While it was highly unlikely that the notification would wake Stephanie, Ranger knew better than to text her at 0500. She was still by no means a morning person, although apparently these days she was usually awake by 0700. Adjusting for the difference in time zones meant that the soonest he could send his totally superfluous good morning text was 0800 his time. The fact that he found himself chafing at the delay each morning astounded him.

After silencing his alarm, he slid his leg out from under the cat who made a disgruntled noise then settled back to sleep. Ranger headed to the bathroom then tossed on a tank top, shorts and sneakers. Grabbing his favorite water bottle, he filled it from the kitchen tap and left for the gym, two floors down.

A quick scan as he entered showed Royce jogging on the treadmill and Wraith, one of the few women to graduate from Ranger school, doing commando chin-ups on the bar by the locker rooms. Ranger picked up one of the small white towels from the table by the door and went straight for the weight room. The free weights gave his upper body a workout including his core. Today he worked with the barbells and a kettlebell. His muscles ached and he'd worked up quite a sweat by the time he was through.

Returning the kettlebell to its designated spot, he surveyed the activity in the gym. Royce had left while Ranger had been busy but Wraith had moved over to the elliptical and a handful of others had come in. Most of them were the newer, younger, Rangemen but Cal was out there, jabbing at the heavy bag. Cal, like Ranger, represented the Old Guard. Their numbers dwindled every year.

So much of Ranger's persona had been built around his physical abilities. Hell, his life and the lives of others had depended on it. For years, he'd been the best of the best, the pinnacle of the elite warriors. He had been secure in the knowledge that he could go up against damn near anyone and win. Even among professionals, he'd win. He could walk into any office of Rangeman and win a sparring match against any one of his employees on any given day. The only exceptions were Tank and Lester, and those bouts often came out to a tie with no clear winner. Now, there were a handful of Rangemen that he'd be lucky to spar to a draw, especially while his knee made him vulnerable.

Losing that physical edge felt like losing himself. It wasn't just a change in his life, it was a change in who he was at his center, his true self. He'd felt adrift and had been contemplating a return to therapy to come to grips with that change.

Then he'd run into Stephanie in Chicago. Stephanie, who didn't know about his physical decline but smiled at him and called him Batman. What would she think when she learned the truth?

His mood dimmed but before he could talk himself down any further, his watch beeped. He'd given himself exactly two minutes to rest before switching to the weight machines.

Determinedly pushing aside those negative musings, he went to the first machine he needed and set the weight. Supposedly, the doctor-recommended exercises would keep his legs strong without straining the knees. Soon he was done with those as well. He ran the towel over the machine, cleaning up his sweat.

Every other day, he'd add in time on the stationary bike. This was not that day, so he was done for this session.

Wiping the sweat off his face, he headed for the exit. When he passed the bike, he gave it a half-hearted glare, hating what it represented. No more running for him, at least not until his knee was sorted out.

Dios he wouldn't mind getting older if it didn't mean getting weaker. Or maybe it wasn't that the body was weaker, but that all the damage he'd done to it throughout his career had finally caught up to him. That made him think of the story The Picture of Dorian Grey only instead of an English aristocrat, the painting was of Ranger in his prime, kitted out for combat in full-on Warrior Mode.

Special Operations Forces were notorious for injuries to the ankle, knee, and lumbar spine. Supposedly most of that was caused by all the static jumps they did. Everybody thought of parachuting as drifting gently through the air. But the tug on the static line as they jumped out of the plane, then hitting the ground when landing at the end, were high impact even on a good day. It was like his body remembered every blow, collected them all, and then boom. Dropped them all at once so that the joint or body part that had been just fine for years was suddenly complaining and refusing to work.

Some of the other guys he'd been in service with were having similar problems. In some ways, Ranger was lucky that only one of his knees was affected, and he only needed the minimally invasive arthroscopic surgery, not a total joint replacement. The surgeon would clean out the bone spurs and loose bone chips and replace the torn meniscus with a nice new artificial one. He'd put it off as long as he could, but he'd have to schedule it soon. Down time should be minimal.

Of course Stephanie popped into his mind again as she had every time he thought about his aging body. Would she still want him physically? She had said that she wanted to recapture what they'd had and God knows he still wanted her just as much. She was every bit as beautiful and captivating as she had been back then. She'd always had that certain special something, undefinable and alluring, that drew him to her. Her voice, her eyes, her very presence made every nerve in his body sing with desire. None of that had changed.

But him… Waning combat prowess aside, Ranger's hair was as thick as ever, but there was grey at his temples, and lines on his face. His skin wasn't tightly drawn over his muscles anymore. No matter how much he exercised, or how carefully he ate, there was always the tiniest layer of adipose under the skin. And the skin itself looked different, felt different. He wasn't a young man anymore, and it showed on the outside where he resembled his father more every year. Inside, he felt like the same person he was fifteen years ago.

When Stephanie looked at him, did she see the older man on the surface? Or could she see past that to the real Carlos Mañoso?

Ranger tossed the towel into the hamper by the door and went back to the apartment. The cat was still in the same spot when he passed by the bed and walked into the bathroom. By the time he stepped out of the shower, the cat was sitting upright on the sink counter.

"There's my bathroom buddy," Ranger said as he dried off. "Good morning, Mr. Pants."

He hung the towel back up then rubbed the cat under the chin and on the side of his neck. The cat followed as Ranger went to the walk-in closet. Today was about clients, current and prospective, so Corporate Ranger was making an appearance.

Once he was fully dressed right down to his customary two guns and a knife, he went to his office trailed by the cat and grabbed his tablet. Then he went to the kitchen. The cat, knowing what was coming next in the morning routine, started meowing and tried to rub his head on Ranger's legs as they moved.

"Now, Mr. Pants, I can't feed you if you trip me and break my neck." Ranger scolded, but there was no heat to it. This was a drama that played out twice a day, every day. The cat got more excited at the sound of the can opening, reaching up to the counter as the wet food plopped into a bowl. Ranger set the bowl on the floor, rinsed the can before tossing it into the recycling then went to his office downstairs.

He'd already conducted the weekly full staff meeting but the Core team had an informal meeting most days. They'd convene around 0700 or a little thereafter. Location was flexible. Often they ended up in the office of whichever of them had arrived first. Usually that first person was Ranger, since he was the only one living on-site. The others had spouses, families, and homes of their own.

Sure, Ranger had Abuela Rosa's house up in Surfside Beach but with no one to share it, it felt silly to waste time commuting. He saved the house for weekends and downtime. He wondered if Stephanie would like the house. It had started as one of dozens in a post-WWII middle class neighborhood. It was small and barely had any yard, but it had been brand new in 1948 when his grandparents bought it. It was also four blocks from the ocean that Stephanie had loved in New Jersey. Mr. Pants even had a screened porch to play in.

Thinking about the cat made Ranger worry about how Stephanie would feel about having a cat as a pet. Then he told himself to quit skipping ahead, and put it out of his mind.

The Core meeting was half business, half idle talk. Lester shared stories of his kids. Tank talked about the kittens he and Livy were fostering. Bobby talked about some TV show that he and Sandra were watching. The others joined in for that subject. Apparently everyone in America was watching the show except Ranger.

But nobody asked him about Stephanie. Maybe they expected him to bring her up himself? Like they brought up their personal stuff? Shit. He was getting the hang of this chatting thing with her, but he wasn't sure how to do it with the guys. Normally for a social situation, he'd go to Lester for advice but this time he couldn't as, from what he could tell, Lester was still clenched up about her.

Talk petered out, and Tank announced that he needed to hit the break room before the good breakfast sandwiches were gone. Meeting adjourned. Bobby and Lester stood to wander to their offices. They hadn't even cleared his doorway before Ranger pulled out his phone and went straight to his texts.

Over the past few days, he and Stephanie had fallen into a pattern of exchanging morning greetings including a comment about what, in general, was on their schedule. They'd touch base again late afternoon with an update or maybe a non sequitur. They'd had dinner "together" twice more – Ranger had had to miss a couple of nights – and would do so again this evening.

All morning, from the time he'd woken, Ranger had been sneaking peeks at his watch despite knowing it was way too soon to send that first text. Until now, at 0758. He began typing and felt his whole body relax now that it was okay to say hello.

0 0 0

Twelve hours later, Ranger and Stephanie were halfway through dinner.

She was sitting at the table in her kitchen nook, eating microwaved lasagna for one and garlic bread that she'd put together with a leftover dinner roll and the toaster oven. He was sitting at the head of his dining table, enjoying freshly baked salmon with lemon and dill and roasted asparagus, courtesy of Lupe. The cat was in the chair to his left, staring intently at his face, as if this would be the day that Ranger broke down and let the cat have a tidbit from his plate. Spoiler alert – it wasn't. Mr. Pants also knew better than to set paw on the table as that meant instant banishment to the office.

They'd already talked about Ranger's day – two new clients – and Stephanie's day – found the evidence needed to win a current case – and had moved on to satisfying her curiosity about Rangeman's newest employees, starting with the first one she'd met.

"Point of fact," said Ranger, "he's had that nickname since childhood. It's a portmanteau of his real name, Will Blodgett."

Stephanie paused, a forkful of lasagna in front of her mouth. "A porta-whata?"

"Portmanteau," he repeated. "It's a term coined by Lewis Carroll for when you put two words together to make another word."

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "That name sounds familiar. Was he a regular skip?"

Ranger started to smile but didn't want her to think that he was laughing at her. "No, he wrote Alice in Wonderland."

"Duh. Right." She rolled her eyes, head nodding. "I know that. I guess since I wasn't expecting to hear it I didn't connect it." She finished the lasagna and pushed away the plastic container. The garlic bread had long since been devoured. "So, Widget's not military?"

"No. Former cop. A fellow officer was accused of excessive use of force. Widget was a witness and supported the complainant's version of events. The officer got a one-week paid suspension. Widget got fired. Law enforcement's loss is private security's gain."

Ranger put his utensils on his now-empty plate and took a drink of water. The cat shifted his stare to the plate, the tip of his tail thumping against the seat of the chair.

The handle of Stephanie's fork was resting on the edge of the lasagna container. She started fiddling with it with one hand, her arm laid out on the table. She pulled her other arm across her chest like half of a self-hug. She cleared her throat, and her eyes broke contact with his, looking downward instead. He didn't think she was looking at anything in particular, but the phone cameras limited the view.

She took a breath and started talking at a fast pace. "So. Martin Luther King day is this coming weekend. Federal holiday. Courts are closed and we have off at work. I know you don't have off because security never sleeps right? Do you give the guys Federal Holidays off or is that not a thing? I mean other than Christmas day. Or New Year's day. Not that you were off then because you were at that party. Not that you were goofing off, although you've got a right to time off but, I mean, it was a party but you were there as The Boss Man but the office was staffed and monitoring stuff or whatever."

Stephanie wasn't quite babbling, but her words were running together and had a rising lilt at the end, as if every word was a question. Either she'd had more alcohol than the one beer he'd seen her drink with her meal, or there was something she wanted to talk about but didn't know how to broach the subject and was trying to tip-toe into it. He'd bet on the latter.

"Anyway," she continued, "I know that this is last minute, and it means we're moving awfully fast because you basically only just went home so it's probably too much too soon, and I don't want you thinking this is about sex because it feels too soon for that, but I was thinking that maybe I could come down there for a couple of days but I don't want to impose or presume and feel free to say no –"

Something clicked and Ranger knew what she was asking.

"I can book you a flight," he interrupted. "Do you have to wait for the weekend? Because I can check availability for tomorrow."

She interrupted his interruption. "Before you say yes let me tell you why I need to come because this is kinda complicated and I'm hoping to accomplish several things. Maybe."

Sighing, she shifted in her seat and clasped her hands on the table in front of her. Her gaze met his. This time she spoke at a normal speed, hesitating in spots as if carefully considering word choice.

"First and foremost, I want to see you. I really enjoy our texting and our video dinners but it's not the same as being there in person. I was also thinking that one of the reasons we were able to reconnect as quickly as we have is because we were able to have our initial discussions face to face."

Stephanie's right hand started fidgeting with her left, rubbing the base of her ring finger. It was bare now, but Ranger could tell she'd worn her rings long enough that she'd gotten into the habit of fussing with them when nervous.

"I think I might have to do that with Lester. I worry that what's between us is too big and too complicated to clear up just by text or email or even a call. That would probably be okay with the other guys, though, and I do want to see them in person too, but making things right with Lester is priority. Maybe it'll take several visits like it did with us or maybe, and this is what I'm hoping." Stephanie leaned forward, resting her weight on her elbows. She was so close to the camera that her face took up the entire screen on his phone. "If I can apologize to him from two feet away, he'll hear and see the sincerity. He'll know that I really am sorry and maybe we can be okay again."

With that, she sat back in her chair, her expression a blend of vulnerability and hope. Ranger agreed with her assessment.

"I would love for you to visit and will gladly help you with your other objectives. Rangeman Miaimi is laid out very much like the Trenton office. If you want, you could stay in my apartment so you'd be right there to talk to the guys. I'll respect your request to keep it platonic."

"Thank you, Ranger." Stephanie nibbled her bottom lip and looked worried. "Here's the part where I remind you of how very bad I am at confronting an issue. I really would like to see Bobby, Tank, and Manny in person. And I especially need to clear the air with Lester. But…" She licked her lips and fiddled with her ring finger again. Taking a deep breath, she went on. "I'm not really eager to stay at Rangeman. In my mind I can picture everyone, the whole building including people I haven't met, staring at me. Judging me. That would just freak me out. I'm also afraid I'll chicken out on meeting them, especially meeting Lester, because I know that one will be the most painful."

She sighed. "On the one hand, I don't want to surprise the guys but on the other hand, I don't know if I can take the pressure of committing in advance to seeing them. Lester's the most important. Can you just give him a vague line about possibly needing him for a special project sometime in the next few days after I arrive? Then, if I don't lose my nerve, you can tell him I'm there and give him the chance to speak to me in person. It'll be his choice if he wants to, but it's totally okay if he doesn't."

Though he wished she could be more direct with the guys, Ranger recognized that her request represented significant personal growth. The Steph from years ago would have ignored the situation altogether, and either chosen to act as if nothing had happened or would never have spoken to those people again. He appreciated that she wanted to make as much of an effort with the guys as she had with him, and would do what he could to assist.

"Instead of Rangeman, we could stay at my house near the beach. We can keep your visit confidential unless or until you're ready."

Stephanie hesitated, and based on her prior comment, he thought she was trying to calculate how the change of location would affect the odds of them winding up in bed despite their best efforts not to. Like him, she seemed concerned about jumping in too fast. Dios knew he wanted her, and could tell that she wanted him, too. They had always been so good at the physical side, but that had been part of what had tripped them up last time.

She spoke and he knew that he'd guessed correctly.

"Um, how many bedrooms are there?"

Over the years, Ranger had realized that it was fine to express their love physically but for a relationship to last, they needed the words. Not just those three important ones, but all of the others that went along with creating and maintaining their bond. Love didn't mean that differences of opinion suddenly vanished. It didn't mean they'd agree on every subject, nor was it an excuse for one partner to impose their will on the other. Love meant that they would be willing to work through issues, discuss their differences, come to mutual agreements, none of which they'd done the first time around.

This time, they were going to do it right. This time they would set the foundation first and learn how to speak to each other, and how to work together.

"Three bedrooms, so we can each have our own," he replied and decided to speak frankly. "As much as I want you, I also want to get this right. I don't want to move too quickly, because this is about more than joining physically. You talked about a second chance and I want that.

"But if it's going to work," he cautioned, "if it's going to be forever, then we have to avoid making the same mistakes as before. And the biggest one of those was our lack of communication. I think we need to establish clear and consistent lines of dialogue, whether it's about something as simple as the weather or as complex as a security threat. We have to be able to speak openly and freely. Once we've got some practice in on that, we can practice the other stuff."

Trying to keep the discussion light, he winked at her. In return, she smiled and blushed. He could see her considering his offer as she chewed her thumbnail.

Stephanie thought for a moment longer then said, "This is so fast. What will everyone think?"

"This is us," Ranger said with a smile. "We've always made our own rules. Besides, it's not like we've just met. We're getting reacquainted."

She nodded decisively. "Okay. Let's do it. But I'll buy my own ticket. I'll fly down Friday and leave on Tuesday morning. That gives us four nights and three full days together."

"Last minute airline tickets cost –"

"I know. I can afford it. Saving money was one of the many skills I picked up after I left." Stephanie gave him a saucy grin. "So what if I'm terrified of flying? It's for a good cause, dammit."