This chapter is a lengthy mash-up of thoughts, concerns, and appreciation, that I've been having and feeling, especially over this past year. Mrs. Manoso's card I saw online, but changed slightly, same with the picture-demand story. Everyone familiar belongs to Janet. Mistakes are mine alone.
Chapter 4
Ranger POV
"Men like Gonzoloz and war dogs like L.B. ..." I started to say, but stopped as I pictured the pain in their eyes when I saw them last.
"L.B.?" She asked.
"An abbreviation for Little Bear. He's excellent at what he does."
"Of course he is," she said around a smile.
"I was called in to head a rescue mission. We got the men out, but not without injuries to two of my team."
"Shit. This Gonzoloz?"
"Yes. And L.B."
"Oh, no ... not the puppy!"
"Steph, he is so good at his job, he has multiple bounties on his head. He's not a 'puppy'. He's as much of a Soldier as I am."
"They want to kill a dog? That's disgusting."
"War usually is."
"I know. That's why I wanted to beg you not to go, while knowing exactly why you would and should."
"I couldn't not go. If there's a chance to save a life ..."
"You'll take it, I know. I also know you take every safety precaution available to you. If there was any way to keep your guys from getting hurt, you would have. You aren't to blame. If anyone should be shouldering the responsibility for what happened, it's the so-called 'leaders' or extremists making money and a name for themselves by hurting their own people ... and ours, or the assholes who were holding captive who you went there to save. We should all be losing sleep over what men like you and Gonzoloz have to go through, not just go on with life while this is happening to yours ... pretending that your problems aren't our collective one."
"It's not something anyone wants or has to think about unless they have someone they love in harm's way."
"That's no excuse."
I wanted to grin at her unwavering support of me, and of the men and women who go through what I do. "It's alright, Babe."
"No, it's not. Mary Lou thinks it's 'soooo sweet' the lengths you go trying to protect me, but as I was thinking about it one morning, everyone who enlists are essentially doing the same thing ... except for total strangers along with the people they love. And you all don't get much from us in return ... not even respect or a thank you in some cases like Morelli's or my mom's. My parents were the first ones in the Burg to sport yellow ribbons during the Iraq war, but they still treat you and the guys like crap even when you're basically who they claimed they were 'praying for'."
"We don't do what we do for the medals or the thank yous, Steph, so we don't put much thought into them not being given or acknowledged, especially when the 'appreciation' is spoken with no genuine feeling behind it."
"Well, I have enough feeling behind my words to take care of at least half the county."
I kissed the top of her head. "I sensed that."
"On one of the rare times my Grandpa Harry was home while I'd been hiding out at his and Grandma's house, he felt like talking a little about his WWII days. He patiently explained to a kid who still thought 'heroes' were only members of the Justice League, not fully understanding that the term applied to everyday guys like him. Anyway, he told me how people 'back in The States' had planted Victory Gardens in their backyards and in any available open space to boost morale and add to the country's food supply. Women - who were basically second-class citizens then - stepped in to take over jobs to keep the country and troops going. And how everybody rallied around the men while they were gone, and celebrated them even more after they came back. Even at my age, I could tell he was proud of how the country he was fighting to protect, came together and agreed with ration specific things, happy to have a way to support war efforts ... and to show their support for them period."
"It was a different time back then."
"It was. Now no one seems to give a shit about anyone or anything, let alone wars happening on a separate continent or the people sent and left fighting them. I know things weren't perfect for everyone back then, but when faced with a bigger threat ... everybody pitched in and went without for the good of the country. And now I'm seeing that it was also for them to feel like they were helping, even being so far away from the actual danger. I know I wanted to do something while you were gone, but was at a loss how I could help you since I'm not one of the four percent of our population who's active military now that it's all volunteer-based. And let me tell you ... the guys definitely seem to prefer that, despite some of the load being taken off you all if the draft was reinstated ..."
"You have more confidence in the people around you when you know they chose to be there and believe in the fight."
"I get that now, just going on one apprehension with Bobby instead of Lula. She wanted lunch so I ended up being abandoned and in need of a ride home. Bobby picked me up and proceeded to knock my FTA out minutes later. I've stuck with one of your guys ever since. I've had a lot of time to think, and I started to see not only how ineffective Lula is as a partner, but actually how dangerous having her as 'backup' really is."
"That's why I told my men before I left to assist you any way you'd let them."
"They've been great, but they aren't you. Now before I cry with how much I've missed you and how relieved I am that you're home, I'm going to get back to explaining why what you do is so impressive to a Burg girl like me. When a war or 'situation' breaks out these days, we don't have to give up squat, or be forced to think about anything not happening right in front of us, while you're shipped likely a world away and have to give up every comfort you're used to. So if I go by Grampa Harry's time to what ours is now, instead of rationing food, gas, and clothing, while guys like you are away, maybe now our part comes in when you all come home. Starting with understanding that you're going to be different and respect that and your boundaries, instead putting PTSD labels or mental 'Beware' signs on you. I get why you'd have readjustment issues as you're relearning what life outside of a war zone feels like. I mean ... how can you not come home changed? I was jumpy and had nightmares for weeks after shooting Cone, and that was only one person trying to kill me."
"I'm guessing when you weren't in Newark with my parents, you spent a considerable amount of time at Rangeman keeping the men company."
"More like the other way around. They should be nominated for Sainthood for putting up with me this past month as I moved more and more into your building. I was a total wreck, but I've learned a lot about what you guys have/had to go through, even after you're supposedly done getting shot at. Lester's issue is how much money the government spends to send you guys into battle, but the budget and benefits feel like they go 'poof' when it comes to taking care of you all once you're home. Since you're his friend, you already know this, but Lester told me his Uncle Ruiz fought in Vietnam, and Les is still pissed about how Vietnam Vets were - and are still being - treated ... like no one gives a crap, shit, or fuck, about how Vets suffer now, what they endured when they served, or what they've had to go through in the years in-between ... active duty guys, either, even though you're repeatedly being put in danger. I condensed it for him by acknowledging that you all are, and what you do is, taken for granted by us."
"I wouldn't include you in the majority, but he isn't exaggerating when it comes to watching your family or buddies being disrespected."
"What I felt pissed him off the most, was that everyone, members of his own family included, fixated on how different his Uncle was and behaved when he was able to come home, forgetting what a tough 'motherfucker' - Lester's endearment, not mine - he was to be a typical high school senior one minute, and in the blink of an eye he was a Marine seeing and fighting in actual Combat. That takes a whole other kind of mental toughness and physical strength to find yourself going from a school hallway, to boot camp, straight into a war zone ... and survive it. I can't even stay sane sitting in Sunday afternoon traffic, so I get what he means. None of you get the credit you deserve. Even Memorial Day and Veterans Day are viewed as just major shopping days and an excuse to blow a wad of cash on a new car or clothes. Your mom's disapproval on that one was extremely clear. She told me it's the family and friends of servicemen and women who are responsible for making sure you're appreciated and never forgotten, since you won't say how great, skilled, strong, and brave, you are yourself."
I tensed, but she just ran her fingertips across my skin to relax me as she kept speaking, ignoring my need to deflect her praise. To her, I can't be thanked, loved, or appreciated, enough ... and she's happy to take on the job if no one else is as qualified to handle it.
"Doctors go to school for years to prepare for life and death decisions, can schedule when to attempt to save a life, and they have a network of experts to consult in seconds if they're not sure what to do. You guys have a split second to decide whether someone's trying to kill you or your buddies, and it's a person-to-person thing. You don't just land and get handed a good guy/bad guy sheet. Lester said one man can be offering you tea as a thank you, and another could be trying to poison you with it."
"Santos doesn't share his experiences or family history with just anyone."
"I think it was purely a self-defense move. Your mom had just come over to bring me a picture of you and Julie that I'd mentioned I wish I had a copy of, and I was a bit 'emotional' when she left. He was trying to turn my 'I love you and Julie so much' tears into productive anger. Lester became a different guy when he was talking about what his Uncle and their family had to go through to get help for him. I believe his exact words were "WE are the country's defense against enemies, so taking care of us - during and after - our service, should be factored into defense spending for fuck's sake. And they shouldn't fuck Vets over via the VA, hoping they die or kill themselves before help is provided."
"He's been told to watch his mouth around you," I said, though I agreed with him.
Having lost his only brother to what turned into a lifelong health battle caused by Agent Orange use in Vietnam ... my father hadn't been quiet at the dinner table or at holiday gatherings when it came to how Veterans have as many battles to fight long after they return from war. Leaving my people to the VA's mercy ceased being an option once I was in a position to take care of them myself or through the connections I've made over the years.
"But he's fucking right," she said, placing a kiss to my chest. "I was actually worried for a second that if any of your team were hurt, they'd have to fight for the help they need, but then I remembered that you'd bankrupt yourself ten times over, and fight night and day for what they'd require, before you'd let anyone suffer."
"They're being treated by the best."
I made sure of it.
"See, I don't have the power, money, or contacts, to do that, so I have to help out in other ways ... like being a one woman support system ... listening whenever you or the guys feel like talking so you can put everything in your head somewhere else for a few minutes. I know how I feel when you just hug me and let me bitch about whatever ticked me off that day, so maybe just being there does the same for you. Though I'd like to think talking to me gives you a momentary break from shouldering the load all alone for doing what not many people can or would. I know you. You carry every hurt done to someone as if you're the one who caused it in the first place, but you did your job. You rescued those guys, prevented their deaths, and they'll get to go home to their families. Please ... don't beat yourself up anymore. I know you won't stop torturing yourself with 'I should'ves' and 'If onlys' because you're the kind of man who takes his responsibilities and duty seriously, but you've already done far more than anyone else could."
"If I would have been a millisecond faster ... Gonzoloz and L.B. would still have the bodies they left home with."
"Oh, God. Are they okay? I mean, I know they aren't okay ..."
"I know what you mean. They're alive and will survive. The hardest fight is deciding if they want to. I would've been here sooner, but I wanted to check on them myself. If I didn't know you were waiting for me, I would have stayed with Sosa and McCurry, two more of my men, and personally oversee their care until they're set to fly home, but I needed you and didn't want you worrying longer than you had to."
"I guess I can't complain about missing you for a few extra days, since you had the best reason to hang back. You're a good guy."
"I'm supposed to be the best."
"You're that, too."
"If I was, I would've reached out faster, and located the men sooner so they would've been spared a few days of additional abuse. And then everyone would be in a hell of a lot less pain right now. They may all be alive, but I still have their blood on my hands."
"Nice try, but what I see is that you saved multiple lives. You rescued at least two POWs, since you said 'got them out', you kept two of your own guys from being killed, and your entire team was alive and together when you left them to come home to me. That means that ... four people are alive right now because of you and your men. Not bad for a day's work. I like cats and respect firefighters, but even I can see how wrong it is that one firefighter gets a kitten down from a tree and he's on every news station for seven days straight. You save a handful of people, and not only aren't you being celebrated nationwide, you're left having flashbacks, nightmares, and are telling yourself you should've been better, faster, or psychic so you could've known ahead of time what was about to happen and prevent it."
"Steph ..."
"You're not God, Ranger. You're not solely responsible for everybody's life or death. You may have saved some and killed others, but everyone with you made a choice to be there in one way or another. No one would've been called in if those guys hadn't been kept prisoner. If the assholes who did the taking hadn't snatched them, they wouldn't have had to face you. If your team didn't believe they were needed, they wouldn't have been there, either. You took on a job I'm betting no one else could've gotten done, and you succeeded. I know you don't see this the same way I do, but to me ... you're a hero who did whatever you had to in order to save someone else. If I shot Morelli instead of just breaking his leg with the Buick, you'd say proud of you, Babe. So I'm saying it to you ... I'm so friggin' proud of you, Ranger."
I won't cry in front of her again, but her acceptance of me made me want to. "I don't deserve you, Steph."
"No, you deserve so much more, but you're stuck with just me. So Gonzoloz and L.B. are the reason you were pulling me off the bed and checking my leg?"
I went silent for a minute. Coming home this time was worse than the last, and not only because she was an eyewitness to it. I should've waited until it was safe to see her, but she always has me saying 'fuck you' to my standard operating procedures.
"I don't remember doing that," I finally answered. "Did I hurt you?"
"Nope. I was just thoroughly checked out and released. I heard thunder right after, that I suppose could sound like an explosion, which I'm guessing is how Gonzoloz and Little Bear were hurt."
"IED," I said, feeling her tense.
She understands just how easily it could've been me hospitalized right now.
It was easy to tell that particular thought upset her, but she tried not to dwell on it. "I was asleep, but I don't know if you managed to."
"I can almost always sleep if you're in bed with me."
She looked up at me. "Really? Usually I make people either too mad or too worried to sleep."
"There were nights like that, too."
"So Gonzoloz and L.B. are getting taken care of. What about the people you and your men rescue? Shit, I probably shouldn't have asked. It's okay if you don't want to say more."
I saw their battered faces, beaten bodies, and wounded minds, in my own ... and I hope like hell they're faring better than I am right now. Maybe I'm getting too old to do this shit ... or it could be that I now have something worth losing. I signed myself up and didn't think twice about sacrificing myself for my country or for the men I serve with, but hurting Stephanie isn't something I can purposely do. I need more time to work through this, and Steph needs a distraction so she can stop worrying about me.
"Where are you going?" She asked, as I got out of bed.
"I want to give you something that I had with me in-country."
I went to my discarded pants, feeling like the removal of them happened a lifetime ago, rather than just a few hours. The pain in my body suddenly felt magnified by a thousand. I ignored the discomfort and got back under the covers with her, praying this goes better than anything else has so far.
"I bought this a few days before I left and I purposely took it with me. It stayed in my vest when I was wearing it, and inside a pocket of my cammies when I wasn't. It was on my body the entire job. I used it to keep me extra vigilant and as added incentive to get home safely. If I kept my men alive, completed my mission, and remained uninjured ... I would then deserve the right to give it to you."
I opened my hand and she looked at the simple oval diamond that had a ring of small diamonds surrounding the large one sitting at attention on a thin diamond-lined band. The ring is unapologetically beautiful, just like the woman I spent weeks imagining wearing it. My plan worked too well, she stopped worrying about my responses to sudden noises and movements. She didn't touch the ring, she shoved me gently instead.
"Hey! You were supposed to keep my 'Heart Tag' in your vest. You promised."
"There was room, because I kept your tag on the chain with the ones containing my other vital info," I said, leaning over the side of the bed again.
I snagged my pants and pulled out the separate set of tags I'd made it home with. There's a reason I took them off before heading to her apartment. I didn't want her to see them, but she needs to know her gift was kept close. It's against the rules, but they've stopped applying to me.
"You've said you won't jinx a mission by wearing brand new tags for them, so please tell me this dent is a really, really, really old one," she said, running her thumb over the imperfection.
"You don't want an honest answer to that."
"On a scale of 1-10 ... how much do I not want to know the details?"
"You'd need a separate scale."
She shouldn't have to picture how a bullet from one of the guards put on our men, ricocheted, and hit a little too close to home as I was eliminating him. If it weren't for my body armor and those tags, she'd be crying in my mother's arms right now instead of just looking like she wants to. I did what I could to pound the metal back out, but the damage done to it is still easily seen.
"Shit, shit, shit, damn ... fuck!" She tightened the hand holding the three of them, and tried to take a 'Don't Panic' breath. "Sorry. I needed to get that out of my system. I know you are the most qualified Ranger there is, and your team wouldn't be yours if you didn't trust them, but I can't help thinking that these were on your chest. That's where most of the keep-you-alive organs are located. I specifically begged God and whoever else was listening to make sure NO bullets got near those and you'd handle the rest."
"It's possible that your words were heard, since I am alright."
"Yeah, because you had armor on. I'm not giving anyone except you, and the company that makes it, credit for that. Maybe in a year or three, I'll be able to make you laugh with a joke about this, but I'm fresh out of them at the moment."
"I wouldn't count on that. Whenever I close my eyes, I can still see you going over the side of that bridge and folded up inside the cabinet at Spiro's house. But we're not going to focus on that. I found you every time I lost you, and I'm here with you now. My men may have a long road to recovery ahead of them, but you're right ... we all made it out. Mike's daughter will have her daddy there when she's born."
"Gonzoloz's first name?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for saying he'll be okay before telling me he's going to be a daddy. I may never have thought of kids as an option until recently, but for those who are counting on having them, it'd be cruel for the Gonzoloz family to lose Mike before his daughter gets to meet her Daddy. I had trouble wording my 'Be safe. Come home soon' prayers, because I wanted you back with me safe and sound, but I didn't want anyone who was with you to get hurt, either."
"It was my job to make sure no one did."
"And you did it ..."
"I could've done a better one."
"You saved a professional-sniffing Soldier, Mike, and rescued two men being kept prisoner, what more could you have done? Wait ... before you say anything, let me ask it this way, what would have happened to Gonzoloz and Little Bear if you hadn't pulled him/them to safety, like you 'saved me' tonight?"
I was quiet. Mike would've lost more than his left foot. And L.B. would be gone, not just his leg. But if I share that, she'll give me credit I don't deserve.
"I can't order you to not hurt over not being God, but please try remember that you brought people home who may not have had a chance to see the people they love again. If you hadn't rescued me from the Delaware and found me before Con killed me, I wouldn't be here loving you. What's going through your mind hearing that is what the families of who you saved are feeling right now. Those guys may be injured and require extra help for a while, or forever, but you gave them a chance to live again."
The truth in her words had me feeling uncomfortable. If she had died ... but she wouldn't let my mind stay stuck there, either.
"You did all that anyone could," she stated.
"I'm not just anyone."
"You're not, but just about every superhero or mythical figure I've heard of, has a 'something' that can hurt them. I think yours is your superhuman need to protect everyone, which I'm guessing is what triggered today, first with Morelli and now with the storm. You couldn't prevent their suffering, so you suffer for them."
"There's that ... and more."
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" She offered.
"No."
"Do you need to?"
I went silent again. It probably would be better to talk it through beginning to end, but I already have to relive it day and night, she shouldn't have to do the same.
"I don't care what it is," she told me, "or what you had to do. You and what you need is what's important to me. I couldn't be over there with you, but I want to be here for you now."
"You're mistaken, Stephanie. You were right there beside me when I needed you." I held the ring out to her. "Would you be willing to promise to be there every single time I come back, even if it means more nightmares, flashbacks, that I could be the man injured next time ...?"
"Yes. I missed you before you even left the building, but I know you excel at what you do ... so while you were off saving people, I tried to keep busy by fixing me. I also got to know your family and the guys even better and became far more adept at telling people off. I like the idea of a Ranger-relocation program so I can keep you selfishly all to myself, but I understand the need you have to make the world a better/safer place. I want you even more because of it."
I picked up her left hand, but she immediately froze, which caused me to tense in response. She cursed herself out loud, worried that she was upsetting me. She couldn't talk fast enough to correct that.
"It's not what you think," she began.
"You sure?" I asked her. "Maybe you finally realize what you're in for if you do agree to marry me."
"I see exactly what I'd get being your wife," she was extremely quick to say, "and lucky girl that I am ... I'm looking forward to every second of it and you ... before and after we're married."
"So why did you freeze?"
"I want your ring, but ..."
"But, what, Steph? Explain."
"Don't make fun of me for this, but I haven't taken my heart ring off since I put it on the morning you left. At the risk of sounding nuts, even though you're home now, I'm worried that moving it at all will somehow jinx something. I came up with all kinds of rituals and superstitions while you were gone."
My mother said something similar to me the first time I returned home safely. "I can just move it to your right hand," I suggested.
"That'll work. And since you're the one doing it, maybe it uncrosses something."
"Babe."
But I did honor her request. She held out first her left hand so I could de-heart her ring finger and give mine to her all over again.
"Leave it to you ..." she was saying.
"Leave it to me ... what?" I asked.
"To find a diamond that can still reflect light in the dark."
I kissed the knuckles in front of and behind my ring. "Only the best for my Babe."
She wiggled the fingers of her right hand to get my attention. "Don't forget, the heart goes back on. I'm not taking any chances with you."
This time I did smile as I gave her good luck charm a new home.
"I saw that. Don't laugh at me. You may think I'm crazy, but on the bright side, I punch way better with my right hand, so having my cutout ring on it will make it easier to leave a deep, heart-shaped dent in Morelli's face ... which is what I would've done if you hadn't tied him up nice and neat for a PD delivery. I'd threatened to shoot him, and I'll admit to only you that I was dangerously close to doing it. He can say whatever he wants to about me, but you and the guys are off limits."
"I'm sorry I scared you."
"You did, but not for the reasons you think. I can handle a flamethrower-using psychopath, a stalking ex, and you being gone with no definite return-to-me date, but the thought of you being in pain right beside me and not being able to stop it ..."
"Reactions this severe don't happen as often anymore. You wouldn't have been exposed to it this time if I would've been smart instead of desperate to see you. I should've done what I usually do and stayed here for a few days after I left Mike's bedside before tracking you down, but ..."
"Don't ever apologize for needing me. I've been trying to explain why - and how much - I love you ... all of you. And as much as I hate that you had/have to go through this ... you coming straight to me, and me being here for you when you did, proves that I meant what I said about promising to be. And just for the record, I wouldn't have done what I did in here and in the shower for anyone except you. I needed you as much as you did me."
There aren't words to express what her belief in me means, so I just tightened my arms around her and buried my face in her still damp curls, remembering how thoroughly she loved and loves me.
My going silent had her doing the opposite. She was back to being upset, but for me ... not because of me. "This shouldn't happen at all. It should be a karma rule, if you're lucky enough to survive Hell once, you should never have to live through it again ... not still have to go through multiple layers of it once you're home. If you don't mind, when he's up to it ... I'd like to call Mike and his wife and let them know there's one more person sending them and their family some positive thoughts and a baby gift or two. I'd give Rex a fur-brother and offer to adopt Little Bear, but I'm sure he's already spoken for."
"He is. Mike doesn't know it yet, but I've already arranged for L.B. to remain with him when they're both back to being able to take care of each other."
"There's that 'good guy-thing' again." She flung her left arm across my stomach and looked at her engaged hand. "Can I ask you something?"
I tensed. There's still so much I need to tell her, about this past mission and what future ones would mean for us, but not right now. My reactions are still too unpredictable, but I didn't want to hurt her or make her feel like I'm shutting her out, so I answered anyway.
"Go ahead," I told her.
"What else do you keep in your vest when you're wearing one, besides first aid stuff and extra ammo?"
I just looked at her.
"What?" She asked, when I didn't say anything.
"I wasn't expecting that question."
"I really want to know whatever you feel okay telling me, but I'm not going to push you if it'll make things worse. Plus, I'm nosy and want to know what you think is important - and what keeps you going - out there."
"Out there?" I asked, feeling a hint of the usual amusement she brings to my life.
"I didn't know where you were, so it's what I said in-between you being 'in the wind', 'on a job', or 'working', when someone from the Burg asked me where you were. So the meaningful stuff in your vest ...?"
"You should know that since I met you, you are what's kept me going ... here and there."
"That's why you bought me a ring when I already had one?"
"Yes. Your heart ring, I appreciate, but mine is what you deserve. A formed piece of metal in the shape of a bullet filled with powder can keep me alive, but a different metal attached to a diamond can make me happy to be."
"I know what and who you are. Ranger is more than just a nickname. And you're more to me than just my friend, partner, and now my now husband-to-be."
"I understand that."
"I don't think you do. I used to think about me too often ... how am I going to pay my rent? Why do I keep going to Tasty Pastry when there's plenty of bakeries far from the Burg? Why don't I just take a cab instead of trying to keep a car alive? But these past few weeks ... all I could think about was you."
"I'm sorry," I told her.
"There's no reason to be. It's a really good change."
"How so?" I asked, surprised by more than just that comment.
"I had always been terrified to love you. I didn't trust myself or anyone else enough to ever consider marriage again. Basically, I was scared of committing to anything in my life. But by focusing my time on making myself the kind of person you'd be proud to claim, helped me become her. You made me better even when you weren't nearby, and I realized that I can do anything if I have you in my life. So this ring is more than just a promise to me for you."
"I love you, Babe."
"I fully get that now. You loved me long before I figured out how to love myself ... and love you the way you deserve in return. Now ... answer the question. You wore my dog tag with yours, kept my future ring on you, what else was in your vest ... a cross, a non-melty candy bar, the Batman figure I bought you? You know I would've sent you some good stuff if I knew where they were hiding you."
I was worried my sense of humor would be MIA for months to come, but although my laugh was low and rusty sounding ... it was still there. She's given me more than just the will to live, she continues to give me aspects of my life back that I thought I'd lost.
"You would've tried to mail yourself had you been given an address or even a country," I told her.
"You know me well. Sooo ...?"
"Aside from pictures of you, Julie, and my family, and the rosary beads Grandma Rosa insists I leave with, there's a card my mother gave me right before my first deployment. I took a pair of scissors to it so I could take her words with me. All these years later, I still keep it on me."
"What does it say? Knowing your Mom, it involved a direct order to come back to her or she'll do something about it. My mother would've gone the opposite route and given me something that said ... 'What did you go and get yourself into now?' or maybe ... 'This is what you get when you don't listen to me.'"
"As far as I'm concerned, the only thing your mother has done right, is have you ... just so I can have you now. Nothing else about her matters, least of all her opinions."
I let her go momentarily and reached for my cargoes again. I fished out my wallet and passed the card to her so she could read it.
"'I am not your friend, I am your parent,'" I listened to her say out loud. "'I will stalk you, flip out on you, lecture you, drive you insane, be your worst nightmare, and hunt you down when needed, because there's no one I love more than my children'." She wiped her eyes in a way she hoped I wouldn't see. "I really love that woman. Your Mama's scary, but in a very loving way."
"She likes you, too."
"She seems to. I lucked out there, too. Mary Lou and Val filled my head with a few of the mother-in-law horror stories they endured before proving that they were worthy of being a Kloughn or Stankovic wife."
"In my parents' eyes, there was nothing you had to prove. You kept me in Jersey and gave me something to talk to them about that wouldn't upset or worry them. They'd love you for that alone, but you continue to give them reasons to like you."
"I'm supposed to be making you feel better," she said, "not the other way around."
I tugged her closer to me. "Helping you helps me."
"I'm seeing how that works now. I feel loads better now that you're back to normal."
This is the one thing I've always been afraid of, first with Julie and then meeting Stephanie. "I'll never be 'normal', Steph."
"I already knew that one. Lula and I figured out a long time ago that you're actually a superhero. Why do you think I always call you Batman? He's not a normal guy, either, but he's pretty fucking awesome."
"Could be you call me that because you have an unusual sense of humor," I said, just to hear her reply.
She kissed my shoulder. "That is true, but I knew from the get-go that you surpassed 'normal' and entered the superhuman realm. You wouldn't be you if you didn't fight fiercely for what's right or hurt deeply for those you care about. What you did there or how you act here, doesn't change how much I love you or how in awe of you I still am. How could it?" She asked. "I know you said the wind had you rescuing people, not stopping an apocalypse, but my thinking remains unchanged from last week when I was staring my coffee cold again. As much as we miss you, guys like you have to be gone sometimes because what was being discussed far away from us, led to two Towers falling down here. That matured me real fast. It's not only me who needs you, but the entire world needs people like you, so I have to share."
"Seeing something happening in your own backyard makes it harder to ignore. You can pretend a threat doesn't exist until you hear the alarms and smell the smoke through your own windows."
"See ... that's what I'm trying to say. Knowing when you enlist, or agree to do a specific mission in your case, you'll likely be facing situations as horrific as that everyday takes a major pair ... of super-strengths. And every one of you should have someone supportive like me to come home to."
"I wish there was someone like you for every one of my men, but you aren't our reality. You'd be surprised how many men learn their women only got with them for the money."
I could feel her confusion. Her nipples raked my chest as she moved so she could speak face-to-face with me even though the room is still dark.
"What do you mean?" She asked. "What money?"
"If they can get their names on the paperwork ... spouses, parents, siblings, can collect death benefits. Some women purposely target the men who will likely to be put in the most danger, in hopes the men die in Combat, leading the 'family' to a pretty good payout."
"Please tell me you're kidding? Wait ... don't. That's too sick to joke about."
"I wouldn't joke about how I've seen my men suffer ... and not at the hands of our enemies, but due to the supposed 'loved ones' back home. One man I know signed his enlistment papers as soon as he graduated high school. He came home proud and excited to tell his family that his dream was coming true of serving in the military just as his deceased father had done. And instead of hearing congratulations or concerns for his safety, he discovered them huddled together around a monitor, systematically planning how they'll spend the money they'll get when he's KIA. Killed In Action," I explained.
Her mouth dropped open, which made my feelings for her grow exponentially. That she couldn't even comprehend doing that to someone made me love and trust her even more.
"Don't worry," I told her, "someone suggested putting a charity as the receiver, and reminded him that the best way to say 'fuck you' to them is to survive every battle and have a good life without them afterwards."
"I hope he's still sticking it to them, by living a happy life far away from them."
I couldn't speak for a minute. "That's a story for another time."
"I know what that means. Damn it! There's no end to the suffering for you, is there?"
"Doesn't feel like it most days."
"You owe me a night of nothing but happy or practical joke stories after this one. And I thought I had it bad with Dickie, and my mom wanting me to be married and miserable with a guy just as bad."
"'Dickie' deserves to have his removed."
"It should've fallen off immediately after polishing my table with Joyce of all skanks."
"There's still hope he'll contract a dick-eating bacteria from her. A buddy of mine, a Marine not a Ranger, got married right after boot camp and his bitch of a wife started cheating on him the second he was on a plane out. She continued to screw everything in sight until he came back. And even when he found out and divorced her ass, she's still trying to collect money for what he endured. She never once supported him, but now expects him and the Marine Corps to support her. I've offered him a solution or two to that problem, but he's a better man than I am."
Anger had her cheek feeling ten degrees hotter where she had just rested it on my chest. "I hope she was told to go fuck herself."
I smoothed out the frown line that I know would be pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Something along those lines was mentioned in response to another of her 'requests'."
"Good. How the hell could she even think about sex when he could've been hurt or getting shot at? I managed to keep breathing in and out correctly when you were gone, but getting naked with someone other than you to celebrate you being home, never would have crossed my mind." She physically shuddered at the thought. "I was feeling homicidal, not horny."
"If we're extremely lucky, we find women like you. But a lot of the time, while we're gone, divorces are being requested, engagements are called off via email or letter, or they hear that their women have moved on without them. Those are the 'thank yous' and 'welcome homes' we get. Some spouses will hang around for what they'll receive as a military widow, or what they can squeeze out for themselves during divorce proceedings once their spouse returns home."
"And you're worried about not being 'normal'?" She said. "If ripping the guts out of someone you claim to love is normal, I'd purposely choose to have non-stop flashbacks, nightmares, and lapses in time, every day of the week and be called 'abnormal. At least that shows you have an actual heart, that you hurt over things done to others, and have emotions that run so deep ... even your subconscious doesn't get a break from them. Unlike those douchebags. Dumping someone while they're trying to keep themselves, and everyone else, alive should be labeled manslaughter in every court in the country."
This time, the distraction was for my benefit. I can hear the screams clearly, like the men were in the room with us, and the smell of death suddenly blocked out the sweet scent of the woman plastered to me. So I talked about anything other than that.
"I'm almost afraid to share this one," I said, knowing she'll be able to keep my mind on her and off things I did and some things I didn't do fast enough.
"Spill. Not telling me a hinted-at story didn't work for the guys. And it definitely won't work for you. I haven't heard your voice in weeks, so I need to suck up as much of it as I can get while you feel like sharing."
"Alright, but I'll say 'calm down' ahead of time. A boot camp buddy of mine after returning from a particularly brutal fight, still covered in mud and blood, wanted to hear from his girl badly enough to forgo a shower until he checked to see if she'd sent him a letter or an email while he'd been away. She did. An email stating that she'd already slept with two people since he left and is planning on moving in with one of them ..."
"Okay, your warning makes sense now. I'm back to feeling homicidal."
"You know exactly what was going through our minds then."
"So what did you guys do about it? I know you're against hurting women, children, and cute members of the animal kingdom, so you couldn't do what I would've had I known where to find her."
"Wonder Woman until the end," I said, approval clear in my voice. "Not only did she break his heart through a screen instead of in person, she demanded he send back the picture he had taken with him of her."
"Freakin' bitch," Steph whisper/hissed. "What would he use for target practice if he didn't have her picture to aim at?"
"Our entire unit helped him with an alternative revenge. They donated every available photo they had of girlfriends, wives, or sisters. We had him write her back, saying he didn't remember which woman she was. And he 'ordered' her to take her photo out of the lineup and promptly send the rest back."
"I shouldn't find that funny, but she deserved to feel like crap. Did you know me at the time this happened?"
"Yes."
"Did a picture of me get added to the pool?"
"No. I wasn't giving you up, but Celia purposely sent one of herself to show her support."
"Well, if I was in your friend's place, I would've definitely sent one of you, since there's no topping you. You're hot as hell ... and smart and scary as hell, too. More importantly, you're also a genuinely good guy. When Lester told me that his Uncle was actually homeless for awhile, Tank spilled the beans that you own property across the country just so homeless Vets can have a place to live where their specific needs are understood."
"When Tank decides to talk ... it's too much."
"Not in this case. I swear my ears grew with wanting to hear as much as I could about you. Keep that in mind, when you leave, they talk and tell me all the things you won't take credit for."
"No one should have to continue to fight after they're home. I just do what I can to lessen the extent of their struggles. That's all."
"It's not all. You don't get how special offering them places to live and jobs in your organization, makes you. That's what I told Morelli ... that you're the type of person who started a company just so you could take care of your own if no one else will, and you'd never step on others just to make yourself appear bigger. A penis doesn't make you 'a man' in my book, wanting to protect and care for others does."
"It's important to take certain precautions, keeping the noise and triggers down and security up, while not making anyone feel like there's something wrong with them. And who better to offer them an apartment, a job, or help when they need it, than someone who is equally as damaged?"
"I just got you back, Ranger, don't make me smack you. There is nothing damaged about you. You may see things differently and respond to them more, but if you stop and really think about it ... it's actually a good thing. You're always alert so that helps with protecting and saving people for a living, which is the foundation of Rangeman. How you suffer when you have a flashback is horrible, and I wish you never have to have another one, but at least you know that who you lost will never be forgotten, they'll always be a part of you. And what you've gone through and have experienced, has made you dedicate your life to helping others who are going through the same things. What 'normal' person would know exactly why what you're offering means life or death to a certain percentage of our population? Bobby said there's a Rangeman version of a nationwide helpline where anyone 'in trouble' can call your control rooms and get an immediate pick-up and medical care, along with a place to stay while they receive it."
"A lot of men, and now women, come home and find civilian life harder to survive than actual Combat." I felt her eyes shift to look up at me, so I explained. "Picture what just happened to me ..."
"I prefer not to. I joked about you always being in control, but until you came back ... I didn't realize just how much I depend on you always being Mr. Calm, Cool, and Flirty, until you weren't able to be."
"So you see the problem we all face. What would've happened if I attacked someone in the middle of Giovichinni's for accidentally bumping into you, instead of Morelli in your lot?"
"I'd call Eddie or Juniak and explain the situation."
"Not everyone has that option, Steph. I'm trained to immediately take out a threat. It's my responsibility to control myself so I don't hurt anyone needlessly, but being triggered can make that next to impossible."
"That's what I was saying about us needing to know more about what you go through. Joe deserved being bound and I really should've gagged him. You could've put a bullet in him, but you didn't. He saw a chance to hurt you and he went for it. If anyone's to blame for what happened ... it's him. Or me for not immediately getting back in my car when I spotted him, instead of confronting him hoping to get him to go away for good this time."
"You have every right to go to your own apartment without being stalked and harassed. But what if I'd been driving home alone and thunder cracked suddenly above me? Or worse, if I'd been in the middle of an apprehension and a sound or smell made me reach for Mike again? All it takes is one second to find yourself dead. I couldn't stop what I was doing ..."
"You did, though, or Morelli would be in the morgue right now. Shit, remind me to call Tank to check on that one."
"It's not something to take lightly, Steph."
"I'm not. I get what you're saying. You think of yourself as a ticking time bomb, a danger to the public, but I only see a man who has survived a massive ordeal and needs plenty of peace, quiet, and personal space, to bring yourself back from it. Should I be apologizing for invading your space pretty thoroughly?"
"No."
"I was hoping you'd say that. I understand this a whole hell of a lot better than I did even a day ago."
"Consider yourself lucky that all you saw was me tying the asshole up. One of my men made it back home, but was left suffering from severe PTSD, among other issues that Combat and a recovery mission exasperated. He ended up killing himself in a 'One, Two, Fuck You' move minutes after purposely seeking, and then being turned away from, help. Another danger of being 'home', having an untrained 'professional' fumble her way through a crisis she had no real experience or business dealing with, paired with an unknowing/unthinking civilian, which made a volatile situation turn deadly. Words can kill just as effectively as any bullet."
"Jesus Christ! That's horrible."
"But true."
"Not in our case. I'm warning you now, if you leave again I may try handcuffing myself to you or hiding in your pack so I can be right there to make sure you're okay."
"I'm afraid you wouldn't be cleared to travel where they send me, Babe."
"All the more reason I should tag along."
"I love you."
"You won't when you realize how much this separation changed me as well," she tried to warn me.
"If you can accept me the way I am, there's nothing you can do to make me let you go."
"I not only accept, respect, and love, who you are ... I'm happy to take you anyway I get you. And I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life learning everything I can about you, and what you've done that I still don't know about yet."
She sounded so adamant, my arms immediately came around her. "Like me at nineteen, you don't know exactly what you're signing yourself up for, but I'm grateful that you want to."