A/n: This was a while coming. I had my 10th wedding anniversary, a 2nd grade diorama to build, and a toddler with croup. But, my beta and I agreed…better late than pregnant. (thanks, Elaine!)

Enjoy.

Stephanie hunted around the kitchen in search of a snack, preferably something with protein. Since Ranger had surprised her by walking through their apartment door from whatever Hellhole he'd been in the past 2 ½ months with a wide, 200-volt grin and a simple, "Babe," they'd barely strayed from the bedroom. He was, he'd murmured between rounds of lovemaking, offline for the foreseeable future, so it was a great surprise to her to hear their apartment phone ringing early this morning. Ranger…well, if the man ever felt surprised, she had yet to learn his tell.

He'd answered the phone with a terse, "Yo," listened to the caller for approximately fifteen seconds before asking, "Where?" and hanging up. He'd made his way swiftly to their closet, plucking a pair of cargos and a tee shirt for himself and a lacy blue peignoir and matching panties for Stephanie. He'd tossed it to her while pulling his shirt over his head, grinned, and said, "I'll be back in ten. Put that on for me," before ducking out to attend to whatever urgent matter required his attention.

Now, as she shoveled a nutritionally deficient yet filling peanut butter on worthless white bread sandwich into her mouth, Stephanie wondered what could have possibly dragged Carlos out of their little cocoon. The apartment phone rang, meaning it was either Ranger's mother (unlikely), Julie (unusual; she almost always called their cells), or the front desk. And since Carlos had given her a ten-minute window to change… all signs pointed at a RangeMan problem. Stephanie rolled her eyes; such was the nature of their jobs. Still, the insatiable snoop in her wondered what had been important enough to pull him away, but able to be attended to in the promised ten minute window?

Glancing at the clock, she gave a small 'yip' and scurried toward their bedroom; according to Carlos, he'd be here in less than two minutes. She took a quick 30 seconds to brush her teeth and rid herself of the tell-tale scent of Peter Pan, slip into the sexy nightie her husband had laid out for her, and fluff her hair before she heard the front door to the apartment make the small ping that accompanied the arrival of the elevator on the seventh floor.

Stephanie raced toward the living room so she would have enough time to lean casually against the wall to greet her husband. To her surprise, she found she had actually missed him in the short time he'd been gone; huh. Go figure.

I guess that's what love will do to you…her thoughts trailed off as Carlos entered the apartment. She was standing, silent and still, off to the side, and so she took one greedy moment to drink this beautiful, brooding man in.

Wait a second…brooding? Why was he brooding, when he'd been all smiles for the past 48 hours?

"What's happened?" she asked, stepping forward. "Are the guys okay? Was anyone injured?"

Ranger forced a quick smile and shook his head. "No, Babe, the men are fine; just a small dispute. Minor issue. It's settled. I like that cami on you." He tried to divert her attention by sliding his fingers between the folds of the material.

Stephanie side-stepped his ministrations; if he hooked her now, there would be no getting any answers from him. "It's a peignoir," she faffed at him while giving him a calculating look.

"If it's just a 'small dispute', why did they need to call you while you're offline to come downstairs for ten minutes? You're not hiding something from me, are you, Carlos?"

Ranger's eyes darkened and his stance became slightly more aggressive. "Babe," he breathed, advancing slowly toward her. "Say that again."

Somewhere in Stephanie's mind, alarms and warning shouts of 'abort! abort!' were sounding, but at the moment, she was powerless to stop her husband as he lowered his head and nibbled on her neck. Her last coherent thought was that she would have to wear him out and then go in search of answers if she wanted to know what this 'minor issue' was.

It took ninety minutes to sufficiently wear Carlos out and another ten to extricate herself from their bed without waking him. Quietly, painstakingly, she retrieved a washcloth and a change of clothes before slipping out the bedroom door and ghosting toward the kitchen. Quickly, Stephanie used the washcloth to clean up in the kitchen, blushing and praying no one ever found out about it. She dressed and grabbed her keys, purposely leaving her phone on the entry table to avoid Ranger's calls if he happened to wake up before she was through. Tiptoeing, she slipped undetected through the front door.

The elevator would signal inside their apartment when it docked on seven, so she opted for the stairwell and made her way quickly down to the fifth floor control room. She strolled to the desk that Hal was manning, greeting him with her most winning smile.

"Hey, Hal, what's up?"

Hal flushed and returned her greeting before pointedly turning his attention back to the monitors, so Stephanie was forced to changed tactics.

"You been on monitors all morning?" she asked, casually examining her cuticles.

"Yes, ma'am," came the reply.

"So you would've been the one to call my husband this morning to tell him about the, er, issue."

Hal was looking increasingly uncomfortable; Stephanie smelled blood in the water and started circling. When he only muttered, "Ma'am," in response, Stephanie tried a more aggressive approach.

"Listen, Buster," she began, mentally cringing at her cartoonish attempt at coercion, "Ranger's keeping something from me and I want to know what it is! Now spill or I tell him I caught you looking down my shirt and winking at me."

Poor Hal turned red, then white, and then began to sweat bullets. "Aw, geez, Bomber, you wouldn't really do that, would you?" he begged, glancing around to make sure their little exchange went unnoticed.

Stephanie only shrugged in noncommittance, her stare boring a hole in Hal's sweet pliable head.

He knew when he was whipped, and so with a great put-upon sigh and a slump of his shoulders, he began to spill.

"I can't….I can't tell you everything," he began, blushing. "I wasn't on duty the night it started; you'd have to talk to Ram about it. This morning, Hector and Les got into some kind of a, I dunno, an argument and Hec called him to the mats over it. It was pretty brutal, they had to carry Les to the infirmary." Hal sat back, unsure whether to feel relief at sharing his burden or shame at being blackmailed out of the information by a skinny little girl.

Stephanie's mind was racing. "So Les must've done something to piss Hector off," she mused to herself, her mind whirring into action. "And Hector called him out over it?" Her distress at the news was apparent; what could possibly have happened that could justify mat time from Hector? As far as she knew, there was an unspoken agreement that Hector's style was too harsh to incorporate in mat time used for reprimands. "Giana's going to go postal on Hec when she finds out," she murmured to herself, not noticing the way Hal shifted his eyes from her and frowned when she said it.

Stephanie's eyes snapped up, now drinking in Hal's discomfort. "Does she know already? What happened with the guys?" she clarified.

He squirmed under her scrutinizing glare; seeing her in action, picking apart a mystery had always been something Hal found enthralling. Now, being on the receiving end…he understood why people were willing to blow up her cars in an effort to escape her.

Hal squared his shoulders and stated, with more conviction than he felt, "That's all I can share. You'll need to ask Ram or Ranger about the rest."

Stephanie continued to assess him for a moment before shooting him a warning glare and turning on her heel in search of answers.

She went in search of the Man himself and was told he was in the medical suite, and so she made her way down there, deftly evading her coworkers on the way. Arriving outside Bobby's suite, she was surprised that the light indicating a need for quiet was on lit; that usually meant Bobby was with a patient. Indignation, fueled by worry coursed hot through her veins; if Hector hurt Lester enough that he required medical treatment…. She didn't allow herself to finish that thought as she quietly pushed the door open in search of Ram.

She didn't notice him at first; understandably, her attention was immediately focused on Lester's inert form lying on the bed.

"Oh!" she gasped, her hand fluttering around her mouth as she took him in. Bruised and swollen with dried blood in his hair, he slept unawares while Steph looked on.

Movement from the corner of her eye caused her attention to shift. A very solemn Michael Ramsey stood at attention, a knowing look passing between the two. Stephanie gestured toward the door, beckoning him to follow, but Ram only shook his head in the negative. Using the most basic of hand gestures, he conveyed to Stephanie his need to stay in the suite and keep eyes on Les before mouthing 'Bobby' to her. With a nod and a sad glance at her friend, she quietly left the suite in search of answers.

This game, this needing to know the answer to what she'd assumed was a simple question, was fast turning into something far more sinister. Stephanie was still trying to piece together the puzzle, but she had worked out, so far, that this wasn't a simple sparring session gone wrong. Whatever had caused Hector to lose control so completely was bad, really bad. Hal's reticence to share anything about Giana's knowledge of the fight was also telling, and Stephanie quickened her pace.

No one, on the entire floor, could tell her where Bobby was. That meant he'd either left (unlikely, since Lester was obviously in a bad way), he was with Hector on two (probable, and it would explain why he wasn't immediately traceable), or that he was avoiding her. Hmmmm… Stephanie had managed to find out from Binkie that Hector drove off shortly after the 'sparring session' ended, and she had a pretty good idea where he'd gone.

She made her way down to the garage and hopped in her little Miata. It was still too chilly to open the top, but she loved this little car as much as she'd loved her first Miata and dammit, she could use a little happy right now.

Stephanie pulled out of the RangeMan garage with one destination in mind, and ten minutes later, she was exiting her car. She strolled up to the front door, shooting a glare at Hector's parked vehicle before climbing the porch steps and pausing to knock on the door.

She was left waiting only a moment before the door was yanked open. Hector stood, an impassable look on his face that only served to ratchet Stephanie's ire through the roof.

"What. Did. You. Do?" she snapped, glaring at him. "Do you even know what you did? I just came from RangeMan, you beat the shit out of Lester! He looks like he was in a car accident, Hector! What could – " Here she was interrupted by the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen, and Stephanie and Hector swung their heads in startled unison to inspect where the noise came from.

Gia stepped into view, and Stephanie gasped. She looked…well, haggard was the kindest description that Steph could come up with. Tired and stretched thin, Gia gave every indication of a woman on the edge while she stared daggers at Hector.

"I can't believe you did that," she rasped, and again, Stephanie felt shock at her physical state. Even Gia's voice sounded strained; what the Hell was going on today?!

Hector returned her furious stare with a calm one, and Stephanie took the opportunity to step inside Giana's house and close the door. She noticed, for the first time, that Vaughn was standing slightly behind Gia in the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, careful to avoid the onslaught of dirty looks rocketing between his sister and his lover.

"You. Had. No. Right." Gia's voice was gaining strength as her anger increased. Her worn, weakened stance was rapidly filling out, like a balloon inflating. When Hector only continued to stand, in silence, and absorb her incensed glare, Giana snapped.

"Say something!" she screamed at him, her arms rigid with anger. Stephanie recoiled slightly; whatever she'd been expecting to walk into, this hadn't been it. Finally, Hector spoke.

"He deserved it. I was not as hard on him as I could have been." Hector threw out the last part flippantly, almost as an afterthought meant to reassure Gia…which was, evidently, the wrong thing to say.

"He deserved to be alone!" she yelled, her fire not diminishing in the least. "He deserved to not have me to talk to about this! He deserved me dumping his ass!" Her voice began to ebb, the hoarse cracking evidence of just how drained she was. "He did not deserve your vigilante attempt at punishing him! It wasn't your place, Hec!"

A smart man would have retreated. A man who valued self-preservation would have apologized; even a dumb dog knows to back off when scolded. And while Hector wasn't dumb or self-destructive, he was prideful and his sense of justice wasn't one he'd had occasion to compromise on in his entire life. All he offered Giana was a non-committal, one-shoulder shrug.

Stephanie cringed and saw Vaughn mirror her just before Gia closed her eyes and said, "Get out. Now. I don't want to see you for awhile." With only a nod, Hector stepped around Stephanie and let himself out, closing the door quietly behind himself.

Giana lowered her head into her hands and began crying, softly. Stephanie tamped down that old feeling of discomfort in the face of emotional displays and stepped around the couch, making her way to her friend. The two women hugged for a few minutes before Gia sniffed back her tears and said, wryly, "Fuck this day. I'm going to bed."

After ensuring she took a few Advil, Stephanie quietly bid her goodnight and watched as she made her way to the bedroom. After hearing the door latch, she turned to Vaughn and spread her arms wide. "What the Hell is going on around here?"

Vaughn looked almost as defeated as his sister had; while his heartache wasn't measured in betrayal, it was the result of a fractioning sense of loyalty between the two most important people in his life. Simply put, this was a cluster-fuck to end all cluster-fucks.

He picked up the broom and dustpan and began sweeping the glass Gia had thrown earlier before speaking in a rushed, tired tone. "Hec came over when I texted him, when I found my sister all upset," he began. "He got here, she noticed right away that his knuckles were bloody and asked about them. He said he called Les to the mats over what happened but didn't make it sound all that serious; she was pretty pissed at him for that, said she wanted to handle it and he had no right to go and hurt Lester." Finished with his chore,a dejected Vaughn slumped into Gia's kitchen chair and tiredly continued. "Then you came in and it sounded…sounds like Hec did a better job than he let on. And now my sister threw him out of her house and it's all just a huge fucking mess." He closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose, tension rolling off of him in waves.

Steph squeezed his shoulder in sympathy before probing further. "What, exactly, happened? Nobody at the office would tell me, but from the looks of Lester it must've been pretty serious…" she trailed off, her curiosity replaced by a need to understand exactly when the world had flipped on its axis.

Vaughn stood and opened Giana's cabinet. He reached in and pulled out her bottle of Cuervo, along with two mismatched juice glasses. After filling them with ice and pouring them each a drink, he relayed the information that Gia had shared with him early this morning when he'd followed Hec's instructions and checked in with her. He began with Giana's arrival at Rangeman the day after Ranger'd shown up in their apartment and ended with his sister dismissing Hector from her home.

Stunned, Stephanie could only motion for another drink. She sipped it as she processed the story Vaughn had spun for her. Surprisingly, the anger she assumed would be there was absent, replaced by overwhelming sadness. Pity for Giana, certainly, but also some for Lester and Hector as well. Good intentions, misunderstandings, and retributions both just and misguided…it all culminated in one giant mess.

"So what do I do now?" Vaughn's voice broke her reverie, and Stephanie raised her eyes to meet his. He looked as miserable as the other players in this dismal game, and all Stephanie had to offer him was a sympathetic look and a sigh. "Honestly? I have no idea. I want to kill Lester before I hug him, but Hector already stepped in there. I want to strangle Hec for beating Les up before I hug him for trying to show he cared. It's like trying to untangle a ten pound ball of string."

Leaning forward and motioning for Vaughn to do the same, she started strategizing. Giana, she reasoned, would be out for awhile. They constructed a comforting letter with instructions to call one or both of them should she want some company, and to text them if she didn't, lest they swing by unannounced again. Vaughn was to go in search of Hector to try and help him wade through the mess he'd created, and Stephanie was heading back to Rangeman. Her worry over her friend's well-being had been at the forefront of her mind since she'd seen him in the medical suite; she needed to check on him, to see for herself that he was going to be okay. She also wanted to be prepared to report back to Giana, should she ask after him.

After locking Gia inside her home and setting the alarm, the two set off on their separate ways. Stephanie took her time, stopping off at the grocery store for a pint of Lester's favorite sorbet along the way.

Arriving back at Rangeman, she headed immediately for the medical suite and Lester. She was only mildly surprised to find Ranger waiting for her in the hallway, arms folded across his chest and one perfect eyebrow raised in greeting.

"You snuck out," he stated, mildly, as his eyes scanned her form. She was stiff and silent, a combination that could only mean one thing – Stephanie was in a snit over something.

"You lied," she lobbed back, secretly pleased at having used fewer words than her husband in a conversation. Ranger held his hands up in mock surrender, shaking his head.

"I didn't. I just talked to Ram; he filled me in." Stephanie rolled her eyes and used her palm to gently pound her forehead. "What a snake! He wouldn't tell me anything but he spilled to you like a little girl with a secret."

Ranger closed the space between them, circling his arms around her shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of her head. "Is that where you've been? Cracking the case?" His tone was teasing, with an undertone she couldn't quite place.

She leaned into him, gladly accepting the comfort his body offered her. "I went to find Hector. Hal told me that he and Les had gotten into it – your minor dispute ruse was bullshit, by the way – so I figured it must have something to do with Gia. I went to her place; she was in the middle of throwing Hector out when I got there."

Ranger's raised eyebrow was his only tell, but his wife knew – as wives often do – what that meant, coming from him. "I know, blew my socks off, too." She was in a commiserating mood at the moment, still shaken by the way the day had unfolded. She needed this banter with her husband to center her before she faced off with Les. Stephanie allowed herself a few more moments in Ranger's arms, absorbing the peace and innate calm he always seemed to exude before pushing gently away and shooting a rueful smile at him.

"I won't be terribly long; are you going to get some work done or head back to seven?"

After confirming the former, Ranger kissed his wife soundly before instructing her to not go crazy today and sauntering down the hallway toward his office. Wistfully, Stephanie watched him walk away and wished she were going with him, checked herself for drool and headed off in search of Lester.

She shot Ram a reproachful glare as she approached the doors, and to his credit, he at least had the decency to look shame-faced. "Traitor," she muttered under her breath as she breezed past him. She made a mental note to make sure he was partnered with Tank the next time there was an evening surveillance shift scheduled, right underneath her note to treat Tank to lunch at their favorite cantina that same day.

Stephanie'd harbored some hope that her mind's eye painted a much more brutal picture, that Lester wasn't actually as bad off as she remembered from the few brief minutes she spent in the room earlier. That small flame was doused, fairly thoroughly, when she again laid eyes on him.

She couldn't stop the quick gasp she sucked in when she saw him, or the wave of pity that engulfed any animosity she held onto. All she could do was drink in her friend, her poor, battered friend, and feel sweeping sadness fill her until she couldn't breathe around it.

The soft gulp of air alerted Lester to the fact that he was no longer alone; he forced open his good eye and peered, blearily toward the door, immediately recognizing his visitor.

"If you've come to tell me what an idiot I am," he said, his voice garbled, "you're tardy for that party. I'm well aware."

For all her self-proclaimed awkwardness when it came to 'feelings', there was one that Stephanie always managed seamlessly – empathy. Now, it was her dominant emotion and she surged forward, patting the sheets around his body helplessly, flustered beyond hope of subtlety.

"Jesus, Lester! What the Hell were you thinking!" she hissed, brushing at the tears seeping onto her lashes. "You could've been seriously hurt! What am I saying - you were seriously hurt!" With a huff, she whirled and stomped toward the small freezer Bobby used for ice packs, ripping the door open and shoving the sorbet inside before slamming the door.

Les only sighed and closed his eyes, wisely choosing not to comment. Stephanie was, he deduced, in no mood to hear anything in the vein of a protest from him and so he kept his thoughts to himself. There was one question, however, that begged to be answered.

"Have you seen her?" he whispered painfully, not opening his eyes. He didn't know what would be worse coming from Steph – pity, or anger. Truth told, he wasn't sure he could stand either right now.

"I have," she replied before turning away to wet a washcloth in cold water. Wringing it out, she brought it back to Lester's inert form and placed it on his forehead. "She's about how you'd expect. Pissed, hurt, looked like she wasn't doing well at all." Debating quickly, Stephanie decided to go all in and added, "She was screaming at Hector when I got there."

With that, Lester's eye opened wide and he gingerly turned to face Stephanie. "What? Why?!" He seemed appalled and confused, which was not at all what Stephanie expected.

"Um, I think she was pissed about the two of you fighting. She didn't think it was Hector's place."

Lester sighed, again, before closing his eye once more. "It certainly was. She was the injured party, Steph. Hec was just trying to make things right, make them square again."

Stephanie blanched before squaring her shoulders. Indignation shot her spine ramrod-straight and she sneered while arguing, "How the Hell did this make things right?! You look like a trauma victim, Lester! That doesn't help Giana; for fuck's sake, it made her feel worse about the whole thing!"

It was Lester's turn to blanch. He frowned, saying, "She shouldn't. Hector was caring for her, the best way he knew. If I was in any position but the one I am, I'd have done the same thing for her." He placed one hand over hers as it lay on his mattress, cutting her off as she began to protest. "I needed it as much as she did, Beautiful. I don't blame Hector. I'm grateful to him, for doing what I should have."

Stephanie, aghast, could only stare at Lester with a slightly horrified look on her face. Lester, sensing he was losing her, elaborated. "I felt so bad, so fucking awful, on the inside about…about what I did to her." He rushed on, nausea rolling through his gut at the thought of exactly what he'd done to her. "I needed the session, Steph. I needed to get it out. The pain, the guilt...it was eating me alive. My apartment was like a tomb. I was laying there, rotting and wishing for something to make me pay. Hector was it."

Stephanie rocked back on her heels. Incredulity clouded every cohesive thought she might have otherwise had, and sagely, she kept her mouth shut until she had time to consider what she wanted to say that Lester would hear.

Slowly, determinedly, Stephanie shook her head. "No, Lester. See, you think that by allowing Hector to, I dunno, extract some kind of revenge on you on Giana's behalf, you're doing some weird macho man guy thing and apologizing to her. But that's not what this is; you've just taken all your guilt, all the revulsion you feel for yourself and piled that on Giana, too. See, now she gets to deal with that on top of knowing that the man she loves slept with two women in the same bed he slept with her in." By the end of Stephanie's tirade, Lester's mouth was turned down into a grimace. His eye was turned away from hers, staring at the wall past her head, the sheen of tears clearly visible. He was caught in a vise, misery and disgust warring for dominance over him – he was, simply put, a man torn apart.

Stephanie's empathy, ever-present and nudging her into the present, softened her posture and her words. "The only way you get out of this, Les, is to earn her forgiveness. You have to talk with her about it, try and work through it."

It took Lester three attempts to swallow past the sizeable lump in his throat. "I tried," he whispered, the shame he felt clear in his voice. "She wouldn't see me."

Stephanie took pity on the man before her, who had willfully let another break his beautiful body in hopes of making amends for his crime. She leaned across his chest and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before readjusting the washcloth covering his forehead. "Then you try again. And again, and again, and again...you try until she tells you to stop trying. You've already hurt her; you aren't going to hurt her more if you're attempting to make it right." She paused, carefully weighing her words before continuing. "Les, as a woman…the only thing that would hurt more than my husband sleeping with another woman, would be the day he stopped trying to show me how sorry he was and how much he still loved me."

A dry sob escaped Lester's chest, immediately followed by a round of coughing so intense it brought Ram running from the hallway. After assuring them both he was fine, he accepted a gentle hug from Stephanie and an awkward nod from Ram before being left alone, again, with his thoughts.

If they were black before, now they were obsidian, opaque in hue; knowing he'd hurt her with his crazy insecurities and sick taste for revenge was a fatal wound. Knowing that he'd hurt her again with his need for penance was a slow roast on a spit with Hellfire dancing beneath him. At every turn, with every action, he was hurting the only person on this Earth he felt a primal need to protect. This, this, was true agony.

He couldn't argue with Stephanie's logic – the only person to grant him any measure of forgiveness was her. Gah, he couldn't even think her name without the memories gutting him – what he'd done, all he'd lost. For now, it was her.

Pooling the last vestiges of fortitude his twisted soul possessed, Lester began to hatch a new plan. This one, unlike his last, was centered around what would make Giana happiest. This would not grant him any grace or reprieve from the unending loathing he felt toward himself, and it would not take into account his need to make amends. The path he chose, now, would concentrate only on her peace, on her serenity. If he had to live forever cloaked in despair and solitude to ensure her happiness…

…so be it.