My muse was side tracked; I couldn't help but think Ranger had a hand in recent events.

Thanks to Rach and Tiff for all their help.

Current Events

It had been different this time when he left. He'd caught me at the Bond's Office and dragged me out to the alley to kiss me senseless, that part was the same. But normally by the time I'd regained consciousness he was gone with no more than a, "Later Babe." This time, I'd fully regained the ability to breathe and was standing on my own two feet with Ranger still solidly in front of me.

"I'm gonna be out of the country for a little while. If you need help, call the office and they'll send someone." He cupped my cheek, in a way that was somehow more intimate than the kiss we'd just shared.

I smiled at him and patted my giant purse, "I have Tank's number, no worries Batman."

His head moved ever so slightly to the right and then left again, subtly conveying no. If I hadn't known him so well I would have missed it. "Tank's coming with me. Bobby and Lester too." He paused for a moment, "Call Hal or Binkie."

This was strange. While I knew Ranger left the country to do God knows what for the military, it was usually a solo act. What the hell was he going up against that he needed an entourage? It made me a little nervous, so I did what I normally do, I joked. "What's the matter? Off to save the world again? Need to bring the whole Justice League this time?" He gave me an odd smile, like he knew something I didn't. Well he always knew lots of things I didn't, but the strange thing was this time I preferred to leave it that way. The man walked around like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe it was with good reason.

He tucked a curl behind my ear before kissing me again, softly this time. "Be good," he whispered into my hair, and then turned to leave. Before he could get away, impulsively I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back to me. This time I kissed him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him to me hard. The kiss was urgent and needy; I was determined to show him what he meant to me before he left. I knew I wouldn't be able to get the words out and more than that, he didn't want to hear them.

Finally he pulled back from the kiss, but kept his body pressed against mine for a beat. My face was tucked into the crook of his neck. I inhaled deeply before pressing a kiss against his skin. "Thanks." I whispered against his skin. What I meant was thanks for saving my life a million times over, thanks for doing what you do and keeping us all safe, but mostly thanks for being Batman, my Dark Knight.

I always felt a little off when he was gone, but I kept busy all week, bringing in my skips. Most of them were regulars and easy ones at that, Eula, Dougie and Mooner. I didn't have to call Rangeman for help, but I did run into Cal and Binkie at the station. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if they'd heard from the guys, but knew it was pointless; even if they had, they wouldn't be able to tell me about it. Before I knew it the work week had flown by.

Saturday night was date night, well as close to date night as I got. Joe stopped over after work with Pino's and beer so we could watch the hockey playoffs. We'd been snuggled up on the couch watching Boston cream Philadelphia. As the game stagnated Joe became less interested in the tv and more interested in looking down my shirt. Normally his magic hands had me breathing heavily and ready to chuck the game completely, but tonight I was distracted and uneasy. I stared at the screen, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Something wasn't right. Ranger. The initial sadness and worry about him leaving had passed, until tonight. It was back but different, more urgent. Wherever he was, he was in the middle of some serious shit.

Mentally I scolded myself. Joe was touching me. I shouldn't be thinking about another man. Every time Joe touched me, kissed me, made love to me I made a conscious effort to block out the memories, the comparisons, the fantasies, and focus on the man in front of me. How does the song go? If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with. I couldn't be with Ranger. He didn't do relationships and I couldn't do casual sex, not with him, I thought wryly as I fought off another one of Joe's advances.

But this was different. I wasn't thinking about how it felt when Ranger touched me, how he moved inside of me, how right it felt that night sleeping in his arms. No, I had a feeling, a bad one. I was tense. Something was going on with Ranger, something bad.

When the game mercifully ended Joe clicked the TV off and tossed the remote to the floor. He gave me a sexy grin before he leaned into me, pushing me back into the arm of the couch and covering my body with his. His lips were warm and soft as he kissed my neck as his hands roamed. I tried to let go of my worry, lose myself in his touch, but I couldn't. Pushing him off me I scrambled out from underneath him. "I'm sorry Joe. I can't do this, not tonight." I crossed my arms over myself, trying to find some comfort.

He looked confused, "What's the matter Cupcake? I thought with your new pills you didn't have that time of the month anymore?" Ugh. Men.

"No Joe," I huffed, "It's not that. I just, I can't. I'm not in the mood." I suddenly became fascinated with my new toenail polish; I couldn't tell him what was wrong. He never believed in what the Merry Men called my spidey sense. Plus any association I had with Ranger upset him. If I told him how deeply the connection ran, his response would not be pretty.

Joe's head was in his hands, "It's him Steph, isn't it?"

I looked up at him, surprised.

He leveled his gaze on me, "Come on Cupcake, you haven't been yourself all week. Not since he left." His jaw was set, but he hadn't raised his voice.

I felt like I owed him an explanation, "I'm sorry Joe, I just can't shake this feeling. Something's wrong. He's in danger."

His arms flew out as his temper flared, "Of course he's in danger! He's always in danger. He's a mercenary for chrissake!" Blowing out a calming breath he picked up the empty pizza box and beer bottles and headed into the kitchen. I followed him, feeling guilty as usual. He smashed the box into the garbage can and the bottles followed. Turning to me he sighed, "This isn't going to work Steph. I can't compete with him." He raised his arms again, but quickly dropped them to his sides in defeat, "I won't. I shouldn't have to. Hell he's not even in the country and I still don't have your full attention." He shook his head in disbelief.

I wanted to argue with him, tell him he was wrong, but he wasn't. I wanted to tell him we could be happy together, but I wasn't in the mood to lie to either of us. "I'm sorry Joe." I said in a voice just above a whisper.

"Me too Cupcake, me too." He placed a kiss on my forehead and then he was gone. The fact that it ended with more of a whimper than a bang told me it was really over between us.

Not bothering with my normal bedtime ritual I crawled into bed. I slept fitfully, knowing I should be mourning Joe, but all my attention was focused on Ranger. I wanted to call him, but knew it would go to voicemail. Even the brief, "Yo!" on his voicemail would have been comforting. Finally sleep came for me in the wee hours of the morning, and I gave in if out of nothing but sheer exhaustion. By the time I awoke in the late morning the tightness in my chest had eased considerably.

I spent the day puttering around my apartment, cleaning, straightening, organizing, anything to keep my hands and more importantly my mind occupied. I even begged off going to my parents' house for dinner, knowing full well my mother already knew about Morelli. It was obvious in her voice. But I needed to be alone. I was barely decent company for Rex.

Running out of things to tidy, I finally settled myself on the couch and popped in Ghostbusters. The lack of sleep, combined with the state of my nerves caught up with me and I was out before you could say, Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

When I awoke again it was dark, the movie was over and the blue screen from the tv cast an eerie glow around the room. Switching off the dvd, I started flipping channels to find some mindless drivel to keep me company knowing with my late nap it would be hours before I could sleep again. But nearly every channel featured a well coiffed news anchor all a twitter about a special report. It seemed that the President was going to address the nation, something unprecedented for so late on a Sunday night. Primetime had come and gone. My curiosity was piqued - not like it took much - but maybe it would keep my mind off Ranger.

I flipped between several broadcasts as they counted down the minutes to the President's address. They all patted themselves on the back for refusing to speculate about what the President would be speaking about. Of course it didn't stop them from guessing at all the things it could be. Obviously their definition of speculating was different than mine.

Time for the President's address came and went as he postponed it nearly an hour. It would be nearly 11:30 by the time his address would start. It must be big. The excitement must have become too much for one of the reporters because he just popped. The man stood in a darkened street in some Middle Eastern city reporting that it was his belief that the President would be soon announcing the death of Osama Bin Laden. So much for not speculating.

It was nearly instantaneous. As soon as the words were out of the man's mouth I knew. It was him, them. Ranger, Tank, Bobby and Lester. I knew it without a doubt. How, I don't know, but I'd swear to it. I sat dazed, watching the reports, only catching bits and pieces. Coming out of my trance I was able to piece it together. Their compound had been raided in the early morning hours, the raid lasting only 40 minutes, but all insurgents were dead, Bin Laden fatally shot in the head. No Americans were harmed. The words echoed around the interior of my brain. No Americans were harmed. No Americans were harmed.

I couldn't draw myself away from the television, hoping for a bit more reassurance. What was I expecting? That Ranger would give an interview? That I might see Lester standing in the background waving or trying to give the reporter bunny ears? The thought made me laugh and once I got started, I couldn't stop. I was hysterical, sobbing, laughing, and crying. When I couldn't take anymore I shut off the television, having had enough, and poured myself into bed. Exhausted by my crying jag I slept, but disturbing dreams woke me throughout the night.

I forced myself to go about my normal Monday, but it was everywhere, all day. There was no escaping it. In every store, gas station and place of business I went to today, the 24 hour news coverage was on. God forbid anyone miss a minute. I even had a skip ask if I could come back tomorrow so he didn't have to miss anything. Who knew felons could be so patriotic? The local radio station was playing patriotic music. It was too much, I was on overload. I couldn't let myself think about it too much. No, not it, them, him.

Connie and Lula talked about it the whole time I was in the Bond's Office. At least it kept them occupied and off my case. I knew I looked like hell, but I hadn't slept well and I didn't really want to discuss it with them. I knew I'd have to tell them about Joe sooner or later and later was always good. Luckily the normal burg rumor mill was slowed by the international news. Who knew? I'd have to remember that for the next time I blew up a car. Maybe Ranger could pull some strings and cause an international incident. I choked back the hysterical sob that threatened to escape at the thought of him.

"Bout time they got that motherfucker." Lula commented around her jelly doughnut. She nodded towards the terribly unflattering photo of Osama Bin Laden on the front page of the newspaper. CNN was streaming from Connie's computer and they had three different newspapers scattered on the desks.

Connie nodded as she returned to her manicure, "The mob would have taken care of him years ago." The two of them went back and forth discussing who could have done a better job hunting down the world's most wanted man, the mob or gang bangers. I just added "yeah's" where ever seemed appropriate, trying to push down the nagging feeling in my gut. Here was not the place. I couldn't share my feelings with these two. Really, there wasn't anyone I could share them with. I was struggling with my emotions, worry for Ranger and his team and yet profound pride in their work, for their willingness to do what others can't or won't.

My phone beeped all day with Facebook updates, everyone adding in their two cents. Finally I just shut it off. It wasn't that I didn't share the relief that the man was dead, but I felt like I knew something they didn't, the human cost of this kind of war. For most of them it was an ending, justice served. I could understand that. But for me it wasn't over and it wouldn't be, not until they were home safe.

Feeling the need to hide out from reality I went to my parent's house to mooch a late lunch. I learned the fine art of denial from my mother, and for once I welcomed the alternate universe that existed inside the Plum house, where all that mattered was that the pot roast was on the dinner table at 6:00. Well, that and what the neighbors thought of you of course. At least there the only topic of conversation would be when was I getting back together with Joe and even that would be a welcome change.

Apparently my Mom's burg radar was taking the day off. It was my niece Mary Alice who answered the door in her jammies. "Grandma's in the kitchen," she shared before padding into the living room and lying back down on the couch.

"You home sick?" I asked the obvious, covering her up with a blanket. She gave me a sickly smile as I brushed the familiar curly brown hair from her face.

"Yeah," she grumbled, "And it stinks. Mom had to work and I can't even watch tv. Osama Bin Laden is dead and it's on every channel." Poor kid. Stupid terrorist. I scooted her over and put her head in my lap. I smoothed her hair back from her face while she rested.

My Mom didn't disappoint. When she found me later reading to Mary Alice there was no mention of world events. She simply bemoaned the fact that she'd better enjoy Val's kids as much as she could; it was obvious I'd never give her grandchildren. I let her pick at me all afternoon, grateful for the numbness. I suffered through a chaotic family dinner before finally slinking back to my apartment.

Stripping down, I headed to the bathroom and turned the shower to just this side of scalding and climbed in. I stood under the water, trying to wash away the nagging feelings that were haunting me. They said no one was hurt. And you don't even know for a fact it was them. But deep down, I did. I was just being silly, overreacting, I told myself. I let out a chuckle, figuring that Lula's years of speculating about Ranger overthrowing third world dictators had finally caught up with me. I was going nuts, letting my imagination run away with me. Probably everything was fine.

Finally tired of trying to convince myself I stepped out of the shower, quickly toweling off before slipping into one of Ranger's t-shirts and a pair of my black Rangeman panties. I needed to feel close to him; maybe it would calm my nerves. I even gave in and pulled the neckline of the shirt over my nose and allowed myself to breathe in his scent that lingered in the soft cotton of the t-shirt. It gave me more comfort than I liked to admit.

I made a beeline for the kitchen to consult my two confidants, Ben and Jerry. Chunky Monkey in hand, I indulged. I sat on the couch for the second night in a row absorbing as much information as I could. I immersed myself in the coverage, watching for any sign; any hint he was really okay. I didn't really know what I was hoping for, but it was reassuring somehow every time they repeated that none of our troops had been injured. I could hear it over and over again, but what I really wanted was to be able to see it myself. Feeling a little more at peace I finally went to bed sometime after midnight.

When I came awake it was still dark, but I knew at once I wasn't alone. The only light in the room came from the street lamp through my cheap curtains. I could just barely make out his outline as he stood in my doorway, watching over me, like some sort of dark angel. I quickly threw off the covers and crossed the room, coming to a stop directly in front of him.

It was him, still him, the same solid dark presence, now with several days of stubble on his face, making him look darker, more dangerous. Looking into his eyes I saw how tired he was, but I saw something else too. I was right. I raised my hand to cup his rough cheek, "It was you." I said quietly. His eyes widened briefly in shock before they focused back on me. For once I could read him, he was letting me in. His eyes begged me not to ask, not to push it.

In answer I brought my other hand up and placed it on the opposite cheek. Raising myself up on my tippy toes I brought my lips to his. His lips were so soft, such a sharp contrast to the hardness of his body and the roughness of his whiskers. Momentarily stunned, he let me kiss him, let me have control. But soon soft and gentle wasn't enough. My hands migrated into his hair and I pulled him to me, slipping my tongue into his mouth, seeking, needing more of him.

His body responded to mine with equal fervor. His hands which had been clenched at his side traveled over my body to my backside, crushing me to him. His mouth devoured mine, the kiss and his hands demanding more from me and I was all too willing to give it to him. I started back towards the bed, pulling him with me, but he stopped. His voice was hoarse when he said, "Steph, wait…stop." I didn't stop, I just moved my lips to his neck and pulled him by the belt loops towards the bed. He groaned as I fastened my lips to his neck and sucked hard.

He tried again, "Steph, you don't want to do this." Oh no he didn't. Did the man not know me at all? If there was one thing I hated it was someone telling me what I wanted or needed. I was a big girl, I could decide those things for myself.

"Oh yes I do." I told him as I worked his t-shirt out of his cargos and pulled it up over his head. He seemed to be stunned by my aggressiveness, which I used to my full advantage. I pushed him back on the bed before reaching for the hem of my own t-shirt and pulled it off. Okay, it was his t-shirt too, but I was wearing it. I dropped to my knees and unlaced his boots, covered with sand and god knows what else. Slipping them off and then his socks, I reached for his belt buckle, but his hands wrapped around my wrists, halting my progress.

"Don't do this Steph, you don't need to do this. You don't owe me anything."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Is that what you think this is about? This is what? A thank you? You think this is me doing my patriotic duty?" I tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let me. Instead he pulled me up onto his lap, crushing me to him. His heart was beating wildly. For a brief moment the sensible part of me thought it might not be the best idea to provoke a fight with a soldier less than 48 hours after combat.

He must have realized how tightly he was holding me and loosened his grip slightly. When he spoke again his voice was still rough, "I don't need this, I'm not some young soldier with a post-battle hard on. If that was the case I could have gone to the bar with the other guys." I tensed at his words. Our one night together had been a long time ago. Since then I'd been with Joe off and on, I was no nun. But the thought of Ranger picking up some woman in a bar was not a pleasant one.

His voice was softer, "That's not why I came here."

"Why did you come here?" His hands started rubbing up and down my back in a silent apology.

He struggled to answer. And then I realized that he didn't really know. Finally he said, "I came to see you. I needed to see you."

"Why?" I persisted.

I could feel him shake his head, "I don't know. Comfort, absolution, peace? I needed to be somewhere I didn't need to pretend."

I pulled back so I could look at him, "So why are you pushing me away?"

He looked me in the eye, "I didn't come here to sleep with you, well maybe sleep, but not to have sex with you." Something changed in his eyes and he looked away. "Babe, I know Morelli was in the Navy, but I don't think he'd appreciate you supporting the troops this way."

I grabbed his chin and forced him to look at me. "Don't do that. Don't bring up Joe to try and guilt me into changing my mind. Joe and I are done. It's a nonissue." My voice was strong and confident.

He just raised a stupid eyebrow, which meant 'explain'. So I tried, "He came over Saturday night to watch the hockey game."

"And?" he asked.

I sighed, "And he wanted more, but I wasn't in the mood."

He chuckled which caused a fabulous vibration to travel though his body, and made me shiver. His voice was sexy, "Babe you're always in the mood."

I slapped at his chest, "Shut up." With him I was always in the mood, but no need to tell him that. "I was worried about you. I knew, I knew something wasn't right."

He shook his head slightly, "Saturday night, but you couldn't, you didn't know."

I tried raising an eyebrow, but failed miserably. So I just shrugged, "I don't know how, but I did. And I didn't hide it very well. He got upset and told me he's done competing with you." I was very matter of fact about the whole thing.

Trying to wave it off he kissed my hand, "It's okay, he'll get over it."

My hackles started to rise, "What if I don't want him to?" He gave me a blank look. I tried to make mine equally blank as I told him in a tone you'd use with a small child or someone who was a little slow on the uptake, "It's over with Joe."

Slowly he smiled. Sure that I had his attention, I continued, "Ranger, this isn't about me thanking you for your service, this is me needing to reconnect with you. I knew. As soon as I heard the news, I knew, I felt it, that night, I felt you." He looked a little skeptical, so I pushed, "I felt it, the adrenaline rush, the fear, the relief and the regret." He just looked at me. I slid my hand up his chest and over his heart. "It's small, but it's there." I shook my head, "You can't deny it, not to me." He tried to turn away, but I stopped him, forcing him to look at me again, "You're a soldier, not a machine. I've killed too. He was a horrible human being who brought pain and suffering to millions, but it's still a life and I know the cost just as well as you do. You're not sorry he's dead and you wonder what kind of monster that makes you."

I let him process what I said. I could tell when he formed his plan of attack. He was feeling vulnerable and he was going to try and push me away again. He put his blank face on and pushed back from me. "So what? You think you can what? Help me fuck the pain away?"

I winced at his harsh words, but refused to shrink away from him, "If that's what you needed you wouldn't be here, you said so yourself. What you need is someone to share it with. Like it or not we have a connection." He knew I was right, I might as well go for the gold, "Ranger, we have a relationship. And it isn't something either of us seems to have any control over."

It was subtle, the change in him, but I could see when he accepted what I said. I was right and he knew it. No matter how much either of us tried to deny it, there it was. He moved slowly back to me, like he was afraid that I'd rabbit at any moment, but I wasn't going anywhere. His lips caressed mine, sweetly and softly, silently apologizing, but more than that, giving himself over to me. I felt it, when he acquiesced, and I knew he was mine.

Normally words were hard for me, I preferred to show him how I felt, but this time I needed to say it, to tell him. Turning his words back on him I whispered, "Proud of you Ranger."

Hearing his words on my lips caused something to snap. Suddenly there was an urgency to his movements. In the blink of an eye he removed the rest of our clothes and was pressing me into the mattress. The sure and solid weight of his body was as comforting as it was arousing, but mostly it just felt right. He pushed up on his forearms, his eyes locked on mine as he entered me. I shuddered and blinked hard to stop the tears from falling. My eyes never left his as he began to move inside me, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being together once again. When it all became too much we began to move faster, but still in perfect unison. I sobbed as I came, the pure emotion overtaking me. Finally letting go, I felt his release and knew that finally he was home.

We lay together in the quiet. Millions of people around the world celebrated one man's death; to them it meant justice, the end of something horrible. I didn't want to celebrate death; I was too busy celebrating the beginning of something beautiful.