Operation Lazarus
Rated: M (though probably safe for T Contains: Swearing, Impure thoughts and Minor character death)
Disclaimer: Not mine, I make no money from this drabble.
Note: The idea for this came to me probably over a year ago. I originally thought I'd find a way to work this into one of my longer stories, but that never panned out. Since it's been pestering me for so long and I felt it needed to be written I sat down today and managed to draft it on notebook paper, type it during my kids nap and then get it posted...all in one day! Go me! LOL
Operation Lazarus
The door swung inward on silent hinges as he slipped his copy of her apartment key back inside his cargo pocket. It still amused him that Stephanie believed he picked her locks every time he came to see her—and he could have, there weren't many locks that could deter him he mused ruefully. Though it pained him to admit there weren't many criminally minded deviants that were deterred by her locked door, one of the many reasons he wished she'd take her security a bit more seriously.
Regardless of her flippant disregard for safety beyond a deadbolt (despite multiple examples of its failure) he was glad he didn't have to wrestle his way passed a floor bolt, or take the fire escape to her window…he hated doing that shit—especially when it was raining.
A key was just easier—and faster, though he'd never admit that to her. He liked baffling her with his batman routine, it amused him to no end, and he felt like she enjoyed it as well. Admitting he had a key would be like admitting he was just a man and not the super hero she claimed him to be. He'd never met a woman that made him want to be a super hero more than Stephanie Plum did.
He crossed the dated linoleum square that denoted her tiny apartment's entry way silently shutting the door behind him and twisting the deadbolt back into place. The silence hung in the air around him, the darkness sliding over his dark form like liquid as he moved onto the faded carpet in her living room. She'd had a rough day, foiled by not one skip—but two, lost a car (or most of one thanks to a stint on Stark street.) He'd been in meetings most of the day, but he'd managed to check on her after the car—and he'd promised to check on her later. Later had ended up being the dead of night after a long stakeout and an unsuccessful capture himself…not because he'd rolled in garbage though or been out run—the skip had simply been a no-show.
Something was tugging at the edge of his conscious, Ranger noted frozen suddenly mid-stride. His eyes swept the darkened apartment paying extra attention to the shadows wondering what had alerted him that something was off…
The apartment was silent.
Too silent. Cursing silently to himself Ranger reversed course to the dated and barely used kitchen opposite her bedroom hallway, more certain with each dreaded step that his initial hunch was correct.
The apartment was undeniably too quiet for 2am.
He stared down into the glass rectangle prominently displayed on her kitchen countertop. Clean shavings, a full water bottle and an empty dish—which in and of itself wasn't that unusual. Her fur-baby, as Steph liked to call him, had eating habits as bad as hers and rarely did he let food go untouched for long once it hit the bottom of the little grey ceramic dish.
It was the empty wheel that drew his attention.
Shit.
Ranger lifted the mesh lid that deterred her small roommate's occasional bids for freedom, setting it to the side and reached in to tip up the label-less soup can she kept inside his home. A small pile of shavings slide out…and in the darkness it took his eyes a moment to realize shavings were not the only thing. The little lump of soft tan and white fur lay motionless under his gaze.
"Fuck."
Turning from the glass box Ranger did a quick reconnaissance of her apartment; there was an unopened gallon of Chunk Monkey Ben & Jerry's in her freezer—her kitchen trash was half full and only contained what he considered a normal level of stress-eating Tasty-Kake wrappers.
Needing to be 100% certain before he took action Ranger moved swiftly across the apartment to her half-closed bedroom doorway. Pushing it open to find her sprawled across more than half the bed, limbs akimbo, the sheets tangled around her hips he felt relief and the instant reaction of his body any time he was confronted with the image of his Babe in a state of undress. If he was completely honest with himself it was his immediate reaction even when she was dressed.
She could be covered in garbage, or take-out from her latest skip-mishap and it never failed; less than three minutes in her presence and he was in danger of having a semi-permanent zipper imprint on his rock hard dick.
Tonight she was wearing one of his signature black t-shirts to bed and a black lace thong. Madre dos Dios. He was glad she was soundly asleep, even in the darkness it would be hard to miss the significant tent in his cargos. The hem of her stolen nightshirt had shifted and bunched up leaving a strip of smooth porcelain skin glowing against the dark blue bed sheets.
He wanted to brush his fingertips over the strip of perfect skin. Trace the line of his shirt just under the swell of her breasts before dipping under it cupping them in his hands, feeling the soft flesh give and her nipples pebble under his fingertips…letting his tongue follow the same path his fingers had just explored…
Fuck. His dick was throbbing now. His babe was sound asleep and he was two seconds away from cuming in his pants like a fucking teenager. He really was sexually sick he mused.
Turning his attention from her alluring body Ranger forced himself to focus on just her face, her expression even in sleep always spoke volumes to her mood. She looked soft, angelic and anguish free except for the thin line between her brow; probably worrying over her escaped skip, or her mother's latest harassment. It was clear at a quick glance that her cheeks were rosy, tinted with sleep, not splotchy and red from tears, and there were no tissues piled on her nightstand from a long crying jag that a particularly nasty fight with Morelli or the death of her beloved fur baby was sure to cause…Thank God.
He hastened to leave the room as silently as he'd come—pulling the door softly shut behind him. Tonight was not the night he wanted her waking to observe the purpose of his visit. It flimsy barrier between them also stopped him from saying 'fuck it' pulling off his boots and crawling into bed to ravage her so profoundly she would be beyond caring about anything else…or walking for days.
Bedroom door securely shut Ranger moved back to the kitchen hitting the speed dial on his phone. Despite the late hour it only rang once before he answered.
"Talk," came the muffled but quasi alert voice.
"Les, Operation Lazarus."
"Fuck man," Lester huffed. "You ever think you should just let things progress naturally instead of stepping in all the time."
"Santos," he growled.
"Yeah, yeah…Operation replace the fuck'n fur ball before salty tears is a go." His cousin grumbled.
Ranger hung up and set about pulling an empty plastic bag from underneath her kitchen sink. And then pulled open her cabinet finding two tasty-cake boxes, one nearly empty and the other only just opened. Fitting. He mused. Combining the contents of both boxes into one he fished the tiny lifeless creature that brought his babe so much joy and sense of stability when everything else in her life went to shit out with his fingertips. The little thing barely filled his palm.
"God speed little man." Ranger muttered. Off to the great hamster wheel in the sky. He gently slid him into the box closing the cardboard tabs before setting it on the kitchen countertop. He then proceeded to put the wheel, bowl, empty soup can and water bottle into the sink. He dumped the shavings into the empty white kitchen bag careful not to spill any shavings onto her floor, and set about quietly washing all the items in the sink—and then the tank itself before drying each with paper towels he tossed on top of the shavings in his trash bag.
On the kitchen counter his phone emitted a soft low tone and he moved to open the door grateful that the problem in his pants had receded while he'd been cleaning up.
"Sorry that took so long," Lester managed to whine and whisper at the same time. "Edward was pissing and moaning about the hour." He continued.
"He have the package?"
"Yeah, got it right here." Lester noted raising the tiny handled cardboard box in his right hand to show Ranger as he set his second item—a plastic bag filled with fresh shavings, onto the countertop near the sink. The sound of tiny nails scrambling as the box tipped with Lester's gesture had Ranger scowling. "Be careful."
Lester stared at him dumbfounded, then scoffed. "It's a Rat."
"Hamster." He corrected automatically prying open the folded lid to peek inside comparing the soft tan and white downy fluff and big black button eyes staring back at him with his recently deceased predecessor.
Perfect. But then for the amount of money he spent to keep a perfect doppleganger—or several replacements on hand at a moments notice day or night it damn well better be.
Shit four years ago he hadn't known there was such a thing as a hamster breeder. He figured they just happened—he never sat down and pondered where hamsters came from…hamsters weren't on his fucking radar.
But no, people actually bred the damn things—and there were different breeds. Like dogs.
And he had one on fucking retainer.
Lester peeked over his shoulder and New Rex gazed back up at them, nose twitching indifferently. After a moment he started cleaning his ears with his paws.
"Cocky mother fucker." Lester grumbled. "Edward said to tell you he's an exact copy color-wise. She'll never know…Again."
Ranger glared at him.
"Anyways he's Syrian, fucking Syrian…"
"A teddybear hamster."
Lester stared at him like he'd had a head transplant. Fucker kept it up and he was going to get popped in the mouth, his look must have expressed that because Lester broke off eye contact to stare at the hamster again and continued. "He's hand raised so he won't bite. Seven months old, he said to tell you if you stopped feeding them junk food they'll last longer."
Right. There was no way he was going to have that conversation with her.
"I think I figured out what it is," Lester was still staring at New Rex in the box. The hamster was now staring back at him in a stalemate. "It's the fucking black eyes—like a shark. A tiny fucking rat shark, fuckers got creepy soulless eyes…" Lester lifted a finger to poke at the hamster and jerked it back, "And he bites!"
"Don't piss him off."
"Seriously?!"
Lester was in danger of getting punched in the mouth again. "Don't you have somewhere else to fucking be?" Ranger growled.
"Sorry, I'll let you bond with fucking Cujo" Lester moved to the door mumbling what sounded like Poor pussy whipped bastard…
He'd call him to the mats but he didn't want to risk waking Steph, he'd pummel him tomorrow without warning him first. That would be even better.
Closing the box lid on its tiny occupant Ranger added the fresh bedding to he now clean and dry tank. Then he added the soup can, bowl and wheel in the same locations they'd been upon his arrival. He refilled the bottle of water and moved the tank back to the back counter next to her fridge where it always rested. Then he added the bottle of water to the side. He opened the cardboard container pulling out the tiny animal and holding it lightly in his hand, New Rex's tiny clawed front paws resting on the top of his fist. They stared at each other for a beat neither one blinking before Ranger lowered him into the aquarium and opening his hand to let him go.
He noted with some satisfaction that the little soldier immediately ran a circuit around the perimeter of his new enclosure before holding himself to the same vigorous exercise standards as Old Rex. The kitchen space was once again filled with the quiet squeak, squeak, squeak, as the wheel turned furiously under the power of its new tiny occupant.
Satisfied Ranger gathered the now empty cardboard carrier and shavings bag Lester had brought in adding them to the white garbage bag on the floor. He pulled the strings tight, tying them off he wiped down the counters quickly and washed his hands and then picked up the garbage bag by the red ties and gently picked up the tasty-cake box keeping it level in his hand so the little soldier inside wouldn't slide around.
Ranger left the apartment setting the bag at his feet in the hallway just long enough to retrieve his key and lock the door behind himself. Then he took the stairs to the lot, taking a brief detour to the dumpster tossing the trash bag inside before moving toward his Porsche. The tasty-cake coffin carefully balanced in his hands. He opened the door, sliding inside and setting the box as gently as possible on the floorboard of the passenger seat not wanting to stop for a red light and have the box and its hamster cargo go sliding off the seat. He started his car and glided from the lot and onto the street to the purring rumble of German engineering.
Twenty-eight minutes later just outside of Trenton on a long dark street lined with scattered long cobblestone drives and fenced estates the Porsche glided to a stop in front of a large iron gate. He entered a 9 digit passcode and the gate swung inward as the car pressed forward. He pulled the car to the top of the circular driveway and not bothering to enter the house instead carried the tiny dessert box around the house to the back of the property and the tool shed nestled there past the lap pool and the hot tub. Nestled under the shade of an oak tree older than he was Ranger dug a hole big enough for the blue and white box in perfect line with the six Camilla bushes already planted there.
It didn't take him long, less than seven minutes and he was squatting in the grass to lower the little guy to his resting place beside the others. He partially covered the box with soft dirt and left the shovel propped against the tool shed, he'd call the gardener on his way back to Trenton and let him know to bring another bush when he showed up today so the spot would be marked like the others.
Climbing back into the car and gliding silently back down the drive he wondered if when he brought Stephanie to his home someday if he'd explain the row of neatly trimmed flowering bushes in his back yard, or if he'd let it remain one of the many secrets he kept to himself.
The things he did for the woman he loved.
finis