Everybody and anything familiar belongs to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine. Thank you for your reviews, favorite and alert adds, and most of all ... for giving this story a chance.
Chapter 2
STEPH POV
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked Morelli, not pleased that he was hanging out in my parking lot when I'd made a last minute decision to stop at my apartment and pick up some more clothes.
I've been stressed enough, trying to keep positive thoughts on where Ranger is and how he's doing, which is a bitch in itself, and only receiving one impersonal military message that I interpreted as 'The person you love beyond all thought and reason is probably still alive, but we don't want you to get your hopes up. You'll see him again only after we've gotten what we want from him'. Sure ... it's a bitchy way of looking at their appreciation for the service Ranger is providing, but not being able to reach or talk to Batman is getting to me in a major way.
When I make coffee in the morning, it gets cold as I zone out ... wondering if he's been able to eat and sleep properly. When I go out on an apprehension with my Range-partner of the day, I pray to God that no one is, or has been, shooting at him. Whenever I have dinner at his parents' house, now an almost every night-thing, I want to cry because I recognize the same fear and gut-wrenching worry on Mrs. Manoso's face that I know I'm walking around with.
I think it's physically impossible for me to love another human more than I love Ranger, but it does take balls to get through some parts of loving a man who has a purpose in life almost as all-consuming as his love for me. As much as any and all separation and not-knowing hurts ... I'll get through it because Ranger will be at the other end of this.
"Guess Manoso's not back yet," Joe said, not doing a good job of hiding his joy at me being Ranger-less.
"If you want to keep your face intact, you'll leave now without saying anything else. I'm not in the mood."
"So he's turned you violent as well as anti-social?"
"What can I say ... I like hanging out with the guys on the job and off. And I'm loving one specific section of Newark. I'm plenty social with the people I actually want to talk to."
"Which isn't me or your family?"
"You I haven't even thought about, let alone want to speak to. And my family is none of your business. Go home ... to your home. Tank made me promise to call him anytime I have a problem, and you are quickly becoming one."
"I care about you, Cupcake."
"So you say, but you've always had a funny way of showing that. I think it's more your ego you care about. And it pisses you off that the guys at the station still bust your balls over the fact that I wanted/and still desperately want Ranger and not you."
"Not all of us have a ton of dirty money to throw at someone ..."
"I'm not a gold digger or a whore, you prick! Money doesn't mean shit to me ... the man does. I could be a billionaire or broke, homeless or in a mansion on the coast, permanently disfigured or perfect, and you'd still need a crowbar to pry us away from each other. I'm not dealing with you, Morelli. Leave now or I'm going to shoot you. Eddie offered to handle the paperwork on the case if I do."
"The psycho really has brainwashed you, hasn't he?"
I was about to get back in my car, scrapping the extra-clothes plan, but I whirled around and almost broke my finger jamming it into his chest.
"While you were on a friggin' boat somewhere, drinking beer and planning when and how you were gonna get laid again, Ranger was putting himself between a bullet and anything living or dead, fighting for his life and the lives of all the men with him. He even started a company just so he could be sure they stay okay after they come home. So don't you fucking dare insult him! He continues to go through hell while you stay safe and sound, acting like a horndog. He didn't desert me like you've been hoping he does. He's not here right now because he'll always choose to put himself on the line to keep even asses like you out of the line of fire. If anyone is psycho, it's you, which explains why you're stalking me instead of forgetting everything about me. Ranger's as unselfish as you are narcissistic. You've never appreciated what you have, and you still blame everyone else for your own fuck-ups. Grow up ... or better yet, just go away."
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"Unfortunately ... I do. Ranger's mom and I have gotten pretty close, and like any proud Mama would, she let me see all the pictures she has of him. He was so young, too fucking young, to see and do what he's had to. You can stare at a pictures taken six months, a year, two years apart, and actually see the look in his eyes go from empowered and eager to fight for what he believes in, to far-too-experienced and no longer shocked at the amount of pain and evil people can inflict on one another. And ungrateful assholes like you just go on with your life, never thinking about those men and women who don't even know if they'll still have a life in an hour. To paraphrase a song Bobby was listening to, hypocrites like you say how important they are as soon as a war breaks out, but forget them a second after they leave to fight it, and ignore everything they need if they do make it back home. I've always wondered if why you stuck with something long enough to become a homicide detective, is just so your job would mostly involve victims who can't shoot back. Or maybe it's so you can throw your weight around and order officers like Carl and Big Dog to go get the bad guys for you so you don't get hurt ... and automatically blame guys like mine for murders you can't solve instead of thanking them for everything they do in this country before and after they're deployed."
I'm sure Carl, and the fellow detectives at the TPD, wouldn't be thrilled with my summary of what they do every day, but I'm too pissed at 'Poor Me' Morelli to play fair or to shut up. These past few weeks of little sleep, nail-biting fear, and hearing never-been-told-before Ranger-stories from the Manoso parents, siblings, and Rangeguys ... about the baby, boy, and now the less-mysterious man that I love, has my heart ready to burst at just the thought of seeing Batman. But it also has my temper set to blow when it comes to the Italian Jackass - not stallion - who decided it'd be fun to spend his evening annoying the shit out of me. My emotions need a target and he essentially volunteered to be one by not leaving me the hell alone when I'd hit the end of my stress-tolerance ten minutes after Ranger left.
"I bet when you got bored with Navy life, you came home to a pan of lasagne and a family ready to indulge and excuse you again. While those like my Ranger who have to shoot people everyday just to stay alive themselves, come home to insults, hurtful questions, or nothing at all ... like they were just off vacationing at Club-freakin'-Med or something."
I should step down off my soapbox, but I passed rational ten minutes ago. He's always known what buttons to push to get a reaction out of me, and he's standing on the biggest one right now.
"You get Grandma Bella threatening anyone who calls you out on your crap, and your mom babies you more than she does her own grandchildren, but the good guys are essentially left all alone to deal with a completely different way of thinking, feeling, and living. Tank and the guys have a number of buddies who came back missing parts of their bodies, and too many are missing actual heartbeats when their families get to see them again. The crap you keep spewing to anyone who'll listen about Ranger and his men makes me want to throw up ... on you. A real man protects his loved ones, other people, his country or at least its citizens. You hide behind them and even use them to get yourself out of trouble. Ranger has earned every bit of the respect he's given and it's pathetic that you can't see why that's so important."
It's a stupid, dangerous, and insulting, misconception, that if you don't talk much ... you're either dumb or you don't have any actual feelings. But loving Ranger, and becoming pretty good friends with his men, I found out the exact opposite is true. Their brains solve problems at a frightening speed and they all feel too damn much! It's physically painful to watch them struggle to contain or express their feelings and thoughts on top of coming up against assholes like Joe looking down on them, when he really should be kissing the fucking ground they walk on for defending his right to be a dickhead.
When Ranger took off his dog tags and slid them over my head and onto me, my breath caught and my body went dead-still. I swear I could actually smell him ... the sweat, evil shower gel, and his adrenaline rushes and crashes, not just the metal his body had warmed up. And call me crazy, but I sensed every emotion he felt while he'd been wearing them. Images flashed in my mind of what his life must've been like at the time. He wasn't handing me a 'memento', or offering a talisman to ward off something bad, he was voluntarily giving me a piece of himself ... and we both knew it.
I heard a vehicle slowing down to pull into my apartment's lot, and my heart started racing when my neck started tingling. That can only mean one thing ... Ranger's home! I've been dreaming of this moment for almost a month ... and I don't want to share it with Morelli. The jerk isn't about to leave, though.
"Stephanie, use your head for once," Morelli said to my back, since I'd already turned and was about to break Olympic records to reach the black truck that hadn't even stopped moving yet. "It's not safe for you to be around him. You don't know what guys like him are capable of when they get back home and have to act normal again."
My anger had been about to reach stroke-level, but there was room for a little more rage apparently.
"Thanks to the guys being there for me and helping me through this, and Ranger sharing a little of his past with me before he left, I do have a slight idea of what he's been through. The absolute least I can do is say 'thank you' for risking his life to help whoever was in trouble now ... and I plan on doing way more than just thanking him for his service."
"He's dangerous, Cupcake ..."
"No ... I'm going to be the dangerous one if you keep using that name and tone on me. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about with Ranger, or anyone else like him, so don't tell me when I should be around him, or how I should take care of - and love - my guy."
"He's a fucking robot, Stephanie ... he's not 'your guy'."
"There is nothing robotic about. He's a warmer and more loving human being than you could ever hope to be. And he is definitely my guy. I've got his heart and ID to prove it," I informed him, feeling the metal of Ranger's dog tags against my skin, kept private under my shirt, and the heart on my finger that Morelli looked at but wouldn't comment on. Both symbols have stayed exactly where Ranger and I put them. "And I do know exactly how to make him feel better. Unlike you, I pay attention to what I say is important to me, and Ranger surpassed important long ago. If you weren't so wrapped up in yourself, you would've seen that and wouldn't be here now. Now leave!"
I went to move away from him so I could give my Soldier the welcome home he deserves, but once again Morelli fucked up my life. As I took a step towards Ranger, Joe grabbed the back of my shirt to prevent me from going anywhere, catching the chain of the tags in the process and jerking those, too, so they all but choked me as they came out of hiding. Touching me at all was a huge mistake on his part, touching something special of ours had me set to hurt him and warn him to keep his fucking hands to himself, but Ranger was already out of his rent-a-truck and bearing down on my past-life problem.
"Let go of me before I hurt you or Ranger kills you," I hissed at Joe, but his time was already up.
In two seconds flat, Ranger had left the truck, leaving the engine still running and the driver's door open. He had Morelli's neck in a death grip and the offending arm bent backwards towards breaking-point in the other after he'd pushed me to safety behind his body. Joe's forehead hit the lot's macadam hard. I didn't feel bad for him at all. In his warped mined, walking into the Morelli garage on my own when I was just a curious kid, absolved him of any responsibility even though he'd already fingered half the girls in neighborhood by then, which to me made him a systematic pervert instead of just an equally-curious kid. So him not leaving means I don't have to feel anything except glad to see him put in his place for once.
I thought Ranger would stop there, but when Joe started struggling to get to his feet again ... all hell broke loose. I wasn't scared for me. Call it naive, but I know in my bones that Ranger would never hurt me. Morelli's a different story, though. I believe Ranger's just been waiting for the opportunity to seriously injure him. Joe trying to control my movements, as well as interfere with this homecoming, wasn't appreciated by me ... and it wasn't going to be tolerated by the Army Ranger who loves me.
The situation escalated when Morelli wouldn't shut up or stop moving, and Ranger refused to let up. He grabbed Joe by the shaggy hair and slammed his head into the ground again. Morelli was belly down and my guy had his knee in the jerk's back, yanking his arms sharply behind him and zip-tying him with apparently no effort or thought at all. He's verbally and mentally toyed with Joe before, but this is something different.
Morelli was left hog-tied, but still Ranger wasn't relaxing his guard.
"You're fucking crazy," Joe shouted, which earned him a kick to the ribs that shut him up quickly.
Or maybe it was Ranger's Glock now pointed at his head, fully engaged, just waiting for a reason to fire, that had him going silent. I was afraid of that, too, but for different reasons.
"Ranger," I said, leaning in close, "you're scaring me. Please ... I need you to take me home where it's safe."
No reaction on his part. Joe was cursing under his breath, but I think he finally understood the gravity of the situation. One wrong move and he'll be dead. The three of us were all aware of that on some level, and I'm the only one who can prevent it.
I kept talking so Ranger would hopefully know at least subconsciously that it was me touching him. I kept my voice quiet and calm as I pressed myself to his back and held on, switching to what Ranger teasingly calls my 'Bedroom Babe voice', hoping I could break through whatever memory or situation he's currently reliving.
After a few facts Ranger shared before he left, and to keep me from going insane while waiting for him to call or come home ... Tank, Bobby, and Lester, supplied more information that had me making it a point to know the red flags to look for and what I could do to hopefully offset them. Of course, if Morelli would've gone to see Bob instead of me, this whole nightmare could've been avoided.
"Shut up, Joe, before he shuts you up for good," I advised.
I pressed my lips to the bare skin above the collar of Ranger's t-shirt and I felt his body ripple in response.
"Come back to me, Batman," I said to him alone, closing my arms tighter around him. "I need you."
"You both need a shrink," Morelli said, his lips grazing my lot while I kissed Ranger.
I had to fight the urge to kick him myself. "Shut. Up."
I really don't care what happens to him now. He did after all handcuff me to my shower while I was naked when everybody and their cousin knew a serial rapist, Ramirez, was stalking me. I should do the world and me a favor and just shoot him right now, but that'd take time away from helping Ranger.
As I felt a few drops of rain start to fall and then quickly pick up speed, I used my body and my voice to move my Warrior away from Joe and towards the truck. Where the hell had Mother Nature been when I could've used a downpour? Morelli wouldn't have risked getting soaked even for the joy he gets from harassing me.
Ranger let me maneuver him into the vehicle, but I can tell he isn't completely with me. He's still my Ranger, but he's also ... gone. He responded to my voice or when I touched him, but it felt like he was somewhere I couldn't reach him. That scared me as much as it ticked me off. My Batman is always there for me, and having him right next to me, yet worlds away, is terrifying. I should be better at helping him like he continues to help/save me.
With one eye on my guy, I called another one who has gone above and beyond to keep me mostly sane while Ranger was away.
"Tank ... what do I do?" I said, even before he could ask what's wrong.
Tank isn't Ranger, but he's been his best friend long enough to not need any explanations.
"He's home?" He asked.
"Yes and no," I told him, saying Ranger's name quietly again, hoping to bring him out of whatever hellhole he's mentally stuck in and back to Trenton with me.
"What happened?"
"Ranger drove to my apartment, since he obviously couldn't know I've all but moved into his apartment while he's been gone, but Morelli was here waiting to ambush me and he wouldn't leave even though I told him to. When Ranger pulled into my lot, Joe grabbed my shirt to stop me from going to him ..."
"Fuck."
"I didn't know Joe was going to be camped out in my lot," I said defensively, "or I wouldn't have stopped. I was going to call you to get rid of him, but then Ranger was here ..."
I handled things badly in the past, but I realized that not only couldn't I stop loving Ranger, those feelings just got stronger the more I was with him, so Morelli became a pain in just Trenton's ass, not mine any longer. I didn't want any of Ranger's men, and especially his best friend, to think I was doing anything except worrying and waiting for Ranger to come back safely to me.
"Relax, Steph. I know. No one doubts your love for - or your loyalty to - the Boss. I couldn't help but notice that he gave you his tags, so Ranger doesn't doubt you either. How bad is the situation? More importantly, what's Ranger doing now?"
"Right now, he's not doing anything, though he seems really interested in the windshield and how the rain from a passing cloud is sliding down it."
"Fuck," he said again.
"Is now a good time to mention that Morelli is trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey next to my car? And he's probably only semi-conscious, and he may have crapped himself because he was looking down the barrel of a gun not being held by someone afraid to pull the trigger."
"He's alive?"
"Yeah, though I'm still really tempted to kill him for today alone."
"You didn't untie him?"
"Of course not! Getting Ranger away from Joe before he killed him was way more important to me. Morelli can rot in hell for all I care, but I don't want Ranger to suffer a second longer than he has to."
There was a slight pause. "Alright. I'll call the TPD and have someone get the asshole. If he respected what his badge represents, he would've followed protocol. He should know better than to intentionally piss off someone who's newly back."
"Wait ... there are rules about how to approach returning servicemen and women?" I asked, wondering why I never thought about that before.
Seeing Ranger's reaction, though, had me thinking of nothing but. My Military Man should definitely be given special treatment, not because there's something wrong with him, but because he deserves to be treated like the hero I've always thought of him as.
"Yes," Tank answered, "but the fucker let his perversion with you overrule his training. He'll pay for that."
"I'm glad to hear it, but what about Ranger?"
I was trying to keep my voice conversational so maybe it'd sink in that he's home and with me now, but I'm worried that I caused a situation that can't be fixed.
"Did he hurt you?" Tank asked, when I'd gone quiet.
"No! He wouldn't."
"I had to ask."
"I know, but I don't like that you did."
"Good," he told me. "That's the kind of faith in him he needs right now. Do you know your way around Deal?"
"The entire city?"
"Yes."
"Maybe not the whole place, but I know a few areas fairly well."
"Program 18 Marine Drive into the GPS and head there."
"What's in Deal?"
"One of Ranger's houses."
"You're kidding me?"
"I'm not. He had a house built on the ocean so he, I, and a few guys we both know who still serve, will have a place to decompress whenever we or they need to."
"So that's where he was staying during the Ramos thing?"
"Yes. You would've ended up there eventually. He purchased the lot even before he bought the building that would become Rangeman, but he only had a house built on the land after he met you. I've always believed you were his reason for it. It's the three-story, gray siding and stone, house at the end of the road on the edge of the water."
"Thanks, Tank. I don't know how to thank you for ... well ... everything."
"Just get him through this, and that's all the thanks I'll need."
"I will. I promise."
"Call me immediately if he gets to be more than you can handle or if you feel threatened by him."
"I can handle any part of him, but I will call if I need you."
"Remember what we talked about?"
"Yes. Turn off all the ringers on the phones so the sudden ringing won't startle him ... don't ever try to remove his gun from his body ... don't whisper if I do talk to someone ... do not sneak up on him whether he's awake or asleep."
"You've got the basics. Do you want me to take you both there? I can be at your apartment in six minutes."
I looked at Ranger, feeling extremely protective of him. "No. I think I can get through to him if I have time and a quiet place. Let me get us to Deal, and if I have to, I'll call you after I get him inside. I don't want to make him worse or put him in a position to accidentally go after you. He does appear to be responding slightly to my voice, which makes me feel a shitload better."
"Keep me informed."
"Of course. And thanks again."
"He's more than a friend, he's like a brother to me. I'd do anything for him ... even allow someone else to watch out for and protect him."
"Even if she's the cause?"
"Morelli did this. If he had a brain cell left, he'd have kept his fucking mouth shut and his hands off you. I'm thinking of letting him learn his lesson a little longer, or maybe I'll go one better and give him some one-on-one time with me, Brown, and Santos, before his cop buddies drag their asses to the scene."
"Punch him at least once for me. He can stay tied up in my lot until hell freezes over. I'm not coming back here," I said. "I'll call you as soon as I get him settled ... and can you ask Ella to keep an eye on Rex for me? He's happy in Ranger's kitchen, but he'll need fresh water in the morning, a top-off of his food dish, and probably a little bit of human interaction."
"I'll get him and bring him down to the control room until you're back. The fluffball will put in for some alone time just to get a break from the all the activity there."
He disconnected and I glanced at the silent Superhero beside me.
"Ranger?" I asked. "Can you talk to me? Can you tell me where you are, or what's going on in there? I need you back with me."
I tentatively touched his hand as I spoke. And while his expression and miles-away stare didn't change, his fingers curled tight around mine. I was so relieved, I almost cried. Who am I kidding? I cried like I did when I realized that the only thing I accomplished from jumping off my parents' garage roof as a kid was successfully breaking my arm. He has to be alright. I won't accept anything else. Ranger and I have a few things in common and one of the biggies is we're both resilient. And although we didn't say it out loud until the morning he left, we also decided long ago to never give up on each other. As long as I'm here for him, he'll come back to me.
I was scared shitless to break the only link I have to him, so I drove to the Beach Bat Cave with only one hand on the wheel, praying that I don't crash while silently thanking Tank again for telling me what to look for. If I hadn't known that Ranger's place is at the very end of the road, I never would've spotted it through the trees. The 'gray and stone home' he mentioned was really the color of natural slate, and it being built into the side of a hill overlooking the water, made it almost disappear into its surroundings ... which I'm sure was Ranger's intention.
He has to spot you long before you're even aware he's in the vicinity. The trees hid his home on land, and he'd see and hear you coming if you approached by water, so he's protected himself and his property without having to announce that he's a security specialist with extensive privacy concerns.
I squeezed his hand hoping for a reaction back. He didn't let go, but I also didn't get a deliberate response. As long as he isn't trying to push me away, or push me period in a worst case scenario like I've read about, I'm happy. I'd be even happier if he was calling me 'Babe' and kissing me senseless because he missed me as much as I missed him.
"I'm here for anything you need, good or bad," I assured him, as if he'd been aware of what was running around in my head.
He normally can read my mind, who's to say he's not now? I parked in the driveway behind the house and looked at our home away from home. It's a pretty place, as well as pretty functional. It has two stories from the ground up, but it also has one floor built into the mini-mountain supported by a stacked-rock foundation. This place won't be collapsing or sliding into the water any time soon. The white-spindled porches look surprisingly welcoming, though knowing Ranger, the spindles shoot grenades and I'd bet my last dollar that the sub-story also doubles as a disaster shelter or an impenetrable panic room.
"Okay, Batman. We're here," I said, pocketing the truck keys and turning to face him. "Can you come back to me? Or at least not think of me as the enemy if I try to move you out of the vehicle and into the house? Maybe I should've had Tank come with us. He's probably the only guy who can physically move you if you aren't able to move yourself."
He's still in zombie-mode, but I didn't sense the same disconnect I've felt in the past when I hurt him without realizing I had the power to.
"I'm going to go around to your side of the truck," I explained, keeping my voice calm and quiet so he wouldn't sense my fear. "Then I'm going to somehow get us into the house and we'll figure this out together."
Fuck ... how do I get us into the house? Tank told me where to go, but he didn't give me a cheat sheet to Bat Cave Security 101 that I'll no doubt need in order to accomplish that.
I'm not kidding, my phone buzzed at exactly that moment. I'd turned off the ringer after talking to Tank, but even the hum of the vibrate feature had Ranger flinching and his fists clenching.
"How did you know?" I asked Tank, without bothering with a 'Hello'.
"I was tracking your bag and realized my concern for Ranger had my brain fucked. The code is 12-14-28. There's a key for the back door hidden in the sprinkler head at the corner of the shed, four from its door."
"Paranoid, much?"
"Cautious is the word we use. How is he?"
"Still not moving with an almost vacant stare."
"You'll get through to him."
I'm having serious doubts about that. "How? Nothing I do seems to be working."
I could feel his hesitation.
"Tank? If there's something that can bring him back to me faster, I want to know what it is."
"I'm not comfortable talking about this."
"Who cares about comfort?" I said, frustrated beyond all reason at this point.
One comment from Bobby, warning me that even if Ranger came home soon, he may need some time alone before he feels ready, or that it's safe, to see me, had me doing my own 'research' on PTSD on nights I couldn't sleep, but reading about its effect on someone is veeerrry different than actually living it, even when some of the stuff I've read could apply to me, too.
Tank must have felt my rising panic because he gave in. "Fine. When do you feel the closest to him?"
My face instantly turned red. I know the answer to that one, but I don't want to put that image in Tank's head. Now I'm just as uncomfortable as he is talking.
"I can't think about that when he's like this," I said.
"If he didn't trust you, Steph, you wouldn't be alive right now. You know him better than you think."
"I hope so." I paused, questioning admitting this to him right. "I'm scared, Tank. Really, really, scared."
"He came straight to you, Steph. He didn't alert me that he's back. He didn't tell his family to meet him at the airport so his mom would be able to relax. He needed you."
"And he has me. Thanks. I think I just needed to hear that I'm enough."
"You've been all he needs since he met you. We were all just waiting for the day you'd finally understand that."
"I do now."
"Good. Bring him back to us."
"I'm going to do my damnedest, once I get him into the house ... if he'll come with me."
"He will."
That was all the assurance I got, and strangely enough, all I needed.
I stuffed my cell into my bag and got out of Ranger's rented vehicle. I hauled ass to get the hidden house key, unscrewing the top of it and feeling around a little until my fingers located a key shape, and I came back to Ranger I hope before he missed me.
"Okay, Big Guy, let's get you inside," I said into the open window before I approached the door. I slowly opened it and leaned in, telling him what I was doing the entire time. "I hope you're able to hear me and know that I'm just trying to help you."
I gently kissed the corner of his mouth and then I picked up his hand and guided him out of the truck and into a place he's familiar with. Any other time, the desire to explore my new surroundings, never mind an actual home Ranger had built, would be at the top of my to-do list, but the man himself came before the need to learn more about him.
His hand kept a death grip on mine as I talked him through all of my movements. My heart wanted to explode with love, protectiveness, and possessiveness, as he allowed me to lead him from the driveway, into the back room of the house, through the gray tile/black granite/mahogany-cabineted kitchen, up the carpeted-stairs, and down the hallway into the master bedroom.
"I'm not sure where you want to go, or what you want me to do, but the bedroom is usually your preferred destination with me, so it seems like a good place to start. Since you tend to sleep in your Batman birthday suit, I'm going to make you comfortable before I do the same."
He wasn't in uniform, not in a military one at least, probably not wanting to draw attention to what I know he does when he uses 'the wind' in the description of a job he's about to do. He had on the all-black uniform I'm very familiar with. His Rangeman t-shirt was peeled away before I bent to untie his boots and urge them and his socks off. His pants I hesitated on, but the hand gripping my shoulder gave me the confidence that I'm doing the right thing here.
Before I tackled his cargoes and the gun tucked back inside the waistband of them, I slipped my shirt over my head and pressed my skin to his much bigger, much warmer body. Just from not being able to completely block out Mary Lou and Valerie's 'mom' talk when all three of us are together, I know skin-to-skin contact helps babies bond with their mothers, so it isn't a giant leap for me to think my skin pressing into his would help connect us.
It seemed to work better and faster than anything else. Ranger's mouth suddenly sought mine and I sigh-sobbed into it. No matter what was standing in our way at what time, our desire for each other always blocked out everything else ...
A/N: The song Steph referred to is "Why (The Veterans Anthem)" by Soldier Hard, with the sentiments behind "Shame On Ya'll (remix)" also mixed in.
