Note: Thank you everyone for all the helpful comments, reviews, etc. Please keep 'em coming!

k4writer02: Thank you! Wow, the first JE fanfic? Try www.plumcrazy.ws if you want a huuge selection or the Yahoo groups. Warning: Plum fanfics are addicting. As for the teddy bear of mysterious origins... I'll think about it. ;)

zoeykitty: here you go! thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich still owns all this stuff. Well, except maybe the original characters, but I'm sure we could work out a deal on them. Like, say, all of them for Ranger? Ok, Lester. How about that? Or Tank?

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Chapter 7

Deering's island had been a false lead. Deserted. The pilot of the chartered flight had seen a seaplane waiting for his passenger, but hadn't seen any identification on it. The entire case had stalled and the future wasn't looking bright. As far as the 'Burg was concerned Stephanie was in Miami working undercover for RangeMan and Haley's family thought the girl was on a trip to France with her longtime best friend Erin, who Dominic had called on to help keep the ruse.

Dante had spent the last two months leading a team of Ranger's best hackers through the mountains of financial transactions and histories of both Charles Deering and Alec Masters. The rest of Dom's team had headed back to St. Louis to spend that time combing the streets, calling informants, occasionally beating bits of information out of those reluctant to talk. Ranger, Lester, and Tank were doing a similar routine in Trenton, but keeping as low a profile as possible.

The picture they were getting wasn't pretty and what information they had found was not something to discuss in a vid-conference.

Ranger looked at the clock on the wall. They should be arriving in about half an hour. His eyes came to rest on the stack of files Dante had left with him before he returned his attention to the computer screen. Lester's brother Enrique had called a month ago to check in and to ask Les if the 'Bombshell Bounty Hunter' was doing overseas work for RangeMan now. He was working as head of security for a rich guy in the Caribbean, and one of the chicks he was guarding looked just like her. At Lester's request he'd sent a couple surveillance photos for evidence.

Les had been on a plane within an hour, but it had taken several weeks to arrange how to get to the island without being noticed. Now Lester's report was sitting in front of him, and the tiniest part of Ranger's mind almost wished it wasn't. Almost. Ranger scanned the file again and fought the urge to send the computer crashing through the window. He could still remember the relief he'd felt when he saw the pictures of Stephanie and Haley- it had nearly knocked him off his feet:

That had been a month or more ago. Now the relief was quickly being replaced with a sick feeling of dread, the feeling that had been consuming him since Stephanie disappeared, since this whole fucked up mess started. The source of the feeling were the photos accompanying the report, which were more detailed and better quality than the routine surveillance footage they'd had before. Looking over them though, the urge to shred them was making his hands itch. Instead he forced himself to look closer. Stephanie was thinner, and she somehow just looked smaller, younger. It made the similarity between her and Haley even more pronounced, to the point that they could have been mistaken for twins. The thing that got him was in her eyes- limpid and cool, with only the barest hint of the sparkle he'd cherished in his Babe. Serena Darling was staring up at him through Steph's bright blue eyes.

Unable to look at Stephanie any longer knowing what was in Lester's report, and seeing the proof in the pictures, he turned his attention to Haley. She had always looked young and a little vulnerable, had always been a little thin. Again, it was her eyes that showed the problem. There was a disturbingly empty quality to Haley. Ranger turned the pictures face down and closed his eyes against the images still burned into his retinas, fighting to push the words from the report out of his head.

He thought of his nephew. Dom had held up well the last couple of months, putting on a very good show, but Ranger knew what was going on behind that mask. How would he handle the report? Ranger sighed and put his head in his hands. How would he handle it if it were Steph that had stopped understanding reality? And who could say she hadn't- that Steph wasn't just as lost as Haley?

There wasn't time for this now. Not when they were so close to the end. He stood up and headed down the hall to the meeting room, files in hand.

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"Uncle Ric," Dominic said with the ghost of a smile. "Any news?"

Ranger held his face still and emotionless. "Yes. You?"

Dom gave a barely perceptible nod. "Just background."

"Old business first," Bobby suggested. Ranger inclined his head, giving his nephew permission to start. Dom looked resigned.

"You all know Dante and his guys found out Deering and Masters partnered up about three years ago," he began. "Actually it was just before he started dating Haley. It was also not long before Jeanette, the first of Deering's girlfriends, started showing signs of her mental breakdown.

"It doesn't take a lot of intel to figure out why a drug dealer and a soon-to-graduate chemistry major would buddy up, but the word on the street has been that they're not just in it for narcotics... " Dom paused and picked up a file, handing it to Ranger. "This is from Deering's psychiatrist. He has control issues, a perfectionist streak, a fucking bad temper and a recent hang up on finding the perfect companion. Apparently midlife crisis has hit and he wants the whole Pleasantville life."

Ranger handed the file to Bobby and looked back at his nephew. "And he decided to make a perfect companion?" he ventured, remembering the photos.

"That's what we're guessing. He's apparently designed some fairly powerful drugs that affect the parts of the brain that store memory. In combination with something to lower aggression, antidepressants, tranquilizers..." the young man shrugged. "Kind of a Stepford cocktail."

"Creepy," Tank muttered, which seemed to sum up the feelings of the entire group.

Ranger gave the guys a few minutes to digest the information, which backed up everything Lester had sent so far, before passing out copies of the report. "Lester sent this in a few hours ago. It would appear we have them." They guys were staring at him warily, unwilling to risk getting excited over another false lead. None of them were opening the files.

"What's the catch?" Bobby asked. He knew Ranger, knew something had to be seriously wrong for news this big to be presented so quietly. If they really had a strong lead, there would have been a lot more joy, and Ric would have been looking a hell of a lot happier.

Ranger glanced at his nephew before replying. Dom's eyes were darkened and narrowed, wary of what was coming. He looked back at Bobby. "Deering's techniques seem to be working." He flipped open the laptop in front of him, and pushed a few buttons. A projection hit the wall in front of the table. "Guys, meet Serena and Alia Darling," he said, purposefully keeping himself from really seeing the pictures again. He knew what they looked like.

"It's Stephanie and Haley," Dante said and looked back at his boss, obviously confused. Ranger nodded.

"Correct. Deering's apparently found out a way not only to repress, but also rearrange memories, creating entirely new identities. You'll find profiles of both of them in your files. Memorize them. When we go in, we'll be dealing with Serena and Alia." He looked around to make sure this was understood. "Stephanie and Haley might have been kidnapped and held hostage, but as far as Serena and Alia are concerned the island is their home, Deering is their benefactor. So be prepared for resistance on their parts." He pushed a button, revealing a schematic of the island.

"Alec hired Enrique Santos as head of security a couple months ago, and he's working with us on this. These are the maps he's provided. There's also full blue prints of the main house, outbuildings, security codes, and locations of cameras are marked in red."

"We gonna get to blow anything up?" Tank asked, already studying the maps intently.

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Enrique sat in his apartment pouring over the plans and maps scattered across the table, his brother sitting opposite him as they discussed the situation quietly, using both Portuguese and English. The knock on the door sent both men leaping to their feet, guns in hand..

Enrique waved his brother back into the bedroom, and stalked toward the door. "Who is it?" he called, releasing the safety on the gun. No reply. He scowled and checked the peephole. Alia stood outside the door, clutching what looked suspiciously like a teddy bear. Just when this day couldn't get any fucking weirder... he replaced the safety and slid the gun into the back of his pants before opening the door. "Can I help you?" he asked, trying not to sound annoyed. She bit her lower lip and hesitated before speaking.

"Can I come in?" she asked meekly. He noticed with a start that her cobalt blue eyes were rimmed in red and her cheeks were still wet with tears. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and pulled her inside.

"What's wrong?" he asked, placing a hand at the small of her back to direct her to the sofa.

"I shouldn't have come..." her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but she sank onto the overstuffed cushions.

"You're here, though," he said gently. "Do you want something to drink?" She shook her head, and toyed with one of the teddy bear's fluffy brown ears. "Alia? Not that I'm not happy to see you, but it's the middle of the night, and..." a thought occurred to him, "Did you get lost?"

"Lost..." she echoed. "Yes, you could call it that...."

Christ. She was having another episode. He sighed heavily. "Who am I?" he asked, his eyes flicking back to the door to his room, knowing his brother to be hidden in the shadows. Alia quirked an eyebrow at him.

"That's the second time you've asked me that, Don Ricardo," she said quietly. He shook his head; at least she was consistent... "Or is it the first?" she asked, her eyes clouding over, filling with tears. He blinked, surprised at that. She was having memory problems, maybe?

"No, it's not the first," he reassured her. "You were right. I asked you earlier," he said quickly. He watched the relief wash over her, but then she curled up, her hold on the bear tightening.

"I can't tell sometimes," she said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I think I've done something before but I haven't... I have all these memories," she stressed the word, "but they never happened. I know people I've never met. I can't tell it all apart ... Sometimes it's all so real and then I wake up and it was only a dream, or I feel like I'm dreaming but it's real..." her voice caught on a sob as the dam broke, the tears beginning to stream down her face.

"Shit," Enrique cursed, and dashed to the bathroom, retrieving a box of tissues. He handed it to the sobbing girl on the couch, before placing his gun on the coffee table. He sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her slender shoulders. "You're awake now, I promise."

"I t-told you I shouldn't have c-come," she choked out between sobs. Almost reflexively he held her tighter.

"No. It's fine... but why did you? Shouldn't you talk to somebody about this? Maybe your sister?" he said hopefully, glancing at the bedroom where Lester was hidden. Alia made a sound that might have been a laugh.

"Serena thinks we're dead," she said, her voice surprisingly bitter. He hadn't thought she was even capable of that emotion. But her revelation was even weirder. And here he'd thought Alia was the crazy one...

"Alia, what are you talking about?" He glanced again at the door to the bedroom, wondering what Les was thinking about this conversation.

"She doesn't say it really," she admitted, wiping a few tears away. "But she's always talking about how wonderful it is here, how heavenly. She thinks we live in Paradise. Our own slice of Heaven. But you have to be dead for that, don't you?" she sobbed. She raised her eyes to his, and there was desperation in them.

"I'm sure she's not being literal," Rico said gently. "She's just meaning that she likes it here."

Alia sniffled, wiping her cheeks with a tissue. "The Dragon King hath her in thrall," she said softly, her voice raw. He shook his head a little, regarding the girl beside him curiously.

"Why come to me, princess? I'm a stranger here," he prodded when she remained silent.

"You... remind me of someone," she looked at him through the tears. "I think I met him once, somewhere else. He made me laugh." The tears coming more slowly now.

"Do you remember his name?"

"He was a knight, I think. Like you. Maybe his name was Lancelot..." she smiled faintly. He smiled back at her.

"Probably not," he said. She laughed at that.

"No, probably not. But it's a good name for a knight," she said with a shrug. He hugged her again, relieved to be done with the crying jag. Crying females made him nervous. Bullets, explosions, knife fights- all of these things were easier to deal with than one small female in tears.

"I'll be right back," he said, and headed back to the bathroom.

He came back carrying a damp washcloth, which he handed to her. She smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," she whispered, placing it over her eyes and laying back against the armrest. Several minutes passed in silence, until he wondered if she had fallen asleep. He was about to wake her when she took the cloth off her face.

Her blue eyes were unreadable as she looked up at him. "Just one more question, and I'll go."

"Shoot," he said, watching her closely.

"Who am I?" she asked. He sat back, surprised at the directness. Now wasn't the right time for the truth, so...

"Yourself," he replied after a moment of thought. Her eyes narrowed then her lips quirked in a half smile.

"You are about as helpful as a Unicorn," she said resignedly. Somehow it didn't sound like a compliment. He smiled.

"Who did you mean earlier, when you mentioned the Dragon King?"

She tilted her head, looking at him curiously. "Do you know not who is lord and master in this place?" she said, sounding as if she were reciting the line. "Who else would rule an island of dreams and illusions?"

"Deering, then."

Alia smiled faintly and swung her feet to the floor, springing easily to her feet. She bowed her head graciously. "Thank you for your hospitality and the friendly ear, Don Ricardo. I'll leave you to your rest now."

"I'll walk you back to your room.". After a moment he added, "I'm here whenever you need to talk." She nodded again, then turned and walked through the door.

The walk to her apartment was a silent one. Alia was so exhausted she looked almost asleep on her feet, and Enrique was busy with his own thoughts. Back in his rooms, he found Lester seated on the couch, a large glass of brandy in hand. Enrique raised an eyebrow.

"I needed a drink," his brother said. "She's totally lost the whole concept of reality. That was the most fucked up conversation I have ever heard..."

Enrique shrugged. "Actually that was pretty lucid compared to earlier. But there's hope- she said something about other memories."

"Yeah," Lester admitted. "But I don't think they've invented the kind of counseling she's gonna need." Enrique thought about this for a minute, and walked into the kitchen to pour a drink for himself.

"You met her before all this, didn't you?" he asked. Lester's answering nod was barely perceptible. "What was she like?"

"Bouncy, less crazy. She'd just landed a waitress job the first time I met her. This new club in Trenton-"

"I take it you and the rest of those thugs you work with decided it was time for a new hangout?" Enrique put in.

Lester looked up, a wolfish grin firmly in place. "Shorty's ain't got nothing to compete with a view like that."

Enrique rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the plans lying on the table. "We can drug the security teams. None of them are worth the bullet it would take to kill them, so why make a job harder than it has to be."

"What about the girls?" Les asked. "We don't know what he's got them on already. We can't risk a bad reaction."

"They should be asleep. Even if they aren't, Alia probably won't be much of a problem. Serena, though... her I don't know about. She don't associate with nobody outside of the Bosses and her sister."

"Try talking to Haley about her," Les said without thinking. Rico just stared at him. "Um, Alia. Sorry. This multiple personality name thing is fucking messed up."

"The whole thing is fucking messed up." Rico tossed back the rest of his drink.

"I think the term we're looking for is FUBAR," Les sighed and finished his own glass.