Standard fanfic disclaimers apply.

Shelter from the Storm

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A/N- Zoë is Baby Manoso from Risky Business (in Take a Chance)—Ranger's dreams DID come true. This "story" is a series of oneshots that continue Ranger and Stephanie's story from Take a Chance. In TAC they were engaged...now what?

Of course if you've read The Price is Right you'll know that in my Plum world/ Mercenary Ranger world, R & S are happily married, work partners, life partners and sometimes bemused, confused, berfuddled parents of baby Zoë and...? Some stories include Julie too, but mostly the series is about Ranger and his daughter Zoë, and how he reconciles his various worlds/ lives. I try hard not to write sappy family fics but I 've always thought JE is making a big mistake not having R & S become life partners in all aspects. I think they'd be great together and this is how I see it happening.

Most of the stories will be posted in chronlogical order [after this prolog] unless I want to tie it into the current calendar year; if you get very confused I'll put a timeline somewhere. Each story is complete in itself, since I never post an unfinished story. However I may add to this at anytime, I'm sure I will in fact. Currently there are maybe 25 "chapters" written.

I hope you enjoy, feedback is wonderful if you care to !

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Prolog: Shelter from the Storm

Part 1- Ranger

Outside the Haywood Street windows a late summer thunderstorm flashed and banged with impotent fury. It was late August, 2 AM.

I sat in the pretty white rocking chair, holding my newest daughter in my arms. I had brought her to the nursery after she was fed and satisfied, but instead of tucking her into her excruciatingly adorable pink crib, I was holding her and rocking her, keeping her safe from the storm.

But like her mother, Zoë Emilia Manoso could sleep through anything. I peered down at her tiny face, the wisps of (hopefully straight) dark hair, the creamy cafe au lait skin, the perfect rosebud mouth. And I marveled at her beauty and tiny-ness. I had never seen Julie when she was this small —Zoë is just 3 weeks old—I missed that with Julie, away on some covert mission, unreachable, untouchable.

The lightning flashed close by, thunder rolled and crashed, audible even through the double bullet-proof glass windows of our expanded Haywood Street loft. The explosive sound and flashing lights took me back—not to the battlefields of Iraq and Afghanistan, but to Delta Force training, all those years ago, me and Tank, under fire during some training exercise. I hated those duck and cover type games, they usually involved live ammo and a lot of injuries, Special Ops' way of determining the survival of the fittest.

And yeah, Tank and I—Bobby, Lester, my half-brother Antonio—we were survivors. So we got to be the real thing—operatives, they called us, not soldiers. And we were—I am—very, very good.

''Ranger?''

''Babe.''

''What's wrong? Is Zoë afraid of the storm?''

''No. Not Zoë. She's fine.''

I rose and tucked my infant daughter, my baby, my treasure into her crib while Steph drew the blinds and the frilly pink curtains. We stood for a moment, holding hands and watching Zoë sleep.

Steph said, ''She'll be fine, Ranger, don't worry.'' I knew Steph meant "fine" in a cosmic sense, not just here and now, tonight.

I nodded and we went back to sleep, both of us secretly praying that Zoë would grow up to be a fashion model or a teacher—a lawyer, a doctor. Or, or,or—something, anything—safe.

Give Me Shelter

Part 2-Stephanie

I stood in the doorway of Zoë's nursery, watching Ranger rock her oh so gently in the big white rocking chair that had been a gift from my parents. My mom had presented it to us, the seat engulfed in a huge pink bow.

My mom said, ''Rocking will soothe a cranky baby and calm you down too.''

''That's so nice, mom.''

''After all,'' she went on, "you're going to need all the help you can get. Neither of you is exactly—well—very good parent material, are you?'' Mom added.

Ranger stared at her in silence.

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My eyes filled with hot tears. I was excited about the coming baby and Ranger was unexpectedly pleased too (in his own understated way, of course). Who ever knew Ranger Manoso loved babies?

As the silence dragged on and on, Ranger's warm hand closed hard around my icy fingers, sending me his silent vibe of calm and safety. If not for Ranger, I would never have known unconditional love and I felt my face turn red with humiliation at my mother's words.

Finally Ranger said, "Your vote of confidence is overwhelming."

(Not!)

My mother stammered a bit, suddenly remembering that her soon to be son-in-law was a very frightening man.

Now I watched him with Zoë—my protector. Our protector. He talked me into keeping that rocking chair—"Don't let her spoil your joy, babe. You'll be the best mother ever."

''I can't cook!'' I sobbed. I was a little hormonal from the pregnancy. That's my excuse and I am sticking with it.

''Ella will cook. I can cook. We'll order take-out.''

''I can't sew!''

Ranger looked a bit puzzled, like why would I want to sew?, but he calmly said, ''Ella will sew. My family can sew."

"What will I do?"

"You'll love this baby forever and always, you'll teach her to fly.''

I didn't try to tell Ranger that he'd be a wonderful father—but of course he is. Not only is he a fine person, intelligent, moral (if gray), honorable and strong; he has a deep well of generosity and love and a quiet, gentle side that he keeps rigorously hidden.

And just look at him now, look at baby Zoë! She is so happy, so content in his arms. His mouth curls up a little in his almost smile and my heart clenches with love for them both. I study their dear faces—Zoë is an amazing, tiny replica of her daddy, only a little fairer, her skin more latte than mocha. And like Ranger, Zoë is already very very beautiful. So beautiful it makes you want to cry—in a good way.

But sometimes—even at just three weeks—sometimes when Zoë and I are alone...I think I see a spark of mischief in her dark eyes. And I smile, knowing that, yes! someday, Zoë will fly.

A Sheltered Life

Part 3- Zoë

My name is Princess Zoë Manoso and I am an InterGalactic Princess. I'm just a baby but I know this is true because my daddy who is maybe the most beautiful person in the universe and definitely the most powerful always calls me his little princess.

For years when he thought about me he called me Baby Manoso, but now I got born and I am a human baby girl with a real name. Zoh-Eeee—excellent, very princess-y. I am a very good baby (I heard Mommy telling that to my grandma Ellen) because I am warm and dry and Mommy feeds me whenever I, um, ask.

But I may not be a happy baby for long because this room I live in is effin' pink, as Uncle Lester says. Pink! What's with that? An InterGalactic Princess—IGP for short—'s habitat should be black and purple, and have silver sparkles all around. And twinkly silver stars on the sky. It should be all silk and velvet and glittery tulle and smell of jasmine and myrrh—not Johnson's Baby Powder! And her music should be cool, should be awesome—not that deedle-deedle-dee Small World crap that my Man-in-the-Moon mobile plays.

As soon as I'm big enough I'm going to get me an InterGalactic laser gun and shoot that thing—lol!

Tonight we had a storm and Daddy held me and rocked me. It was nice, he is big and warm and he smells good. I am so tiny that I fit almost entirely in just one of his big hands, just my feet kinda hang out a little. Poor feet, in those awful pink booties! Soon I will wear black stiletto boots, just watch me.

Sometimes when he thinks we are all alone Daddy sings to me—lullabies in a different language that I understand anyway because (good thing since I can't talk yet, geez!)—I inherited Daddy's ESP.

So he sings soft and thinks I love you, Princess Zoë Emilia. As well he should because I am beautiful and perfect just like him, Mommy says. And he dreams of the future, planning my life all safe and secure. And he is happy, just for a while.

As if an InterGalactic Princess would ever want Safe and Secure!

Hah!

I, Princess Zoë Manoso—I plan to FLY!

''Goodnight, Zoë,'' they whisper. "We love you."

I think, ''Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy. I love you too.''

tbc

a/n 2: this chapter takes place around the same time as The Math Teacher and upcoming Mercenaries R Us.