I was sitting outside my parents' house about to turn the key in the ignition of my newest 'car'. It had four wheels and an engine but not a lot else, but it was all I could afford at the moment. We had just finished dinner and I was about to head home when my phone rang. Bobby.

I answered it with, "Yo."

He chuckled but there was a weary edge to it.

"What you don't think I can pull it off?"

"Not quite, Bomber." There was a pause and then, "Steph, I need your help."

"What's up?" I'd had very limited contact with Rangeman over the past few months. Ranger had been in the wind. On the rare occasions that I did ask them for back-up, Tank and Bobby hadn't been able to tell me anything.

"It's Ranger."

"Is he okay?" I tried to keep my voice steady but failed.

Bobby jumped in quickly. "He's fine. Or he would be if he'd just rest. He's been back for a week in a military hospital. Some weight loss and a gunshot wound to his upper chest. It missed his vitals. He's physically exhausted but he won't sleep. He just lies in his bed or tries to pace. I need him to lie down and stay still, he shouldn't be on his feet. He can barely stand. And you know how he is about drugs."

Ranger always avoided drugs. Stimulants, sedatives, depressants, even alcohol and coffee. There's no way he'd agree to sleeping tablets. I didn't know how he did it. I'd take whatever was being offered.

"He shouldn't even be in my care yet, but they felt that if he was home he might relax, so they discharged him early. Steph, can you come to Rangeman? Maybe if you talk to him… See him? He might calm down?"

"Sure, Bobby. Anything. I'm on my way."

I turned the key and headed for Rangeman. If Bobby was looking after Ranger, he'd be on 7 and not in his elusive Batcave. I fobbed my way into the garage, parked in a visitor spot trying to ignore the fact that my car cost the same as the tires on the vehicle next to it, and headed for the elevator.

I went straight up to 7 and into the apartment, dropping my stuff near the door. The interior was as refined and masculine as always. Most of the rooms were dark but there was a lamp on in the master bedroom.

I called his name out as I entered, not wanting to startle him.

"Babe?" he croaked.

He was sitting up in bed, with the sheet around his waist. Bobby had warned me but it was still a shock to see him. His skin had a greyish tinge to it, he'd lost 20 pounds and there was a bandage very close to his heart. He looked vulnerable and haunted but the Ranger I knew was invincible. He was Batman for crying out loud. What had happened to him?

I couldn't let him see the fear and the shock in my eyes. I walked past him into his dressing room. This wasn't a problem that words could fix, but I could guess what he needed. I changed into an old t-shirt of his and pair of his silk boxers. Without saying a word, I returned to his room, slipped into bed and turned off the lamp.

I felt his arm close around me and listened as his breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

Whatever had happened, I knew that he would get through it. And in the meantime, it was nice to feel needed.