All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.
Chapter 6
Ranger's POV
I lost it. And there's no way to make that bitter pill less painful to swallow. That on its own will be agonizing to live with, but there is still something worse. Although she's trying hard not to let me see how upset I've made her, my t-shirt can't lie. Stephanie's crying is soaking it ... and it's my own fucking fault. I can't keep my shit together anymore. That's twice in twenty-four hours I've checked out and scared the woman who has become my sole connection to life, love, and sanity. I need her too much to have fucked up like this.
If she leaves me, seeking the safety of Trenton nowhere near me, I'll lose it again and likely not recover. She kept seven people alive, and there's no way of repaying her for that, and for what she's done separately for me far beyond that. Facing my men and apologizing for injuring and almost killing them will be easier than asking her forgiveness ... and asking her to still love me despite what she's had to witness recently.
I looked down at her bent head as I brought my hands up to cup her face and dry her eyes, but that's when I saw blood on my hands again ... Mike's, Little Bear's ... and everyone - and every body - before and now after them. I froze for three seconds before dropping my hands and shooting out of the kitchen to the shower to scrub the feel and scent of war off me again. I can't touch all that's good in my world when I'm coated in the worst it has to offer. I swore to myself that I'd never bring that kind of horror home to her, but she was on the front lines just standing in the kitchen here.
"Don't go," I heard Steph say, from what sounded like a distance away.
I don't know if it was said to me or the men, but my body moved on its own. I have to get the blood the fuck off me. It never goes away ... the feeling of being smothered in gore and regret.
I made it to the bathroom and jerked my shirt over my head, flinging it inside out near the sink. Not only did Stephanie not leave tire tracks getting away from the house and me, she ran into the bathroom right behind me, closing the door so we would be alone.
She spoke quietly from across the room, giving me a heads-up that she's here so I wouldn't jump or swing at her if I weren't aware that she'd followed me. She reached carefully out to me. Her expression said she's hoping I don't flinch or pull away from her.
"Let me do that," she said in a calm voice, putting her hands on mine and tugging them off the waistband I'd been in the process of undoing.
Either she ran up here fast enough to dry the tears that had been pouring out of her, or she had been giving herself a different talking to than I was giving myself. Although her eyes are still red and puffy, I don't see any moisture on her face. The woman who fearlessly approached me now isn't afraid of - or disgusted by - me. Her only reason for hesitating is she's figuring out how to help me this time.
Having formulated a plan of attack, she got my boots off, urging me to hold onto her shoulders as she did. She isn't concerned about me falling, she quickly learned that physical contact with her is keeping me as grounded as anything could. Since my shirt is already gone, she unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pushing them down my legs. Her actions are so methodical, they're calming just to watch. The storm tearing my mind apart quieted again. I have to be okay just so she can be.
She got the water running and tugged me towards the stall and nudged me under the spray, only to remember after the fact that her clothes are still on her body.
"Shit," she said distractedly, and then she started pulling everything off in as much of a hurry as I'd been when I first came in here.
Getting me naked wasn't her goal, cleansing my body and soul again was. Her hands filled with shower gel and she began washing the blood, embarrassment, and memories, off of me. She took her time and used great care in cleaning in-between every one of my fingers, bravely not grimacing at the torn flesh around my knuckles. She isn't about to leave a trace of what transpired downstairs on me. She can't heal the cuts, make the bruises disappear, or stop the knowledge that I attacked my men from attacking me for the rest of my life, but what she can make better, she will.
Once the water running off me was clear rather than a deluded pink, her hands slid up my forearms, gentle so she wouldn't reinjure the skin I'd rubbed raw during my last shower before she'd stepped in. No matter how many I take, the amount of shower gel I use, how long I stay in them, or scour my skin during them, I never leave the shower feeling clean. Stephanie loves the way my shower gel smells, but I can always detect the unforgettable combination of blood, sweat, dirt, and death, lurking under the citrus scent.
My chest and legs got the same treatment despite the wounds there being just half-healed gouges, cuts, and discolorations. She didn't have to waste time on those, but she's intensely focused on my body and no part of me is escaping her attention even if it's not as damaged as the rest of me. One thing I've always admired about Stephanie, she's so thorough ... she'll never leave a case or a person until they are completely figured out. She may not know all the gory details of my mission, but she's determined to wipe away all the after effects of it nonetheless.
I thought I was being selfish for wanting her when I knew this was a possibility, but her devotion to me and my men has me believing otherwise. I've never wanted her exposed to this side of me, yet I now know she can handle it ... and handle me better than I can.
This time around, she didn't wash my hair. Instead, she captured my face in her hands when the rest of me was rinsed to her liking, and she sealed her mouth to mine. If she hadn't already done her best to scrub the shit off my soul, this kiss alone would have healed more than a few of my war wounds. She isn't using sex to distract me, she's using her mouth in another way to tell me that she loves me, accepts all of me, and isn't leaving me. At least, I'm praying those are her current thoughts.
I slid my hands as far as I could into her now soaked curls and took control of the kiss and her mouth. I am - and have been - hard, but I know she'd be uncomfortable doing anything more than kissing in the shower with the men nearby. They're likely worried all over again right now, concerned about Stephanie ... and whether it was safe for her to be alone with me.
It's a known fact that I would never hurt her, but my actions over the course of last night and this morning could have shaken their belief in me and shifted their loyalty instantly to Stephanie if they think she'll be hurt in any way. I may have been out of control, but there is always a level of it I'm in fact keeping. No one except Morelli was going to die, until someone stood in the way of my objective or tried to restrain me. My anger was/still is red-hot, but my intent was coldly deliberate.
With her initial kiss, I believe Stephanie was conveying she knew that and isn't afraid of me or my reactions, just terrified for me and what could happen to me because of them. For this reason, whatever I do pales in comparison to how I torture myself after it's been done. It's something I've had to learn to live with since I was old enough to want to protect my older sister, younger brother, and the sisters that came after him. The Army latched onto the potential they saw and they sharpened my sense of responsibility into a fine and deadly point.
Which makes what I did today even more unacceptable. I'm in charge of protecting my men, in no way should I be the one injuring them unless a lesson needed to be taught and remembered. I dishonored myself and let the people closest to me down. That hurts - and will haunt me - more than what I just survived in my other Ranger-life.
Steph's whimper jolted me out of my thoughts and the sensations she's still stirring in me. The sound she made wasn't a pain-filled one. Her arms had come around me at the same time as her little murmur escaped, so I wasn't concerned that I hurt or upset her again.
When I released her lips, she didn't let go of me. If we had been in her apartment, the water would've run ice-cold by now. She had stepped closer to me as her arms closed around me. We ignored my dick, since this embrace isn't about relieving the ache there. The deeper, internal one needs far more attention right now.
Showing an incredible amount of tenderness, she licked a few water droplets off the skin right below my clavicle even though the shower head is still raining down on us.
With her lips pressing into the muscles of my chest, she spoke. "You take a lot of these showers, don't you?"
I'm not entirely sure how much I should say or how much detail I should go into, but then I remembered that this is Stephanie. So I was as honest as I could handle.
"When you're exposed to, and covered in, death on an hourly basis," I tried to explain, "that taint becomes a new part of you. No matter how often you try to get yourself feeling clean again, you will never remove the feel of it from your skin, the various smells associated with death from your mind, or wipe away the black marks from your soul."
"God," she breathed into me, "like it's not enough to have to keep your bearings and body intake over there, for the rest of your life you have to struggle to keep them? I really hope that was at least added to the fine print on your contract when you offered your life in exchange for our freedom. If I'm going to end up suffering and struggling for the rest of my life, I for damn sure want to know ahead of time, not after the fact. I'm still mad at myself for not looking into things - and into your life - when I first met you and learned that you're a Ranger/Ranger. I wasn't going to make the same mistake. The day you left, I began my 'research' and started harassing the guys. I planned to be prepared for any and everything ... and I still ended up needing Tank and the guys again."
"Relax, Babe," I ordered, trying to rub the tension out of her shoulders and back.
"Sorry. I'm supposed to be helping you feel better, not put you immediately back into 'worry about Stephanie' mode."
"Believe it or not, focusing on your mental state helps regulate mine."
She reached past me and turned off the faucet, instantly making the room silent. She wants to believe me, but she's still worried about causing me more stress. I don't know how I managed homecomings like this one without her. I told myself I was getting through them, but seeing how freeing it is to be able to talk openly about what I'm feeling instead of hiding my emotions or trying to hide from them, absolves me from some of the guilt I brought back with me for the lives I had to take. War isn't pretty no matter how you try to clean up the retelling of it for others.
If someone as good as Stephanie can look at me and see a man who is human almost to a fault, who's just been through hell and is fighting his way out of it, rather than an inhuman monster who belongs in the deepest pit of it, helps silence the screams I still hear. She's seen the worst of me and hasn't judged me, only tried to love me more. If she's willing to confront my demons with me, I should be man enough to let her love me in any and every way she wants to.
She sees my tears as a sign of strength, not a weakness. She refuses to be scared away by my thoughts or mission recounts. And she held onto me tighter when I'd been expecting her to pull away. Courage comes in many forms, and Stephanie possesses her share of them all. I don't know how I got so lucky as to have her after all the shit I've done, but I will never take it - or her - for granted. She absently wrapped a towel around her body before drying mine. It isn't necessary, but I didn't object.
"What happened downstairs doesn't change how I see or feel about you," she said to me, going to her knees to dry my legs as she spoke in a casual tone, hoping I wouldn't tense up or shut down. "I actually love you more for wanting to protect me that much, and wanting to make sure it won't happen again. I'm understanding this more and more by the minute. And I'm so sorry for your sake that you felt you had to once again right someone else's wrong, because I know you're blaming yourself for something that you shouldn't be."
"Nothing should be beyond my control ... ever."
"And Batman is back in the building," she teased, standing upright again to do another towel-pass over my chest and arms before squeeze-drying my hair. "And don't worry, I also get that last night and this morning aren't the norm, for you or anyone else. If you weren't hurting and provoked, you would have remained my calm, cool, and collected, guy that you always are. The one who just toys with Morelli instead of being seconds away from annihilating him. I know I sounded scared, but only because I was worried about you ... even though I know, and have been assured, that mornings like this one are rare. Plus, now I know how to handle it if someone does trigger you. Remember that ... he triggered you. The blame should remain solely on him."
I could get used to this kind of care, but I kept that knowledge to myself. She'd wear herself out trying to make my life easier.
"It is extremely rare for things to get that far out of hand for me, but it can happen. That's why I, Tank, and any man in immediate danger, protect ourselves by staying together ..."
"That explains Rangeman perfectly. Every day you guys are there to protect, help, and support, each other even more than you do the city of Trenton."
"It helps when you're surrounded by people who have walked in your boots and have faced similar challenges returning home. Until speaking becomes bearable, we hide out here ... waiting for the worst of the feelings and memories to pass so assholes like Morelli can't start something that we need to finish."
She went to hold out my cargoes so I'd be able to just step into them, but she drew her hands immediately back when she realized what she was doing. "I should ..."
"I can dress myself, Babe. I promise."
"I'm hovering and smothering, aren't I?"
"No.
"Yeah ... I am, but I can't seem to stop."
"You won't hear me ask you to, but I am up and functioning."
"That ... and I know you prefer me undressing you, rather than covering all of that up."
"You can uncover me whenever the urge strikes. What's mine is yours," I told her, tugging on my pants and zipping and buttoning them up.
I'd expected to see her smile and blush at my flirting tone, but her expression didn't change and her hands remained tucked into the fold of the towel she'd been about to remove.
Her eyes pinned me so I couldn't do more than breathe. "That goes for your feelings too, Ranger, not just your body," she told me, her words holding a seriousness that had my lungs now freezing. "When you're in pain, so am I ... and I need to fix it for both of us."
"You have," I said, pulling her to me.
"I'm trying."
"Steph, there are going to be things you can't erase, change, or fix, but it's enough that you're willing to stay with me as I work them out myself."
"I'm not happy about not being able to keep everything bad away from you, but I'm here for you regardless. The guys did warn me that even if you were home, you may need a few days before you felt comfortable being around me. I was trying not to get upset about that, but now I understand why you may have felt a precaution was necessary."
"I will never risk you, Babe."
"Even if that means hurting yourself more?"
"Even if," I answered. "Though since we became friends ... and more, seeing you became more important than protecting myself."
She crossed her arms behind my back and hugged me hard before releasing me in order to get redressed.
"Well ... this relationship/eventual marriage-thing, I hope, means you will always come to me just so I can protect you."
"Chances of that are extremely high."
"Okay, I can breathe easier knowing that you can and will ask for help whenever you need it." She started putting her clothes back on as I stepped into my boots. "I told the guys not to leave. I wanted you and them to see that everyone's okay ... that we made it through another crisis together and came out of it stronger than we went into it. Are you okay with that?"
"I owe them more than an apology ..." I began to say.
"Maybe in your mind you do, but I know they'll say the same thing you would. They were doing only what they needed to, because they care about you ... like you would've done for any one of them if they were in trouble."
That's different, I thought to myself. They are my men which means I'm responsible for their care. They shouldn't have to babysit their leader. I earned that title by leading them out of dangerous situations, not dragging them into an extremely personal one.
"Stop beating yourself up," she gently ordered as she watched my face. "Or I'm going to start doing the same thing to myself again. You were coming to me. If I would've stayed at your apartment instead of stopping at mine ..."
"Think about that one, Babe. I didn't have a way of knowing you chose to stay in my building. I would have gone to your apartment regardless, and I would have found Morelli in your lot or worse ... in the hall in front of your door. How do you think that would've turned out?"
Her eyes became real interested in the tile covering the floor. "That thought scared me even more than what I just saw. The jerk probably would've told you that he and I were back together, and that he was there because I invited him, just to piss you off and drive a wedge between us. Oh, God! What if he had told you that and you believed him? Jesus, seeing you in pain and not being able to help has been tough, but if he had managed to come between us ..."
"He wouldn't have. This may be hard for some to believe, but there are a few perks to having PTSD ... for me anyway."
"You must have been hiding them from me then, because having to watch you go through all of this isn't making me feel like your suffering is a positive thing at all."
"I'll admit, a lot of it isn't pleasant for the sufferer or observer, but my heightened senses, being hyper alert at all times, and having overdeveloped protective instincts, have created in me something like a human lie/intentions detector, as another layer of defense between me and the world. My experiences have made me an expert at reading facial expressions and body language, and I can pick up on every tone change when someone's speaking, so I would have known he was lying as soon as his mouth opened. I can also sense what isn't being said, and I excel at figuring out emotions and motives that are lurking below a person's surface. That's why I knew you loved me despite you not saying it. Your body, eyes, and actions, spoke when you couldn't."
"Having super-senses sounds more overwhelming than beneficial. I don't even know what I'm feeling most of the time. I can't imagine having all of that information coming at you with every person you see or talk to."
"My men and I are quiet, but that plays to our advantage. Our silences are another way we gather intel on an individual or situation. We're not purposely being antisocial or anti-conversation, we're just mentally trying to keep ourselves alive. I want you to listen to me here, because this is important."
"What is it?"
"Whenever you begin to tell yourself that what happened is your fault, remember this. I wasn't in any mood to contact the control room, or even Tank, so even if you had been in my apartment, I would've still gone to yours, not knowing your exact location at the time. Morelli would have done exactly what you feared he would, and I would've beaten the shit out of him. Had you not been there to stop me, it wouldn't have stopped at just a beating. Your voice and touch were the only things that got through to me. So you saved him last night, and again this morning. You also saved my men. I don't have the type of connection to anyone like I have with you. My need to comfort you outweighed my need to kill him. While I am still ordering myself to stay here instead of hot-wiring Tank's truck so I can eliminate that fucker, I'm here with you right now. That says a lot about how much you mean to me."
"It wasn't easy for Tank to say that he had to let me help you, but that's what you're telling me now, isn't it? You needed me - and only me - to make you feel like you're home?"
"Yes. You don't give yourself enough credit. You're significant in a lot of people's lives, but you're vital to mine."
"For a guy who doesn't tend to talk a lot, you always know the perfect thing to say."
"Again ... it's one of the bonuses to having a brain that is now wired differently. In not wanting to bring attention to yourself, you don't have the urge to fill up every silence with superficial chatter, so you learn to not waste words and only say what needs to be said."
"That explains a lot. You're quiet ninety-five percent of the time, but when you do start to talk, or let a little more Ranger-humor show, your words always knock me on my ass."
"My intentions have always been to tell you the truth, and also how I feel, without any bullshit."
"It's working for you. I've never doubted anything you've said, only questioned why you would waste your time loving someone like me."
"Falling for you was the easiest thing I've ever done. Figuring out how we could be together was where the challenges began."
"It's been pretty easy once we realized that we both deserve to be happy. While you were gone, the guys actually helped push you and I closer together by telling me what to expect when I got to speak to/see you again, what I should do to make being home easier, while sharing stories of the Military Man they know that I'm not as familiar with, which had me loving you in an entirely new way."
"I learned early on that it's beneficial to pay your employees well."
She rolled her eyes, but smiled as she slid an arm around my waist. "Their loyalty, friendship, and help, has nothing to do with money and everything to do with you. I asked them to stay because I again owe them a huge thank you for coming through for you ... for us. Are you ready for some company, or do you need another minute or two?" She asked, holding out her hand.
I don't want to face what I've done, but I'll never shirk my duty. Being a man means admitting that I'm sorry, and that I owe them for what they put on the line to help Stephanie and stop me. The men all knew there was a real chance they could die along with Morelli, but they came here anyway. They may have even saved our relationship. Cold-blooded murder could have a woman rethinking wedding plans.
I put my hand in hers. "They deserve my thanks as soon as I can give it. I also want Bones to look at your neck," was my reply.
"I'm fine. It looks worse than it feels," she assured me. "I didn't even realize anything was there until we came in from the beach and I saw myself in the bathroom mirror."
"And then you immediately called Tank," I stated, piecing together the details.
"Yeah."
"Proud of you, Babe. That was a good call."
"Literally."
I'm not letting that smile of hers sway me. I will force Bones to check her throat before he leaves, but for now ... I let her take the lead and move us through the upstairs back down to the first floor.
I knew the men would be cleaned and patched up thanks to Bones while Stephanie had been busy putting me back together again. I also knew they'd be in the living room, as far as they could get away from the scene of my crime without being obvious about it. They were trying to spare me one more bloody visual. Each of them, with the exception of Hal, are familiar with this house, they themselves having needed the safety and privacy the property provides over the years, but this is the first time anyone except Tank and Bones have been here specifically for me.
It's embarrassing that reinforcements needed to be called in, but they came running. That they love Stephanie that much, and were willing to risk helping me when I didn't personally request it, is appreciated beyond measure. My company isn't just a security business, my men and I have, with Ella and now Stephanie's guidance, created a family. One that is extremely protective, who will always take care of every member of it.
At the bottom of the stairs, I glanced towards the kitchen even though I already know what I'd see. All the broken furniture had been removed. The kitchen drawers had been put back into their appropriate slots with all their contents tucked safely away inside them. And not only had the coffee maker been put in its exact spot on the counter, someone had started a pot, correctly guessing we'd all need it. What couldn't be rehung, put back, or saved, was discarded. The blood that had been shed was cleaned off the floor and surviving furniture. And while the keys still haven't been returned to the hook, the holder had been secured to the wall again. The room almost appeared as if a fight to the death hadn't occurred, but I can never forget that I caused one.
As I turned my head away from the room I'll never look at the same way again, I focused my eyes on the one containing my men, who once again listened to Stephanie and did what she asked. They would have remained on the grounds until they were sure the threat has passed, but I wanted her to believe that they're here solely because she needed them. My role in this is minor by comparison.
He's likely taped up and in considerable pain, but that Tank didn't leave had me breathing an internal sigh of relief. His ribs may be cracked, but a lung hadn't been punctured or he'd be in a nearby hospital right now instead of standing guard. Lester's arm has a bright white bandage on it, and he has a cut on his lip and another one over his eye, but he's sprawled on one of the leather sofas, sipping a cup of coffee like he's sitting in a fucking café in France on a lazy Sunday morning.
Bobby's hurting, possibly suffering a rib fracture himself, but he still flung shit back at Santos, appearing as normal as he could. Hal has the beginnings of a black eye and a cut across the bridge of his nose, but that didn't faze him as much as being here without a direct invitation from me. He perched on the edge of the wing chair that had been placed in an out-of-the-way corner of the room, reminding me of Steph's mother whenever I insist on escorting her to the Burg so she won't have to endure her family alone. Cal and Tank, both equally bruised, stayed standing, which had me worried that my actions would trigger similar ones in them. Bones was of the same mindset, and he was keeping an eye on every one of his 'patients'.
My gut twisted knowing that I'm the one solely responsible for the destruction of their bodies and my property. I've taken my share of blows and pain helping Tank, as well as countless other Rangers and Rangemen, through their own nightmares - real, recurring, or imagined - but I'll always prefer to be a protector of them over a victim of my own mind.
"You're going quiet again," Steph pointed out, as she paused in our rejoining our team.
"I'm alright."
"Thankfully, I do believe that now."
Walking back down here was incredibly difficult, but she worked her magic. What could have been a humiliating experience for me was made only mildly uncomfortable thanks to her.
"We're back, Guys. Thanks for sticking around. Before anything is said, I'm warning everyone right now that I'm not letting anybody blame themselves for anything."
"Does that include yourself, Stephanie?" Tank asked, knowing her extremely well now.
I should know better than to try to make her feel better instead of just redirecting her attention to me or to someone else in need. She remembered my words too well and found a new angle for taking the heat off me by shouldering it herself.
"Yes and no. Had I told Ranger before he left that I'd be staying at Rangeman until he came home, a confrontation wouldn't have taken place. Or ..."
"Stop it, Babe. If you're giving me a pass for being out of control, I'm not allowing you to blame yourself for any of this, either."
"You went through hell!" She tried to justify. "Of course you're going to be affected by what you just saw and lived through. There's no way you wouldn't come home hurting ... with your mind straddling two separate worlds. You only told me part of your most recent ordeal, and I'm seeing everything differently. With me, I just lost my temper. I could've backed out when I saw someone loitering in my lot. Instead, I let my anger and my big mouth get the better of me ... again."
"You were defending your man and standing up for yourself, Steph," Lester told her. "That's commendable, not something to be ashamed of. You should've heard the comments going around the control room after Tank told us how you went all Warrior Woman on that fucker's ass. We'd automatically applaud you for sticking up for The Boss, but defending us - and people like us - got you a literal standing ovation from the monitors to the elevator."
"Of course I'd point out the differences between real men - walking definitions of Heroes in my mind - and a spoiled, feels-entitled-to-everything brat. You could take two thousand of him and cram them all together, and that still wouldn't make him a sixteenth of the man any of you are. You fought hard to become who you are now, and you've turned horrible experiences into a need to protect others and prevent the ugliness you know too well from happening again. He had everything handed to - or fixed for - him, despite what awful or illegal thing he's done. He made it through his life unscathed and now uses his power to make his existence even easier, while condemning people who are truly making a difference for the better. I'm honored that you consider me your friend, and I'm extremely proud to be 'Ranger Manoso's Woman'. We are a family now, not just friends."
"We've always considered you family, Steph," Bobby told her. "Which is why we haul ass every time you call."
"Thank you for that. That's another thing that puts you above other men. Not only do you take care of each other no matter the danger, but your protection and loyalty carries over onto the families and loved ones important to your friends."
"You're not just important to Ranger," Hal added in a quiet voice, "we care about you, too."
"The feeling is entirely mutual. I know Ranger will thank you in his own way, but I want to hug you all for at least an hour just for coming here for him. I'm so glad that by marrying Ranger, I get to adopt all of you as well."
Tank would have noticed Stephanie's finger when he first came into the house, but he didn't comment on it until it was brought up first. The other men didn't say anything, either. They were all respecting our privacy even though this is something they want to celebrate.
"So you gave it to her as soon as you came here?" Tank asked me.
He knew I bought the ring, but not when I'd let Stephanie see it.
"More of less."
"Now that all the "Welcome Home" excitement is out of the way, let's get to the good stuff," Santos said. "You two are really getting hitched?"
"Yes," I repeated, though I'm hoping I'm still telling the truth. "Thanks to all of your actions, I still have a future to plan and enjoy. I'm sorry that my behavior required you to be called, but I am thankful that you came through for Stephanie"
"You don't have to thank us or apologize for anything. You don't know how hard it was for us not to kill the asshole ourselves after we heard what he did. We did do a good job of making him suffer for still being alive. You know we will do anything for both of you. And if you would've seen your woman while you were away, you'd know Steph isn't going anywhere. Your future is very secure. I can't believe she let you move the heart even to her other hand, though," Bobby said to me. "You'd think the thing was your actual organ the way she was protecting it."
"It was the only link I had to Ranger," she was quick to explain. "No way in hell was I going to let anything happen to it or him if I could help it."
"The 'link' you have with him," Tank told her, "can't be seen, but it goes beyond a long-distance phone call, a ring, or a marriage. It's what continues to sustain him. It's also what got him back home and through this."
"I'm pretty sure you guys were the Heroes here," she told the room, once again being a master of deflection.
I don't want to admit it, especially since she hasn't yet said she changed her mind about marrying me, but I owe it to her to give her one last out by reminding her what she's getting into.
"I wasn't exaggerating. I would have killed Morelli, and anyone who tried to stop me, Babe. It's not something I'm proud of, but I refuse to lie to you. If you hadn't reached me, there would be bodies littering the kitchen, not just battered ones lounging around in here. You've been my Hero here."
I really want to know what she was thinking in that moment, because instead of running scared or looking horrified, she smiled and carefully hugged me, not wanting to put pressure on any of my sore spots ... internal or external.
"I guess that means I have to stick real close to you for the rest of our lives just so I can keep an eye on you and be there if you need me. Us working for the same boss makes that pretty convenient. There is more than one way to be a bodyguard. You keep me safe and I promise to do the same for you. We're partners in work, in life, and in this fight. I've heard it said that Rangers leave no man behind, and though I'm not one ... I swear I will never leave mine."
"That's the spirit, Steph," Bones told her with clear approval.
"Shit, Steph ... who needs vows when you're giving your man a promise like that?" Cal said to her.
"I made up my mind months ago about what I want and need in my life, and vows or no vows, PTSD episodes or no triggers at all, the city of Deal or Trenton, won't change it. I'm stubborn like that," she bragged.
"Thank God," I said, with more feeling than I'm comfortable with.
"You say that now, but when you can't get away from me, my overwhelmingly-obnoxious care, or my questions, you'll find yourself cursing me instead of praising me."
"I don't foresee that happening, Babe. Ever."
"I hope not, because I'm sticking to ... I mean I'm sticking with you ... for life, even if I annoy the crap out of you for eighty-percent of it."
"You can annoy the shit out of us any time you want," Santos said. "Obviously we're glad The Boss is back, but we're gonna miss keeping you company."
"There won't be anything to miss. Don't forget, you guys owe me some stories. Plus, I still have a lot to learn about all of you, not just Ranger, so I can help, understand, and appreciate, not only this guy," she said, gently tightening the arm that was around my waist, "but also help and honor all of you."
"If you can convince Ranger to share your time, count me in for story time and telling you whatever you're interested in knowing," Cal said.
"So we can start tomorrow?" She said, looking up at me with the question tugging at her eyebrows.
I'm still not back to a hundred percent, but isolating myself has a less than positive affect at times, so I nodded my consent.
"Okay, so we expect the six of you to come back here tomorrow and have lunch with us. Ummm ... do you think you can bring the lunch along with yourselves?" She asked.
"What are you in the mood for?" Bones asked.
"Whatever I don't have to attempt to heat up, that's also something Ranger won't grumble about or spend an hour picking apart with his fork instead of consuming it."
"Ella packed a few bags of clothes and stuff for both of you. I had Hal put them in the coat closet in the kitchen so you won't be tripping on them," Tank informed us. "The place stays stocked with the essentials, so do you need anything besides lunch and your clothes?"
"As a matter of fact," she answered, "yes. I'll text you the details later today."
That she wouldn't come right out and say what she needs, didn't sit well with me. Steph caught the sudden tension in my body and automatically went into soothing mode.
"It's just that I'm not sure the stuff I want can be gathered on such short notice, so I'll do a little computer work and send Tank the details. That way he won't go nuts hunting my list down. It's not a big deal."
My instincts told me otherwise.