A/N: All character thoughts are in italic. JE owns the characters, but the plot and any mistakes are mine alone. Thanks again to Susan for proofing this. And thanks to everyone that continues to read.

Chapter 17

Sweat ran in rivulets down Ranger's face, blurring his vision and stinging his eyes, but he didn't give a damn about his own discomforts. He continued to push himself physically beyond the limits of what his body was ready for because that was the only way he could block out all of the emotional turmoil boiling up inside him. He silently gave thanks that Bobby wasn't in the gym at the moment to ground his ass for doing this.

Thump. Thump thump. Thump. Thump thump.

He tried to lose himself in the rhythmic pounding of his flesh meeting the punching bag. The pain that jarred his healing shoulder and thigh with every forceful jab numbed his racing mind and reminded him of other activities where his body repeatedly slammed into another object that provided the same numbing feeling.

He let his mind drift to what seemed like a lifetime ago for him. The nameless faceless bodies, sometimes more than one at a time, tangled together, sweating and straining against each other. The release was the common goal, but his release wasn't sexually motivated. It was to escape the demons that constantly threatened to pull him back to the black abyss where he belonged. He smirked to himself, thinking that he still made sure everyone involved was completely satisfied. But, no hanging around for the emotional shit. Hell, he mastered the silent stealthy extrications so there would be no long term entanglements, keeping it simple just like he preferred. That made him pause and blink.

Fuck. Like I used to prefer.

He paused for a just a bit too long mulling that over. The punching bag's momentum caught Ranger with full force in his chest and face, knocking him off his feet flat on his back. Dazed, he stared at the gym's ceiling as he lay there panting, trying to catch his breath.

Poetic justice, Manoso. Got knocked on your ass punching the bag you're using to replace dealing with Stephanie.

Ranger lay spread-eagle on the floor and closed his eyes. If he was honest with himself, he would admit to being confused as hell. He would admit to being frustrated and unsure of himself. He would even admit to not being in control of the situation. That forced him to take a big dry swallow to push down the blossoming sense of unease that stemmed from acknowledging his vulnerability.

Time to fall back, soldier.

It was time to go back behind his internal walls. His heart may still be beating in his chest, but it had stopped working a long time ago. It saved him so many headaches, and if he was honest with himself some heartaches too. Yet, Stephanie managed to breach every barrier and wall he had in place and did the impossible.

She made him feel.

If he were anyone else, he would have run like he had the hounds of Hell on his heels. And he did try, too. At first he fought his attraction to her tooth and nail. He pushed her away every time she got too close. He drew that line in the sand at the beginning with her, when he realized how easy it would be to let her into his heart. He could still hear himself feed her that line of bullshit about condoms and rings. He encouraged her to go back to that Italian prick every chance he got. Not being a glutton for punishment, she caught his hints and actually listened in that regard.

He should be happy.

He should be fucking ecstatic she wanted Morelli instead of him.

Truth was, he felt like a bomb got dropped on him. Ranger's stomach clinched remembering that strange dream he had while in the hospital. Pain lanced through him as he remembered how real Stephanie's anger and hurt was when she heard Morelli break up with her and then walk out of the room. Those dreams might mean he was crazy, but no one could accuse him of being stupid either. He knew without a doubt that was his subconsciousness telling him she would go back to Morelli again, in spite of anything he did to her. If she did, then without a doubt she wouldn't stick around putting up with the bullshit Ranger kept flinging at her. Experience was the best teacher of all and spoke to him loudly. Everyone else never bothered to stick around, so why would Steph be the exception? Yep, best to call a retreat and regroup.

But he didn't know if he could go on without her in his life.

He would admit that he was more than a little attached to Stephanie Plum and didn't know what to do about it.

Double fuck.

He let himself think back to all of the times in his past where allowing himself to care did nothing more than cut him to the emotional quick. His stomach soured thinking about being picked on as a child. The women he made the mistake of getting too close to – Anita, Rachel, his sisters, his mother - ran through his mind while he methodically cataloged each insult and hurt that he kept locked up in a compartment deep inside himself. His father's emotional distance and ultimate abandonment caused a lump to form in his throat.

He thought of his missions and the training to survive. He learned early on that to show emotional vulnerability made you weak. In his world, weak equaled dead. Yet, here he was, lying on the floor of his gym trying to figure out how he got himself into this situation.

Stephanie drifted over his mind again. He envisioned her face and flushed cheeks. Her eyes were like beacons to him, pulling him to her like steel to a magnet. Warmth spread through him as he remembered how whatever she was thinking or feeling reflected through those sparkling blue pools. Her smile that chased away the demons from his lonely soul. He mentally travelled down her body, remembering the feel and lushness of her curves.

A strange pleasurable tingling sensation began to pulsate along his scars left from the lightning strike on his arm and chest, ebbing and flowing from the comma-shaped point over his heart. He reached over and lightly stroked his fingers over the scar's pathway, surprised when it caused the pleasure to increase and spread warmth throughout him.

Crazy. I'm going crazy. I swear it feels like she's stroking my arm and chest. I can almost smell her shampoo.

"Ahem…. Cough, Cough. Dude. You do realize you're spread out on the floor feeling yourself up in full view of all the video feeds, right?"

Cursing himself for his lack of awareness, Ranger jumped up like he had been burned and turned a glowering stare at his cousin who was lounging against the inside of the gym door. He slowly started toward the exit.

"Not now, Santos. I'm not in the mood."

Lester snorted and pointedly looked down at Ranger's tented shorts. "That's not the impression I'm getting from here, Cuz."

Not bothering to acknowledge the truth behind that little dig, Ranger limped past Lester, pushing him out of the way in the process, making his way determinedly to the elevator. He leaned his head against the steel door of the elevator while waiting for it to open as he tried not to let Lester's bark of laugher piss him off further. He breathed in the faint lemony smell from the cleaner Ella used to keep the doors mirror-like and tried to force himself to relax.

He felt a gentle fluttering around his head. Entering the open stainless steel doors and punching the button for seven rather harshly, he mentally shook it off as another crazy thing his mind imagined. Ranger rolled his head from side to side trying to stretch his taut muscles. Dropping his head to his chest, he allowed himself the luxury of letting out a heavy sigh.

The fluttering was back, but it was in his head. He jerked his head up and pressed his open palms to both temples as if to make it stop. The foreign sensation continued, ruffling around his mind, and then traveled south to settle over his chest.

His whole body became flooded with such an overwhelming onslaught of need and want. Waves of love and desire almost made him feel like he was drowning in them. If he were a lesser man, it would have brought him to his knees. The fluttering danced back up into his head, and now he felt an emotional blast of…. anger? Yes, that was most definitely anger, even though it was laced still with those earlier emotions. He closed his eyes trying to block it all out, only to be jarred by a familiar voice racing around in his head.

…Ranger!

…...Ricardo Carlos Manoso!

…...Hey! Are you listening to me!?

He had officially lost his shit. He fisted his hair in his hands and shook his head to clear it. He could feel his heart rate jump up as his anxiety ratcheted out of the roof. They would lock him up over this, he was positive. The straight jacket, the padded room, the whole nine yards – he would get the deluxe package.

Exasperated with himself, he couldn't understand why this was happening now. If he were going to lose his mind, it should have happened years ago when the government owned him. The voices should have been of his ghosts from the nameless men and women whose dead eyes stared blindly up at him after he successfully completed his missions. He shouldn't be hearing Stephanie haunt him.

…Get your Cuban head out of your ass, Ranger. I am not a freaking ghost. You need to go to four right now and come to my apartment.

His finger hovered uncertainly for a moment over the floor buttons as they took turns lighting up – 1st floor, now second floor. Not fully believing he was actually doing this, he jabbed 4 just as the 3rd floor lit up. The elevator doors smoothly slid open, but he hesitated to get off on the fourth floor. He wasn't exactly sure what he was waiting for. Shrugging off his unease, he exited and tried to quietly make his way towards the apartment where Stephanie was staying.

He stood outside of her door, vacillating over what to do. Convincing himself he would just be showing her his weakness by admitting something was wrong with him, he turned around to go back to the elevator. He felt the fluttering again, but it wrapped itself around him as if to keep him where he was.

…...You need to come inside. The door's open. If you want the answer to what's happening to you, it's in here.

Ranger figured it could go one of two ways. Either he would enter Steph's apartment, scare the Hell out of her and get tossed out, or he would go in and get the shock of his life.

Facing her door again, he squared his shoulders and tried to calm his mind to center himself. He twisted the handle to her door, and it clicked right open to his astonishment. He swung the door slowly open, and took a couple of slow steps quietly inside so that he stood in front of her sofa. Turning toward her bedroom, he couldn't mask the shock from his face as he saw Stephanie wrapped in a towel, arms crossed over her chest looking like his personal pissed off avenging angel with a halo of unruly brown curls and glaring eyes leveled on him.

Ranger slowly sat down so that Stephanie wouldn't realize how close he was to having his legs go out from under him due to shock that she really was waiting on him. It just wasn't plausible that he actually could hear her without her talking.

He finally understood one of Steph's basic personality traits – when it got too tough to deal with then deny, deny, deny. That, he decided, was exactly what he would do right now. Trying to look casual in order to mask how close he was to losing it, he leaned back and stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. Schooling his face into a mask of indifference, he quirked a questioning eyebrow up at her.

Steph narrowed her eyes at him and stood in place.

You and I are going to have a discussion to beat all discussions, Mister.

Ranger's eyes widened. The mask of indifference cracked and fell away. He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his knees.

"Babe? What the Hell is going on here?"

-tbc-

A/N: I want to thank each and every person that has left such nice reviews for Sparking of Insight. I do try to respond back as I can, and you all don't know how much you have continued to motivate me. For the guests that read and comment, I have no way to respond back, so from the bottom of my heart…thank you so much!