A/N: Okay, here goes my first fanfiction for this fandom! I'm a complete Babe fan at heart, and so I'd like to contribute to the ranks of amazing stories. It's just a small one.
Rating: T
Set: From Stephanie's POV
Disclaimer: No, I don't own the characters/plot/etc. They belong to Janet Evanovich and I am respectfully borrowing them for my own amusement.
Sentinel
He's here.
I can feel it.
Before I'm even fully aware and awake, I know he's in my room, watching over me, a silent sentinel in the night. It begins with the hair rising on the back of my neck, the tingle down my spine. And then the tightness in the pit of my stomach as I wonder why he's here.
Ranger.
My mentor, my best friend, and on one spectacular occasion, my lover. And now...I don't exactly know what we are.
But I'm Stephanie Plum. Stuff like this always happens to me. I'm always stuck in the middle of...something. Whether it be a dangerous skip situation or at my parent's house during a crazy dinner, something is always happening in my life. Ranger sneaking into my apartment in the middle of the night being case in point. I turn in my bed sheets, facing towards the chair that I call 'his chair.'
"Ranger," I whisper softly, taking in his handsome profile.
Half of his face is bathed in moonlight, highlighting his strong, angular jaw and aquiline nose, those full sensuous lips that have kissed me numerous times. The other half is shrouded in darkness. Dark, like his eyes trained on me. They are unfathomable in the shadows of my room, and I am torn between slipping back into a secure sleep with him watching over me, and turning on my nightlight and asking what's brought him here.
But there's never a guarantee he answers.
"Go back to sleep Babe," he says, leaning back.
I would have obeyed, but two things made me do the opposite.
One, I don't like being told what to do. Even if what I'm being told is best for me. Hey, I'm just going to blame Hungarian stubbornness genes.
Two, his tone.
He's weary and exhausted, and something has happened. Something bad. He rarely releases his iron control, so when he does, he really feels it.
I slid out of my covers, not bothering with my night light, and stride over to him. I'm in one of his old shirts and boyleg panties. Usually, it's a temptation for him, and that's another indicator something is wrong. He doesn't reach to touch me, but looks me over as if I'm the last thing he'll ever see, drinking in my form.
"Ranger? What happened?" I ask quietly, not wanting to push him away from me. I want him to let go of the demons currently tormenting him.
I can see his eyes now. The chocolate orbs are dark with anguish, rare and painful for me to see, but I restrain the urge to jump onto him and clutch him tight to me. He's the man I love, but I can't do that to him. Not yet. The fragility of this moment almost makes me queasy.
"It's okay," I say, hoping it's true.
Ranger's breathing is even, and he looks perfectly controlled, but when he speaks, his voice is raspy and tight with tension.
"Bad raid tonight. And illegal underground brothel. Girls as young as 14, imported from all over the US and other continents. And.." he stops, looking straight into my eyes, and this move shows me just how much he trusts me. He confides in me like no other. We both know it. It's undeniable. And I know there's more to the story. I know it'll probably be horrible, but no less than the crap I've seen as a bounty hunter.
He soldiers on like the strong man he is.
"There was one woman we found chained and violated. Her head down. And her hair...it was just like yours."
Crap. Crappity crap crap. It's the worst when he tells me these ones, when he finds someone that resembles me. Because for a split second, he thinks I'm hurt. And he wasn't there to save me.
And only for that second, it's enough to remind him of how dark the world can be.
"But her eyes were different. They were brown," Ranger adds, a tone of finality coming across. He doesn't want to talk anymore.
"Ranger," I say. I feel inept sometimes, because it's the only thing I can really say at this point. What else can I do? One time I tried to lighten up the mood, but his heart wasn't in it. So I let him work his way through the horror of the night, and lean forward to place a hand on his shoulder to squeeze in reassurance.
It doesn't get there, and is taken prisoner by one of Ranger's own. I look at our intertwined hands, silently enjoying the thrill that goes through me when I see his dark mocha-latte skin against my paler shade. It's beautiful. But I have a feeling I'm the only one appreciating it right now, for the man-in-black, my personal Batman, is silent, staring at me.
"Babe…Steph," he croaks out hoarsely.
And then he's on his knees before me, holding me close to him, his face resting on the soft skin on my stomach and his arms wrapped around my back. Tears prick my eyes as he shudders and shakes, desperately holding on to me like I'm his last lifeline. He doesn't cry. No, Ranger's very good at controlling his tears. I've never even seen one.
"Shh," I murmur, reaching down and threading my fingers through his hair, removing the leather tie holding the silky dark tresses back and caressing through the strands over and over, massaging his scalp as I go.
I can't help but grimace as Ranger gathers up his control.
This is going to be awkward in the morning. I hate that. These few moments I am gifted with in which he shows me just how much control I have over him turn into awkward pauses the next day before the usual rhythm of 'whatever-we-are' kicks in again.
"Babe," he rasps, and I can tell he's under control, and he feels better.
I must be therapeutic for him. Huhn.
"You must be exhausted," I say quickly, saving him from making the moment even more emotionally trenched for us. "C'mon, stay here for the rest of the night. I don't think you should drive back to Haywood."
He nods, still resting against my stomach area. Leech Ranger is definitely a new Ranger I've never encountered before.
Okay, not really fair to him, but a semi-funny thought all the same.
I tug on his arms, and he gets the message. Standing gracefully, his eyes meet mine and a wave of relief washes over me. Contentment is shining out of them. There's still a trace of being haunted, but that's normal. I pull him towards the bed, but not before he strips off his boots, socks, and shirt standing there in only his cargoes. If it wasn't for the solemnity of the moment, I would have drooled at his lickable abs. Mmmmm.
"Babe," Ranger chuckles, a spark there as he catches me staring.
I merely smile at him, sliding under the covers and holding my hand out to him. He takes it, slides in and pulls me close, warm hands resting on the sides of my face.
"Thank you," he breathes, and then he covers my lips with his own, making me melt. His lips are magic, and I can't help the moan that escapes me as his tongue flicks out at my top lip.
"Sleep Babe," he coaxes. And I do, snuggling up to the warmth of his body and drifting off, secure in his arms.
A/N: So…did I do all right? I hope I captured the moment. Let me know! I'd love reviews.
