All familiar characters belong to Janet. Mistakes are solely mine.

"What the fuck?"

"Shhh," I whisper-ordered Tank. "He's finally getting some sleep."

"Ranger doesn't sleep."

"Exactly. So don't screw up the one chance he gets."

I tightened my arms protectively around the dark head and muscled shoulders that are resting across my lap. Sure, the Rangeman garage isn't the most convenient place to get comfy in, but you take what you can get.

"You're just gonna sit here?" Tank asked.

"Looks like it. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

He didn't say anything else, but the slight narrowing of his eyes said there's plenty to be worried about ... because clearly I'm lying to him and Ranger is acting seriously out of character.

"If I could, I'd swear on the Rangeman rulebook that I'll call you if I need help," I promised, trying to placate him enough so he'll go back inside.

"You sure? I …"

"I'm sure," I cut in.

With one last look at the side of Ranger's head, he nodded and finally left us alone.

"Is he back in the building?" Ranger asked from my lap a few beats later.

"Yeah, but I can tell he knows that I just lied to buy you some time. You're going to have to explain what's wrong to two people now. I'm afraid your earlier 'I just need a minute' isn't going to cut it."

Those five words are what he'd told me right after I'd spotted his truck parked in the underground garage, but with him sitting eerily motionless inside it. I had driven to Rangeman with a sprouts and sticks sandwich for Ranger, hoping he was here and had a few minutes to spare to have lunch with me. Our friendship has ventured more into a consistent relationship over the past two weeks, and I wanted to keep it going strong by putting in some time and effort on my end.

But for the first time since we've known each other, my reaching out to comfort Ranger and him face planting into my lap a beat later, had nothing at all to do with sex. As terrified as shared intimacy with Batman used to make me, it's nothing compared to how I'm feeling now … scared, but also really freakin' worried about him.

"Tank will get over it," he told me, not moving more than his lips.

"No doubt, but I can't. What's wrong? I never want Tank to hear that I said he's right about something, but he is right … this isn't like you. So something major has to have happened. And it must be really awful if you don't even want to talk about it with your bestie."

"Say 'bestie' again, and I won't talk to you either."

"Sorry. It's a Mary Lou label that she won't let me forget."

"Try."

I blew out a sigh. "Fine. No bestie mentions again. Now will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"Julie's having nightmares again."

Shit.

"About Scrog?" I asked.

"Yes. Rachel, Ron, and I agreed that counseling early-on would be the right decision for her. I wanted her to continue with once-a-week sessions at least, as a proactive and preventative approach, but after a year of speaking to a professional ... Julie told the three of us that she's okay and really wanted to use that time to do 'normal kid things' instead."

"And you're worried she's right back where she started."

It wasn't a question. Nothing scares Ranger except for someone he loves being in trouble with nothing he can do about it. That he still blames himself for Julie being kidnapped, makes this scary for me in two ways ... being worried about Julie and absolutely terrified for her Dad. He punishes himself far more viciously than he does the psychos he hunts down.

"Yes," he replied.

I combed my fingers through his hair, one for something to do while I thought of what to say, but also I was hoping to soothe both of us with the steady contact.

"I know what you're telling yourself, but none of it's true. You didn't put your daughter in danger. Scrog did. You were you that day, just like you've been everyday before and after it. And if Scrog hadn't totally cracked open his crazy ... Julie would've been living her life in Miami, same as every other day. The only difference was some nut decided to act on his obsession with you. That's on him, not you. Am I to blame because Benito decided to stalk me?"

"That's not the same thing, Babe."

"I disagree. If you're going to blame yourself for being so good at what you do, you draw some unwanted attention to you, I'm going to have to start blaming myself for catching Ramirez's, Cone's, and let's not forget the serial killer my mom set me up with's eyes. I'm not afraid to fight dirty here, Ranger. You and Julie are too important to me to lose."

He sat up then and curled his hand around both of mine. "I love you, Stephanie."

"I know. And I love you right back, which is why I feel comfortable speaking for Julie in this case. You saw her that night. She claimed you in front of half the TPD. She didn't blame you. She definitely didn't hate you. And she for sure was not about to leave you. Truth is, she's better than all of us at putting things into perspective. Scrog was the bad guy, you were the good guy. She was so proud of you, she was almost bursting with it. No matter your relationship at the time, she never doubted for a second that you'd come for her. Do you think she'd trade that feeling for any other one? I'm still waiting to feel that way about my dad."

"You're simplifying the situation."

"Maybe, but only because I know what I'm talking about. Scrog wanted me because he knew you loved me, and I can promise you that I didn't once wish you or your feelings would go away even if it would've made my life easier or safer. I was actually weirdly happy that your love for me was so obvious, even a total nutjob picked up on it."

That surprised a laugh out of him. "Only you, Babe."

"I guess the point I'm trying to make is that you can worry about Julie, you can hurt for her, but you won't be able to protect her from everything. She's like the rest of us. She's going to get hurt, she's going to feel pain, and she's not going to be a hundred-percent all of the time. But lucky girl that she is, she knows she has you in her corner wanting to make everything better, and supporting her when you can't. She has me, too, if you think sharing a few of my experiences will help, not scar her."

He didn't thank me or tell me to butt out, instead he took out his cell and placed a call. "Get me three seats on the next non-stop flight to Miami." I guessed he'd called Tank when he'd requested a third seat. "My, Stephanie, and your services are needed there. I'll explain on the way. For now, all you have to know is that Julie requires emergency backup ... and she's getting the best in the business."