A/n: I had a lot of help with this chapter – Proudofyoubabe is a cyber rock star. I was unsure of how to go about delineating current time versus the recollection part of the story, and she pulled me through it. Many, many thanks to her.

Giana

Two months. Two long, miserable months since Lester and Ranger left, and two months since they'd heard directly from the men.

As Bobby Brown stood in his medical suite, watching his new assistant help him take inventory, he thought back to those first few dark days after Les and Ranger were called away.

At the three day mark, Hector and Vaughn had staged an intervention. First, with Bobby's help, they'd picked the lock to Lester's door and forced their way in. The three of them found Gia in bed, asleep, her body curled around Lester's pillow. Even in the quiet repose of sleep, she wore a frown on her face. Her swollen eyelids and the mound of tissues in the trashcan belied the single text message, simply reading "I'm fine", that she'd sent after a barrage of calls from her brother.

The men gave each other a collective look that spoke of their shared anguish; Bobby missed his best friend terribly and had sworn to Les that he would make sure Giana was okay, regardless of the outcome of the mission. That promise, while easy to agree to, gutted Bobby. Hector's pain at the scene before him was different, if not deeper – simply put, seeing her hurt, hurt him, and knowing her pain was born of her great love for Lester caused his eyes to prick and water.

It was Vaughn, however, that shucked his shoes and slid into the bed behind her.

"Gigi, you need to get up." He'd whispered, smoothing her hair from her face. His sister, his best friend and the companion of his life was in pain. The thought of her, laying here in this bed and mourning for the past three days, slayed him.

When she hadn't respond, Vaughn had readjusted himself so he was hovering above her face. He kissed her temple gently and hugged her to him. "Baby girl, you need to get out of this bed and shower, alright? You've been here a few days, and I need to feed you and see that you're okay."

Slowly, Giana parted her puffy lids and stared straight ahead, not acknowledging her brother. Hector eased himself onto the opposite side of the bed – Lester's side. After a beat, her eyes shifted, first to Hector, where they lingered only a moment. When she glanced at the empty spot that Les usually occupied, she had whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. Twin tears made matching streaks down her cheeks before she sucked in a great breath and spoke.

"He couldn't tell me where he was going, or for how long, or how dangerous it'll be for them…that's bad, right? I mean, if it wasn't bad, he could tell me, couldn't he?" She was babbling, her voice ratcheting up with every other word, before Bobby joined them on the mattress.

"Sweetheart, I know it seems…ominous, but it's protocol. Les didn't explain this to you?" Bobby patted her foot sympathetically, trying his best to navigate through her tears. Crying women were not his forte.

Sniffling, Giana had shaken her head and said, "No. I wanted to enjoy our time together. He said you would tell me whatever you could when I was ready to hear it." She had paused, trying to gain composure, before she'd given up and burst into tears.

"I'm not ready to hear that he's not coming back, so if that's what you're here to say, just go away!" And she'd buried her head beneath her pillow and cried, a heart-wrenching lament for her lost lover.

It had taken Bobby a few tries to get her to believe Lester wasn't doomed; that the circumstance was not as grim as she believed it to be. When she'd accepted his conjecture that Lester was insanely skilled and prepared for combat situations and that no force on earth would keep him from returning to her, she'd allowed her brother to help her to the bathroom to shower. Bobby and Hector left them to it with promises of Ella-food within the hour, and set off to see to Steph.

After that, Gia had taken to showing up at RangeMan on her days off, and sometimes after her shift at work was over. At first, the men treated her with kid-gloves and tried to patronize her; they offered her a seat whenever they saw her and volunteered to fetch her so much water that she feared she might float away.

It was after the third week of her hanging about aimlessly that Bobby found her at the monitor desk with Hector. Hec had ordered Vince to take a break and given Gia a crash course in video surveillance, and she sat in serious contemplation, staring at the screens. And there she'd stayed for the last three hours of Vince's four hour shift, watching the monitors.

Most of the Merry Men caught wind of their welcomed interloper and found one reason or another to pass by the desk; they agreed later that seeing Giana working at Rangeman seemed fitting to them. The silence on the floor was interrupted only when Hector spoke up to explain something to her, and the only odd thing about the pretty picture they painted together was that Hector held her hand that entire first shift.

Later in the break room, when Bobby had questioned Hector, Hec had only shrugged and said, "She needs to keep busy; this way, she's helping her man's company while he's gone. It's good for her soul." Bobby had nodded solemnly and that was that.

Presently, Bobby's assistant called out, "Bobby? I think we're going to need to order some gauze. We really need some sort of anti-gunshot initiative here at Rangeman; it's too pricey to patch 'em up." Giana's light-hearted jab brought him back to the present, and he snorted and rolled his eyes in response. Secretly, he delighted in her teasing; it was a far cry from the Gia of two months ago. She had bounced back, as much as a person can when the love of their life is in harm's way halfway around the globe, and every Rangeman went out of their way to cultivate her emotional rebound.

Bobby called back, "Dermal adhesive," and Giana ticked the box on the order sheet she was filling out. A physical therapist did not a medical assistant make, but she had a solid understanding of medical terminology so Bobby had enlisted her help in the medical suite when she showed up to pitch in.

"You gonna let me put you on payroll this week?" he called over his shoulder, grinning as he imagined the finger she was almost certainly flipping him. Bobby glanced behind himself and chuckled when he caught sight of her raised middle finger – yep, definitely not ready for payroll.

It was a running joke now, her refusal to be compensated for her time. When Bobby first broached the topic, Giana flat refused. "I'm volunteering," she'd insisted. When Bobby pressed the matter, Giana had only smiled patiently at him and stated, "When Les gets back, I want him to be as proud of me as I am of him." As there was absolutely nothing Bobby could respond with that wouldn't cause him to start blubbering like a baby, he'd simply nodded and scampered away as soon as was humanly possible.

In addition to helping Bobby and taking monitor shifts to free up the men for other pursuits, she also helped Ella in the kitchen and, from time to time, assisted Stephanie with new and existing clients.

Stephanie, Bobby thought on a sigh. Waving off Gia's inquiring look at his rather loud huff, Bobby allowed himself a moment to reflect on just how far she had come the past couple of months.

Stephanie

Hector stood and stretched languidly, allowing his joints to resettle and his tired muscles to breath. Security system installs were, by far, his least favorite part of the job, but they had to be done and he was the best…at least, that's what Tank continued to insist. Hector wondered, for the hundredth time, whether Tank was blowing smoke in order to get Hector to acquiesce.

Stephanie popped her head around the corner of the stairwell, checking his progress. She flashed him a quick grin and a wink before asking in her most professional tone, "Mr. Gutierrez, are we almost done with the install?"

Hector rolled his eyes before chirping back, "Yes, Mrs. Manoso, I just need to run a quick systems check to ensure everything is in proper working order." Hector did his best to make his tone affable and hide the annoyance he felt; they had discovered that while Hector was unarguably the fastest and most proficient installer of RangeMan's home security system, he was also the scariest and clients tended to feel uncomfortable around him. Stephanie had taken to accompanying him on installs under the guise of 'a routine customer service check', and the complaints about RangeMan's personnel choices had decreased dramatically. It also had the added bonus of getting Steph out of the building and among the living, a huge bonus as far as Hector was concerned.

She was a sight better than she'd been when Ranger initially left, but she still struggled with his absence. Hector let his mind drift back over that first attempt at trying to make Steph leave the apartment on seven.

After they'd left Vaughn with Giana, Bobby and Hector used the master elevator key to let themselves onto seven. After jimmying the front door to Ranger and Steph's apartment, they'd walked into a scene straight from the Stooges.

Stephanie must've heard them coming because she was waiting for them in the foyer, nearly delirious from lack of sleep and not eating properly for three days.

"LEAVE. ME. ALONE." She'd thundered, rather hoarsely at them. When Hector stepped back and left Bobby on the front line, she'd whirled and stormed off toward the kitchen.

"Bomber, we just wanted to check on y-" phoomph! Stephanie rounded the corner of the breakfast bar and lobbed a full bag of flour at Bobby. It had hit him square in the chest and burst, coating every surface in white powder. She flew at him after that, screeching for him to leave her alone, to get out of their apartment or she'd shoot him in the knee.

Knowing that, unlike the old days when Steph carried an unloaded piece, she had Ranger's personal arsenal at her disposal, Bobby beat a hasty retreat.

He'd met a conspicuously flour-free Hector in the hallway just as Stephanie slammed the door behind him.

Wide eyed, Bobby had stood facing Hector – slack jawed and incredulous, he'd sputtered out an affronted, "DUDE." ?

Hector had shrugged unapologetically and said, "It is Estephania. She was mad and headed for the kitchen; I knew it would not end well, and I was right."

They'd departed the seventh floor to regroup and headed off to strategize – Bobby took off toward the medical suite with the intention of using the handicap accessible larger shower, and Hector to check on Giana.

He'd found her, safely ensconced in Lester's apartment. She and Vaughn were just finishing up the stew Ella'd brought them, curled together like two kittens on Les's couch.

Some of the flour had migrated from Bobby onto Hec's shirt and, when questioned about it, Hector had relayed Stephanie's state to them. He was barely finished before Giana was up off the couch, determinedly striding into Lester's bedroom and emerging only moments later in a hastily pulled on outfit.

She'd pressed Hector to take her to the seventh floor immediately. He'd agreed, letting his morbid curiosity of the outcome of this tête-à-tête sway his decision. Giana had marched into the apartment on the seventh floor and, aside from a loud initial crash, Hector heard nothing from the hallway for a solid hour.

The two women had stayed in the apartment the entire night and hadn't surfaced until the next morning. They'd both been exhausted and bedraggled, and neither had revealed what had transpired that night; but that morning and every morning since, Stephanie at least put in an appearance at the morning meeting.

Now, Hector thought to himself as he snapped the lock to his tool chest closed, all they needed to perk his two flowers up was word from Washington that Lester and Ranger were alive and well. He knew that if prayers carried any weight, the men would be holed up some place that rivaled the Ritz.

Almost daily, Gia was at St. Michaels to light candles and pray; she prayed for the safe return of the men, she prayed for strength of mind and body for her lover and his cousin, and she prayed that God would keep His hand on all of them. Hector and Vaughn made it their duty to accompany her once a week, and Stephanie even went a few times. She'd been reluctant at first, worried about a run-in with the Morellis, stating that she was in no shape to deal with gossip from the 'Burg. She relented after repeated invitations and now took to praying in the early afternoon, when Bella and Angie were elbow-deep in cannoli mix and meatloaf.

As Hector and Stephanie arrived back at Rangeman, Hector noted that something was…off, with his friend.

"Problem, angelita?" he asked smoothly, shooting for casual disinterest.

Stephanie shrugged and rubbed the back of her neck, frowning. "Yeah, just… feeling kind of hinky all of a sudden."

"Anything I should know about?" he asked, eyes alert and scanning the garage. He unholstered his gun while peering discreetly in the car mirrors, searching for hidden threats.

"No…no, just…I dunno. I'm just tired, I guess." Stephanie was quick to dismiss the odd feeling of unease that lurked. Not foreboding, exactly – and she'd had enough experience with her Spidey Sense to know that danger wasn't present – more like a struggle to remember something she hadn't realized she'd forgotten; a song lyric that lay just out of her grasp, or a long-abandoned name that rested on the fringes of her memory. She wasn't sure what she was missing, just that there was something happening.

Eager to avoid any more questions she didn't have answers to and yearning for the quiet solitude of the apartment on seven, Steph slid deftly from the car and made her way toward the elevator. It opened to reveal Giana, heading toward her own car with the intention of heading in to the hospital for her shift.

"Finished with inventory?" Stephanie asked, grinning. She'd been grateful when Bobby suggested that task fall at Gia's feet; it had been one that Stephanie dreaded and she'd gladly handed it off to her friend.

Gia rolled her eyes and said, "Bobby Brown is a drone, sent by the tax man to destroy all fun, anywhere, for the rest of time." Stephanie chuffed and winked at her before promising to call her tomorrow. Hector slid in beside her just before the elevator doors shut, and rode in silence to the fourth floor. He exited without a word – the pointed look he gave her spoke volumes. This conversation isn't over, it said, and Stephanie gave an exaggerated eye roll as soon as the doors slid shut. She knew, of course, that Hector wouldn't just drop her supposition that something, somewhere, was off. She just didn't have the wherewithal to dig into it at the moment.

Reaching the seventh floor, she sighed gratefully. "Home, sweet home," she mumbled as she toed off her shoes and surveyed her quiet apartment. She'd made a few changes in the past two months – namely, she'd printed and framed a dozen or so photographs of Ranger and scattered them throughout their home. Photos of him, smiling down at her while they embraced, security stills of Ranger with his 'Corporate Carlos' face on, and one of him dressed in fatigues and smiling his 200-watt smile at the photographer. That picture had mysteriously appeared on her desk one morning, and it was her favorite of the bunch. She tended to carry it from room to room and set it where she could glance at it whenever the mood struck her…which was about every thirty seconds.

Now, Fatigue Ranger sat perched and smiling on the entry table, just where she'd left him this morning. "Hey, Carlos." She smiled lovingly and kissed her fingertips, brushing them across his glass-covered face before picking up the photograph and carrying it into the kitchen with her. She made herself a peanut butter and olive sandwich on worthless white bread; normally contraband in their home, Ella had taken pity on Stephanie and stocked her favorite junk food in the pantry after Ranger was called away.

Stephanie briefly considered telling her picture about her day before quickly dismissing the thought. I might be lonely, but I'm not crazy. First I'm talking to pictures of him; next thing you know I've got my very own fitted white jacket. She chuckled at the thought and wished, for the millionth time, that Carlos was there to share it with.

After running through a few options for the rest of her day, each of which required actual human interaction, Stephanie opted for her tried-and-true gloom-buster and headed for the bedroom to assume her thinking position.

As she settled onto Carlos's side of the bed, she gave herself a mental pat on the back – sure, she wasn't going to win Miss Congeniality anytime soon, but the fact that she could force herself to crawl out of bed every day, when she only wanted to hide under the covers and count the hours, was a feat she would give herself credit for achieving.

And for now, celebrating the small hurdles would have to do.