Disclaimer: See ch. 1

Spoilers: Through Plum Spooky to be safe

A/N: So sorry for the long wait. Writer's block, life, the usual. Thanks so much to everyone who's read and/or reviewed the previous chapters. On a bit of a side note, I'd mentioned including Absolution in here somewhere. Upon looking back at it, I realized that too many changes would have to be made in order to make it fit in here, so it will remain a stand-alone one-shot. Check it out if you haven't already. And without further ado…I hope this chapter makes up for the lack of updating.

A/N2: A terrible error in consistency was brought to my attention, so here is the (hopefully) correct version of the chapter. My only excuse for the glaring mistake is that I finished this chapter at like 2 a.m. So thanks jb for pointing it out! I'm really surprised no one else noticed it, but you get an evening with Ranger for being so aware of your surroundings :)

Her bed was empty. He'd been so careful, so precise and quiet sneaking in here so as not to wake her. He'd planned to climb into bed with her and wait to see how long it took her to realize that she was not alone. Then, as she was coming awake, so soft and sweet and warm, he'd show her just how much he had missed her, starting at her lips and working his way slowly down. Obviously that would not be happening tonight. Because her bed was empty.

He flipped open his phone and speed-dialed her cell. It rang and rang until finally the voice mail picked up. He snapped his phone closed.

Two deep breaths later and one pace around her bedroom and he flipped his phone back open. Another speed-dial number was punched in before he raised the thing to his ear.

"R—Rangeman?" Tank asked around a yawn.

Ranger wasted no time on pleasantries. "Where is she?"

"When the hell did you get back? The general told me we wouldn't be seeing you for another couple of days."

"Where the hell is she, goddamn it?"

"Whoa, hoa, calm down there, boss. It's two in the morning, she's probably at home in bed," Tank said, yawning loudly once more. "As you should be."

And with that parting remark, Ranger was growling at no one. The goddamn man had hung up on him.

He dialed the number again, but it went straight to voice mail. Tank had turned his phone off.

Ranger rubbed two fingers into his burning eye sockets and told himself that throwing the phone against the wall would only accomplish breaking the phone, nothing more. So instead he pressed three on his speed-dial and waited for an answer.

"Hey man, when'd you get back?"

Ranger could barely hear the words over the thumping music and the gaggle of voices. "Where is she, Santos?" he growled.

"Hang on, man."

There were a few moments where all Ranger heard were the sounds of what was obviously one nightclub or another, before the sounds faded and Lester came back on the line.

"Sorry, cuz, pretty loud in there."

"Tell. Me. Where. She. Is. Now," he found himself gritting out. Damn it, his babe was missing and no one even seemed to care.

"Who? Steph? I imagine she's probably at home in bed, like most other people are at this hour." There was a smirk in his voice when he continued, "Which is exactly where I'm headed right now. Gotta go, cuz, Tina's getting restless."

And the piece of scum disconnected.

They were dead men walking, Ranger thought to himself. Both of them. And any other employee of Rangeman who was out there sleeping or clubbing or, fuck, even breathing while Stephanie was missing and they were doing nothing about it.

He was sending them all to Uzbekistan.

It just didn't make any sense. He'd given Tank, Lester, and Bobby strict orders to watch over Steph while he was gone, just like every other time. There's no way she could be missing and them not know about it. But then, here it was two a.m. and her bed was empty as could be, and Tank and Lester weren't even concerned.

He flipped open his phone and dialed Bobby. Maybe, just maybe, it was Bobby's night to watch her and the others didn't know anything was wrong yet.

"Hey, boss-man, you just get in?"

"Where is she, Bobby?"

There was a short pause before Bobby came back on the line sounding unsure and confused. "She's at home, man. I just checked on her."

"She's not here, B. I'm standing in her bedroom as we speak. Get the word out, code Babe."

"Naw, man. Not her place, she's…"

An alarm sounded in the background and Bobby let out an expletive.

"I gotta go, Rangeman. But she's fine, I promise."

And with that, the third employee this morning hung up on him. He was seriously losing his touch.

And what the hell had Bobby meant. Not her place… Whose place, then? Ranger could only think of two places she might stay over for a night. And seeing as there was nothing wrong with her apartment and Tank hadn't mentioned any trouble lately… She wouldn't have gone to her parents' without a good reason. That left… Ranger scrunched his eyes closed and rubbed his temples. He refused to believe that she was back with the cop.

He paced the room—a totally uncharacteristic action—until he couldn't stand it any longer, and then he forced himself out the door, down the stairs and to his car.

And before he could tell himself that it wasn't a good idea, that if she was there that he didn't want to know it, he was parked two houses down and across the street from the cop's house.

His gut clenched painfully as realization hit him. There were two cars parked in the driveway, the cop's truck and a small hatchback that could easily be Steph's. The Dodge Neon she'd been driving when he'd left had not been in her parking lot. And though Tank had not mentioned any vehicle explosions, thefts, or other mishaps, such occurrences were so commonplace in Stephanie Plum's life that they often did not warrant mentioning.

A female figure passed by the lit window upstairs, the bedroom window, Morelli's bedroom. It was all Ranger needed to see.

Her betrayal burned like an acid poured down his throat. He knew that it shouldn't affect him so; he shouldn't let it. She'd gone back to the cop before—she always went back. But he'd thought it was different this time.

He'd woken her with soft kisses on the nose and eyelids and cheeks. He knew that if it went any farther, he'd be late at the airfield and the general would not like that.

"Mmm, morning," she'd murmured, her eyes barely open. "What time is it?"

"Early, babe. I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving."

Her eyes had flown open and he'd seen fear and pain and desperation there before she'd quickly forced her emotions under control.

"Now?"

He'd forced a small smile and swept a curl from her forehead. "Yeah, babe. Now."

She'd sat up next to him and her eyes had seemed to survey him from head to foot, taking him in, memorizing him. He'd already done the same with her before he'd woken her.

"I'm going to miss you," she'd whispered.

He'd pulled her to him then, tucking her in tightly to his chest, breathing in her scent so that he might carry it with him for the next however long through hell and back.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he'd told her quietly. "I'll come home to you."

He'd felt a shudder ripple through her and had to suppress his body from responding.

She'd pulled back and peered up into his face, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I'll be waiting."

Her lie reverberated through his head even as he forced his eyes to the road and drove past the cop's house and out of the neighborhood. He was half a block from Rangeman's underground garage by the time his teeth had unclenched and he was able to take a deep breath. How could he have fallen for it? "I'll be waiting." Huh. Yeah, right. How long had she waited for him before jumping back into the cop's bed? A week? Two weeks? A month?

He pressed the button to raise the garage door with more force than necessary and drove in before the gate was even halfway up. He whipped into a parking space and threw the car into park. Then he sat, fuming. How could he have let her get to him like this? How could he have fallen for the little white girl from the burg so damn hard that he couldn't even see what was right in front of him? That she would never leave the cop for good. That she would never be his completely. That all he'd ever have with her were stolen kisses and caresses. Stolen hours. Stolen because they weren't his to take.

He wasn't even aware of having left the car until he was in the elevator riding it to the seventh floor. He shook his head to clear it, hating that he'd let her make him like this. He'd let thoughts of her distract him, making him horribly unaware of his surroundings.

The elevator dinged quietly as it reached his floor and the doors slid open. He stepped out into the hallway, and then keyed himself into the apartment. It was dark and quiet, just like it always was when he returned from a trip. Empty. Just like his life without her in it.

He flung his bag on the floor in the entryway, kicking his boots off beside it. Normally he would have taken more care with his things, but he just couldn't make himself care at the moment. He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the coat rack by the door.

He made his way through the apartment without turning on a light. It wasn't like it had changed. What was there to see but the same blank walls and neutral furniture? It was a place to stay, he realized, but not a home. He didn't have one of those. There was no "batcave". No secret mansion with a hidden garage filled with high-tech gadgets and incontestable weapons. He'd never had any need for a place of his own. He guessed he never would. He'd been thinking lately that he should buy a place that he could bring her to. A place for the two of them to be alone and just relax. Obviously that wasn't an issue now.

God, he had to get her out of his mind. Perhaps he'd go away for awhile. Take more of a hands on role in the Miami office, spend some time with Julie. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

He went straight to the bedroom, deciding in his exhaustion and his self-pity to forgo a shower until morning. It was only a couple of hours away, after all. He didn't even bother to strip, which was, in and of itself, a true indication of his state-of-mind. The only time he ever slept in anything but his skin was when he shared a bed with Steph and was trying to be courteous. He forced the image of her lying next to him roughly from his mind.

He was surprised to find that his blankets and sheets were rumpled, but he didn't pay much attention to it. Perhaps one of the guys…or Steph…had made use of his apartment lately and Ella hadn't had a chance to change the sheets. He left it at that and slid into bed.

He nearly jumped out again with an unmanly yelp when the other side of the bed shifted and a soft moan emitted from an unseen mouth.

Then with one word, his world crashed back into focus, "Ranger?"

He had the bedside light flipped on and was leaning over to get a better look practically before she'd gotten the word out.

"Babe," he breathed, taking in her sleep-rumpled form. Her hair was in complete and total disarray. There was a crease on her cheek from where it had been pressed into the pillow. Her eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep. She blinked them open slowly and a strange expression, one he couldn't exactly place, flitted across her features. She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was here.

"Babe?" He didn't know what he was asking her, knew only that he needed to hear her voice and know that he wasn't imagining this. Clearly she was having the same problem.

"Are you really here this time?"

He felt his brows draw down at the center. "What do you mean 'this time'?"

Her hands came up to rub at her eyes before she blinked up at him once more and answered, "I've had this dream before, and every time I wake up alone."

He stared down at her, hating the thought of her dreaming every night of his return only to awaken and find that he was still an ocean and a half away.

"How long?" he asked softly.

She seemed to think on it a moment. "How long have you been gone?"

"Six months, two weeks…"

"Three days and twenty one hours," she finished for him even though he could have told her, right down to the seconds. "I guess that's about how long I've been having the dream."

He wanted to tell her that he'd dreamt of her often while he'd been away as well, but found he couldn't speak. So he reached over and drew her into his arms, inhaling her scent as he had all those months ago. It hadn't changed, and he was glad to know that he'd recalled it so well all this time.

"I'm here, babe. I'm really here."

She snuggled into him, her arms tight around his neck, her breath warm against his jaw. "You always say that," she breathed.

He chuckled lightly and hugged her tighter. "Do I?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"And what else do I do?"

She pulled away slightly and peered up at him. Her eyes were a mix of mischief and uncertainty as she said, "You kiss me."

He felt a smile tug at his lips. "Like this?" He asked just before he lowered his head and took her lips with his. The kiss was slow and searching; the kiss of two people who had not had the opportunity to taste and know each other for far too long. She moaned into his mouth and he deepened the kiss until it was something else entirely; something hot and desperate and filled with all of the need he was currently feeling.

"What else do I do, babe?" He rasped when they finally pulled back for air.

"You touch me," she gasped as she lay back on the bed and he crawled up over her.

"Mmmm," he murmured, running his hands down her shoulders to the tips of her fingers, bringing them to his lips one by one before placing her hands on the pillow above her head. She left them there obediently as his hands moved to her sides and ran slowly down to her hips before roving back up to the undersides of her breasts.

"Like this?" He asked.

"Carlos," she gasped as his hands swept beneath her black, oversized t-shirt and pulled it up over her head, flinging it to the side of the bed.

"Yes, babe, it's me."

"You're really back," she said, shivering beneath him.

"I am, babe. And you're really here with me."

"Of course I am, Carlos. Where else would I be?"

He gazed deeply into her lust-darkened blue eyes. "Nowhere," he said as he lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth.

Whoever that woman had been back at Morelli's house, it had clearly not been his babe.

Her back arched, giving him even greater access to the creamy mounds with their little cherry tips. God, he'd missed her. He'd missed touching her and holding her. He'd missed her soft, small hands on him. Even as he thought it, her fingers were in his hair, tugging and smoothing, gentle and restless at the same time.

"Carlos, please."

He lifted his mouth from her breasts long enough to peer down at her, writhing beneath him. "Please, what, babe?" He asked, leaning down to nip playfully at her chin, her neck. "What happens next in this dream of yours?'

"I," she gasped as his mouth found her nipple once more and he drew it in, "I don't know. I—I always wake up before the good part."

"Mmmm," he said against her skin, his lips tracking slowly downward across her stomach, to her navel, finally pausing at the waistband of her blue lace panties. "We'll have to remedy that, won't we?"

And then he was sliding the last offending piece of clothing from her perfect, gorgeous body, baring the promised land to his greedy eyes and his searching hands. He touched her there softly, reverently, groaning at the wetness he found awaiting him.

"Dios mio, babe."

Her hips lifted, desperately trying to make contact with his ghosting fingers, and he felt her hands on his shoulder, grasping the material of his shirt and tugging. Her attempts to disrobe him were unsuccessful and he found himself smiling over the little frustrated noises she made at the back of her throat.

"Patience, babe." And then he was there, right where he wanted to be, breathing in her essence, tasting the very heat of her. She was so sweet, so hot. He knew that if he let her have her way and remove his clothing, he'd lose it completely and this would be over far too quickly for his liking. So instead he brought her to the edge with his mouth and hands before pulling back—much to her protests—and starting over.

It wasn't until her hands fisted in his hair and her inarticulate whimpering formed the words, "Please, Carlos. Oh, god, please," that he finally pushed her over the edge.

Even as he kept with her, his tongue working over her until the very end, his hands were busy undoing his belt and then the button and fly. He kicked his pants free and finally moved up her body, tossing his shirt aside in the process.

"You," Stephanie managed to gasp out in the aftershocks of her orgasm, "In me. Now."

And how could he deny her the very thing he wanted so desperately. The very thing he needed more than air at this moment.

He entered her in one steady thrust, capturing both their moans with his mouth upon hers.

Home. This was home. Not some building. Not a place with four walls and a roof. This woman, this moment, this feeling, was home.

They moved together, push and pull, in and out, drive and retreat, until they were both panting and Ranger couldn't tell who was shaking more, him or her.

"Carlos," she gasped just as she tightened around him, drawing her name from his lips.

"Stephanie."

And then they were both falling and flying and shattering into pieces. And he collapsed atop her, sweaty and trembling and completely unable to move. And for several moments all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears and their heartbeats thumping in rhythm.

When he was finally able to, he moved to her side, pulling her across his chest.

"I missed you so much," she whispered into his shoulder.

He squeezed her tightly. "Missed you, too, babe."

"I can't believe you're really here."

Her arms tightened around him and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head as reassurance that he was, in fact, here. They both were. Together.

"Not that I'm not happy about it, but, babe, why are you here?"

She folded her arms on his chest, placing her chin on them so that they were at eye level. "I needed to feel close to you. This building, this apartment, your men, they were as close as I could get."

He felt a completely primitive, completely possessive growl threatening to escape his throat, but she just smiled and kissed his left pec.

"Not like that, silly. But they're great guys. I've had fun hanging out with them. They did their best to keep me entertained so that I wouldn't think about all the horrible things that might be happening to you. Tank let me know every time he had contact from the general saying you were okay. And when he didn't get contact, he and the guys helped to cheer me up, to keep me sane."

He nuzzled her hair as he imagined his tough ex-military men trying to comfort and cheer this woman in his arms. "I'm glad they were there for you."

"Mmmm," she mumbled.

They were silent for several moments and he found he enjoyed the quiet afterglow and the cuddling with her almost as much as the main act. Almost. He wanted to lie with her like this every night, to wake up with her wrapped in his arms every morning. And now he finally could.

"That was the last one, babe."

She stirred against his chest and mumbled, "hmm," into his skin.

"The mission, babe. It was the last one."

Suddenly she was sitting up next to him, peering down at him with eyes so wide it was almost comical.

"Really?" she asked quietly.

He smiled gently and nodded.

"No more in the wind?"

He shook his head and reached for her, wanting her back in his arms where she belonged.

She avoided his hands and took a deep breath. "Does this mean…"

He could feel his smile widen at the cautiously hopeful expression on her face.

"If you want it to."

"Do you?" She asked quietly.

"More than anything," he said and she finally let him capture her and drag her back down onto his chest.

"I love you, Carlos," he heard her say, and for once the words came easily, without hesitation, without qualifiers.

"I love you, Stephanie Plum."

A/N: One more chapter to go, my dearies! Thanks for reading and don't forget to let me know what you thought of this one!