Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to Janet Evanovich, and the rest is mine. I'm grateful she lets us play.

Warning: Dark fic. Adult language, adult content, violence, smut. This is written for mature audiences only.

Chapter 13

Ranger's POV

I wait until Steph's hand goes limp and her breathing evens out before releasing my grip. I let out a long, slow breath as an outlet for my emotions before walking over to the table where I placed Steph's clothes. I pull out two handguns, three knives, pepper spray, a stun gun, handcuffs, a couple of small monitoring devices and sensors, and extra bullets. I give my head a slight shake; I've been less armed on several missions than Steph is patrolling the Burg. I ensure the handguns are unloaded and safe before placing everything into a bag I pull out of one of Bobby's drawers.

"I've called in a favor from a friend of mine who works as a contract physician's assistant at the hospital in Princeton. Her name is Alexis Morgan, and the front desk is set to escort her up upon arrival. She's going to help me take shifts monitoring Bomber because I can't stay awake for three straight days. Alex also has ICU experience, and she'll be able to advise me better if I missed something," Bobby reports while in constant motion. "I expect the medicine I gave Steph to knock her out for approximately eight hours," he continues, setting up a nasal cannula and adjusting it around her head and in her nose, making several notes in his tablet.

"Wash your hands, Ranger, and put on some gloves. You can assist me with the wound clean out," he continues, never missing a beat. I move immediately, glad I can feel useful. I suspect Bobby can do this step without me, but I think he knows I need to be involved. Bobby pulls up a swivel stool near Steph's knee and begins the process of marking the edges of the infection, rinsing, and cleaning. He's quiet while he works other than to give me the occasional instruction. He's efficient but thorough, and soon I am throwing my gloves away and washing my hands once more.

Bobby finishes cleaning up, dims the lights in the room, and indicates with his head for me to join him in his adjacent office, leaving the door wide open.

Bobby perches himself on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms over his chest. "Steph's condition is serious, Ranger. It won't take much for me to recommend transport. I'll be monitoring her closely. I've administered antibiotics, and I hope to see her respond within the next few hours," he says seriously.

"Is it common for an infection to spread like this?" I respond, using the information to try to get a handle at my swirling emotions.

"It's not uncommon," Bobby replies. "Steph's been surviving on determination and grit, but with her immune system already compromised in several ways, her body is, unfortunately, a perfect breeding ground for infection. I assume someone cleaned the would out yesterday? It looked freshly bandaged," Bobby asks.

"Hector and I did using soap and water, and I applied bacitracin before dressing it," I respond evenly.

Bobby shrugs. "You did what you could. There was no way to know things would progress the way it did. It's not your fault," he says, and it only relieves a little of the gnawing in my stomach. "Overall, things have gone well today," he observes, keeping his eyes on the monitor attached to Stephanie. I raise my eyebrow in disbelief.

"Bomber honestly and willingly responded to the questionnaires. I suspected some of the answers without asking them, others I already knew from reviewing Steph's medical records, but I partly wanted to see how Steph would respond. I think she has turned a page, if you will, and wants to seek help. That's a huge indicator of future success," Bobby says evenly.

I consider his observation. A lot has happened since midnight, and I ultimately agree with Bobby. Stephanie is an extraordinary person, and I believe that when she sets her mind towards something, she can be unstoppable. This past year, she worked towards survival, and thinking about the lengths she went to in pursuit of that will fuel my workouts for years. Now, she's redirecting that energy into living again, and I'm glad she's allowing me to be by her side.

I feel my phone vibrate, and I unlock the home screen. Pete will be onsite with the contracts to execute Tank's buy out at 1700, and he sent me a draft to review. It reminds me I haven't spoken with Bobby about my plan to deal with Tank yet.

"There will be a Core Team meeting at 1730 in Conference Room Two with Pete. If you aren't busy with Steph, I'd like you to be there. I'm buying Tank out of his Rangeman shares. His leadership and management of Rangeman in my absence has not only been against the core values we developed when we chartered Rangeman, but many of his policies are also in violation of numerous laws. The buyout includes a severance, but he'll be required to sign a document acknowledging the violations, a non-disclosure agreement, and a non-compete agreement. Should he choose to open a new security firm, it will need to be greater than 200 miles from an existing Rangeman office, and vice versa. Lester is contributing 2.1 million dollars, increasing his total shares to 25%. I extended the opportunity to Hector last night to become a Core Team member, and he informed me a couple of hours ago that he will purchase 3.5 million dollars' worth of shares, or 5%. I told Stephanie about the buyout this morning as part of my negotiations to convince her to come into the Rangeman building. She then gave me another 3.5 million in cash that she had hidden in her apartment and offered to be a silent partner. I intend to make her a Core Team member as well, but I'll wait to tell her until she's ready. That leaves me on the hook for the remaining 9% of Tank's shares," I state, and Bobby looks pensive.

"Tomorrow I will offer a settlement to all Rangeman employees affected by Tank's illegal policies. I'm optimistic that by forcing Tank out, it will send a message that Rangeman is once again an elite place to work, and I hope to be able to stave off any lawsuits or invasive government investigations into our workplace practices. Tank has left us in a very vulnerable position, and without taking these actions, I don't believe the company will survive another year financially," I continue, walking over to Steph to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest as I tamp down my anger. I return to where Bobby is leaning a minute later.

"Ranger," Bobby begins with resolve, and I regard him with interest. "You challenged me the last time we spoke, and I've reflected on it continually since. I will never be the leader you are, but I also need to be more careful about who I follow. Regardless of my strengths and weaknesses, I am an appointed leader of this company, and I failed to do more to oppose Tank. I put my head down and stayed in my lane, but the guys and Bomber needed an advocate. You're right. I technically did my job, but I failed at the most fundamental part of it. Our people, including that amazing woman lying in that bed, fighting to reclaim her life, needed me. You should never have come back to the shitstorm you fell into three days ago. I'm deeply sorry for the role I played. If you accept my apology, I would also like to contribute 3.5 million to Tank's buy out." Bobby's tone remained strong throughout, but his posture morphed into one of resolved contrition as he spoke.

"Done," I say immediately, holding out my hand to Bobby. He shakes it in relief. "We'll use this room to sign the paperwork at 1700 before meeting with Tank. Hector will remain here with Steph when I need to step out." I hear a knock on the infirmary door. "I'd be surprised if that isn't him now," I state, walking to the door. As I suspected, Lester and Hector are on the other side, and their faces reflect my internal concern when they catch a glimpse of Stephanie.

I usher them into Bobby's office while he conducts another round of vitals. "As you know, Steph cut her knee last night on the stairs while she was being forced into the holding room last night. Unfortunately, due to several other issues, the cut rapidly became infected, and she is more likely than not becoming septic in addition to having pneumonia. Bobby believes he caught the sepsis diagnosis early and that she can be treated here, but there is a back-up plan to transport her to the hospital in Princeton if she doesn't improve within the next twenty-four hours or if her condition deteriorates. She will be confined to this room for a minimum of seventy-two hours while Bobby monitors her. He's called in back-up, a PA from Princeton named Alexis Morgan, to assist. Lester, develop a security plan for the possibility of transport," I begin, staving off their impending questions. Lester nods his understanding of my order seriously, and I decide that when it comes to Steph, Hector's blank face is the only one that can rival mine.

"From here on out, all Rangeman procedures we follow will be applied equally to Steph. Per that protocol, Lester, I need you to inventory and secure her weapons in the armory. I've placed them in that bag," I direct, pointing to the desk. "Hector, later today go to her apartment to retrieve Rex and pack a bag of clothes and toiletries." I pause to look at my Babe's sleeping form.

"Steph is working hard to move forward, and she is taking her mental health seriously," I continue, shifting my gaze back to the two men before me. "However, she is also vulnerable as she works through this process. You will be sensitive to this," I continue, looking pointedly at Lester, "and Hector, you or I will be with her at all times, asleep or awake." Hector nods his head once, his expression grave.

"We will proceed with the hostile takeover of Tank's shares this evening. Bobby has also offered to contribute a value equaling 5% of Rangeman shares. Pete will meet us here at 1700 to sign the paperwork. Stephanie will be unable to sign, but Pete is working around it. Lester and I will accompany Pete to Tank's office to execute the buy-out and escort him from the building. If the PA is here and ready to assume care of Steph, Bobby will join us as well. Ella and Luis are standing by to pack up Tank's personal possessions.

"I've prepared a companywide electronic notification of the changes in the Core Team that will be released once the takeover is complete. From what I've determined, the other Rangeman branches did not adopt Tank's policies. I will be reverting all instructions and procedures to ones dated before Tank became the Trenton number one, at least until we can do a thorough scrub of the literature. There will be a branch-wide assembly tomorrow morning at 0800 to formally announce the change of command and present the settlement. Pete will be present for that meeting as well. Questions, comments, or concerns?" I finish, looking between them. Being in charge and having a mission to focus on is a good thing, and it helps keep me at an even keel when I'm otherwise helpless to do anything for Stephanie but wait.

"Fuck," Lester says quietly, looking at Steph. "Beautiful can't seem to catch a break. Of course, Ranger, anything." Lester turns and paces the room, completing several circuits before stopping to talk again. "How did we reach this point with Tank?" he says, and I'm not sure if he's talking to himself or me. "I always thought the four of us would be indivisible," Lester continues to muse, beginning his pacing again. "The longer he was in charge, the less willing he was to listen. Then one day I realized there was no longer an us but us versus Tank. We fell apart slowly, but by the time I understood what was going on, it was too late to fix it," Lester says and stops in front of me. "I guess that's not true. Today we fix it, but I wish there had been some way to avoid this outcome," he says glumly.

I reach out and grasp his shoulder. "We all do, but Tank knew better. He's the one who decided to violate Rangeman's charter and break the law," I say resolutely, and Lester nods in agreement before standing up taller. I glance at Hector.

"Make sure you take all electronic devices that are Rangeman property from Tank. I will lock out his accounts and push a mandatory systemwide password reset on all devices for everyone. I'm already running a back-up on the system in case he tries to do anything potentially catastrophic," Hector states, and I acknowledge him as Bobby walks into the room.

"No change," he reports, and my jaw clenches. "Tell me about Steph's living conditions," Bobby asks, looking between us.

"Basement studio, maybe four hundred square feet. Physically secure but worn," Hector replies.

"How's the ventilation? Moisture? Any signs of mold?" Bobby presses.

Hector frowns. "Poor ventilation, including no bathroom fan, no air conditioning, and only baseboard heat. Estefania secured steel sheeting over the one window and never opens it. I don't know about mold, but it always smells stale in there," he says in Spanish, and Bobby doesn't respond.

"Do a more thorough inspection when you pack her bag," I order, and Hector gives me a curt reply of acknowledgment. I need to find a way to convince Steph to move out of that hovel and, even if it isn't into a Rangeman apartment, or better yet, on seven with me, she needs to live in a better situation. "It's 1500 now. See you in two hours," I dismiss, waiting for Lester and Hector to leave before collapsing in the chair beside Stephanie and taking her hand.

My Babe is pale, and her skin, clammy. I can feel the heat from the fever emanating from her. Her breath is slow and wheezy, and the weight of how serious her situation is constricts my heart. I stare at the blip showing her pulse on the monitor, I can't imagine my own life continuing if it stopped.

Steph seemed incredulous when I confessed to her that the guys knew what I was too chicken to admit. She is my reason for breathing, but I would also sacrifice my own life in a second if it meant she would live. Ironically, I know she would do the same for me.

I'm a feared and respected man by nearly everyone, but I also harbor a deep insecurity about opening my heart up to anyone. I spend the past year re-examining the purpose those walls have in my life, and my Babe is the inspiration. Sitting beside Stephanie during Bobby's examination today gave me a glimpse of her incredible courage. She willingly and bravely opened a window to her soul, and I'm not sure that, if in the same circumstances, I would have answered the questions as openly and honestly. It's that understated determination that gives me the most hope that her unseen wounds will be healed.

Listening to Steph's confession about being sexually assaulted four times nearly broke me today, but I understand her reaction to Farro better. I will never understand how a man can take advantage of a woman like that and get off on it. Morelli's career with the TPD will soon be over, and I'm going to take joy in watching his life fall apart. He is not the man I thought he was, and I always fix my mistakes.

I'm encouraged Steph told me about her history today, and it reinforces Bobby's observations and my gut instinct that she is on a path of healing. Steph is letting down her barriers and choosing to trust us, and her tears today are proof of that. She has carried too much alone for too long, and it's little wonder she couldn't hold herself together anymore. As hard as it was to do nothing but hold her hand while she wept, I'm a little relieved. It's still better than the hardened, closed off, self-abusing, and self-medicating Stephanie.

Hearing Steph allude to the one night stands she engaged in as well as her alcohol abuse made me think of every woman I've slept with and walked away from, and I feel sick about it. They may have been consensual partners who understood what was going to happen afterward, but I am now more aware of the emotional burden women, especially, often carry from those encounters. The only woman I will ever want to be with is Stephanie, and I hope that someday she will still consider a relationship with me after all of our history.

"Fight, Babe," I say fervently, squeezing her hand. "Fight to live, and fight for our someday. I love you." I kiss her burning forehead and lean back in my chair, maintaining my vigil.

I send Hector a text, and he arrives a few minutes later with a laptop. "Go pack Steph's bag and look for mold in her apartment now. I don't want to wait if it might help Bobby treat her," I state. Hector stares at Stephanie a long blink before turning on his heel and departing.

The next hour is spent reviewing contract revisions from Pete, approving documents from my accountants, updating the heads of the other Rangeman branches, and writing a letter to all Rangeman employees announcing the change of command. I hear a rap on the door and look up from my work to see Bobby greet a petite African American woman with a curly afro. She's wearing scrubs and greets Bobby with a dimpled smile and hug. I stand and set aside my computer to greet her.

"Hi, I'm Alex. You must be Ranger," she says with a firm handshake. I'm met with the immediate impression this woman has a steel core despite her bubbly exterior. She sets a medium-sized messenger bag on the counter and walks over to look at Steph without waiting for my response.

"Tell me what's going on, Bobby," she says, walking back to her bag and taking out a stethoscope. I take a post against the side wall and listen to the rapid exchange of information, half of it in technical terms I only understand via context. Alex conducts her own exam with Bobby's assistance before they both walk over to me.

"I agree with Dr. Brown's diagnosis. I concur that Stephanie may be mildly septic, but there has been no deterioration in her cognition or level of consciousness or cognition, which is positive. The biggest complication is possible organ failure and septic shock. We mitigate that by monitoring her bloodwork and vital signs and, of course, transport to the hospital if there is any deterioration," Alex states professionally.

"We're going to do an eight on eight off rotation monitoring Bomber," Bobby says, checking his watch. "Alex will start now, and that frees me up for our meetings with Pete and Tank. Should Steph wake up, Hector will be here to keep her from panicking. I've asked Ella to set Alex up with quarters on four."

"Good. Anything you need will be provided," I say, looking at Alex.

"I'll do my best to take care of her," Alex responds with a kind smile. "I can see Stephanie is an important person around here."

There's a knock on the door, and I open it to see a somber Hector. He steps in and closes the door behind him. "I inspected Estefania's apartment. I pulled the appliances away from the wall and inspected the cupboards and behind the baseboards," he starts in Spanish, flipping his phone around to show several photos. I raise my eyebrows at the large patches of black mold Hector found.

"I'm going to direct Ella to wash everything you took from Steph's apartment and discard anything that might have visible mold on it," Bobby says before pursing his lips together. I'm certain Ella will do so but also add in a fair mix of new items. I hope Steph won't protest, because I know giving is how Ella says she cares about people.

"We should also start Steph on Solumedrol, an IV steroid. Some of her respiratory issues could be due to an allergic reaction to her living environment, and I'm not going to wait for her to wake up to do the nebulizer treatment," Alex adds.

"Agreed. Ranger, we have to convince her to move out of there. She can't recover from this in those living conditions," Bobby states. He's right, but the best option is for Steph to reach that conclusion on her own. I'm about to respond when there's another knock on the door. I open it a crack to reveal Lester and Pete.

"Wait in Bobby's office," I direct, and they walk down the hall.

"Hector, Pete, the Rangeman attorney, is here. You're going to complete your portion of the paperwork next door and then remain here with Alex while we have our meeting with Tank. It should go without saying that while the meeting with Tank is important, Stephanie is more important, and you're to contact me immediately if her condition changes," I say firmly, in part to let him know that I am all in, as he advised two days ago.

"Si, jefe," Hector responds, his expression determined and serious before he strides into Bobby's office. (Yes, boss.)

I walk over to Steph and pick up her hand. "I'm going to go save Rangeman now, Babe. I won't be far, and I won't be gone long. Keep fighting, Babe. I love you," I whisper, giving her fingers a squeeze. I give Alex a stern look before striding into Bobby's office. She nods her head once with a tight smile, and I'm not sure if I should be impressed or not that she didn't appear to be scared.

"Let's get this over with," I announce, my blank face slamming into place.

Pete has a stack of documents, and twenty minutes later, the only thing we need is Tank's signature. I follow Hector's back with my eyes as he assumes his post next to Steph. As I force myself to walk out of the room and up the stairs to five, the reality of everything crashes down onto me. My Babe is laying on a bed, struggling for her life, mentally and physically, and I have to leave her to save my company, also fighting for its survival.

Tank betrayed me and everyone and everything I value and stand for. The sooner he is out of the building and my life, the better. I'm sure I'll mourn the loss of my friend at some point, but this is not that time.

Lester, Bobby, and Pete set up in conference room two while I march to Tank's office. "Conference Room Two," I bark.

Tank glances at the clock on his desktop. "That's not going to work for me," he replies dismissively. "I have a remedial PT session to run."

My blood pressure spikes, and I narrow my eyes. "No, Tank. PT is canceled. Conference Room Two, now," I say in a low voice.

Tank sighs dramatically and takes his time locking out his computer before walking towards me and stopping. "Back to this already, Ranger?" he says condescendingly. "You say jump, and I say how high? That's not going to work for me anymore. I've proven myself this past year."

I let my expression be my response. Tank shakes his head in contempt before striding towards the conference room. "This better be good," I hear him mumble under his breath.

I close the door after Tank enters the conference room, and Lester assumes a position guarding it. I watch stoically as Tank looks between the four of us. "What's going on?" he demands.

"Tank, I left you responsible for Rangeman. I've returned to find my company on the brink of bankruptcy with the loss or lack of contract renewal from more than one hundred clients in Trenton alone and in violation of multiple laws, which Pete will be laying out for you. Further, the employees of this company, the people who are the lifeblood of our success, are being abused by your unlawful policies and most are threatening to quit and/or sue. You continue to tell me that you've proven yourself. You certainly have. You've proven yourself to be a man who is blinded by power and mistreats those entrusted to your care; a man who is a grossly incompetent manager and leader, one who willfully ignores facts when it doesn't suit your erroneous perceptions; a man with blind ambitions who ruthlessly and illegally removes any perceived threats. I trusted you, and I thought we shared the same values. I was wrong," I state, just barely reigning in my anger at this situation.

"This is about Stephanie, isn't it?" Tank immediately replies, derision dripping from his voice. "How dare you accuse me of violating Rangeman resources! How much money have you spent saving her ass when she wouldn't do the most basic things to save herself? How many Rangeman employees have risked their lives saving her when she's blown up another car, gotten kidnapped, is being stalked, or acted like the incompetent fuck up she usually is in the field? Do you think I don't know that she's holed up in medical right now? The only reason I allowed it is that it kept you out of my way while I actually run this business for a change. The men of this company love me because I value them for the warriors they are by protecting them from the constant disaster that is Stephanie Plum."

I see red, and I take several long, slow breaths to reign in my raging beast. "Stephanie IS one of us. She is a member of the Rangeman family and every bit a warrior as any one of us. Stephanie possesses honor, courage, valor, commitment, unselfishness, and bravery in levels I only hope to measure up to. She killed a man in self-defense, and you abandoned her, one of our own. You've been quick to forget everything she's selflessly done directly on behalf of this company, including making herself a target during distractions and when she identified the culprits stealing codes from the garage cameras. This is on top of all the cases she directly assisted in solving with research and footwork. More than that, she's the one who volunteered to allow herself to be kidnapped, not once, but TWICE, to save my daughter in addition to being the one to clear my name when I was FTA. In fact, Stephanie is the only person who called assuming I was innocent. Even you thought I was guilty, Tank," I say in a voice that is eerily calm but pointed in its execution.

"You are the coward, Tank, and you are the one who failed everyone in this company," I state, barely able to keep myself from enforcing my words with my fists.

Tank snorts and meets my look with utter contempt. "You are so pussy whipped. This company will fail within the year under your soft ideals of leadership. I'm not a coward; I bravely did the right things when you left to make the men, the real warriors, strong again, and they are grateful to me for it," he spits out with narrowed eyes. It takes every ounce of my famed restraint to push forward with the purpose of the meeting.

"Per the Rangeman charter, the Core Team will now vote whether or not to buy you out of your company shares," I say coldly. "All those in favor say, 'aye.'"

"Aye," Lester barks, and I don't have to look at him to know his fury matches my own.

"Aye," Bobby states angrily, arms crossed over his chest.

"Aye," I say definitively.

Tank looks shocked as he looks between Lester, Bobby, and myself, clearly taken aback by this turn of events. "You don't have the money for that," he starts defensively before abruptly trying another tact. "Okay, I admit it. I may have overstepped with some of my policies, but we can scale it back," he says, but the insincerity is plain. Then, he tries to explain himself. "The men were becoming weak. They were starting to struggle to maintain standards. They figured they could come out to play while the cat was away. I had to reinstate order and standards, which is what I did. I got the men back fit for duty. If it weren't for me and the new policies, the men would be fifteen pounds overweight and unable to fulfill their responsibilities. They are no longer wasting their money on useless comforts. They are able to save money. So much so that several of the men were able to move out of fourth-floor apartments into homes of their own. They are more productive members of society now than they were when you left, Ranger."

I give Tank a long, incredulous stare. "Pete," I say, shaking my head in disbelief at Tank's delusions.

Pete begins to explain the various contracts and terms of the buy-out, and I watch as Tank begins to realize everything he lost. He shifts from disbelief to resignation to anger again in under a minute. "This is all real rich, coming from you of all people, Ranger!" he yells, taking a step towards me. "You want to make ME the bad guy and force ME from a company I helped found and then carried whenever you played Captain America, all because you claim I didn't follow the Goddamned rules? Since when in the holy living FUCK did following protocol ever matter to you? From the first day that Stephanie Walks-On-Water Plum entered your life, when did you do ANYTHING according to protocol? Sure, she did some things that helped the company, but it was at a helluva high cost that you seem to forget whenever it's convenient to you," Tank spits, trembling with fury and his fists clenched at his sides. Both Bobby and Lester have taken slow steps towards us and assumed fighting stances.

"The worst part is, Ranger, that you betrayed our friendship, hell, our brotherhood, all for a gold-digging bitch who has fucked so many men at this point her vagina must gape like the fucking Grand Canyon. No bitch is that good, especially one that's so used up. But you know, I shouldn't be surprised. When have you ever remained loyal to anyone but yourself? Sure, you fucked Rachel, but when a wife and a kid got in the way of your career, you dropped them hard. You fucked Stephanie and even took a bullet and then took a life for her, but you kept pushing her back into Morelli's arms. We all know what kind of a man that loser is, and you're such a self-loathing chickenshit that you preferred lurking after her, being a peeping tom in her bedroom, then make an honorable woman of her. I mean, you jumped off a Goddammed bridge for Christ's sake, but then walked away, seemingly content to have her fucking an asshole. Who does that? But what do I know, Ranger? I'm only your best fucking friend. No, scratch that, I was your best friend, you fucking masochist," Tank spews with vitriol only matched by his volume.

I consider replying, but as I begin choosing my words, Tank marches over to Pete, then picks up the pen to scribble his signature where indicated.

"You're a fool, Ranger, but I'll take your money. Rangeman will be dead within the year without me, and you'll be penniless along with it. So much for your fancy cars and designer suits, and Stephanie, she'll be gone the minute she realizes you have nothing left in your bank account. But for me, I'll be just fine," Tank states arrogantly, rising to his full height.

I glance at Pete, who double checks the contracts before silently affirming everything is in order. On active duty, I learned that the Germans have a word, schadenfreude, with no English equivalent. It means joy felt at another's misfortune. My NATO colleague would use it when referring to the outcomes of some of our missions, but I never understood it until today. "You never did pay enough attention to detail, Tank," I say with a closed lipped grin. "The contracts you just signed places all monies from the buyout of your shares of Rangeman as well as your last years' worth of salaries and bonuses into a holding account until the final payment of all fines and settlements as a result of your illegal policies and practices are calculated," I inform Tank. "If the fines are greater than that amount, you've also agreed to be held personally liable for any excess. If you fail to pay within thirty days, interest will accrue, and we reserve the right to take any case of non-payment to court. In other words, Tank, you not Rangeman will be held accountable, or you will go to jail." I watch Tank intently as I speak, waiting for the moment when he will inevitably snap. I anticipate it the half-second he decides to react.

"You SON OF A BITCH," Tank roars, lunging at me. Lester is on the move immediately, but I easily duck Tank's charge and knock him straight onto his ass, enjoying the sting to my knuckles from what I am sure will be a helluva shiner tomorrow. Lester pins Tank to the ground while I frisk his body for all Rangeman property and any weapons. Bobby is standing by to assist before assuming Lester's previous position near the door.

I stand over Tank and look down at a man I once considered to be a brother. "The only person responsible for the situation you find yourself in is you. Your self-initiated demise began when you turned your back on Stephanie. I will never forgive you for deliberately causing her harm," I state in a low tone, saturated with my fury. I pull back my foot and kick Tank with my full strength. He cries out and struggles against Lester's grip. "How do you like being kicked when you are down?" I question with controlled rage. "How many times did you PAY Vinnie for her injuries?" I push out forcefully, and for the first time, Tank looks genuinely afraid.

I kick Tank again, and he begins to whimper. "That wasn't a rhetorical question," I warn, my arms crossed over my chest.

"Fifty-seven times," Tank snivels, and Lester is trembling against his anger. My beast shakes the cage I contain him in, bending several bars in the process.

"The contract you signed also states that you will pay restitution of one hundred thousand dollars for each occurrence directly to Stephanie. Your confession will be verified. All Rangeman records have already been turned over to an independent forensic accounting firm that is working in cooperation with all manner of three letter agencies. If any illegal activity is uncovered, say embezzling or tax fraud, you have agreed to be held personally liable for those charges," I inform Tank. "You're the penniless fool, Tank, and I will gladly take your money and give it to those who deserve it."

I watch with schadenfreude as the full reality of this moment crashes onto Tank, and shake my head in disgust at the pitiful man laying at my feet.

"Lester will escort you from the building. Your personal effects will be delivered to your house within twenty-four hours. We're done here," I respond harshly before turning and striding out of the room, Bobby behind me.

I want to run back to my Babe, but I know I need to get my temper under control first. I head to the gym instead. Bobby clears Zip and Hal from the space before locking the door and scrambling the cameras. "Alex reports no change in Steph's condition. Get it out, Ranger," he says, and I pull on a pair of boxing gloves before slamming my fist into the bag.

I lose myself in the repetitive fury of the slamming of my gloves and feet, and Tank's words echo mercilessly through my brain. I lose track of time as chicken shit, masochist, and fool rattle around. I want to dismiss them, but Tank's grandstanding, while crude, has elements of truth. I did fail to follow protocol when it came to Stephanie.

Lester steps into my line of sight and holds the bag. I ignore him, continuing my self-flagellation. I know he's trying to talk to me, but I'm too focused on beating Tank's words in or out, I'm not sure which, of my head to pay him any attention. Suddenly, he lets go of the bag, and Bobby and he tackled me to the ground. I struggle against them initially, but I'm not back in full fighting shape from the physical depletion of my last mission, and I give in. They both immediately release me, and I quickly stand and get a cup of water before leaning against the wall to compose myself.

Lester mimics my posture. "Don't do this to yourself, Ranger," he says quietly.

"Do what?" I spit back, my anger finding something to focus on.

"Don't listen to Tank. You'll only make him right, and none of us need that right now," Lester challenges.

"And why not? He's not wrong. All of us know it, and I've even admitted it. I treated Stephanie different than everyone else, and I set everyone up for disaster. I come back from a year away to find my company in ruins, Steph near death in both body and soul, and friendships irrevocably fractured. I am partially responsible for this, and I won't pretend otherwise, so don't you dare say it's not my fault or some other Good Will Hunting bullshit," I reply acerbically.

"You're right, some of this is your fault," Lester replies evenly. "And by that measure, some of it is mine, Bobby's, and even Stephanie's. You can't heap the blame of the world all upon yourself; there's enough to go around. However, Tank's decisions to break the law in his quest to retain the throne, as it were, have nothing to do with you. He is the one who chose not to become the head of one of the other Rangeman branches, and we both know it was because he was too lazy and comfy here in New Jersey to get off his large ass and move. Once he realized we weren't going anywhere, he became bitter, and that bitterness festered and blacked his heart against us. Stephanie became his target of blame because blaming her was easier than taking a hard look at his choices."

I listen to Lester silently, his words gaining traction in my troubled mind.

"You and Stephanie have more in common than you realize," Lester continues. "Tank got the commonalities wrong, however. You guys aren't self-loathing. You're self-deprecating, disparaging even, and it needs to end. You are both inclined to think you have to reach some level of redemption before being worthy, whatever the fuck that means. When Stephanie came along, I saw you start to realize that, or at least realize that you wanted to love and be loved again. I think that you've already turned this corner, and I think that's why you put in your papers. I'll be honest. There were a few years there where I thought you were taking missions with the intent of never coming home, dying the decorated hero. It was Beautiful's light that was the change you needed, we all needed, to get out of that mindset.

"You know this. I know you do. Put the past behind you. Consider outing Tank your day of redemption, if you have to, and learn from this. But above all, move forward, eyes on the prize. Stephanie needs you, Bobby and I need you, Julie needs you, and Rangeman needs you. We need you leading us, and you can't effectively do that letting Tank wage psychological warfare in your head," Lester says, making his case.

I turn my head and give Lester a long stare before shifting my gaze to Bobby, and his expression does the talking for him, he's right written all over his face.

I look down again. I should have done things differently when it came to Steph, but then, what else of our history would have been rewritten? No one can ever know. If I live in the past, I miss the present, and I cannot strategize my future. I do know this, but Tank's poisonous words, coming from a man who was once so close to me, cut deeper than I want to admit. The best I can do from here on out is refuse to be the man he thinks I am. I need to live.

I turn and give Lester a brotherly embrace, patting his back with my fist before doing the same to Bobby. I pick up my cup and throw it in the trash before striding towards the door. "Clean up and meet me outside medical in fifteen," I say, turning back towards them slightly. "Thank you."

A/N: I'm sorry for posting this later than my usual schedule, and thank you for your patience. I'm traveling this week, and my time is not my own. Additionally, I will confess to having some anxiety about this chapter, and it's fed into my reluctance to hit the final post button. I've rewritten it at least five times, each time adding and revising a little more. I'd appreciate hearing your reactions.

I again have two terrific contributors to this chapter. My beta, misty23y, was a tremendous help with my back and forth on this chapter, even after the initial posting of this chapter. Melyons offered excellent medical advice, ranging from the language of the diagnosis to the medications that would be administered to proper procedures. She gave this and several future chapters technical credibility. Thank you, Babes!

EDIT: Grammer