A/N: Standard disclaimer applies to this story.
Highlands Girl, thank you so much for everything, I'm truly lucky to have you as my friend and beta.
It's still Thursday on the West Coast, so I'm claiming that I managed to stick to the posting schedule despite all the excitement that real life tossed my way this week. Hurricane Sandy brought about a few challenges, and not all of them bad. Yes, much like many of my fellow New Jerseyans, we are still dealing with a power outage, lack of heat, and damages to our house. But, everyone in my family is okay, including the latest addition. This morning, I was discharged from the hospital with my newborn son. And since now I'm a mother of two and on maternity leave, I plan to spend some quality time with my boys and, hopefully, write.
As far as the next chapter posting, I may have to skip next week, since the utility co is telling us that the power won't be back up until the ninth. I hope you stick with me through the brief interruption. Thank you for all reviews and alerts, your support of this story means more than I can say. With that, I conclude what has to be the longest author's note and give you the next chapter...
Chapter 5. I've said too much, I haven't said enough
Startled awake, Stephanie sat up, tangled in the covers, panting. Unable to figure out what had woken her, she rubbed her face to clear the vestiges of sleep and took in her surroundings. She found herself in the bedroom of Ranger's house in Rumson, which meant that despite her hope to the contrary, everything that happened the night before wasn't a dream.
Judging by the sunlight filtering between the silk blackout drapes, she must have slept through the morning. She ran her palm over the other side of the bed, encountering nothing but cold sheets.
Big shock there… Batman has a world to save. He doesn't have time to babysit your mopey ass.
Her pep talk did little to lessen the disappointment that came from Ranger leaving without waking her. Falling back, she shut her eyes and then, burying her face in his pillow, took a deep breath to inhale as much of his scent as she could, before flopping on her back to stare at the ceiling.
Looking around the room, she was trying to convince herself that she had to get up, when her gaze fell on a black duffle bag in the wingback chair. Since she was certain the bag wasn't there the night before, it was the final push needed to make her leave the bed. Rummaging through the contents of the duffle, she was thrilled to find her handbag, clean clothes and underwear, and a large cosmetic bag filled with Mr. Alexander's hair products and makeup. She plugged her phone into an outlet and, forgoing checking her messages, made a beeline for the bathroom. Spending the requisite hour taking care of the essentials lifted her spirits and gave her enough courage to face the day.
Smelling the decadent aroma of freshly brewed coffee from downstairs, Stephanie followed her nose to the kitchen, where she found a petite Latina with corkscrew curls, pulled back into a high ponytail, puttering around the large space. When the woman caught sight of Stephanie standing at the threshold, she broke into a wide grin and spoke in a warm slightly accented voice.
"Good morning, Stephanie. Did you sleep well? I'm Maritza, the housekeeper, yes?" Shooting another approving glance in her direction, the woman nodded and continued in her bubbly voice, "Very good, you found the bag I put in your bedroom. Ella sent it over with Lester. That boy is an incorrigible flirt, isn't he? Just like my late husband Tadd, God rest his soul," she made a fleeting sign of the cross, "what am I babbling about, you must be hungry! Let me pour you a cup of coffee. You take cream and sugar, yes? Waffles and pancakes are warming in the oven… Or, if you'd rather have eggs, I could whip up an omelet?"
The rapid fire of her words didn't cease until Stephanie was seated at the granite breakfast bar with a mug of steaming coffee and a plate, piled high with delicious food.
"Thank you, this smells amazing. I don't want to be any more trouble." Stephanie took a sip from her mug, savoring the rich taste of the eye opening liquid, and let out a soft moan.
Maritza smiled at her vocal appreciation. "Oh, honey, don't be silly. It's no trouble at all. I don't get to cook for Ranger or his men too often, and after Tadd was killed in a convoy ambush six years ago, I don't bother making breakfast at home. My boys won't eat anything other than cold cereal. Kids these days know nothing of the joys of food." She winked, sparks of mischief dancing in her warm chocolate eyes. "So? How about that omelet?"
"Oh no, this is more than enough," Stephanie said absently, feeling the onset of the unfamiliar sensation that had woken her up earlier. The electric current surging through her body came in ebbs and flows without an apparent cause. If it didn't bother her so much, she would have loved nothing more than to chat with the animated woman, who appeared to enjoy sharing stories.
"Well, eat, then! Eat, before everything gets cold."
Maritza's words cut through Stephanie's daze, making her realize that she neglected her breakfast, which had never happened to her before. She gave an apologetic smile to the housekeeper and dug into her food, shelving her musings for the time being.
"I'll get out of the way… If you need me, I'll be in the garden tending to roses." Maritza took a pair of pruning shears out of her pocket and made a clipping sound, before heading for the double glass doors.
Watching as the housekeeper disappeared from view, Stephanie decided to take a self-guided tour of the house, figuring that since Ranger had left her there, she had his implied consent. He'd known her well enough to realize that it would be an opportunity she'd never pass up.
After finishing her breakfast, she refilled the coffee mug and headed into the foyer. Ever since she spotted the armor in the library, when Ranger had brought her to the house, she couldn't get it off her mind and wanted a closer look. Walking through the airy space, she remembered the story he had told her last night and wondered if this was the armor that had once failed him. Approaching the stand, she studied the intricate scrollwork on the shoulders and chest of the suit. She couldn't tell whether it had ever been used because it was so well polished that she could almost see her own reflection in the armor.
Setting her mug on a side table, she ran her fingers over the cold steel plates, then slid them to the engraved pommel of the sword and over its ornate guard. Making a mental note to ask Ranger about the armor, she yelped in pain, when her finger slipped along the blade and its edge sliced through her flesh. She should have known that Ranger's sword would be more than just a beautiful artifact. Sucking on her finger, she tasted blood, but never felt the sting that normally came with a cut. Confused, she took the finger from her mouth and stared at the unbroken skin.
When Ranger had told her that her body would heal its wounds, she never imagined he meant it would happen that quickly. She wondered if larger wounds took longer, but wasn't about to test the theory.
What am I, nuts? That hurt like a bitch… One thing is to do it by accident, but on purpose… just no, she thought, turning to pick up her mug and stepping away from the sharp sword.
At the other end of the room, Stephanie saw a set of double doors. A twin of Ranger's desk from Haywood was peeking from the other side, which had to be the study. Making her way toward it, Stephanie walked along the bookshelves, noticing that the early editions of The Iliad, The Odyssey and The Art of War found their place next to complete works of Shakespeare and Cervantes.
The study was done in the same rich mahogany as the library and Ranger's office on Haywood. Ensconced in his chair, she basked in the faint scent of Bulgari ingrained in the supple leather and stared at the ocean beyond the deck outside the window. But as another surge of electricity zipped through her, she realized that sitting there wasn't getting her any closer to figuring out the cause of the odd sensation. The view forgotten, she rose from the chair intent to leave the study, when her gaze fell on a picture at the corner of the desk.
The black and white photograph was faded, but the faces of the four men were still recognizable. Ignoring the increasing zing of electricity rushing through her body, she clutched the frame in her hand and moved closer to the window to examine it. After studying the photograph for a few minutes, any doubt that she might have had evaporated. As she was trying to figure out if she was troubled or relieved by the discovery, Lester's voice with an uncharacteristic southern drawl startled her.
"Camp Forrest, Tennessee. Fall of 1943."
She spun around to see him leaning against the door jamb with a coffee mug in his hand and a grin on his face.
"Give a girl a heart attack, why don'tcha?"
"Take it easy, Beautiful. I thought you knew that I was behind you."
"Seriously, Les? How?" She rolled her eyes. "Don't you think if I could, I'd avoid the 'you've got to be more aware of your surroundings, Babe,' spiel every time shit hit the fan?"
Lester chuckled at her imitation of Ranger, but sobered quickly. "Oh fuck… He didn't tell you, did he?"
"Tell me what?"
"That's a tough one to explain." He raked his free hand through his spiky hair and pushed off the jamb. "It's not the same for everyone." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Did anything seem different about the way you felt before you saw me?"
"I don't know… To tell you the truth, I've been feeling off all morning. But now that you mention it… it did get more intense right before you scared the crap out of me."
"Considering I've been in the house for the last few hours, that makes sense."
Studying the faraway expression on his face, she tried to figure out what he meant, but it was far from obvious.
Standing next to her, Lester looked over her head at the ocean and then down at the picture she was still holding in her hands, and wondered if she was consciously tracing Ranger's image with her finger. Running his hand through his hair again, he finally met her eyes. "You'll get used to it eventually."
She set the picture back on the desk with a thud and folded her arms across her chest. "Les, can you drop the cryptic bullshit and use plain language?"
"I don't know what it's like for you, since I can hardly explain what it feels like, but I always know when another immortal is close. In the beginning, the sensation was a bit much, but not anymore."
"How close?"
"You're asking about me? Or you?"
"Both, I guess?"
"Sorry, Beautiful, you'll have to figure out what sets off your radar on your own. Trial and error. Mine is far from the best. But you can't be the best at everything, right?" He gave her a saucy wink. "Now, Ranger's..." He stopped himself before finishing the thought and looked away.
"What about Ranger's? You can't say something like that and expect me to drop it." She tried invading his personal space, but his height worked against her.
He easily dodged her angry glare. "My bad. You'll have to ask him. Or wait to see it in action."
Knowing she wouldn't get much from Lester once he decided to keep mum, she turned and headed for the doors to the deck, an exasperated dismissal tossed over her shoulder. "Fine. Then if there's nothing else, I'd like to be alone now."
"Hey, Beautiful, don't be like that."
She studied the patterns of the stone deck, realizing she was acting as a petulant child, but didn't feel the need to make it easier on him. It was his own fault for opening his big mouth and then cutting her off at the knees. She didn't think anyone would fault her for getting aggravated or giving him a hard time for teasing her curiosity the way he did. So she was going to keep her silence, waiting for him to either tell her what she wanted to know, or leave.
"We all served in the Fifth."
The flat tone of his normally cheerful voice had her whipping about to find him staring at the photo. Seemingly unaware of her attention, he carried on, "I met these three great guys while training at Camp Forrest, Tennessee. We were Rangers! What could have been better? I was ready to be a hero - young, eager, and fucking clueless," he spat the last words out with disdain, looking away from the picture.
The haunted expression she caught in his eyes was nothing like she'd ever seen before. Lester, the merciless tease, was missing and someone else was here instead.
When Lester spoke again, his voice was flat, as though he was trying to separate himself from the memory. "Eight months after this was taken, we were deployed to Omaha Beach, Normandy. The One Sixteenth landed ashore and was pinned down by machine gun and mortar fire from the cliffs above. It was a damn bloodbath. After breaking through four lines of defensive obstacles in the water, we had to scale up the elevation to give them cover. I almost made it." A lackluster smirk twisted the corner of his mouth. "At war, 'almost' doesn't count for shit. Bobby carried me out and helped clean up the mess. I didn't ask too many questions until we were behind enemy lines. Managed to get through half the central Europe, before knowing which end was up."
"I'm sorry, Les."
She couldn't think of anything else to say, so she pulled him into a tight hug, feeling guilty for her earlier behavior. A few moments later, when he stepped back from her embrace, she asked, "Bobby knew you were immortal, before you did?"
"No. Bobby was next to me, when I took the bullet. But he didn't know until after." He looked straight into her eyes, to see if she got the implication.
She chewed on her bottom lip, and then asked, "Ranger?"
When Lester nodded, she clenched her fists, as a tidal wave of anger swallowed all rational thought. "Where the fuck is he? Where's that rat bastard?"
Despite promising her full disclosure, he didn't give her any detail beyond what he felt she needed to know. She couldn't believe that of all the things to hold back, he had chosen this one.
Stephanie stormed out of the study with Lester hot on her heels. He wasn't sure whether Ranger had returned to the house yet, but if he had, Lester had to be there for their conversation. And he didn't care what fueled his motivation, running interference or witnessing the fallout.
Contemplating the ways Ranger could kick his ass for telling Stephanie something he deliberately left out, Lester stopped just in time to avoid running into her back, when she froze in her tracks at the threshold to the library.
Hanging on the back wall over the fireplace, the painting in a heavy gilded frame was a sight to behold. A horseman in full conquistador armor was brandishing his sword. The resemblance between Ranger and the man in the painting left no question about the subject.
She must have missed the portrait on her way in, preoccupied with the contents of the bookshelves. "Well, this certainly answers the question if he'd ever worn it," she muttered under her breath.
Lester understood her reaction, remembering that his own wasn't much different when he saw it for the first time. "Rumor has it," he quietly spoke over her ear, "that this painting was commissioned to Diego Velasquez in early 1600s by Juan Carlos Mañoso, an explorer who earned considerable wealth by hunting pirates of the Caribbean at the behest of the Spanish Crown. He also happened to be a great nephew of Carlos Francisco de Mendoza, the conquistador tragically perished on the coast of Venezuela, and a distant ancestor to Ricardo Carlos Mañoso." A chuckle broke through Lester's seemingly serious façade. "This work has never left the Mañoso family estate or been catalogued among the known works of Velasquez, but the attribution of the portrait has never been questioned."
"So that's really him?" she breathed, stunned by having tangible proof of Ranger's age staring her in the face.
"Vanity." Lester grinned with immense satisfaction, waggling his eyebrows. "Definitely my favorite sin."* The prankster she knew so well was finally back. His imitation of Al Pacino was dead on, and she laughed 'til she cried, despite wanting to hit something, or rather someone, in the face, with a Louisville Slugger.
Laced with barely concealed irritation, the sound of Ranger's voice from the intercom broke the jovial mood.
"Santos, if you're done sharing, get your ass downstairs."
"Downstairs?" Stephanie mouthed at Lester, raising both her eyebrows. They were on the first floor, and since she hadn't seen a door to the basement when she walked around the house, she assumed that there wasn't one, as basements were uncommon in the shore houses of New Jersey.
He shrugged, cracking an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Steph. Duty calls."
Her hands went to her hips and her face took on a defiant expression. "Oh, hell no! If you're thinking of leaving me up here, you can forget it. I'm coming with you."
Lester wasn't about to argue with her, when she was wearing this stubborn look, and would let Ranger handle it. If he had a woman like Stephanie Plum vying for his attention, he wouldn't think twice about taking everything she was willing to offer. But he wasn't Ranger, and psychoanalyzing his boss, mentor, and friend was low on his priorities list. With a shrug, he swaggered over to the fireplace and looked back at her, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"We wouldn't want to leave the boss-man waiting, now, would we, Beautiful?"
She didn't respond, watching him push the silver candelabra on top of the mantel. A moment later, the fireplace slid off to the side without a sound, revealing a domed foyer with a spiral staircase leading down. Offering a flabbergasted Stephanie his arm, Lester asked, "Shall we?"
A/N: *Lester is quoting The Devil's Advocate.
A few reviews/messages commented on chapter names, and some recognized them as quotes from song lyrics.
Originally, I didn't plan it that way, but a soundtrack created itself as I was working on the outline of the plot for the story. If you'd like to listen to it, I've started building a playlist and added the link to my profile. I will be updating it as the story moves along, so I don't 'spoil' you before the next chapter is posted.
Since I'd started posting this story, I received a few comments that compelled me to put another author's note that explains the its premise.
In this universe, which, in my opinion, fits within the realm of canon, especially if you squint a bit, Ranger, Steph and the RangeMan core team are all immortal. A very savvy reader pointed out, thank you masterb2, that their being immortal puts this story into the realm of supernatural, which would mean that none of these characters are human.
Strictly speaking that would probably be true, but I decided to look into the concept of immortality in broader terms. As it often happens in such situations, I turned to my favorite place to start the research for my stories, Wikipedia, and this is what I found:
Immortality is the ability to live forever, or put another way, it is an immunity from death. It is unknown whether human physical (material) immortality is an achievable condition —biological forms have inherent limitations which may or may not be able to be overcome through medical interventions or engineering. And even should human biological immortality be achieved, people could still continue to die from unforeseeable traumatic events.