Listening to Steph deploy the honey trap was always a joy, Ranger thought. She had a gift for coming up with detailed stories and characters on the fly, inhabiting the new persona so completely that the mark never doubted her. She was a great actress because, like now, she could toss herself into a role that was the very opposite of who she was. The enticement went beyond the promise of immediate sex. It was the story, and the intrigue, combined with her natural charm, that drew them in.

As she spun her tale, he could hear more than one person trying not to laugh, both through the earpiece and around him on the sidewalk. When she reached the climax, so to speak, of her monologue, Ranger heard Bobby squeak and Lester snort. Hawk's shoulders shook with silent laughter.

He listened to O'Day take the bait and Stephanie's response. She knew better than to come across as too eager, but she didn't play hard to get either. There was a delay as the bar tab was paid, though none of the trio spoke much.

Hector's voice, little more than a growl, came through the comms. "He has his hand on her ass."

It had been quite some time since Ranger had heard that particular tone in Hector's voice. The one promising retribution through bloodshed and pain that had made the most hardened residents of Stark Street step back. While he shared the sentiment, Ranger couldn't allow any excesses from his team. A quick recap of the personnel on site assured him that Hector could be restrained if need be.

"They're moving toward the front entrance," Hal said. His whisper was no louder than Hector's, but lacked the menace.

"She's trying to get ahead but can't," Zip warned. "She's sandwiched."

"Roger," acknowledged Ranger. "All units, slow advance to my position."

From his vantage point in the shadows, the interior of the restaurant was lit enough for him to see the trio approaching the foyer. Farther back, he could see vague movement throughout the place which seemed to be regular activity by the staff. Good. That would help cover his team as they came forward, though Ranger hadn't seen either target look back once.

A burst of raucous laughter came from the bar down the block as a small group of people spilled out onto the sidewalk. A quick glance showed Ranger that they were too far away to directly interfere with the operation, but might create other issues. After all, from a distance, at night, it might look like a kidnapping to a civilian. They might call the police, or film the capture. Those things could be dealt with, but they added time and annoyance to what should be a clean bust.

Relegating the revelers to a secondary status, he focused on the view into the restaurant where Steph and the targets were walking across the foyer. Ram was off to the side by the bench seats, phone in hand, thumb moving as if texting. Although he was facing the targets, he never lifted his head and appeared not to notice them, though Ranger had no doubt his eyes were on them. Likewise, Stephanie ignored Ram, giving no sign of recognition or acknowledgement.

O'Day, with Stephanie two steps behind him, pushed the door open, leading the way onto the sidewalk where Rangeman was waiting. Smithson cleared the door, and Ranger could see Stephanie start to side-step out of the line of fire when someone from the party down the block must have hit their key fob. Unfortunately for Rangeman, that person had been lucky enough to find street parking. There was a double chirp, and a matching double blink of white running lights. They were bright enough that Ranger's team was backlit, and highly visible as silhouettes. The lights didn't stay on, but the damage was done.

Smithson grabbed Stephanie in a choke hold half a second before Lester and Bobby put hands on O'Day. Ranger's heart skipped a beat but his weapon was already out and aimed as Smithson threw himself and his hostage back against the door, blocking Ram's exit.

Ranger barked out, "Hal. Front. NOW."

Aiming at a shoulder, he had a bead on Smithson who looked like he was searching for a weapon of his own. While he'd prefer to disable the target, there was no way that Ranger would let Steph get hurt. If disabling wasn't enough, he'd damn well escalate. Inside, he watched Hal race forward and hit the door next to where Ram was pushing, opening it enough for them to squeeze out and lunge for Smithson, who evaded their grasp.

In the few seconds that it took for those events to occur, Stephanie executed a flawless hold-release maneuver, immediately followed by a second hold-release from a wrist-grab with bonus pressure point restraint on Smithson. It was child's play after that for Ram and Hal to zip-cuff Smithson, then shove him into the waiting SUV with his buddy O'Day for delivery to the FBI.

After the SUV drove off, all eyes turned to Stephanie. Ranger could feel the surprise rolling off the others, but saw a dawning respect in their eyes as well. She had said she'd taken self defense courses over the years, but Ranger didn't know how much effort she'd put into them. Given her track record with any type of physical exertion, he hadn't expected such expertise. The immediacy of her response, combined with the fluid grace with which she moved, told a story of dedicated training. He was looking forward to sparring with her, testing her limits, and he had a feeling she'd be able to hold her own in defense. He was proud of how well she'd done, and made sure to tell her so after she'd gotten kudos from Ram and Hal.

Ranger hugged her, keeping her in his arms just long enough to whisper that he was proud of her. In truth, the feelings welling up within him went way beyond mere pride. There was joy, relief, happiness, satisfaction, and others he couldn't put a name to. Woven throughout all of those was a love threaded so deeply that it felt like an intrinsic part of him, body and soul.

Stepping away from her he gave the order to return to the dining room. "Let's get this gear packed away so we can all head out. I know some of you have early starts tomorrow."

As the others filed into the private room, Ranger hung back, intending to hand his equipment to Hector then go to the owner's office and inform him the operation was over, the outcome positive. Instead, Mel saved him a trip, showing up in front of him in the hallway with a relieved smile, his face flushed pink.

"That was amazing," said Mel. "I admit I was rather nervous about what might happen so I was watching on the security monitors – the Rangeman consultant was right, by the way, we really did need those additional cameras. Anyway, I'm just awed by how quick and quiet it all was. Not one customer noticed anything. If I hadn't seen it myself, I would never have known it happened."

"Thanks for your cooperation," Ranger said, as he shook Mel's hand. "We'll need the room a bit longer as we pack up. If there's a charge for the additional time, I understand. I'd like the check as soon as it's ready."

"It's on the house," Mel declared, beaming at him.

"That's a very generous offer," countered Ranger, "but I will have to decline."

The man's face fell. "Oh, but–"

"I appreciate the gesture," Ranger said, "but in the security business it's important to avoid even the appearance of unethical behavior."

"What? Why would –" Mel's eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. He looked alarmed. "Oh! Not bribery! No, no that's not at ALL –"

"I know it's not what you meant," Ranger assured him. "I took the offer in the spirit in which it was intended, and I thank you for it. Others, people who weren't part of this transaction, might misunderstand."

While true, that was only part of it. Rangeman was long past its cash-poor start up days, when bartering was often a necessary evil. Necessary, but unwelcome. Letting Mel cover the bill now might twist back onto Ranger later. Mel might want something in return, whether it was a reduction in his monthly Rangeman bill, or asking for specific services at no cost. Owing someone a favor chafed him even more now than it did back then, since there was no longer a need for it.

"I get you." Mel nodded then pulled a tissue out of his pants pocket and dabbed at his now-glistening forehead. He seemed much calmer than a moment ago. "I'll be right back with the check."

With Mel gone, Ranger was finally able to get all the way into the room. He unclipped the radio from his belt, then detached the wires with the mic and earbud and handed everything to Hector who'd been waiting for him. Standard procedure called for each Rangeman vehicle to have a case with a set of four comm units, so they had had exactly enough for this evening.

While speaking to Mel, Ranger had watched from the doorway as Hector cataloged the returns, putting everything back into the cases. Based on the way he put them away, Hector remembered which units came out of which cases. Not surprisingly, Ranger's unit was the last one turned in. Hector quickly inspected it as he coiled the wire. He slotted the unit into the only case with its lid still up, then shut and locked it.

Tank, assisted by Bobby and Lester, had done a quick debrief, mostly for the benefit of Hawk and Bucky, as it was their first brush with distractions. Once that was done, the group had swiftly turned to recounting stories, both from their years in security and their time in the military. Lester was telling one from back in his barracks days involving a unicycle, a jar of mayonnaise, and a Colonel's wife that had everyone laughing. Even taciturn Bucky had an actual smile on her face. It was small and faint, but it was there. Ranger wondered if that was how he looked when Stephanie talked about his "almost-smile".

Speaking of Stephanie – Ranger shifted his attention to her and felt himself go warm and soft inside. For the first time since he'd run into her in Chicago, she looked completely relaxed and happy as she laughed along with the others. She made a teasing comment to Lester that had everyone howling. Ram and Zero gave her high fives, and Lester saluted her. She fit right in. She'd been accepted by everyone around her, and so much of the worry he'd been carrying about their future together fell away. Make no mistake, he'd be with her regardless of what friends and family thought, as difficult as that path could have been. It looked, instead, like the path had turned into an open highway, and they'd be full throttle all the way with their friends cheering them on.

Not long afterwards, the bill was paid, and the gathering broke up. The out of towners said their goodbyes on the sidewalk, with Hector giving Stephanie one last lingering hug before they walked back to the hotel next door. Ranger's car was the first of the Core team vehicles brought up by the valet, which caused another, abbreviated, round of farewells. No handshakes this time, just a nod and some version of 'see you tomorrow'.

As he drove back to Rangeman, Ranger thought again about everyday Stephanie versus how she acted during the distraction and was amused by the differences. When she was in character, she could be bold and brash, doing and saying things that she never would as herself. Parking in his reserved spot in the garage, he turned off the engine and watched as Stephanie unclipped her seat belt. She paused when she noticed he hadn't moved, and looked at him curiously.

Raising one eye-brow and smiling, Ranger asked, "Spit-roasted?"

He'd long known what it meant and was fairly certain that not only did everyone listening know the term, but that some of them may have had experience with it. However, it was certainly not the kind of slang term he'd expected Stephanie to be aware of, much less hear her say.

Stephanie blushed, her eyes darting away in embarrassment for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Someone posted a screenshot with that exact phrase online somewhere a couple of years ago. I had to read the comments then Google it before I figured out what it meant." She narrowed her eyes. "You already knew, didn't you?"

Ranger's smile turned into an all-out grin. Stephanie rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him, then laughed. She opened her door and got out instead of waiting for him to come around.

As they made their way through the building, Ranger tackled a more important subject. This was something he wanted to make very clear.

"Thank you for helping us out this evening," he said. "It's very much appreciated, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do so in any way. Just because you used to help us out by doing distractions doesn't mean it's expected now."

"Don't worry. When we talked about getting back together, I hadn't planned on being a part of any Rangeman activities," Stephanie said. "If it hadn't been a time-sensitive situation, and if I hadn't felt completely comfortable with everyone involved, then I wouldn't have offered." Looking thoughtful, she continued. "I had forgotten about the adrenaline rush and the crash later. At least that hasn't hit yet but I'm sure it will soon. More importantly –" she grimaced and shivered "– I forgot about the cooties."

"Cooties?"

Puzzled, he tried to conjure up anything associated with that word. The only memory that came up was of her couch, which had to be thrown out because of 'death cooties', but that had nothing to do with distractions. Ushering her into the elevator, he decided to skip a stop at the control room and pressed the button for his floor.

"Well, it's –," she flicked a glance at him as if reluctant to speak, or not certain if she should. She huffed, pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then started again. "It depends on the skip but sometimes the distractions make me feel … gross. Like the skip got his cooties on me. Some of these guys are so creepy just being close to them makes me feel icky. But the ones that touch me, especially skin to skin –" the shiver was more pronounced this time "– make me feel, I dunno, contaminated. Like they've smeared me with their creepiness. I swear I can feel the ick oozing over my skin like an oily mass of germs and weirdness and bad intent, and I have to go home and scrub it off." Her lip curled up, face contorted in revulsion as she recalled the sensation.

Or was it just recall? O'Day had touched her. Was that expression of deep disgust how she felt right now? Christ, Ranger hoped not. It was upsetting to learn that helping him had ever, even once, made her feel that way. Even worse, he hadn't known. Hadn't even guessed. Had he known, there was no way he'd have taken her up on her offer this evening. No way that he would have chanced her feeling that way again. No way.

"Babe," he breathed out. "Are you okay?"

The question was far too mild for the situation to the point of being inane, but he didn't really know what to say or how to say it. A chill ran down his spine and his stomach roiled as he tried to comprehend what she'd been through when they worked together, and then had to handle on her own afterwards. Whether as her employer or her lover he had a duty of care that he'd neglected. What an asshole. He wouldn't let her down this time.

With a deprecating smile she opened her mouth to reply and he knew she was going to downplay her feelings, or make a joke at her own expense. Except, as she looked at him, her gaze sharpened and she studied his face. Her smile faded, replaced with concern. Her hand came to rest lightly on his chest. The warmth of her fingers seeped through the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes met his, shifting focus from one to the other as if she could peer through directly into his thoughts. Her touch eased the turmoil within him and he put his hand over hers, pressing it firmly to him.

When Stephanie spoke, her voice was a light whisper that made him think of Tank and his wife, Livy, approaching a skittish cat. "Hey. It's okay, Ranger. I'm okay. I just need a shower and I'll be fine."

Her other hand touched his shoulder, then caressed the side of his face. The feeling of her palm on his cheek, combined with her hand on his chest grounded him, bringing him back to himself. The elevator halted with a ding and the doors opened on his floor, but neither of them moved until the doors began to close. Ranger put his hand out to stop them. Putting his arm around her waist, he escorted her out of the elevator and into the apartment. Mr. Pants, yawning and stretching, came to meet them at the door. The cat got greetings and pats from both of them and followed them to the bedroom.

Stephanie dropped her purse on the dresser and kicked off her shoes. She slipped off her cardigan, discarding it on the end of the bed, before heading into the bathroom.

Ranger dropped his wallet and keys on the dresser then went into the walk-in closet. He took off his boots and belt and put them back in their place. The jacket was hung up while everything else went into the hamper. He put on his black silk boxers, then stood in the bathroom doorway, watching her. The jewelry was gone, presumably put away since he didn't see it on the counter. Most of her makeup was already gone, and she was wiping off the last of her mascara. Her eyes met his in the mirror, and she tilted her head questioningly.

"What's next in your post-distraction procedures?" Ranger asked.

She shrugged one shoulder. "I take a shower. Wash off the ick."

Ranger thought of some of the missions he'd survived. The ones where things went wrong. The ones where no amount of scrubbing could take away the feeling of his teammate's blood on his hands and his skin. No shower could be loud enough to mask the sounds that replayed in his head. The sounds of weapons fire. Of high-velocity projectiles hitting flesh. The screaming. He really hoped that her demons weren't as severe as that. He needed to know what she was dealing with to give her proper care.

"On a scale of one to ten, with one being the skip is a no-show, what was tonight?"

Stephanie considered the question for a moment. "About a six."

Ranger nodded to show that he'd heard her, then asked a follow-up question. "What's the highest?"

Without hesitating, Stephanie said, "Paulie Wilson. That was an eight"

That was unexpected. There'd been no groping or ass-grabbing with that guy. Or had there? "What did he do?"

"Licked my neck when we were dancing." She shuddered and grimaced in distaste. "Saliva. Major ick factor."

Oh. Yeah. Ranger recoiled at the thought. Major ick was right. Yet another event that he needed to atone for, though he hadn't known it at the time.

"Let me help you tonight."

She shook her head. "That's okay. I just have to scrub until the cooties are gone."

"I made you feel like this," he pointed out.

"No, the skip made me feel like this," she countered.

"Because I asked you to be there."

"No, I suggested it."

"But I agreed."

"As did I. And of the two of us, I was the only one who could have known this might happen. Not you. So there's no way you can be responsible for something you didn't know about."

"I can tell you've never been in the military," Ranger said dryly. "I just –" Running a hand through his hair, he tried to find the words. "I need to make this right. Please. Let me take care of you." He wasn't one for begging, but if that was what it took, he'd do it.

"This means that much to you?" Stephanie asked.

"It does," he confirmed.

She spread her hands out then dropped them to her sides. "Okay."

"Thank you." The anxiety that had been building fell away. "Now, wait there please."

Ranger got the water going in the walk-in shower and adjusted the temperature while Stephanie removed the rest of her clothes. Then, he checked the supplies in the stall even though he knew what was in there. Stepping out, he took her hand.

"Your hair is still up," he said, as if she didn't know what her hair was doing. In his mind, he could hear Lester's sarcastic "Thank you, Captain Obvious" and cringed.

Stephanie didn't seem to notice, merely replying "I don't want to go to bed with wet hair."

Ranger led her into the shower, standing under it with her. She looked down at his boxers, then up at his face with raised eyebrows.

"I'll put on a dry pair afterwards." He almost stopped there, but remembered her many admonitions about the benefits of plain speaking. "This is about taking care of you and what you need. Now –" he pointed at the shower supplies "– washcloth or scrubbie?"

After Stephanie pointed to the scrubbie, he went through the three different shower gels with her. He was pleased when she chose the newest one with a scent that he quite liked.

Squeezing a generous dollop of gel on the scrubbie, Ranger quietly asked, "Where did he touch you?"

She put her hand on her right wrist and Ranger followed with the scrubbie, using his left hand to hold her forearm up. Keeping his movements slow and smooth, he spread the soap, watching as the bubbles appeared and inhaling the fresh scents of bergamot and lime. The sound of the water hitting the tiles was a white noise that helped his mind relax. The water pattering over his skin was calming as well, and he hoped this cleansing was doing the same for her.

While he was hoping to soothe her with this ritual, he was also trying to make it clear that this activity was strictly motivated by concern for her well-being and not some underhanded bid for sex. If anything he erred on the clinical side. However, he wasn't sure how long it took to remove an invisible stain, or how to pick the next location. He'd wanted to disturb her as little as possible, but couldn't do this right unless he asked.

"Let me know when it's enough," he murmured, "and where to go next."

A minute later she nodded and indicated her other wrist and the scrubbie followed. The right wrist must have been from O'Day, probably a casually deliberate touch at the bar. The left wrist was Smithson from the wrist grab during the take down. Next was her neck. Smithson again from the elbow choke-hold. Ranger was relieved not to see bruising in any of these places. Last was her ass cheek from the grope at the bar which he gave the same treatment.

Once the tainted sites had been cleared, Ranger worked the scrubbie over the rest of her body. He kept the touch light and soothing, and made a point of avoiding erogenous zones. As he worked, he found himself taking inventory of her scars. There were a few newer ones that probably dated back to her time in Pittsburgh, the most worrying of which were the three long lines on her back that looked like knife wounds. One of them curved over her side, and was too close to the kidney for comfort. Someday, he'd ask about those.

For now, it hadn't escaped his notice that she'd gone mute the moment she'd entered the shower. That worried him a bit. Some things were hard to say out loud, and he wasn't sure if identifying where she'd been touched fell into that category. She'd also said that she might be heading to an adrenaline crash, so he'd been monitoring her for that. Her eyelids were starting to droop, and he thought he felt a tremor in the leg he had his hand on. Switching to the washcloth, he rinsed everywhere then shut off the water.

As he led her out of the shower, he could tell she was definitely nearing the end of her strength. He made sure the lid to the toilet was down then helped her sit. Grabbing a towel, he took a few seconds to dry himself then, with great care, patted her dry. As he worked, her eyes closed and her head leaned forward. He stuffed the towel back on the rack and hurried to the dresser, returning with one of his shirts and a pair of her panties. He pulled the t-shirt over her head and got her arms through the sleeves, kind of amazed that the process he'd learned for dressing baby Matteo worked on adults, too. He got her panties on up to her knees, then coaxed her to stand so he could pull them the rest of the way up. Her eyes stayed closed and she swayed where she stood, even with him holding onto her.

A few stumbling steps later, they were at the bedside. Holding her upright with one hand, he pulled the covers back with the other. Soon she was lying on her side, blankets over her, out like a light. He thought she might have been asleep before she'd left the bathroom. He stripped out of the wet boxers and replaced them with dry. Then he tidied the bathroom, bundling her clothes into the hamper, and placing her shoes next to his in the closet. Mr. Pants was sleeping on the bed, curled up half-on, half-off the cardigan. Ranger shifted the cat just enough to tug the sweater free, then hung it up in the closet next to his jacket. Mr. Pants gave him a reproachful look before going back to sleep.

Slipping under the covers without disturbing the cat again, Ranger scooted over until he was spooned up behind Stephanie. Dropping his arm over her waist, he pulled her as close to him as humanly possible. Holding her in his arms as she slept was a balm to his soul. Always had been. The feeling went beyond intimacy to connection. There was a special warmth and love he had always felt when it was just the two of them, alone in their own little bubble, and vulnerable with sleep. Dios he'd missed this. He kissed the back of her neck and fell asleep.