Disclaimer: The characters you recognize as Janet's are hers, all other characters are mine. Special thanks to JenRar for her beta skills.

A PLUM CHRISTMAS CAROL

I sat in my office, the letter I'd just received by special messenger in my hands as I stared unseeingly out the window of my office. This was the real reason I wanted to keep Stephanie on the outskirts of my life. The hand holding the envelope shook slightly as my thoughts went to the mission that had changed my life.

Emotions had been stripped raw at the time because I'd just signed the papers allowing Ron to adopt my baby girl. I hadn't wanted to let her go…but Rachel had been right about it being easier for Julie to look on Ron as her father when he would be the father of the twins she'd been expecting. She'd added a rider that it wasn't like I had spent much time with her anyway.

In the end, I'd agreed, with the proviso that Julie would know my family and they would be included in her life as much as possible. Rachel had been reluctant to agree, but she'd done it in the end. I clenched my right hand into a fist as I recalled the check I'd had to write in order to make that happen.

When I'd gotten back to my Ranger's unit, there were orders waiting for my team. We were being dropped behind enemy lines, with the goal of taking out a major player in the other team's army. For three weeks, the five of us had lived in hell before we had found the general and I'd taken the shot to end the other man's life. Our troubles were far from over at that point, because somehow, the other team had gotten the information on where we were being picked up. When we'd arrived at the site, we'd walked into an ambush. The whole team had been captured and taken to a nearby camp, where we'd been tortured daily for five more weeks before a Seal Six team had come in and liberated us.

It was during that five weeks that each of us had, at one point or another, made the vow not to get embroiled into a relationship. The group that was holding us was determined to get us to talk and had even stooped to bringing in women and children from a nearby village to torture in front of us as a way of trying to force us to talk. Every time we'd been brought back to our cell, another part of our souls had felt like they were missing because of the dead bodies of the women and children that were piling up.

Each of us had reached our breaking point. When we'd been taken back to our cell, we'd vowed not to let anyone into our lives that could be used against us like these innocents were being used. Each of us knew that, had those bastards gotten hold of someone we loved, we would have told them anything they wanted to know in order to save that person. And in the end, it wouldn't have made a difference because they would have killed them anyway.

It had taken each of us a few weeks to shake off the horror we'd lived through once we'd been rescued and taken back to our unit. We'd given up more than the promise of a future during that time, though. We'd given up on Christmas and all it entailed. It was difficult to get through that time with our sanity still marginally intact. In order to do that, each of us had to ignore the festive mood the rest of the unit was in because it was Christmastime. All we could think about were all the women and children who were no longer alive and the pain and suffering their families were going through this year. And the losses wouldn't just be felt this year, but each year at this same time, because the memories of all that was lost would be fresh in their minds once more.

Just like all those families, each of us would be plagued with memories and tortured with the fact that there had been nothing we could have done to save all those women and children. The memories hadn't faded over time. Nothing got better; in fact, each year, it seemed worse than the year before. I felt like I was the one to feel the brunt of everything. After all, each year, there were new lives to add to the dead. What I was able to hide away throughout the rest of the year wouldn't be denied now.

And not only did I have to live with the memories of those women and children, but the fact that only four members of my team had lived. Three days after our rescue, while the unit was celebrating Christmas Day with a meal and the packages that had arrived from home, Deacon—the youngest member of my team—had walked out into a mine field and tripped an IED. There was nothing left of him to send home to his family.

While the rest of the unit stood somberly, mourning the loss of Deacon, the rest of my team—Jensen, Cambridge, Boone, and I—had turned and made our way to the tent we shared. Boone pulled out a bottle of scotch his family had sent him, and we drank a toast to Deacon for finding a way out of the hell we were in.

Jensen, the man who'd wanted to be a lawyer when he got out of the Army, wrote up a pledge, and we'd all signed it. Each of us had vowed to avoid relationships and to drink a toast to the remaining members each Christmas Day. It was the only acknowledgement we made each year to the day. Jensen was to keep the letter safe, and if he passed away, the letter was to be sent to another member of the team. That continued until there was one remaining member, who received the letter to keep until their death.

Somehow, I think we all figured that day wouldn't be for another fifty years or so. But Cambridge bought it six months after Deacon, and Boone was killed three months after he returned home. The neighborhood gang had been trying to recruit Boone's younger brother, and when Boone had explained to them the error of their ways, the group had taken exception and Boone had been killed in a drive-by, along with the rest of his family.

Jensen had gotten his law degree, and he'd been a damn good criminal attorney. He had the distinction of being the only man to go up against the Russian Mafia and win—even if it was only temporarily. When Jensen had walked out of the courthouse, he'd been gunned down. That had been seven years ago.

That was why I had the letter, which had been delivered to me earlier today. Now I had to decide what to do about it.

A knock on the door brought me back to the present. I slipped the letter into my pocket before calling out, "Enter."

I heard the click of the door being opened, and the scent that reached me had me closing my eyes to savor the fragrance that was uniquely Stephanie. I slammed my blank look in place as I turned to her.

She looked a little paler than usual, and I wondered if something was bothering her. The fire in her eyes seemed to be missing lately as well. She appeared as if she'd burst into tears if anyone said a word to her. "Did you tell them to get rid of my decorations?"

My eyebrow rose. "No. I didn't tell them to get rid of them. I do have a standard order that there are no decorations allowed outside of the men's personal living space, though."

The look on her face crumpled, and she seemed lost. "Why?! There were only a few small things, and they weren't hurting anyone."

I shook my head. "Sorry, Babe. This is one thing I won't budge on."

Tears shimmered in her eyes as I watched her swallow back what she was planning on saying, and then she turned and walked out of the office without another word. It wasn't like her to act like this.

Thinking about her actions over the past few weeks, I frowned. It seemed as if she was less and less like her old self with each passing day.

Before I could think about the matter anymore, Tank strode out of his office and said, "Your next appointment is here. They're in conference room one on the ground floor."

Giving a slight nod of my head to indicate that I'd heard him, I made my way to the stairwell door. Exiting on the first floor, I strode to conference room one, where I was meeting with the company that would be building a home for battered women and children. Each of us had been contributing to the fund over the years, using our own sweat and blood to fund the home, rather than going the quick route and just throwing money at the project.

Entering the room, I greeted the two men who were seated at the table—a father and son construction crew that had been working near the village where we'd been held all those years ago. I'd had both men thoroughly checked and knew they were the right team to use in moving forward with this project.

I shook both their hands. "Hello, gentlemen. I'm Ricardo Carlos Monoso, head of RangeMan Inc. It's a pleasure to have both of you here to discuss this project."

The younger man nodded. His English was faultless, although he had the accent common to his part of the world. "It's a pleasure for us as well, Mr. Manoso. As you know, my name is Miguel, and this is my father Angus. I must say, we were surprised to be chosen for this project. After all, we aren't as big of a company as some others in the region."

My gaze met and held his. "You are trustworthy men, something that can't be said of all of the other construction companies in the area."

The young man bowed his head. "We do what we can for our people. We know what it is to lose loved ones to the monsters in the forest. We made the vow years ago that the deaths of those we loved wouldn't be in vain. We would not let those who killed them win by wallowing in grief. Instead, we choose to live and help others to celebrate life as well."

I felt as if I'd been punched in the gut as I struggled to keep my blank face in place. If these men knew that one of those monsters they spoke of was seated in front of them, I wondered if they'd be as friendly. Somehow, I didn't think so.

I pushed forward the plans for the home that was designed to blend in with the landscape of the area where it would be built. While I waited for them to go over the schematics, I thought about what a home like that would mean to the people there—especially the women and children.

Angus looked up from the blueprint. "We can do. Will take time. Much money. There is danger."

I understood every point Angus Menchacca was making in his broken English. Looking at the two men head on, I said, "I have the money as well as the forces in place that will make this project as safe as possible. As for time, I like the way you work. That's why I chose your company for this project. I can offer to get the supplies to you faster and for them to be safeguarded once they are on site as well."

Miguel's eyes lit up. "That would help immensely. When would you like us to start?"

I took the envelope out of my pocket and pushed it across the table.

Miguel sat forward and picked it up, taking out the contents to read them. His eyes widened in shock. He turned to his father and spoke in their own language for several seconds. When he turned to me, I didn't let on that I'd understood every word. Instead, I accepted his translation without comment.

"I explained your generosity to my father and explained what the contract entails. We had not expected so much profit. It is however, appreciated."

I nodded. "If you have everything, gentleman, I'll have one of my men take you to your hotel room."

Miguel shook his head. "We had not planned to stay. We have our return flight already booked."

I nodded. "I'll have one of my men drive you to the airport, then. Thank you both for coming."

We exited the room, and I nodded to Hal. When he joined us, I said, "I need you to drive the Menchaccas to the Newark airport and make sure they get on their flight."

Hal snapped to attention. "Yes, sir." He tuned to the other two men and smiled slightly. "If you'll follow me, please."

Standing there, I watched as they made their way to the garage. I'd thought getting this project started would help me to be able to sweep the memories under the proverbial rug…but things weren't working out like I'd thought. Instead of feeling a sense of atonement, all I could think about was a pair of beautiful blue eyes that no longer sparkled with life.

Turning to make my way back to the fifth floor, I'd no sooner entered the stairwell, when the sound of bombs going off and gunfire being returned echoed in the shaft. I blinked once, but there was nothing there, even though I was hearing the sounds of battle. Shaking my head to clear it, I ignored the sounds as I took the stairs two at a time.

Stepping through the stairway door onto the fifth floor, I looked around to make sure none of the men were playing games. Everyone was busy in their cubicles. When I noticed Stephanie wasn't at her desk, my gaze swung back for a second look. Frowning, I moved over to where Lester was seated. "Where's Stephanie?"

Lester shook his head as his gaze met mine. "I don't know, man. She came out of your office, grabbed her stuff, and mumbled something about having to finish some last-minute shopping." He gave me a puzzled look as he continued. "Have you noticed how quiet she seems lately? Like all the fire has gone out of her."

Struggling not to show how his words were affecting me, I lifted my shoulder slightly in a shrug. "Maybe she and the cop are fighting again."

Les let out a forceful sigh. "That man isn't right for her. She's in love with you, and we all know it. Why the hell you won't accept that you two would be phenomenal together is beyond me."

My gaze drilled into him. "Drop it."

Lester forcefully swung his chair around so he was looking at his computer.

Leaving him to his work, I continued on to my office. My eyes narrowed as I took in the fact that my chair was turned so the back was facing the door. I never left my chair in that position. Just as I was getting ready to step forward, a small spiral of smoke started drifting up from behind the other side. I was furious that someone had come into my office without permission to begin with, and that anger was increasing by the second at the liberties whoever was sitting there was taking.

Before I could move forward and toss the interloper out of my office, the chair swung around to reveal the only thing there was what looked like a fog centered in the middle of the chair. I felt a cold chill race down my spine.

I pressed my thumb and forefinger gently against my eyes and rubbed, realizing I must be more tired than I'd thought, chocking it up to my eyes playing tricks on me because of the memories of the day.

Moving over to the desk, I sat down and got to work on the projects waiting for my attention.

It was several hours later when the rumbling of my stomach told me how late it had grown while I was involved in finishing up the projects I was working on. I put the files away and logged off the computer before shutting it down. Standing, I stretched. Letting out a sigh, I left the office to make my way up to the penthouse apartment, where I knew Ella would have left me a meal.

The day had been a long one, and I opted for taking the elevator instead of the stairs. My mouth lifted at the corner, and I couldn't help but think it was a good thing that Stephanie wasn't here to see me choosing to ride up in the elevator, rather than taking the two flights of stairs. Of course, once I'd let her into my mind, I couldn't help but remember Lester's words, as well as my own observations when I'd seen her earlier in the day.

When the elevator doors swished open, I stepped out into the alcove outside my apartment. I pressed the fob to unlock the door, but there was no sound to show that the lock had been tripped. Pressing the button again, a moan sounded, as if someone was at death's door. My eyes narrowed as I wondered, What the fuck? Before my eyes, the faces of my four dead friends superimposed themselves on the door to my apartment. My eyes widened and I stepped back, momentarily startled.

Muttering under my breath, "Fuck this shit. Someone's in for a world of hurt when I find out who's playing games."

I took out my lock pick and had the apartment door opened seconds later. When I walked into my home—well, the place that I lived—I tossed the keys into the glass dish I left out for that purpose before striding around the counter into the kitchen. There was a note on the table, and I picked it up to read it.

Ranger,

All the dishes are in the fridge with notes as to how long to put them in the microwave. Enjoy your meal, dear. I do wish you'd change your mind and join us in the cafeteria for Christmas dinner tomorrow. We'd all love for you to be there.

Ella

Opening the fridge, I lifted the lids to see if anything tempted me. The fish and vegetables looked like it would require the least amount of effort, so that's the dish I lifted out. I put it in the microwave, set the temperature and timer to the desired settings, and waited for my meal to heat. When the timer dinged, I carefully removed the dish and sat down at the table to eat my solitary meal.

Emptying the water bottle I'd snagged from the refrigerator, I pushed back from the table and set my dishes in the sink after rinsing them off. Once that was done, I moved into the den and settled on the couch before powering on the TV.

The opening credits of A Christmas Carol started playing. Rolling my eyes, I changed the channels, only to find the same show was playing on that channel, as well. Repeating the procedure several times before giving up in disgust, I turned off the TV and tossed the control onto the coffee table. When the television flicked back on, showing the scene where Scrooge was looking at his doorknocker and seeing the ghost head of his dead partner, Marley, I stood up in order to stride over and pull the damn plug. When the scene continued to roll, I looked around, trying to see if there was some kind of hidden projector or something.

The thought of calling Hector to come up and sweep the apartment was discarded. I had no intention of admitting to the guys that I was seeing things. Moving back over to the sofa, I sank heavily onto the cushion and put my head in my hands.

A voice I hadn't heard in over nine years spoke up, saying, "When are you going to accept that we're here?"

Refusing to make eye contact, I muttered, more to myself than anyone else, "When hell freezes over."

The sound of laughter was loud as not one, but four voices blended in their laughter. Resigned to seeing this through, I lifted my head. There, standing across the room, were partial images of the four men who were members of my first team: Deacon, Jensen, Cambridge, and Boone.

Deacon smiled.

Glaring at him, I motioned to the scene on TV, where Marley was dragging his chain through a wall. "Where are your chains?"

The four of them laughed. It brought back memories of better times…before the horror that was our last mission together.

Jensen shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. Well, only partly. We've been gifted with the opportunity to save you from the same senseless life that we lived. That part is real."

Boone nodded. "Yeah. But we're good guys, so no chains."

Lifting an eyebrow, I waited for them to continue.

Cambridge snorted. "Just tell him like it is." He floated forward to sit on the coffee table. "Ah! That's better. My feet are killing me."

The corner of my mouth lifted as I remembered how he was always saying his feet were killing him. "I don't think you have that problem anymore."

He shrugged. "Nah. But it seemed like something you needed to hear."

Pushing out a sigh, I motioned with resignation to the other three men. "Make yourselves at home. Maybe then you can tell me what's going on here."

Boone floated over and lit on the other end of the sofa. "We were wrong, man."

"How were we wrong?" Although I didn't see how that was possible, I didn't think I was going to get out of listening to them, so we might as well get it over with.

Deacon shrugged. "Our pact. The one we made when we agreed not to let ourselves get mixed up in a relationship."

All four of them nodded. As one, the said, "It's too late for us. Our time has ended. But there is still a chance for you. And there's more at stake than just your happiness on this one. If you don't change, it won't be just yourself you are sentencing to a lifetime of unhappiness."

I shook my head. "We weren't wrong. This is the way it has to be."

Again in unison, they shook their heads. "There is still a chance for you. You'll be visited by three ghosts, the first at one a.m., the second at two a.m., and the third at three a.m. Heed their messages well. Save yourself the anguish of living a life without love."

Darkness descended on the room, as if the power had suddenly gone out. A moment later, the lights returned and I was alone in my apartment, no sign that anyone else had ever been there. I shook my head to clear it.

Deciding to turn in for the night, I stood and made my way into the bedroom. Stripping down, I tossed my clothes into the hamper before pulling on a pair of sweats and climbing into bed. Tomorrow, I was going to have Bobby do some blood tests to make sure someone hadn't slipped me hallucinogens.