Having finished up Little Wolf earlier this evening, I have been given permission by my best, whom we all should know by now, rules my life, to start posting the story I started writing a while ago but wasn't allowed to post until I'd finished a story. Here it is.

Over Your Head

Chapter One

It's started with a disaster. Of course it did. My life was just one disaster after another. It makes sense that it started with an explosion of fire and car parts. I wasn't even anywhere near the car when it happened. I'd ducked into Macy's to buy a new pair of sneakers after my previous pair had been destroyed beyond repair (the right one had been eaten by a dog and the left vomited on, there's no coming back from that). I wasn't in there that long. Just long enough to find the cheapest pair of sneakers in my size – no point in spending the extra money when they're just gonna be ruined in a month or two anyway – and get out. I was at the counter paying for them when it happened.

The building shook with the force. Little kids screamed. Big kids yelled about alien attacks. Adults cried out things like "Earthquake!" and "Bomb!" At least some of them were right. It was a bomb. It was a car bomb.

It's always a car bomb.

While shop assistance and security guards tried to keep everyone calm and safe, I found myself running for the exit. I wasn't the only one, but unlike the others, I had a pretty good idea of where the explosion had originated even before I made it to the carpark. Just as I reached the doors, another explosion shook the ground. I almost lost my footing. A few people around me did.

I stood on the concrete outside the mall staring at the blaze on the other side of the lot. The good thing is, I have shit luck with the parking fairy, so the car was nowhere near the building when it went off. That could have been disastrous. Given the size of the blaze, it could have caused a lot of damage to the building if I'd managed to get a park in front of the doors like when Ranger or the Merry Men are driving. The bad thing is, I also have shit luck with cars, so while I wasn't particularly shocked to see my car go up in flames, the fact that it was now spreading to others around it did not bode well. We needed to evacuate mall to a safe distance away.

Like Australia.

I started backing up, back towards the entrance, but people were still streaming out, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on. No sense of self-preservation at all in this crowd. So all I could do was stand there. Staring. Feeling the waves of heat buffeting me, burning my face.

Another car exploded. Sending shockwaves through the air. I'd be lucky to have eyebrows if this kept up. The vibrations from that last blast seemed to last forever. Until I realised it was my phone ringing in my pocket.

I dug it out. Grimacing.

"Hey Joe," I sighed.

"Just heard of a car explosion at the mall," he said lightly. "That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"

I rolled my eyes. I could hear sirens now, but wasn't sure if it was coming from the phone as he raced to the site, or if it was because emergency services were drawing near. "Just one explosion?" I asked. "No, that can't be me. There've been three where I am. Must be a different mall." I'd found that sarcasm was one of my best defences. He'd long since stopped believing my denials, so now I wore a suit of sarcasm. The Merry Men found it hilarious. Joe, and Ranger less so.

"Three?" he exclaimed. "For fuck sake, Steph, how do you always get yourself into these situations?"

"I needed new shoes," I said honestly, just as a beeping started in my ear. I was getting another call. Probably Ranger. "Look, Joe, I have to go, and you'll probably be here soon anyway."

"Tell Manoso he can have you," Joe said, sounding frustrated. "I need a break."

I didn't have time to question what that meant before he'd hung up and the phone was ringing again. Right in my ear. I moved it away long enough to accept the call and then returned it. "Hey Ranger," I said.

"Babe," he replied. And without the subtle differences in his barely there facial expressions it was hard to tell what exactly he was getting at. It could have been a 'glad you're alive'. Then again, it could have just as easily have been a 'how do you get yourself into these situations?' just like Joe asked.

"It wasn't my fault," I told him.

"It never is." He sounded calm, but Ranger always sounded calm. Even when he was flying off the handle, he was calm. On the outside. In his tone. I was pretty sure there was classical music playing in the background.

"I just needed to buy new sneakers," I said, staring down at the toe of my one remaining shoe and the sock on the other foot. I'd left my new ones at the register when the first blast rocked through the building.

"See you soon," he replied, apparently deciding not to get into the finer details right then.

I was left with dead air and my phone still held to my ear when another car blew up. Pulling the device away from my face, I decided to turn it off before my mother caught wind of the situation and started accusing me of ruining her life. Again. Still.

It didn't take all that long for the fire engines and police cars to start arriving. The latter made sure to park far away from the disaster zone, trekking in on foot from the street. They broke into groups, some to go help put out the fire. Some to usher everyone back into the building. Some to start questioning people. I knew the moment I'd been recognised by the boys in blue, because there was immediately a huddle of about six of them, they appeared to be playing Scissors Paper Rock. Or taking bets. It was hard to see properly through the haze of smoke billowing from the other side of the car park.

Eventually one of them craned his neck to look at me, squared his shoulders, said one more thing to the group and broke off. He was heading in my direction, a grim set to his jaw. Clearly he'd drawn the short straw.

"Ms Plum?" he asked. "I'm Constable Roger Rampart, I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

It took a lot of effort not to roll my eyes. "It started with my car," I informed him before he had a chance to get a single word out. It was easier this way. "I came to buy new shoes. I was in the store about fifteen minutes when the explosion went off. I don't know of any stalkers or people with a grudge against me at the moment. Honestly, I think the engine was dying anyway, so maybe it just gave up. If I was the car stuck with me I'd probably commit suicide too."

He stared at me for a second, unblinking. Probably shocked at the fact that I could answer all his questions without him asking a single one. He clearly forgot that this wasn't my first rodeo. "Uh, thank you for your cooperation," he said, grabbing out a notebook from his pocket and scribbling some details down. He fished a card out of his chest pocket and handed it to me. "If you think of anything else or anything else happens just-"

"Give you a call," I finished for him. "Thank you Constable."

The moment he walked away, shaking his head lightly, I felt that familiar tingle on the back of my neck. I glanced around, trying to find where Ranger was hiding, but was met with Joe instead.

"Cupcake," he greeted. There was no inflection in his voice. No expression on his face. No teasing glint in his eyes. Normally, this would be the part where he told me what a disaster I was and I would lie to him about what exactly was going on. He'd give me a hug and send me on my way, suggesting pizza and beer later. It was a tango we'd danced a thousand times since I'd become a Bounty Hunter. It was familiar. It was comfortable in that uncomfortable way we'd settled into it.

"I know," I sighed. "I'm a disaster."

"No doubt about it," he agreed.

"It really wasn't my fault," I said, shifting away from the blaze as the smoke began to thicken. I should get out of dodge before I was sent to the hospital for smoke inhalation. "I just needed new shoes." I gestured down to my feet.

His gaze followed. In the past he might have grinned, or at least smiled a little with his eyes. He used to find parts of my disasters amusing. But not now. I'd noticed the last couple of times he'd been called to one of my scenes that his heart just wasn't in it. Even his complaints that I wasn't cut out for the Bounty Hunting business had been lacklustre lately. It was like he was losing interest. Giving up the fight.

We hadn't been fighting nearly as much lately. Arguments were down at least fifty percent from where they were a year ago. And I had thought that that meant we were final maturing. Getting past the petty differences between us. But as I watched him grit his teeth now, his eyebrows knitted together as he stared down at my sock, I realised what it really meant. The lack of fire between us wasn't because we'd finally gotten the blaze under control. It was because we'd already been burnt to a crisp. What we were living in was the blackened ash of the forest fire that was our relationship.

I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"I'll be over tomorrow to collect my stuff," I said, beating him to the punchline. "I'll text beforehand so you can be there, or not, if you want."

"Steph," he groaned, finally looking up from my feet. His eyes were pure agony. He didn't want to break up.

"It's time," I said gently. "I understand. We can't go on living like this."

"I never wanted it to end like this," he informed me. "I never wanted us to end like this."

I shook my head, and even though a relieved sense of calm was beginning to settle over me, I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes. Break ups were never easy, and just because this one was serene in comparison to our usual method, didn't mean it didn't hurt. It felt like the car fire across the lot had jumped to my heart and was preparing it to explode now. "We both knew it would," I said softly, my voice thick. "We both saw the signs. We just ignored them too long."

Slowly, gently, Joe pulled me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me as he settled his chin on the top of my head. "You're always better when you're with him," he whispered. "You're stronger. You're surer. You're calmer."

"Don't," I gasped, tears spilling out of my eyes and onto his shirt.

"We were never meant to be, Steph," Joe was murmuring. "The moment I saw you with him, I knew he was better for you. I knew he could be the support you needed. You don't belong in the Burg. You never have. No Burg kid tries to fly off the garage roof. But the Burg is all I'll ever be. You need more. Manoso is more. Manoso is the anti-Burg. He's what you need."

I didn't try to stop him. It was the nicest thing he'd ever said about me and Ranger. But I couldn't accept it. I couldn't accept him suggesting I be with him. Now. While my heart is still breaking. I love Joe. I think I always will. I can't imagine my life without him. I can't imagine who I'd be without him in my life. And I can't imagine what my mother is going to say when news reaches her that we've broken up. Again. Or when she realises that I've moved straight on to Ranger.

All I could think about in that moment was the look of disappointment on my mother's face. The way my father would just glance at the man at the table and duck his head over his plate. Not wanting to comment and upset me more than Mom already would have by that point, but not wanting to say he agreed that I'd moved to fast. Again.

"I can't," I mumbled into his chest, sniffing up the snot that was threatening to leak out of my nose. "Don't."

"You and Ranger were meant to be," Joe explains earnestly, pulling away so he can meet my gaze. "Anyone can see it. You'll be happier."

And that's when I snapped. I couldn't do that to my parents. Not after everything else I'd put them through in the last five years.

"Joe, stop," I bit out.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Apparently he was hell bent on giving me his blessing. "You'll both be happier. Together. I think. That's all I ever wanted, Steph. You safe and happy. I realise now that I can't be the man to make that happen. I worry every time you're out of my sight. I hate that you're constantly out there risking your life because I know that there's always a chance that you won't come back. That one day whatever tail you're chasing is going to fight back too hard and you're not going to pull through. I don't know how cops' wives do it."

"Joe," I said again. Louder. More forceful. "Stop." And when he finally met my gaze – at some point he'd returned to staring at my sock – it was full of pain. The kind of pain that only came from a broken heart. This break up, like all our others, had been a long time coming and the fact that it came quietly and without the usual Italian flare made it all the worse. He knew – he had to – that this was the end. The ultimate act of love in our ever tumultuous relationship. If you love someone, let them go, they say. That's what this was.

"I understand," I told him gently, lifting my left hand to caress his face. "I want you to be happy too. And as long as we're together, it's not going to happen. Maybe in a few years we can be friends."

"Maybe," he said quietly.

For the longest time, we just stood there, holding eye contact. I hadn't realised he looked so tired lately. There were bags under his eyes so deep they could probably hold my entire wardrobe. This break up would do him good. Maybe could finally quit worrying himself into an early grave. Maybe he could find himself a nice, demure Burg girl to be his wife. To cook and clean and look after him the way he deserved to be looked after.

Eventually, the smoke got to me and I was seized by a coughing fit.

"You should probably go inside," Joe suggested, glancing around. The spectators had all been cleared away. All that was left were emergency services.

"Right," I agreed. "I need to go see if my shoes are still at the register." I took a single step away, dipping my hand into my pocket to check that my phone was still there out of habit, when my ring caught on the hem of the fabric. Like it always did. I'd finally gotten used to it in the last couple of weeks. Slowly, I removed the hand from the pocket, sliding the ring off my finger and turning to face Joe once more. "I should probably return this to you," I said, holding it out to him, but instead of take it, he stepped backwards, away from me.

"Keep it," he said, holding up both hands, palms out as if to ward me off.

"Joe, it's my engagement ring," I pointed out. "We're-"

"Exactly," he interrupted. "Your engagement ring. I bought it for you. You should keep it. It's not like I have any use for it now."

I shrugged, feeling bad for him, but he did initiate this break up, so I wasn't too sorry. "Save it for when that special woman comes along some day," I said, closing the gap between us.

He stepped back again.

"You want me to recycle a wedding ring?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, not when you say it like that," I huffed. "But seriously, Joe, it must have cost a lot. You could always return it."

He shook his head. "I don't think the Burg needs more fule for the gossip forest fire, do you?"

"You're embarrassed," I said.

"Damn right, I'm embarrassed," he admitted. "I bought that ring for you because I thought we were finally going to have our happily ever after and I didn't think you'd want Grandma Bella's potentially cursed hand-me-down ring on your finger for the rest of your life. Besides, there was a guy in there returning a ring while I was buying yours. I don't want those sales girls looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

He shuddered at the very thought. "Pity and hunger."

I stared down at the ring in my hand. A single diamond set in the swirl of a white gold band so that it looked like the metal was cupping it from both sides. It was beautiful. I'd been thoroughly surprised. Shocked, really. Not just because he was actually asking me to marry him. With a ring and everything. But because he'd chosen it so carefully especially for me.

"You really want me to keep it?" I asked.

"I really do. Get it converted into a pendant or something. That'd be nice, right?"

I slipped the ring onto my right hand for safe keeping. "I'll keep it," I assured him. "And thank you."

"Honestly, Cupcake, you're doing me a favour."

"No, I meant for not making a scene."

"Oh, that." He grinned and it was a relief to see that glint back in his eye. "I think our last break up more than made up for it, don't you?"

He had a point. The last time we'd broken up was immediately after yet another one of my disasters. A warehouse was on fire, fire fighters were working frantically on controlling the blaze before it spread to the surrounding buildings. Police were everywhere as well, noting down evidence and talking to witnesses. Workers from the construction site across the road had all clocked off an come over to see what was going on and if they could be of any assistance.

There must have been a hundred people milling around the area when Morelli had rolled up, lights flashing almost as brightly as his temper.

After ensuring that I wasn't injured – aside from the gash in my forearm that I'd received two days earlier in a different pursuit of the same mystery – he proceeded to rant at me for ten minutes strait about safety, security, self-preservation and the likes.

I shouldn't blame him though. I had completely ignored all his very reasonable warnings when I'd mentioned my plan at breakfast that morning. And there I was shaken and fearing for my life. Just like he said I would be.

Anyway, as he rant ended, he stepped forward, but his face still wasn't looking friendly, so I stumbled back away from him, knocking into whoever had been standing right behind me and setting off an elaborate and unfortunate Mouse Trap-esque chain of events that ended with an explosion and the swift evacuation of every person on the premises.

Nothing was ever going to top that scene. It was Joe and I at our worst.

I gave a little smile then. "True," I said. "I'll come by and start packing up my stuff tomorrow."

"Where are you going to stay tonight?" he asked, concerned all of a sudden. Another good point. The lease on my apartment had run out three weeks ago and since Joe and I were both convinced this time was for real, I'd decided not to renew it. I guess I was homeless now. "You should stay at the house tonight," he suggested, clearly following my train of thought. "I'll bunk on Mooch's couch."

I shook my head. "That's ridiculous," I said. "It's your house. I cans stay at Rangeman." And then, because his eyes inadvertently widened with a flash of sadness and he sucked in a sharp breath, despite the fact that he'd just spent the last five minutes convincing me that I was meant to be with Ranger, I added, "They keep one of the apartments on four free in case of emergency."

I was pretty sure this was true. The time we'd rescued a woman from torture and she needed a place to stay while she recuperated that would be safe from the threat of her ex there had been a room readily available for her. It made sense to keep one apartment unoccupied for such occasions and I knew that every now and then one of the Boston or Miami crew members would stay in the Trenton building while here on business, so my theory was no unfounded. Whether or not it was available at this very moment or if I could use it myself, was an entirely different kettle of fish. Usually when I stayed at Rangeman I stayed with Ranger. In Ranger's bed. With Ranger less than three inches away.

"I'll let you know when I'm coming around," I reminded him, stepping away once more.

"I should get to work."

We both nodded a goodbye. Awkward and stiff like we hadn't been ever. And I power limped the best I could back into the cool air of the shopping centre in search of the replacement sneakers I'd abandoned. It wasn't until I'd retrieved the bag that the cashier had thoughtful stowed behind the counter and made my way to a nearby bench to swap over footwear that the tingling on my neck came again.

I'd forgotten about Ranger's presence earlier. Too caught up in the final death throes of my relationship. But now it was impossible to ignore. He'd probably watched the whole exchange at a distance far enough away to be out of direct sight but close enough that he could hear every word. I finished tying the second shoelace and finally laid a hand on the back of my neck, attempting to ease the feeling there.

"Babe," his voice rumbled from directly behind me.

"Ranger," I replied, shifting on the bench to take in the full length of him. I wasn't particularly in the mood to engage in one word conversations right now. I didn't have the brain capacity.

"My condolences," he said.

I shrugged, not for the first time today. "It was inevitable."

His eyebrow lifted at that, like he wasn't expecting that response from me.

"Are you referring to the car or the engagement?" I asked.

"Either."

A sigh erupted from my chest before I could smother it. "Same," I admitted. "I don't know why, but I thought this time would be different."

"Babe," Ranger repeated, sitting down on the bench beside me, facing the opposite way. He didn't look comfortable at all, probably because his back was not up against a wall and therefore vulnerable, but it was clear that I meant more to him than keeping everything in view right at that second. "You really shouldn't expect much from a car you paid five hundred bucks for at the second hand lot next to the junk yard," he pointed out, and I laughed, because we both knew I was referring to Joe, which meant he was making a joke. Trying to cheer me up.

"I was stupid and naïve, wasn't I?" I asked, staring directly into the deep brown pools of his eyes, seeking the truth, but finding only the expressionless stare he wore so often.

"You were in love," he countered.

"I thought I was in love," I corrected. "Clearly I wasn't."

Ranger considered me silently for several long moments, his gaze boring into mine. Finally, he picked up my right hand, turning the ring around my finger a couple of times. "How do you feel right now?" he asked quietly.

I almost choked on the air in my lungs. Ranger didn't do feelings talks. Hell, I didn't do feelings talks. It was uncharted territory for the both of us. I didn't even know how to respond. I wasn't adept at putting my emotions into words. Usually I just ate birthday cake. And there was, of course, the fact that the man I was pretty sure I loved, was asking me about how I felt following the breakdown of my relationship with the other guy I was pretty sure I loved. Surely that was a forbidden topic?

"I, um…" I stammered, staring down at our hands, his thumb was still fiddling with my ring. "Like my heart has been knocked off the mantel piece and smashed to smithereens before being thrust back into my chest," I described honestly. "It's broken and jagged, and causing everything around it to bleed."

"Do you think you would feel like that if you didn't honestly love Morelli?" he asked, further shocking me. We were now deep in the treacherous woods of meaningful conversation. And I didn't know what to do.

"I don't know."

He nodded. Retracting his hand to delve into his pocket. A moment later, he brought out a set of keys. Actual keys. Not a piece of plastic programmed open doors. Not a button to start a car. Real, metal keys with groves and jangling and ordinariness. Slowly and methodically, Ranger began to remove an average sized gold one from the key ring before holding it out to me.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's the key to Tank's granny flat," he explained. "He said you could use it until you find your own apartment and figure out what you're doing."

"Tank has a granny flat?"

The tiny crow's feet at the corners of his eyes deepened like he was trying not to smile. "Don't worry," he said. "It does not come complete with Tank's granny."

As always, I welcome your response with open arms. Metaphorically.