I don't own them, make no profit, etc….rating for language and smut

Thanks for all the reviews!

…

Ranger pummeled the punching bag, letting all the anger and energy pour out of him. "A fucking kid," he mumbled to himself, his fist making contact with the punching bag. And what were the chances. It all came back to those cursed pictures. If he hadn't shown Steph, she would have slept with Morelli instead of him, and it'd be Morelli's kid she was pregnant with and Morelli she was marrying...

He stopped abruptly. The punching bag, at the sudden loss of momentum, came flying back and struck him square in the chest.

He took a quick step back with an "umph" and reached out to steady the bag.

The sudden swamp of jealousy he felt only angered him even more. His fists shot out toward the bag again, connecting with a steady whap as his rhythm picked up momentum. The gym was silent, except for that sound.

What the fuck did he care if she was with Morelli? She could be with whomever she wanted, as long as it wasn't him. He'd told her since the beginning that he didn't want a relationship with her, and he'd meant every word. He still didn't.

He lunged for the bag, harder this time, his dark thoughts doing nothing to alleviate his frustration. The knuckle on his left hand split open - he could feel it, though the red leather exterior disguised any smears of blood - but still, he kept going. Kept pounding it, even though the sound of his ragged breathing was getting harsher in the silence.

His interactions with Steph over the past few months had been limited, and carefully devoid of any sexual tension. While she still crossed his mind with disturbing regularity, he'd been confident that he had gotten control over his desire for her.

Not even close.

The door to the gym burst open - the metal crashing against the cinder block wall. Ranger took a quick step back and caught the bag as it swung. Tank walked toward him.

"Problem?"

Tank studied him a second before answering. "Fargo just showed at McAllister's bar downtown."

With no conscious effort on his part, objectivity descended, shrouding his emotions. His eyesight sharpened, his heartbeat dropped, his breathing evened out. "Get four two-men teams. Fargo is a runner, so position two teams in the bar, one on State behind McAllister's and one on the corner of Hamilton and Grey. Pin him in."

Tank nodded. "You want Junior on State Street?"

"Yes. Make sure Lester's in the car on Hamilton."

Tank hesitated before leaving. He glanced at Ranger's hands. "Everything okay?"

"Just get the job done," he said. Though it could have applied to either of them.

…

Ranger turned the elevator back on and rode up to the seventh floor. He hadn't thought Steph would leave, but he knew she wouldn't walk down seven flights of stairs to do so. He let himself into the apartment. The TV was on, and she was staring blankly at it. She didn't look up at him. He walked over and sat down beside her on the couch.

"I handled that badly," he said.

An astonished sound escaped her. "You think?"

An awkward silence descended.

"You can't be mad at me over this," she said.

"I know."

She turned to him with a disbelieving stare.

"I'm trying, Steph," he said.

They sat in silence for a moment, both staring at whatever was flashing across the TV screen. He had no idea what was on, and doubted that she did either.

"I'm not asking you for anything, Ranger. I just told you because it was the right thing to do. I'm not asking you to do anything with the information."

For a split second, he wished it were that simple. That he could walk away - just write her a check and say 'good riddance.' Maybe then he could stop thinking that this spelled destruction for both of them. But of course, he couldn't. "It's still my responsibility. You've been to the doctor, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I've been. I'm not dumb. Everything's fine, the baby's fine, I'm fine."

"Morning sickness?"

"It's gone now."

He nodded but didn't say anything else. He didn't know what else there was to say. A baby - just the thought still shocked him. His hands flexed, tightening into fists. He fought to keep his anger at bay, to hold on to the objectivity he had found in the gym. Christ, he hadn't had to work this hard to stay in control in fifteen years.

But he wasn't angry with her, and it wasn't fair to take it out on her. The only thing she had done wrong was to get caught up in his inability to control himself.

"We're not really getting married, are we?" she said. "Because I'm not okay with that."

"Get over it."

She jumped off the couch. He stared at her, but didn't move. "I'm not marrying you, Ranger. It's fucking 2008 - who gets married over a baby?"

He didn't reply.

She stomped her foot. "I mean it. I'm not marrying you. You have to have consent in this country to get married, and I'm not doing it. I'll scream bloody murder the whole time."

He regulated his breathing and kept his voice impassive. "There's a judge in Miami who owes me a favor. I'm sure he can ignore your screams for help."

Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him.

"Do you have an actual objection?"

"Yes, I have an objection! I don't want to get married - that's my objection! I don't want to get divorced again and I don't want to be bullied into a sham of a marriage."

He pulled on her arm so she landed on the couch beside him. He focused on the logic, keeping his voice calm and toneless. "It'll set up legal precedent for paternity, allow custody and child support to be decided quicker, prevent any problems with the baby's last name, and make baptism go smoother. Not to mention that it will be demanded by both families, and will keep both you and this child out of the line of fire with the town gossip."

She seemed to almost deflate beside him, all the fight draining out of her. She sighed and leaned back on the couch cushion. "I didn't think of all that."

"It needs to be done, Steph," he said.

She blinked furiously, like she was a second away from tearing up. He clamped down on the tenderness welling up in him, refusing to give into that even less than he would give into the anger. Still, he said, "Why don't you get some sleep. Tell me what you want to take with you - I'll run over to your apartment and get it. We need to leave pretty early in the morning."

She sat up and shook her head. "I'll go with you. You'd miss something important like hair gel and I'll end up looking like Don King."

Without thinking, he tugged on a curl. "We can't have that."

…

She followed him to the garage, and sank into the leather seats of the Porsche. The engine purred to life, and she watched out the window as he wove through the dark streets. Her stomach was tight, a ball of nerves at what the next few days were going to bring. She wasn't the type of woman who cried easily, or in front of people. But had she been alone, she would have burst into tears. They were going to get married, she and Ranger, and then get a divorce. The thought made her heart ache.

Anyone else in the world, hell even Joe, and she would have gone along with it. With their families, this town, the legalities – on a logical level it made sense. And knowing what his moral code was like, she knew he wasn't going to back down. But going through a sham of a marriage with a man she was desperately in love with, knowing it meant nothing to him, might just kill her.

She gave herself a mental smack to the head for being melodramatic. She could deny anything - those skills would serve her well now. So what if he didn't love her? She slid a hand over her belly, concentrating on the life within her. They would be just fine on their own, just the two of them.

And besides, while he had been in the gym beating someone or something up, she had scrubbed the inside of his toilet rim with his toothbrush. It had taken a while to find a spot of grime Ella had missed, but was persistent. She had also mixed a cup of sugar into his protein-shake mix. It had been more gratifying than walking down seven flights of stairs. She just hadn't had the energy to run away, only to be tracked down.

She glanced up when Ranger put the car in park. They were already at her apartment. Once inside, she grabbed a duffel bag and started gathering up enough clothes, hair stuff, and make-up for a couple days.

Of course, there was the question of what one wears while being forced into a wedding. Should she wear a dress? Jeans? She sat down on the bed and dropped her head into her hands. This is not how she had pictured her relationship with Ranger. Questions were pouring through her mind faster than she could think up answers for. What were they going to do? Pretend there was nothing between them? Would she live here or live at RangeMan or live with him or was he still going to stay in Miami? And the worst question of all, how could their friendship possibly survive this?

She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. Dropping back on the bed, she found her thinking position. But thinking wasn't helping. She prayed they would only have to sign something for a judge, and not recite vows. There was no way she could say those words, and hear Ranger say them back, knowing that he didn't mean it.

The door opened, and Ranger stood there, staring down at her. His face was still blank. She was going to scream if she didn't see some form of emotion from him. Even the bits of anger she had seen peeking through earlier were better than this cold impassiveness. "I can't do this," she said, her voice cracking as she said it.

"Yes, you can." He stared at her for another moment. The only thing she could make out from his posture and expression was that he wasn't going to relent. Clearing her throat, she sat up. She rubbed her hands over her face, fighting the urge to cry or beg. Acid welled up in her stomach.

"Do you have everything you need?" he said.

She tried to take a deep breath but it came out as more of a gasp. "I still need makeup and hair stuff."

He picked up the bag off the floor and pushed it into her hands. "Grab it. We'll stop and get you some ice cream on the way back."

She nodded, no longer having the energy to fight him. Her life was slipping out of her control, and she didn't like the feeling. She took the bag and finished packing.

The ride back to RangeMan was just as silent as the ride from it had been. She followed him up to the apartment. As they walked in, he handed her the bag of ice cream from the convenience store. She had to smile at that - he had ran in and grabbed her her favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry's without her even asking. She grabbed a spoon and plopped down on the couch, using the sugar to finally bring her swirling thoughts to a halt. None of those questions in her head were doing her any good, anyway.

Ranger sat down beside her with a spoon. He reached for the pint of B&J's. "Give me some of that."

Her eyes opened wide and she hauled the ice cream close to her chest. "No! You don't eat ice cream. And I need this."

He reached over and easily plucked it from her hands. Bastard. "It's been a bad day for me too." He scooped out a big spoonful and handed it back to her. She watched, incredulous, as he ate it.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I have never seen you eat ice cream."

Without responding, he took the container from her again. He ate another spoonful before handing it back. She grabbed her own spoonful before he stole it again. They sat there, in the silence, sharing the pint of ice cream until it was gone.

…

Steph lay in bed, trying to fall asleep. The shower was running, the minutes ticking down until Ranger would finish and join her. She wanted to be asleep before he came in, but the tension in her body was making that impossible.

She took a deep breath through her nose, forcing herself to relax, and released it through her mouth. It worked, until the shower shut off. The sudden silence made every muscle in her body contract again. She wiggled her legs and blew out a sigh, listening to him move around in the bathroom. The door opened, a soft light spilling into the bedroom that was immediately extinguished. She listened for his footsteps, but didn't hear anything. It wasn't until the covers moved and the edge of the mattress dipped that she even realized he was next to the bed.

"You can relax, Steph," he said, settling beside her. Because it was a king sized mattress, there was plenty of room between them. A buffer. "I'm not going to bite."

"I am relaxed," she said, cringing at the tremor in her voice.

His arm moved and his suddenly his fingers were curling around hers, anchoring her. He seemed to hesitate before saying, "It'll be over before you know it, I promise."

"Okay." She hated how panicked her voice sounded. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to pretend like this didn't matter, like it wouldn't affect her, since it obviously didn't matter to him. Then again, of the two of them, he had always been a better actor.

She concentrated on the feel of his fingers and finally fell asleep.

…

Two hours after landing in Miami, Steph followed Ranger up the steps of the courthouse. Huge pillars stood across the front of the imposing structure. She looked around as she followed him - people were rushing around, confident of why they were there and what they would accomplish. Steph had no such confidence.

He hadn't spoken to her on the trip, other than to give her orders: sit there, follow here. It was as if that one flash of tenderness from the night before was just her imagination. Or maybe he was regretting even that small hint of yielding.

She had dressed in jeans and a cute top, because she hadn't been able to figure out what was appropriate to wear. It's not like there would be any pictures to commemorate the event anyway. He was wearing cargo pants and a black t-shirt.

The only thing that made her feel better had been watching him brush his teeth.

She followed Ranger as he navigated through the maze of elevators and hallways, finally stopping at a closed door. Ranger rapped twice on the door, and then opened it. An older man, Hispanic, she thought, was seated behind a desk, looking distinguished with his graying hair and reading glasses. He was wearing a tie, but no jacket. A black robe hung on a hanger behind him.

"Carlos," he said, his voice warm and intimate. He came around the desk and held out his hand, which Ranger grasped in his own.

"How are you, Your Honor?"

The man laughed and squeezed Ranger's hand. "None of that now. And I'm doing just fine. You had Sarah panicked when you called the house last night. I was happy to tell her that it was good news this time that had you in need of my services."

Ranger chuckled. "She shouldn't worry. I haven't been in trouble in years." He tugged Steph's arm, bringing her closer, and introduced her. "This is Judge Melendez, a close friend of my father's," he said to her.

Steph smiled and held out her hand, murmuring all the right pleasantries, while she frantically thought through her options. She had come with every intention of making a scene, screaming objections and generally being such a pain in the ass that no judge would take her actions for consent. The warmth and regard in which the Judge held Ranger, however, not to mention the family connection, made her hesitant.

The conversation around her switched to Spanish, leaving her free to follow her wandering thoughts. As Ranger spoke quickly, the Judge frowned and nodded, looking serious. Then he glanced between them and to Stephanie, he said, "Ah, I see how it is then."

She turned to Ranger. "What did you just say to him?"

"I explained our situation," he said. He said 'situation' like it was something distasteful.

She glanced back at the Judge, who was looking at her with such pity he seemed only a second away from patting her hand and crooning, 'you poor dear.' Well, screw family connections, she thought. "I'm not consenting to this," she said, planting her hands on her hips. "I'm not marrying him."

"Of course," said the Judge. He sat behind his desk, propped his reading glasses on his nose, and studied a stack of papers in front of him. He pushed the top sheet toward Ranger. "Carlos, if you'll start by signing here," he said.

Ranger leaned down and signed his name. He handed her the pen with a dark look that dared her to cause a scene.

She glanced back and forth between the men. Startled, she noticed that the Judge's expression was almost identical to Ranger's heated stare. Refusing to be cowed, she crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not doing it. This is ridiculous. You can't force me into a marriage."

Judge Meledez leaned back in his towering leather chair. "Actually, Stephanie, I could. I would suggest that you simply sign." His voice, while being as kind as a grandfather's, had that same steely vein of authority that Ranger's held.

She took a small step backwards. "No."

Ranger's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened. She instinctively took another step backwards. He reached over, unlocked her arm from over her chest, and shoved the pen in her hand. "Sign," he all but growled.

She shook her head and tried to drop the pen.

"Sign the papers, Stephanie," the Judge said, his voice perfectly calm, as if he had no part in this little drama. "Or I will have you arrested for contempt."

Ranger closed her fingers around the pen, drawing her attention back to him.

She met his eyes. "Please, Ranger."

His expression didn't change. It was ironic really. He was always the one she turned to when she needed help, when she needed saved from something. Instinctively, she had turned to him, thinking he would rescue her from even this.

Of course, he wouldn't.

She glanced again at the Judge, but he had clearly cast his loyalties with Ranger. She caved, as everyone in the room had known she would, and stepped forward. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring the page she was looking at. When the line above her printed name came into focus, she leaned down and signed, cursing the lack of control she now had over her own life.

She planted the pen on the desk with a thud and glared at both men.

Ranger ignored her, turning his attention back to the Judge. "Gracias, Tio Jaime. Tell Aunt Sarah to stop worrying so much."

The Judge's authoritative face relaxed back into the warm smile he had greeted them with. He came around the desk placed an arm around Ranger's shoulder as he walked him to the door. "We will see you and Julie for Christmas?"

"Of course."

"Good. Now go and let me have a private word with your wife."

Stephanie stood mute, her anger growing at not only having been manipulated by someone who turned out to his uncle - friend of the family, my ass! - but now by being forced to extend this further. Ranger stared at her for a moment, his gaze menacing, before finally nodded and stepping into the hall.

"Sit down, Stephanie," the Judge said, waving at a chair before sitting in the one opposite it. "I would like a quick word with you before you go."

There was a part of her brain that reminded her this was a judge and she should act accordingly, but that was overridden by the part that was plain pissed at their high-handed treatment of her. She glared and stayed silent.

"My wife and I have always been fond of Carlos, ever since he was a boy. In spite of the life he has chosen for himself, or perhaps because of it, he has a very old-fashioned sense of honor. He never neglects his responsibilities. We both know that he will provide for this child everything he or she will ever need. This is the one thing he is asking of you in return, and its a simple enough thing to undo in a few months. Would you really deny him so much?"

Steph stared at him, tears pricking the backs of her eyes, as she tried to sort through what he was telling her. Her gaze dropped to the marriage certificate on his desk, signed already by both of them.

"Is there a reason you have for not wanting to marry him?" the judge asked in that grandfatherly voice.

She pressed a hand to her throat and tried to keep those pent-up tears from falling. "I can't...I just..." She stopped, having no idea how to explain her jumbled emotions, to herself or anyone else. She stared down at their two signatures, side-by-side and sealing them into a loveless union when all she had wanted in the first place was his love.

"I think I see what the problem is." This time he did reach out and pat her hand. "Don't give up hope, Stephanie."

Miserably, she nodded her head, before stepping out into the hallway in search of her husband.

…