I do not own any of these characters, although I would really like to meet
up with Ranger in a dark room somewhere. I simply borrow and gently use
them for my amusement.
Chapter Three Batman Can Cook
To my immense relief, we met no one on the way up to my apartment. Ranger, my keys still in his hand from the ride, went into bodyguard mode. He removed his Glock from the waistband of his pants, pushed me to the side of the doorway, and slowly opened the door. After a quick search, more from habit than a real threat right now, Ranger re-appeared in the doorway and pulled me inside.
He had only been gone a few minutes, but that was long enough for me to start to fall apart again. My heart pounded in my ears and the tears started flowing again. I was sure all this crying, especially over his rival (there really was no other way to say it), was making him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Ranger, I just can't seem to help myself..."
"Babe." He just pulled me into another embrace until the tears slowed to a trickle and then stopped. "Don't apologize. You've going through a very traumatic event." He pulled my chin up so that I was looking him in the eye. "You're doing better than I thought you would be."
Better than he thought I would be? I was a mess! The need for a reply was negated by the phone. The sudden sound made me jump, and the thought of who it could be made my stomach flip. I didn't think that I could talk to anyone right now.
Ranger sensed my reluctance. "Don't answer it. Let the machine get it."
"It could be my mother-"I started, before he cut me off.
"All the more reason not to answer it."
I sighed shakily. "Yeah, you're right." We let it ring, heard the machine pick it up in the kitchen, and didn't recognize the voice. I started in to listen more closely, but Ranger redirected me to the new, death cootie-less sofa and made me sit down.
He pulled the afghan from the arm, unfolded it, and wrapped it around me. "Did you eat anything before you started drinking?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Just some peanuts. But I'm not hungry."
"Hungry or not, you need to eat something."
Ranger was playing nurse maid? "There's some olives in the fridge." I hadn't been food shopping lately, and the bare larder was more bare than usual.
"I meant, you need to eat some real food." He made his way into the kitchen, and I could hear cabinets being opened and closed and beer bottles on the refrigerator door rattled. There was some low muttering, and then Ranger reappeared in the door way. "You really need to learn something about cooking. There isn't even a can of soup out there."
"Then I guess I don't have to eat." I drew the afghan closer around me and curled into a ball on the sofa. I hadn't felt like eating, anyway.
Ranger made his soundless way across the room and knelt down by the sofa. "Tank is bringing over some groceries. He should be here in a half-hour or so. Why don't you rest until he gets here?" Ranger reached out and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my right ear.
"Okay." I didn't move, nor did Ranger. I lay there, staring off into space and trying not to think of anything at all. It worked for a few minutes, until the events of the night started going through my head like a highlights reel. When it got back to the realization that Morelli was dead, the tears started again and a deep pain filled me.
Morelli and I had been dancing in overlapping circles for years, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away, sometimes on the same path. We had never really talked a great deal about our feelings for each other, letting actions- and arguments- show the emotions. Talking about feelings just wasn't part of the relationship mix. That didn't mean that they weren't there, and that we hadn't cared about each other. Joe wouldn't have been such a pain in the ass about me being a bounty hunter if her hadn't loved me and worried about me. He had told me, in strained times, when we were at a distance, that he loved me.
Now he was gone, and the fact that he loved me only made it worse. I, too, had loved him. There were times when I had told him so, but not anytime recently. No matter the state of our relationship, the love was always there. If we had been more mature, less stubborn, less Burg, maybe we would have been able to make that enough to overcome the differences.
Now we would never know, and I was left with regret and what might have been.
That, I think, was the worst part. I would never know what life with him would have been like, if we had gotten married, if we had had children, what it would have been like to grow old with him. I hadn't just lost Joe- I had also lost a part of myself, and a future that I had wanted more than I realized at the time.
The speed and clarity of my mind amazed me. I had come to this epiphany about my relationship with Joe just before there was a knock on the door.
Ranger pulled his gun and went to look out the peep-hole; he never felt safe with the security in my apartment. One glance, and the gun was holstered and he had the door open. Tank towered in the door frame, two brown grocery bags gripped in one arm. He barely glanced at me beyond a sympathetic nod. Ranger took the bags wordlessly, along with a leather duffle bag, and shut the door on Tank's retreating back. He left the duffle beside the door, and headed into the kitchen with the other bags.
I couldn't even dredge up the energy to see what food Tank had brought. I wasn't even curious about the leather duffle bag. I continued to lay on the sofa, letting the comforting sounds of food being put away and prepared wash over me. It was entirely alien to my apartment, yet amazingly comforting. Ten minutes later, and Ranger came out of my kitchen with a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. He put them on the coffee table in front of me. "Eat."
"Wow. You cook?" Grilled cheese was a gourmet meal with my cooking skills.
Ranger shook his head, a slight upturn on his mouth indicating that he thought this was humorous. "This is not cooking. This is heating up. But yes, Batman can cook." There was a sense of slight humor in his voice when he referred to himself as Batman.
"As honored as I am to have a superhero for a cook," I regretfully shook my head, "I'm just not hungry."
It was Ranger's turn to shake his head. He crossed his arms and stood over me warily. "Don't argue. Just eat it. Trust me."
I was in no shape to try to out-stubborn him, so I shifted my position and reached for the sandwich plate. The bread was perfect, crunchy yet greasy, and the cheese had melted all the way through. Under other circumstances, I would have been very complimentary. At present, I just grunted and said "Good." Once the sandwich was gone, I spooned my way through the soup and then sat there, staring at the wall.
I guess Ranger found the silence, which hadn't bothered me, uncomfortable, because he cleared his throat and spoke. "I don't think that you should be alone tonight. Is there someone you want me to call to come over? Mary Lou? Your mom?" He grimaced slightly when adding, "Your grandmother?"
I thought about it for a minute. "No, I don't want to talk to anyone right now. Talking to them will only make me feel worse."
"Is there something else that I can do for you, then?" Ranger's eyes held an unaccustomed brightness.
I felt funny asking, but for some reason laconic Ranger was the perfect person to have around me this first night of grief. I knew he wouldn't pressure me to talk, and he wouldn't fill the silence with platitudes trying to make me feel better. But I thought that he might feel a little funny being around me in this Morelli-induced state. I didn't know for sure what he was feeling, but even in my despair I had some regard for him. "Are you doing anything tonight, Ranger?"
Ranger scrutinized my face, as if to see if he could fathom what was going on under all that tall hair and bravado. "Nothing that can't wait, Babe, if you want it to. But think about this before you ask me."
His response made me a bit cranky. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me, for Christ's sake!"
Ranger stiffened. "I never thought you were. I simply think you ought to consider the Burg gossips when you ask. What will Grandma Bella say if she finds out that I spent the night in your apartment before her grandson was even cold?"
His phrasing was harsh, and drove his point home. But quite frankly, I didn't care. I had loved, Morelli, Morelli had loved me, and Morelli was dead. I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want to be with my family. I just needed to be around someone who would respect my feelings and understand without asking. "She'll be glad that you watched over me, so that I didn't do anything stupid in my state, like try to eat my own cooking. If it will make you feel better, I'll call my mother and let her know."
"She'll assume the worst as well." Ranger flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders. "I want to help you, not hurt you. It's your call."
"Than it's settled. I need to make some phone calls, but you'll stay here tonight?" My voice went up a notch or two, showing the emotional strain I was under. "I don't want to be alone. I'll just keep thinking about Joe being-"my breath caught in my throat in an odd hiccup- "dead."
Ranger nodded. "I'm here for you, Babe." Then he went to get me the phone.
Chapter Three Batman Can Cook
To my immense relief, we met no one on the way up to my apartment. Ranger, my keys still in his hand from the ride, went into bodyguard mode. He removed his Glock from the waistband of his pants, pushed me to the side of the doorway, and slowly opened the door. After a quick search, more from habit than a real threat right now, Ranger re-appeared in the doorway and pulled me inside.
He had only been gone a few minutes, but that was long enough for me to start to fall apart again. My heart pounded in my ears and the tears started flowing again. I was sure all this crying, especially over his rival (there really was no other way to say it), was making him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Ranger, I just can't seem to help myself..."
"Babe." He just pulled me into another embrace until the tears slowed to a trickle and then stopped. "Don't apologize. You've going through a very traumatic event." He pulled my chin up so that I was looking him in the eye. "You're doing better than I thought you would be."
Better than he thought I would be? I was a mess! The need for a reply was negated by the phone. The sudden sound made me jump, and the thought of who it could be made my stomach flip. I didn't think that I could talk to anyone right now.
Ranger sensed my reluctance. "Don't answer it. Let the machine get it."
"It could be my mother-"I started, before he cut me off.
"All the more reason not to answer it."
I sighed shakily. "Yeah, you're right." We let it ring, heard the machine pick it up in the kitchen, and didn't recognize the voice. I started in to listen more closely, but Ranger redirected me to the new, death cootie-less sofa and made me sit down.
He pulled the afghan from the arm, unfolded it, and wrapped it around me. "Did you eat anything before you started drinking?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Just some peanuts. But I'm not hungry."
"Hungry or not, you need to eat something."
Ranger was playing nurse maid? "There's some olives in the fridge." I hadn't been food shopping lately, and the bare larder was more bare than usual.
"I meant, you need to eat some real food." He made his way into the kitchen, and I could hear cabinets being opened and closed and beer bottles on the refrigerator door rattled. There was some low muttering, and then Ranger reappeared in the door way. "You really need to learn something about cooking. There isn't even a can of soup out there."
"Then I guess I don't have to eat." I drew the afghan closer around me and curled into a ball on the sofa. I hadn't felt like eating, anyway.
Ranger made his soundless way across the room and knelt down by the sofa. "Tank is bringing over some groceries. He should be here in a half-hour or so. Why don't you rest until he gets here?" Ranger reached out and tucked a stray wisp of hair behind my right ear.
"Okay." I didn't move, nor did Ranger. I lay there, staring off into space and trying not to think of anything at all. It worked for a few minutes, until the events of the night started going through my head like a highlights reel. When it got back to the realization that Morelli was dead, the tears started again and a deep pain filled me.
Morelli and I had been dancing in overlapping circles for years, sometimes closer, sometimes farther away, sometimes on the same path. We had never really talked a great deal about our feelings for each other, letting actions- and arguments- show the emotions. Talking about feelings just wasn't part of the relationship mix. That didn't mean that they weren't there, and that we hadn't cared about each other. Joe wouldn't have been such a pain in the ass about me being a bounty hunter if her hadn't loved me and worried about me. He had told me, in strained times, when we were at a distance, that he loved me.
Now he was gone, and the fact that he loved me only made it worse. I, too, had loved him. There were times when I had told him so, but not anytime recently. No matter the state of our relationship, the love was always there. If we had been more mature, less stubborn, less Burg, maybe we would have been able to make that enough to overcome the differences.
Now we would never know, and I was left with regret and what might have been.
That, I think, was the worst part. I would never know what life with him would have been like, if we had gotten married, if we had had children, what it would have been like to grow old with him. I hadn't just lost Joe- I had also lost a part of myself, and a future that I had wanted more than I realized at the time.
The speed and clarity of my mind amazed me. I had come to this epiphany about my relationship with Joe just before there was a knock on the door.
Ranger pulled his gun and went to look out the peep-hole; he never felt safe with the security in my apartment. One glance, and the gun was holstered and he had the door open. Tank towered in the door frame, two brown grocery bags gripped in one arm. He barely glanced at me beyond a sympathetic nod. Ranger took the bags wordlessly, along with a leather duffle bag, and shut the door on Tank's retreating back. He left the duffle beside the door, and headed into the kitchen with the other bags.
I couldn't even dredge up the energy to see what food Tank had brought. I wasn't even curious about the leather duffle bag. I continued to lay on the sofa, letting the comforting sounds of food being put away and prepared wash over me. It was entirely alien to my apartment, yet amazingly comforting. Ten minutes later, and Ranger came out of my kitchen with a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup. He put them on the coffee table in front of me. "Eat."
"Wow. You cook?" Grilled cheese was a gourmet meal with my cooking skills.
Ranger shook his head, a slight upturn on his mouth indicating that he thought this was humorous. "This is not cooking. This is heating up. But yes, Batman can cook." There was a sense of slight humor in his voice when he referred to himself as Batman.
"As honored as I am to have a superhero for a cook," I regretfully shook my head, "I'm just not hungry."
It was Ranger's turn to shake his head. He crossed his arms and stood over me warily. "Don't argue. Just eat it. Trust me."
I was in no shape to try to out-stubborn him, so I shifted my position and reached for the sandwich plate. The bread was perfect, crunchy yet greasy, and the cheese had melted all the way through. Under other circumstances, I would have been very complimentary. At present, I just grunted and said "Good." Once the sandwich was gone, I spooned my way through the soup and then sat there, staring at the wall.
I guess Ranger found the silence, which hadn't bothered me, uncomfortable, because he cleared his throat and spoke. "I don't think that you should be alone tonight. Is there someone you want me to call to come over? Mary Lou? Your mom?" He grimaced slightly when adding, "Your grandmother?"
I thought about it for a minute. "No, I don't want to talk to anyone right now. Talking to them will only make me feel worse."
"Is there something else that I can do for you, then?" Ranger's eyes held an unaccustomed brightness.
I felt funny asking, but for some reason laconic Ranger was the perfect person to have around me this first night of grief. I knew he wouldn't pressure me to talk, and he wouldn't fill the silence with platitudes trying to make me feel better. But I thought that he might feel a little funny being around me in this Morelli-induced state. I didn't know for sure what he was feeling, but even in my despair I had some regard for him. "Are you doing anything tonight, Ranger?"
Ranger scrutinized my face, as if to see if he could fathom what was going on under all that tall hair and bravado. "Nothing that can't wait, Babe, if you want it to. But think about this before you ask me."
His response made me a bit cranky. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me, for Christ's sake!"
Ranger stiffened. "I never thought you were. I simply think you ought to consider the Burg gossips when you ask. What will Grandma Bella say if she finds out that I spent the night in your apartment before her grandson was even cold?"
His phrasing was harsh, and drove his point home. But quite frankly, I didn't care. I had loved, Morelli, Morelli had loved me, and Morelli was dead. I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want to be with my family. I just needed to be around someone who would respect my feelings and understand without asking. "She'll be glad that you watched over me, so that I didn't do anything stupid in my state, like try to eat my own cooking. If it will make you feel better, I'll call my mother and let her know."
"She'll assume the worst as well." Ranger flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders. "I want to help you, not hurt you. It's your call."
"Than it's settled. I need to make some phone calls, but you'll stay here tonight?" My voice went up a notch or two, showing the emotional strain I was under. "I don't want to be alone. I'll just keep thinking about Joe being-"my breath caught in my throat in an odd hiccup- "dead."
Ranger nodded. "I'm here for you, Babe." Then he went to get me the phone.