So, clearly, this turned out to be not a one shot. It will, however be a very slow progressing story, so I wouldn't hold your breath between chapters.

Chapter 2

Lester's POV

I watched on the monitor as Ranger's SUV pulled into the underground parking garage, holding my breath as he cut off the engine and opened his door. He stepped out of the vehicle, rolling his shoulders lightly to readjust his posture after the drive, but the moment the passenger side door opened my attention was caught. Waiting. Ranger leaned down and said something to his travel buddy through the car before straightening once more and closing his door. I was vaguely aware of his progress to the back of the car, but as a hand appeared from within the car and gripped the top of the passenger door, I sat up a little straighter. Seconds passed. My chest began to protest the lack of oxygen flowing through it as I continued to hold my breath hostage. Then, finally, a shock of curly hair appeared, followed by a woman who was undoubtedly Stephanie Plum.

The air whooshed from my lungs.

"It's really her," Bobby breathed beside me.

"She looks good, right?" I asked.

"Her hair is shorter."

"Yeah. But her figure is good."

As we watched, she closed the door she'd just emerged from, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees to take in her surroundings. I could only imagine what it was like for her to be stepping into the garage for what feels like the first time, seeing all those black SUVs lined up in rows. It's a lot to take in when you're not expecting it, and given that the Stephanie Plum that we were watching at the moment apparently didn't have any recollection of Rangeman and our infamous black on black on black theme (modelled after the Men in Black, or perhaps modern day Batman), it had to be a little confronting.

"Why don't we have audio on the garage?" Bobby asked, leaning across to fiddle with the settings before making a frustrated noise and sitting back in his seat, arms crossed.

"Because it would be useless," Cal pointed out from my other side. He was actually watching the monitors, rather than just spying on Steph and Ranger. Bobby and I had been staked out at the monitors desk for an hour now, unwilling to miss the moment they arrived. We would have done so in Tank's office on his private computer – the only other system to have access to the live feeds apart from Ranger's devices and the screens before us – but he took one look at us when we appeared in his doorway and straight armed us back out, stating that he didn't have time for our bullshit today.

To be fair, he doesn't have time for our bullshit most days. So Bobby and I are quite used to resorting to Plan B. In this case, Plan B involved dragging our office chairs out of our cubicles, and shoving Cal and Jennings over so that Bobby wasn't blocking the corridor. Ranger would probably have a fit if he found out that we were distracting the monitor guys, but I figured the benefits far outweighed the risks at this point. Besides, it's not like Bobby and I were supposed to be working right now. Our shifts ended over an hour ago. We were just hanging around for that first glimpse of the woman Ranger was bringing back from Miami.

He'd been at the Miami office for a couple of months, overseeing the investigation into a major security breech at a high profile client's company. Somehow the breech had been missed for several days and was causing havoc on the internals, leaking information and generally gumming up the works. Ranger had gone down to personally see to it that issue was cleared up. We'd expected him back a few weeks ago. I guess now we knew why he hadn't high tailed it back up here once the job was cleared.

"Ninety percent of the recording would be engines revving," Jennings added. "It's easier to just have you sit there and make car noises."

I tossed Jennings an appreciative grin. He may have only been new, but he definitely understood how I operated. "Good one."

Bobby let out another frustrated sigh. "I wanna know what they're saying," he whined.

"We all wanna know what they're saying," Cal agreed.

"It they ever deigned to face the cameras I might consider calling Ghost over to lip read for us," I said, tilting my head to the side in a futile attempt to make the screen see around corners. Trust Ranger to keep his back to the cameras. He knew exactly where all of them were, and he never failed to hide his secrets by working his knowledge to his advantage. "We'll just have to wait for them to come upstairs."

And so, we watched as Ranger called the elevator and they both stepped on board. They stood further apart than I think they ever had before, keeping a sold ten inches between them at all times where in the past there would have been a maximum of six. Ranger's body language was relaxed like usual, standing solidly, but comfortably. Steph, on the other hand, was a bundle of nerves, arms crossed over her chest as she fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt sleeves, a small crease forming between her brows.

Ranger said something to her, and she shrugged, lowering her arms as she replied. His lips quirked in a smile and I had to suppress a lovesick sigh. They'd always been adorable together. There was no one who could bring out Ranger's more human side like Steph could. The last two years without her had been utterly painful for all of us. Getting Ranger to relax and have some fun was like pulling teeth, which, for obvious reasons, defeats the purpose of the exercise. Hopefully now that she was back, he'd start to loosen up a little more again. I missed my carefree cousin.

"Where are they going?" I asked Cal. "Are they going straight to the seventh floor?"

"Yes," Cal confirmed shortly.

"But why?" Bobby cried, throwing his hands in the air. "We haven't seen her in two years! We wanna see her! We wanna make sure she's okay! We wanna-"

"You know why they're not coming here first," I pointed out.

He crossed his arms over his chest in a huff, the kind that made my stomach do a little flip. Every little action he made drove me to insanity, but I had to agree with him on this standpoint. I really would have liked to see Steph sooner rather than late, but Ranger was back in town to deal with a job, and if her memory was as bad as Tank made out dropping her off on the fifth floor to be baby sat by a large group of even larger men probably wasn't the best idea. It didn't matter that we loved her and would never do a thing to hurt her mentally or physically. The likelihood of her feeling comfortable with us all staring at her, especially knowing that we know her, but she doesn't know us, was slim to none.

*o*

"Well?" I demanded, trailing behind my cousin as he made his way from the elevator to his office. I was dying for a full explanation of what was going on here. He'd disappeared into his apartment with Steph for about ten minutes before re-emerging alone. I knew he needed to make is way across town to deal with the Jameson break in, but that didn't mean he couldn't do some explaining while he prepared.

"Well what?" Ranger replied, his mind clearly elsewhere.

"What's up with Bomber?!" Bobby insisted, sounding as frustrated as I felt as he too joined the procession down the hallway.

Ranger paused barely a second as he opened his office door to glance back at us, a deep furrow between his brow telling us more than he probably meant to. He was worried. "Tank assured me he would brief the company on Stephanie's status," he said shortly, turning away from us once again as he continued his pre-set flight path.

His mind was already on the job ahead of him, probably having compartmentalised Stephanie until he got back. It was how we'd all had to work during our years under the government's thumb. We'd been made to do unthinkable things in our lives, and having thoughts of home and family while you were following out those orders was sure to send you crazy. Likewise, thinking about your misdeeds once you were home wouldn't benefit you at all. That's what Ranger was doing here. Stephanie was upstairs in his apartment, safely squared away out of harm's way. The physical embodiment of a mental compartmentalisation.

Probably, my nagging him about Steph was opening up that mental door and letting his thoughts and feelings out when all he wanted, all he needed, to do was focus on getting through the job ahead of him. I couldn't suppress my curiosity for his sake, though.

"He did," I assured him, quick to ensure Tank didn't get his ass kicked for disobeying orders. That was the last thing I wanted to be the cause of, because if Tank got his ass kicked, he'd then turn around and kick my ass. And I liked my ass unkicked. "The problem was, it wasn't very informative."

Nodding, Bobby added, "It consisted of exactly forty-five words, to be precise," and he proceeded to quote the big guy's briefing word for word: "Ranger is on his way back from Miami. He's bringing Stephanie Plum with him. She had no memory of her life before two years ago. Anyone pulls any funny shit and they'll find themselves in Bobby's office following an appointment with me in the gym."

"Frankly, it raised more questions than it answered" I said, stepping closer to the desk where Ranger was now rummaging through a pile of files. "Where has she been the last two years?"

"What happened to her after she left that building?" Bobby chimed in from right beside me.

"Why doesn't she remember anything?" I questioned.

"Does she have a head injury?" Bobby asked.

"How did you find her?"

"How long ago did you find her?"

"If she has no memories of her life, how did you convince her to come with you?"

"What-"

Bobby's latest question was cut off as Ranger slammed his hands down on the desk, glaring up at us with an uncharacteristically expressive face. The kind that usually sent those caught in its gaze packing. I'd been subjected to it a time or two before in my life, though, so I wasn't shitting my pants just yet. A little apprehensive, yes, but not so much that I'd lost control of my bowels.

"I. Don't. Know," he seethed, eyes flashing. "I don't know the answers to most of those questions, and I didn't have time to pass the ones I do know to Tank over the phone. I came back to deal with Jameson, so that's what I'm going to do. Right. Now." Tossing a glance to Bobby and then back to me, to make sure we were paying attention, he added, "I'll give a more thorough briefing of her circumstances at the morning meeting tomorrow." And with that, he turned on his heel, slamming down his blank masked as he did so, and marched back out of his office, leaving Bobby and I staring after him.

It wasn't often that Ranger showed any kind of emotion at all, least of all the kind of anger and frustration he'd just pegged at us. Whatever the full situation was with Steph, it couldn't be good, and it was obviously getting to him more than he liked if his temper tantrum just now was anything to go by.

"He's just stressed," Tank announced from the doorway. "And annoyed that Jameson won't talk to anyone but him. He'll be back to normal by the meeting tomorrow." And he too, was off down the hallway to accompany the boss and placate the client. And, most likely, ensure that Ranger didn't let his current mood get to him and start setting heads to roll.

"Why does it feel like Mom just told us to leave Dad alone after he got home from a long day at work?" I asked Bobby, crossing to the door. There was no reason for us to linger in the office. It held none of the answers we sought. And even if it did hold some of the answers, literally everything was password protected. Ranger's secrets, and by extension, Steph's would have to remain for now.

"Probably because that's exactly what happened," Bobby replied, knocking my shoulder with his. "I hope they're not getting a divorce."

I grinned at him. "Nah," I said. "They're not even fighting. Dad's just under a lot of pressure at work."

"At least he brought us home a present from his trip this time," Bobby pointed out, matching my grin as we made our way back toward the command floor. "I mean, we're not allowed to play with it, or even look at it at the moment, but we got a present."

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. This was yet another reason I loved Bobby. He never hesitated to fully immerse himself in my bullshit. Most of our friends and colleagues would have rolled their eyes and told me to grow up when I implied that Tank and Ranger were our parents, but Bobby jumped on board without a second thought. "The wait will be worth it," I assured him. Waiting for Stephanie Plum was always worth it. There was never a dull moment when she was around. As evidenced by the fact that she hadn't even been back in the building for an hour and she already had Ranger out of sorts.

Actually, looking at it logically, Ranger had probably been out of sorts for the last few weeks. Ranger had never been very good at keeping his hands to himself, especially when it came to Steph, but if the short scene we'd been privileged enough to witness earlier in the garage and elevator were anything to go by Ranger had been working with his hands tied behind his back. No one liked that kind of handicap, especially my success driven cousin. He was probably chomping at the bit just to tuck a curl behind her ear.

"Race you back to the apartment," Bobby said, taking off at a sprint once we'd reached the end of the hall. I had to scramble to catch up, because Bobby, the cheating bastard, had already been accelerating as he laid down the challenge.

Even though I could have jumped over the rail and overtaken him on the brief run down the stairs, I resisted. For several reasons. First, Bobby was a sore loser and if I beat him back he would mope for at least an hour, regardless of the fact that he'd cheated to begin with and any victory he managed should be null and void. Secondly, last tie I'd jumped the rail I'd rolled my ankle and Bobby had refused to treat it in house because it was 'my own stupid fault' and it 'served me right for being an idiot'. He'd made me visit a doctor's office, which he knew I didn't like. I wasn't quite as bad as Steph and her complete despise for medical practitioners, but I was in no way comfortable with people I don't know sticking things like needles into my body. And thirdly, if I overtook him, I would miss the opportunity to admire his ass on the way down the hall downstairs.

We were evenly matched in most areas, including a foot race, at least when one of us wasn't trying to perv on the other, so despite bobby's cheating and me deliberately slowing to watch the movement of his buns, we arrived at our apartment door at the same time.

"What do you suppose caused her memory loss?" Bobby asked, fobbing open the door while I checked myself for drool, proving that our minds had been in very different places during our race.

"Well, you're the doctor," I pointed out, following him in. "What's most likely?"

"I'm not a doctor," he reminded me. "I'm a medic. You know that. But there's a lot of different reasons a person can lose their memories. For it to not have come back after two years, though…"

I made a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator and passing one to Bobby. "She hasn't been around anything or anyone familiar in that time," I said. "That wouldn't help the situation, right? A person would regain their memories quicker if they were around familiar things and people?"

Bobby shook his head slowly, sliding down into one of the chairs at the small round table. It was my night to cook, so he was settling in to keep me company, he would have offered to help if not for the fact that I was a Nazi in the kitchen. It was just one of the places we'd had to draw a line in the sand. Especially after a near miss with a paring knife when Bobby hadn't cut the carrots right. "Not necessarily," he said just as slowly as his movements. "Like I said, there's all sorts of reasons someone could lose their memories, and there's all sorts of reasons it could stay gone. Everything from injury to trauma. There's often no rhyme or reason to it."

I pulled out the ingredients I needed while he spoke, dividing my attention between his thoughts and our dinner. It always helped to distract my brain when trying to problem solve or think up new ideas. In school I was always the type of kid who had to be doodling in the margins of my notebook while the teacher lectured or I'd be staring out the window and not paying attention. Nothing had changed as I grew older. I still needed the distraction in order to concentrate, which was why I always brought a notepad and a pen to meetings - I'd perfected the art of making it look like I was taking notes. And it was why none of the other guys bothered waiting until they had my undivided attention before talking through whatever they'd come to me for. So long as I knew they were talking to me, I was processing.

"So list some possibilities," I requested. "Knowing Steph, what wold be most likely to cause her to lose her entire life?"

"See that's the tricky bit," Bobby said. "If it was just a few months or a couple of years that were missing, I' say it was some kind of mental trauma. She's in the firing line often enough and been through so much that it's not out of the question that the latest event – being whatever happened to he when she left that building to get the file from the car – pushed her over the edge and her brain called a lock down in the memory bank.

"But what happened?" I pressed, brandishing my knife in frustration. I loved a good mystery, but that didn't mean I was patient about finding out the answers.

"I don't know," Bobby sighed, leaning an elbow on the table, he was a deep thinker and judging by the crease forming between his brows, the inside of his head was a troubling place to be at the moment. "Whatever happened couldn't have been good."

I had to agree with him there. A grown woman didn't just disappear without a trace for two years, losing her memory somewhere along the way for happy, fun times. Whatever went down once she was out of view of the cameras was obviously nefarious. That, we had decided two years ago. The problem was, as time passed, we became less sure of our original assessments. What if she'd left deliberately? Well, if nothing else, the amnesia swept away some of my own doubts. The chances of Steph leaving us voluntarily – and let's be honest, why would she do that in the middle of a job, leaving behind every single one of her possessions, right down to her driver's licence? – and then having something happen that caused her to lose her memories were pretty slim.

"I guess we'll just have to wait until the morning meeting," I sighed. "Then we'll at least have more information."

"I hate that she's three floors away, after all this time, but she has no idea who we are," Bobby moaned. "I just wanna see her and make sure she's okay."

I nodded, scrapping all the vegetables I'd chopped into a pot. "Me too, man," I agreed. "But is there any way she could be anywhere near okay when she-"

My phone, sitting on the table next to Bobby now that I was off-duty and no longer required to be contactable, started ringing. I frowned. Bobby checked the read out and copied my expression. "Control room," he announced, holding out to me as I crossed the small kitchen to retrieve it. "Why would they be calling you?"

It wasn't the insult someone else might have interpreted it as. The facts were simple. I may be an essential part of the core team, but that didn't mean I was the go-to guy for anything in particular. If there were major, unresolvable issues, or matters where clients demanded to talk to whoever was in charge, they called Ranger. Matters of rostering and brute force were taken to Tank. Bobby was clearly the authority on anything medical. But me? I was the spare guy, able to step up and take the lead if necessary, but not in control of anything in particular on a regular basis that warranted off-duty phone calls.

"No idea," I said, slowly taking the device from Bobby's hand and swiping the appropriate icon in order to accept the call. "Yeah?"

"I thought you'd be interested to know," Cal stated efficiently, "that our guest on the seventh floor has ventured out into the building and is descending through the stairwell.

He was right. I was interested to know, but now that I had the knowledge there was the question of what I was supposed to do with it. "Thanks," I told Cal, not waiting for anything else to be said before hanging up.

Stephanie Plum was loose in the building, probably giving in to her natural curiosity to explore. I had no idea what I should do about it, only what I wanted to do about it. I wanted to see her, to prove to myself that she was real, that she was here. I wanted to look her in the eye and assess for myself whether she'd truly lost her entire memory, or whether it was a convenient excuse.

Shaking that last thought out of my head – there was no use being angry or bitter about that kind of thing when I'd done the same or similar in order to get by on government missions – I clipped my phone back to my belt and returned to the stove, turning off all the burners I'd been using.

"Les?" Bobby questioned, a note of worry vibrating in the undertone.

"Come on," I said, turning to face him once more. "Steph us up and about, so it's only right that we go introduce ourselves and offer a tour before some idiot newbie stumbles across her."

As I spoke, I made my way to the door, unsurprised when he followed. It never took much to convince people to move when Steph was the destination. There was a time when men would literally race to her location after one of her patented disasters, just for the privilege of checking that she was all right. No men I knew of had every denied themselves the opportunity to bask in the glow of Steph's attention without an important reason to do so.

"How are we playing this?" Bobby asked as we passed through our apartment door and into the hallway. "Are we randomly coming across her in the stairwell?"

"That seems like the most logical plan," I agreed. "We don't want to scare her off by coming on too strong."

"Banal conversation?" he checked.

I nodded, opening the stairwell door and allowing him to enter ahead of me. "We should check his credit card history again," I said, pulling the door closed quietly. "And his wife's. There has to be something we're missing."

"I don't seen how rehashing what we already know is going to get us any closer to this guy," Bobby returned, shaking his head wearily, he was already halfway up the first set of stairs, eyes focused ahead of his journey, on the careful lookout for a certain curly hair occupant of the stairwell, while making it appear that he was no more alert to his surroundings than usual. "But I'm at a loss of what else to do at this point," he added. "If this undercover bit doesn't pan out, we'll be back at square one."

The suggestions of undercover work related to our fake case was genius, I acknowledged silently. It would give us a reason to continue upwards past the fifth floor if we didn't encounter Steph by then. The only reason any of us apart from Ranger usually had to travel that far up in the building was to visit Ella and Louis.

"Do you think Ella still has those cool orange Nikes?" I asked, skipping up a few steps so I was by his side once more. I didn't have to fake my enthusiasm for the neon footwear. The shoes were amazing, and I loved them almost as much as I loved Bobby. I'd made several offers to buy them from Ella over the last few months, each one declined with a twinkle in her eye and the tenuous excuse that she needed them for her collection or there would be a gap in her ability to provide appropriate attire for any occasion in any size.

Bobby, who had always preferred a more conservative look, was less motivated by the mention of the bright shoes. He thought they looked ridiculous. Their only worth found in the way they made me smile. At least, that's what I assumed from his adamant denial that they held any worth at all. He grunted out a discerning, "Let's hope not," rounding another corner and came to an abrupt halt. "Oh, hey," he said, leaving no doubt in my mind that we'd found Steph.

"Uh, hi," Steph's dulcet tone replied, sounding unsure of herself. "I was just, um…"

"Exploring?" I finished for her, coming to stand beside Bobby on the small landing, gazing up to the next where Steph stood, clutching the rail with white knuckles. "Can't blame you."

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, cocking her head to the side the way a puppy does when trying to understand its human's tone. She stared at us, hard, like she was trying to remember where she'd seen us before.

"You're Stephanie Plum," Bobby replied easily.

"Bombshell Bounty Hunter," I added, unable to help myself. It really was her. I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. Hell, I just wanted to pull her into a big bear hug to assure myself that she was whole, that she was real. But the way her brow creased when I added my two cents' worth t the conversation gave me pause. This was absolutely out Stephanie Plum, but that didn't change the fact the she had no memories of her life, and by extension, anyone in this building.

"Bombshell?" she asked, her hand twitching on the rail. "Ranger said I was a bounty hunter, but he never used the word 'bombshell'. Was that what you called me?"

Bobby shook his head. "It's a long story, and Lester shouldn't have brought it up," he said. "At least not until you got a chance to settle in and meet some people properly."

She rolled her eyes, and I wanted to with joy. I'd dreamed of seeing those baby blues rolling again. I felt like I needed to pinch myself. Surely she wasn't really here. Surely I'd fallen asleep in the break room and this was all some elaborate vision put together by my subconscious and spurred on by the pizza I'd eaten at lunch.

"I'm hardier than I look," she said, interrupting my thoughts as she started down the stairs toward us. "You have to be when every single thing in the world is unfamiliar. Otherwise you break."

I smiled, tamping down on the sadness her words caused to well up inside me. I hated that she'd had to go through whatever she'd gone through without the love and support of her family and friends. "No one would ever be stupid enough to call you weak, Beautiful," I said. "Bobby just mean that the story of your Bombshell title probably isn't the best introductory conversation."

"So Bobby and Lester?" she asked, coming to a stop on the final stair, which left her at eye level with us, as she indicated to each of us in turn. She nodded shortly, like she'd come to some conclusion. "Something tells me it's no coincidence that you came across me in this stairwell."

"It is the only stairwell the building has," I pointed out, unfazed at being caught.

Bobby shrugged. "We do live and work in this building," he added. "And most of the men do tend to use the stairs more often than the elevator. You were bound to come across someone if you continued your descent. Why shouldn't it be us?"

She narrowed her eyes at us, and God, even that suspicious expression on her face was like a breath of fresh air. "How did you know I was in the stairwell?" she asked.

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. The old Stephanie, the one who had all her memories, wouldn't have had to ask such a question. She had enough experience with how Rangeman worked to realise that there were very few moments when we were unable to pinpoint her exact location. Within the building, there were monitored security cameras covering practically every inch. Outside of the building, Ranger had had always ensured, even from the earliest days, to plant trackers on her and her vehicles. Clearly, there were flaws in the system. Otherwise she wouldn't have been able to disappear without a trace two years ago, but now that we had her back, Ranger would already have taken steps to make sure she never disappeared again.

"What" Steph demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "What's so funny?"

"Do you know where you are?" I asked, rather than give a straight answer.

Steph scrunched up her face. "Trenton," she said. "I have long term memory loss, I'm not an idiot."

I shook my head. "I meant a little more specific than that," I said. "Do you know what building you're in?"

Still scowling at me, she replied, "Rangeman. It's a security company that Ranger owns."

"Correct," I nodded, smiling despite her still sour expression. I tried to recall if she was this hostile towards me when we first met, but I'm pretty sure she was more doe-eyed back then, staring with wide eyes and slack jaw at all the fire power and muscles. She was a disillusioned girl from the Burg and we were so far beyond the ideals that had been forced into her head her entire life. Now, though, she may not have those memories of her life, but from what I'd seen of her in this short interaction so far she was still the tough cookie we'd helped shape her into. Only time would tell if she was more or less trusting than before. Speaking of which, I asked, "As a security company, don't you think we would keep our own building under surveillance?"

Her shoulders slumped a little. "You saw me on the cameras?"

"No, actually," Bobby interjected, probably taking over our half of the conversation so that I couldn't inspire any more ire from this familiar stranger. It was a smart move. I'd already proven that I'm quite good at sticking my foot in it. Bobby, on the other hand, had a way of making people feel more at ease in his presence, no matter what he was saying to them. This was evidenced by the fact that he was the only one, apart from Ranger, who had ever successfully convinced Steph to go to the hospital. "We were in our apartment cooking dinner and received a call from the control room informing us that you were prowling about."

Sometimes, when Steph was caught snooping in the past, she would blush and stammer out some excuse or apology, but not today. Instead she lifted her chin, shrugged, and stepped off the bottom stair. "Was I not supposed to?" she asked. "Is there something in the building that you're afraid I'll find?"

"Of course not," Bobby and I chimed in automatic unison.

There was nothing for us to hide. Somewhere inside her head, she already knew way more secrets about this place than any other woman alive. She had a way of sticking her nose in people's business and disarming their defences. She would have been great at interrogations with a little training. And maybe she still could be. Even if she didn't regain her memories, this version of Steph seemed forward enough to catch people off guard.

She travelled her gaze from me to Bobby slowly, head tilted up slightly now that we were all on level ground. "You're very quick to deny," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest. "In my experienced, that kind of speed usually means you're lying, or hiding something."

"Would you like a tour?" I offered, spreading my arms out to the side in an attempt to prove we weren't being deceitful.

"Of the stairwell?" she scoffed. "No thanks. If you've seen one stairwell, you've seen them all. Take me to this control room you mentioned."

I glanced to Bobby, who didn't even bother returning the look. He just shrugged, pulled out his phone and stepped toward the door that would lead on to the fifth floor. "Sure," he said easily. "Why not? Let me just text Ranger to let him know what we're doing."

Interestingly, Steph's eyes widened slightly as she jerked her head towards Bobby's new position. "Why?" she demanded.

Bobby turned back slowly, alerted, as I was, by the change in her tone and overall demeanour. She'd been cool, calm and collected before, but now she sounded a touch concerned. "Well, I assume he expected you would remain in his apartment at least until he got back from the job," Bobby said cautiously, aware that one misplaced word could send her running in this state. "He'll want to know if you're wandering about."

"He trusts me," she said, almost defiantly.

"That's true," I agreed easily. "But he's also worried about you. He's always looked out for your best interests, but from what I can tell, your current condition has him at a loss for what he can do to help you."

Bobby nodded. "Not being able to find you when you disappeared and then finally locating you only to find out that you're-"

"Damaged?" she interrupted.

I gave her a look. "Come on, beautiful, you know that's not what we mean."

Bobby, who had finished typing out a text to Ranger, but not yet his send, held it out for Steph to read over. "I'm just letting him know that you're out and about," he reiterated. "And if you're still concerned that we're doing anything untoward, you can call him. He's on a job, but I'm sure he's set your number to a specialised ringtone by now. He'll answer if he's not getting shot at, which he shouldn't be."

"He'll probably answer even if he is getting shot at," I pointed out. Because let's be honest, anger was a lot less cautious with his own life when Steph was in need. Hence, how Steph came to discover the Rangeman building.

Grimacing, Steph reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone, dialling Ranger. Our theory was proven correct when she started speaking after what could only have been one or two rings. "I'm fine," she replied to his answering question. "I just wanted to let you know that Bobby and Lester are taking me on a tour of the building." She paused a moment, then spoke again. "You never said I had to stay in the apartment, and I got bored, so I went for a walk." A smile played on her lips as she glanced toward Bobby and me again. "Apparently, the control room called them when they saw me on the security feed." Another pause. "I'll be fine. How scary could it be when I've survived two whole years without a single memory from before?" And then she hung up, looking between us expectantly. "Well?" she prompted impatiently. "Let's go."

*o*

I have no idea how Steph felt as we guided her through the command centre, but it was surreal for me. Everywhere I looked there were familiar things that held memories I shared with the woman beside me. Some small, like the little finger wave she would five to the men on the monitors whenever she stepped off the elevator, or the paper airplane notes she'd once tried to send me when she'd sprained her ankle and Bobby wouldn't let her leave her desk until he had a chance to look at it but was constantly being called away from the building. The planes never made it to me. They ended up on the floor a metre away from where I'd sat watching the security feeds. Some memories were bigger, like the Nerf war she'd instigated during a snow storm when we were all on lock down and going stir crazy. Or the time she passed out just after stepping out of the stairwell and freaked everyone out.

The first step was, logically, the bank of monitors. We paused just to the side so that Steph could see that there were split screens showing a variety of buildings that Rangeman provided security for, including its own. "This is Cal," I introduced, slapping my hand on the man's shoulder. "He's smarter than he looks."

"Hey!" Cal protested, but Jenning's snickered.

"Cal," I added, before he had more of a chance to argue. "You know Stephanie Plum."

"Of course," he said, his frown turning into a rare smile as he turned to face us. "Who could forget the great Stephanie Plum?"

Steph shrugged, seemingly at ease with this situation. "Well, I forgot all of you," she stated. "So it's not entirely out of the question."

Eventually, after greeting everyone still on shift on the fourth floor, we ended up in the break room, Bobby and I stood by the door, watching as Steph examined the wall of photos she'd been instrumental in erecting four years ago. At first, she was just browsing, as one would the tasting menu at a restaurant, but then she was picking out faces she'd met on the way there. Cal, and Bones, along with Bobby and myself. Even Jennings made it into a couple of the newer ones around the edges.

"Who's this?" she asked, pointing to one of the central photos and leaning in closer to examine it. "He feels… familiar…"

Bobby snorted. "He should," he said, stepping up beside her. "When you first stared skip tracing and were getting yourself into trouble, Hal was assigned to you on what you referred to not-so- affectionately as baby-sitting detail.

We may have met you first," I added, coming up on her other side and pointing to the selfie I'd taken that night of myself, Bobby, Tank and Ranger armed to the teeth with a doe-eyed Steph looking like her brain was in the middle of fight or flight decision. "But he got to know you better – quicker – through sheer number of encounters."

"It's quite unfair, to be honest," Bobby said.

"Which is part of the reason we're determined to get to know you first this time around," I added, pointing to a photo of us all from a raucous movie night. "That's at least one silver lining to you having amnesia."

Thankfully, this caused Steph to laugh. That proved that she had a sense of humour about her condition, which meant our Steph – the one with all her memories of us all – was still in there somewhere. We just had to find her hiding place and coax her out, maybe pick a lock or two to free her.

"Will you tell me about these guys?" she requested, waving a hand at the world as she turned to eye us both in turn, hope and apprehension clear in her gaze.

"Will you tell us about how you came to lose you memories?" Bobby countered.

She frowned. "Ranger said he told Tank and that Tank would fill you all in," she said.

"The term," I explained, crossing my arms over my chest, "Is 'brief'. Ranger told Tank to 'brief' us. And he did. It was very brief."

"Less than fifty words, to be exact," Bobby added bitterly.

"More of a warning than a relaying of information."

Her frown deepened, "How much do you know, then?"

Bobby shrugged, examining the photos for himself, probably in an attempt to not get frustrated. Given the medical nature of this particular mystery, it was probably eating at him. He'd always been there whenever Steph needed him – hell, we all had – but if she'd experienced something, an injury or traumatic event, that caused her to lose her memories and we weren't there to help, he was probably dying a little on the inside. He took his job very seriously. "Just that you have no memory before two years ago, and that if we pull any funny business we'll be pummelled in the gym tomorrow."

The sound that escaped Steph could only be described as a horrified hiss. And while I'm can't guarantee that the old Steph wouldn't be horrified at the idea of any of us being physically beaten for our antics, the fact that she was so horrified by the idea proved that she didn't remember how things worked around here.

"Don't worry," I said, flippantly. "That's a usual punishment. Most people would call it intense sparring. It works for us because it lets both parties get to work their frustrations out physically."

"Anyway," Bobby took over, and I could hear that he was slightly calmer now, having had a moment to tamp down his own frustrations with the situation. "Ranger said he'd explain the full situation at the morning meeting tomorrow."

"Will you be joining us for that meeting?" I asked.

Steph screwed up her face and shrugged. "This is the first I'm hearing of a meeting," she explained. "I guess Ranger doesn't want me there."

"That's bullshit," I said before I could stamp down the impulse. If Ranger was planning on hiding Steph away in his tower for the duration of her time in Trenton, then what was the point of bringing her back in the first place? His selfishness wold not be tolerated. We'd all been devastated when we couldn't find her. We'd all deserved to have the opportunity to interact with her and gain some kind of closure. "The meetings going to be predominantly about you," I pointed out. "Excluding you would be stupid. No one else knows your situation as well as you do. Not even Ranger. Just because he's –"

"How long has he, uh, been in contact with you?" Bobby asked, interrupting my rant. It was probably a good thing he did, because my comments would probably have turned less than flattering had I been allowed to continue.

"About six weeks?" Steph replied. "He saw me when I was on my way to work one day, and asked me out. I figured out pretty fast that he knew me, he offered to tell me about my past, and he has. He's been helping me study up."

I almost gagged. "Studying?" I said. "Gross. Nothing beats practical knowledge. Unless he's going to make you pass some written test." My eyes widened. "He's not gonna make you prove your theoretical knowledge before you're allowed to visit anyone, is he?"

She laughed, and once again, my heart melted. She was most beautiful when she laughed. Don't get me wrong, there were very few situations where I didn't consider her as beautiful, but laughter seemed to enhance her natural features. Her laugh made everything around her seem dull. "If I have to pass a test before meeting anyone else, I think I may as well go back to Miami right now. The information doesn't really stick. I can do names, and maybe relationships of a few, but anything else is a jumble of useless information in my head."

"What about Merry Men?" Bobby asked.

"You mean, like, Robin Hood's bandits?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Why would I need to know their names? Do they even have names?"

He shook his head. "The Merry Men is what you called everyone who works for Rangeman who isn't Ranger," he explained. "All these guys," he added, gesturing to the wall of photos in front of us.

Steph sagged, her shoulders slumping and a crease forming between her brows. It was the saddest I'd seen her since her return, which wasn't saying much, since she'd only returned about an hour and a half ago, but it still pulled my heartstrings. I'd never been able to sit back and let herwallow. I had to do something to help her.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards me for a sideways hug, performing a small, mental victory dance when she didn't pull away or protest in any way.

"How do you become the person you've forgotten you ever were?" she asked, and if I wasn't mistaken, she was on the verge of tears. We needed to take evasive action. We were sensitive guys and had learned the best way to deal with Steph's tears over the years, but the best way was to avoid the inevitability.

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked.

She sighed. "I mean, this Stephanie Plum person that I supposedly am sounds great, and you guys obviously liked her, but I don't know how to be her. I've spent the last two years being Jane Smith and-"

"How original?" I deadpanned.

Her fist connected with my side, hard, but I made an effort not to show any reaction. "I know," she said, sounding resigned. "But it's who I know how to be. Jane Smith doesn't have to live up to anyone's expectations, because Jane Smith doesn't have a past. She has one roommate, a few work colleagues, and some doctors. That's it. Stephanie Plum, though, has a whole life that I don't really know about. Stephanie Plum is a mystery."

"Then let's de-mystify her a little," I suggested, dragging her over to the couch and pushing her down into it. "Tank a deep breath," I said. "Close your eyes and imagine another time, another world."

She did as I instructed, relaxing back into the cushions and tipping her head back. This was a good sign. It meant she was starting to trust us more, but knowing Steph, if we were quiet for more than a couple of moments, she'd likely fall asleep. We had to act fast.

"You were born in the Burg," I began.

"The Burg?" she questioned, cracking open one eye to look at me. "What's that?"

Seriously, Ranger?I thought. You didn't cover things like the Burg in your secret little study sessions?

"Chambersburg," Bobby elaborated. "A tight-knit neighbourhood about fifteen minutes away."

"You went to etiquette classes when you were young," I went on.

She snorted, eyes closed again. "Etiquette classes?" she said incredulously. "Me?"

"It was your mother's doing," Bobby explained. "A way to try to tame you."

Her eyebrows rose, eyes snapping open once more, and I used that as an opportunity to continue on a slightly different path. She didn't need to know what she'd done, or what her mother had made her do. She needed to know what she was like.

"You threw tantrums and terrorised your mother," I said.

"Legend has it that the whole neighbourhood shook when you and your mother fought," Bobby added, and I could have sworn the slight change in his expression was pride showing through.

"Charming child," I smiled, perching on the edge of the of the coffee table.

Bobby sat next to Steph on the couch. "Wrote the book," I said nonchalantly. "But you'd behave when your father gave that look." He turned to me, imitating the look every protective father has given his favourite daughter. "You know the one?"

I returned the look, but was unable to hold it. It felt ridiculous. I was definitely not father material. "You do it better than me," I pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "You don't have a secret kid you haven't told me about, do you?"

Bobby laughed, shaking his head, but turned his attention back towards Steph. "Little does he know that he is the child I need to keep in check," he said in a stage whisper.

"Your secret is safe with me," Steph said, nodding solemnly, a twinkle in her eye.

"Right," I burst, standing abruptly, energy surging through me. "We have a lot to cover and not much time." They both looked at me like I was insane, which was probably not far off, but until the head-shrinkers made an official diagnosis to that end, I was inclined to ignore them. "Okay," I conceded. "So we have some time. I'm just excited, okay? So sue me."

Bobby shook his head and gave Steph a meaningful look. "See what I mean?"

"Come one," I said, ignoring them both. "Let's see you walk." Pulling Steph to her feet, I set her upright next to the wall and squeezed her shoulders. "Head up," I instructed. "Regal bearing."

"Regal?" Bobby snorted.

"Hush," I snapped. "I'd like to see you instruct someone how to adjust their gait."

"Is this really necessary?" Steph asked.

"You wanted our help learning how to be Stephanie Plum," I pointed out. "It's more than just knowing people. Now shoulders back, stand up tall and don't walk-"

"You want her to walk, but not walk?" Bobby questioned. "How is she supposed to do that?"

"Try to float," I said, giving them an example.

Steph attempted to imitate my walk, but she must not have gotten all the key points I'd given her. "I feel a little foolish," she said. "Am I floating? Is this what floating looks like?"

"More like a sinking boat," Bobby deadpanned. "She walks fine, Lester. You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

"If I can learn to do it, so can she," I argued.

"I don't think I need to learn how to walk right now," Steph said slowly. "I've had enough lessons to last a lifetime."

Bobby gave me the same look he'd given me just before when we were talking about Steph's Dad and like a good daughter knows when to stop fighting and start following directions, I gave a slight nod, agreeing to let the walk go for now. It's not my fault I liked watching the way her hair bobbed and hips swayed when she walked.

"Let's see what you know, then," Bobby suggested, making his way over to the kitchenette where he retrieved three banana muffins, tossing one to each of us. "Who's your mother?"

"Helen Plum," she recited.

"Your grandmother?" I asked.

"Uhhhh, Edna Mazur!"

"Your best friend?"

She looked between us, her brows shuffling closer together, as if trying to discuss their answer before her mouth made a move. "Mary-Lou," she said confidently.

"Wrong," I announced, making a buzzer sound. "It's actually me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know who my best friend is."

"Okay," I said slowly, dragging her back over to the photo wall. "You seem to have a grasp on your personal life, but I don't know why Ranger would leave something as vital as us out of your six weeks of study."

She shrugged. "We touched on it briefly, but I think he thought it was more important to remember my family."

"Right," I stated. "Well, let's get started on Essential Rangeman Employees 101." I took a moment to scan the wall, looking for the right faces to point out. She knew all of them in the past, but there were some that she was closer to than others. "Okay, here's Hank. He's one of our tech guys. You and he were once chased by swans at the park while trailing a skip."

"Cover blown," Bobby intoned.

"Oh," Steph breathed.

"This is Rodriguez," Bobby went on, pointing to another photo. "Loves his vodka. He once challenged Ghost to drink for drink with him and held up pretty well until Ghost insisted on a glass of champagne."

"Got it?" I asked, gauging her reaction to the information. She looked a little bug eyed.

"No…" she replied. "I… this is not the kind of information Ranger was giving me…"

I nodded. "Probably because he didn't want to scare you off."

"Huh."

Bobby seemed unfazed by how she was taking I all, but then again he was the master of stealth and multitasking. He could be having a full on conversation with one person, while listening in on another conversation. Never missing a beat. And he could recite whole statements from both conversations word for word. He was a freak of nature, but it came in hand. Probably, he would tell me a bunch of insights about Steph's mental health state later, for now though, he was prepared to keep telling her about our colleagues.

"Hector here is the shortest man we've got," he explained, gesturing to a photo of the tech genius standing on a table. "Shorter than you."

I found another photo, one with Binkie front and centre. "Binkie has a wart on his neck that looks like a grumpy old man."

"Zero wore a hat entirely made out of feathers for a whole week to prove that no one ever notices him."

"Did they?" Steph asked.

"No," I confirmed. "No one noticed the hat. They did however asked if he'd put on weight."

"Here's Tank," Bobby said, switching topics again.

"Oh!" she cried. "He has a yellow cat!"

"I didn't tell her that," I said, holding up my hands in surrender as Bobby's eyes cut to me, brows raised.

"Neither did I," Bobby said. "Did Ranger?"

Steph shook her head. "No, I just had a feeling." She looked between us, then back to the photo. "Does he have a yellow cat?"

"The yellow cat is named Romeo," I said, still marvelling over the fact that she'd apparently managed to recall something. Small though the detail may be, progress was still progress. "And it took a real liking to your when you cat-sat for Tank one time. Tank still refers to him as a traitor for liking you so much."

"Romeo doesn't like anyone," Bobby added. "Barely tolerates Tank."

Steph blew out a stunned breath. "That's two things I've remembered in one day," she said. "I've been in New Jersey less than four hours and I've already remembered more details from my life than I have in the past two years."

"Two memories?" Bobby questioned.

"Yeah, in the car on the way from the airport, Ranger was telling me about this parade and a girl on a float when he was a kid. I realised that he was talking about me. I remembered the parade, and then I kinda got flashes of other events involving Ranger, like meeting at a café, him finding me locked in a cabinet, crying on his shoulder at a funeral, and um… kissing. A lot of kissing, actually. Like, a disproportionate amount of kissing."

"Well, that makes sense," I said. "You and Ranger did a hell of a lot of sneaking away to make out."

"Really?"

I nodded in answer, unsure if I'd said too much already, and unwilling to cause her to leave prematurely.

"Were we… a couple?" she asked hesitantly.

Bobby fielded that question before I had a chance to open my mouth and sprout a bunch of innuendos by accident and scare her off. We hadn't quite secured her renewed friendship yet, and until such a time as she confirmed her willingness to stick around, we had to convince her – again – that we weren't a threat to her safety or sanity. "Things between you and Ranger were complicated to say the least," Bobby explained. "But no one can deny the attraction between you both."

"That wasn't a yes or no," she pointed out, crossing her arms and frowning at him. "You didn't answer my question."

"There's only one person who can answer that question correctly," he said.

"Well, maybe two," I added. "But with your memory the way it is…"

"Do you know when Ranger will be back?"

I shrugged, resuming my position on the coffee table. "Hard to say. It all depends on the client."

"The client was easily dealt with once he realised I wasn't going to cop the blame for his mistakes," Ranger's voice announced from the doorway, causing all of us – not just Steph – to jump clear out of our skins. "What nonsense are these two idiots filling your head with?"

"Ranger!" Steph exclaimed, seeming unconcerned by the fact that he'd just insulted her two newest friends. "Come see what I've learned!" And without waiting to see if he obeyed, she turned back to photo wall, scanning it once again. "Bobby and Lester have been teaching me about the, what do I call them? Merry Men?" She glanced over to catch my nod of confirmation, checked that Ranger had approached the wall; Tank following close behind, and just started rattling off information, like when she was explaining an intricate gossip web that would supposedly help our case, gesturing to each relevant photo in turn. "The swan that chased, the vodka race, the champagne cap, the feathered hat, the tech guy's short, the neck, a wart, they yellow cat named Romeo."

"Ha!" The sound burst out of me before I had a chance to acknowledge the pride that had welled with every piece of information she threw out there.

"Impressive," Ranger nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to her side.

"I see you told her about the feline traitor," Tank intoned, sounding slightly dangerous.

I help up my hands grinning as I attempted a surrender. "She brought it up, man," I said. "We pointed out your photo and she suddenly proclaimed that you had a yellow cat."

"So you remembered Tank's cat, but not Tank?" Ranger asked Steph.

"Baby steps, right?" she asked, wincing apologetically at Tank. "I'd like to see Romeo some time?"

"I'm sure you would," Tank said, sending her a small smile of reassurance. "And Romeo would be over the moon. He's been insufferable."

"The cat visits will have to wait for another time, though," Ranger said. "Since Steph is so keen on integrating herself back into Rangeman I brought the meeting forward. Conference Two in twenty minutes."

Because of being away last weekend, and this coming weekend, I probably won't be getting a chapter of Over Your Head out this week. I haven't written it yet. I will endeavour to write between performances at the eisteddfod this weekend, though. Everyone have a great Easter.