Every familiar character or scene belongs to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine. Warnings for a little bedroom/bathroom 'physical' therapy.

Chapter 3

Ranger/then Steph's POV

Coming home to find Morelli near Stephanie wasn't safe for anyone under normal circumstances, but when I saw his hand yanking her tags and her body backwards, my mind left Trenton and went straight back to Hell. The situation involved different people, yet I saw my own hand pulling Gonzoloz back towards me by his tags and the collar of his uniform. His and L.B.'s bodies were once again losing too much blood and half of it was covering Sosa, McCurry, and I, as we all fought to save them while keeping each other alive. The distinct metallic scent was clogging my nose and I saw red everywhere I looked.

The scene changed before I could stop it and my M4 was spraying more blood, bone, and brain matter, across the sand and stone. In my line of work, an eye for an eye goes one step further. It's their blood for any of mine that's spilled. You never get used to the sight, sounds, and smell, of someone dying, you just learn to block it out faster ... until you can't anymore.

Rescuing two Soldiers should be something to be proud of, but the images of their tortured bodies, and that specific look we all wear after experiencing combat, the one I see reflected back at me in a glass of wine or in the bathroom mirror at night when my life slows down and I have too much time to think, had me recalling the worst the world has to offer and the part I played in the destruction. I actively try not to regret any part of my life, but what I've seen and done takes its toll.

I wasn't aware of time, of location, or much else, but somehow I knew Stephanie was with me and I trust our connection as much as I trust the men I've gone into battle with. Seeing her in danger shot me right back into the same nightmare I just returned from. An innocent being harmed at the hands of someone evil, I can't stomach and will never tolerate. Steph gave me a reason to keep going, and anyone who tries to fuck with that - or her - would pay.

I heard her voice but not the words and I felt her all around me, yet I wasn't able to fight my way out of my mission and return wholly to her. Mental health professionals will say seeing one dead body over the course of your life is traumatic, but there's no measuring the trauma caused by seeing dozens of them at one time and knowing you're the man who made them that way. That's not even factoring in having to watch your own buddies get blown up or shot up only inches away from you so you not only mourn them, you have to relive the last moments of their lives for the rest of yours.

I didn't feel much of anything and couldn't get beyond the blood, agony-filled screams, and the images I know have already been added to the pile of shit I'll never forget, until the life-changer she is ... Steph's voice, touch, and the feel of her body, finally penetrated.

I grabbed onto the only lifeline I've had. My mouth slammed down hard on hers as I fought to return to the present and to sanity ... which years back became tied to her. She's warm, sweet, and more importantly alive. I need it confirmed that I deserved to be spared one more time just so I could come back home and love her. The force behind those feelings went into the kiss and she didn't shy away from it or me. Before I left, Steph said she will always be here for me ... it's finally sinking in that she meant it and isn't going anywhere.

"God ... I love you so frickin' much," she told me.

This time I heard as well as felt it. I wanted to be able to tell her everything going on inside me, but like every other time I've come home from a mission ... I need to see and touch her. Talk would come later. She represents everything good in my life that justifies every bad thing I've had to do in it. In the past, I had to settle for just watching her sleep or talking to her for a few minutes before I headed home to an empty apartment that stayed that way until Tank or my parents came to check on me. But now I have the right to hold her, kiss her, and not stop there.

So I didn't. I gripped her head in one hand and curled my arm hard around her waist, not letting up on the kiss. If I had a clear thought beyond how good she felt and tasted, I'd be concerned for her safety. Some assholes we know refer to her as reckless, but I've always seen her as fearless. Tonight is no different. As much as I'm worried about scaring her all over again, she couldn't get close enough to me.

With a slight jump she wrapped her legs around my waist and that was all the encouragement I needed in order to take her down to the bed. I broke our kiss to get some oxygen into my lungs, but I went right back to her mouth. Nothing mattered except getting inside her as quickly as I could so I don't have to think about or see anything but her. I jerked off her sneakers and went to work on her jeans.

She wasn't a passive partner. She unhooked and removed her bra and slid her arms under mine to plaster herself to me. She rubbed herself against the muscles of my chest, using the friction from my skin and her tags to get relief only my body can give her. She wiggled out of her thong while I got my pants open. As hard as it is to believe, when I pushed my way into her, she felt even better than I remember. The memory of this moment took the place of a bad one. My skin felt like it caught fire as I set a pounding rhythm that should've been slower and much more in control for her benefit. Beads of sweat formed at my temples and clung to my skin until our combined movements had them falling occasionally onto her breasts.

I licked them off in-between sucking her nipples and squeezing and flicking the spot above where we're joined to make her lose it before I do. Which will be in another second as I moved my hips faster and tried to bury myself and all the pain I came home with. Her spasm and the noises she couldn't hold back from me, triggered my own groan. Not that it sounded like a groan to me, my ears heard a sound more like the guttural growl from a wounded but still fighting animal. Neither of us wanted to leave the other. I let myself fall on top of her and all of her limbs caught me and wrapped me in the type of security you can't train for.

"I missed you so much," she whispered against my cheek.

"Believe me, Babe, that feeling is entirely mutual. There's no way to top how much I've missed you."

She laughed, but a sob was mixed into it. "Sorry, you won't win this one. I was tempted to ask Tank to send me wherever he thinks you are in case you wanted some additional backup or a cheerleader to boost morale."

"Have you been talking to my mother?"

"Everyday, but that's beside the point. How are you?"

"Better now."

Her body stretched languidly beneath me. "I can tell."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Nope. Did I hurt you?"

"You were gentle with me, Babe."

"Damn it. I was hoping I rocked your world enough to bring you back to me."

"You did," I said, kissing her again.

"Things didn't go exactly how I'd been fantasizing," she admitted, after a few beats of silence.

I went to disengage our bodies for this conversation, but her legs hooked around my thighs and she wouldn't let me go.

"Don't. I need to know you're actually home/home."

I didn't argue, I needed her for the same reason. I slid my body just enough so I could put my head on the pillow beside hers. Her lips drew back as my dick rubbed her still swollen flesh as I altered my position.

"I made it back to you, Steph, just like I promised."

"You were physically here with me, but mentally you were in another world. Do you remember hog-tying Morelli?"

"No, but now I wish I did." I didn't want to ask her this, but I know I have to. "Is he dead?"

"Last week, I would've thought you were kidding just to make me feel better, but you're actually asking a serious question, aren't you?" She asked me. I hesitated just long enough for her to have her answer. "He's humiliated, which he deserves and a lot more, but he's still alive. If Tank let him live. He was as pissed at the jerk as I was. I'm happy Joe got a taste of what public humiliation feels like, but I'm not sure I'm happy about him being able to still breathe. If he would have for once listened to me, he would've been gone before you arrived ... and we could've had a homecoming that would've registered on the Richter Scale. Not that it didn't turn out pretty good in the end. Can you tell me what happened? Was it the kind of flashback you and Tank warned me could happen with you two and the guys?"

I went quiet again. I despise not being in control ... that she had to witness it, I hate even more. "Yes."

"I'm here to listen if you need or want to talk. If not ... I'll just hold you so you can sleep. You look tired ... and not just in an 'I'm exhausted' way."

"I feel both," I said. "Exhausted and tired."

I was worried about my body restricting her breathing so she let me move then so she'd be more comfortable, but she immediately turned to cuddle herself into me.

"Go to sleep, then," she said, her lips brushing my chest. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'm already thinking we should stay here indefinitely, so nothing bad can touch you again. Tank knows where we are, though."

"Even when I don't call him ... he knows I'm home."

"I was really freaked out and needed him to tell me what to do. Asking the guys questions and reading books and doing internet searches on the subject, can only get you so far. If I thought having no contact with you when you were away was unbearable, not being able to reach you when you're right beside me was about a billion times worse."

"I'm beside you now."

"You are. You know I'm not even remotely a religious person, but I've never thanked God harder for anything in my life."

"There are no Atheists in foxholes, Steph," I told her.

We all need something to believe in when your life is about to go to Hell and you're worried your soul might be joining it.

"I can tell you I wasn't an Atheist in Trenton when someone I love could actually be in a foxhole somewhere."

She kissed me and then allowed me to get up so I could clean us up a little before she fell asleep. As soon as I was lying on my back again, she crawled on top of me ... to keep me where she could find me, I'd guess. My arms went around her for a similar reason. The sound of my heart beating under her ear provided enough assurance that I'm real and home, and that had her sliding slowly into sleep. Once I was sure she was finally resting, I allowed myself to attempt the same.

XOXOXOXOX

Ranger's first night home was emotionally exhausting for me, but physically as well as psychologically brutal for him. One minute I was dreaming about the two of us making out on the beach of a deserted island, a second later I was starting to wake up as I heard Ranger mumbling something in a language I'd only heard on World News segments, which I had to immediately stop watching because I couldn't sleep or eat after hearing of military involvement anywhere in the world. I had no clue what part of the globe to focus on, so I couldn't relax at all. I stayed stuck on hyper-worried from the moment the door closed behind him. Even Ella hadn't been able to get a smile out of me for weeks.

While my brain was still trying to process the sudden shift between asleep and awake, Ranger suddenly shouted 'Freeze!' in a tone so desperate to be heard, every hair I have stood on end. Before I knew what was happening, I was pulled backwards by the nape of my neck, urgently not painfully, but it was clear that I need to be moving with him. He dragged me across the bed and onto the floor with him. His big body was shaking with what I hope is only adrenaline as he became an armed human shield between me and a threat only he can see. With one hand, he started checking my naked body for injuries, paying particular attention to my left leg.

A crack of thunder overhead explained this for me. I hear thunder and possibly jump the first time if I'm not expecting it, but then I just think 'Shit, did I remember to put my windows up in my car?' Ranger hears the same sound and he believes he's being shot at, bombed, or something even worse that he hasn't been able to talk about yet.

"It's okay," I said in the most soothing voice I could manage when my heart is trying to burst out of my chest for a number of reasons ... love and fear for him topping the list.

I didn't make any sudden moves or touch him beyond where I was already. This wasn't just him just him fighting his inner-self like before. I've gone after skips with him and I know how he reacts when he thinks I'm in danger, and right now he's actively agitated. His body language is screaming 'under attack!' and I'm not going to do anything to make him. He'd kill himself before he hurts me, and I want to return the favor by not spooking him.

"Ranger ... it's okay. It's only a storm. The thunder just set off a car alarm nearby. You're alright," I continued. "You're in your Deal house with me. I swear, I won't let anyone hurt you."

He did pull away from me this time when he 'came to' and it fully sank in that he's with me here instead of God knows where with who knows who. He released me as abruptly as he grabbed me. And without a word, he double-timed it with his gun to the bathroom. I heard the shower go on and I thought maybe he just needs a few minutes to regroup. This has to be excruciating for him, not being able to predict what's going to trigger him and when. What was truly terrifying, and also what made me feel like I've just been gutshot, were the tears I saw running down his face before he turned away ... that no sound accompanied them had me hurting for him even more.

His usual shower takes a grand total of six minutes if I'm not in it with him, so when I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw that I'd been sitting sheet-wrapped and huddled in the middle of his bed for twelve minutes, I got worried all over again. The sheet and I went to investigate.

"Ranger?" I said to the clear shower door.

Not having a colorful shower curtain to block my body from anyone I didn't invite to look at it, is going to take some getting used to, but like with this house's placement and design, it's clear that no one is allowed to sneak up on him, even in his own home ... which is why I called out to him first.

He didn't answer me. He was too busy trying to loofah his way through every inch of skin on his body. I can already see that he's made himself bleed in a couple spots as he attempted to rid himself of a feeling he can't shake, or clean off something that was on him but now is no longer there. I don't know how a lethal man with such an aggressive body, could look vulnerable ... but maybe he only looks vulnerable to me because I know him. I have a feeling if Tank were here instead of me, he'd be dealing with a very different Ranger. I want to kick my own ass for not being there every time the wind returned him to Trenton. It killed me to think he was going through episodes like these all alone when I could've been there to protect him ... even from himself if necessary.

Well, he isn't alone anymore. If he needs help, I'm the woman who welcomes the job. Ranger wasn't exactly 'gone' this time, and he didn't appear to want to hurt anyone except himself, so I dropped the sheet and got into the shower to stop him from doing that. I briefly wondered why he needed a streamlined shower caddy, and a soap-holder that had a door like the butter compartment in a fridge, but I now understand the extent war changes you. Even when taking a shower, he doesn't feel safe without having a weapon inches from his hand the entire time. I hurt for him and the guys all over again, knowing that they've had to live like this ... always remembering and always on guard.

He knew I was there, but when I tried to pry the loofah-thing out of his hand, he didn't give it up easily and I could see him draw further into himself. He didn't leave or shove me out of shower, though, and I took that to mean he wants me here, but he doesn't know what to ask me for. Not only do I love him and know in my bones that he feels the same way back, I already miss how connected I feel to him when he's in or wrapped around me. This isn't him using my body to feel better ... this is me loving him through a difficult time with it. That's what I'm telling myself anyway so I don't feel guilty for doing something that has already been proven to work.

I pressed my front to his back and I picked up his shower gel as a handy excuse for touching him if I found myself needing one. With him, it seems the fastest way to get his memories to release him is by talking to and touching him... like his mind can't feel good and bad at the same time, one has to overpower the other. Only getting him back a few hours ago, I need plenty of physical contact myself.

I didn't want to risk hurting him further so I used only my hands and started sliding them across the undamaged sections of skin while he stood statue-still working through his own emotions. If I didn't already know my guys feel everything a hundred times more than everyone else, Ranger's return would've shown me how deep their emotions run and how misunderstood men like them really are. To appear unemotional to the untrained eye is how their bodies learned to defend them against being hurt further.

Ranger had been semi-hard when I invited myself into his shower, but he's fully saluting now as I rinsed his body with my cupped hands. When I got to that part of him, I gave up pretending to wash him and concentrated on taking away his pain any way I'm able to, and hopefully in the process ... get his mind off whatever thoughts he was trying to escape, or scrub off, by coming in here.

I can tell he's trying to keep still and not let go again. His control is legendary and as much as I respect that about him, it's hurting more than helping him right now. He may have just come back from a mission, but I'm on one now. I've learned exactly what he responds to the fastest and how to push his desire for me to the limits ... and then past it. I scooted between him and the wall housing the faucets, got on my knees, and took as much of him as I could into my mouth. I sucked as my tongue stroked that spot he likes. I used my fingers to caress, squeeze, and rub, every sensitive area my mouth, lips, and tongue, weren't already busy seducing.

"Stephanie ..." he said, the strain in his voice reverberating off the walls of the tiled shower.

I shivered from the sound alone. My cheeks hollowed as I applied more suction. Him being able to utter only my name is good, but we aren't there yet. I need a groan and the flashing of his teeth to know he's gone from me, but in the best way possible.

It happened faster than I thought, considering what we'd done only two hours ago, but mouth-to-South brought Batman back from the brink again. I pressed a kiss to the sexiest innie belly button created, then I continued up his body, placing kisses to the center of his chest, collarbones, throat, and the underside of his jaw, before I felt ready to meet his eyes again. I'm a little scared of what I might see. It's possible that he's still trapped someplace I'll never know, or he could believe that I'm taking advantage of this situation and angry that I'm seeing a side of him that he's been a master of hiding from me until now. What he's been through has changed his life forever, but he hasn't let that define who he is.

So when he said ..."Thank you," with more feeling than I've ever heard someone put into two words, I reached a hand out to the wall to steady myself. I hadn't expected that. It took me a full minute to figure out how to respond, but it felt right as I started to say it out loud.

"I can't jump off a bridge, find you underwater, and pull you safely back to shore, though I would be right there trying to save you if I ever see you in over your head," I told him. "I can't pull a gun on a little old lady and drag her out of bed and to her office in the middle of the night to get the address where you're being held. And I couldn't stop whatever just did this to you, but I swear I will always be here for you and I'll do what I can to help you forget, feel better, and be my Batman again ... at least for a few minutes. It's not much, but I want you to know that I'll never not be here for you, and I'll be waiting for you when or however you come back to me. You aren't going to be left alone with your thoughts or memories anymore, unless you ask me to go away. And even then, you'll have to fight me to get me to leave before that'll happen."

"I've barely had time to grasp that you're mine, Babe, I'd cut my tongue out with my own knife before I'd ever tell you to go away. You've done more for me and my sanity than anybody else has ... living or dead."

"Don't tell Tank that. He's not happy that we're here and he's still Trenton, but he said you needed me. He'd do anything to get his friend back, even put his trust and faith in me to make that happen."

He turned off the water as I scanned the bruises, cuts, and burns, marring his just-about flawless skin. He looks exactly how I picture a Warrior should ... and I have no doubt he fought like one. Without the guys coming right out and saying it, the way I can serve my country and support my particular troops, is to bridge the gap between the respected and decorated Army Ranger who left to do a job ... and the zen-like, slightly playful Ranger I'm used to.

I must be doing okay because he's now back in 'Take Care Of Stephanie-mode'. He wrapped me in a towel, and hand-dried my hair a little before I could even attempt to make him comfortable. Being with Ranger is easy, aside from this past month without him ... I'd even say loving him has been completely painless, but I hadn't thought that getting him to let me help take care of him would be a challenge. I was sure I was losing my chance to pay him back for all the times he's come to my rescue, but he surprised me again by taking his shower hardware and me back to bed. He yanked my towel away before gesturing for me to slide in under the blanket I'd thankfully flung back onto the bed after the thunder-confusion. He slid in next to me and pulled me against him.

I didn't know if he wanted us to try to go back to sleep without discussing what just happened, or if he'd prefer to lie quietly and stare at the ceiling just because we can do that together now. But he gradually started to talk to me in the pitch-blackness of the bedroom that was only lit by occasional flashes of lightning.

"You don't know what it's like, Steph ..." he began, but stopped after he said my name.

"I'll never know what it's like to be you, or survive what you've been through, but I've been trying to figure out how I can still be here for you despite that. You don't have to tell me everything, or anything at all if it hurts too much, but if you want ... you can help me understand what you don't think anyone can. I'm willing to try if you are. No matter what you say or don't say, I'm not leaving or leaving you. I doubt you've decided to give up that part of your life even after this job, so I'm hoping we can work together to mush together our two worlds."

His body tensed and I mentally swore at myself for stepping in it again. "Mush together our worlds?" He asked.

"Yeah. We've had very different experiences in life, and I want that to work in our favor ... rather than against us in the future."

"Babe."

"Am I wrong?"

"No. You have a unique way of seeing things, but it's never wrong."

"Can I ask you something?"

He hesitated, but then he kissed the top of my head. "Go ahead."

"Was the job you just finished what caused this? Or was it a combination of everything?"

With a touch as light as I could use, I ran my fingers over where I remember seeing bruises and across his scratches and all the partially healed cuts and burns along his torso, arms and legs, that I was afraid were caused by him being too close to something that explodes. While he decided how - or if - he'll answer me, I tried using a more intimate version of Braille to read his body and attempt to uncover his story before he began to tell it.