Standard Disclaimer: The Plum universe below is all from the creative genius of JE.

Fredda (Rangergirl1234) thanks for signing on for another story. Knowing your beta skills are at work is such a relief.

Amy (beancounter74) thanks for being willing to reprise your roll as Dr. Amy Walker.

Chapter 1 - Hector

A/N: In order to save us all from my poor Spanish skills, I am assuming all the dialogue between Dr. Walker and Hector below occurs in Spanish.

I can't believe I let Stephanie talk me into this. When Ranger announced he was bringing the lady doctor on board and that she would be in charge of our annual evaluations, I was thrilled. I figured she would just pass us all and we could skip this whole waste of time.

I guess I was a little quick on the celebration because the next day Stephanie cornered me in the electronics room and asked if I'd be willing to do my evaluation first to set an example to the other guys that it was important. I've never denied that woman a thing, but she was asking for something I could not give. I had things in my past that were better left there, and I had no intention of baring my soul to a head doctor, no matter how much people thought of her.

In the end, I gave her the only promise I knew I could keep. I promised to come voluntarily, and I would not try to scare her. And that is how I came to be sitting in a little room next to one of Bobby's medical check-up areas. I promised I wouldn't intentionally scare her, but I can't just sit here doing nothing, so I brought my knife and stone.

I heard Bobby and his woman come off the elevator laughing. I can tell she has been good for him and that on top of her friendship with Stephanie earns her some respect in my book.

I tried to ignore the sound of them kissing right outside the door, but I guess being newlyweds makes it hard to keep the sickening sweet sounds to a minimum. I have to give her credit though, when she walked through the doorway her face was not reflecting the moment she just shared with her husband. It was professional, but not cold. She also didn't seem surprised at what I was doing.

I sharpened my knife with the old shrink too, but for him I would work the stone on the blade without watching my hands. I kept my eyes trained on him, daring him to ask me a question. The wimpy shit never said a thing after asking if there was anything I wanted to talk about. Then he would scramble behind his desk and start writing on his yellow pad of paper, and when the little bell on his alarm would signal our hour was over, he would jump up and open the door trying to stand as far away from me as possible. With him I wanted to see him sweat, so it was a game. I had no ill will toward Dr. Walker, so I sharpened my knife only to have something to do.

After she walked in and opened a file, which I assumed had something to do with me; she seemed to speed through the multiple pages of handwritten notes before making a sound of frustration and shutting the folder quickly. Whatever was on that paper didn't please her. I knew she was a soldier and as I watched her I had to work to keep a smile off my face. Her jaw was working from side to side as she reigned in her temper. I always thought a woman who was able to feel her emotions without being reduced to hysterics by them was a fascinating thing to watch.

Satisfied she had gotten over what she'd been thinking about, she turned and looked at me for a few seconds. I met her gaze at first and then remembered my promise to Stephanie, so I looked down at my hands and concentrated on what I was doing.

Then in perfect Spanish she began to speak. "Who taught you to sharpen a knife?"

I looked up to see if she was serious about that question. There was nothing for me to read on her face, so I didn't see the harm in answering it. "No one taught me. I learned it myself."

"That explains it," she said, getting up and walking over to sit on the little table in front of my chair. "May I?" She asked, holding out her hand for my knife.

I hesitated. Was this a trick to disarm me, thinking if I couldn't intimidate her I would play along and spill my guts? Fortunately, I had another knife at my ankle; there was no harm in giving her this one. So I flipped the handle around to hand it to her that way and sat back to see what she thought she was doing. I always had a gun on me, but I preferred my knives. It was how I learned to fight on the streets, and if you were good enough with them they were just as lethal and a lot easier to conceal.

She stood up with my knife and walked over to her desk to tear off a piece of paper from a yellow tablet. Here we go with the damn yellow pads again. But what she did next I didn't expect. She held the paper in her hand so that it stood out stiffly and then sliced across it in a smooth stoke with the knife. It cut in but it tore about half way through.

Thinking she'd made her point she looked back at me and said, "See, the blade isn't smooth. There are places that are sharp, but because your stone is dry, pieces of metal come off the steel and then grind against the stone and blade simultaneously, which makes it jagged instead of smooth. I suppose if you apply enough force it will still cut through most things, but if you're going to go through the trouble of carrying a knife, you want it to be as perfect as possible."

I was at a loss for words. I didn't talk much, but it was usually because I chose not to, not because I had nothing to say. Her words were so unexpected that I had no thoughts in response.

Not really expecting me to say anything, she walked to the corner of the office and opened the door which lead to a small bathroom. She wet a paper towel and brought it over before holding her hand out for the stone I was using. I held it out to her, figuring I had nothing to lose, and watched as she wet the stone completely with the dripping towel and then opened the knife efficiently with one hand and began to move the stone over the blade at an angle to the point. Then she flipped the knife over and did the same thing to the other side of the blade. Occasionally, she would stop and look at the blade or run her finger over it, but she didn't hurry, nor did she seem to mind me watching her.

When she finished she picked up the piece of paper in her hand, folded it over, and brought the knife down it, effectively slicing it in half as though it were butter on a dinner table. She turned the handle back and handed it to me. "See?" She asked, pointing to the knife.

I ran my hand down the blade and had to admit, it had never been that smooth. It was deceptive because on its side one would almost think it wasn't a threat, but change the angle only slightly and it would obviously cut through flesh with no resistance.

I couldn't help but smile at the obvious improvement her efforts had made to my weapon. Then I decided to give her a test of my own. I folded the blade back into the handle and put it in the holster at my belt before bending down and pulling out the switchblade at my ankle and handing it to her.

She hit the knob to engage the blade as though she spent plenty of time playing with weapons like mine. Then she looked at the blade and grimaced. She pointed to a place about half way down and said, "There is a nick in the blade, so we can sharpen the rest of it around that imperfection, but without a metal file and a lot of work, we won't be able to get that out. Still, it's better than nothing, and quite frankly, if you know what you're doing, that little mark isn't important. It's only a problem if it's in the wrong hands."

She looked in my eyes when she said that. I had a feeling she wasn't really talking about the blade, but refused to ask. I guess she felt that just because something had a perceived flaw in its appearance didn't mean it still couldn't be useful. Instead of trying to figure out her coded comment, I watched her work with careful precision as she moved the stone on the metal and then inspected her work. When she was finished she twirled the handle in her hand and spun it in the air, catching it easily and then folding the blade back inside.

"Thank you," I offered when she handed it back to me.

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile before standing up and saying, "Now that we've got that out of the way, maybe you can do a favor for me."

Here it comes. I knew this was going too well to be true. Doctors didn't do things for people like me without a high price. If she thought just because she had a respect for a good knife, and she helped me sharpen mine that I was going to just answer all her questions, she had another thing coming. I'd come up with some other tactic to avoid looking at her and shut down completely if she tried pushing me.

"Ranger wants me to use this office, so I was setting up the computer, but I have way more wires than reasons I can come up with for needing them. I wondered if you'd help me sort this out?" She pointed to the side of the desk, and I saw what she meant. There was a tangled mess of wires back there that absolutely didn't belong.

"I'll help," I quickly offered, glad to have a task that I knew I could do and that I could use as a tactic to avoid her assessment. I moved to the back of the desk and pulled the nest of cables away to sit on the floor and sort them out. Some were in knots, and just as she thought, most were unnecessary, but the only way to fix this mess was to take the time to straighten it out one line at the time.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked as though she weren't happy to just sit and watch me work. She reminded me more and more of Stephanie the longer I knew her.

"I can do it," I told her. The minutes ticked by, and as I began to make headway I figured it wouldn't hurt to have a little conversation, so I stopped and looked at her to see her watching me. Then I glanced at the top of the large desk at the folder she'd been reading and asked, "Why did it make you mad to read that file?"

I immediately looked down, giving her time to frame her answer. She took a few minutes before answering. "It was the last couple of assessments written by the old man that was supposed to do reviews of you. It was page after page of assumptions based on your outward appearance. In essence, he admitted to being afraid of you, thinking you were a menace, and probably ready to snap with no real justification. But he passed you anyway because if he declined to issue a positive filing then he would have to do follow up work with you, and the idea of enduring more than an hour once a year with you made him afraid for his life." I had to work not to laugh at her answer. It was exactly the kind of impression I wanted him to have, so it was nice to know I had the skills to pull it off. But the soft words she semi-whispered next undid me. "Where did Ranger get such a pussy to do these evals?"

I couldn't hold it in any longer, and I busted out laughing. Tears ran from my eyes, across my tats, and down my cheeks. When I quieted down and looked up at her she seemed embarrassed and said, "I'm sorry; that last part wasn't really professional was it?"

"I guess that depends on how you define professional. I agree with you, so there's no need to apologize," I quickly told her, forcing my attention back to the ball of cables I was finally winning the war with.

As I laid out the last wire I thought of something she said and asked, "Do you think I would snap with no real reason?" I had a temper, and it had gotten me into trouble enough as a kid that it both insured my rise in the gang I joined and insured I'd not live to see twenty had Ranger not intervened when he did. I liked to think I had it under better control with fifteen years of experience fighting for the good guys, but from time to time something would happen and I would see red, unable to hold back the need to make someone pay.

"No, I have no concern that you would do that." I looked at her as she spoke, trying to see if she was just saying what she thought I wanted to hear. My attention gave her permission to continue. "However with the right motivation I think you would absolutely have no issues avenging a wrong against someone you love, or protecting yourself or your family."

"I have no family," I corrected her. My father never existed as far as I was concerned. My Mother raised me until she died when I was ten. Then I moved to live with my Grandmother. She took me in until she was gunned down outside a gas station when I was fourteen. Apparently, she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no family left to take care of me, so I took care of myself. I fell in tight with a gang and they became my family. Once my activity there took the notice of the cops it was just a matter of time before I was arrested and skipped bail. If it weren't for Ranger, I'm convinced I'd still be hiding from the law…or dead.

Before I could get any further in that line of thinking Dr. Walker interrupted me to say, "Family has nothing to do with blood. Are you telling me you don't love Stephanie as dearly as you would have loved a sister? The fact that her skin is pale and yours is dark has nothing to do with how you two are related. Did your blood not boil when she was abducted last year and held by that crazy fool of a skip? Once you heard where she was being held, did you rationalize out that you needed to stay at RangeMan because she wasn't your concern – she wasn't your family?"

"No," I answered her even though I knew she didn't expect it. "I traced the location where she was being held from a cell phone signal, then I jumped in my car and sped there to kill the bastard that tried to hurt her." I realized that was probably more than I should have said. She'd probably say I wasn't able to control myself and shouldn't be allowed near people.

"Exactly," she surprised me once again. "But once you got there and Ranger pulled up at the same time, you didn't do anything foolish. You assisted the team that apprehended the skip, and then you turned to Stephanie who was scared, right?"

I shook my head yes. "She was under a small table in a ball. Despite her being a woman, she looked like a scared little girl, so I crawled under the table with her and pulled her head to my chest to hold her until she could relax. It took her a while to calm down, but I waited with her until she was ready to get out of her hiding place."

"See," she told me as though she had somehow made a point. "If you were a man too dangerous to have in the field you would have gone in, killed the skip, and left Steph alone. But you defended your family, you cared for her, and you did the honorable thing for every part of that messed up situation. You are a good man. The fact that you don't package it in a way that old men can pick up on isn't your fault, it's his."

"Does this mean I will pass my evaluation?" I asked her, trying not to care one way or the other how she answered my question.

She smiled and said, "Of course you will. This isn't a test like that. I already had an idea of the caliber of your character based on watching you work. You're meticulous; you wait for the details before forming a plan that will bring about the result you want. You are stealthily quiet, and you don't hesitate to do what must be done. As far as I'm concerned, you are exactly the kind of man I would want serving with me if I were still running missions of my own."

I couldn't help but smile at that description. There were only a handful of people who said things like that about me, and I wasn't sure how to respond.

"As if all that weren't enough to convince me when you were sharpening your knife, you weren't doing it in a threatening way. It was almost like you were just doing it to have something to do. You weren't staring me down, and when I asked you a direct question about it you answered it," she explained, filling me with relief that once again I had given the exact impression I wanted to. I hid a smile at the thought that I might be on the verge of becoming a people person.

The silence began again, and I looked back down at my work to begin the process of putting her computer back together again. "Do you think you can fix it?" She asked, leaning toward me.

"Yes, there are few things that can't be fixed enough to serve a purpose," I told her, hoping she understood I was talking about more than computers.

She watched me work, without interrupting, and when I was satisfied everything was hooked up as it should be, I hit the power switch and watched as her monitor flicked to life with the Window's logo. She smiled and put her hand on mine giving it a warm squeeze. "You did it!" She exclaimed, as though she doubted her computer could be resurrected. Before it had a chance to bother me she took her hand back, but she did it naturally, not because she realized she was touching me and was suddenly afraid that she might get hurt from the contact.

I had misjudged her. Dr. Walker, or I guess Dr. Brown now that she was married, was a remarkable woman.

I leaned against the wall, still sitting on the floor, and watched as she typed in a password and then grinned at the success of getting into our network. Not going any further than just logging in, she pushed her rolling chair back a little and looked back at me. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," I replied, careful not to agree that she'd get an answer in reply. I might respect her now, but I wasn't a fool, and my natural caution of people had kept me alive so far, so I didn't see a reason to buck what worked.

"What do you think of Lester and Stephanie together?" She asked, once again pulling a question out of thin air that I didn't expect.

I hadn't really thought of it in those terms, so it took me a minute to compose an answer. "I think he loves her, and I like the way he lets her be free and supports her at the same time. But I didn't like the way he married her and left. Since he's come back, he's made up for it, but if he hadn't, I would have pulled him aside to let him know that wasn't how I expected him to treat her."

"You were angry because he left after they got married?" She seemed confused.

"No, he cannot help when his number is called, and he has to go with his orders. I didn't like that he hid it from us, which left Stephanie without our protection and support while he was gone. He should have manned up and announced it to us all, so we could celebrate with them. It would have made his leaving easier for him, and much easier for her," I told her, summing up why I had resented the secret when I first heard of it.

"I agree," she quickly responded before following up, "But what changed your mind so that you didn't call him out for the secrecy?"

"He did it to keep her safe. I've seen the way he looks at her now, and I know if he'd not been worried for her life, then he would have been shouting it to everyone who would listen. He did not hide it out of shame, but out of fear that it was the only way to protect her." That much had been clear to me from the moment I watched him get out of the truck and lean into her when they first arrived back at Haywood after his mission. "Besides, he makes her happy, and that's all I want for her. I would not risk messing with her heart to punish him for the past."

"Hector?" She got my attention from the picture I had in my mind of the way Stephanie would come in each morning and plop down in Lester's lap at his desk. She positively glowed and I would never admit to it, but I pulled up the camera angle that allowed me to watch them every time I was aware they were being reunited from a brief separation. Even on a grainy black and white monitor, I could see her joy. It made me feel a little lighter every time I saw it. Realizing the doctor had another question I blinked to clear the image and looked over to her.

"You are a good man," she told me with no hint of teasing. I looked down, uncomfortable with the unearned praise.

"You are a good man, and I'm very glad to have met you. I would consider myself very fortunate to be able to one day count you as a friend." I looked back to her face as she finished speaking, and I saw she was completely serious. Then she pushed her luck and asked, "So is there any reason your face doesn't have the same look of joy on it as Stephanie's?"

I had to laugh at that less than subtle prying into my private life. "Of course there is a reason."

She rolled her hand in the air trying to get me to say more. Figuring it wasn't a big secret around here I told her, "If I meet a man that looks at me the way Lester looks at Stephanie, then I will have the same expression on my face that she does."

The doc didn't miss a beat before coming back, "There's someone I'd like you to meet. You might think he's a little bland at first glance, but I have a feeling you might be able to appreciate some of his qualities in ways that others do not."

"What qualities?" I wondered aloud.

"He liked Stephanie from the moment he met her, he was willing to put himself in front of a bullet to save her, he risked his job and in many ways his own life by sharing information to help Lester figure out what was going on, and he dresses in a suit for work, but there is an air about him that tells me he puts it on like a uniform for his job, but at heart he is anything but a stiff in a neck tie." She rattled off her reasons, and I was definitely intrigued by her description.

"He travels a good deal for his new job. Right now he's based in DC, but I understand his new boss said he could move his office to wherever he wants it to be. Stephanie and I were planning on meeting him for lunch when he's in town next week and try to convince him to consider Trenton as a good hub for his travel. Why don't you join us?" She suggested. "He's good looking, single, and I'll bet he'd love the look of you from the moment we introduce you."

"I will think about it," I told her, even though at heart I knew I would go. She might not realize it, but her description of him hooked something in me. I had no interest in dating a man just like me. I didn't want someone that dark with the same history I had. I needed someone to lighten my life, but also someone who would be capable of accepting what I had been through, and what I was trying to do now.

She smiled and glanced at her watch before saying, "I'm sorry I kept you here so long."

I checked my own watch and saw I'd been with her a little over two hours and couldn't believe it.

"You aren't at all what I expected," I confessed to her.

"I hope that's a good thing," she responded hesitantly.

Standing up, I smiled at her and unconsciously checked my knives before replying, "It's a very good thing." At the door I put my hand on the knob, but before opening it I asked, "If my blades get dull, and I can't get them back as sharp as you did, can I come back to see you?"

"Hector, if there is ever something I can do, my door is always open for you," she replied kindly. I glanced back as I opened the door to leave and knew she understood I wasn't just talking about weapons, and she wasn't just offering help with a blade. I didn't know if I'd ever need to talk to someone, but if I did, I wouldn't be nervous about confiding in her.

I walked past Bobby's office and saw him typing with his right leg bouncing in a nervous jittery way. I knew the guys respected me, but even if they wouldn't admit it, they were a little afraid of what I was capable of as well. I decided to set his mind at ease about the amount of time his woman had just spent with me. "Hola," I said causing him to spin around to face the door.

"Your wife is a good woman," I told him.

He smiled appreciatively. "She really is," he readily agreed.

I started to walk away and he called out, "Thanks man."

I kept walking, unsure if he was thanking me for complimenting his wife, or for taking it easy on her as the shrink. Either way worked, and neither needed a response. I didn't plan on sharing anything that happened in her office, but I was planning on spreading the word to the guys scheduled to meet with her next that I expected them to treat her with the same respect they did Stephanie.

I was going to pull her under my protection. She might be a tough Army gal, but I had some things I could offer her that she might not realize she needed. It had been a few years since I'd met someone I was willing to step out and support, but she was one of the rare ones in the world that I wanted to watch over. She was going to do well here at RangeMan. Her skills would take her far, and I'd take care of the rest.