Author's note:

This story is fully outlined and will be five chapters (possibly six depending on how long the last chapter is). The main characters will be Ranger and Stephanie and the story will include both of their POVs. Joe and Lester are supporting characters. The first chapter is mostly introspective but we do see Ranger's view of his life so far.

Chapter 1 - Tuesday

Ranger slipped his keys into the left front pocket of his black cargo pants and jogged up the stairs. Client calls were not his favorite thing but if it meant keeping a good account, he'd do it personally. The high of returning to the office with a crisis averted almost made up for the chaos it had made of his schedule.

Arriving at the fifth floor, he stepped into the low buzz of activity that was the control room during the day. As he crossed the floor to his office, his gaze flicked around the room, automatically cataloging movements and assessing risk.

Cal and Manny passed him, heading out. Lester and Slick had been just behind him on the stairs, heading in. Manny, Zip, and Woody were on monitors. Binky, Chet, and Zero were in their cubicles, involved in paperwork. Nothing out of the ordinary. Threat level - low.

He nodded in greeting to each man he passed, his steps never slowing. There was a pile of paperwork waiting on his desk, too. It was just past 11:00 a.m. That gave him 45 minutes to make a dent in the pile before Les Sebring arrived. Sebring's appointment was at noon, but the man had been ten minutes early for every appointment since they'd met.

After pulling the chair out from his desk, he sat while simultaneously turning on his computer. Much of his pile was actually digital but there was an untidy stack of envelopes and documents covering his keyboard. When he pushed it aside in order to log in, the layers slid apart. Amongst the interoffice envelopes, file folders, and standard #10 mailing envelopes, there was one envelope that stood out.

Light blue in color and about 5 inches by 7 inches, it had a floral postage stamp fixed to the corner and his sister's handwriting across the front. He didn't have to check the calendar to know the card was a couple of days early. Celia had always been very good at remembering birthdays, even if you didn't want to remember them yourself.

Unmoving, he stared at it. Every year he was more reluctant to acknowledge the passing of time. He didn't need a card or a cake to tell him he was getting older. His body did that for him.

In order to do his job well - where "well" was defined as "without getting injured, maimed, or killed" - he had to be at his absolute physical peak. He was careful, even regimented, with his diet. Every day, he worked on physical conditioning. Every day, he sparred, hit the gun range, honed his skills. But not even the most elite of special forces soldiers could fight Father Time.

Bruises showed up sooner and lingered longer. Muscles strained more easily and recovery was more difficult. And indulging in sweets or high calorie foods? Not something he could do very often anymore. What was it that Mama always said? A moment on the lips, forever on the hips? Granted it wasn't his hips that the fat went to but his belly, but the sentiment was the same.

Two days from now he would be 34. Thirty. Four. In some ways it was hard to imagine. Had it really been twenty years since he had boosted that Chevelle? Twenty years since the first pivotal event in his life?

There was no doubt that had it not been for his parents' intervention and the tough love of his Abuela Rosa, he would have lived a short violent life as a gang-banger. He still wasn't sure how he'd gotten pulled in to begin with. Those years in Miami with Abuela were hard. As a new kid - isolated, homesick, and desperate to fit in - it was easy to fall into the same bad crowd for quick acceptance. But every time he strayed from the right path, the sting of Abuela's fiercely wielded house slipper and sharp words would put him back on course.

He tried to follow the plan that his family laid out for him. He finished high school with good enough grades and test scores to go to Rutgers. The course work was easy for him, and he was relieved to be back home in New Jersey, but there was no excitement. Nothing to look forward to. By the second semester, he realized that what he liked about the gang life was the thrill of taking a risk. College was safe. His business degree would be safe. Ranger didn't want to be safe. He spent two dull agonizing years at Rutgers before taking his own path.

Finding a socially acceptable outlet for his need for action and adrenaline was easy. Lester, of all people, had shown him the way. Telling his parents about it was hard. Mamá cried when he told her that he had dropped out of college to enlist in the army. Papá looked resigned. At least neither of them seemed disappointed in him. Abuela Rosa, who had moved back to New Jersey when he did, merely nodded, said "Bueno", and gave him a hug.

Now, here he was, twenty years later, feeling like he had little to show for two decades of living. Sure, he had a thriving company. He also had a box full of medals, most of which he couldn't talk about. An ex-wife from a marriage he'd never planned on. A daughter he didn't raise and was only just getting to know. Less than a handful of friends, one of whom was his cousin. And a big empty apartment all to himself.

With a mental sigh, he reached for the envelope. He pulled the letter opener out of the top drawer of his desk and slit it open. The front of the card had a silly-looking drawing of a man holding a colorful box in both hands. The lid was off showing that it was empty. The man had a surprised expression as he looked inside. Around him were the words "Brother, when I asked what you wanted for your birthday this year, you said 'Nothing' so … "

Ranger flipped the card open. On the right side, the sentence finished with " … you're lucky you got this card! Besides, being related to me is the only gift you'll ever need!"

On the left side, was a handwritten note. "May your birthday wishes all come true! Love, Celia p.s. Mamá is expecting you for dinner Saturday. She's making her cake! p.p.s. Mamá is still hoping you'll finally bring Stephanie!"

He closed the card and stared at the cartoon on the front. The empty box was the perfect symbol of what he had to offer Stephanie. Nothing.

Yeah, it was her figure that had caught his eye when they first met in the diner a few years ago. But it was her tenacity, her kindness, and her unflagging optimism that caught his heart. He tried to distance himself from her for his benefit and hers. He'd warned her that he wasn't relationship material. He still had almost a year left on his military contract. He never knew when he'd be called up or how long he'd be gone. They could wait until the last day of the contract and send him off on a three year away mission and he'd have to go. How could he ask any woman to put up with that?

Even without the military to contend with, he was in a dangerous field with no set hours. Not to mention the contract work he and his company did with the alphabet agencies. The constant disappointment of missed dinners, missed holidays, unexpected time away, was stressful for both people in a relationship. He knew the statistics for divorce among soldiers, first responders, police, and the like.

She already had one divorce that still pricked at her self-esteem. How could he say he loved her if he condemned her to another?

Even worse - what if he left her a widow? Chasing skips. Infiltrating criminal organizations. Taking down gun runners, drug distribution networks, and domestic terror cells. This was dangerous violent work with a high mortality rate for those involved.

And yet … every year he wanted her more. Every year it was harder to stay away. The ten days they'd spent in Hawaii was like a slice of heaven. No interruptions. No phone calls, no pagers beeping. No reminders of the real world waiting for them in New Jersey. It felt so good to be with her, to openly love her and have her respond in kind. It felt so natural and perfect that he'd forgotten it wasn't real until Morelli showed up, like a turd in a punch bowl.

Now that he'd had a taste of what being with Stephanie was like, it was torture to go without. Lester told him that she and the cop were off again. Something about an argument over him throwing out the peanut butter and olives that she'd brought to his house.

Ranger read his sister's note again. Thought about his military contract nearing its end. Thought about how Stephanie's body felt against his and how very much he wanted that again and forever.

Maybe birthday wishes could come true. He wouldn't know unless he tried.

To be continued -