A/N: This is the author's note I should have put on the front end of this story.
When I wrote this story many years ago, it was purely for the entertainment of myself and my writing group. The first scene came to me, I had to write it out, I was encouraged by my peers to continue. The story was meant to be a character driven, as opposed to action or plot driven. There is some action, there's obviously a plot, but ultimately, the focus was meant to be on character development, and the eventual emotional maturing of the deeply flawed characters JE gave us. You are meant to see their worst (sometimes annoying) flaws, watch them hash out all the crap JE won't ever let them hash out, then see them self-evaluate, get their poop in a group, and become the couple we want them to be. The suspense angle and action are secondary to the emotional development.
If you find the Stephanie I've written annoying … welcome to my world! She's a (perpetually) 30 year- old woman willingly dating the man who publicly humiliated her as a teenager, lunged at her as if intending to physically attack her in book 1, has banged so many women in their hometown he can't remember if he ever banged his own distant cousin, and 'has good luck with sluts'. Stephanie repeatedly shuns the job security of Rangeman and still regularly mooches food and laundry services off her mother. Her character has actually regressed since book 1. She has become someone hard for women like myself to relate to. Which explains why I stopped reading at book 14 and I've erased 13 and 14 from memory. The series ends at 12 for me.
This story is also meant to be angsty, dark, and angry. So be warned, the story doesn't eventually become more upbeat. The focus of the angst does shift, though, and it does have an HEA (happily ever after).
That said, Ranger and Steph should be turning an emotional corner around chapter 8, though I think there are glimpses of the shift in this chapter. There are 16 chapters total in Underground.
Now on with the story!
Chapter 6
She couldn't sleep. Inundated with information, her mind was reeling. Some thoughts obviously connected, others seemingly unconnected but adding to both her burden and confusion.
What was Joe going to say when she spoke to him? She was certain that once he assured himself that she was okay he would do either of two things: he would push the things Ranger said under the rug, along with the myriad of other issues the two of them refused to discuss, or he would confront her head on. Her money was on the former. Joe hadn't even denied that he'd been aware of her and Ranger's relationship and that he had been turning the other cheek. If anything, he seemed pissed that Ranger had brought it out in the open. Which made sense, since that was exactly the way she had felt at that moment as well.
Ranger's words echoed through her head. What kind of fucked up relationship do you two have? She loved Joe. She did. But if she were honest with herself, she had to admit that if she and Joe were meant to be, it wouldn't be this hard. Their differences weren't small ones. Her career, her choice in friends, her lack of interest in marriage and raising children were all huge obstacles between them. And she felt no desire to compromise on any of those issues.
And honestly, she couldn't fault him for having the feelings he did. He was entitled to want the things he wanted. She could fault him for thinking he could badger her into changing herself to be what he wanted. But if she started casting blame, she would have to admit that she had given Joe much less than he deserved to expect from a relationship. Anything she did give Joe, she gave grudgingly. She never asked herself why she viewed their relationship as a tug-of-war. She suspected that part of the answer was that she knew that they weren't a forever couple. The rest of the answer lay with the man down the hall.
Ranger had already returned from his nocturnal errands of grabbing their bags, returning the car and picking up groceries. Before he left, he had given her a tour of what remained of the bunker. The master bedroom held a queen-sized bed, a dresser, and two nightstands with lamps. There was a large walk-in closet that was half filled with clothes. The other half held a small cache of weapons and ammo, a large box of what she presumed were more MREs, and a safe. He had given her the combination to the safe. Inside were more IDs, passports and stacks of cash. There was also a second fob, which he gave to her. He'd pointed out the ceiling of the closet, explaining there was an emergency escape route there. He promised that tomorrow he would go over how to get out of the bunker in an emergency. She had to bite back an incredulous laugh when he'd said that. What constitutes an emergency when your life is already code red?
After seeing the container Ranger had prepared for her, she wasn't surprised to find that the both the dresser and the closet held clothes for her. When she grabbed things to sleep in before taking her shower, she was surprised at the undergarments he had chosen. The panties were simple cotton hipsters and briefs and the bras were just as ordinary, bordering on utilitarian. She would have thought that he would have decked her out in Victoria's Secret or La Perla, but it appeared when it came to outfitting his bunker, sex was the last thing on his mind.
Eventually, Stephanie nodded off and slept fitfully for a few hours. When she awoke again, she could hear the shower running down the hall. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she saw that it was after two in the morning. She had no idea if he planned to go to bed, and if he did, if he would sleep with her, or in the office on the daybed. Turning over, she tried valiantly to go back to sleep. It didn't work.
Minutes later, she heard the bedroom door swing open, then shut. Earlier, she'd noticed there was a deadbolt on the inside of the door. Now she heard the pronounced sound of it sliding home. Next came the sounds of a dresser drawer opening and closing, the dropping of his towel and what she assumed was Ranger stepping into boxers.
There was a cool rush of air at her back as he lifted the covers, then the bed dipped as he slid in behind her. Tense, she waited for him to curve his arm around her waist and pull her body into his. The expectation made no sense since they hadn't slept that way any of the previous nights. Her waiting was in vain; he didn't attempt to touch her, didn't come near her, and didn't even ask if she was still awake.
Opening her eyes she saw that the room was very slightly illuminated by a small nightlight that bathed the room in a soft blue glow. She rolled over and looked at Ranger. He was on his back, his far arm tucked behind his head and the one nearest her splayed on his bare stomach. His eyes were open and unseeing.
"Ranger," she whispered.
He blinked and said, "You need to get some sleep."
"We've been sleeping during the day so long, I don't know if I can."
"You need to try."
Another five minutes passed. "Ranger?"
"Mmmm?" He sounded half asleep and mildly annoyed.
"What if they find me?"
"I won't let that happen."
She studied his beautiful profile, and wondered what thoughts he was shielding behind his blank mask. "Ranger … anything could happen. You have to tell me what to expect."
He was silent so long, she thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally, he said, "If it's at all possible, get away. You've done it before. Use your instincts."
"And if I can't get away?"
He huffed out a sigh. "We'll work on some defensive strategies this week."
"What if it doesn't work? What if I can't get away? How do I—tell me how to survive this?"
His eyes shuttered closed as he said, "Babe … I … don't ask me to do this."
"Ranger, if I were anybody else, you would brief me. Give me scenarios. Help me prepare."
"But you're not anybody else."
She stayed silent a few beats, acknowledging that she heard his words and understood them. Then she said softly, "Please, Ranger. I can't go into this blind."
He opened his eyes once more and said to the ceiling, "No two scenarios are ever the same. I've already told you what his plans are. They will try to make you feel isolated from the world, make you believe that no one is looking for you, and even if they are, that you will never be found. Don't listen. As long as I have breath in my body, I will find you. If something happens to me, I have contingency plans. Others will find you. Know it and believe it. Don't ever let go of that.
"Don't show any weakness. If something hurts, it hurts. If you need to yell out or cry, that's okay. That's not weakness. It's a natural response to pain. Just don't beg them to stop. Don't ask for mercy. It will only encourage them to extend the session. At the same time, don't try to be too stoic. They might believe your pain threshold is high and escalate their methods more quickly. Cry; make noise, anything to let them hear you're in pain. Know that they have no intention of killing you. If they kill you, his ultimate plan for revenge has failed. They have no intention of making you a martyr."
He pulled his arm from under his head and rubbed at his face with both hands. "As to rape-" He cut off his words and swallowed audibly. Abruptly, he jackknifed into a sitting position and swung his legs to the floor on his side of the bed. She heard him mutter, "Fuck." He was taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. She watched his shoulders tense and the muscles in his back dance under his skin as he tried to get his emotions in check, emotions he refused to let her see.
With his back to her, he continued, "If you are already captive and there are no means for escape, don't fight it. It will only make it worse." The words themselves were delivered in low tones, but they came out forced and harsh from his mouth, as though the words were shards of glass, tearing at the walls of his throat. "Rape is an act of power and aggression. He's going to try to assert his power over you … over me. It's an act only the weakest and vilest of men can commit. Remember that none of this is your fault. Go away in your mind if you have to. Try to remember that no matter what he does to you or makes you do, you are not unclean." His deep voice cracked as he said, "You will always be worthy of love."
"Ranger." She reached out to stroke his back with the tips of her fingers. As if she hadn't spoken, he stood from the bed, leaving her hand hanging impotently in the air. In jerky movements, he fumbled the door open and left the room, slamming the door behind him. A few moments later, she startled as she heard an inhuman roar followed by a loud crash from the front room.
Before she realized what she was doing, she jumped off the bed, yanked the door open and ran down the short hall. What she found brought her up short. One of the ceramic lamps from the living room lay in shards against the furthest wall in the dining room. Ranger was on his knees in the center of the joined rooms, hunched over with his face in his hands. He was breathing in and out in deep measured pulls and pushes. She knew that he was attempting to harness the emotions that he'd allowed to go unchecked.
He'd left the room because he didn't want her to see it. In the past, she'd been in awe of Ranger's legendary control. He'd always told her to focus on the goal, to not waste energy on emotions. She felt a strange tightness in her chest at seeing him submit to something larger than himself. He had always been there for her and knew just what she needed to hear to overcome her self-imposed obstacles. She knew that he would hate her seeing him like this, but she couldn't walk away.
Stephanie softly padded over to him and whispered, "Ranger."
His hands dropped and his head jerked up. Her heart nearly broke. Eyes that were red and etched in grief, flared in outrage. Then he angled his head away from her. His voice harsh, he said, "Go."
Ignoring his command, she kneeled before him, raised her hand and threaded her fingers through the long strands of his hair. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw a shudder run the length of his body. Just as she would have pulled her hand away, he let out a sigh of defeat, and then he slowly tipped forward, burying his face in her lap.
He spoke gutturally into her thighs, his words hot gusts of breath against her skin. "I'm sorry, Babe. So sorry. I never meant…"
Hushing him, she brought her head down to gently rest atop his. "Ranger, you have nothing to apologize for."
His hands skimmed up her thighs to her hips, then back down again. He repeated the motion over and over again as if he were trying to soothe her, when she knew he was trying to soothe himself. Softly, he said, "I let you into my life."
Let her into his life? She was another man's girlfriend, or she was before this nightmare happened. She was somewhere between his friend and his lover, but he had never let her get too close.
When she lifted her head, he turned his to the side and she could see that his cheek was damp. Her hands itched to blot his face but she knew he wouldn't want her to acknowledge his moment of weakness. "So you're sorry we're friends?" she asked softly.
His voice was low when he said, "We're more than friends."
"Sorry I let you into my bed?"
"I pushed my way into your bed."
Pressing her lips against the hot skin of his neck, she said, "Because you knew I wanted you there. And you pushed your way back out again so you are not to blame for this."
His hands ceased their repetitive caresses on her thighs for a moment. "I didn't want to go."
"Then…"
He let out a shaky sigh and tipped his face down into her lap again. She resumed stroking his hair and said, "Ranger, I know that you … care for me. I didn't have any idea-" She cut off her words and started again. "You once told me to focus on my goal. That if I gave myself up to unproductive emotion, I couldn't focus on the goal."
He stilled. Turning his head to the side again, he said, "You remember that?"
"I remember ever single word you've ever said to me."
His eyes were directed off to the side but unfocused. He said, "I never thought I wanted a child. But I got one. I didn't mean to love her…"
"But you do."
He nodded. "Babe, I never meant-"
Unconsciously she tensed her hands in his hair making him stop mid-sentence. When she realized what she had done, she murmured a soft apology and began stroking his hair again.
He whispered, "Do you not want to hear me say it or do you not want me to feel it?"
Before she could answer, she heard something she hadn't heard in nearly a week: a phone ringing. Ranger stood stiffly, tugging her up with him. He made his way to the office, Stephanie close on his heels. Reaching across the desk, he snagged up the satellite phone. He didn't respond with a hello, or a 'yo', he just listened intently as he walked around the desk and sat down, booting up his computer.
When he looked up at her, his face was once again blank. He murmured something to the caller, palmed his hand over the receiver and said, "You need to get some sleep."
Stung, she backed out of the doorway and left him alone. Somehow, she made it back to the bedroom and climbed into bed. As she lay there, she wondered if she was strong enough to be loved by Ranger and to love him in return. She now realized that his comment about his lifestyle not lending itself to relationships was actually a massive understatement of epic proportions. Beyond the risks he took in his life, and the risks that had to be taken to be a part of his life, she wondered if she was strong enough to survive the cold and hot of his emotions, the only love he knew how to give. As she drifted off to sleep she realized that it didn't matter if she was strong enough. She already loved him.
