All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are solely mine.

"I'm alright, Steph," Raphael tried to tell her, when he re-emerged from his apartment on four and finally made his way through the gathered crowd of concerned and pissed off RangeMen.

"You are not. And here," she responded, handing him a flowery pink 'My Mommy Loves Me' bib that she had half-sticking out of her pocket to catch impending teething drool. "Just telling me that had your lip splitting again. When do these jerks get their day in court?"

"I'm not telling you," I informed her. "I have a feeling I'll have a vigilante situation on my hands if I do. I will be handling all forms of punishment ... legally and personally. I don't want you involved in what happens to these two."

"Too late. I became involved the second someone approached and provoked one of our people. You insult them, you insult me too! And being a Jersey girl, I give back far better than I get."

"I'm well aware of that, Babe. That's why I'm standing between you and these fuckers."

"They don't deserve any protection," she stated, glancing at Raphael's battered face one more time. As if on cue, her eyes became a solid sheen of tears she was trying not to let fall. "And if they had to rely on a surprise attack to do that, I'll be okay confronting them on my terms."

"I'm okay, Steph," Raphael repeated a little more emphatically. "I promise. It looks worse than it feels. You should see the other guys. Half the blood on me was theirs. I didn't go down easily. I wouldn't have gone down at all if luck and a 2x4 hadn't been on their side."

Her shoulders fell. "How can someone do something like this to another person they don't even know?"

"Fear and anger can turn people into animals," I felt sick telling her. "Logic doesn't figure into hate."

"No shit. Raphael, you're the sweetest, kindest, most moral person, I've ever met. NO ball-less, cheap shot-using, Neanderthal-thinking, knuckle-dragging, asshole should feel they have the right to talk to you, let alone hurt you. I'm so mad, I can't even think straight. Though I guess I can understand being mad enough to hate somebody, but my hate's based on their despicable actions, not on skin color or languages spoken."

Raphael's one open eye flicked to me. I tipped my head to the side in agreement that its time for him to relax and get some rest. While he's doing that, Stephanie will calm down a bit. Her face is still rage-red and her breathing appeared labored despite her trying to take deep breaths to cut through her anger and hurt on Raphael's behalf. Having faced my share of racism, I love her even more for how physically appalled she is witnessing the result of it. This is just a warm-up for what she'll have to face if things and mindsets don't change by the time Olivia reaches school age. If Steph's battling homicidal thoughts with Raphael being targeted, I don't want to think of how she'd react if Olive is ever the intended victim. That could be the one time where Stephanie would be scarier than I'd be. I'd go cold and go with one shot, one kill. Olive's Mama would vote for hours of torture before she let me finish them off.

"I swear on the Good Book, Steph," he told her, as he leveled his battered body up from his chair to give her a careful but comforting hug, "that I'm fine. I don't want you to worry about me."

"Too freakin' late for that," she said into his shirt.

Raphael shot another half-look at me over her head. He felt more helpless now than he did getting knocked out and then left for dead on a back road, miles from the hospital he called from. I tugged her out of his loose hold and crushed her into a tighter one.

I've already called in reinforcements since I'll need to leave in a few minutes to cause a little pain for the hurt that's been dealt to my family.

The announcement wasn't unexpected, the words Santos chose to use weren't either.

"Hot blond walking," he said to the control, his face still glued to the monitor. "Hey, wait a minute ... I thought Kane's wife's a brunette?"

"Harper's hair is darker than mine," Steph said, pulling back to investigate by way of a monitor pointed at the front entrance of the Rangeman building. "Kane and Harper are here?"

"Yes," I answered, taking our daughter back from Junior, who was lucky to get to amuse her for a few minutes, and then I wrapped an arm around my wife. "And they said they're bringing company."