Okay, it didn't take long this time. The inspiration-bug bit me and I had to write!

A while a go I asked you to answer a few questions on my page and I thank you all who did that! The answers were great and very useful in my ten-page project. It's almost finnished and I have just one more thing I need to ask you guys; What is the sterotype of Finns? Or your experience with them? And the steriotype of Americans? Send me a PM and you'll be on my Angels-on-earth list :)

Thanks for your reviews and kind words, they light up my day here in the cold and dark north. :)

Not mine

Stephanies POV

I watched Lesters back as he walked towards the door meeting Bobby. I know he was disappointed that I hadn't allowed Ranger to come and see me, but I was scared. I was scared about a lot of things including that he might not want to see me again and the fear of that he might think that it would be wise if I didn't see my son anymore. Oh, the thought of my son made my heart stop and my stomach turned. I missed my son, my angelito, the reason of my being. It was like half of me was missing and I couldn't stop worrying about him even though I knew that he was in capable hands. I knew that Ella would take good care of him but I wanted him to be here with me. I also knew why they refused me to see him.

The thought of me trying to attack Lester hurts me more than I want to share. He's my best friend and I tried to kill him! I put my head in my hands, burying my head and trying to get rid of the feeling of disbelief and embarrassment.

Lester had been my rock since this ordeal started and I wanted to let him know how much he meant to me. He had calmed me after my nightmare and had taken care of me first. I loved him for that and I hoped he knew that he was my best friend and that that was as far as I would go with him. I love Ranger. And the thing that scares me the most is that I cannot remember him properly. I remember certain things about him like the fact that he has a scar on his right shoulder blade and that eats chocolate cake only if I ask. But I can't remember his face and that scares me beyond any other thing. I can't remember how the love of my life looks like, the father of my son and the keeper of my soul and heart. I could feel the sob rip through my ribs and the salty tears make stripes on my cheeks.

"Bomber, are you alright?" I heard Bobby's worried voice and knew that he had heard my sob. I lifted my face and looked into the familiar green eyes and memories flooded my mind. I remembered all the stake-outs with him, all the medical stuff, everything. I flung myself on him and cried against his shoulder. I felt him tense up at first but then relax and pull me closer to him. I knew that I was running his shirt and that he didn't care about that. I hated to let the guys see me cry but I was certain that he wouldn't tell anyone even if they asked him.

After a while my tears dried and I began to pull away. Bobby hugged me tight and then held me at arm's length. I could see a large wet spot on his shirt.

"Are you okay honey?"

If I just hadn't emptied my eyes I would have bawled them dry now. I loved all the guys so much, and that they did care about me made my heart warm and fuzzy.

"I'm fine." I smiled at him. I could see that he didn't believe me and that this was nothing to be silly about. I sighed at sat down on the bed, carefully avoiding my ankle. It was unbelievably painful and I couldn't figure out how I could run so fast and such a long way with it. "My ankle's just a bit sore."

He gave me a look I knew meant "Right and I saw a pink pig fly today morning." I rolled my eyes at him. "Okay, it's really painful. Happy now?"

He smiled at my comment and kneeled on the floor picking my foot up and carefully examining it.

"I'm never happy when you're hurt Bomber, you know that. This looks really painful. I think we need to get an X-ray and see if it's broken which I believe. You need to come to second floor with me to get that fixed. Anything else bothering you?"

I showed him my cuts and bruises and he covered them up. This was an old habit, me raising my hands and him wrapping them up. We had done this so many times that I had lost count. I continued to raise my limbs lost in thought when he took a sharp breath. I looked down at him looking at my inner thighs. I bit my lip waiting for him to say something feeling very naked and very exposed.

"Who did these?" He asked and pointed at the hand shaped bruises on my thighs. I looked away from his eyes; they were so full of love and concern that it was harder to breath. I felt my eyes start to water as I could hear the screams racing through my mind.

"Open up bitch! I'm gonna make you mine and ruin you for all other men. You're going to remember me every time you close your eyes bitch!" the shrill man's voice screamed at me and I could feel the hands on my thighs prying them apart. The coldness hit hard on my bare legs.

"Bomber?" Bobby's voice woke me up from my memories. I blinked at the light and looked straight into green eyes. His hands were on my cheeks and I could feel myself shaking. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to…"

"Don't be Bobby. It happens all the time." I answered him, shaking my head and pushed the memories down deep, and set my brain on denial-mode. "And to answer your question, I don't know who they were."

Bobby's jaw was clenched tightly and his hands didn't leave my cheeks, forcing me to see him in the eye. He saw the truth in them and slowly let his hands drop. I knew he wanted to do something about the anger pent up in him and I understood him perfectly, I felt like punching the crap out of every punching bag there is. I wanted to shoot every bullet there was, I wanted to kill the guys who did this. I put a hand on his hand.

"Go ahead, I understand." I smiled at him and pointed for the living room. I saw the struggle in him as he tried to figure out what to do. I stood up and gave him a slight shove towards the door. He looked at me to see if I was okay and I nodded with a smile. He gave me a quick smile and exited through the door and I could hear the fist collide with a wall. No doubt that there was going to be a group of men at the door in the next minutes all wondering what caused the calm and quiet Bobby to lose his temper. I had seen the solider in him and that sometimes he needed to vent his feelings. He chose the easiest way, by punching or kicking something. I had seen him down at the gyms every time something bad happened hitting and kicking the shit out of the bags. I understood that he got rid of the negative feelings that way; I did the same with quality loving by Ranger. I was only slightly jealous that he could vent when I couldn't.

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