Blood Stained

"There, that should take care of things for you, Boss," Bobby stated wearily as he stood and pushed the steel stool away from the exam table. He wadded the suture kit and bloodied gauze into a ball and aimed for the trash can with a flourish.

Ranger only grunted as he forced himself into a sitting position. The remains of his black t-shirt pooled in his lap, and he brushed it to the side with a scowl. As his feet hit the floor, he cursed under his breath.

Fucking bastards, he thought to himself, breathing gingerly. He agreed with Bobby's assessment, no broken ribs. But shit, he was hurting. He couldn't believe he had been distracted to the point of carelessness.

He was going to need to resolve his personal issues, before the gossipy old women who worked for him began to complain to Tank. Before someone else was on the receiving end of his negligence.

He pulled open the door of the exam room on the 4th floor of his building with his uninjured arm, and hoped to sneak back to his apartment without further incident or discussion about the fucked-up take-down.

"Ranger! Oh, God, look at you!"

Stephanie stood as she heard the door swing open. Until this moment, she had held everything in. The idea that Ranger had gotten hurt, again, on her behalf, had frozen her emotions. Seeing him walking with tender care, favoring his left side, as she took in the expanse of white bandaging that wrapped his rib-cage, she began to shake.

"Babe." Ranger grimaced as he put his arm around her, but there was nothing that could stop either of them from connecting physically at this moment. The contact with the other, the surety of their continued safety could only be found in their embrace.

"I've got the fob," she stated quietly as the elevator door opened on the 7th floor. Ranger hadn't spoken another word since he had pulled her close to him and let the warmth of her settle into his adrenaline-laced body, soothing and calming him.

His quiet was disarming Stephanie. It felt different from all the other wordless hours they had spent together in the years they had known each other. She wasn't sure what to make of this new silence, so she wordlessly helped Ranger to his couch, and fluffed a pillow as he sat down with a whooshing sigh. She looked at him, concern on her face. His eyes were closed, and she could read the pain. Pain he was trying valiantly to hide from her, because he didn't want her to blame herself. She knew this because she knew him. She knew him the same way he knew her.

They never really talked about how they were sometimes two sides of the same coin. Nevertheless, they connected in a way she had never connected with another soul. And without him saying so, she believed the same was true for him.

She decided that nothing more could be done till he was willing to talk. If he was willing to talk to her, not simply bitch her out. She would deserve it. She knew she had messed up badly tonight. Thank God, it was only Ranger who had been hurt, and not the entire team. Small consolation to him.

She shrugged and pulled herself together. Nothing could be fixed right now. She suddenly realized she was exhausted. Mentally and physically, she was wrung out. She kicked off her silver heels and sighed a quiet sigh of pleasure as her toes wiggled in freedom through the plush grey carpet.

She reached up and pulled off the huge RangeMan hoodie that Tank had angrily flung her way after the fight, and tossed it onto the back of the couch. Her eyes were drawn to the clock. Almost 3 AM. She let out a groan at the thought. She had just begun to settle down on the couch when Ranger sat up, bandages and pain forgotten.

"Babe! You're hurt!"

"What? Stop. Ranger, what's the problem?"

She looked at him, and then glanced to where his eyes were fixed. A dark bloodstain had bloomed under her breast, ruining the pale blue silk blouse she had worn on the distraction job.

"No, no, Ranger. It's OK. Shush," she said, trying to calm him. "Sit. Look," she said, pushing him back gently. She pulled the ruined top out of her jeans, and lifted it up to expose her creamy skin. "It's your blood, Ranger," she whispered, as she began to slowly unbutton her blouse. "See? Nothing there," she stood and slowly spun around, blouse in her hand. She looked down at her bra, and saw that it, too, was stained with his blood. She said, "Guess I'm going shopping tomorrow," but the light joke in her voice masked a deeper emotion as she looked at Ranger. His eyes were clouded, and she could see his emotions were on edge.

She sat down on the couch again, and took his right hand in hers. "I'm OK, Ranger." She ran his hand along her ribs, and he pushed back up, so he could cup her breast in his hand. "Babe." She heard something akin to panic in his tone, and she was floored.

He reached for her, and pulled her close, awkwardly avoiding his injuries. He buried his face in her hair, and he took deep breathes. His hands began to run up and down her back, softly, seductively. She melted into his arms. She finally felt safe. His fingers began to do more than reassure him of her wholeness. She felt the change in tempo, and pulled back, incredulous. Ranger was just this side of conscious-- beaten, and bloody. "You want SEX?"

"Babe," he pulled her close to him, "I need to know you are safe...I need to feel you under me... I need to know I can't lose you."

"Ranger, you'll never lose me. I'm yours, always."

"Mine, always."