Keep it rollin, rollin, rollin..

"Can't believe we fucking lost them!" Carla was throwing a loud fit, stomping up and down the length of the room. Diego and I sat quietly, attempting to avoid her.

Like that was going to work.

"Stephanie!" Carla rounded on me, causing me to jump. I had to hold myself back from snapping her a salute. "Did you hear any background sounds, anything that could tell us where they're staying?"

Well, if I did, wouldn't I have said something by now?

I could tell my thoughts showed on my face, because I got a slight nudge and a warning look from Diego, who sat beside me. So, instead of a biting remark, I just shook my head.

"Not a thing," I replied, glancing up as the door slammed and Ranger and Company walked in. I tried to make eye contact with Ranger, but he was too busy glaring daggers at Diego.

Funny, I didn't know Ranger knew how to glare.

Both Diego and Tank snorted, while Ranger finally looked at me and gave me a 'Babe' look.

Damn. Looks like I said that out loud.

"To get down to business," Ranger said abruptly, snapping us all into Track-Down-the-Asshole-Clown mode, "We don't have time to mess around with pleasantries and distraction. We don't know what this guy has planned, and we don't know where he is. I want a tracer on the next call he makes, so Stephanie, you need to stay here-"

Like hell!

I opened my mouth to object, but got yet another, sharper elbow in my side. I turned my glare to meet Tony's.

Yikes.

I turned back quickly to find Ranger looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"Fine," I said. "But I don't like it."

Ranger nodded and turned toward Tank. While he fired directions to the rest of the team, I crossed my arms and leaned against the corner of the couch. Being locked up and confined to one place was never something I was able to do easily, but with Ranger, I really didn't have a choice.

"Stephanie, I want you by your phone at all times," Ranger instructed me.

That's like telling a girl she can have everything in Macy's for free.

"No problem," I said, trying to contain my glee. The more serious part of me knew that I wouldn't be allowed to actually BE on the phone, but the denial side of me liked the idea.

I had expected Ranger to say "Babe", or give one of his corner-smiles, or even show a spark of amusement in his eyes, but I saw nothing. Instead, he gave me a dead nod and walked out of the room with Tank and Lester by his side.

"Harsh," I muttered, but sighed and shrugged. Tony shot me a look, then stood and followed his older brother. Soon, I was left with only Diego. I looked over at him, studying him closely for the first time. He had Ranger's nose, but that was about it. Everything else was warmer.. his eyes, his lips, the small scar on his right cheek, even his hair was a lighter, less threatening color.

Freaking sexy.

After feeling my eyes on him, he turned to me and gave me a small half-smile. "Go talk to him," he said, nodding his head in the general direction of the door. "He needs you."

Ranger doesn't 'need' anybody, and everyone knew it.

"You're wrong," Diego said, shaking his head and standing up. "Whether you believe it or not, he isn't the real Batman." I looked down. Damn my speaking out loud. "Don't you remember?" Diego asked, lightening the mood, "I'm the one who's Superman here."

I tried to smile, but it came out looking like I was constipated. "I'm going to go to the bathroom," I said, having no clue where the bathroom was, or if there was even one in the house. After all, this was the Justice League family we're talking about. Despite this fact, I stood up and headed in what I guess was the right direction, because Diego didn't stop me and tell me differently. I wandered down a few random halls, looking for anything that looked remotely like a bathroom. As I was about to turn yet another doorknob and pray it wasn't another closet, I heard voices on the other side.

Sweet.

Now, there are three things a person could do in this situation. The first was to walk away and come back later. The second would be to politely knock and interrupt the conversation. The third, however, would be the one that most would do.

Stick your damn ear up to the door and listen.

I couldn't make out what the voice on the other side was saying, but I could tell that it was a males. The voice was muffled, and I mentally cursed the thickness of the door. As I leaned even closer to hear, the door opened.

"Stephanie," Ranger said calmly, picking me up off the floor. I opened my mouth to explain, but he turned and began walking away.

"That's it?" I asked him, watching as he walked further and further away from me. "Why won't you talk to me?"

As I had expected, he continued to walking.

"Ranger!" I called. I began to jog to catch up to him. He didn't slow. "Ranger, wha-"

He turned and rounded on me. "Stephanie," he said in a deadly calm voice, "Go away. I don't have the time to deal with you right now."

What?

I jerked as if I had been slapped, and made to turn, but he kept going. "I told you not to come, and what do you do? You show up at my mother's doorstep twenty minutes later. I told you to keep your phone with you at all times, and where is it now?" He looked pointedly at the empty space on my belt where my cell should be. I tried to think. It was still on the coffee table in the den.

"Even the simplest instructions seem to be impossible for you to follow," he continued, his eyes growing blacker. His voice had remained the same pitch throughout the entire time, but now it was getting softer and deadlier. "You are more work than my daughter, and you're twenty years older. The only reason I'm allowing you to be in this house at all is because I can't focus on finding my daughter and your neices when I have to wonder, 'Where is Stephanie now? What trouble is she getting into this time?'. I'm hoping that leaving you here is the right thing, because with my luck, you'll have blown the place up by the time I get back."

Bastard!

My eyes had been increasing in width the entire speech, but the last comment was what threw me over the edge. "Blown up?" I asked, my voice shrill. "Blown up?" I opened my mouth and swung my hands, but nothing came out. I continued swinging, trying to think of a good arguement, but I was so angry that I couldn't form coherent words.

"Dickhead!" I yelled finally. I stomped down hard on his foot, turned, and ran down the hall. Stupid Rambo-Wanna-Be-Rock-Resembling-GI-Joe-Impersonating.. twat!

I stomped all the way back to the den, kicking the couch hard and wincing in pain when I did so.

"Shit!" I exploded, "Fuck, damn, ouch!" I hopped to the big recliner chair at the other end of the room, sat down, and promptly burst into tears.

Strangely, I felt arms go around me. At first, I tensed, thinking it was the clown dude, but I smelled the now familiar scent and relaxed.

"That wasn't a talk," Diego said into my ear. I snuggled closer, still crying.

"What do you call it?"

He chuckled. "A war? Stomping on peoples feet isn't nice, you know."

My cheeks burned. "It was impulsive." We sat there for awhile, until I eventually stopped crying.

"Better?" he asked.

"Mmph." It was only then that I realized.

Holy shit, I'm in Superman's arms.

Superman being..

Ranger's brother.

"Umph," I mumbled, sitting up. "You realize you were holding me?"

Diego raised an eyebrow. "That's typically what it's called, yes."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he stared right back.

"Hmph," I grunted. I leaned back against him, and felt his arms re-wrap around me. "Fine then."

I lay there for what seemed like hours, until I was fell asleep. I had just awaken from my perch in his lap, head on his shoulder with my eyes still closed, when I heard voices. With my eyes carefully shut and my breathing slow and regular, I began to listen very carefully.

"..Been here for two hours now," Diego said to whoever.

"She needs to be awake." It was Ranger's crisp voice. He spoke to Diego as if he were the big brother, when it was actually the opposite.

"You don't have a clue what she needs," Diego snapped. I felt his arms tense around me, so I shifted slightly and they loosened.

"Don't you start on me," Ranger replied in the same manner. "I've faced Mom's shit already-"

"Obviously she didn't get to you, then. I'm thirty six years old, Ricky, I think I can manage here." The statement seemed innocent enough, but I could hear the silent dare. There was silence for a whole minute, then finally footsteps walking away. They grew dimmer and dimmer, until I couldn't hear them anymore. Only then, did Diego shift me slightly.

"I know you heard every word of that," he said to me. I still had my head buried in his shoulder, but I made face just as well.

Fucking Bat people.

"How did you know?" I asked, sitting up. I moved out of his lap and onto the chair beside him. He stared forward, looking off into space.

"Your breathing changed. Your nose stopped whistling." He grinned slightly. "You stopped mumbling."

I glared at him as his grin widened. "I don't mumble," I declared, knowing perfectly well that I did.

"Who is this Morelli you spoke about?" he asked me, his face growing serious. I sighed and dropped my head to my hands.

"I need to sleep," I said, lifting my head. I went to stand up, but Diego reached over and held my arm.

"You can't, can you?" he asked me. I bit my lip as he stared into my eyes, then sighed and sat back down.

"Fine," I groaned, twisting around to get comfortable. "I'll sleep here."

"Who was he?" Diego asked, ignoring my sour face. "What happened to him?"

"He was a friend," I said vaguelly. "I'm tired, can we talk about this later?"

"No."

Ugh.

Diego pulled me back into his lap, until my head was again on his shoulder. "Who is Morelli, and why is it that each time I speak his name you cringe?"

I lowered my head once again, and sighed. "Morelli. He used to be a cop, used to be my boyfriend."

"Okay," Diego encouraged, giving me a 'carry on' look. "What happened?"

So I told him. Everything. About the Slayers, about Terry Gilman's betrayal, the shooting, the ambulance, the hospitals, the specialists, the psychiatrists, the scientists, the machines, the tests, the results, the statistics. The chances of getting shot in the head and not dying instantly, the chances of coming out of the surgical room alive, the chances of coming out of the coma, the chances of ever speaking, seeing, walking, talking, understanding, learning. The odds of ever remembering.

Throughout the entire explanation, Diego held me tight, interrupting only to ask me to clarify. He let me talk, let me cry, and, somewhere around six in the morning, let me sleep peacefully for the first time in months.

Review, and stuff. I seriously wanna know.. Who is your favorite Merry Man? 1.) Lester 2.) Tank 3.) Bobby 4.) Junior 5.) Dodge 6.) Cal 7.) Hector

8.) Hal 9.) Other (fill in name)