Disclaimer: I do not own or possess any copyrights in relation to this story, nor am I being compensated in any way … unless you count warm fuzzies from reviews. Sadly my bank does not accept those as currency.

Fair warning: There will be violence, mature language, and sex in this story, so read at your own risk ... be prepared for MA/NC-17 content.

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Chapter 25

Ram leaned back against the chair and sighed heavily. He had a new appreciation for how hard this search had been for Tank. And Bobby.

He wasn't quite ready to go as easy on Lester, not after he admitted to Steph that part of the reason for that campaign of dickishness was because he was jealous she wasn't with him. Steph hadn't been impressed by Ram's reaction, but he wasn't going to apologize. He wasn't going to put up with the kind of shit that Joe and Ranger did when it came to other guys hanging on her.

She's mine.

A quiet snort broke the silence.

"What?" Stephanie looked up from her place on the floor. She was adorable … cross legged, surrounded by files and her hair in what he thought started out as a ponytail of some kind. Her unfortunate habit of tugging at the ends of it meant it was now seriously listing to one side.

He shook his head. He wasn't stupid enough to tell her what he was thinking. Steph understood his "alpha male" qualities as she called them, complete with air quotes, but he was sure she wouldn't appreciate the possessiveness inherent in that statement.

Didn't mean it wasn't true, he just didn't want to sleep on the couch or deal with a rampaging Steph.

"Are you getting anywhere?"

She looked at him suspiciously for a few seconds before deciding to let it go. Glaring at the piles around her, she made a sound of frustration.

"No," she admitted.

Ram nodded, stretching a little and noticing that his shoulder was starting to tighten up from sitting at a desk all morning.

"Come on then, up. Let's change and go work out. I need to do PT and you need to get back on a schedule before you undo all of your hard work."

A groan and flop backwards against the floor made him sigh. She had been doing so well.

Moving to the bedroom and digging through his bag, he made a note that they were going to need to do laundry again soon. Changing quickly, he walked back into the other room and grabbed one of the bottles of water from the case they had bought when they arrived.

"I'll be back later," he called as he headed to the door.

Stephanie sat up abruptly. Wait, what?

"You're not making me go? Seriously?"

Ram stared hard at the little placard on the back of the door that all hotel rooms seemed to have. Keeping his voice level with an effort, he said, "No Steph, you're an adult. I told you before that it was up to you. The only time I've pushed was when I was in the hospital and you needed to release some tension. It was the only thing I could think of to do that would help."

She was silent. Ram flipped open the manual lock and then paused as he started to open the door. Looking back and seeing the look on her face, he wasn't able to bite back the words that he regretted almost as soon as he said them.

"You do remember who you're with, right? How long am I going to pay for their fucking mistakes?"

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Stephanie stared at the door as it clicked shut.

Son of a bitch!

"What the hell just happened?" she asked the empty room blankly. Rage was quickly building up in her system. Confused and more than a little hurt, she stood up and got away from the files before she did something that she would regret. Maybe.

Like set fire to the entire pile.

New Steph was trying to remind her that he was probably having a hard time with the search and all of the other things and he hadn't been wrong exactly, even if he was being an asshole about it.

Old Steph didn't give a shit if he had a point or how he felt about anything. Old Steph wanted to shove her stun gun up his ass and pull the trigger before she told him to go to hell and left.

Stomping into the bathroom, she growled at her reflection. Yanking at her hair, she did her best to make it look presentable and then glanced at her makeup bag. After Ram had been shot she had gotten out of the habit of hiding behind it. There was no way to keep even waterproof mascara intact with the amount of crying she had done, so she had let it go. Other than when they went out for dinner or something, she had actually been going natural since he seemed to prefer it.

Cheeks red, tears threatening, she let the rage take over. She wasn't going to cry goddamnit. Pulling out her favorites, she quickly fixed her face and started layering mascara on her lashes until she felt more like herself.

Now what?

She couldn't stay here. The room was too small and too filled with shit she didn't want to think about right now.

Digging through her suitcase, she changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. Grabbing her coat and purse, she stopped at the door and growled.

Old Steph wanted to complete the storm out and let him wonder.

New Steph knew that not leaving a note was cruel.

The thought that she'd lose the moral high ground if she didn't leave a note was enough to make her turn around and scribble one. Biting her lip and rolling her eyes she added a postscript.

Being a grown up sucked.

I need some space – going shopping.

S

PS – I have my gun, trackers, and cell phone for emergenciesONLY.

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"Good morning Sir."

"Johns." Acknowledging the man at his door, he motioned him inside. "Have you made a decision?"

"Yes sir," Johns said as he shut the door to the office before sitting down.

Special Supervisory Agent Metcalf contemplated his subordinate. "I'd like to hear your reasoning as well." His decision to use Johns on this assignment had been met with resistance. It was as much an op as it was a test for the young analyst. If he couldn't work past his new blind spot the Agency would need to move him to another area altogether.

Which would be a shame, the man was intuitive and extremely good at his job. His old Delta Force commander had been peripherally involved in that mess in Colombia and the two men had spent more than one evening debating what happened.

The fallout from Johns' decision to notify the snipers of what was going on had repercussions that were still being felt. The CO that had led the team had been forced to resign immediately, although that wasn't unexpected. It would have been the last mission they were sending him on anyway, the man was getting too old. The handlers for a couple of the snipers were indicating that they doubted there would be renewals signed, which meant they had lost some good assets over it.

The ethical debate had raged in the backrooms of the Agency from those 'in the know'. There were more than a few who wanted Johns fired immediately for breaking protocol and endangering the mission. Metcalf was part of the contingent who pointed out that Johns' reaction had actually been more restrained than anyone would expect from a brand new techie. He could have blown the mission in a few different ways, but the man had kept it together long enough for them to complete it.

"I believe we should pick her up and hold her in a safe house until the mission has been completed." Johns stated confidently.

Pursing his lips, Metcalf took a breath. That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "Why?"

"The file I've compiled on the woman shows someone who seems to attract trouble. She's a fugitive apprehension agent, or bounty hunter, with an outfit in Trenton that has a lot of ex-military."

Metcalf nodded, he knew this part very well.

"In the last few years she has been hospitalized numerous times and had her vehicles firebombed or destroyed in some other manner. Her 'adventures' are often publicized in the newspaper. The woman is, to put it bluntly, a terrible risk."

He still wasn't convinced, but at least it didn't sound like Johns was operating blindly. Not quite.

"In the last six months or so, things seem to have quieted down a bit for her. Until a few weeks ago anyway. Her partner was shot and almost killed during a routine pickup. At first it was assumed that the man they were there to collect had shot him. Privately the consensus is now that it was someone internal to the company."

Johns paused and looked back down at his notes.

"Neither Ms. Plum or her partner have been seen since he was released from the hospital. We were able to confirm that Mr. Ramsey, her partner, went home to Chicago for Christmas, but we're only speculating that she accompanied him. If she did, she didn't go under her own name. However, in the last week or so there has been a rash of problems involving Ms. Plum."

"I thought no one had seen her."

"The police were called to her apartment after a neighbor called and said that there was a break in. A few days ago it burned down. The fire department hasn't completed their investigation, but there's little doubt that it was arson. This is speculation, but there was another fire at Rangeman headquarters a couple of days before that I think was also arson. It's listed as a small car fire, but the police report indicates that it was Ms. Plum's personal vehicle."

"So whoever it is, they're escalating things," Metcalf mused.

"That's my conclusion as well. I believe that we should place Ms. Plum in protective custody. If the other mission hinges on her safety, I can't see how we can ignore this."

Tapping a finger against his lips, Metcalf leaned back in his chair. "Is she actually in danger though?"

"Sir?"

"She hasn't been touched at all Johns. Things are happening around her, but there has been no harm to her physically."

"Well yes, that's true sir, but can we guarantee that when she returns to work?"

Ah, there's the blind spot. "No, but we can never guarantee someone's safety Johns. If they actually kill her, her use to them as a way to influence our operative is gone. And our operative being who he is will spend the rest of his life looking for them. He is not a man you anger lightly. Since the other operation is on a rigid time table and the go-no go date is over a month away, what would it gain them to hurt her now?"

He looked back over at Johns, who was looking a little angry at his line of thought. Metcalf sighed silently.

"If you can convince me that the opposition could gain something from killing her now, I'll consider picking her up Johns. Otherwise, I'd like you to keep abreast of the situation. Please keep in mind that we do have a green light from our operative to pick her up in less than 60 days anyway."

"Yes sir," Johns ground out.

"Dismissed. Oh, and Johns, find her. I don't like that we don't know where she is. Just in case."

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Ram let the weights clink as he released the bar. Glancing up at the clock, he wondered if he had given Stephanie enough time to calm down yet.

You're a fucking moron Ramsey.

When he had closed the door behind him earlier, he had known he fucked up. Yeah, he was irritated at her seeming inability to adjust to the fact that he wasn't treating her like they did, but he had known it was going to be that way and he went ahead anyway.

Was it the culmination of everything that's been happening? He had no clue, but even though he knew logically that he overreacted and hurt her, he was still a little pissed off about it. After all of these months, she couldn't see that he respected her enough to let her make her own decisions?

You knew it wasn't going to be easy asshole. Is she not worth it now? Has anything really changed or are you just taking your bad mood out on her?

Moving to the leg press, he let the repetitive motion do its part to soothe his temper. They needed out of that room more and they needed a little space from each other. He loved her, but they had been living pretty close the last couple of weeks. For two people used to being independent and being in a new relationship that they were still adjusting to, it was a bit much.

When he looked up next, he was startled to see that he'd been down here almost two hours. At least he was back to feeling mellow and in control. Hopefully she would be willing to talk now. About the only thing he did right earlier was leave immediately before they started a full blown fight.

Heading back to the room, he took a deep breath before sliding the keycard into the lock. Opening the door, he noticed that everything was still about where it was when he left. Letting the door swing shut, he frowned as it registered that the suite felt empty.

She knows better. She wouldn't.

Anger starting to simmer low in his chest even as worry knotted his stomach; he calmly walked through the bedroom and bathroom, verifying that Stephanie wasn't there. Refusing to panic, he walked over to his phone hoping that she was just getting something to eat. Hopefully something chocolate.

Staring at the note laying innocently on the table, the anger that was simmering suddenly flared wildly.

I'm going to fucking kill her.

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Arriving back at the hotel, Stephanie was feeling much better. Thanking the cabbie and handing him some cash, she gathered up all of her purchases and smiled happily.

She'd have to pay Ranger back, since everything wouldn't fit on her credit card, but it would at least give her some more options. She was trying to consider the fire a chance to update her wardrobe, but it wasn't really working. Updating her wardrobe meant that she'd still have her favorites. Still, she was pleased with the stuff she'd gotten.

About the only thing she hadn't started replacing were the outfits she had specifically for distractions. If they asked her to do one, she'd just have to buy something. Being forced to shop would be such a hardship. Hah!

Not setting anything down in the elevator, because she wasn't sure if she could get it all picked back up before the doors closed again, she managed to get within a few feet of the door before her arms gave out. Shaking them to get the blood moving, she dug for her key.

The door was suddenly yanked open and her very tall and very pissed off boyfriend was suddenly in front of her, arms crossed over his broad chest and a glower on his face.

Taking a single involuntary step back, Stephanie stiffened her spine and glared back at him.

"Hold the door for me please," she finally said. If they were going to fight she may as well get everything inside first. Dragging everything through, she didn't bother looking at him as she carried it straight into the bedroom and shut the door with a firm snick.

Defaulting to what she'd always done, she decided to ignore him. In her opinion he owed her an apology. She didn't do anything wrong. If he wanted to act like an asshole, it didn't matter to her.

Liar.

Shut up.

Almost an hour later, she felt him come to the door of the room, but she continued removing things from the bags. The few things she had picked up for him sitting off to one side, she started using her teeth to remove tags.

A knife was silently held out and she debated if she should even acknowledge it. Quickly glancing at his face, she was caught by the conflicting emotions she saw in his eyes. Looking away, she took the knife without looking, but let the pair of jeans she had been struggling with drop into her lap.

The bed moved as he sat down near her, although she noticed that he left some space between them. She was willing to bet he wished he hadn't handed her that knife now. When he didn't speak, she clenched her jaw and started working on tags again.

If he's waiting for me to apologize, he's going to be waiting awhile.

When he suddenly got up and walked back to the living area, she gaped after him. Ok, he left the bedroom door open, but still. What the hell?

Too curious not to look, she finally peeked out the door and felt her heart drop when she saw him watching television calmly, like nothing was wrong. Stepping back, she firmly slammed and locked the door. Not that the lock was going to keep him out but she was making a point here.

Lost in thought, Stephanie sniffed loudly once before getting it under control. She refused to cry over this. She didn't do anything wrong, not this time. Ok fine, she probably shouldn't have left the hotel and she knew that, but the danger was minimal and the escape was necessary for her sanity.

Pushing the new clothes to the end of the bed she decided to take a nap. Hugging his pillow close to her chest with her phone on the bed next to her, she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

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On the couch, Ram was wondering what the hell he was doing. He knew letting this go was just making it worse, but every time he started to open his mouth he got pissed off again. He had hoped some more space would help and he had started watching a movie, but all it was doing was giving him too much time to think. Hearing her slam and lock the door had set him back to ground zero.

Christ, can't they make movies that are interesting anymore? Are all of the good ideas taken? Must be why they keep doing remakes.

He felt his stomach growl and looked at the clock. If he was hungry, she had to be starving. No matter how pissed off she was he didn't think she'd skip a meal. Rubbing a hand briskly over his face he quietly picked the lock.

Opening it quietly, he saw Stephanie curled up on the bed with dark streaks on her cheeks. Her mascara must have run … damnit. Good job, you made her cry. Because she doesn't have enough shit going on right now.

Feeling his anger finally seep away he lay down carefully. When the motion of the bed made her move a little, he used it to urge her closer until she was curled up against his side. His hand made soothing passes over her back as he coaxed her towards consciousness.

The hitch in her breathing and her body tensing told him that she was awake enough to realize what was going on.

"I'm sorry I said that Stephanie. I was frustrated and hurt, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you," he offered quietly.

"I'm still pissed off at you."

"I'm not particularly thrilled with you either. But I am sorry for snapping at you," he retorted.

They were both quiet for a few minutes. His hand continued to make long sweeps and her fingers were knotted in his t-shirt, worrying the fabric.

"I don't know how to have a fight like this," she said.

He tilted his head to look at her, but her eyes were firmly fixed on his shirt where her fingers were twisting. "Like what?"

A shrug. "I know you don't want me to compare us with …"

Interrupting, he corrected her. "No, that's not exactly what I mean Steph. You're going to make comparisons, everyone does. What I don't want you to do is assume that because they did certain things that I'm going to do it too. I don't expect a blank slate, but give me some room to make my own mistakes. At least attempt to trust me."

She seemed to be mulling that over. "I do trust you. If I think about it, I know you don't lie to me. It's when I don't take the time to think that I guess I start assuming or something. I don't know what to do about it. You just told me last night that you knew it wasn't my fault. Now you're mad about the same thing."

"And I apologized for saying that. I know it will take time. I'm not perfect Stephanie. I get mad and frustrated just like anyone else."

"I don't know how to be pissed off at you and … well I don't know how to have this kind of fight. When Joe and I fought we'd yell. A lot. Very, very loudly. Eventually one of us would storm away and the other would show up in a few days with a pizza and beer and everything was fine again. Ranger and I don't fight. I yell, he stares at me and then walks away. By the time I see him again it's not an issue. Dickie and I … well it's not even worth going into."

"So what you're telling me is that you left a secure hotel room without telling me exactly where you'd be because you only know how to yell or leave when you're having a fight?" he bit out, trying to temper his tone and failing miserably.

Her body tensed again when the accusation landed. "I left you a note," she said defensively.

"That said you were shopping. This is a fairly large city Stephanie. Exactly where should I have started looking if there was a problem?"

Sitting up, she glared at him. "I took my trackers and cell phone. I had my gun. It was fine!"

Temper starting to slip, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. And then another one.

Eyes still closed, he tried to explain. "If something happened to you, the first thing the guy would do is strip you of your weapon and cell phone. This guy works for Rangeman Steph; he knows where we put your damn trackers. He knows what we use to track you. You didn't even give me a starting location. I would have been completely in the dark."

Opening his eyes, he saw her chewing her lip. He was willing to take the blame for starting the fight, but she had to see how stupid it was to leave like that.

Of course her stubborn streak kicked in right about then. "No one knows where we are, it was fine. I left you a note and I had all of the stuff I'm supposed to carry. I needed to get away from this room for awhile. By myself. I don't do cages. Maybe you're the one who forgot who they're with," she said as she got off the bed and slammed into the bathroom.

Wishing he had something more substantial than a pillow to throw, Ram tried to content himself with glaring holes in the ceiling. This habit of hers of slamming doors and walking away was getting old really fast. Getting some space so you can approach things rationally is one thing, but this was just … irritating and childish.

"Get back out here Stephanie."

"Why?" Her face appeared in the crack as she opened the door a little.

"Because we're not done talking. Because I'm not going to chase you around like we're teenagers who don't know any better. Because we're not going to get in the habit of ignoring shit and hoping it goes away. Because we're both wrong and we're both right and unless we talk we're not going to find a middle ground."

"I'm not really in the mood to talk right now," she said before closing the door again. At least it wasn't slammed.

Closing his eyes and praying for patience, he raised his voice enough so that she could hear him. "Fine, but please stop shutting me out. I'm not in the mood to go out for dinner, so I'm getting room service. If you want something, you need to tell me. If you want to watch a movie or talk, I'll be in the living room."

Ram made his way back to the living room, pointedly leaving the bedroom door open. Remembering that housekeeping was coming by in the morning, he started to gather the files scattered around the room. He doubted they were going to get anything more done on this tonight.

Hearing Steph stop at the door to the bedroom his body tensed. If she shut that door they were going to have a serious problem.

"Can you get me the chicken marsala and something for dessert?" Stephanie stepped away from the door before turning around again. "Um, don't forget to call your mom too."

Turning around and meeting her eyes, he examined her carefully. She had washed her makeup off and changed into lounging clothes. He nodded and gave her a small smile.

Fifteen minutes later dinner had been ordered and he was hanging up with his mother. Steph had her hands hidden in her long sleeves and her arms crossed when she shuffled over to where he was sitting on the couch. Sitting down on the cushion next to his, he watched with hidden amusement as she tried to figure out what to say.

"Can I pick the movie?"

"Only if you give me a bite of the cake I ordered for you," he responded with a straight face. Lifting his arm and tugging her into his side, he pressed a kiss into her hair and handed her the remote as she argued that if he wanted cake he should have ordered some.

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Next up – An epiphany