, dressy."

"You mean you don't know where we're going?"

"Nope. She just gave me an address and pointed me in the right direction in the clothing department." Ranelle turned and opened her light jacket, displaying a deep green dress that seemed to bring out her eyes.

Dean examined the dress with military efficiency, going so far as to stand, take off Ranelle's jacket and have the younger woman rotate very slowly. After that, the officer collapsed back on the bed with a groan. "I'm doomed." Ranelle's dress was simple but beautiful and eloquent at the same time. In other words, way out of her league. It wasn't too dressy or complex it was just right. Although, maybe it was the person in the dress that made it look so good. The officer considered that and decided that yes, it was the person wearing the dress that added to its beauty.

After a moments thought, Dean snatched up the phone and dialed a number from memory. "What are you doing?" Ranelle asked. Dean held up her finger as the phone was answered. She read off the address that Ranelle had and asked the person on the other end if they knew what was there. Dean thanked the counterpart to her brief conversation and hung up.

Upon everyone's questioning look the officer simply shook her head, collapsed again and repeated, "I'm doomed."

"Who was that?"

"Scott."

"What did he say?"

Dean opened one blue eyeball and rolled it toward Ranelle. "Majestätisch."

Everyone stilled for a moment and thought about that. It was a German restaurant, privately owned that had opened in Dallas a few years ago. It had been doing quite well for itself after a slightly rocky start where it looked as though the business may go belly up. Now it was know as a great place to get incredible authentic German cuisine and also as a fancy, expensive place with a stellar reputation.

Turning back to the closet, Ranelle reached in and slid the suit bags from the side into the middle of the closet. "What's in these?"

A dark head turned and that eye opened again, glancing at what Ranelle was referring to. "Uniforms." It was stated quite simply and Dean went back to sprawling on the bed. The silence pounded down on her ears and she rolled her head back once again and opened one blue eye.

Ranelle was standing at the closet with a large grin very slowly spreading across her face. Green eyes glanced over at Dean with a wicked glint that the officer had learned to associate with mischief, among other things.

"Oh no, nononononono!" Her other eye popped open and the tall woman practically levitated off the bed, "I'm not gonna.... there's no way... I can't..." Dean's spluttering wound down when she caught a glimpse of Ranelle's determined look and finally stopped all together. She raised her arms helplessly and shrugged, "Oh brother... all right..." She heaved a sigh and Ranelle grinned in triumph. Sha didn't even have to say one word.

Everyone vacated the room as the officer walked dejectedly to the closet and pulled out one of the suit bags. The door closed and everyone waited somewhat anxiously from the woman to emerge in her service uniform. Finally, the door opened and Dean emerged wearing the men's blue service uniform. It was a simple uniform, with the white shirt underneath the jacket and a black tie. The jacket was double-breasted with golden buttons. There were golden stripes circling the sleeves of each arm- three of them with a star on top. Dean had a hat tucked under her left arm. It was white and displayed the officer's crest on the front- a bird sitting atop what appeared to be a shield with an anchor on either side. The visor was black and sported two lines of what appeared to be leaves coming from either side. They, too, were gold in color.

The uniform fit well and Dean seemed almost.. dashing in it. The tall officer shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny and raised an eyebrow. "Well, do I pass muster?" Three heads bobbed in unison. "Good. So can we get this show on the road?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. Come on then." Ranelle turned and started back down the hallway to the front door. Dean shook her head and smiled. They reached the door and Dean paused, pushing open the small closet that housed any and all outerwear. She pulled out a light colored trench coat and pulled it on. Nights were getting cooler with December fast approaching and although Dean didn't think for a moment that she'd get cold, the coat was more for appearances. How many people walked around outside in uniforms without some kind of jacket? None... not that she could ever remember seeing.

Properly equipped for their night out, Ranelle led the way out through the heavy wooden doors only ten minutes later than she originally wanted to leave. It was going to be an interesting evening.

****************

Pulling up to the restaurant, Ranelle was surprised to see three valets sanding outside the building. The duo got out of the car with Ranelle tossing her keys to the young man that came forward. She headed to the entrance and stopped short when she realized that her large looming shadow was no longer looming.

Ranelle turned to see Dean standing at the bottom of the three steps up to the restaurant, a hesitant look on her face. The blonde walked down and stood on the second step, putting her in line with Dean's neck instead of her torso. She looked up at the blue eyes that were so close and asked, "What's the matter? You look like you're ready to turn and run away."

"I'm ah.... I don't have a good track record in places like this."

"Places like what?"

"Like this," she gestured vaguely at the building, "fancy places that usually attract the snobby types. And I'm not fond of large crowds."

"Dean," Ranelle raised her hand to the officer's cheek, "if you're going to be horribly uncomfortable all night long you don't have to go. I'll take you back home if that's what you want."

Dean shook her head no. "No, this night is for you and finishing school... I wanna celebrate with you. I'll manage, I'm just sorta..." Dean trailed off and started fidgeting with her uniform.

Ranelle interpreted it as a nervous habit that the officer seemed to have, her replacement for pacing. When she couldn't pace she fidgeted with whatever she could get her large hands on. She paused for a moment and her brow scrunched, taking a moment to look at Dean from head to toe.

The uniform fit well but upon closer inspection she could see that if was a little baggy in spots. Around Dean's waist and a lot looser on her shoulders than Ranelle thought the officer would like her clothes. And it clicked. "Hey," Ranlle moved her hand to Dean's chin and tugged up, forcing blue eyes to come up and look at her, "You look fine, great actually. Everyhting fits just fine and anyone who thinks otherwise is scrutinizing you far too much, okay?"

The officer glanced down and shifted her shoulders. Everything felt different, loose and baggy. She hadn't worn this uniform in almost a year and a half and after all the weight and muscle she lost in the hospital, Dean felt very self-conscious. But if Ranelle thought she looked good, well, then she must. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, and don't worry about anyone else, 'kay? They don't matter a teeny tiny bit. Okay?" The dark head nodded in agreement. "Good. Come on."

They started up the steps, side by side this time, Ranelle's hand wrapped around Dean's muscled forearm. When they came to the door Ranelle spoke to the woman standing there. "We're meeting with people. Under the name Stacey O'Malley." The woman had been studying them and once Ranelle stated that they had reservations she glanced down at the papers on her little wooden stand.

"Yes, of course. Please, follow me."

Ranelle smiled up at Dean as they started following the woman, trying to reassure her that everything would work out just fine.

****************

Brock looked toward the door for what seemed to him to be the hundredth time that night. He then looked over at Stacey and sighed, "Where is she?"

"They."

"Huh?"

"Where are they."

"They?"

"Yes, where are they."

"I don't know where 'they' are."

Stacey looked at Brock, annoyed. "No, you said she... but it's they."

"Huh? I was asking where Ranelle is."

"Yes I know, but you said where is she. Ranelle is not coming alone so it's where are they."

"Stacey! Would you stop that, you're confusing me!"

"Obviously."

"Brock, honey," he glanced over at Joanna, "I think Stacey is referring to both Ranelle and Dean.. they are coming together."

"Yeah, so?"

Joanna smiled. "So she was just correcting your speech from 'she' to 'they'. Got it?"

"Ohhh... yeah, I got it." Brock gave Stacey the evil eye. "You coulda just said so you know, instead of being all vague."

Stacey grinned, "Yes, but it's much more fun to confuse the hell out of you."

Brock made a sound somewhere between a snort and a cough then sat back to continue the wait. "Well, I hope THEY get here soon, I'm starving." Stacey refused to comment on that and just resumed her conversation with Amark, who refused to be called anything but that.

"Hey, there they are!" Amanda's exclamation brought all the eyes toward the entrance.

Stacey and Brock smiled, seeing their friend walking beside the tall woman who was fast becoming a new and important friend.

Amanda and Amark raised their respective eyebrows upon seeing this person that they had heard so much about for the first time.

Joanna just gaped at the strange contrast. Tall and short, dark and light... even their outfits fit the comparison. Ranelle's shimmering green dress against Dean's dark service uniform with the unique ambiance of the Majestätisch as a backdrop. It was quite an amazing site.

The fashionably late duo arrived at the table and for moments on end no one spoke or moved. Everyone just sat staring at the standing duo, taking everything in until an exclamation broke the silence. "Navy Guy!"

Dean smiled at that as Stacey stood and came around the table. She was surprised, however, when the curly haired woman wrapped her arms around Dean in a hug. After a brief moment of shock the officer returned the affection gladly.

When the hug reached its end, Ranelle gently took hold of the officer's arm and guided the tall woman to one side of the table whose occupants stood upon seeing their approach. "Dean, this is my uncle Amark." The man stepped forward and held out his hand which Dean grasped and shook.

"Pleased to meet you, sir. Ranelle has spoken very fondly of you on occasion."

"And you Dean. But please, don't call me sir. Amark will do just fine." He leaned in as if sharing a secret. "Anything else makes me feel old."

Dean nodded, "Yes si... ummm, Amark." He smiled and slapped Dean on the shoulder before meandering back to his seat.

"And this," Ranelle broke into the conversation again, "is my cousin, Amanda." The young woman stepped up and ran her eyes over Dean in frank appraisal. The officer stood easily under the scrutiny, quite used to it after 16 years in the Navy. Finally, Amanda too stuck out her arm for a handshake.

"It's good to finally meet you, Dean. Ranelle's spoken of you a lot."

The dark haired woman just nodded and smiled, not having much of anything to say at the moment. Amanda sat back down and Ranelle once again guided Dean to another section of the table. "You remember Brock and we all know you know Stacey. This," they finally reached the end of the table and stopped, "is Brock's girlfriend Joanna."

The nurse stood and they once again went through the ritualistic greeting. Joanna smiled, "I'd say that it's great to meet you and I've heard a lot about you, but I haven't. So I wont lie and I'll just say it's great to meet you."

Dean smiled and chuckled low in her throat, "Likewise."

They were finally all able to sit and spent the customary few minutes reading menus in silence, while trying to decide what to eat. Ranelle scrunched her eyes up as she read the menu, or tried to. It was one of those menus that you never really understood what you were reading, even with the little captions under the names of the dishes. It didn't help at all that most of the names were written in German themselves. She hated places like this, always finding that she just had to take a chance and hope for the best. Usually she was very disappointed. Although...

Ranelle nudged the sturdy shoulder at her right and waited until blue eyes came around and latched onto hers. "Yes?"

"You ever been to Germany?"

Dean glanced around and saw that a few of their dinner companions were taking an interest in their conversation. "Yes, I have. Spent 3 months there, in fact."

The blonde nodded her head seriously. "Do you speak German?"

"Yes." A dark head tilted. "Why?"

Ranelle grinned. "Great, my stomach is in need of your services." She closed her menu and set it back on the table.

"Is it?"

"It is. I'm afraid that if you don't give me some idea of what all this stuff is before I order, that I'll simply starve."

"Well, we can't have that." Ranelle shook her head adamantly.

The ordering of food didn't progress until Dean had answered all of her table mates questions on the different food selections and what would most likely yield the best results. The food came and everyone was quite pleased in the end.

Throughout dinner polite conversation was maintained, with the better acquainted people striking up involved conversations with each other. For the most part Dean was more than happy to just sit back and let it all wash over her, contributing the occasional comment or two. The reticent officer was dragged into a few conversations that turned into lively debates on many different subjects.

Ranelle excused herself to go to the ladies room and was not surprised when Amanda stood and followed her. "Hey Ranelle, you remember that day in the parking lot when you said someone tried to mug you?"

"Yes." Her tone was resigned to telling her cousin exactly what had happened, or at least what they thought happened. She had hoped that her cousin would have forgotten about that so she wouldn't have to suffer through 20 questions.

"It wasn't what you said it was, was it?"

Ranelle blinked a few times, sorting out the 'wases' and processing what she was being asked. "No, not really."

Amanda nodded. "I didn't think so. Soon as I saw Dean I remembered what you told me about what happened. Someone would have to be totally cookoo to try and mug someone walking with her." She paused and tilted her head. "So what really happened?"

Ranelle shrugged, "Basically what I told you only with a different motive. We were attacked in the parking lot, whoever it was pulled a switchblade. Dean beat 'em up and they went running into the night. I think she broke his wrist. We sorta ruled out robbery right off the bat.... Dean figured someone was trying to scare me away from something I was getting close to. Or maybe someone who didn't want to take the chance of me getting close."

Amanda was nodding and then she stopped. "Wait wait wait... waitjustaminute! You were working on the Navy thing.... Ranelle you aren't in trouble with this story, are you?! I mean..."

Ranelle could tell that her cousin was getting frantic and decided to put the other woman at ease. "Amanda, just listen to me, okay? We, Dean and I, think that someone doesn't want us to print what really happened over there. Dean discovered some disturbing information in San Diego and we had a little trouble in Portland but we're both fine and we aren't dropping this, all right? So don't try and talk me out of this story. We have a pretty good idea of what we're doing so just chill out."

Amanda reached up and rubbed her face, analyzing what she had been told. "Alright, but if anything else happens I wanna be told, you hear me? I don't like the way this feels, haven't since the parking lot thing. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good. Now lets get back out there before they send a search party."

*****************

The duo walked through the heavy wooden door to a mostly dark house, just the hall light giving the illumination. It was obvious that Anthony and Carmen had turned in for the night. Ranelle was pleased with how the supper had gone, feeling she had adequately celebrated the completion of her schooling. She was ecstatic that Dean had actually emerged from the shell that she seemed to have around anyone except Ranelle herself and good friends like Anthony and Scott.

They moved over into the family room, Dean taking off her jacket and loosening the tie. The officer was surprised at how at ease she came to feel wearing the uniform again and how comfortable she had been in the restaurant. It had been a very good night and she was glad that she had gone. "Hey, Ranelle?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you suddenly show up early today when you came to pick me up?"

"Oh, actually, I was with Scott before I came here and he suggested that I get over here early because you would probably be having a near panic attack." She shrugged. "So I went home, changed, and came out early."

"Oh... why were you with Scott?"

"Uh... for a job interview, actually."

Wide blue eyes turned to look into green. "You're kidding!"

Ranelle smiled. "No... that day you were fixing the roof I showed him some of my stuff. I had my laptop and he sorta planted the seed about working for him first so I took him up on the offer."

"And?"

"And I guess he was impressed. He set up an 'official' interview date which was today."

"I'll say again, and?"

"Well......" Ranelle looked up and grinned into the tanned face, "he hired me."

Dean grinned and impulsively wrapped her arms around her friend. They ended up falling over onto the couch with Ranelle sprawled across the tall officer. "That's great! I'm glad you got the job... what exactly did her hire you for?"

"Oh, the R&D team."

The dark head popped up, "He hired you for research and design... our research and design team?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"No, no, believe me it isn't. It's just the he must have been really impressed cause you usually have to work with the company for a few years before you get into R&D." She paused in thought and smiled again. "But I think it's perfect for you." Dean looked up at the green eyes hovering just above her face and smiled. "I'd love to see what you used to woo Scott with sometime."

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

They continued to lay there in comfortable, tangled silence until a soft voice broke the quiet. "Dean, can you tell me what happened... that night?"

Dean sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't need any more elaboration than that, she knew exactly what Ranelle was referring to. She knew this was going to happen, that it was inevitable. Eventually she was going to have to tell Ranelle exactly what happened in the Middle East. She had resigned herself to that and thought she was at terms with it. But she was scared. Scared because talking about it would bring it all back to the forefront of her mind. Dean knew that keeping it all bottled up inside wasn't going to help, that the pressure would just keep building until one day it burst and she really didn't want that to happen. But she didn't want to even think about the events that had taken place 10 months prior. Although, there's probably no better person in the world to talk to.

The silence lengthened until Ranelle thought Dean was simply going to say no. Then, the muscular body under hers moved and she found herself sitting shoulder to shoulder with the tall woman. "Okay."

Ranelle sat and waited for Dean to start, ready to support her friend at a moment's notice.

*****************

It's just another day in a long line of days that all seemed to blend into one another so as to be indistinguishable. There is nothing out of the ordinary about this day which is exactly why you will always remember it.

It dawns bright and early, becoming hot and humid in a hurry. The soldiers go about their chores and then fall back into their routines that developed over the three weeks in the middle of nowhere. You, too, do your usual tasks but despite nothing being amiss you feel that something is not quite right. You can't explain it, but as you were climbing out of your bed you got this feeling, nothing concrete that you were able to put your finger on, just a sense of foreboding. Deciding there was nothing you could do about it, you shrugged it off and went on your merry way.

You walk around the compound, ensuring that your men get their jobs done before falling to the usual tasks used to kill time. Often, men not on patrol or lookout would sit around and play cards, or crowd around the very small, black and white TV with horrible reception. A few of the more private people take to reading. But something is a little different this morning, the restlessness that had shown up in the last little while seemed to be heightened, as if they too could sense what you did in the morning. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that this restless feeling had shown up long ago, not just recently.

They had been stationed there for three weeks now but it seems to you that the majority of men came down with cabin fever just inside a week. You started feeling it too, just a few days ago, and it makes you edgy and irritable. You don't like it.

You always fill your morning with a workout of some sort, finding that it exhilarates and just makes you feel better. So you start out, running down the steel steps all the way to the third sub-level. There, you drop and pump out an incredible number of push ups and sit-ups, then you start running back up to the top level. When you finish you go outside and walk to cool off, do some stretches and then head back inside.

Socializing with the soldiers is something that you don't do very often, except for maybe a select few who you consider friends. But you had been with these men for a few years now, been through thick and thin with them and you know them well, often getting talked into a card game or two. Today they try but you refuse, heading back down to the sub-levels to check on the support personnel and their work.

Lt. Anthony Bronce, a good friend and comrade, sees you on your way down and trots over. You smile warmly at him as he accompanies you down the elevator. Once it arrives you both disembark and head to the room that amounts to the operations room for the base.

You check in with the support personnel and they report that everything is fine and running smoothly. Just as you turn to go the lights flicker. Once. Twice. They go out and you, Lt. Bronce, and 11 support personnel and left standing in the pitch black dark. Not for long, though, as the emergency lights flash on.

Glancing around you demand what has happened. No one knows, everything was working just fine. You know that something is wrong, looking around at all the faces with their eerie red glow you can see that they know it too.

You are currently three levels below ground and have no way of knowing what is happening up top. You run over to the intercom and key the mic, asking for someone to respond. You release the button. Static. You repeat your request... nothing.

Then, a rough voice comes on, "Commander, we're under attack.... don't know who.... surrounded.... breached the base and we're fighting.... help..." The message cuts out, and you stand there for a few seconds, deciding.

Whoever is attacking can't make it down to the computers. If the lights are out that means the elevators won't work either. There are two stair cases. You turn to your friend Bronce, "Go to the weapons locker and bring back everything you can." He nods and goes to carry out your orders. You turn to the support personnel. "Start erasing the hard drives of these computers... we aren't going to be able to fight these guys off and they can't have what's on those." You gesture to the large main computers and the support personnel scramble to do as told.

Bronce runs back into the room carrying shotguns, hand guns, submachine guns and everything else under the sun. You start grabbing weapons, two .45's that you attach to your thighs, a shotgun swung over your shoulder, and machine guns slung across your chest. You gather together extra clips and bullets and turn to Bronce. "As soon as those drives are erased blow them up," you hand him some C-4, "stay here and protect these guys. I'm going to try and hold them off at the stair cases. Understand?"

Bronce straightens and salutes, "Yes ma'am."

You nod and leave the room, heading toward the south stair case. Once there you close the heavy steel doors and wrap lengths of chain around the handles and padlock them. You also jam a long metal bar through the handles and hope with everything you're worth that they don't decide to just blow the doors clean off the hinges.

Turning, you start back to the other stair case. You know that you don't have much time, that the enemy will start pouring down as soon as your men above become unable to hold them off any longer. You know that they are coming, from what you heard over the intercom everyone was already in bad shape.

You reach the stair case and start running up. Eventualy you get onto the first sub-level and wait where they will have to come down from the main floor. You get out two grenades and listen. Soon, the sound of running feet comes to your ears. You wait patiently until you know that anyone coming down will be hard pressed to turn around and avoid the blast radius. You turn to face the stairs and hurl the grenade into the stairwell. You jump back and hide behind a protruding wall.

The scramble of frantic feet is heard but it is for naught. The grenade explodes and with it goes a few of your foes. You whip the second grenade in too, just to be sure. You stand and head further down the hall, knowing that when more come they will clear this floor before advancing. Especially now that some of their men have been blown up.

Once again you wait patiently, hidden in a little niche that can't be seen from the stairs. When they come, it is in a large group and you get the first glimpse of your enemy. They are natives to this land, with dark skin and hair. Their faces are covered with bandanas, though, so you can't really identify them. You stand and let go with a hail of bullets from you submachine gun. They fall and yet more come.

You continue down the floors doing much the same thing, trying to eliminate as many of the enemy as possible.

And yet they keep coming.

Soon you are halfway down the stairwell to the last floor where Bronce and the support personnel await. You left a large number of dead above you but it seems as if for every one you kill another two come down the stairs to join the survivors. They are traveling in a rather large group now, so you must be making a dent in their forces if they are starting to rely on strength in numbers. You make a decision and kneel down where you are. After a few seconds of fiddling you retreat to the bottom and hide far away from the bottom of the stairs.

You wait, oh so patiently.

And they come, just as you expected. The beginning of the large group reaches the bottom and you press the button, detonating the last C-4 that you set on the stairs. A huge fireball travels up and down the stairwell, consuming all those in it's path and mercilessly continuing its journey of death, past bodies scrambling out of the way and swearing in a foreign language.

Again, it is for naught as every living thing on the stairs dies.

You rise, glad that it worked and sure that it has granted you a temporary reprieve. You run. You run as fast as you are able back to the support personnel and Bronce. You enter and are glad to see that the computers have been destroyed. You tell them all that time is of the essence and that everyone has to get out as fast as possible. So you lead them. To the southern staircase that you locked up. The other would be far too hard to travel after the abuse it suffered. And you are sure that the support personnel don't have a stomach for the dead bodies.

Your group arrives and you are overjoyed that no one has come through. You open the doors and send half the support personnel up with Bronce.... he wouldn't be able to protect more and even half is a stretch. You remain behind to protect the others from anyone who may come down the other stairs.

Something sets your senses off, and before you can react a canister comes bouncing down the steps in front of you and releases its contents. You turn your back and get as far away as you can as do the support personnel. It burns... you have no idea what it is.... it has no smell or color but it burns. Right through your clothes and it feels like it penetrates your skin. It is agony. Like thousands of nails penetrating your skin at once and then staying there to grind into bone and muscle. It stings your eyes and makes your nose and throat burn with the effort that breathing has become.

Soon after it came it dissipates, absorbed by the air and becoming harmless. But the damage has been done and your back and legs feel as if they are on fire. The majority of the support personnel seem to have escaped far enough down the hall but a few are feeling the effects just as you are. Grimly, you stand and push the agony into a corner of your mind, ignoring it. You decide you can't wait for Bronce... it's getting too dangerous.

You head up the stairs with the support personnel, a few of the more competent ones armed with guns. As you progress up you don't see anyone, living that is. Soon you are starting up the stairs to the main level. You send 6 support personnel up who happen to be escorting one of the injured men. You go with them just to make sure it is safe.

They all reach the top without incident and you get the idea of the damage done. The main floor is deserted, the air filled with smoke and a gas that you can't identify but you know must not be anything good. You tell them to cover their mouths and they do. You pull the bandana that you wear tied around your neck up over your nose and mouth and continue to gaze around.

Dead bodies are scattered all over, a lot of them your men and some of them that of the enemy. There are emptied shell casings all over the floor, along with abandoned guns. Furniture is tipped over, the cards are scattered all over the floor and through the thick clawing smoke and gas, you see the smashed remains of the TV with bad reception.

The support personnel are out now and heading into the forest toward the designated rendezvous point for crisis situations such as this. As you turn to head back down the stairs your warning bells go off with a vengeance. You turn back around, just in time to be nailed in the face with a fist. You tumble back down the steel stairs.

****************

Ranelle sat on the couch in silence, listening as the impressive house made customary sounds that all houses make. The tall form beside her was rigid after Dean had come to a stumbling halt. Ranelle knew how hard that was for the officer, she had been fidgeting the entire time, shifting in her seat and Ranelle could tell that Dean really, really wanted to get up and start pacing. But she hadn't and Ranelle was somewhat glad, finding it hard to follow a narrative while the person telling it keeps turning away from you. Ranelle desperately wanted to hear more but she could tell that Dean was spent.

Slowly, the blonde head turned to take in her friend. Silent tears were running down the officer's cheeks, her eyes closed in remembrance. After hesitating for only a moment, Ranelle reached out and laid her hand on the strong arm beside her. Dean collapsed. The officer gathered Ranelle up in her long arms and just held on, seeking comfort that had been too long in coming and finally releasing the pain that she wouldn't, couldn't, display. Finally, after long last, it was coming to the surface and Dean could start to heal.

They sat there, just holding one another for long minutes seeking and giving comfort. Eventually, Dean pulled back and sat back on the couch, wiping her eyes with shaking hands. She sniffed a few times and Ranelle simply waited, giving the officer the time to collect her composure.

"Ranelle, do you remember when you asked me if I had any regrets?" The blond's mind worked furiously and finally lit upon a conversation they had had the morning after Ranelle had stayed overnight. She nodded. "I told you I didn't, but I did. I mean, I don't have them anymore, but out there when I thought I was dying I was convinced I was a fool for doing what I did. And for a long time in the hospital, too, I regretted it. I think I was feeling sorry for myself."

Ranelle didn't know what to say so she just grabbed the large tan hand beside her and held on. "It's really late... you can stay here if you want."

Raanelle looked at her watch to see it was almost 2 am, "That would be great Dean, thanks."

"You can stay in the same place as last time.. you remember where it is? I should..."

"No, Dean, everything is fine I'm sure. I remember where it is. You just go to bed and go to sleep... you don't look so hot." And she didn't, her eyes were puffy from crying and the large hands were still trembling slightly. "Okay?" The dark head nodded. "Good. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"Night Ranelle."

They traipsed off to their separate rooms and both fell into an exhausted sleep.

Part 5

A sleepy looking Ranelle stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed onto one of the chairs. She sat there for several long seconds before finally looking up at an all too cheery looking Carmen. "Good morning."

"Morning dear... did you sleep well?"

Ranelle sighed and wrapped both hands around the cup of coffee that the Italian had just placed in front of her. "Mehhh..."

Carmen winced as she lowered herself down across from Ranelle. "Ranelle, dear, you sound like a goat in labour."

The coffee that had just entered Ranelle's mouth was hastily spit back into the mug as she stared coughing. She set the mug down and buried her head in her hands and just laughed. Finally she wound down enough to speak, "Ah.. thank-you Carmen, I needed that."

"Um.. you're welcome." Carmen sat and turned a speculative eye upon the woman across from her. "Forgive me if it isn't my place Ranelle, but you look a little worn down."

The coffee mug once again found itself sitting on the table as Ranelle sat back and focused on Carmen. "No, it's alright. It's nice to see that someone cares..."

"Surely you have plenty of people who care about you. It's as plain as day to me that Dean cares a great deal about you and that woman can be so distant and aloof sometimes. I..."

"Nononono." Carmen looked up, perplexed. "I mean, yes, Dean does care, I know that. And I didn't mean what I said the way I said it. I just... well, a lot of things have been happening lately. I mean I met Dean and we got attacked in the parking lot and then we went to San Diego and then Portland and there was the fire. I just feel really burnt out sometimes and I can't help thinking to myself 'What comes next?'. This isn't over, far from it, and I feel like I have to keeping looking over my shoulder and I really.... I hate that feeling, you know. And I know it's starting to get to Dean, too. I guess I just think that if someone can tell just by looking at me how I feel then it's okay to feel the way I do." She paused and thought that over and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Carmen, for dumping this all on you. I'm not even making sense, am I? I just confused the heck out of myself."

Carmen blinked a few times, stunned. She hadn't been expecting to hear all that, but now that she had, she might as well say something. "Oh Ranelle. Don't ever apologize for unloading on me, I'm used to it. Most people need to, or else they just explode. And it is okay to feel this way. Your life has just changed a lot and you've been through a lot.... it's a perfectly normal response to something that is very traumatic."

"You seem to be holding up just fine. It's not like I was trapped in that house and couldn't get out. I was unconscious..." She trailed off and shrugged.

A gentle, almost serene smile graced the older woman's face. "I wasn't fine after you two left Portland. The night after I had a nice little breakdown and cried on Anthony's shoulder. He did too. We came to terms and accepted that we no longer had a house, that we could have died, but we didn't and decided to move on. I'm a firm believer in the idea that everything happens for a reason. We were thinking of moving anyway, the cold was starting to get to me. And now we have nothing holding us back. And Ranelle, we can't control what happened in the past or what will happen in the future but you do have to talk about it and accept it." Carmen sat back after her long spiel and just watched as Ranelle digested everything.

"I think... that maybe you're right but I'm not sure...."

"I'm thinking you should go see that hardheaded Naval Commander and see what she has to say."

Ranelle nodded, finished off her coffee and stood. "Alright, I'm gonna go talk to Dean."

"Good for you."

Ranelle turned to leave then turned back. She took two steps and wrapped Carmen in a long hug. "Thanks," she whispered.

"You're welcome, dear." She whispered back.

The blonde turned to leave again and almost walked right into Anthony who had just entered the kitchen. "Anthony, hi, do you know where Dean is?"

"Morning, and yes, she's in the tower."

"Huh?"

"That room she has, over there," he pointed vaguely to the other end of the house.

"Oh, where all her computer stuff is?"

"Yeah."

Ranelle glanced at the clock. "It's hardly past 9 am... isn't it sort of early to be working up there?"

"Um... Dean only ever did three things when she wasn't on duty. Worked out, read, or messed around with all her trinkets and gadgets. And I don't think it's early for her, I think it's late."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I came here at 4 this morning for a drink and Dean was sitting at the table. Scared the shit outta me. When I got up again at 8 she was in the tower, has been ever since."

"Okay, thanks Anthony."

"No problem. And I wouldn't get my hopes up for great conversation if I were you. Dean seems to have reverted to caveman speech."

Ranelle chuckled. "I'll take my chances." And she left.

**************

Ranelle trooped up the staircase and eventually found herself standing in the Tower, as Anthony had dubbed it. Dean was at the far end of the room with her back to the door. Even from here, Ranelle could tell that there was something not quite right with her tall friend.

Here it was 9:30 in the morning, what most sane people considered early but to Dean was late morning, and the officer was still decked out in her boxers and hockey jersey, standard sleeping attire.

The strong back turned and Dean came up short on her journey across the room upon seeing Ranelle. "Hey."

"Hey."

"I didn't hear you come up."

Ranelle shrugged. "I didn't make it a point to sneak, but I'm not naturally loud either." She strode forward to the table in the middle of the room and met the tall officer there. "What're you doing?"

"Tinkering."

"Huh?"

Dean smirked. "It's a habit I have. I was always taking stuff apart as a kid, it's how I learned to fix things." The broad shoulders shrugged. "I still do it, except now I tend to build instead of take apart."

"I see. It must have driven your parents crazy."

"Oh, yeah. I remember, one of the first things I disassembled was a can opener... my father was furious, saying we didn't have the money to replace things that I ruined. My mother, always the voice of reason, took him aside and calmed him down. She asked him to just wait and see. So he did. And two hours later when he came back into the kitchen there it was, as good as new. He never yelled about that again and I never came across something I couldn't put back together."

"Your mom sounds pretty nice."

"Yeah, I guess. Dad was the time bomb waiting to explode and mom was kinda like the bomb squad... whenever she asked him to lay off, he did. Always sorta amazed me, how far he'd go to please her."

They stood together in silence, Dean's large hands fiddling with the bits and pieces of technology on the table. She's nervous, Ranelle thought. Deciding to bite the bullet since Dean obviously knew she was there to make more than idle conversation, she reached out and covered the large hands, stopping their nervous motion. Ranelle looked up, Dean refused to meet her eyes.

"You okay? You look as bad as you did last night."

"Yeah, I'm fine I just..."

"Hey," Ranelle reached up and gently cupped the side of Dean's face, "Look at me." Blue eyes reluctantly lifted to meet green. "Don't try and pull that with me. I think I'm getting to know you pretty well and I know that something's wrong. So spill."

Hesitation and then a heartfelt sigh. "I tried to sleep, but I had these dreams.... nightmares. About what happened. I just, with everything else that's happening, I don't want to deal with that right now. Cause if I drag it all up I think I might break and that... that terrifies me." They stood in silence, Ranelle loath to say anything, it was obvious that Dean was gathering herself to continue speaking. "I've seen that happen," she shook her head, "too many times, and I can't, won't, go through it." Her voice cracked and Ranelle glanced down to see the large hands shaking ever so slightly.

"Hey," Ranelle pulled gently on Dean's arm, "c'mere. Sit down." They both plopped down onto the floor right where they were. The blonde moved closer and again put her hand up to the side of Dean's face. Their eyes were on the same level, exactly what Ranelle wanted. It wasn't very easy to have a delicate, sensitive chat with someone who towers over you. "Now listen to me Dean. We can't do this alone, none of us can. Not me or Carmen or Anthony or you. We are all involved up to our necks in this but we aren't alone. We have each other to lean on and now I'm asking if I can lean on you. Can I? Let me lean on you and you can lean on me. Please?"

Dean's jaw clenched and unclenched several times. She leaned forward and covered her face with her hands and just sat there, thinking. Her low voice broke the silence, "I'm.... I'm afraid to let you help me, Ranelle."

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Yes, God yes." Dean's voice was strained and quiet. "But I'm not very good at this whole, sharing emotions thing... and there's just so much in me that might come out... I don't want to push you away."

"But you have talked to me about how you feel... you're doing it right now. And before, when you told me what happened on the mission, you were sharing emotions and things, and don't try and tell me you weren't." Ranelle reached out and gently placed her hand on Dean's back, rubbing slowly. "Don't worry about pushing me away either, I'm kinda fond of you and I don't give up that easily. Okay?"

The dark head nodded and moved to lean against Ranelle's shoulder. They sat there, together, neither of them thinking of anything in particular, just letting their minds wander. Ranelle kept up her gentle rubbing, feeling as though it was the only thing keeping her grounded in the here and now. When her hand reached the far left side of Dean's back she could feel the rough, raised skin that attested to the scars. She was pleased to see that Dean didn't react at all to her touching them, as opposed to the first time she had accidentally touched them after being attacked in the parking lot. The officer had flinched and practically shrunk away from the contact.

"Where'd you get this house?" Her voice seemed unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Hmm... my grandfather willed it to me."

"Were you two close?"

Dean laughed. "Hell, no. I might have seen him twice in my lifetime and hardly remember the man."

"Soooo... he gave it to you because??"

"He and my father didn't get on so well... actually, they didn't get on at all. When I was told that I was now the owner of this house and everything the old guy had owned, I was shocked. So I asked what the will said. Apparantly, he had said that whatever relative was currently living the closest to here when he died would get everything, as long as it wasn't his son Malcolm. At the time, I was living with Scott here in Dallas and everyone else was in Austin." Dean shrugged, "So I got a house and a car and a whole bunch of furniture from I man I never knew, just because I was living in the right place and he hated his only son."

"I must say, sounds like you have a very interesting family."

Dean snorted. "More like dysfunctional."

"How'd ya meet Anthony?"

"Is this sharing and caring time?" The officer's large smile took away any harshness the words may have held.

"I'm just curious about you."

"Well, now that you've asked I might as well tell. He was on the first ship that I got assigned to when I turned 18... see, normally, women have to be 17, I think, maybe 18, before you're allowed to join the Navy. They recruited me before they checked everything out, assuming I was 18 cause I was graduating high school. They hadn't considered that I skipped a grade or two." Dean smiled, losing some of her morose mood. "Anyway, by the time they figured this out they couldn't retract the offer. So I spent the first year or two jumping around from base to base and training, learning all these different odd jobs. In the end it helped, because I had a lot of experience going into my first ship assignment that others didn't. Anyway, we ran into each other one day, literally, and became friends. Both if us being Italian helped solidify our friendship faster than you would have expected."

Ranelle smiled, thinking about what she had been told. "Sounds interesting. How old was he?"

"Oh... he was a newbie too.... just turned 18... I'm older by a couple of months."

"So that's what? 14 years worth of friendship?"

"Yeap."

"When's your birthday?"

Dean wiggled her eyebrow and jumped up off the floor. "I'm not gonna tell 'ya... you have to guess.. you should know, too."

"Yeah," Ranelle stood as well, "I should. I read it in your file a few times."

"Well, then it isn't my fault you can't remember... come on."

***************

"Hey, Dean, what are you doing today?" Ranelle had been intently studying her friend who was walking a step in front of her since coming down from the tower.

"Not much... Rachel said she might drop by," broad shoulders shrugged, "I don't have anything horribly exciting planned. Why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering."

"Riggghttt."

In actuality, the blonde woman had noticed that Dean was walking differently. Limping, actually. She was concerned because in the entire time since the officer had gotten rid of her cane, Ranelle hadn't seen her limp unless she had been sitting for long periods of time or had put a lot of stress on her legs. If it was because of the former, stretching usually cleared it up right away. The latter, Ranelle had learned, Dean couldn't do anything to fix short of avoiding whatever had caused the problem in the first place. She had been limping for a day or two after the Portland fire.

But the last few days had been pretty darn tame so the only reason that came to mind was that Dean was more tired than she let on, or even looked. Ranelle hoped that Dean would take it easy and try to rest.... maybe she could get Anthony, Carmen, and even Rachel to help her out in that department. Yeah.

Ranelle refocused on her surroundings and stopped. "Um, Dean?"

The tall body stopped and turned. "Yeah?"

"Where are we? I don't recognize this hallway."

Dean studied the long corridor they were in and then turned back to Ranelle. "I'm, ah, not sure actually."

"Whadda ya mean?"

"Well, I wasn't paying attention really. My mind was wandering. Guess you weren't paying attention either, huh?"

"Noooo, I was following you."

"Well, no matter." She turned and took in the doors that they could go through. After a moments contemplation she chose. "This one."

"Are you sure?"

"No, but we aren't going to get any closer to the kitchen by just standing here."

"Good point."

*****************

Anthony glanced up at the ringing device and after a brief debate decided to answer the annoying distraction. "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm looking for Dean Ransom."

"May I ask who's speaking?"

"Anthony... that you?"

The Italian man's brow scrunched as he tried to place the familiar voice. "Admiral Cooper?"

"Yep."

"Oh... hi, um Dean..." he glanced up as the kitchen door swung open, "just walked in. Hold on a sec." Anthony lowered the phone and handed it over to his friend. At her inquiring look he mouthed Cooper. She scooped up the receiver and put it to her ear.

"Admiral?"

"Commander, hello."

"Is there something I can do for you, sir?"

Dean moved off with the cordless phone. Ranelle sat with the others and looked around. She glanced back sharply when Anthony's stare became annoying.

"What!?"

"Nothing... how'd it go?"

"Umm... pretty good I guess. I got more than grunts for answers." She paused and scratched her nose.

"What, what's wrong? What else happened?"

"It wasn't anything that happened. I'm just worried about Dean. She's limping and looks like hell." Ranelle looked up into two concerned faces. "I don't know what to do."

Carmen pursed her lips and sighed. "I'm not sure there is anything you can do, dear. This is something that Dean has to work through by herself first, before any of us can help her."

"Yeah, it's just frustrating."

They all looked up as Dean's tall body came limping back into the kitchen. She put the phone down and turned, leaning against the counter. She looked like she wanted to say something but was having a problem coming up with the words.

"So?" Ranelle prompted.

"Cooper is on his way back to San Diego from wherever he was but he's stopping here first. His plane lands at 10 and I'm going to pick him up. Alone." With that Dean turned and left the room, not giving any of them a chance to say one word.

"Well, guess she isn't going to be talked out of this one."

"Nope, and we'd be wasting our breath to try."

Ranelle nodded and stood. She looked at mother and son briefly before turning and walking out.

Carmen stared at the swinging door. "Stubborn, isn't she."

"Oh yeah."

Carmen grunted. "My money's still on Dean, though. She had that look that she gets when she's made up her mind."

Anhtony only nodded.

****************

Ranelle paused outside of the closed bedroom door. She could hear Dean moving around inside and just paused to listen for several long moments. Then she stepped up to the door and knocked, opening it upon hearing the quiet 'come.'

She stepped in and turned to her right, seeing Dean standing in front of the closet in the process of buttoning up her shirt. Dean didn't say anything, she just stood staring at Ranelle and continued to button her shirt.

The blonde approached and stopped a step away. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't think Texans would take very kindly to me walking around outside in my pajamas, do you?"

Ranelle smiled and ducked her head. "No, why are you going to the airport alone?"

"Because I need to talk to Cooper. He sounded strange and I think he knows something, but I don't think he'll be too keen on opening up with people he doesn't know."

Ranelle shook her head. "I don't like it."

"Ranelle," Dean moved forward and with surprising tenderness cupped the side of the blonde's face, "I'm just going to the airport, what could happen?"

Ranelle blinked up at her friend for several moments, "You know, that very same thing could be said about walking through a parking lot or taking a simple trip to Portland and look at what happened when we did that!"

Dean grinned. "I promise I'll be careful but I have to go and someone has to stay here in case we get word from your reporter friends or Shelly. Okay?"

The blonde sighed and nodded her head. "Alright but I don't have to like it."

The officer smiled and grabbed her jacket before limping out of the room. Ranelle followed, resigned to letting Dean walk away and hoping she wouldn't regret it.

**************

Strolling through any major airport is a large undertaking on any day but strolling through the Dallas airport on a Wednesday afternoon was just plain nerve-wracking. Dean hated crowds, hated the noise and that the people were all so rude and pushy. Everyone was in a huge hurry to get wherever it was they were going, only to have to wait again for whatever reason. Line-ups, late planes, whatever. Hurry up and wait, Dean thought. As far as the officer was concerned, that rang true for airports more than anything else in the world.

Cooper's plane was on time and now it was a simple matter of locating him in this mass of humanity. He had said that he would be waiting at arrivals but why he couldn't come outside and wait there Dean couldn't figure out. It would have been a lot easier.

She shouldered her way through the crowds which was relatively easy with her stature. Fianlly, her keen eyes picked him out of the crowd. He was hard to miss, standing tall and proud and ramrod straight. He would have a nice mop of light brown hair if he didn't insist on having it almost as a buzz cut.

As Dean moved forward it became obvious to her that Cooper was as of yet unaware of her presence. He seemed to be intently studying two children who were avidly watching a spinning coin on a low table. The incredible joy they took in that simple task seemed to fascinate Cooper to no end.

Dean was within 20 steps of her CO when she felt a prickling at the back of her neck. Turning, she scanned the crowd and latched onto one face that was staring right at her. And that seemed very, very familiar. It was the man from her memory, the man she had had Anthony sketch, them man whose face was currently running in several different newspapers. Standing right in front of her.

Cooper broke off his observation of the children and looked up, immediately identifying the familiar bulk. He took in his subordinate's tense form and turned his head to see what held her interest. Cooper saw the man who was also staring back at Dean and before he could do anything, they both lurched into action. He wasted no time in following.

Dean knew he was on the brink of running and was moving after him before she had even consciously decided to follow. Running through the airport was no easy task, seeing as it was full of moving obstacles. Her legs screamed at her under this new and unwanted abuse but she ignored it and gamely pushed on. Tbis man could clear up a lot of questions.

She wasn't very far behind him but he did his best to slow her down. He pushed suitcases over and jostled people about. Dean kept behind him though, occasionally jumping over downed luggage and maneuvering around bodies. They skidded around a corner, the man stumbled but kept going. Dean grabbed a sturdy metal pole and used it to swing around the corner without incident.

He took off as fast as ever now several feet in front. They were coming up to a luggage belt that the man veered around to continue in the same direction.. Dean made a quick calculation and picked up speed. Three long steps and she was launching through the air right over the belt. She landed and took another step and launched up again over the other end of the belt.

She was closer now and kept on going. Dean saw the folding sign attesting to the wet floor before the man did and also knew what was going to happen. She didn't have any time to stop and they both went sliding across a wet patch of floor. There was a wall on the other side of them with built in airport lockers and a wooden bench bolted to the floor.

The man slid first with Dean right behind. His legs impacted the bench and he fell right over top of it. Dean followed suit. She hit the ground with a thud, the air knocked out of her. Dean looked up at the roof for a moment, stunned. She could sense the man right beside her stirring. He was starting to get up. Dean sat up and her hand shot out, grabbing his belt. "Oh no you don't." She growled.

Dean pulled back, not expecting the man to go with the motion. He did and planted an elbow right in her stomach. She hissed and locked her other arm around his neck. He pushed off the floor with his legs and they both slammed back into the lockers.

Dean twisted him around to her left side. He kicked out and nailed her right in the shin. Dean's whole body jerked at the impact but she kept a tight hold on the man. If he would just quit squirming I'll be able to hold onto him.

The impact was so sudden and unexpected that she had no defense against it. Her head slammed back into the lockers again as the man stood and started to run again. Cooper came to a stumbling halt, quickly deciding not to go after the man. He was already out of sight and would be impossible to catch now. He walked over to where Dean sat on the floor blinking owlishly and rubbing her head. "What in the hell did he hit me with?" Her voice was quiet and sounded severely ticked off.

Cooper crouched so he was at eye level with the stunned officer and moved her hand away from her head. "Uh, the locker door." Dean glanced to the left to see the open door and glared at it. Cooper was busy inspecting her head and sat down beside her when he was satisfied.

"So what's the diagnosis?"

He grunted. "You look fine to me. You got a little cut and are gonna have one hellva bruise is all." He sighed and looked over at the woman he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with. "You sure now how to liven up a reunion."

She turned her head and smiled. "Someone's gotta keep you on your toes, Coop."

"Right." He looked up at the crowd they had attracted and sighed. Everyone was looking at them funny. He couldn't blame them. Cooper had kept right behind Dean all the way through the airport and knew that the three of them had caused quite a ruckus. He smirked, good 'ole Dean. "You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

"Sure, but not here. Come on." Dean stood rather awkwardly and offered her hand to Cooper. He grabbed it and was pulled effortlessly to his feet.

*************

Cooper double stepped to catch up to Dean's extended stride. He by no means considered himself a small man but Dean did have incredibly long legs which she happened to be putting to good use at the moment. "Where's the fire?"

She glanced back and slowed a tiny bit, "Sorry, I just want to get out of here before we get held up for hours talking to airport security."

"You think they care?"

"If they see us in here they'll stop us. If we leave, well they might think it isn't important enough to track us down for." She looked at him over her shoulder for a moment. "Bags?"

"Oh, yeah." Cooper veered off to the right, Dean just kept walking. He huffed up next to her moments later, almost to the exit now.

"You left them alone in an airport?"

"No, grabbed a kid and asked him if he wanted to make twenty bucks."

"Ah."

They were in the parking lot now, headed directly for the Nissan. "So... what was the marathon in there about?"

"You tell me."

"What?!"

Dean looked at him briefly. "He's involved in everything... we've been running his picture in a few newspapers for the last couple of days."

Cooper pursed his lips. "Must be pretty cocky, then."

"Uh-huh."

"So why did he take the risk?" Another look was sent his way. "Wait a sec... he wasn't there to see me." Cooper shook his head from side to side. "You can't possibly think that!? I'm one of the good guys here!"

"Honestly, I'm not sure what I think."

Cooper sighed loudly and thought for a few moments as they climbed into the SUV. "Okay, why don't we forget about him for the moment. I've spent the last few months digging into everything.."

"And?"

"And I found some interesting shit. Stuff that is," he paused and wagged his hand back and forth, "out there, I guess."

"Out there?"

"Yeah."

"What kind of out there?"

"Real heavy duty shit. You'll see what I mean."

"Alright."

There was a long silence as Dean maneuvered the SUV back to her nice safe house. They had almost pulled into the drive when Cooper spoke.

"How's the head?"

"Fine, why?"

"Looks like crap."

"You have such a way with words."

He shrugged. "Hey, I just state the obvious."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Look for yourself." He reached over and turned the rearview mirror towards Dean.

"Aww... Ranelle is going to flip." Dean sighed and jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Cooper blinked after her hulking form before following.

As soon as they were through the door an audience formed. "Dean What happened?" Ranelle walked forward and reached up, gently touching the large bruise and cut.

"Just a little mishap."

Ranelle grumbled under her breath and then latched onto a large, tan hand. "Come on." She pulled Dean after her who hand to follow or risk being pulled over.

Anthony and Carmen watched them go with amused smiles before the younger Bronce turned to greet his CO. They shook heartily and exchanged brief pleasantries before deciding to move to the kitchen.

Ranelle marched into the bathroom and turned, pointing at the bathtub. "Sit."

Dean meekly sat on the edge of the tub. Ranelle frowned as she noticed the increased limp from this morning. "Do you have a.. a.."

"In there." Dean pointed at the cupboard below the sink.

Ranelle opened the door and pulled out a first aid kit. She sighed as she opened it up and took a look at Dean's head. "This looks deep, Dean."

"Does it?"

"Yeah."

"I was under the impression that it wasn't that bad." The officer reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. She was starting to get a headache. It was going to be a bad one.

Ranelle pulled out the disinfectant and turned Dean's head toward the light. "Hold still. This is going to sting." The blonde applied the liquid gently, careful not to get it into Dean's eye. "There."

"Am I good?"

"You should put some ice on your face." Ranelle commented as she tilted the dark head and studied the bruise. She looked down and saw the fleeting look of despair on Dean's face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Come on, that wasn't a nothing look. Now spill." Ranelle sat down on the floor so she was looking up at Dean.

"Just seems like I've been getting knocked on my ass a lot lately."

Ranelle blinked several times, not really having expected that answer. Although, if she had given it any thought she would have realized that it would be a real issue for the officer. "Well, that may be true but the reason for it is totally out of your control."

Dean looked up and finally made eye contact with the blonde. She raised on eyebrow and waited.

Ranelle moved forward so they were face to face and just stared for several long moments.

"How can you think it's anything other than effects from being in the hospital? Ten months ago you almost died, for Christ's sake!! Now you haven't even been out for a month and it's understandable for you to be rusty. So don't beat yourself up over it, okay?"

"You're right."

"Of course." She impulsively leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Dean for a hug. Slightly startled, it took Dean a moment to hug back. They finally broke apart but before the officer could stand Ranelle latched onto her chin, forcing eye contact.

"You do, however, need to start taking better care of yourself!"

"Ranelle..."

"Shush... just listen. One of these days you're really going to overdo it and end up with more than a limp and a bashed in face to show for it. What happened, anyway?"

So Dean told her, about going to the airport, seeing the man from her memories and the long chase through the hallways that ultimately ended with her 'getting her face bashed in', as Ranelle put it. The blonde sat back on her heels after Dean's brief synopsis. "Huh."

"Yeah, huh is right. Come on, lets go get some answers." Dean stood and pulled Ranelle up with her.

Togerher they walked into the kitchen where everyone was waiting. Dean lowered herself into a chair while Ranelle busied herself getting ice. After much puttering around she arrived at the table and handed Dean a bag. The officer smiled her thanks and settled herself, the bag held to the side of her face. "Alright Coop, you've got the floor. Make it good."

Now that the attention was focused solely on him, Cooper seemed nervous and tongue-tied. He cleared his throat several times and finally sat forward, elbows on the table and brow drawn together. "You remember that surveillance mission in Africa almost three years ago?"

"Umm... oh, yeah. There was a boat that was anchored off the coast of Africa, half in and half out of international waters. We suspected that it was carrying nuclear armaments. We spent three weeks watching it for any kind of activity."

"Right. Do you remember when you and Anthony and a few others had land surveillance duty?"

Dean just nodded and motioned for Cooper to continue. She couldn't see how this was related but was willing to wait.

"Well, from what I've found out I believe that when that convoy of people showed up on the shore you unknowingly ended up with photographic evidence of some pretty nasty operations happening with a terrorist group."

It came around a completely blind corner and hit both Dean and Anthony upside the head. They sat there staring at Cooper, stunned. He looked back at them waiting for this new information to be absorbed.

"Okay..." Dean said hesitantly, "and... what?"

"As I said before, this is where it starts to get.. um.."

"Out there?"

"Yeah." He looked around to make sure he all their attention and continued. "This group of terrorists is very, very good. They cover their tracks well and the US government doesn't know a whole lot about them. We are certain that they collect nuclear weapons which explains why they were in Africa. It is my belief that they found out about this evidence and attacked during the middle east mission in the hopes of eliminating any living witnesses."

"Well why the hell did they wait so long!?" Dean practically yelled. She was getting very ticked off, this was larger than she had first thought.

"I'm getting there. It is also my belief that there is something of a mole in the Navy."

"Yeah, we sorta figured that." The quiet statement came from Anthony who was looking rather subdued.

"Right. Well, I think that this photographic evidence ended up crossing the path of this mole. So he or she destroyed it and tried to make sure there was no trace left. Then the mole would have alerted the terrorist group and they would take action to ensure that no one would be able to identify them if someone figured everything out."

"So that's what this whole entire thing is about. Some group of terrorist are afraid of being caught so they go and cause the death of more than two dozen people!"

"It would seem that way, yes."

Dean sighed and fell back in her chair. "And you found all this out how?"

Cooper looked up and pursed his lips. "I have my ways, that's all you need to know." He solemnly looked around the room. "You are all in danger as long as these people think you two," he pointed at Dean and Anthony, "are a threat to them."

"No kidding!" Dean moved to rub her face but stopped when she touched the bruise and winced. "You have any brilliant ideas about how to prove that we don't know a goddamn thing!?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Great." Dean stood, gathered her ice bag and stomped out of the room.

Ranelle watched her, considering if she should follow or not. After a short debate she decided to let the officer calm down first.

"So," Anthony broke the brief silence, "how long are you staying around?"

"I have to leave soon. I've been gone too long already."

"How's the wife?"

Cooper looked up and blinked several times. Anthony thought he looked very concerned and couldn't figure out why. "Oh, they're um... they're great!" He smiled.

"Do you have a name?" Ranelle blurted out, not sure where the question had come from.

"Of who?"

"Of any of the terrorists?"

"Oh, I do actually." He slapped his forehead and then pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

Anthony grabbed it and studied the list with Ranelle reading over his shoulder. Half way down she gripped Anthony's shoulder and pulled back, bringing the list closer.

He looked back at her with a slight smile. "Something you see?"

"Yeah." She pointed to a name.

Anthony looked closer. All these names seemed almost unpronounceable to him. "So?"

"Shelly called today."

"I know, I was here when you spoke to her, Ranelle."

"She had identified the picture we faxed her." This time the blonde woman pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. She showed it to Anthony.

It was the same name.

"Gimme that." Cooper took the list. "Which name?"

"Here." Anthony pointed. "Do you know who he is?"

"Uh-huh, sure do. He's one of the ring leaders. Pretty high up in their little group."

"Well, according to Shelly, he has US citizenship."

The two Naval officers looked at Ranelle. "Well damn, I'd like to know who let that SOB into the country."

Anthony snorted, "No kidding."

"I think," Ranelle said as she sat back down, "the real issue is what was he doing at the airport."

"He could be here to finish what they started 10 months ago."

Anhtony looked up at Cooper and sighed. "You mean kill me and Dean."

"Yep... and with you here, well, that just makes his job a whole lot easier."

"If that's true then do you believe it was coincidence that he just happened to be at the airport when Dean was?" Ranelle wanted to stick to the important issues. Mainly how this terrorist knew that her tall friend was going to be at the airport if he was, in fact, here to finish the job.

Anthony rubbed his face. "Probably not... but if it isn't, then how'd he find out? Dean only got the call from you today, Coop. And the only people that knew were us." Anthony looked around at the occupants of the kitchen. At his mother, and a young woman that he was proud to call friend. Who he knew was very important to a certain blue-eyed Navy Commander. "I'm sure it wasn't any of us that spilled the beans."

"We should tell Dean." Cooper said as he sat back and sighed.

"Right," Ranelle stood and turned to go, pausing just before she left the room, "and just how do you propose that I find her in this monstrosity of a house?"

Antony looked up and grinned, "Luck?"

The blonde snorted as she left the kitchen.

****************

She tried the tower, empty. She knocked on the bedroom door and opened it just to make sure her friend wasn't being stubborn. Empty.

Huh.

Ranelle stopped in the middle of the hallway and thought. 'If I were Dean and wanted to be alone, where would I go. That is, if I weren't tinkering with my electronics.' After several moments of contemplation she set back out on her trek through the house.

After winding her way through the halls she finally came across the room she was looking for. Ranelle leaned against the door jam and just watched. Dean was sitting on a weight bench doing arm curls. Apparantly, before going to her little gym she had stopped and changed clothes. Now, she was adorned in a sleeveless shirt and shorts that stopped just above her knees.

Finally, the officer decided to acknowledge the intruder and blue eyes glance up. "Ranelle."

The blonde stepped further into the room. "Hey."

"What's up?" Dean stopped her arm curls and put the weight down with a loud thunk.

Ranelle came forward and straddled the bench facing Dean. She took a moment to study the officer, taking in the well define muscles along her arms and shoulders. She stopped her perusal when her eyes landed on the scaring that just barely came over Dean's left shoulder and around her biceps. Knowing how uncomfortable Dean became when her scars were paid much attention, Ranelle obligingly moved her eyes back to the officer's face.

Dean was waiting expectantly, well aware of being studied. Ranelle cleared her throat briefly before speaking. "After you left we came to some more conclusions. I forgot to tell you before but Shelly called today when you were gone. She identified the guy. He was on a list of terrorists that Cooper had. Cooper said he was one of the big important guys. We all sorta figured that he's here to finish what they started. What we couldn't figure out was how he knew you were going to be at the airport."

There was a long contemplative silence before Dean spoke up. "Alright. Can you call your newspaper buddies and ask them to stop running our picture?" Ranelle nodded. "Good. No one has come forward yet, it's doubtful that someone will. Besides, we got our man identified." Dean looked up sharply. "Was Shelly sure?"

"Oh yes, she said she checked a dozen times at least which is why it took so long."

"Good. All we can really do now is wait. If he's really here to finish us off then he'll come to us; all we can do is be ready."

Ranelle looked skeptical but agreed. She wasn't sure how smart it was to just wait around for a murdering scum-bag to come and kill you. But really, what else could they do? It's not like they could go to the police or anything. There was no evidence, all they were working on was hunches and information gleaned by a Naval officer in somewhat questionable ways. She wasn't too sure about Cooper. He seemed awfully nervous. But she got the feeling that Dean didn't totally trust him either. That made Ranelle feel better. At least she knew she wasn't being paranoid.

So she resigned herself to wait it out.

"Do you remember when we were in San Diego and you picked out three missions that you thought could be the one that this whole thing was connected to?"

"Uh-huh."

"Was the African mission one of them?"

The dark head shook. "Nope."

"So do we think that Cooper is telling the truth?"

The officer sighed as she leaned over and planted her elbows on her knees. "Yeah, I do. It fits."

"And do we know why you ruled that one out when we were in San Diego?"

"Yeah, I was working off the people who were in the Middle East with me and I had worked with before. I eliminated something I shouldn't have."

"Which is??"

The officer straightened and moved over so she was right beside the blonde woman. "I was looking at missions before our Special Ops team was formed. But there was a brief period that the Africa mission falls into where me, Anthony, and a few others spent time working with another team." There was a long pause as the officer processed that for a minute. "Oh shit!"

"What, what's wrong?"

Dean turned to face Ranelle head on. "It wasn't just my team members who were there and saw the evidence. Those people who were with us are in danger too if that terrorist group figures it out. They probably thought that that was the regular team in Africa."

The implications of that statement weighed down on the shoulders of the two women. "So what do we do?" Ranelle asked. She couldn't imagine even more people dying over this entire situation. It just wasn't right. All those people from Dean's team, dead, when most of them hadn't even seen the evidence that resulted in their demise.

"We call Shelly, she'll be able to get ahold of who was on the team and be able to warn them. Hopefully, the terrorists won't figure it out and they'll all be left alone." The officer stood and walked over to the phone on the other side of the room.

Ranelle sat and watched as Dean made the call, quietly asking another favour of the woman at the other end and warning her to be careful. What with a mole in the Navy they couldn't be too sure what would grab his or her attention and result in more death.

The call lasted several minutes and when if finally ended Dean walked back over and plopped on the bench. She sighed and Ranelle could see the lines of exhaustion and worry that were making themselves known in the officer's face. Ranelle gathered that her face showed the strain as well, especially with these new developments. She hated waiting and that's all they were doing now. Waiting for a murdered to show up, waiting for a break that would lead to the end of this nightmare. Just waiting.

"Hey Dean?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why don't you come over to my place tonight. I'll cook you dinner. It might do you some good to get out of this house for a bit." Well, who said she couldn't have a little bit of fun while waiting for a psychopathic terrorist to come slit her friend's throat? 'Oh boy,' Ranelle thought, 'I'm either going nuts or the stress is getting to me. It's the stress... yep, definitely the stress.'

Dean hardly thought about it before answering. "Sure."

"Great. I have to get going but can you swing by my place around 6?"

"Sure."

"Okay, I'll see you then." Ranelle got up and walked to the door. She turned back with one foot in the hallway. "And Dean?" The officer looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Take it easy, okay? Don't show up with anymore bruises."

"Whatever you say, Ranelle."

The blonde grinned and left the room.

**************

The blonde chef glanced out her window which happened to have a perfect view of the parking lot for the hundredth time. Dean was late. Granted, she was only late by about five minutes but as far as she knew, the officer was never late. In fact, Dean made a point of being early.

So Ranelle was concerned but wasn't about to jump to conclusions yet, there were tons of reasons that her friend could have for being late.

She turned away from the window and almost tripped over Terkers. "Hey!" Looking down, she studied the small black and white feline who promptly meowed. Ranelle shook her head and walked back to the kitchen. She had just started to stir her wonderful creation when someone knocked on her door.

Walking over, she briefly glanced out the peephole only to be met by a big hulking form dressed all in black. She pulled back from the door and raised her voice, "Dean, that you?"

The low, richly accented voice came back, "Who else would it be?"

Ranelle grinned like an idiot and opened the door. "Hi!"

"Hi." Dean walked in and turned back around to watch the seemingly very happy woman. "What's up with you?"

The blonde closed the door and turned to face her guest. "Oh. nothing." 'Get a grip,' Ranelle thought, 'and stop grinning like an idiot. You just saw the woman less than four hours ago.' But she couldn't, so she resigned herself to being happy.

"Righhttt. Tell me," Dean started as she followed the hostess to the kitchen, "do you always screen your visitors like that?"

"Huh? Oh, no. It's just, when I looked through the peephole I couldn't tell who it was because you're so tall all I saw was your body. So I asked, cause what with everything going on, I didn't want to take any chances."

"I see. I'm glad you're being cautious."

Dean leaned on the counter, not paying much heed to the little ball of fluff that was currently climbing up her leg. "So, what are we eating?"

"It's sorta this hodgepodge thing my mother used to make. It's a mix of a whole bunch of different things, it's really good."

Dean nodded and glanced down at the cat who had made her way almost to the officer's hip. Taking pity on the feline who was climbing so steadily, Dean reached down and grabbed Terkers, placing her high up on one broad shoulder. The cat seemed to like this idea as she spent a moment to process how high up she was before she promptly sprawled out on Dean's shoulder.

Ranelle looked up and laughed at the picture it made. Dean scowled at the little blonde and then sighed. "Great, I'm a cat bed."

"Awww... she lovvvvess you! And you have no right to complain, Ransom, you put her there."

"Watch it, Maloch."

"Ohhh.. I'm soooo scared."

Dean narrowed her eyes before she shook her head and stared looking around the apartment. She noticed all the books that were liberally stacked in every nook and cranny. She turned back towards the blonde who was just dishing out her hodgepodge creation. "I'm gonna take a wild swing here and guess that you really, really like to read."

"Most definitely."

"Hmm.... remind me of that the next time you're over at my place."

"Why?"

Blue eyes looked up and twinkled. "It's a surprise."

Ranelle looked up and Dean fully expected the blonde to growl. "Evil. I hate waiting for surprises!"

"Well, you'll have to wait or else I won't show you at all."

"Fine! Come on, food's ready."

The officer walked over, plopped the purring cat on the floor where she belonged and settled into a chair. They ate in comfortable silence until Ranelle decided to break it. "You were late."

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Rachel showed up like she said she might not long after you left. She, of course, made an appropriate amount of fuss over my nice bruise. And then I had to give her the whole story because she wasn't satisfied with 'I got hit in the face.'"

"You didn't tell her?"

Dean looked up, confused. "Of course I did."

"No, no... before now, you didn't tell her?"

"No."

"Why?"

The officer put her fork down and sat back to look at the blonde woman. "Why would I?"

"Well, she's your sister, she cares about you." Silence. Ranelle shook her head and sighed. "You really aren't used to informing people about things that are going on with you, are you?"

"Not really, no."

"How come?"

Dean pursed her lips and thought about it for several moments. "Probably because I've pretty much been on my own for a long time. I never saw family or friends very often and when I did, I really didn't want to talk about work. It wasn't their business anyway."

"Right, well, we're going to have to work on this communication thing, okay?"

The officer grinned at Ranelle and continued eating. "Whatever you say."

They finished their meal with friendly conversation with Dean commenting many times about how good the food was. They did the dishes together and finally ended up sitting side-by-side on the couch. "So, how 'ya doing?"

The officer turned so she was facing the smaller woman across from her and smiled. "That sounds like a question to just fill the silence."

"Well, sorta. But you look.. tired, edgy."

Dean shifted and looked down at her lap uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, this entire thing is making me edgy and will until we get some closure."

"Hmmm... you know, I am eventually going to have to write that article."

"Yep." The dark head nodded.

"So, you wanna tell me what happened, after you um..."

"Fell down the stairs?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay." She said it quietly, turned so she was staring at the coffee table in front of them and took a deep breath.

**************

31 steps.

31 steel steps with somewhat pointed edges.

You know, because you have been counting them every morning during your workout for the last three weeks.

31 steps, and each time any part of your body impacts one, if feels like the equivalent of falling out of a second story window and hitting hard, cold, frozen ground, you have that much momentum.

There is nothing to grab onto, nothing to stop your journey down to the first sub-level. You gave up trying, having found that it only inflicted damage on your fingers. You're sure that some of them are broken. You're also sure that you felt something in your side break, meaning your ribs. You resign yourself to the fall, resolving to wrap your arms around your head and hope you aren't knocked unconscious.

Finally, you land at the bottom, the air knocked out of your lungs. You stay there for a moment, gasping for breath through the bandana on your face and taking stock of your situation, mildly surprised that you are still conscious. Besides the fire that is still running along your back and legs, a now pounding headache and aching ribs, you decide that you are still in pretty good shape.

Now you know that the enemy is still around and to be extra cautious when you head up the stairs again with the remaining support personnel. Suddenly, you think of Bronce and know that if he is still all right that he would have returned long ago. You know you can't dwell on the loss of a friend now or you will more than likely die too. There will be time enough for that later.

You manage to get your body moving and sit up, gradually you move to a standing position. You reach up and feel your head, your hand comes back bloody. There is a cut above your eyebrow. You sigh and then wince as that aggravates your ribs. You quickly pull yourself together and motion the support personnel up the stairs, warning them of the gas on the upper floor and telling them to cover their mouths. You take point with an armed rear guard.

As you come to the top of the stairs you tell the others to wait as you step out and scout around, looking for any sign of the person who knocked you down the stairs. The area seems clear so you motion the others up, and urge them to hurry out the door. On the way out you hear a groan and turn. You walk through the debris and come across one of your men. He is barley conscious and sports a nasty head wound, but he is alive and you can't leave him here. You can't seem to recall his name.

You bend down and heave his smaller frame onto your shoulders and head out of the building. You run toward the trees and hand him off to some anxiously waiting support personnel who can get him back to the rendezvous point. You ask about the number of people at the meeting point and the number reported to you is frightfully low. You turn and go back, against the protests of the support personnel. People are missing, and you'll be damned if you're going to leave them behind when they may still be alive.

***************

Dean stumbled to a halt, her eyes shifting restlessly around the room. Ranelle moved over and raised her arm, gently placing it across Dean's back. The officer was very close to losing her composure.

Dean looked over at the woman beside her, at the pain that was obvious in Ranelle's face. For her. It broke her. The officer leaned down and wrapped her arms around Ranelle's middle, burying her face into the blonde's stomach and just cried.

Ranelle leaned over the strong body that had collapsed into her lap, tracing gentle patterns across Dean's back. "Shh... it's alright. You're okay.. shhh." Ranelle sat, not quite sure what she could do to help.

So she just held on.

**************

The young blonde sat, staring vacantly at the wall in front of her. She had her arm wrapped around Dean's broad shoulders as the taller woman slept. She wasn't sure how they had ended up like this. After finishing this latest segment of events, the taller woman had been a mess, much like the first time she had revealed some past events. So Ranelle had offered Dean any support and comfort she could, and the officer eventually found her way to a reclining position, head and shoulders resting on Ranelle's lap.

Terkers had found her way into the large group cuddle and was curled up in front of Dean's stomach, purring away like the little motor she was.

Not long after she laid down, Dean had drifted off into a restful slumber.

That was about four hours ago.

Looking down at the dark head in her lap, Ranelle took a moment to think about her friend. At first, she had regarded the officer as nothing more than a source of information. A faceless name. Quickly after meeting her though, Ranelle found that Dean was so much more than that. She was a complex and interesting person, with so many different levels and facets to her personality that it was mind boggling. One moment they could be joking around with each other, the next Dean could hit a serious and touchy subject and show all the cold heartlessness of a person who had seen death and destruction and become somewhat immune to it.

And yet, despite the fact that she had seen this exhibited in the tall officer, Ranelle couldn't find it in herself to fear the other woman. Because she had also seen Dean be gentle and caring, and had found refuge in those strong arms.

So they became friends, but there was something more. Ranelle scrunched her brow up as she thought, trying to focus in on what else was there. Dean was a very good friend, true. But she was more than that, because Ranelle never remembered caring this much about any other friends. Not Stacey or Brock or even her cousin.

What exactly did Dean mean to her, that was the real question.

Why did she sometimes find herself almost drowning in those blue eyes?

Looking down once again at the woman sleeping so trustingly in her arms, Ranelle found her answer. And she sat stunned.

She was in love.

Plain and simple.

Ranelle looked down at the head in her lap, her breathing shallow as she blinked and tried to get her brain working again. Love, it was something she had never gone looking for but it had managed to sneak right up on her. Ranelle blinked and stared. Slowly, a large grin started to break out across her face. She was in love. Ranelle wanted to get up and sing and dance. She settled for a quickly muffled whoop of joy.

A hand found its way across a mouth as Ranelle looked down, eyes wide, hoping she hadn't woken her friend. Seeing that Dean was still sleeping, the hand removed itself to reveal a grin.

"I'm in love." It felt good to say it, Ranelle decided. She shifted, wanting to get up and get on with life so she could explore this newly discovered emotion.

In a matter of weeks she had managed to fall in love with one of her best friends.

And she knew that it was love. There was no doubt.

Ranelle had only fancied herself in love one other time in her life. It had been somewhat like this, but a lot milder. The intensity that she felt simply being with Dean had been absent then.

'Well', Ranelle thought as she leaned back, 'now that you figured it out, what are you going to do?'

Then another thought hit her.

She didn't know if Dean was gay.

Her newfound joy was quickly subdued as this thought sobered her mood.

In all the time they had spent together, all the conversations they had had, the subject of relationships had never once come up. Nor that of gays. She didn't know if Dean knew she was gay. Ranelle suspected that Dean suspected Ranelle was.

The blonde thought about when they had first met at the club. She had been with Carly and Dean had made a vague comment about interrupting. If Ranelle remembered correctly, the officer had used the term 'that' accompanied with a vague hand gesture.

Considering how smart and observant she knew her friend to be, Ranelle decided that Dean suspected she was gay from observing her interaction with Carly. Her 'that' comment was most likely purposefully vague so there would be no chance of offending.

It made sense and seemed to fit with Dean's way of approaching things.

Ranelle shook her head to clear it, she had gotten way off topic. The important thing was whether or not Dean was gay. The answer to that question really had no bearing on if Dean knew she herself was.

Any further pondering was interrupted as the blonde felt the body in her grasp gain more tension and knew that Dean was going to wake up. Ranelle waited patiently.

A quiet voice soon broke the stillness of the room. "Guess I fell asleep, huh?"

"Yeah, but you needed it."

"I suppose." Dean had not yet made any move to extract herself from her position so Ranelle happily stayed as she was. "What time is it?"

"A little after 10."

"Argh..." Dean groaned and rolled off her side and onto her back. Terkers companionably migrated to the officer's stomach now that her sliver of the couch was taken.

Dean looked up at the blonde from her new position. "You just sat here all this time?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on you and trap you here." The officer moved to sit up.

"Hey.." Ranelle pushed down on the taller woman's shoulders, "did I say I minded? I just passed the time thinking." And making some interesting revelations. Now that she had identified what she was feeling, it made some things make more sense. And she looked at Dean through slightly different eyes now. This was no longer just a friend, but the person she loved.

Running the tips of her fingers very gently over the large bruise on Dean's face, Ranelle commented, "This looks okay. I think the ice helped." Dean grunted. "Christmas is coming up."

Blue eyes zeroed in on the face above. "Is it really?"

"Yep." Ranelle paused and studied the other woman speculatively, "Please tell me you celebrate Christmas."

"Well.... what's your definition of 'celebrate'?"

"Dean!"

"What?"

"Everyone celebrates Christmas... well, almost everyone."

"It's not that I don't celebrate it, I'm just usually never around on Christmas Day. I always stop by and spend a day or two with Scott and Rachel and Maria, though. But I miss all the big stuff, you know, dinner and everything. And I always have something to give them."

"Really... you don't strike me as a shopper."

"I'm not. But if I'm out somewhere and I see something I know one of them will like, I buy it. Then it gets put away until the holidays roll around... that way, I always have something and when I remember I'm not panicked." Dean shrugged sheepishly, "I'm not the best for remembering holidays and stuff."

"Hmm... I never would have guessed."

Dean's eyes narrowed briefly before she chuckled deep in her throat. "What about you? Are you a holiday buff?"

"Yep... it was always a big thing at home and I guess I sorta carried the tradition with me when I moved here. I get together with my friends and uncle and Amanda, we have a nice big party thing. We've been doing it since I moved here. It's a lot of fun."

"I bet. So, you don't go home for the holidays?"

"Well, not really. My parents are usually away but I see my brother and sister for a few days every year. We rotate, every year we all go to a different city to meet up and spend time together. I think they're supposed to come here this year."

"Are you three really spread out?"

"Um.... well, my brother is in New York, I'm here, and my sister is currently living in Canada."

"Interesting... why are you all so far apart?"

"Well, my brother's something of an entrepreneur... I think the last time we spoke," Ranelle squinted her eyes together, remembering, "he had this idea for a dot.com thing. I'm not sure how that worked out. My sister has kind of taken after my parents and their business... she's up there taking care of some of our racers." Ranelle stopped and shifted, resettling her arm across Dean's shoulders. "I think once we all moved away and our parents started traveling more we kinda lost interest in keeping up the tradition. So I guess it isn't a tradition anymore, huh?"

"Guess not. Do you miss it?"

"Um... I, yeah, I do. I mean, I love my parents and even though we all never were that close to them I miss them."

"So why don't you call them or something?"

Silence.

"Ranelle?" Dean sat up and turned so she was sitting beside her friend.

"I guess I'm afraid that if I do they'll say no and I'd just rather not..."

"Hey," Dean moved hesitantly forward and touched the younger woman's cheek, "why would they say no?"

The blonde shook her head and sniffled, "I dunno." She started to cry.

Dean didn't hesitate, or think twice, she just wrapped her long arms around her friend and pulled the young woman closer to her. Genlty rocking them back and forth, Dean just held on and made gentle shushing sounds.

'Great,' Dean thought, 'she's crying. Now what am I supposed to do?'

After a moment Ranelle seemed to have gathered herself and stopped crying. She was still firmly burrowed in Dean's arms and had no inclination to move any time soon. She was warm and safe and... Ranelle paused, and Dean smelled really good. Nice and clean, like laundry detergent and baby powder.

"I'm sorry..." Ranelle started hesitantly, "I just.."

"Hey, it's alright. I've cried on you, it's only fair that you get to cry on me. We don't have to talk about this if it upsets you so much. Okay?"

"Okay."

So they sat, comfortably enclosed in the safety of the other's presence. Silent. Just breathing. Just feeling. Just falling in love.

Part 6

Two bodies surged up off the couch at the insistent pounding on the door. Ranelle heaved a large sigh and ran her hands over her hair. Looking up, she threw the officer a look as if to say 'Now what?'

Dean shrugged and stood somewhat awkwardly in front of the couch as the blonde stomped to the door that was still being pounded on.

Swinging the door open Ranelle was somewhat startled to see her cousin standing there, arm raised to start another round of pounding. Before the blonde could say anything, Amanda marched into the apartment and rounded on her cousin.

"What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you look like you just got out of bed! It's 12:30 and we're supposed to go for lunch. I got worried when you never showed."

"12:30..." Ranelle sounded awed as she threw a look over her cousin's shoulder.

Amanda turned sharply to see Dean still standing in front of the couch, looking extremely uncomfortable. Amanada's eyebrow rose high on her forehead as she took in both women's appearance, scenarios flying through her mind.

"Is it really 12:30?"

Looking back over at Ranelle, Amanda nodded.

Dean sighed and ran her hands across her face. "I can't believe we slept that long," she muttered to herself. Suddenly, her head jerked up and a silent oath left her lips. Worried eyes locked in on Ranelle's face as the officer pointed vaguely at the phone, "I should call Anthony. He's probably out of his mind."

Ranelle nodded and waved her hand. "Go." She watched as the tall body slunk off to the kitchen and then turned to her expectant cousin. Seeing Amanda's look, Ranelle collapsed back into a chair. "Don't look at me like that. Dean came over for supper, we fell asleep on the couch. I guess we both needed it."

"Right."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"I know that, geesh!"

Their argument was interrupted by the entrance of a certain Naval Commander. Looking briefly between the cousins, Dean's restless eyes finally settled on Ranelle. "Um, Anthony's fine. I told him I'd be home right away. Ao, um... thanks for dinner and I guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah."

Dean turned to go but stopped. "Oh! Anthony said that he got a call from those detectives from Portland. They said the arson case is now officially closed, there are no suspects and little evidence." She shook her head. "Kinda hard to believe that no one saw anything when they're right in the middle of a residential district."

"So we're all free of suspicion?"

Dean blinked and looked up. "Do you really think they would have been that willing to let us all leave if we were seriously suspected for setting the fire? No, they were just covering their asses by making sure they checked everything out." The dark head nodded a few times, as if confirming something internally.

The officer moved to the door and stopped with one foot in the hallway. Looking back over her shoulder she met green eyes that had something new in them. Something she couldn't identify. Dean spent a moment staring, trying to figure out what it was. After a moment's hesitation she smiled, "See ya around, Ranelle."

And she left.

Amanda watched Ranelle as Ranelle watched Dean. She confirmed something that she had first recognized at the restaurant during Ranelle's celebration dinner. Ranelle looked over to see her cousin staring at her. "What?"

"You really love her, don't you?"

Ranelle just sat and blinked a few times. "Bu.. I... um, what did you say?!"

Amanda's eyebrows raised. "Please tell me that you recognize what you're feeling?"

"How did you know?"

"It's all over your face whenever you look at Dean. How could I not know? And give me some credit, please. After trying to set you up for more than a year I should hope that I realize when you fall in love." Amanda paused and shifted. "Does Dean know?"

"What!!" Ranelle surged up off her chair. "No," she shook her head rapidly, "nononon, she does not. I only just..." Ranelle stopped speaking and gestured helplessly at the couch.

Amanda looked at the couch and then at her cousin. Couch. Cousin. Couch. She spoke slowly and inquisitively, "You only just...." she looked back to her cousin, "figured it out for yourself, right?"

Ranelle groaned and fell back into her chair. "Yes." Terkers chose that moment to leap up onto Ranelle's lap. The blonde was more than happy to start petting her feline while her cousin watched. "This is such a mess."

"Why?"

"I don't know if Dean is gay."

"You don't know.... oh, for Christ's sake! Do you two even look at each other?! I mean really, truly look at each other. Obviously you don't or you'd see it in each other's faces."

Ranelle sniffled and looked up. "What do you mean?"

Amanda sighed and flopped back onto the couch. "If the expression that I see on that woman's face when she looks at you isn't love, then I don't have a clue what love is."

"What do you mean?"

"Arghh!! Are you listening to me here? When we were at that restaurant, Dean was very tense and kinda dour looking. But when she looked or spoke to you everything softened. Her posture, her eyes, even her voice. That was the only time she really laughed or smiled fully. When she was looking right at you. I'm saying that it's obvious she loves you."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

Ranelle nodded her head a few times before Amanda interrupted. "Come on, get changed. We'll go out for lunch, or brunch in your case. I'll feed the little monster." Amanda walked off to the kitchen with the little monster at her heels.

The blonde stood and moved off to her room, thinking of what Amanda said. 'It's obvious that she loves you.'

Ranelle grinned.

****************

She pulled up to the house and parked. Rachel smiled as she got out of the car and looked up at the sunny sky. It was a nice day, not too hot, just nice. The Italian walked up to the heavy wooden door and walked in.

Looking around, she once again marveled at the house. As an architect, Rachel had a fondness for just looking at buildings. But this house, once belonging to her grandfather and now her sister, took her breath away every time she walked in.

Shaking off her admiring stupor, Rachel looked around and realized that the house was very quiet. "Decano! Hey, where are ya?" She started walking, poking her head into the kitchen and then knocking on her sister's door. It was odd that no one was around, not Dean or Anthony or Carmen.

Her sister tended to keep to the front end of the house, so Rachel decided to conduct her search in that fashion. After several minutes of opening doors she finally found her quarry.

"Ah-ha!!" Rachel moved into the weight room where her sister was sitting. "I swear, Dean, you have to put an intercom in this house or something."

Dean looked up and grinned at her little sister. "That's a good idea."

Rachel went over and sat, just watching Dean finish up. Finally, the weight was put down and Dean turned to look at her sibling. "So, what brings you out here?"

"Christmas."

"Christmas." Dean repeated as she stood to fetch her water bottle. "What about it?"

"You do know that it's almost Christmas, don't you?"

"Yes, Rachel. I do."

"Good. I want to actually see you this year, for dinner, instead of three of four days after."

"I dunno, Rach."

"Oh come on. It'll just be us, you, I'll invite Scott and Maria will be there. Anthony and Carmen are more than welcome if they're still here. You can ask Ranelle, too. We just want to see you. Sarah and Kris will be ecstatic. They can't figure out why you always show up but not on the right day."

Dean winced. Sarah and Kris. Her niece and nephew. If Rachel was brining them into this, it meant her sister was determined and not above laying on the guilt. Dean took a long drink from her water bottle and set it on the bench. "Fine, I'll come."

"Whoo!!" Rachel got up and did a little jig before she flung herself at Dean. The officer caught the flying body and administered a bone-crushing hug. "Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!!!"

Dean laughed. "You're welcome, but if it meant that much to you, you could have just said so."

"Whatever, you're coming and that's all that matters." Rachel peeked over Dean's arm at the floor that was much further away than she was used to. She patted the bicep closest to her and looked up, "You can put me down now, big guy."

She was lowered gently to the floor by strong arms. "Hey, where are Anthony and Carmen?"

"Huh, oh, I gave them my car and told them to get out of the house. Have some fun. They're due."

Rachel just nodded and looked down at the floor. Dean picked up on the changed in attitude and knew that her sister had something else on her mind. "What's up?"

"Um, mom called me." Rachel looked up to see Dean staring back, a dispassionate look on her face. "And she, um, asked me about you. I said you were fine. I think she wants to see you."

"No."

"No? Dean you didn't even give it any thought!"

"I don't need to. If she really wanted to see me, she would have called me and asked. Not you."

"But you would have said no for sure."

"Damn straight. And I don't appreciate her using you to try and influence me." Dean turned and left the room with Rachel scurrying after her.

"Won't you at least consider seeing them? It doesn't have to be for Christmas. I told her I was cutting my visit to them short so I could spend it with you, but I'm going up for New Year's Eve. Would you at least think about it? It'll be a little more than a day, how bad could it be?"

Rachel looked up to see Dean's jaw working. It was a sign that she was thinking and that was usually good. "Please?"

"I'll think about it but I'll make no promises. And don't expect me to say yes. Got it?"

Rachel nodded. "Got it."

"Good."

They meandered back into the kitchen and stopped. "You hungry?"

"That depends, you got any food?"

Dean looked over and smirked. "Smart-ass."

****************

Rachel moseyed into the living room to see Dean sitting on the couch and staring out the window with the most forlorn look on her face. She just watched, her sister unaware of her presence in the doorway.

After a time, Dean sighed and shifted, catching a glimpse of her sister from the corner of her eye. "Hey."

"Hey." Rachel went over and sat beside Dean. "What's wrong? You going stir crazy?"

Dean shook her head, "No, not yet."

"Well, that's good."

"I suppose."

Rachel turned so she was facing the large body that was still staring out the window. She cocked her head while studying Dean. "So, if you aren't getting cabin fever, what..." Rachel trailed off as her mind lit upon the answer. "Oh." She has seen this exact behaviour from Dean on several occasions while they were growing up. At first, she hadn't known the cause and her big sister hadn't been inclined to elaborate. But eventually, as she got older, Rachel figured it all out.

Dean got homesick. She missed Italy with an intensity that was somewhat mind boggling.

And Rachel had also learned that there was little she, or anyone else, could do to bring Dean out of this morose mood.

With her eyes still firmly planted on Dean's face, Rachel was surprised to see a sudden brightening in the taller woman's attitude. Looking out the window, Rachel saw a car pulling up that was soon exited by a certain blonde woman.

Well, Rachel thought, maybe I was wrong. Maybe there is someone who can bring Dean out of this funk.

The siblings watched as Ranelle made her way up onto the deck and knocked gently. Dean was up off the couch instantly to answer the door. Just as quickly as she had left, she returned, with Ranelle in tow.

"You don't have to knock, you know. The door is always open as long as I'm here. And I usually don't go anywhere. Except at night. I lock the door at night."

"Okay, I'll remember that." Ranelle turned to see Racehl sitting on the couch. She smiled and stepped forward. "It's good to see you again, Rachel."

Rachel nodded and smiled. "You too."

They all sat and just started to chat. Nice and easy, flowing chat that really meant nothing. The youngest Italian kept her eyes and ears open, absorbing the interaction between her sister and the kind blonde woman. And what she saw there made her very happy. That same something that she had seen between them after fixing the roof was still present. But stronger. And it seemed to Rachel that Ranelle had figured it out.

Good for her! Rachel's mind crowed happily.

Ranelle's brow scrunched slightly as she studied Dean. All of a sudden the officer was getting antsy. She started fidgeting and tapping her foot and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Um, Dean?"

Blue eyes looked up questionably.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Dean saw Ranelle raise her eyebrow and sighed. She's getting way too perceptive for her own good! Dean thought. "It's nothing, I just... um..." The officer trailed off helplessly, gesturing around the room. She didn't know how to explain it. She had been feeling unsettled since leaving Ranelle's place this morning. Add to that her sudden bout of homesickness and it made for a very unhappy Commander.

Ranelle thought she knew, and could only come up with one possible solution. "Go on."

"Huh?"

"Go on," Ranelle made a shooing motion with her hand, "go do whatever you need to do to feel better, okay?"

"Uh," Dean looked around, "you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, thanks." The officer stood and left the room swiftly.

Rachel watched her go to the front door and step outside, then shifted her gaze to Ranelle. "You really know how to read her, don't you?"

The blonde turned to face Rachel more fully. "I suppose."

"You love her, don't you?"

Ranelle blinked a few times. Am I really that transparent, she thought, that two people have told me that in the same day? Guess so. "I do. More than you could imagine."

Rachel nodded as if expecting that very answer. "I thought you might say that. So, what's keeping you from telling Dean?"

"Uh..." she opened her mouth a few times and closed it, no sound emerging. After a moment she got her brain together and came up with a hopefully coherent answer. "I, um... I don't know if she's gay?" She said it as a question, suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of this near stranger. It was obvious Rachel was looking out for Dean, and that touched something in Ranelle.

The Italian nodded. "I see." She fell silent, debating how much she should relate to this woman. Oh, what the hell! "Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not sure if Dean's gay. But that doesn't really matter. I do know that she is very much in love with you. I see it in her face and hear it in her voice." Rachel shook her head. "I've known Dean my entire life and most of hers, and I've never seen her as open and relaxed as she is with you, except with family. But she's stubborn and hardheaded and probably doesn't have a clue that she's falling head over heels in love with you."

The shrill scream of a beeper interrupted Rachel's next words. The Italian stood and looked at the small black device. "I have to go." She looked up and straight into Ranelle's green eyes. "I suggest you make the first move. You'll be waiting an eternity for Dean to wise up."

With that, she turned to go.

"Wait!" Ranelle stood and rushed to the door. "Do you know what's wrong with Dean?"

Rachel pursed her lips. "She's homesick, for one. But there's something else. I have to go."

"Yeah, okay, bye. And thanks."

"No problem."

Ranelle collapsed back onto the couch and just thought. That pretty much cinched it. Two people, one who had known Dean for the better part of the officer's 32 years and one who had just met her. They both said they saw love in the officer's face. For her.

And damned if she wasn't going to listen to them.

Ranelle surged up off the couch, her resolve solidified. She nodded to herself and stepped outside to look for her friend. She didn't give much thought to how she's find Dean, just let herself wander until the tall form came into view.

Dean was standing her back to Ranelle staring off to the east. Approching quietly, Ranelle came up next to the tall form and stepped up onto a convenient rock that brought her just about to Dean's shoulder level.

Ranelle's quiet voice broke the stillness. "You miss home, don't ya?"

"Yeah."

"You ever thought about taking a vacation back there?"

The dark head nodded. "A few times." They stood in silence some more, listening to the lively bird songs.

"What else is bothering you?"

"I'm not sure. I just feel..." Dean trailed off looking for a word. "Unsettled." The shoulder's shrugged.

"Hmm." Ranelle turned so she was facing Dean and slowly, the officer turned as well.

"Rachel leave?"

"Yeah. She got beeped."

"Did you have a good time with Amanda?"

"Yeah, I guess so. We stopped in at Hego's... Stacey said she misses you."

"Really? I'll have to go there soon."

Ranelle looked up into eyes that were, for once very close. She just stared and felt Dean staring back. The blonde looked deep, searching for the very thing that two people had easily identified. And as she looked, Ranelle saw the usual wary, guarded look in those eyes fall away.

What she saw took her breath away. She teetered a bit, but felt strong hands gently clasp her waist. Ranelle raised her own hands to Dean's shoulders and steadied herself.

Now they were face-to-face. Breathing each other's air.

Ranelle stood up on her tiptoes and made her decision, hoping that Amanda and Rachel were right.

She moved her arms up to Dean's neck and felt the officer shift, bending over. And very gently their lips met, in an explosion of love that had been a long time in the making. They took their time, very gently exploring this new emotion and making gentle promises.

Because they both knew, in the depths of their souls that this was real and right, one of those forever things.

Breathing eventually became a necessity and they pulled away, looking at each other. Ranelle smiled and leaned her forehead against Dean's chest, wrapping her arms around the taller woman and squeezing. She felt a return squeeze and for the first time Ranelle felt all the emotion that came with a simple hug.

It felt indescribably wonderful.

"Can I stay here forever?" Ranelle felt a deep chuckle move through Dean's chest in answer to her whispered question.

Dean moved her head down so her lips were right by Ranelle's ear. "Whatever you want, Ranelle. Whatever you want."

The blonde sighed happily and gave another squeeze before stepping back slightly and looking up.

And she said it with quiet conviction. "I've fallen in love with my best friend."

"Am I really your best friend?"

That hadn't exactly been the answer she was expecting, but Ranelle answered readily. "Without a doubt."

Dean smiled and leaned her forehead against the blonde woman's. She whispered very quietly. "We can start a club, then. Cause I seem to have fallen for this cute little blonde woman with an amazing personality and the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. She also happens to be my best friend."

"Yeah? What should we name it?"

"I dunno. But I do know that I love you, Ranelle. So much that it hurts sometimes." Dean moved forward and their lips met again. They spent long minutes standing outside, kissing. Eventually moving back inside when it started to spit.

Ranelle turned as Dean closed the door and laughed when the officer turned around. She reached up and wiped a raindrop off the tip of Dean's nose.

The ringing phone interrupted any conversation. Dean walked into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless before stepping back into the hallway. "Hello."

"Hey."

"What's up Scott?"

"I have two extra hockey tickets for the game tonight. You and Ranelle wanna come?"

"Just a sec. I'll ask." Dean lowered the phone and looked up at Ranelle. "You wanna go to a hockey game tonight?"

"Sure."

"Sure Scott, we're in."

"Great. I'll see you guys there. 7 o'clock."

"Okay, ciao, man."

"Bye."

Dean hung up and put the phone back. Glancing at her watch she noticed that it was now approaching 6 o'clock. Ranelle walked over and wrapped her arms around the officer's body and just stood, reveling in the delight she got from that simple task. She felt long arms wrap around her and heard a gentle sigh move through Dean's body.

"Was that a good sigh or a bad sigh?"

"Good. This feels... wonderful."

"Yeah." Green eyes looked up at the face that was so far above her head. "This might prove to be a problem, though."

Dean looked down and smirked. "Not at all." And she tensed her arms, lifting Ranelle right up to eye level. The blonde grinned.

"Ohhh, I like this."

"Mmm... me too. I love you."

"I love you too, Dean."

And they kissed again, with more certainty and familiarity. When they pulled apart Dean raised an important issue. "Dinner. You wanna go to Hego's?"

"Sure."

"Great, we better get a move on, then."

Ranelle found herself being lowered to the ground and they were soon ready to leave for a night on the town. Dean scribbled a quick note for Anthony and Carmen, grabbed her jacket and they were off in Ranelle's car.

****************

The hockey game was about as boring as it could get. The players seemed to have had a distinct lack of energy, making for a long game with no goals scored until the end of the second period. The Dallas Stars had won, one to zero.

The threesome spent the time making conversation and catching up. Scott took the opportunity to smooth a few things out with Ranelle concerning her future employment at the company. All in all it had been a pretty satisfying night. Stacey had been overjoyed to see them at the cafe, making lots of lively conversation.

The women pulled up in front of Dean's house. All the lights were out and the light rain that had started earlier had turned into a downpour. Just as Ranelle moved to exit the vehicle, Dean put a hand on her arm. "What?"

"I'm not sure. Something's not right." Looking around, Dean couldn't see any evidence that Anthony and Carmen had returned. The house looked as normal as ever, but her instincts were screaming. "Stay here."

"What?! No way. I'm coming with you."

Dean looked over her shoulder and nodded. "Alright, but stay behind me, 'kay?"

Ranelle nodded and they both stepped out into the driving rain. There were large puddles everywhere, and the wooden deck was slick with the rain. Dean approached the door carefully, studying it for signs of forced entry or anything out of the ordinary.

The door was very thick, aged wood. The chances of someone getting in without a key were slim, but you never could be too sure. Dean inserted the key and turned, hearing the lock click open. She looked over at Ranelle, her eyes glinting in the low light, and gestured the blonde to stay off to the side. She complied without hesitation.

The officer eased the door open, staying off to the side herself. Nothing unexpected happened and she listened for several moments. For things that shouldn't be there. Everything sounded normal. But still, her instincts had never failed her before.

Dean moved her large body into the house, feeling for the light switch that she knew was on the wall. Just before she turned it on, a sound to her right caught her attention. The officer turned her head to have extremely bright, white light flash into her eyes. She raised her hands to her face, trying to shake off the shock and disorientation. Dean shook her head, stepping back from the body she sensed in front of her.

The intruder surged forward and Dean backward, right out the door. She heard Ranelle's startled cry and felt herself slip on the wood, land on her back and slid down the three steps to the ground. Her head smacked the pavement and Dean lay still, fighting to stay awake. Her eyes were shut tight, they hurt for some reason.

Ranelle heard the commotion inside, the startled yelp Dean gave off right after a bright flash. Just as she moved to the door, Dean's tall body came stumbling out and slipped. The blonde moved forward and stepped to the door. She looked inside and just as she located the moving form that shouldn't be there, heard a loud pop.

Ranelle jerked backward and onto the deck, falling and landing just outside the door. She didn't know what was going on, just that her shoulder hurt like hell.

The rain gathered around the two still forms, running in rivulets down faces and arms.

Green eyes fluttered and watched, with a strange sense of detachment, as the water around her turned red with blood.

Part 7

Anthony knew, as the headlights of the Nissan illuminated the front of Dean's house that things did not bode well with his friends. He slammed on the brakes, seeing through the driving rain, Dean's unmistakable bulk stirring feebly on the ground. And Ranelle's, deathly still on the porch. And finally, a third figure, standing menacingly above the blonde woman.

Anthony opened his door, unbuckled his seat belt and threw his mother the cell phone that Dean had left in the car. As he jumped down he threw over his shoulder, "Stay here, Ma. And call the cops!!"

All of this happened in a matter of seconds, and the intruder had not yet registered that the shit was about to hit the fan. The Italian took off running, oblivious to the pounding rain and slick mud, only knowing that his friends could be on the verge of dying. When he was within two steps of the deck the intruder had finally clued in and was moving back into the house. Anthony didn't even slow, just kept going and jumped right over Dean and onto the deck. He slid a bit, but it could not deter him. Anthony was a man on a mission, powered by adrenaline.

Unstopable.

When he reached the door, Anthony executed a diving leap, reaching out his arms and bringing the attacker down. Hard.

They landed with a giant 'OOMPH' and slid slightly. It was obvious to Anthony that this person was familiar with the layout of the house when a lamp unceremoniously met his face. He shook it off, though, and came back with an elbow to the side of the attacker's head. A trick he picked up from Dean.

Thoughts of his friend served to fuel Anthony's rage even more. They tussled on the floor, throwing and receiving punches and kicks. Anthony's opponent finally pulled his gun. The Italian saw it and lunged, knocking his aim off and sending a bullet into the ceiling.

Anthony kicked out and hit the shooter's arm, watching helplessly as the gun went sliding across the floor. Taking a quick glance at his opponent, Anthony made a decision. Time was too precious to waste fooling around with a half-wit, trigger happy terrorist.

And he made one last desperate dive, aware of the intruder right at his heels. Anthony felt his hand curl around the gun. He turned, wrapped his finger around the trigger and fired two swift shots, point blank, right into the attacker's chest.

The body fell with a hollow thump, staying motionless. Anthony looked down and blinked, taking a second to let the situation sink in. And then the condition of his friend's, outside in the rain, came back to his mind. He dropped the gun and ran back to the deck.

Anthony turned the corner to see Dean kneeled over Ranelle's form. The officer was crouched over the blonde woman and it appeared, at least to Anthony, that Dean was shielding Ranelle from the rain. The dark head was bent down by the blonde one.

He slid down onto his knees, quickly taking in the bleeding hole in Ranelle's shoulder, and Dean's large shaking hands. His friend seemed completely oblivious to his presence. Anthony placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder.

The officer reared up immediately and turned slightly toward him, "Tony..." Her voice came out ragged and strained, and Anthony knew Dean was very worried. She never called him Tony.

"Dean what happened, exactly."

"I don't know... Anthony, I can't.... what's..."

Anthony looked up from feeling Ranelle's pulse, relieved that it was there, but weak. "Dean why are your eyes closed?"

"They hurt. Is Ranelle okay?"

He sighed and looked down at the massive amount of blood she appeared to have lost. Anthony pulled off his shirt and pressed it against the wound, trying to stop the stem of blood. "I dunno... the ambulance should be here soon."

Dean nodded vacantly and leaned back down next to where she figured Ranelle's ear to be. She had managed to stay conscious, barely. But her eyes hurt and she really didn't want to open them up and see if that helped. And her head was pounding.

So Dean settled for what calmed her the most. She whispered gently into the blonde's ear, knowing that on some level, Ranelle could hear her. Gentle things, promises, pleas. They had just acknowledged their love, this couldn't be the end. Dean wouldn't let it be the end.

And so they waited. Three forms in the rain. One barely living, the second zoned out completely, and the third worrying about the first two.

A fourth watched, with sad, apprehensive eyes, as her entire future was decided on the rainy deck in front of her. Her son was her world, and Carmen was quickly realizing that these two women meant almost as much as Anthony did.

And finally, after an endless eternity of waiting, the whaling of sirens was heard. It came closer and closer until Anthony looked up, relieved, to see the flashing red and blue lights. The ambulance screeched to a halt, the crew clambering out and over to the deck in seconds. The police cruiser that was hot on the ambulances heels soon ejected it's drivers as well.

"Dean?" Anthony spoke gently to his friend and put a hand on her shoulder. "Dean, we have to move so the paramedics can help Ranelle, okay?" The officer nodded dumbly, still mumbling quietly.

Anthony gently pulled his friend away to sit on the steps and out of the way. He was terrified. It was obvious that Dean was pretty far gone. He knew why, too. Just seeing Ranelle laying there in her own blood brought back horrific memories of their time in the middle east. It made his guts quake just thinking about it, and he had gone to a 'head shrinker', as he liked to call them. Anthony could hardly imagine what kind of effect this was having on his friend. It certainly didn't help that Dean was hopelessly in love with Ranelle, either.

Anthony knew that if the blonde died, it would break his friend.

The Italina looked up as he heard people approaching. He took in his mother's tense visage, and the form of the police officer walking beside her. "Hey, Dean?" Anthony looked at the officer and saw a flicker of acknowledgment in her eyes. "Stay here, 'kay?"

An almost imperceptible nod was his only answer.

"What's up?" He asked his mother once he was in speaking range.

The police officer circumvented any answer, "Is that the property owner?" He asked, with a nod in Dean's direction.

Anthony raised his eyebrow at the term 'property owner'. Didn't this guy have any idea what had happened here? "Uh.. yes, she is. But she really isn't in any condition to talk to anyone right now."

"Hmph." The officer shouldered past Anthony and started toward Dean's huddled form.

"Hey!" Anthony double stepped and got in front of the man. "Listen to me! Dean's hardly coherent at the moment. Now you have a dead body in that house which is much more important than talking to one of the victims of a crime." Anthony took a breath a tried to calm down. "Now, officer, I would think that going in there and doing whatever you need to do is much more important than attempting a fruitless conversation with my friend."

The officer glared for a moment and angled his steps away from Dean and more toward the door to the house. Anthony glared at his back for a moment before going back to his friend. Carmen was kneeled in front of Dean, trying to see up into her face. She looked up when her son approached. "Do you know what she's saying?"

"No... I think it's Russian."

"Rus... oh.. I keep forgetting that she's half Russian and knows the language. It's much more common to hear Italian come out of those lips."

"I know." Anthony looked around. "When did they take Ranelle away?"

"During your pissing contest with that police officer."

"Mother!!"

Carmen looked up and smirked, but it faded quickly when she turned back to the troubled Dean. The sound of another ambulance caused Anthony to raise his head and then look at his mother. Carmen shrugged, not knowing why it had arrived.

This ambulance stopped with far less urgency, it's two-people crew coming over with equipment and a single-minded intensity.

The female paramedic knelt down next to Carmen. She spent a moment studying Dean, looking speculative. "Is it alright if I check her out?"

"Um.." Anthony looked at his mother and then back to the medic. "I think so. She's kinda out of it, though. Just... be careful."

The medic nodded and gently placed her hand on Dean's chin, attempting to raise the dark head. Dean had her legs up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her head was buried in the long arms. She had started rocking, very gently, back and forth, not long ago. Dean looked, for all the world, like a forlorn child.

"Sir?" Anthony looked up to see the woman's partner standing above him with a blanket and kit. As the material was placed over his shoulders, Anthony realized just how cold he was in the rain without a shirt. He clutched it to his chest, gratefully. "Will you let me take care of that?" The medic pointed to an upside down V cut on the Italian's nose.

Anhtony nodded absently and waited rather impatiently for the paramedic to put a nice little bandage on it, stopping the blood from running down Anthony's face and into his mouth.

When raising the officer's head was deemed as impossible, the female paramedic got down on her hands and knees, attempting to look up into Dean's face. "Do you know what happened?"

"No... when we got here everything had already happened. She said her eyes hurt, though, and that she didn't want to open them. And I think she smacked her head on the ground."

"Yeah?" She moved from her spot on the ground and gently felt the back of Dean's skull. At one point, the officer flinched visibly and the medic's hand came back slightly bloody. "Yeah.... well, if I don't get some cooperation, there wont be much I can do. And what on earth is she saying?!"

"Why? Does that matter?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It might be helpful."

Anhtony bowed his head and squinted, thinking. "Cell phone!" Carmen's ears perked up at that as she handed her son Dean's cell phone. He flicked it on and cruised through the numbers in the phone book, finally deciding on one. "Come on... pick up.." he murmured, listening to the faint ringing.

A sleepy "Hello" finally answered him.

"Rachel! Rachel, it's Anthony."

"Anthony... what..." suddenly, Rachel's voice came through stronger. "What happened?!"

"Um.." How to answer that? "We had some problems... listen, I need you to translate for us."

"Translate?"

"Yeah.. Dean's not making much sense. Just listen, 'kay?" With that, Anthony moved the phone close to Dean's mouth, hoping Racehl would be able to hear. And make sense of it all. And snap Dean back to reality.

After several long moments of silence, Anthony pulled the phone back to his ear with an impatient, "Well?"

"It's nothing much.... sounds like she's pleading, you know, stuff like 'Don't let this happen again' and whatnot. Now what happened, is Dean alright!?!"

Anthony sighed, "To tell you the truth, I don't know. We can't seem to get through to her, she's totally zoned out on us."

Rachel was silent, her breathing coming over the line loud and clear. Anthony waited anxiously, his mother and the medic both staring at him.

The rain continued to fall, the wind howled. An eerie background for the muted hum of police officers. And then a quiet command came, whispered in the ear of a young Italian man, "Lemme talk to her."

Anthony put the phone up next to Dean's ear with little hesitation. Frankly, he was out of ideas and if anyone had a chance of breaking through, besides Ranelle, it was Rachel.

The Italian winced as he heard shouted words in another language come from the phone. There was no reaction from Dean. The officer continued to sit there, gently rocking, softly muttering, her mind a million miles away and in a better place. Or maybe not, maybe her mind was in the worst place possible and that was part of the problem.

With aching slowness, Dean's head turned to the left and lifted ever so slightly. Her brow puckered, her eyes fluttered, the muttering stopped, and hope soared up in the hearts of the watchers.

And the only testament to returning clarity was a hoarsely whispered, "Rachel?"

Rachel's breath caught at the sound of her big sister's voice. For one instant she choked on her tears and then managed to force out some words. "Yeah Dean, it's me. Listen, you have to focus, let Anthony and Carmen and the paramedic help you. Let them take care of you. Once they do you can go see Ranelle. That's what you want, right? Well the only way it's going to happen is if you stay strong and focused. Do you hear me?" She finished in a strained and tearful voice, praying that she was heard and understood.

Dean's dark head nodded slowly before she realized Rachel couldn't see her. "Yeah, I hear you."

"Good."

Anthony took back to phone and quickly gave Rachel the name of the hospital they would eventually end up in. He hung up and then turned his attention back to his friend.

"Okay," the paramedic scooted forward and got her first good look at her patients face, "What the hell?" She got closer, gently placing her hand on Dean's chin to guide the officer's face into the light. She felt the slight flinch at the contact and apologized quietly.

As she studied what looked like mild burn marks around Dean's eyes, a low voice above her head startled her. "What's your name?" Dean was still whispering and the medic felt inclined to whisper back.

"Wendy."

"Hello Wendy. Do you know how my friend is?"

Wendy smiled and looked at the noble face above her. "You're more worried about your friend that yourself, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Last I heard everything was fine. She lost a lot of blood and gave the doctors a scare once they got to the hospital, but they stabilized her and sent her up to surgery."

The dark, wet head nodded slightly.

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Wendy watched as Dean's eyelids raised slowly, eventually revealing hazy looking blue eyes. The paramedic saw the confusion and brief flash of fear cross the officer's face. "Dean, what do you see?"

"N.. nothing."

Wendy nodded slightly. "Absolutely nothing? No shadows, no gray areas, no outlines. Nothing at all?"

Dean's head shook. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yes."

"Alright. What about the rest of you. How do you feel, otherwise?"

"My head hurts, but that's all."

"Okay, lets get you to the hospital, then. I can't really do anything."

Anthony helped Dean to stand up on wobbly legs and guided her toward the ambulance, throwing worried looks to his mother who was on Dean's other side. The two friends settled in the ambulance, Dean adamant that she would not be left alone when she couldn't see.

Carmen decided to follow in Dean's SUV, knowing that having a vehicle at the hospital would be a good idea.

And so Dean sat, tightly clutching Anthony's hand with her own, a comfort she normally wouldn't allow herself but could not go without at that moment in time. She needed something to ground her, both physically and mentally. Having Anthony's hand in a death grip seemed the most reasonable way to keep her mind from drifting back to the horror of the Middle East.

All the while only one thought ran through her mind, above all the other chaos and worry.

I'm blind.

******************

"Okay, that's about it." The doctor stepped back from his large and dour looking patient sitting on the bed. "There really isn't much I can do about your eyes, especially since I don't know exactly what happened. You may get your sight back, or not. You'll just have to wait."

Dean nodded dully and hopped off the bed. She had no concussion, which was good. All she wanted to do was go see how Ranelle was doing. "Can I go?"

"Yes, yes. Go ahead." The doctor moved out of Dean's way and watched as the tall woman started cautiously moving out of the room, one hand trailing along the wall.

The officer stood still for a few moments once she was out in the hall, trying to cope with everything. She only had her hearing to rely on and at the moment her mind was far too stressed and tired to sort out the influx of sounds.

"Dean?"

Ah, that voice she knew, and was overjoyed to hear.

"Rachel." Dean turned her head toward her sister and held out an arm. It was grasped tightly, followed by her sister's familiar form. Dean wrapped her long arms around Rachel and just held on for several moments, taking great comfort in the contact.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm better than I was."

Rachel pulled back and looked up at her sister. Dean looked horribly unkept, with blood still staining her clothes that found a reason to continue dripping. Her eyes, once sharp and intelligent looking were now dull and lifeless. Rachel reached up and gently ran her fingertip across one of marks just below Dean's eye.

"I thought they would have wanted to wrap 'em up or something."

"They did, I didn't let them."

"Alright, lets go see Ranelle." Rachel grasped Dean's larger hand in her own, surprised when the officer allowed the contact to continue.

They snaked their way through the corridors and crowds of people, finally arriving in a small waiting room already occupied by Anthony and Carmen.

"When can I go see her?" Was the first thing out of Dean's mouth once they stopped walking. She felt a slight pang in her chest when she realized that she would not actually get to 'see' Ranelle. "Is she okay?"

Anthony came forward and pushed a bag into Dean's hands. "She's going to be fine. Her surgery went wonderfully. They figure she'll be in the hospital for a week or so, she'll need some physical therapy for her shoulder but other than that she'll be fine. You can see her in about half an hour. She probably won't be very coherent, though." Anthony finished repeating what he had just recently been told by the doctor. "Now go change so that when she sees you, she won't flip out."

Dean nodded and turned as Rachel pulled her away and toward a bathroom. Ten minutes later, Dean was dry, changed, clean, and according to Rachel, looked presentable. Now all they could do was wait.

Rachel sighed as Dean shifted restlessly once again. She leaned over and whispered, not wanting to disturb a few other people who were sleeping in the chairs. "Is something wrong?"

"No."

"Dean?"

There was a long silent pause and then a sigh.

"I hate hospitals. I especially hate waiting in them."

"Is it bothering you that much?"

Dean shifted uncomfortably and pulled at the material of her sweat pants. Carmen had grabbed some clothes for both her and Anthony before she came to the hospital. The woman knew just what to get. A nice soft pair of sweat pants and a sleeveless sweatshirt.

"Sorta... when I had something to do it didn't bother me, but now all we're doing is waiting." She shrugged and sat back.

Rachel put her head on Dean's shoulder and stared at the wall in front of her. What a horrible day.

Finally, the doctor came in and repeated almost to the letter what Anthony had said. Dean sighed in relief, her mind more at ease now. Ranelle was in a regular room by herself and they were allowed to go in.

The foursome departed the waiting room and quietly entered. Dean walked over to the bed and sat down on a chair beside it, very gently placing her hand on the side of Ranelle's face. The officer really wished she could see Ranelle's face. Wished that the later part of this day had never happened, or at least that the blonde had never been shot.

A thought occurred to her and Dean turned her head. "Anthony?"

"Hm?"

"What happened to the..."

"Dead."

She nodded and put her head down on the edge of Ranelle's bed, silent tears running down her face. A whispered 'I love you' floated into the air as Dean fell into sleep, content now that she was in the presence of her heart and soul.

*************

Green eyes fluttered and then blinked open. She didn't hurt that much and she suspected that was due to the drugs more than anything else. She hardly remembered what had happened. She cast her mind back and thought long and hard.

Ah.

The hockey game with Dean, going home, and then.... something had been wrong. Dean had told her to stay back. She had, only to see the officer's tall body go stumbling back out of the house.

That's where it stopped. She thought she remembered a few things, but it wasn't anything concrete.

Ranelle turned her head to the right, taking in the dark one that was laying on the bed beside her. "Dean?" Her voice sounded quiet and hoarse to her own ears. She tried again with the same lack of results.

Ranelle wiggled the fingers of her right hand, fishing around for what she was looking for. Her hand finally wrapped around Dean's bare forearm and squeezed. That did the trick.

Dean jerked up off the bed and shook her head. "Ranelle?"

"Yes."

"You're awake?"

"Yes."

Dean grinned and turned her head slightly. There were other people in the room, that much she knew. What she couldn't figure out was who those people were. "Rachel?"

Ranelle's brow puckered. She thought Dean was acting awfully strange.

Rachel stirred from her position on the floor and sleepily got up. She stumbled over to the bed and shook herself out, trying to wake up some more. "Dean what... oh!" Her eyes took in Ranelle's face, awake and alert. "You want some water?"

"Please."

Rachel moved and got a little cup with a straw. She kicked Anthony in the shin on her way back to the bed. "Oww! What was that for?"

"Wake up."

He grumbled and stood, stretching his back out. "Wake up... she says. I feel like we just went to sleep." The Italian looked up and smiled. "Ranelle! You're awake! Wonderful, I'll go get a doctor and some," he looked at the people in the room, "coffee. Definitely gonna need some coffee." With that he turned and left.

Ranelle took a drink and then turned her head back toward Dean. Despite having an extra hole in her body she felt pretty okay. But that was probably the drugs. "Hey, Dean? Would you look at me please?"

Dean sighed, aggravated. She turned her head and aimed her eyes to where she figured Ranelle's head was. Ranelle studied the officer, knowing that something was off. It only took a moment before it clicked. "What happened to your eyes."

"I don't know what happened, but I know the result."

Ranelle lifted her right arm and waved her hand in front of Dean's face. "You can't see."

A nurse bustled in at that moment, and Dean turned away, glad to have a reprieve from this conversation. She stepped out into the hall, followed by Rachel and Carmen.

"You're gonna have to face it eventually, Decano."

"I know. I just.... I don't want anything getting in the way of her getting better."

"Well she knows something is wrong now. The only way you'll keep her from worrying is telling her everything."

Dean nodded. "You always have to be right, don't you Rach?"

"Yep."

"Hmph."

They all stood leaning against the wall, the hospital surging on around them. Until a female voice broke the tableau.

"Hey Navy guy!"

Dean stepped away from the wall and turned her head toward the voice. "Stacey?"

"Navy guy!" It came again, this time followed by the definite skid of shoes on the floor. Dean sensed a body stop in front of her and put out a hand, steadying the out of breath person.

"Stacey... that you?"

"Of course it's me! Who else calls you Navy guy?" And then the curly haired woman looked up at her friends face, saw the marks around the unfocused eyes and she caught a clue. "Oh, Dean." Stacey tenderly ran her fingers down Dean's cheek and sighed. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine Stacey. How did you know that Ranelle was here. None of s called you..." Dean trailed off as she realized that no one had called any of Ranelle's family. Aww shit! She shook her head slightly and muttered a few choice curses. That's being responsible and considerate, you big lug!

Her internal berating was interrupted before it could go too far. "Joanna called us."

"Joanna?"

"Yeah. You know, Brock's girlfriend? A nurse? Works at this hospital?"

"Ohh... right. I'm sorry that no one here called. I mean, I would have except..."

Stacey broke in, "Except you were hurt yourself, very worried about Ranelle, probably dead tired and it completely slipped your mind. Of course, if you had remembered you probably would have had a problem getting the phone number. Am I right?"

Dean looked a little stunned and only nodded slowly.

"Good. No one blames you, Dean. You are human, after all. So don't blame yourself."

"Alright. Who else is here?"

"Just me, Brock, Amark, and Amanda." As she as she finished listing, the aforementioned people meandered over.

Amark looked at the woman he knew his niece liked very, very much. She looked like shit. All mussed up, and pale and shaky looking. Amark wouldn't kid himself. He'd been in the news business long enough to meet and get to know all different kinds of people. When he had worked as a reporter it surprised him to discover he had a knack for sorting out the facts of military stories.

His editor had, of course, taken advantage of that and Amark soon found himself dealing with lots of different soldiers and sailors. Out of them, Dean was one of the most formidable people he had ever met, not only in stature, but in the power and confidence that rolled off the woman in waves. In a world that was historically dominated by males until only recently, Amark was glad to see a woman who obviously commanded great respect and admiration in the profession.

It had impressed him to a degree, and he didn't consider himself easily impresses. So he found himself liking this woman who he had only met once before now. What he had seen during that one meeting had only served to solidify his high opinion of the woman.

Dean, quite simply put, made Ranelle glow with happiness, something he had longed to see return to the woman he considered a second daughter. And if this tall, stoic, and sometimes dour Naval Commander brought that out in his Ranelle then who was he to stand in the way?

But.

There's always a but, huh Amark? His mind mocked him. But he wouldn't kid himself. Dean was not, despite outward appearances, the most stable person in the world. And Amark thought that maybe Dean was aware of that herself. It made him feel slightly better, in a strange kind of way.

Amark stopped his minds rambling as he halted in front of the tall woman who was once again holding the wall up. "Dean."

The dark head cocked for a moment, the keen mind trying to place a voice heard only once before, and that seemed like so long ago. "Amark." And she inclined her head slightly in greeting.

"How are you doing?"

"I thought you'd be more concerned for Ranelle than me." There was no hint of anything in her voice except gentle questioning.

"Well, I got a rundown on Ranelle from the doctor, no one could tell me much about how you were. Besides, a nurse is in there now, poking and prodding. I don't think she'd want any disruptions."

The officer nodded slowly and remained silent for a moment. "I'm as good as can be expected, I guess." The dark head thudded back against the wall as Dean sighed and closed her eyes. "Hopefully, this is temporary."

"And if it isn't?"

The skin around Dean's eyes crinkled up in thought for long minutes. "If it isn't.... then I guess I find a way to live with it."

"You'd have to, um.. retire." Amark continued, knowing this really was none of his business but also not being able to stop himself from asking.

"I know."

They both fell silent, their minds working over different things. Something else occurred to Dean as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. "Anyone call Scott?"

"I did." Rachel kneeled down in front of her sister. "Just got back, actually. He's on his way."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Rachel sat down next to Dean and looked at the group of people that had accumulated outside Ranelle's door. Thankfully, this was a lightly traveled hallway and they weren't in anyone's way.

Anthony strolled around the corner and stopped as he took in the hall. He sighed and continued forward. "I should have brought more coffee," he griped quietly, causing tired chuckles to float into the air.

*****************

The door closed behind the last person as the kindly looking nurse, a squat black woman, approached the bed. "Hello there."

"Hello," Ranelle answered back, a little miffed at having her conversation with Dean interrupted but glad that she would be able to ask this woman about her condition.

"Well, you sure have a lot of visitors."

"I know. I can't believe you guys actually let them stay in here all night."

"That wasn't the plan, dear, it just kind of happened. They all came in to see you and then they fell asleep. Nobody had the heart to wake them. Especially that real tall one. She was a real sight last night."

"Really?" Ranelle perked up with interest, wanting to hear more of Dean and what had transpired last night.

"Oh yes, indeed. She was all shaken up and the only thing she could think of was you. The doctor had a real time of it, trying to get her to stay still long enough to be examined. When he finished she was out of there faster than you could believe. Not being able to see didn't seem to slow her much, but I could tell it was bothering her."

"You could?"

"Oh yes. I've been a nurse for longer than I can remember. I've learned how to read people like you wouldn't believe." The nurse finished whatever it was she was doing and stepped back. "Now, young lady, how do you feel?"

"Not that bad, considering. Sleepy, and my minds kind of off."

"Yes, that's the drugs. Now don't you fight it. If you have to sleep you go right ahead, it'll help you heal. If all goes well I suspect you'll be out of here in about a week. So you take it easy, no gymnastics!"

Ranelle smiled slightly, as her eyelids drooped. "I never did like gymnastics." She murmured as she dropped into a healing sleep.

The nurse smiled and backed out of the room, greeting the hoard of concerned family and friends with warm smile and all the answers.

****************

Days passed, it seemed slow at first, but as Ranelle got better time seemed to speed up. As she regained her strength and was able to stay awake for longer periods of time, it became obvious to the blonde that Dean was being elusive.

Oh, she was incredibly attentive and caring, but Ranelle noticed that whenever she tried to steer the conversation back toward Dean's own blindness, which hadn't gotten any better, or her feelings about the entire event, that the officer found reason to retreat.

Ranelle was never alone, and it seemed to her that despite being skittish, Dean hardly ever left the hospital either. Which meant Rachel was there a lot as well. Ranelle enjoyed the time spent with Dean's sister, getting to know the woman who stubbornly lurked around the hospital, claiming that someone needed to look after Dean.

And Rachel was, of course, correct. Dean needed looking after. She also needed to talk to someone about what had happened. Ranelle had forced the story out of a reluctant Anthony and had then become even more determined to talk to the officer.

But something always seemed to get in the way. First it had been doctors and nurses and then the police. That had been a productive meeting, the police hadn't known a thing and had come looking to them for some of the holes to be filled in. Between questioning Ranelle, Dean, Anthony and Carmen they had learned everything that had happened. Right from the start. From the attack in the parking lot, to the trip to San Diego and their suspicions, to the fire in Portland and back here to Dallas. Their meeting with Cooper and their renewed suspicions.

So now the police knew everything they did and they couldn't do anything more than what Dean and Ranelle had been doing. Wait. Except they had a dead body as evidence, which they were so far unable to identify.

Ranelle couldn't figure out why none of them had been asked if they knew the attacker. That seemed like a logical course of action to her. But she wasn't about to tell the police how to do their jobs.

The blonde shifted in her bed. She was waiting for Dean. Everyday, just like clockwork, the officer had come into her room to visit at precisely 2 o'clock. Ranelle had decided to force the talk. Rachel was posted outside the door and had explicit instructions not to let them be disturbed.

So Ranelle waited and, just like clockwork at precisely 2 o'clock, the door opened and Dean carefully slunk in and sat in the chair beside the bed. "Hi."

"Hey." Ranelle spent a moment looking at her friend, knowing by the shift of her strong body that Dean was aware of the scrutiny. The officer seemed to have adjusted rather well to being sightless. She moved with careful, measured motions, born out of stumbling over too many things and almost falling flat on her face. Every so often she would stop to listen, processing the sounds around her and deciding on her next course of action. "You all right?"

Dean sighed, "You know, everyone keeps asking me that. I'm fine, I'm not the one who was shot, Ranelle."

"I know that, Dean. But you are the one who has gone through a lot of crap in your life, you are the one who was hurt seriously enough that it may have a dramatic effect on our life, you are the one who is blaming yourself for this, and you are the one who had to witness the woman you love almost die! Don't you dare sit there and tell me that none of this is affecting you, I know better. The fact that you have been avoiding me is proof of that." Ranelle leaned forward as she started to make her point. Dean shifted uncomfortably. "Anthony told me what happened with you, that you were so far gone it was like you weren't even in your own skin. And don't you even think of denying that, or the fact that you need help. You want to sweep this all under the rug, pretend it never happened, just like last time. But you can't, Dean. The dam has broken and you have to start dealing with this before it rips you and everyone around you apart. You don't have to do it alone, I'm here, I love you and I want to help you. So do Rachel and Scott, you aren't alone this time. Please, let us help you."

The officer got up swiftly, knocking the chair over backwards. She started pacing around the room, erratically. Ranelle watched, concerned that Dean's inattention would cause her to walk into something. The blonde woman saw that Dean had started muttering quietly. "Hey!" Dean stopped in her tracks and cocked her head, listening. "Talk to me Dean."

Dean continued pacing, wringing her hands, putting them into her pockets, taking them out. And she started talking, very slowly and very quietly. "When I got to you... there wasn't anything I could do." The dark head shook. "Just like before... you were going to die and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. Useless." She stopped pacing and turned toward the bed, her eyes staring blankly over Ranelle's head. "It terrified me. I could feel my heart breaking..."

Dean trailed off and Ranelle watched as the strong body collapsed into itself and fell to the floor. Ranelle leaned forward and carefully, using her good right arm, threw the blankets off. She gingerly put her feet on the floor and teetered over to where Dean was curled up. The blonde put a hand on Dean's back and lowered herself to the floor. She got right down there with the officer, putting her face up against Dean's. "Sweetheart, it's alright. I'm okay and you did everything you could. No one blames you except yourself. Shhh..."

They stayed on the floor like that for a long time, Dean eventually gathered herself together and returned the hug that Ranelle was bestowing on her. Eventually, Dean stood with Ranelle in her arms and carried the blonde back to bed.

Just as Dean was about to lower her friend, a gentle hand on her face stopped her. "Wait."

"Hm?"

And Ranelle raised her head up and they met in a kiss. She pulled back and sighed. "Okay, you can put me down. I missed that."

"Yeah. I wish I could see you." They quieted, and Dean appeared to be thinking. "I think... I think I.."

"Yeah?"

"Should go see a ps... psychiatrist... or, something."

"That might be a good idea."

The dark head nodded a few times. "I'm sorry Ranelle."

"For?"

"For being a jackass."

"You were not being a jackass.. it's completely understandable. I just wish you felt like you could talk to me."

"I... I do. I mean, I'm not uncomfortable talking to you, I'm just not used to it and kinda try..."

"To avoid it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, we'll just have to get you used to it then, huh?"

"I suppose."

******************

"So, are you happy to be out?"

"God yes." Ranelle said as she carefully climbed into the Nissan. She'd never had a sling before and found that she didn't like the decreased mobility. Dean climbed carefully into the back-seat with the blonde as Anthony started up the engine.

The drive home was relatively silent, the threesome wrapped up in their own thoughts. They walked into the house where Carmen was waiting with coffee and something that smelled really good to Dean. Just as they all fell on the couch the phone rang.

"Awww... go away, we just got home." Dean groaned.

Carmen looked at the three young people across from her and decided to answer the phone. They didn't look inclined to move.

"Hello?"

"Is Dean there?"

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Jack."

"Just a second." Carmen walked into the living room and placed the phone in Dean's limp hand.

"Who is it?"

"Jack."

"What?" Dean sat up and pulled the phone up to her ear. "Jack? Is everything alright?"

"No."

"What? What happened? Are you and Shelley okay?"

"I'm fine, but Shelley isn't."

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"She's in the hospital, real bad shape." His voice broke and it sounded to Dean like he was crying. "She said to tell you that they found out what she was doing, didn't make much sense to me."

"Well is she going to be alright?"

"It doesn't look good."

"I'm coming down."

"Alright, if you want. Bye Dean."

Dean hung up the phone dully. She couldn't believe it. After everything that had happened, after all the shit they had gone through, Shelley had been found out. Dean had almost forgotten that her friend was involved. And they had gotten to her. Jack sounded horrible. She couldn't blame him, though. They were supposed to get married soon.

"Dean?" Ranelle sat down beside the officer. "What's happened?"

"Shelley's in the hospital."

"Oh God... you're going down, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm coming with you."

Dean just nodded and then stood. She walked carefully out of the room, trailing her hand along the wall.

They watched her go, their hearts aching. "This sucks!" Anthony fumed. "What the hell is going on!? How much can one person stand! Whoever's responsible for this better give her a break real soon or I swear I'll.... I'll do something!"

Anthony fell back into his chair, his anger short-lived. Carmen sighed and rubbed her eyes. "I suspect you'll be leaving as soon as possible."

"Probably."

"Uh.. Ranelle. This probably isn't a good time to bring it up, but you should know before you leave."

"Yeah?"

"The cops called the other day. They identified the body. It's our terrorist friend, the guy from Dean's memory and the airport."

Ranelle sighed. "Okay... well, at least we don't have to worry about him anymore." The blonde woman stood and made her way slowly down the hall to Dean's room. She knocked gently and opened the door.

The officer was sprawled out on her side on the bed. She looked like she just lost her best friend. And Ranelle decided that that was maybe halfway true. Dean and Shelley were great friends, and from what she heard of Dean's side of the conversation, Shelley wasn't in the best shape.

Ranelle walked over and climbed up onto the high bed. She snuggled up against Dean's back and put her arm around the officer's waist. She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand and smiled, just a little.

Whatever happened, they'd get through it.

Together.

Part 8

The sun sat at such an angle as to invade the large, silent house. In through the large front windows, inching its way across the hardwood floors. Slowly, it creeped through the partially open door, reaching vainly for the king sized bed in the middle of the room. It came up short and sat disappointed, but not for long as the blonde woman in the bed rolled onto her back and groaned.

Ranelle cracked open one green eye to take in the semi-light status of the room. Dean's room. She looked to her right to see the officer curled up on her side, facing away from Ranelle. The blonde stared up at the ceiling, just letting her thoughts wander.

Her shoulder felt pretty damn good, and she was pleased that her stay in the hospital had been relatively short. She would need some physical therapy, but that was a small price to pay considering what could have happened.

She was glad that the psycho who had been here to kill Dean and Anthony, to silence them for supposedly knowing things they shouldn't, was dead. It was a strange feeling. Ranelle had always considered herself as someone who greatly valued all human life. Maybe, maybe that philosophy went out the window when it was the lives of people she loved.

Yeah.

She could live with that. Dean, she was quickly realizing, meant the world to her. But still, it bothered her to know that there were people out there who still had reason to want them dead. What would happen when she printed her story? Would the terrorists retaliate? Or would they just accept that the damage had been done and leave it at that? She hoped so.

Even more than that, Ranelle hoped that the police would be able to do something, anything about these terrorists. There was no way they could claim that there was no threat. One man had died and she and Dean were injured. Surely, they would have to try and do something now. Even if all they did was hand the case over to someone who could.

That was one of the things that had terrified her the most about this entire situations. They were, in essence, alone. They had no proof, no one to turn to for help except themselves, and vigilantes were not looked kindly upon. And if still scared her, these people had the motive and obviously the means to carry out this objective of theirs.

The hole in her shoulder attested to that, as did Shelley's condition in the hospital.

All they could do was stand beside each other hope for the best.

"You have a good sleep?"

The voice startled Ranelle enough to make her jump. "Jeez... I thought you were asleep. Yeah, I slept real good. You?"

"Uh-huh. I always do when I'm with you."

"Guess we better keep that up then, huh?"

"Guess so."

"Dean?" Ranelle asked, after a long pause.

"Hm?"

"What're you doing?"

"Staring at the wall, trying to decide if I'm actually seeing the outline of my dresser or if it's my imagination."

"What?" Ranelle sat up and scrambled to lean over Dean. She looked down at the tan face below her. "What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Are you seeing something?"

"I think so."

"Hey, that's great!!! I'd give you a hug, but..."

Ranelle trailed off as the officer sat up slowly and opened her arms. The blonde carefully fit herself in the warm haven and sighed blissfully as the long limbs wrapped around her gently.

"I can't believe we slept through most of yesterday and all night." Dean muttered disgustedly into the fragrant hair under her chin.

"I guess we needed it."

The officer just grunted and continued to snuggle. The pair flopped back down onto the large bed, their limbs tangled comfortably. Dean let out a sigh.

"What'cha thinking about, Navy Guy?"

Dean grinned at the sound of Stacey's nickname for her coming out of Ranelle's lips. "Nothing much... I got my ass kicked, again."

Ranelle raised herself up and looked at Dean's face, frustrated that the officer was unable to look back at her. "Didn't we talk about this already?"

"Yeah.. but it seems, I dunno, bigger than just being rusty. Every time I turn around, BAM, I get knocked down."

The blonde shifted and laid her head down on Dean's shoulder. She pulled out the knowledge she had gleaned from a few psych classes, taken purely for interest, and thought. "Well... how do you normally fell when you fight? Do you like it?"

"Yeah.. it's fun for me."

"Is it still?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Beats me, Ranelle. If I knew what the problem was I could fix it."

"Now don't get snappy. So how do you feel? Nervous, scared, unsure, apprehensive? All of the above? None of the above?"

"Uh..." Ranelle could actually hear Dean thinking, the gears in her mind turning over a problem that, had it been anyone else's, would have been easily solved by the officer's keen mind. "A little unsure I guess. Maybe a little nervous."

"Okay.. so you're unsure of yourself and your capabilities. Why?"

The room fell silent, two minds working over a dilemma. The shaft of sun continued to strain and finally, it's golden tendrils reached the foot of the bed. The light chortled with glee.

"Oh!" Ranelle turned and sat up slightly. "Okay... just listen to me, alright?"

"Mmkk."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Ranelle gently turned the officer's head so that the blue eyes at least appeared to be focused on her. "Even if you can't see me, I like to see you, 'kay?"

A tiny smirk appeared. "'Kay."

"Alright. Your self-confidence in yourself and your ability to protect other people has been shattered. Why? Well, your team, people you were responsible for leading, for protecting, was decimated. Don't tell me that you don't blame yourself for that, that you don't have any guilt. Don't even try. So you have this guilt and you're beating yourself up inside, wishing you could have done better or something different. And while all that's going on you've got yourself convinced that you aren't good enough to protect people, that you've lost that ability."

Ranelle paused, looking for some sign that Dean was following her, seeing what she was. "Anddd?"

"Well isn't it possible, Dean, isn't it possible that you have yourself so convinced that you aren't any good that those are the results you're getting? Our mind is, arguably, the strongest tool humans have. So don't you think it's possible that you are expecting.... no, more than that, that you believe you'll fail in a fight and you are? If people can do things through sheer will, then don't you think it's possible to not do things through will."

"I... I guess so. But why would I not want to be able to fight? I do want to."

"Well, maybe what's holding you back is more of an unconscious response to something traumatic."

Dean laid still, scowling up at the ceiling while she thought about it. It was, she supposed, quite possible that Ranelle's amateur diagnostic was very accurate if not dead on. It made sense and she had never really given the issue much thought, she just knew that her prowess as a fighter was not what it used to be. She had just accepted that, not delving into the depths of her mind to try and figure out why. The answer to that dreaded question was not as bad as she had feared. Dean decided she could live with it.

"Alright, Dr. Maloch, how do you suggest I go about fixing this little problem?"

"Well, now you have to remember that I'm just guessing here, but I figure all you have to do is believe you can do anything."

"But I don't."

"I know that. But try and pretend that you believe you can do anything. I don't care if you have to act like the Little Train that Could, just try and believe it. Cause if you do, if you manage to convince your mind, everything else," Ranelle patted Dean's torso, "will follow."

Dean grunted. "So... you're into psychology and stuff?"

"And stuff, yeah. Not enough to have wanted a job in it, though."

"And why might that be?"

"I didn't think I'd be very good at it, sitting around analyzing other people's problems." Ranelle looked up to see Dean raising an expressive eyebrow at the ceiling. "You don't count."

"Why not?"

"I meant strangers. I don't think I could do that with strangers. But people I love, no problem." Ranelle patted Dean again and happily put her head back down.

"Ah, good, you're both awake."

"Carmen?"

"Yes. You two should really get moving you know, you have a plane to catch in," she looked down at her watch, "four hours."

"Huh?"

Ranelle laughed at Dean's reply. "Carmen got us tickets to San Diego."

"Really?"

"Yep," the Italian answered, smiling.

"You're the best Carmen!"

"I know. Now, get a move on, both of you."

With that, she turned and left the youngens to their own devices.

Ranelle rolled out of the bed and groaned slightly. She must not have moved all night, her legs and arms were horrible stiff. Dean heard the groan and cocked her head, concerned. "You alright?"

"Yeah.. just sore." The blonde looked over to see her tall friend shaking her legs out while leaning against the wall. "Guess it's a mutual feeling, huh?"

"Yep." Dean grimaced, straightened, and moved to the bathroom. "Could you get me a bag and..."

"No problem. How long do you think we'll be there?"

"Oh, three days maybe."

"Alright." Ranelle moved to the closet and opened it, grabbing the black duffle that Dean kept there. She just grabbed the pants and shirts, folding them neatly in the bag. It was the easiest packing job she had ever done, it's not like Dean had a lot of choice.

"Ow! Damn it!"

Ranelle turned sharply and put the bag down. "You alright, love?" She stopped and pulled back her head a little. The term of endearment had just slipped out, and Ranelle decided she liked saying it. She poked her head into the bathroom to see Dean standing on one leg rubbing her other foot.

"I'm fine, I just stubbed me toe on the wall."

"Mmkk." The blonde turned and picked up the duffle again. She could hear Dean rummaging around in the drawers and cupboards, so she was surprised when the officer's voice floated into the room.

"Hey Ranelle?"

"Yeah?" She turned to see Dean leaning against the wall with a tube in front of her face. The said tube was held out a moment later for her inspection.

"Is this toothpaste?"

"Yes."

The dark head nodded seriously before disappearing with a muttered 'Good'.

Ranelle just grinned and placed the packed bag on the large bed. She walked out into the hall and through the swinging door into the kitchen. "Ah, Ranelle. Listen, why don't you give me your keys, tell me where everything is and let me go pack you a bag?"

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that Carmen."

"Nonsense, I'd be happy to. And if I weren't, I wouldn't have offered. Besides, if I take care of you, you can take care of our Dean."

The blonde woman smiled and hugged Carmen, taking a moment to just relax and revel in the knowledge that both she and Dean had friends who would do almost anything for them. "Thanks, Carmen. It gives me some time to make some calls."

"Of course dear."

Ranelle quickly passed on her keys and told Carmen what she needed, and before she knew it the Italian woman was off. She sat down at the table with the cordless, trying to decide who she should call first. She finally settled on Stacey.

The phone rang three times before the perky sound of her friend's voice met Ranelle's ears. "Hey Stace."

"Ranelle! I didn't expect to hear from you so soon. How are you, girl?"

"I'd pretty good Stacey, thanks. Listen, I need you to keep looking after my apartment and Terkers for a few more days."

"What?! You're leaving? Ranelle, you just got out of the hospital!"

"I know, Stacey, believe me I know. But a good friend of Dean's is in the hospital, and not in very good shape. She's going and I'm not letting her face that alone what with everything that's happened. She needs me, Stacey."

Stacey sighed. She knew Ranelle was right. Dean, despite her big, bad soldier persona, was fairly dependent on the people she let close to her. And Ranelle was one of those people who Dean was probably the most dependent on. The blonde woman had walked into the officer's life during a particularly vulnerable time and proceeded to fall in love with her, making her pivotal in Dean's continued survival.

The curly haired woman remembered vividly the state Dean had been in at the hospital. She also saw the slight changes in Dean which occurred from the time she had first met the officer to now. It was obvious that Ranelle was the reason for those changes, and Stacey strongly believed her blonde friend was also the only thing keeping Dean on an even keel

"Of course she needs you, girl. And you know you can count on me. All you have to do is ask."

Ranelle smiled and sighed in relief. "Thanks, you're the best, Stacey."

"Mmm..." she didn't sound convinced with that sentiment, "how's Dean doing?"

"Better. She woke up this morning and thinks she's seeing outlines, so we're both looking on the bright side."

"Hey, that's great!! She doesn't need something like that in her life, she's been through enough crap."

"Yeah... I think she's trying to not get her hopes up too high, but I can see that she's being positive."

"Did she ever see that eye specialist?"

"Yeah." Since Dean had been hanging around the hospital anyway, a doctor had finally gotten the officer to sit still long enough for a more in-depth examine and scheduled an appointment with an eye specialist. The officer had gone, grudgingly, only in the hopes that someone would be able to tell her what was going on.

"Ranelle?"

"Oh, sorry Stace. I just drifted off there."

"So I noticed."

"Anyway, Dean went. The doctor said it looked like there was some damage to her retina. You know, kinda like what happens if you look at the sun for too long. She said that it also could be combined with Dean getting hit on the head. Also, psychological things could factor in. Basically, there wasn't much that could be done to treat it and a combination of things could be responsible."

"Doesn't sound very comforting."

"No, it doesn't. Fact is, only Dean and our crazy terrorist know exactly what happened in that house. And Dean doesn't seem too inclined to share. But she's staring to see again and in the end, that's all that matters to me."

"Hm.. well, I have to get to work, Ranelle. Don't worry about your apartment, or that fuzz ball of yours. I'll look after it. And you take care of Navy Guy, 'kay?"

Ranelle smiled into the phone, touched by Stacey's concern for someone she called friend but still hardly knew. "I will, and thanks. Bye."

"Buh-bye."

They hung up, and Ranelle swiftly made two more calls, one to her uncle and one to Scott. She didn't think Dean would remember to call him, and he had as much right as anyone to know what was going on. He was Dean's childhood friend, after all.

As expected, Ranelle got similar reactions from everyone about her leaving so soon after getting out of the hospital. But when they heard why, there was a slight, reflective pause, and then acceptance. She was incredibly pleased with the understanding that both her friends and family showed her. It reassured Ranelle that everyone truly supported her in her relationship with the officer.

Eventually, the blonde hung up for good and slowly made her way back to Dean's bedroom.

*****************

Dean finished brushing her teeth and felt around for the lid, located it and screwed it back on. Next was the shower. She felt her way over and turned on the water, making sure of the temperature before jumping in. The officer shed her clothes, making sure she knew precisely where they were so she wouldn't have to spend long minutes trying to relocate them.

The tall body moved into the large shower stall, tan hands looking for and locating shampoo. She cautiously smelt the contents of the container before using it. She had learned, very early on after losing her sight to smell everything. If she didn't there were very bad results. Some things just weren't meant to be used as toothpaste.

Being blind was an odd experience. At first, it had terrified her beyond words. The concept of not seeing, not being able to read words on paper, or use a computer, or work. That was the one that had really gotten her.

Retirement.

When she quit, Dean wanted it to be strictly her choice and only her choice. She didn't want to have anything else making her do it. And that's exactly what being blind meant. She'd have to quit, and she wouldn't have a say in the matter.

But then, very slowly, Dean started to resign herself to the possibility of being blind for the rest of her life. And how that would change things. Not just the way she lived, that she would have found a way to work around. What had bothered her, was not seeing Ranelle's face again. Or Scott's, Anthony's, Carmen's, Maria's... her niece and nephew, not being able to see them grow into the fine young adults she knew they'd become.

It wasn't the things she wouldn't be able to do, or the new things she'd have to learn or even the new limitations that would be put on her.

It was the people.

Missing out on so much of their lives because she was blind. Sure, she'd be there through the years, and hear her niece and nephew talk of their lives and boyfriends/girlfriends, and eventually their spouses and children. But she wouldn't see them. She the changes they would go through, or see their significant others, or their children.

And that, that just plain rubbed her the wrong way.

But then this morning, she had woken to a slight difference. Nothing much, so minute she had thought that she had been imagining it. But she hadn't been. She was starting to see again, and so she suddenly had hope. Hope of regaining her normal life, and seeing Ranelle again.

And now, now Dean was sure that when this all was finally over and she once again could see, that she would be a little stronger, and a little more appreciative of things in life.

The officer pursed her lips, feeling the water run down her face and neck. And really, that's all that mattered, right? Coming up against roadblocks in life and getting past them. Surviving and coming out of it all a little stronger and a little wiser. Moving on.

Yes, Dean decided, as she shut off the water and stepped out, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around herself. That's what was important, and that's what she would do. Survive and move on, no worse for wear.

She dried off and wrapped the towel around her again, grabbed her clothes and walked into her room. Dean spent a moment finding clean clothes in her closet and putting them on. She had just slipped on a shirt when her hand brushed across one of her uniform bags.

The officer grabbed it off the hook and walked over to the bed where she sat with the bag across her lap, gently running her fingers along the edge.

**************

Ranelle walked to Dean's room and poked her head around the door frame. She paused upon seeing the slumped form on the bed with the suit bag across her lap. The blonde could practically feel the waves of quiet misery and tension rising off Dean's body and traveling across the room.

"Hon?" She moved into the room, sure that the officer had heard her. Reaching the bed, Ranelle gently lowered herself down and leaned against Dean's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

The strong body shifted and wiggled a bit, signaling that Dean really, really wanted to be moving around. Pacing. "I just... I was getting dressed and I came across this and it hit me... what was really happening. That I could be going to a funeral in a few days." The dark head shook and Dean sighed, "I really don't want to have to put this on." She hefted the bag and then stilled.

Ranelle sucked in a breath, not sure what to say. "Do you really, truly think that's going to happen?"

A nod.

"Why?"

"You didn't hear Jack on the phone. He knows, he knows she's going to die."

"Oh, Dean." And really, that's all she could say. So Ranelle just got her good arm around the officer as best she could, once again comforting the most important person in her life.

****************

The flight had been as good as one would expect, and now Ranelle was once again traveling through the streets of San Diego. They were on their way directly to the hospital. As soon as they had arrived Dean had called Jack. Shelley had worsened, they needed to hurry.

The blonde woman was dreading it. Getting there, and losing someone she had only started to know. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair at all. She glanced to her right, where Dean was slumped against the door of the cab. The officer was being far too quiet for Ranelle's taste.

They pulled up at the hospital a short time later and climbed out with their bags. Ranelle fished out some money to pay the cabbie and sent him on his way. She wished they could have stopped at a hotel or something first. But Jack had said hurry, and so they were.

Ranelle gently grasped Dean's arm, leading the woman through unfamiliar territory. It was something the officer normally wouldn't have accepted, but it was at the moment a necessity. After a brief trek through the halls, Ranelle arrived outside the designated room.

Just as they stopped in the hall the door opened and a large, muscular man came out. Ranelle knew, before he spoke, that this was Jack. "Dean?"

The officer smiled and tilted her head. "Hey, Jack-O."

He came forward and hugged Dean, and she returned it with vigor. The he stepped back and looked up at his friend who only topped him by a head or so, and frowned. "What's up with that?"

"I have a little vision problem at the moment. It's not important. How's Shelley?"

"Not so great. Come on, I know she'd want you to be with her." Jack looked to Ranelle and smiled. "Hello."

"Oh! Um, Jack this is Ranelle, my... um..." Dean trailed off, not sure what Ranelle was.

The blonde rose to the occasion and stepped forward. "Dean's partner." As she shook hands with Jack, Ranelle looked out of the corner of her eye at Dean. The officer had a little smile on her face and nodded. She seemed to like that title.

The trio moved into the room, Ranelle hung back, feeling a little out of place. Jack and Dean moved to the bed and the blonde could see that Dean was saying something to the unconscious form on the bed. After a few minutes they sat in chairs, and Dean beckoned Ranelle over. She came and settled next to Dean, sending a quick prayer up for Shelley's recovery. But she knew it was futile. Knew that Shelley was on the verge of leaving this world, knew that Dean was right and Jack knew that his fiancee was leaving him. Knew the doctors knew.

It sucked royally.

*****************

Less than two hours later Shelley quietly departed this world, leaving behind parents, three siblings, numerous friends, and a heartbroken Jack.

They left the hospital is a somber mood, not quite ready to believe that Shelley was gone. After a short drive, they arrived at Jack's small house, tired, sad, and pissed.

"Funeral's day after tomorrow."

Dean turned in the hallway, her hand on the wall, "That soon?"

He nodded. "We did all our funeral arrangements already. Didn't want the hassle." He slunk down the hall and sat on the couch, sighing.

"Jack, why don't we go get a hotel room?"

"No, it's fine. You guys can stay here. Truth is, I don't feel like being alone right now."

"Okay." The officer carefully made her way over to an easy chair and plopped down into it. Ranelle followed suit.

In all that strained silence they sat, not saying a word, just thinking of their now-absent friend.

It was going to be a long trip.

*******************

Dean sat on the bed, staring at the other wall. She could see a little better today, the outlines were more pronounced and there were little gray areas where light was. She had figured this out by locating a gray area and walking to it. The first time the officer found herself in a pool of warm sunlight.

It wasn't much but it was progress, and that was good.

Someone knocked.

"Come."

She heard the door creak open and the rustle of fabric as someone entered. Dean knew it was Ranelle, Jack's footsteps were a lot heavier, and besides, he didn't smell that good.

"Shouldn't you be getting dressed?"

"Uh-huh." Dean turned her head and gave the impression of sending a baleful glare toward her uniform.

"Do you, um... need some help?"

"Nah," the officer stood and walked over to the uniform, "I'll manage. Thanks, though, for asking."

Ranelle smiled, adjusted her sling, and left the room. Dean was managing, although she got the distinct impression that the officer really didn't want this funeral to be happening today. Ah well, that's life. Things often happened that you had no control over, that you'd rather erase from all time and do-over. But there weren't any do-over's in life, and sometimes, sometimes that really sucked.

This was one of those times.

Ranelle waited downstairs with Jack, who was decked out in dress whites and looked pretty darn good, considering the circumstances. Several minutes later Dean slowly came down the stairs and stopped in front of the duo. She couldn't hear a thing, and that worried her.

"What? Is something crooked.... or what?"

The blonde woman came forward and touched Dean's arm. "No, nothing's crooked. You look... incredible.

"Uh-huh.. I'd forgotten how good you looked in that stuff." Jack added his own two cents and soon they were off, a striking yet somber group.

The California sky was overcast with clouds, throwing the day into an ugly grayness that served to bring everyone's spirits lower and lower. The service was nice, a typical Naval funeral, with many people besides family present to show their respects to a friend. To someone who had died before their time. To someone that would be greatly missed.

When the last words faded into the air Dean turned slightly to the bereft man beside her. "I'm sorry Jack."

"It wasn't your fault Dean. Shelley had the choice to say no, she wanted to help you. And you didn't ask her to go digging around like she was."

"What do you mean?"

He turned to face his sightless friend and out a hand on her arm. "I would have told you this before but there was never a good time. Shelley was sticking her nose into other places too. She was looking for proof of the mole in the Navy. That's what got her killed, cause she found it."

Dean's body jerked at the prospect of this being over. "She found out who the mole is?"

Jack nodded and then realized his friend couldn't see him. "Yes. She thought so. She sent it off to the Pentagon."

Dean blinked and felt Ranelle's hand on her other arm, offering gentle support. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"So this is all over?"

"Possibly."

Dean sat down on the chair behind her and sighed. That would be a great relief, if Shelley had found proof that would stop this entire thing. It had been weighing on her mind for a long time, how this entire thing would come to an end. But at the cost of her friend's life? The officer shook her head and placed it in her raised hands.

Jack watched on, concerned. He looked up at Ranelle and got a similar look back. A shudder made its way through Dean's body. The blonde leaned down and looked at Dean's face. "Are you alright?"

"It might be over. After all this and it might finally be over," she whispered with relief. After a time, Dean straightened herself up, gathered her wits, and stood. Her emotions were back under control, her professional Naval Commander facade was back in place.

They started to make their way out of the cemetery with a steadily moving trickle of other people. "When are you guys going back to Dallas?"

"Tomorrow."

Jack nodded and kept on walking.

"Commander Ransom?" Dean stopped upon hearing her name. She felt Ranelle gently pulling her over to where the sound had come from. When she stopped she was standing in front of two men, who as far as she could tell, were very large indeed.

"Yes?"

"My name is Admiral Rogers and I've come from the Pentagon where we received some very interesting material from one Shelley Wright. She said I might talk to you for a little more information on what's been happening for the last four weeks."

"Are you going to be taking action?"

"I assure you, Commander, that there was enough evidence to have this mole arrested immediately. He is in custody and we are trying to see if the corruption went any further. We are also taking action to find any other members of this terrorist group here in the United States and a campaign has been proposed to try and break up their group. They are a huge threat to this country's security. Your input is only needed to uncover new information and maybe find some more charges to attach to this mole and any accomplices."

"Of course Admiral, I'd be happy to help you out. I must ask first though," Dean turned and called to Jack, "that you show this man some identification. I can't verify it at the moment."

Jack came over, curious. He looked at the ID and told Dean that yes, these was the real deal. She nodded, satisfied. "I think we should go to a coffee shop or something, don't you? This is going to take awhile."

So they went, and it did indeed take a long time to go over everything and relate all their suspicions and information. They got some odd looks from the other patrons, two men in suits, one woman decked out in Naval dress whites, and a second in a subdued black pantsuit. But they ignored it and focused on the task at hand.

"Well, thank-you Commander. You have been most helpful." The men stood and Dean followed.

"You're welcome, Admiral Rogers. If I could ask, before you go. Who is the mole?"

"I suppose you have a right to know, since he almost got you killed several times. One Admiral Tyler Clarkson."

Dean shook her head. "Never heard of him."

"Yes, well, that's usually the way these kinds of things work. The people who end up getting hurt have no affiliation with the person doing the hurting. Again, thank-you for your time Commander Ransom." He turned to Ranelle and tipped his hat a little, before both he and his partner left the diner.

Ranelle stared after them for a long time and then commented, "It's over."

"No," Dean sighed, "something tells me it isn't. Not yet."

Part 9

The pair stumbled through the door of Dean's house late the next night. The flight home had been a disaster. First it had been delayed, then it had had to land because of weather which had cost them almost five hours. Fianlly, they made it safely back to Dallas, totally wiped.

Both Anthony and Carmen met them at the door, taking bags and coats, asking a few questions here and there. Eventually, the entire trip was related, including the visit by Admiral Rogers. There was a collective sigh of relief at the knowledge that they no longer had to worry about terrorists since the government was taking action.

Everyone made it to bed not long after, Dean and Ranelle snuggled together in the large kind sized bed.

Thankfully, the next morning was bright with not a cloud in sight. It should have raised everyone's spirits, but Ranelle noticed that Dean was very faraway. She finally cornered the officer in her bedroom around midmorning.

"What's wrong?" She asked quietly, sitting next to Dean on the bed.

"I... I need some time... apart... from you. To think."

Ranelle sat back and blinked a little hurt that Dean felt she needed to be alone to think. But she sucked it up and replied, "Yeah, sure. Of course. I'll just be on my way then."

But Dean heard the hurt in Ranelle's voice and stood as Ranelle was leaving. "Wait, Ranelle, you don't understand."

"Sure I do." And she kept on walking.

"Ranelle!" Dean walked forward, for a moment forgetting where she was and smacked right into the edge of the door frame. "Ow! Damnit!" The officer got around the stubborn obstacle and hurried after the woman who was on her way out the front door. She didn't get out without incident, though, walking into a table and the wall.

The blonde heard the officer stumbling about and swearing but she kept on walking.

"Ranelle!" Dean got out onto the deck and put her hands on the railing. "Wait! Please, just listen to me for a minute."

She stopped, turned, and Dean was relieved to see Ranelle's vague outline take a few steps toward the deck.

"I'm listening."

Dean came down off the deck and stood there, uncertain. "I didn't mean that to sound like I don't need you, I do. I love you, with all my heart. So much that the prospect of being without you even for today hurts." Dean rubbed her chest, over her heart to emphasize the point. "Please, don't doubt that I love you. Don't doubt that I very much want to spend the rest of my life with you. But lots has happened to the both of us in the last few weeks, and loving you, that alone terrifies me. This, living with someone, talking to them, and sharing everything with them, it's the most forei