Disclaimer: Don't own 'em but I promise to put them all away where I found them when I'm done playing!

a/n: daylight savings doesn't apply to Arizona ... it is almost midnight here - therefore I declare this to be Manny Monday - even if the date says Sunday ... close enough.

we are stripping Manny bare emotionally - welcome to the Man Cave and its contents.

Expect the Unexpected 26
Manny's Story
by Alfonsina

This debriefing should have gone as smoothly as the first a few weeks ago. It didn't. It wasn't quite a disaster, but there was nothing easy or smooth about it.

The problem started when Stephanie came to the meeting looking like she'd been up all night sick. I know that's not what she looked like before she went back to her own bedroom. In the light of the conference room her skin was pale, her nose was raw, and her allergies must have been acting up because her eyes were red and almost swollen shut. It looked like she had a bad case of pink eye. Maybe she really had picked up a bug in Mexico, I hoped it was just one of those seventy-two hour things.

She didn't pay attention to anything that was going on around her and wasn't adding to the conversation unless she was questioned directly. It appeared that all she was capable of doing was doodling on a notepad or shredding paper napkins. Even when she might have had something to contribute, the question had to be posed at least twice before she would say anything and then her answers were very quiet and short. She was in her own little world.

One of the agents asked, "Why are you so uncooperative, Ms. Plum?"

She shrugged at him and looked down at the conference table. She picked up her coffee cup, put it down again, and began tracing designs on the conference table with her finger.

Before the first afternoon was over, Ranger took her outside to speak privately. She didn't rejoin the rest of the briefing.

"Are we waiting for Ms. Plum?" an agent asked.

"No. Ms. Plum is going to be making her statements separately," Ranger said. "She isn't feeling well right now."

"But this was supposed to be-" the agent began.

Ranger gave him a harsh look and said, "Ms. Plum isn't feeling well right now."

"Should I go look in on her?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," Ranger said. "We need to get this briefing underway. We've wasted enough of one day."

The next morning, Stephanie was again absent from the festivities. It was noted that she was being debriefed in private and would likely return to Trenton alone later that afternoon.

~x~x~

I unlocked my front door for the first time in weeks. It was the first time in months I didn't have to worry about anyone being there trying to improve me.

I wiped my feet before I walked through the foyer and deposited my bags in the living room. It wasn't like company ever came to visit; the bags would be in no one's way. I headed for my bed and wanted to sleep for a week.

Except I couldn't. I needed to check in with my son. Until I did that, I wouldn't sleep well and I knew it.

I pulled the key out of the box in my nightstand and undid the deadbolt to the room I called the man cave. It isn't a typical man cave, not even close. The room was exactly as I'd left it, would probably always leave it. It was the first room in the house I furnished when I bought it. I'd finally won custody of my only child and we were going to have a better life away from his mother. I was scheduled to fly back to Texas to bring my boy home with me; due to the accident, I left his body in Texas.

For years, I'd thought about things with Rita and wondered. Rita had such a hard time getting pregnant that when she finally was, I was beyond ecstatic. I was in love with the baby as soon as the home pregnancy test gave us the good news. Well, the news was good to me; I hadn't known that Rita had done all she could not to get pregnant. She wanted to terminate the pregnancy; I talked her out of it. She hated being pregnant and what it did to her body. She made me get a vasectomy as soon as the fetus was viable. There was no way she was going to go through this ever again.

I would have had a dozen kids with my wife; we wouldn't have been rich, but there would have been enough love to go around. Rita barely had enough love for herself, almost none for our son, and none at all for me. It broke my heart that she couldn't love him, too. I did what I could so he would never know. When he was a baby, I changed him in the middle of the night. I sang to him, badly, but I sang. I walked him for hours when he was teething. She didn't breastfeed him, she couldn't be bothered; he had formula.

When he'd have his bottle, I'd look at him and marvel at the miracle in my arms and how lucky I was. Sometimes I'd cry because my heart overflowed with the joy of him. He was never a chore, even when he was sick. He was perfect to me. He was the best thing in my world.

The short time I had him, I daydreamed about all of the things I wanted for him. I imagined his soccer games. I taught him to ride a two wheeler. I saw him graduate from high school and college. I went to his wedding and got to dance with the bride. I even saw him make me a grandfather.

None of the daydreams came true. Not a single fucking one.

The day Miguel Raphael Ramos came into this world is the most important day or my life; it always will be. I became a father that day and learned what it was to be truly, completely and hopelessly in love. I take that day off every year. I celebrate who he was, who he might have been, who we might have become alone and together. I remember dreams that will never be.

I had hopes that Rita would come to love our son and quit hating me after he was born. It didn't happen that way. She became more angry and more bitter over time. The other men I could have forgiven, her indifferent coldness toward our son I could not. When I sued for divorce and sole custody of Miguel, she didn't resemble the woman I had loved. She was bitter, drunk, mean spirited, and nasty.

I crossed the small room and sat on his twin bed. I picked up what had been his favorite teddy bear, Osito (little bear), and played a little with the paws. I closed my eyes and held the toy against my chest and breathed it in. Osito no longer smelled of Ivory soap or newness. He smelled of dust and neglect. I used to keep him in a drawer with a bar of Ivory soap so he'd smell like my son did at night after we'd had a bath together. Then I realized it was more important to see the bear and remember the fragrance. I no longer use Ivory and I can't even keep it in my house.

I remembered picking out this white bear with the red and purple paw pads, Miguel was only three. When he was five, he'd told me he was too old to have a bear, but didn't want me to give it away. He wanted me to keep it for when he had a little boy. My ex-wife didn't think boys should have soft toys. I told her he had a whole lifetime to be tough and macho, he would be my little boy for a short time. Now, due to her negligence, he was my little boy for eternity.

I pulled the medallion from around my neck and kissed it and wished it was him instead. "Hey, Miguelito. I've missed talking to you. I just couldn't when I was in Mexico. Forgive me, will you?"

I proceeded to tell him, in little boy terms, about where I'd been, what I'd seen and what I'd done. Things he might have liked, things I was pretty sure he would have hated. It was the Disney version, all G-rated, but it was important to share the experience with him. It was a habit that started when he was a newborn and I'd kept it up long after he died.

"Other than the fact I went for work, it was a pretty cool trip," I said laying my head down on his overly flat pillow. "I don't know that I want to go again for a long time though. I had too much free time and I kept thinking. You know how much I hate it when I think all the time. I'm happier when I'm busy."

I went to confession the morning after the blow up with Stephanie. It wasn't to cleanse myself of any sins I'd recently committed, I went to get the hate, anger, and guilt finally off of my chest. Sure I could have done it alone, but I was never able to and I'd been trying for eight years. Maybe it was because it was a church I didn't regularly attend, maybe it was because I made the confession in Spanish, maybe it was because it was time. I don't know and it doesn't really matter.

When I talked to the priest, he asked if I was finally ready to let it all go and move forward in my life. Until I forgave my ex-wife for the car accident that killed her and my little boy, I was going to remain closed to any new or good thing that came my way. He was right. My heart had been locked away for years.

I asked if he believed in signs from God. He said he did. He also told me to ask God for signs that now was the time to move forward; I had permission.

I lit candles in front of the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe: one for Miguel, one for Rita, one for me. I found my way to a pew, they were virtually all empty, and got on my knees. I said one decade of the rosary and sobbed like a little boy until I had nothing left. I hadn't shed a tear since his funeral. I cried not only for my loss but also for his, a life cut way too short. The promise of his life would be forever unfulfilled all because Rita decided to drink and drive.

I left the confines of the church two hours later and felt better than I had for years. I was given a clean slate and I got my do-over, my mulligan. I wasn't going to waste any more time on anger or bitterness. It was time to turn over a new leaf. Now it was time to learn how to do that, with a little luck.

~x~x~

I woke up fully clothed on top of the bed in Miguel's room. The house was flooded with light. Someone making noise in my house. I was supposed to be done with having other people in my home without my express knowledge or permission.

I found the source of the noise taking clothing out of the closet in my bedroom.

"I knocked before I used my key," she said quietly. "You didn't answer and I wanted to get my stuff out of the house." She looked exhausted, sad, and defeated. It was all my fault.

"I wasn't going to sell it or burn it," I said with a yawn. I hadn't scheduled a time yet to get her stuff moved back to her apartment, then again, I'd only been home one night.

"You need to get your own life back and so do I," she said. Very quietly she added, "At least you warned me."

"Warned you?"

"Maybe warned isn't the right word, but you put me on notice. You told me that if I got attached, I'd have to deal with it on my own time." She removed the rings from her left hand and passed them to me. "I don't know if you can still get your money back or whatever, but I don't want to keep these. It isn't right."

I finally got used to seeing the rings on her hand a few days ago, the sight of them no longer made me queasy. Now her hand looked so wrong without the gold adornments. Naked. Empty.

I put them in a box on top of the dresser and nodded. I didn't want her to know that they were cubic zirconia and had little tracking devices built into the settings. Each ring had been altered with its own signal in the event she lost or damaged one, the others might survive. No point in upsetting her any further by telling her now that I'd been able to track her movements in multiple ways for months. Had it really been that long?

I knew the first time we'd had sex she was going to be attached, but I needed her to be; it was for the good of the job. I manipulated her, but she knew all the rules going in. I needed to make sure she didn't trip up the cover. You can't fake intimacy, I've tried. People can tell and that risk was just too high.

Usually when something turns ugly or ends, I'm far from the impact zone. I don't answer the phone for a couple of days. The fallout is another reason that I give so many numbers to Lester; he's better able to take the emotional meltdowns. Lester enjoys pity sex and is willing to provide it. I was tempted to call him after she left and to let him know she'd be needing comfort. Then again, I'd have to kill him if he comforted her and I found out about it.

I stood behind her and gently looped my arms around her middle, I closed my eyes and breathed in her hair and that smell that was uniquely her own. I wanted to remember feeling her like this just one more time. I wanted to take my time to memorize the details that I'd taken for granted for months. I don't make it a point to remember the details of my encounters, but she wasn't even close to being just an encounter anymore; the first week or so, yes, but now, no.

She was the second longest relationship I've had in my entire life and it was all a fucking act. No wonder I prefer the casual scene. At least this time when the relationship ended it wasn't supposed to be my fault or hers. The end was orchestrated so that there was no guilt, hate or bitterness on either side. If that was the goal when this all started, why do I feel so empty? Why had I let her get so hurt? It doesn't matter. What's done is done.

"Aren't you taking yours off?" she asked indicating the ring on my hand.

"No.

My ring had belonged to my grandfather. He had been married to my grandmother for 48 years when she died. He wore it for the next ten years even though she was gone. It was the only thing I had from him. My grandfather was special to me. By wearing his ring, I thought maybe I'd be able to find someone and learn to love again. I just wanted to know how it felt; you know?

"Do you want breakfast?" I asked.

"It's two in the afternoon."

"Okay, how about a late lunch or a very early dinner? I'm starved."

"I'm just going to pack up so you can get your life back. I don't want there to be any weirdness between us now that it's officially over. We each need our own space."

"Let me at least help you pack," I said. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure," she said her voice just above a whisper.

I pulled her boxes and duffels out of the top of the closet and laid them on the bed, then proceeded to the kitchen to make coffee. I opened the fridge and then the freezer and realized I didn't have anything that was fit for human consumption.

"I'm thinking about going out to grab something to eat. I'm out of everything, even coffee. Please, come with me," I said holding my hand out to her.

"No, I can't but thanks. Don't let me stop you. I know where everything is," she said, emptying out what had been her lingerie drawer.

"In that case, I'll be back in fifteen," I said as I pocketed the keys and grabbed my wallet from the top of the dresser. "Call if you change your mind."

"Sure."

The food run took longer than I thought. She was gone when I got returned. All of the drawers had been ransacked. The closet was devoid of her clothes, except for the wedding dress. Even the bathroom had been denuded of all traces of Stephanie. It was like someone had lit a fire and she was moving like a bat out of hell.

My house was now mine again and it felt very vacant, hollow almost.

The only obvious telltale sign she'd been there, a picture from 'the wedding', a black and white print. It was a contrast between us, her light to my dark. For as many pictures as Hector took that day it was hard to believe it was the only good picture of the two of us, a shot of us kissing in front of the altar. Next to the picture was her copy of the house key.

She was gone. This was what I wanted, wasn't it?

~x~x~

Before we left on our initial trip, I'd done a couple of random checks to make sure that Stephanie's necklace could transmit sound as well as location. We were together most of the time and it was just a safety measure. Before I deactivated the chip, I decided to have a listen to see if it was still working. Unfortunately, it was.

"I already told you no, Ranger," she said. "It's a lovely offer, but I'm not interested."

Perfect.

"I want you to move to Miami and work in the office there. Now's a great time to start over."

"Everyone who is important to me is here."

"Exactly and most of them aren't good for you," he said. "Why not go some place where no one knows you so you can start again?"

"I can't do that to my family; just up and leave. I've been gone too long as it is. Besides, the feds wanted John Russo and his organization has folded. There's no motivation or reason to move."

"I could give you a reason if you really need it."

Of course he could.

"What's Manny going to do?"

"Doesn't matter. This is about you and your future."

Yeah, he'd just love to have her at the Miami office; he'll probably move the headquarters of the company to Miami inside four weeks and move her into his apartment within five.

"No, I want to know. Please, Ranger?

"He's talked about leaving the company and maybe relocating. That's all I know. If you want any more information, talk to him."

He wasn't telling her not because he didn't know, but because he wanted to try to grab the brass ring for himself. Bastard. Then again, so am I. I tuned out. I couldn't listen to him sway her decisions. Why had I been so emphatic she never take the fucking necklace off? I'm a God damned idiot, that's why.

Several minutes later, curiosity about killed the cat and I turned the thing on again to listen.

"You really want to know what I want? Do you, really?" she asked the tone in her voice was incredibly defeated.

No answer.

"I want it all, Ranger and more than that I deserve it all. I don't want to come in second place to anything or anyone. I don't want deceit or partial truths. I want a man who will tell me about himself, everything. I want to know his past, his pain, his joy and his dreams."

Tall order. I don't know many men who would be willing to fill it. I know I'm not filling it.

"Babe."

"Ranger, I already know what you have to offer and I don't want it. It might have been good enough six months ago or maybe last year, but it isn't now. It probably wouldn't have been then either. I might have let you seduce me into whatever you wanted and then we'd both hate each other. It's better this way."

"Babe, I can-"

"No Ranger, you can't. I don't know any man who can or will. I'm not even going to look."

The conversation went from there but I didn't want to listen to it. Unfortunately for me, her conversation was a train wreck and I couldn't stay away. I turned the volume down and came back to it several minutes later. I heard was the sound of her heart breaking all over again.

"Stephanie, it'll all be okay."

"You can't promise that. No one can," she was audibly crying.

I had only heard her cry like that twice and both times had been my fault. I think I like it better when she's angry and lashing out, then I have a reason to justify myself and my actions.

"True, but I can promise I'll always be here for you."

"Ranger, if you ever find a nice, normal guy, will you introduce me to him?" she asked, her voice watery this time and she attempted a laugh.

"I don't play matchmaker, Babe. It's a great way to lose friendships."

"No, I don't want a fix up. I just want to know what normal looks like, seems like they are a dying breed."

"I'll see, but I'm not a good source of normal."

"I know."

"So, what about Miami? I think you'd be happy there. We could be happy there."

"No."

"You like that word but you use it too much. Just a short visit, you could see Julie. Please?"

"No. And the word please doesn't work like it used to, it no longer guarantees my compliance. Sorry, Ranger."

I deactivated the chip and threw the laptop to the ground. It was the only computer that had the software specific to her chip and I never wanted to hear those conversations ever again.

~x~x~

I went back to work later that week and was hailed the conquering hero. John Russo was dead and his organization wasn't built to survive without him. Joseph Lipari and Matt Sanders escaped the blast and, courtesy of the US Marshals, went into retirement with their families and new identities for all. The cache of five-hundred unregistered weapons was destroyed. The job was over and it was considered a success and declared incredibly clean. Professionally, everyone came out a winner. Personally, it was a different story.

My life wouldn't be the same, but it hadn't been since I let the word 'husband' slip through the cracks at her chiropractor's office months ago, or was it years ago? It felt like forever ago that I got Velcroed to Stephanie Plum and now the Velcro was almost ripped free. There was just that little electronic record to be obliterated and my life would return to normal.

Nice as it was to be back, the whole thing was difficult; I had paperwork to complete and files to pass on to someone else. I wasn't going to be part of the daily life around the office anymore and I was glad of it. Time to make a new life. I was going to do special projects and be on the fringes. I was on the fringe of having my own life, it fit and worked for me.

The worst part of my return was being peppered with questions in the break room by all of the guys on what it was like to live with Stephanie.

"She's a typical woman; high maintenance and moody. I don't want to talk about it. The job is done." I really didn't want to answer any more questions about her or us, not that there ever really was an us.

"Are you going to date her now?" Zip asked.

"No. I wasn't going to date her before, no point in dating her now."

"Can I have her number?" Slick asked.

"Her number's in the book. Or you can swing by Plum Bail Bonds and see if they'll give it to you."

"If you don't want her, why are you making this so difficult?" Slick asked.

"Yes, Manny, why are you making it difficult to give up Stephanie's phone number?" Ranger asked as he came up next to me.

"They're all big boys and if they want the big prize, they should work for it."

"Let me know if you need to talk about this later," Ranger said quietly as he grabbed a cup of coffee. "We'll start a support group."

It sounded like he was being snide, but he actually looked pretty sincere about it. Hell, maybe we have more in common than I want to admit.

A/N: Wish I could wish you all a Happy Manny Monday – but not this week … things will get better next week, I swear!

Two chapters to go...