Mercenaries R Us

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a/n Tank's interview with Rosen is at the end of Chapter 12, in The Price is Right. Yes, it took Rosen four long years to corner Tank, and yes Ranger alludes to the interview anachronistically in The Math Teacher, which takes place around the time of this current story.

a/n If you've been enjoying my fics here you are very welcome to come read more stories on my Mercenary Ranger blog, where I have posted stories not available here, and photos for some of my ff stories posted here. I'd love it if you left me a note after your visit... enjoy:

http:/ / mercenaryranger[dot]blogspot[dot]com

previously: What, you thought I'd tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but? —

Chapter 13 ~ And So It Goes

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Stephanie

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"Ranger? "

"Yeah, babe?"

We were in our bedroom at Haywood Street. I sat on the big, wonderful bed watching Ranger unpack his duffle.

I said, "You know how in that interview that guy Rosen asked you if Ricardo Carlos Manoso is the name you were born with?"

"Uh huh." Ranger dumped a pile of light cammo fatigues into the hamper for Ella to wash and iron.

"And you said No comment."

"Yes."

"And when we got married that was the name on the marriage certificate. And on Zoë's birth certificate."

He turned at looked at me, locking eyes, trying to read my mind. He said, "Where are you going with this?"

"Well I'm thinking how your family all call you Ranger, even your mother calls you Ranger. A few people who know you well in your current life call you Carlos, okay, and sometimes Anthony slips and says Carlito….But basically everyone close to you uses your street name."

"And?"

"And so I'm married to a man whose name I don't really know, right?"

"Babe, let's not go there. The Carlos Manoso name is good, really."

"RANGER!"

Okay, yes! I yelled at him.

"Babe, you'll wake up Zo…."

"Why do you have six passports in your safe?"

"Did you look at them?"

"No! But I saw them when I put my rings inside—which you told me was okay to do, so obviously you weren't really hiding them."

"Right…"

He walked to the wall safe and opened it. Pulled out the stack of passports and handed them to me.

"Go ahead, snoop all you want, babe."

I held the small stack of his identity in my hands, my head bent as I studied the top cover, blue with US logo. I looked up at him.

"Would you prefer I didn't look?"

He did his tiny shrug and made a whatever gesture with his hands. He sat down next to me on the side of the bed and said, "Go ahead, Steph. You're my wife, if I didn't want you to see them, I'd have kept them somewhere else. I have no secrets from you, babe. Really."

There was a blue US passport for Ricardo Carlos Manoso, DOB the one he'd told me. There was a black diplomatic passport for Carlos Manoso, same photo, same birthday.

There was a US military passport with a military photo ID card tucked inside for Carlos Manoso. It was current, same DOB. It showed Ranger as a civilian attached to Spec Ops/Delta, military rank Colonel.

"Hmmmm…."

I continued my snooping.

There was a passport for Richard Manning, different DOB, Ranger's photo. Two more: another black diplomatic passport with a Spanish sounding name—Frederick Rodriguez; one with an Arab-American name—Muhammed al Ibrahaim. Different birth dates. The birth years were all the same, making him age thirty. All the passports had stamps. The very false name ones had less stamps than the Manoso ones which I presumed he usually used.

I looked at him.

"None of these is your real name, is it, are they, I mean?"

"You know what I do, don't go there."

"Ranger!"

We did a long stare-out. Yippee! I finally won, because this one ended in a Ranger sigh, meaning tiny but heartfelt. He got up and opened his locked gun drawer. He lifted out the felt-lined bottom and withdrew two more passports. One was blue, a US passport. The other was green. Slowly he extended them to me.

I asked again, 'Do you want me to refuse to open these?"

"Do you trust me, babe?"

"Always, Ranger. Completely. Forever. I love you."

"But?"

"Color me frivolous but I want to know your name!" I took a shaky breath. "I want—need—to know the name of my baby's father."

"Babe, I've been Carlos Manoso for years, I'm used to it, it's my name. It's the name on my military record. When we got married I never even thought about anything else. I really wasn't trying to deceive you…but go ahead, check 'em out."

I slowly opened the US passport. Despite his words it was up to date though unused. His photo was in it, his wonderful smile and dark eyes, short hair. Recent.

I opened the other passport. It was a British Commonwealth/Cayman Islands Passport. Same Ranger photo. This one was used. Both had a February date of birth, not August like he'd told me.

The name was, of course, a name I had never heard before.

"Is this your real birthday?"

"It's his birthday. My birthday is August 12, just like I told you."

"How do you recall the different other birthdays?"

"Practice, babe."

"This is really confusing."

"I know, babe, that's the point."

I looked at him picturing him with this other name. It was silly but it made me see him as less ethnic, less Latino, more American. This man played golf, drove a Mercedes, wore LaCoste golf shirts, went to Harvard—yeah, I thought I'd met him a few times, he slipped out from behind the Carlos Manoso façade once in awhile.

"Omigod, even when you're being yourself you're undercover."

Tiny non-shrug.

'What's the deal with the Cayman Islands passport?"

"That's for business and taxes. If you keep enough money there you can get a passport, dual citizenship thing. The Caymans are all about money, you know. Like Switzerland." Only hot and sunny.

I handed the passports back to him. It seemed really schizophrenic to me, I'd be so confused. I looked at him closely, the wonderful body, his beautiful, dear face, the mocha skin and black eyes…. I sighed.

Ranger said, "Well?"

"Uh….."

"C'mon, babe. Talk to me."

"It suits you, especially when you're dressed in golf clothes."

"Babe."

He pulled me to my feet and hugged me. I let myself relax into his safe, warm embrace for a minute, then said, "Ranger?"

?

"If someone calls you that name—do you answer?"

"No."

Ranger

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I watched Steph's face carefully. Had she bought it? Would the story hold, did she—believe me?

I saw nothing but love on the face of this woman I loved so much. I saw no doubt at all in her clear blue eyes. I silently thanked God or whomever for giving her to me, for letting her into my life. And all my personas heaved huge sighs of relief.

Steph again

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I watched Ranger put away all his passports. He locked the gun safe and the regular safe, glancing at me as he finished.

I smiled at him and said, "I love you, Ranger."

Or whatever your name really is….

The end

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