Lookin' for Love

AN: This story has been co-written with sonomom, who brought a level of sophistication and humor to the writing. I was having motivational problems completing some of the scenes with Ranger, and sonomom was able to write those scenes in such a way that jarred me loose from my writing block. We hope you enjoy this joint effort.

Chapter One

Trusting that the narrow game trail was leading him in the right direction, he ran full out trying to put enough distance between him and the men intent on killing him. Thorny branches clawed and tore at his clothes and skin as he raced against time. The helo would only remain at the prearranged extraction point for a few short minutes.

This was the second attempt at an exfil; things hadn't gone quite as planned at the first extraction. And now the second try wasn't looking too good either. Not only was the thick undergrowth of the jungle impeding his progress, but the gunshot wound to his left leg was also slowing him down. Fortunately, he hadn't heard any additional gunfire the past few minutes. With luck, he'd given his pursuers the slip. He'd been running for days and he didn't think he had enough energy to run much farther.

A choppy sound was coming from somewhere overhead and to the right; it sounded like an unbalanced washing machine on spin cycle. He took a chance and veered off the trail, crashing though bushes and vines and vaulting over fallen trees. The only thing that kept him going was the whop whop sound overhead. It was getting louder and he knew rescue was imminent. Another minute of bushwhacking and he found himself in a small clearing.

As soon as he stepped into the open area, a rope descended from the helicopter hovering overhead. While he'd hoped for a clearing large enough for the helo to be able to land, many of his previous extractions had been by strings and any rescue was a good rescue. There was a time he'd considered dangling from a rope under a flying helo fun, but over time the transport method had lost its appeal. He spent the few seconds catching his breath while waiting for the rope to reach him so he could quickly step into the harness without fumbling the clips.

With the practiced ease of a long-time field soldier, he attached his carabiner to the D-ring on the rig, set the safety ring and signaled his readiness. The helicopter immediately lifted straight up, dangling the man below it. As soon as the "load" was clear of the treetops, the helo increased forward speed, but not before the enemy broke out into the clearing.

At the first shot from below, the man returned fire and prayed that the helicopter would get out of range quickly. Unfortunately, his luck hadn't changed. Bad luck had plagued his entire mission and it continued even as he was being rescued. A single round sliced through his leg calf just inches below his other wound. There was nothing he could do until the helicopter landed.

The secure insert zone was several miles away and the man relaxed as best he could, thinking back over the details of the mission and what he could have done differently. The reality was that sometimes shit just happens, like him getting shot.

He'd been shot before and he'd probably get shot again, but the novelty had long since worn off. He was carrying enough shrapnel in his body to set off a metal detector.

The helo hovered and then lowered until the man's feet touched ground. He quickly unclipped the harness and limped away from under the helo. When it landed he scrambled aboard, falling to his right side as soon as his feet cleared the door. While the crew secured the hatch, the medic kneeled down by the man they'd just extracted from the jungle and checked him over. The all clear had been given to the pilot, who lifted off without a backward glance. The nearest base was an hour away, so the rest of the crew settled in for the duration of the flight.

The medic had to quickly stop the bleeding from the gunshot wound in his calf, and then treat the day-old half-dollar-sized exit wound in the back of the man's thigh. Treatment was unbelievably painful. He shoved packet after packet of sterile gauze into the wound while the man clenched his fists and bit down so hard on his bottom lip, it started bleeding. The man didn't make a sound, though. Perversely, the medic was grateful for the man's stoicism.

After patching up the man's leg, the medic helped him move over and lean up against the side of the cabin. Then he began setting up an IV, but the man stopped him. "I don't need that."

"I'll be the judge of that, soldier. Lean back and rest; that's an order. You've lost a lot of blood, you're dehydrated and close to heat stroke. No one's going down on my watch."

The man gave in. He was too tired to do much else. Besides, a medic's orders were to be followed without question.

After he finished treating the man, the medic gave him a bottle of water and dropped down next to him. Everyone in the cabin was silent, alone with their own thoughts, but someone had turned on their MP3 player to full volume and music filled the small cabin.

The man reached down several times, but stopped short of rubbing his left leg. The pain was so intense it was hard to sit still. He'd had worse injuries, but they hadn't seemed so at the time. Now, the pain wasn't so readily dismissed. He used to be able to easily leap inside the helo after a mission, but not any longer. Now he had to scramble and pull himself onboard. His body was giving him clear signals that it couldn't handle such punishing work without sustaining injuries and causing considerable pain. The truth was, at the ripe age of thirty-eight, he was getting too old for this kind of work.

He shifted positions, trying to ease the throbbing in his leg. He knew there was only one thing, a distant memory really, that could come between him and the pain, but he hadn't allowed himself to go there – to think of her – while he was still on the run. Maybe now that he was on his way back to the base, he could chance it.

He adjusted his body position once again, easing his shoulders up against the helicopter's cabin wall. The lulling vibrations coming through the metal wall were like a soothing massage on his aching muscles, and the undercurrent of the music booming distracted him from his pain. The song playing was an oldie, not his style, but it was a catchy tune from what he could hear above the drone of the helicopter. Something about "Take a Chance on Me." The woman singing reminded him of someone. Someone he'd not allowed himself to think about because thoughts of her were too distracting. But now... he closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

The café door opened and there she was. She was wearing a black suit with a red silk blouse and sexy black heels. Her legs were bare and what a fine pair of legs they were. She had a wild mass of curly brown hair that floated around her face except for the loose tendrils that were plastered to her sweaty forehead. She stood there for a minute savoring the cool air as it rushed past her through the open doorway. Then she stepped inside the diner and let the door swing shut. Her eyes roamed around the room until they settled in my direction. Our eyes met and it felt like someone had sucker punched me. Her eyes were the bluest pair of eyes I'd ever seen and I knew, right then, I was hooked.