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A/N: thank you all for such amazing reviews. I've been able to post so much today because my kids and I are all sick and they sleep when they're sick. They'll all be fine, it appears to be a cold.

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Warning for language in this chapter

Chapter Four

Rangers POV

In a million years I never would have expected Stephanie to call me for help. I'd heard about Morelli, and while my heart ached for her, I figured my actions eighteen months ago had closed the door on that friendship. I was glad they hadn't, because despite the bullshit I pulled, I really did need her. Whatever capacity she could give me, I needed it.

I probably should have acknowledged that long before now, maybe when I first realized it five years ago about ten seconds after meeting her. I was too stubborn and too prideful though. Now, though, I knew I'd be there for her however I could be. Anything she asked, I'd deliver.

Watching her across the table at Shorty's, she looked determined yet lost. I could tell she hadn't been sleeping well, and I knew she hadn't gone home to the house she shared with Morelli. I didn't blame her. If I'd walked in on her in the same way she'd found Morelli I wouldn't have been able to go back either.

Her emotions and thoughts sped across her face like reading words on a page. I could tell she had a secret, because there was always a little furrow on the left side of her brow when she was hiding something. I wanted to ask what it was, but that wasn't my place anymore. It never really had been. I'd been the man on the fringes, stealing kisses that didn't belong to me, and toying with her emotions semi unconsciously. I knew she didn't do casual sex, but that's all I gave her anyway. I gave her love, with strings attached.

Eighteen Months Earlier

I'd come back from my mission with my head finally screwed on straight. It had been eighteen months since I'd left, since I'd seen my Babe. The mission ended up being FUBAR'd almost from the start. My intel was so far off from reality it was laughable. I don't know what those intelligence gatherers were doing, but it seemed like they had their thumbs in their asses. First off, they dropped me in Mexico for an op that needed to be run in fucking Africa. In fucking Egypt. Which is no where near Mexico.

If they couldn't even get the geography on the correct continent, what else had they gotten wrong?

It turns out, everything.

The arms dealer I was supposed to be going into deep cover for? Human trafficker. Didn't even touch guns, preferred a whip. Preferred it even more on smooth, underage white flesh.

The credentials I'd need to get into the secure facility in Egypt to check in? Wrong.

The SAT phone I requested? Not with my bag of goodies.

Right off the bat, I had had to do everything the intelligence officers were supposed to do, just to run an op that wasn't the op I was supposed to be running.

Total bullshit.

I was glad I'd charged Uncle Sam fifteen million for this within the first four hours after landing in Mexico, and I doubled that price before I agreed to make my way where I was supposed to be.

But now, now I was back in Trenton and I figured I could just show up at Stephanie's apartment and let her know I finally had my head screwed on straight. I wasn't going on anymore missions for the government, my contract was up. My previous statements about being unable to do relationships were still true, and I still had enemies, but I figured so did she.

I broke into her apartment like I had so many times before and immediately noticed it was empty. Devoid of furniture, devoid of Stephanie. I had no clue what piece of shit she was driving now, so I hadn't bothered to check the parking lot. It was four am and I wasn't going to go bothering her parents if she was staying with them. I'd just get a report from Tank first thing after the morning meeting.

I slugged through my workout, through the meeting, and then cornered Tank in the conference room, using my key fob to turn off the cameras in there.

"What's the update on Stephanie? She's not in her apartment anymore?"

I don't know why I phrased it like a question, I knew she wasn't. She'd never been so desperate as to sell the furniture before, and her hamster, Rex, wasn't there.

"No, she's not. She's living with the cop now," Tank started, "they've been engaged about six months. She's got a new job, and they've got their wedding date set for next year. Summer. I got my save the date thing in the mail last week. It looks like you've gotten one, too, I left it on your desk with your other mail."

I stormed into my office, not believing what I was hearing. They'd never gotten that far in their relationship before. They'd been engaged, yeah, but Morelli always screwed it up. They'd never had to put money down on something before.

I found the envelope on my desk immediately.

"Mr. & Mrs. Francis Plum cordially invite you to save the date of June 27, 2015 to celebrate the nuptials of their daughter Stephanie Michelle Plum and Joseph Anthony Morelli."

Also in my envelope, along with the beautiful pale blue calligraphied notecard, was a letter folded up neat and small.

"Dear Ranger,

I hope this letter finds you well. If you're reading this, that means you know my big news- I finally agreed to marry Joe. And we're actually going through with it this time. Weird, right? But we're happy. Don't ever doubt that. I found a new job, with McCann's Private Investigative Services. I got my PI license a few months ago. Joe finally found the right way to ask me to give up bond enforcement, and he made a point I couldn't refute. I'm pretty good at my job. I make more than decent money. I also moved in with Morelli. We're slowly making his house ours.

Bob ran off a few weeks after you left. We haven't found him yet and at this point I don't think we're going to.

I wanted you to know, I'll always treasure what you were able to give me, both in terms of mentorship and friendship. I don't think what we had really went beyond that, except for the sexual chemistry.

I hope you're able to find your Joe someday. I hope you'll be able to be happy, with someone and not alone. No one should be alone. Be safe, Batman. Don't get shot, and I hope if you feel comfortable with it, you'll come to the wedding-as my friend.

Always, Stephanie."

I crumbled the letter in my fist, before thinking it through and smoothing it back out. I knew where she worked, I knew where she lived, and I was going to go get my girl back.

Present Day

I'd never gotten her back. As I sat in my office after our lunch at Shorty's, running the grainy image through facial rec, I considered the fact I probably never would. You don't show up after somebody's husband is stabbed violently to death, especially when you tried to derail their entire relationship from the start in one way or another, and get the girl. The world doesn't work that way, and quite honestly if it did, I'd think pretty poorly of Stephanie.

Just because I could, and because I knew she had a secret, I started a search on her while facial rec was running. I input "Stephanie Michelle Morelli, née Plum, DOB 10/12/1980, New Jersey" and waited for things to pop up. I wanted everything new, and I knew it was sneaky and underhanded but I wanted to make sure she wasn't in danger. At least, that's what I told myself.

Everyone always assumes I'm some master of self control but the reality is, people just don't know when I'm doing things like this. I can keep a secret, I can keep my body under control, but I was absolutely powerless against letting my mind roam free and my curiosity get the better of me. Where Stephanie Plum was concerned, I always let my curiosity get the better of me and I always came running.

Whether it was with cars, money, affection, food… I always gave to her when she was in need. It's why I didn't balk at running this search on her mystery man. It's why I was discreetly looking into Morelli's murder myself. It's why I met her for lunch even though I have a thousand other things I need to attend to today. None of them matter, when she asks me for help, when she needs something. I could let my business burn to the ground, and I'd still have everything I needed to get by if she was okay. I had money, and money can always be made.

Just then, the computer dinged. A dual result had shown up. I had the guys name, Alan Castnet, and I had Stephanie's new information. I started a search on Alan, a deep search, and started reading through everything that had changed in Stephanie's life starting three years ago. I'd never bothered after coming back from Egypt and fucking up so outrageously.

Other than two speeding tickets and getting her PI license, not much had changed on the legal front. She had her new name, but that was more of a civil thing. Joe got the speeding tickets wiped from her driving record, but they still showed up on a deep search as having occurred. There was new financial info, she had switched banks and been added to Morelli's accounts, had her name on the deed to his house. Her name was also on his car. They had a joint savings account with a balance of $98,764. Most of that looked like her income from her new job as a PI. She had a business license, and a business account which was also seriously plush. Blue Private Eye was the name of the business. It fit her.

She was on his pension, and his life insurance as a beneficiary. She would hold medical insurance through the PD for six months after his death. And there, just there, under her new medical insurance was her records.

I skimmed through those, before my eyes landed on an appointment the day Morelli died. An appointment at an OBGYN, and a record that listed her as confirmed…

Pregnant.

When tragedy strikes, it strikes hard.

I had not expected that.

Even more, I hadn't expected the triple blow to my heart- that she was carrying someone else's baby, and the part I really struggled with, that she was truly alone to do it, and the part that as a father myself would have brought me to my knees if I was standing, I felt… sympathy?... some emotion… for Morelli, because he would never get to meet his child and he would have been a fantastic father. And the chance to be that amazing father was ripped from him.

As a friend, I'd be there for Stephanie and her baby.

As a father, I'd help her for Morelli, because as much as he and I didn't get along, it is what he would have wanted. What I'd have wanted if the positions were reversed.

As a mercenary and security specialist, as somebody who found people for a living, I'd find the son of a bitch who murdered Joseph Morelli.

And I'd start with Alan Castnet.

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