**This is a big chapter with a lot going on in it. Sorry it took so long for the update. I needed to step away a few times to really decide how I wanted to handle things. I think I'm alright with it, so I'm just going to go with it. (Even though I didn't think it was as emotional as I wanted it to be, but this was how it wrote.) Again, thank you for the reviews of the last chapter. I appreciate you letting me know how I'm doing.**

October 9…11 am

Boy, I don't even know where to start. Yesterday was a rollercoaster. I feel like I've experienced every emotion in the book in the past twenty-four hours. In a way, I think I'm still trying to wrap my brain around everything that's happened.

It started well enough, or so I thought. We were all snuggled in bed and I was happy as a clam to be there with him. Then I went to shower and he went outside. He seemed off when he came back in, but I tried to ignore it. I made some omelets for breakfast and we took a walk, but he was really quiet and withdrawn, even for Ranger. And it only got worse after lunch.

He was acting kind of edgy and nervous. It wasn't typical for him at all. I started thinking that it had something to do with how close we came to having sex the night before. I thought that he was having second thoughts about being with me or couldn't overcome my abuse or something. Heck, I thought maybe he wanted a way out or was regretting bringing me here on vacation. All my self-doubt was back full force.

I hated that feeling. I've been working so hard to like myself that it felt like a step backward. I was back to thinking that I wasn't good enough for him. I felt my heart begin to race and my vision began to blur. I recognized it as the first signs of an anxiety attack and started to panic a little.

I suddenly had Dr. Westin in my head, telling me I could control it. I just had step away from the situation and regroup. So I went outside and walked down to the water. I stood on the dock and closed my eyes. I wondered if I'd ever feel like I was good enough to be with him, without my self-doubt standing in the way. No matter how hard I work on myself will I always slip back to this self-loathing so easily? I sure hope not. I can't stand feeling like that.

I decided not to let it consume me though. I didn't want to go back to the dark again. So I started the exercise that I've been working on with Dr. Westin. It's a simple exercise. I just relax, and think about my safe place. What does it feel like? How does it smell? What do I see? What do I hear? God, it was our bed back in Trenton. The soft, silky sheets, the smell of Bulgari, Ranger's face looking back at me, the only sound was our combined breathing. That's my safe spot, but it wasn't calming me. I was worried I'd lost that, along with him.

I wasn't calming at all. I knew I couldn't let the panic win. I couldn't have another break down, not here, not now. So I tried the only thing I could think of. I started doing the deep breathing I've been learning in yoga. Focusing on my breathing, allowing my body to relax a muscle at a time really helped. After five minutes I was able to regain control. And I'm not going to lie, controlling that anxiety attack helped me feel much stronger too. I hadn't been able to do that on my own before. It made me think I could probably do a lot of things on my own.

I sat down on the edge of the dock and pulled my knees up into my chest, then wrapped my arms around them. I laid my head on top of my knees and closed my eyes again. I thought of all the things I had accomplished in therapy. I thought of all the things I've accomplished in my career. All the criminals I've brought in, the cases I've solved, the people I've cleared, saved, and became friends with. I thought of all the things I've accomplished personally, starting over after my divorce, getting myself out of debt, starting over after losing my salaried career, and taking care of myself when I had no one else to lean on.

Those were the things I'd never given myself proper credit for before. It had all been difficult and stressful, without a doubt, but I did it and I knew I could do it again. I could start over, building my life properly. I could get over the pain that was inflicted upon me. I wasn't worthless or disappointing to myself at all, and that's what mattered. I was worth something and I wasn't going to let anyone treat me any different. Especially Ranger.

If he couldn't see what we had was good and work with me to fight for it, then I'd deal with it just like I'd dealt with all the other obstacles that have been thrown my way. I couldn't allow him to crush the progress I've made. I wouldn't allow him to control me like I had let Mom and Morelli do to me for so long. Eliminate negative factors from my life, that's what Dr. Westin said I should do. I hoped that Ranger didn't fall into that category, but if he did I knew I'd have to walk away. I couldn't let him break me down again.

I walked back up to the house and found him on the deck watching me. I stood out of reach and stared at him, trying to decide how to deal with the situation. I lifted my chin, deciding not to back down from whatever was going on between us. If he wanted to be with me he couldn't shut me out anymore. His behavior wasn't acceptable.

He stared back at me, not saying a word. I stood there for a long time, not wanting to start a discussion that I knew could have been the end of us, but I knew it had to be done. No more denial-land. I had to be an adult. So I finally asked him point blank, "Why are you being this way? Are you afraid to have sex with me? Are you grossed out by what happened? Do you want to break up with me?"

He stomped over to the railing and grabbed the top two by four with enough force to shake the entire deck. I stayed back, not really sure what he was working through, but I knew it was something big. I recognized the way he stood, the way he breathed, the look in his eyes. He was scared.

I suddenly felt awful that I doubted him. This wasn't about me at all, it was something else. I just wasn't sure what. I didn't hesitate to go to him. I pressed myself against his back, wrapped my arms around his waist, and held him there like that for a long while.

He finally relaxed, a little. He let go of the railing and slipped his hands over mine gently, like he was a completely different man than the one that nearly broke the railing a few minutes ago. "I told you that nothing will change the way I want you. I love you," he told me, but he still sounded so despondent.

"I love you too, Ranger," I told him. Then I pressed my lips to his back, between his shoulder blades. "Nothing will change the way I want to be with you either."

He suddenly turned and pulled me into his arms. His lips were on my mine so quickly and so forcefully that I would have stumbled had he not been holding me so tightly. Then he eased his hold and gently kissed my nose, my forehead, and my hair. He was in and out of moods so quickly, his behavior changing by the moment. It was almost frightening. I'd never seen that much emotion out of him all at once.

He trailed his fingers up my arms and neck until he was holding the sides of my face between his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes. "It's not you, Steph. I don't want you to ever doubt how incredible you are or how much you mean to me. I love you more than anything, and that's why I can't allow our relationship to go any further," he said sending my heart racing again. I didn't want to hear him end things. I felt the tears hot in my eyes. Then he continued, "I need you to be able to say you still want to be with me, after you know everything. You deserve the truth before things go too far." I tried to tell him that I could already say those things about him, but he shook his head no and kissed me again, softly this time. "I'm sorry about my behavior today. I've been trying to come to terms with opening myself up to you like you have to me. You really need you to know me before you can commit your life to me. And I want that more than anything," he told me.

My heart was beating so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I was terrified to hear what he'd been hiding. I was nervous that it would change everything. I was curious about what it could be. I wanted to reassure him that nothing would change my feelings, and I was pretty sure of that, but I couldn't. I knew he wouldn't believe it. I'd just have to hear him out and then convince him that I was still in love with him. "You can tell me anything," I told him, because I couldn't think of anything better to say.

"I know I can, Babe. That's why we're here. I trust you more than anyone in this world," he told me. I smiled at him and moved closer, hugging him so he'd know I felt the same way. "Come inside?"

I nodded and allowed him to lead me inside the house. He walked me to the couch, then disappeared upstairs only to return with his journal in his hands. "Start here," he told me. He held the book out to me. I wasn't sure what he meant by that so I took it, but just looked at him, waiting for further instructions. "Will you read it?" he asked me.

I lowered the book to my lap and took his hand. I asked him why he'd want me to read it, he just said it would explain him better than he could explain himself, verbally. He leaned down and kissed my forehead again. I wanted to pull him down and kiss him until that hopeless look left his face, then tell him nothing in the past mattered anymore, but I couldn't.

The pain in his eyes told me that this was something he had to do, so I didn't stop him when he stood. He just looked down at me, told me to read the book, then to come find him. He said he would answer all my questions when I was done. I grabbed his hand when he tried to walk away though. I was really afraid to face this alone. "Why now?"

He squeezed my hand in return and forced a smile at me. "Because I love you and I need to do this, for us. I need to be in this all the way, no secrets standing between us," he told me. "Read it, please."

I wanted to roll my eyes at him, he knew I couldn't refuse him when he said please. So I agreed to read his journal, even though it seemed like a complete invasion of privacy.

I watched him head back outside before staring at the notebook. I really didn't want to do it. I wasn't sure what he wrote in his, but I'd put every thought and feeling into mine over the last month. God, could I read what he thought of me, of us, and not be hurt?

I opened the book and stared at the date on the first page. He started it just after I moved in with him. I didn't know that he knew Dr. Westin, Ben, for seven years. No wonder he would speak to him, they were probably friends. Ugh. Plus, I didn't know that he started seeing him again, to get help so that he could help me. I couldn't believe that he'd been that committed to helping me, right from the start. God, he really did love me all this time.

It was like a wakeup call, reading how he described me right from the start. I'd felt so awkward and messed up at the time, but he saw me completely differently. He thought I was strong and smart. I was floored by that as much as I was shocked by his admission that he'd been angry with me for endangering myself. God, how I wish I could go back and change all that. I'd let him train me and take things seriously, but I knew I couldn't go back. I could only go forward and being safe was something I planned to keep my promise about. I'd never make him hurt about that again.

It was also startling to read about how he saw himself as incomplete and damaged, like a shell of a man. I wanted to argue with him about that, but I knew it would do no good. No one could make him see himself any differently. I knew that for a fact now. I sure wish I could see the things others point out to me. Maybe Dr. Westin was right, we weren't that different after all.

As I read on, things really began to fall into place. I understood his odd behavior a little better. I understood the thoughts behind his actions. I understood what was happening when he was in his zone, all the thoughts that were running through his head were written here.

I finally understood why he pushed me away for all those years. He thought he wasn't good enough for me. He thought I couldn't love him if I knew what he'd done during his military career. He thought he didn't deserve to be happy or to have love or to even live a real life, because of the things that he'd been a part of.

God. How I just wanted to toss the book aside and stop reading what he wrote, but I knew I had to push through, for him. I had to be strong. I had to face it so I could help him live with it, even if I wasn't sure how. The secrets he revealed were worse than I ever thought they could be.

He'd been in Afghanistan, during the early part of the war. He mentioned that he was a tracker. That made sense to me, it's what he did so well as a bounty hunter. He tracked the bad guys and brought them in. Only in his Army days, it looked like they didn't capture as often as they killed the people they were tracking.

I knew Ranger was a good man. If he wasn't, the deaths for those people wouldn't have weighed on his mind or his soul the way they have. He wouldn't have thought twice about his part in their deaths, but he did. He saw himself as a murderer.

Even with all the training they gave him and the way he pretended nothing could touch him, I imagined he had problems dealing with the emotions that went with the job. I imagined that's why he'd gotten divorced and given away Julie. He didn't think he was good enough for them. He thought he was going to die out there. He watched so many of his friends die, it was the only conclusion he could come to. Combined with the guilt he felt over the deaths of civilians, he thought he was a monster. A monster not worthy of happiness or love. Unfortunately, that hasn't really changed any over the last twelve years.

He spoke of his drug and alcohol abuse, his depression, and the nightmares that haunted him about what he saw and did. I couldn't imagine the toll it took on him. He didn't have anyone to take care of him. There was no one to love him and tell him he was still the wonderful, honorable man that he'd always been. He was all alone with his self-hatred and those terrible memories. It must have consumed him.

By the time I finished reading that entry I couldn't blame him for trying to kill himself. The pain, the wanting out, the thinking he couldn't survive coming home and dealing with his illness was so real that it touched something inside me. God, I'd thought about doing it for much less. Luckily we were both able to fight our way back from that darkness though. And I was so lucky to have not lost him before I found him. The fact that he was able to come home, get help, and find a way to live after all that showed me what a strong man he is. He is so brave.

When I read about him witnessing the rape and brutal murders of innocent women and children, I felt sick. I knew he wasn't responsible for the actions of his team, but he thought he was. I knew Ranger would never do those things, even if he said he wasn't above it. He said he didn't join in on the rape because of the drugs he was on. I knew that was wrong. I knew he'd only follow his orders. If he had to kill them he'd do it, but he wouldn't hurt and humiliate them first. That wasn't him.

If it were him, he wouldn't be blaming himself for not stopping it. He wouldn't have nightmares about those victims. He wouldn't be convinced that God was punishing him for it. He wouldn't feel this weighing on his soul. He wouldn't be my Ranger if he didn't feel remorse for his non-action.

He also wouldn't have pushed me away. It was another way for him to try to protect me. He said he felt like he'd soil my soul by sharing his life with me. Those words got to me. They were painful.

I hated that he felt this way about himself. The tears were falling down my face so hard I could barely keep reading. He mentioned his friend, the one that was buried in Arlington. He said that he gave up his life for him. I knew Ranger, he must hate that. The guilt must gnaw at him. I knew he'd feel like he was the one that was supposed to die, because he didn't think he was worth saving. That certainly didn't slow my tears.

I made it through his September eleventh entry and stared in disbelief at the book. All those years he thought I wouldn't tell him that I loved him, because I wouldn't want to admit to loving a man like him. He really thought I couldn't love him if I knew this. I couldn't stand him thinking that.

I got up, grabbed a pen and flipped the book to the last written upon page. I added a note to it and closed the book. I laid my head back against the couch and cried. The pain that he had to live with now, and for the rest of his life, because he choose the life of a soldier was heartbreaking. He was a hero, one of the good, brave men in this world and he felt like he was a monster.

I wasn't sure how to help him see all the good in himself, but I'd figure it out. I had to. My Ranger was a man of honor and integrity, I was certain of that. I've watched him stick to a strict code of morals and ethics. He always did what he thought was right. Sure it wasn't always completely legal, but by doing what he thought was right he made the best decision he could. And that decision usually benefited everyone, not just him.

He tries to play himself off as some selfish mercenary to keep others away. He acts like he only hunted bad guys for the monetary gain, but I knew better. He was trying to do all he could to regain his self-respect, to repair his karma somehow. I believed the image he projected at first, but the more I saw him in action, the more I was convinced he was the best man I have ever met. I haven't changed my mind.

I picked that journal back up and I started to read it again. I made a promise to him. I would finish it. I was glad I did. It showed me a completely different side of Ranger. Plus, my tears turned to giggles as I read about him getting jealous of Tank and what the guys put him through when he was trying to find a way to ask me out.

He's so good at hiding himself behind the blank stare of Ranger or the confidence of Carlos, which I, personally, usually got a combination of, that I wouldn't have guessed the real man was so nervous around me, so scared to mess things up, so socially awkward.

He'd been trying to ask me out, repeatedly, for years, but couldn't do it. He kept making up jobs to get me to join him. Why didn't I see what was happening? Because I didn't think he'd ever really want to spend time with me. Boy, our combined issues really worked against us.

I read, with interest, about him forcing himself to relax around me. He was pretending to be normal for me, which was pretty cute. What wasn't cute was his admission to dropping fourteen grand on my clothes. Good Lord. He's lucky I could see it came from good intentions.

I think the next shock was his admission to masturbating, a lot, while thinking about me. That was kind of a complement, right? Though I'm not sure how I feel about the video he has of us. I want to see it. I want to see what he sees in me. I want to see if I can see what he describes, because the way he talks about my body and calls me beautiful stuns me. I never felt like I was more than average in looks. Reading this, combined with the way he looks at me and touches me, it makes me wonder if I'm just not seeing myself clearly. Could that be possible?

Then the tears were back, full force. I sobbed through the terror he described during my first break down. The desperation he felt because he wanted to make me better, but couldn't. The helplessness he felt as he held me, knowing he couldn't make the pain go away. The overwhelming fear that he'd lose me. I had no idea that my illness hurt him so badly. I guess it was one of the things I missed because I was so involved in my own pain.

I wished I could go back and reassure him, let him know that he was helping me, and just pay more attention to him. I didn't want him to hurt because of my illness, my assault, my personal drama. He deserved better than that.

I knew that pain wasn't gone, but thankfully, from what I read, he was letting go of the guilt and the anger that'd been eating at him after he found out about Scrog. He was coming to terms with himself and his past a little more. I could even see that through his actions. He naturally relaxed with me now, like he was finding out just who he was without the mask. He was definitely just himself with me now. Maybe I was helping him. I'd like to think I could help, just by loving him. Just like he did for me.

I read it all, except the pages he wrote while I was in the hospital. I wasn't sure if I was ready for that. I was afraid it would trigger more dreams or flashbacks. I sat there staring at the empty hearth, not wanting to acknowledge the unread words. I knew I couldn't keep reading, not right then. I needed to see him.

So I walked outside with the notebook in my hand. I found him sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs. He was staring out at the lake, looking so scared and lost. This time I could comfort him.

He looked up at me and frowned at the tears that were still leaking from my eyes. He held out his hand, so I took it and crawled into his lap. He held me until my tears stopped. "How far did you make it?" he asked me as he used his sleeve to wipe my eyes and nose.

"Through everything, except the days I was in the hospital," I told him. I could feel him tense again. "Ranger, I don't know what to say."

"What's there to say?" he sighed. "You know what I did now and why I hid it from you."

"No, I know a little of what you were ordered to do, what you saw your team do, and what you had to live with," I told him, because honestly that's how I read all that.

He asked me not to make excuses for his past, but I wasn't. It's how I saw things. "Ask me?" he said in a cool voice, like he was trying not to break down.

I looked back into his face and wondered what he wanted me to ask. What did I want to ask? "Did you ever touch any of the women, on your missions?" He shook his head no. "But you killed them?"

He closed his eyes and said, "Mostly it was bystander death from the explosives we used to take out targets. It's not like we went in, guns drawn, shooting randomly, at least not unless we were returning fire." He shivered a little before continuing, "Except with the caravan in the mountains. We were invited to dine with them, they were friendly. It was a nice break, a home cooked meal that we needed, but we should have refused. We shouldn't have joined them." His face drained of color and his eyes looked so hopeless and lost. "After dinner I was playing with a couple of the kids, telling them a story about living on the ocean in Miami, when one of our guys took one of the women behind the caravan. Her husband found them together. His dick was in her mouth. He fired on them. Hudson was shot in the leg and the woman was shot in the head, killed. He blamed Hudson for her death and the rest of the tribe turned on us. There was so much gun fire. I had to defend myself." I didn't know what to do so I just hugged him tighter. "We couldn't risk them reporting us. It would blow our cover, ruin the op, and put all the other troops in danger. So we killed them all, murdered them, then Orin set the entire camp on fire," he whispered to me. "We made a pact to never tell what happened that night."

I just kept hugging him. It was all I could do, that's when I felt his tears on my shoulder. I was crying too. I just hurt so badly for him. I wanted to make it all go away. "That's the night that haunts me, Steph," he whimpered. "I kept dreaming of those little kids being shot. I could hear those women's cries as we killed their families. I could smell the smoke, combined with their burning flesh. I'll never forget that smell. I can still smell it at random, without a trigger. It just takes over my mind and makes me sick. It makes me feel crazy," he told me.

"You're not crazy, Ranger. You're just trying to live with what happened. But you did what you had to do," I said trying to comfort him.

He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me away so he could look me in the eyes. "Did I? Did they have to die? Did we play God in making that decision without orders to do so?" he asked me.

"I don't know. You did what you thought was right at the time. You can't change that decision now. You just have to ask for forgiveness and forgive yourself," I told him. There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't take it back, he couldn't make it go away, and he could never forget. All he can do is forgive himself. And I really hope he can do it.

"Why are you still here? How can you still look at me?" he asked me.

I was crying in earnest by that point, looking into his beautiful tear streaked face, and I knew without a doubt I'd never leave him. I wouldn't let him push me away again. "Because I love you. I'm not going anywhere. I never will."

He didn't understand how I could trust him, how I didn't see him as a monster or a murderer, but I didn't. He was still my Ranger. I'll never fully know the horror of that night, just like I know he'll never get over it, but it didn't change my mind about him. I told him that I thought he was a good and honorable man and I meant it.

What other decision could they have made that night? He said himself that if they'd let them go, it would have been reported, it would have cost them the lives of the other troops that were moving on that location. Either way it was a no win situation. Either way he would have felt he had blood on his hands. Either way he would have felt the pain and the guilt. It wasn't my place to pass judgment for the decisions that were made that night. I couldn't place blame on him for any of that either.

"What about the rest of it? Did you read the rest of it?" he asked, still using that cool voice, which I finally realized was him trying to hold back his tears. I nodded yes, not sure what part he was asking about, but I'd read it all. "And you still want to be with me?" he asked me. I nodded my head yes again. He closed his eyes again as he dropped his head back against the chair. His fingers slipped away from my face and he just sat beneath me, completely still. "I never raped any of those women, Steph, but I didn't stop it. I didn't care about anything after that night with the caravan. I'd thrown my life away because of the guilt I was living with. I did awful things, because I'd given up. I was a walking dead man, at least on the inside," he told me.

I shifted so I could lay my head on his shoulder. "But you're not dead inside. If you were, you wouldn't have shared this with me. You wouldn't be trying to move on with me. That's what this is, right? You said you wanted me to know everything so we could be together?" I questioned, because I needed to hear him say it.

"I needed you to know everything, because I didn't want to lose you to it in the future," he agreed.

I turned my head and kissed his neck lightly. "You're never going to lose me," I whispered in his ear.

He turned his head toward me and kissed my lips lightly. "You're sure about this?" he whispered back.

"Unconditional, Ranger, forever. I promise," I told him as I slipped my arms around him and forced a hug upon him.

He suddenly hugged me back, tightly. "I love you too, Babe. I never thought I'd be able to feel again, but you made me feel. You brought me back to life. Thank you, Steph. Thank you," he growled into my ear.

I told him that he didn't have to thank me. He'd done the same for me. He just kissed me again in response. I think he was still shocked that I hadn't run out on him.

When the cool air started to make me shiver he carried me inside, up to our bed. We snuggled under the covers and we talked about the rest of his journal. There were finally no secrets between us, no other man standing in our way, no obstacles to overcome, there was nothing but a beautiful future looming over us.

This really was going to be our Someday.