A/N: The standard disclaimer applies to this story. I'm not JE and I don't pretend to be, as such, I'm only borrowing the characters that belong to her for a little fun.

Even though this story doesn't follow the canon timeline, it may contain spoilers for all nineteen books.

Before we get to the story, I'd like to thank Merciki for introducing me to the world of Plum and urging me to start writing again, and Highlands girl, my incredible beta, for patiently proofing draft after draft of each chapter, pointing out my grammar blunders and helping me tie-up loose ends in the plot. Thank you both from the bottom of my heart.

One night, after I'd finished reading Hard Eight, I started thinking why Ranger's lifestyle might not lend itself to relationships...

DEFYING DESTINY

A quoi peut me servir de trouver le destin...

S'il ne mène pas à toi ?

What good is it to me to find my destiny…

If it doesn't lead me to you?

Lara Fabian - Immortelle

Chapter 1. Bang-Bang, I hit the ground

Stephanie reached for the handle and pushed against the rusted metal. The window creaked open, letting hot and oppressively humid air into the room. A trickle of sweat slithered down her spine, as she peered into the darkness, listening for anything that could mean her attempt to escape had been discovered. But, other than the buzz of cicadas and the hum of cars, speeding along the interstate, she heard nothing.

The parking lot was just as deserted as it had been that afternoon, when she followed Rodney 'Easy Money' Alembert, her good-for-nothing skip, to the rundown industrial district on the south side of Trenton. A small time scammer, he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box and didn't notice Stephanie tailing him when he pulled away from Seven Eleven on Sloan Avenue.

For the next hour, Rodney aimlessly drove around the greater Trenton area, testing her patience and the limits of her latest hunk of junk, posing for a car, until he stopped an abandoned warehouse. When he entered the building, Stephanie looped around the back and parked out of sight. After locking her car, she made a beeline for the door, that Rodney had disappeared behind, and cracked it open. Even though the dilapidated building looked empty inside, it didn't hurt to be careful, so she slipped in quietly, armed with a stun gun that was, for once, fully charged.

Sneaking around the tall steel racks, lining the floor, she spotted Rodney walking into a door at the back of the warehouse. Assuming she'd nab him without much of a struggle, she crept in after him and was caught off guard by the sight of an elderly gentleman, hunched over a desk.

The man looked up from the plans he had been studying and flashed her a sharp smile that didn't reach his cold eyes.

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Plum. So nice of you to join us."

Before she could formulate a response, a nasty blow to the back of her head sunk her into oblivion.

When Stephanie regained consciousness, she was alone, lying on her side on a cold concrete floor of a dingy room. The pale moonlight streamed through the panes of a large window, hitting the narrow windowsill, and pooled on the floor, breaking up the darkness. The smell of dust and mold, filling the stale air, was suffocating. Her vision was blurry, her throat was parched, and her head was throbbing. She tried to move her arms, but her wrists were bound behind her back. Tugging on the restraints, she winced from pain, when the rough rope bit into her flesh.

Rolling onto her stomach, she managed to pull herself up and sit back on her knees, wishing for an ice pack and for this day to never have happened. Hey, when you dream, dream big, she thought bitterly, closing her eyes in hope that the pounding in her head would stop.

This time, she had no one to rely on but herself: the cavalry wouldn't be coming to her rescue. She had laid into Ranger that morning, ditched her panic button and all her trackers on the sideboard by the door of his penthouse apartment on Haywood, and stormed out of the RangeMan building. Later, when Stephanie was leaving the bond's office to go after her skips, she refused Lula's offer of backup, unwilling to endure the third degree about her personal life or discussing anything that involved Ranger.

She didn't need Lula to tell her that she had overreacted that morning. It wasn't as if Ranger had promised her commitment. On the contrary, he had always been very forthcoming about his intentions and the nature of the relationship he was willing to offer. Her delusions were hers and hers alone.

After she'd called it quits with Morelli five months ago without any intention to reconcile with him ever again, Stephanie's prospects for a social orgasm were slim, or, rather, nonexistent. Her hormones were going haywire from sexual frustration, and in a lust induced haze, the idea of turning to Ranger for release didn't seem ill conceived. She figured she'd deal with the emotional baggage later, or better yet, never. Was she wrong, or was she wrong!

While she had known for some time that she was in love with the man of mystery, she never intended to tell him how she felt, but last night, the confession just tumbled out. She could have anticipated any response, but the one she got. He froze. And it became obvious to her then, that she had made a grave mistake.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she muttered. "How could I've been so stupid?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the memory. But her attempt was futile: their morning argument kept replaying in her mind as though it was rolling off a deranged movie reel.

As soon as she walked out of his bedroom and saw him by the window, staring into the distance, she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. Dread coiled in her stomach when she heard his low and controlled voice, saying the four words she hated most, as he stood still, facing the street.

"We need to talk."

She stiffened, feeling a lump the size of a tennis ball form in her throat, and was unable to utter a word. He took her silence for acquiescence and continued.

"Steph, I'm not the man you think I am."

Flinching on the inside at his use of her full name, she opened her mouth to speak, but he turned around then, and the words froze under the intensity of his gaze.

"I love you, Babe. But it doesn't change anything."

She searched his face, trying to identify the emotion that flickered in his dark eyes. Giving up, she asked softly, "What are you telling me?"

"I can't offer you the kind of commitment…"

"Jeez, Louise," she cut him off, rolling her eyes in exasperation. Even though she suspected that she'd have better luck breaking through a brick wall with her bare hands, than getting Ranger to listen to what she had to say, she had to give it a shot.

"Don't you see, Ranger? Your friendship has been a more of a commitment, than my relationship with Joe ever was!"

"Stephanie."

His voice was rough, as though he was teetering on the edge of his control. If she hadn't gotten so adept at reading the subtle changes of his blank expression, she would have missed the slight flare of his nostrils, when he paused to let out a cleansing breath. But as soon as he resumed speaking, his tone was once again flat.

"You deserve more, not less. And no matter how much I want to be the man to give you that, I can't."

"That's a load of crap, and you know it!" She glared at him, realizing that not a word that she had said got through his thick skull.

"No, it's not." The resignation in his tone riled her up, so the tension around his mouth and the pain that flashed in his eyes went unnoticed.

The sense of déjà vu washed over her as she recalled their conversation after he'd collected on the DeChooch deal. Working herself into a full blown rhino mode to avoid bursting into tears, she let him have it.

"You're one cold bastard! You pull me into your life only to push me away. What am I, a fucking yo-yo? I can't believe you're feeding me the same line of crap again…" Her voice wavered as it occurred to her that this time she had initiated their tearing up the sheets, but then, reminding herself that he hadn't exactly refused her advances, she forged ahead. "Why bother telling me you love me, if you're going to qualify it with enough fine print to fill a dozen car commercials? Do you get off on trampling over my heart?"

If she wasn't as angry as she was, she would have laughed at herself for being this naïve, thinking that their friendship could grow into something more. And when he said nothing in response to her diatribe, she turned on her heel and stomped off into his bedroom to get dressed. Two minutes later she came back out, pulling her unruly curls into a ponytail. Ranger hadn't moved a muscle, standing by the window, silently watching her dart around his apartment, gathering her things.

Finally, she stopped to pick up her handbag. Rummaging through it, she mustered up enough restraint to match his dispassionate tone.

"I'm sick of your twisted mind games, Ranger."

Unable to find what she was looking for, she shook all the contents out onto the sideboard by the door, and then shoved everything back, leaving the trackers, key fob, and panic button.

"I won't be needing these anymore."

She turned to him, meeting his eyes for the first time since walking back into the living room, so he could see the fury and pain his words had caused her.

"I hope you made the last mind fuck count, because I've had it. You can strike this entertainment line item from your budget."

"Babe."

She didn't give him a chance to say what he had intended, because she didn't have it in her to continue their argument. They were clearly at an impasse: if he couldn't be bothered with understanding what she needed from their relationship, not allowing for the possibility that it could develop beyond friendship, then there was no reason for her to stick around.

She turned away to slide on her shoes, slung the handbag over her shoulder, and reached for the door handle.

"Save it, Ranger. I'm done."

Her heart was breaking in her chest and she scrambled to get away, refusing to add to her humiliation by falling apart in front of him. She slammed the door as hard as she could and ran down seven flights of stairs, forgoing the elevator. The flicker of hope that he would stop her went out when she got to the underground garage. She jumped into her car and tore out, barely waiting long enough for the security gate to open, as if the hounds of hell were hot on her heels. Making it to her apartment in half the time it usually took her, she let the tears flow, collapsing on her bed.

Stephanie gave herself a mental head slap. This wasn't the time to contemplate her relationship or lack thereof with Batman. There had to be a way out of the rotten situation she had gotten herself into, going after her skip without backup.

She blinked a few times and looked around, hoping to find something she could use to rip the rope, binding her hands. Except for a tall metal rack in the corner, the room was empty. Like an inchworm, panting from the stifling heat and effort, she crawled over to the rack and twisted around to rub the rope on the rusted corner. As soon as she felt it loosen, she pulled her wrists apart. Pins and needles pierced her shoulders as she rotated her arms in an attempt to get the blood flowing, the circular motion easing her discomfort. Her wrists and palms were raw from the friction, but she was free from her restraints. Now she had to look for an escape route, since she couldn't have much time before her captors came back for her.

The door was locked from the outside, but the window wasn't sealed shut. After getting it open, she pulled herself up and climbed out onto the ledge, holding onto the bent bars outside. There was at least a fifteen foot drop to the ground, but, thankfully, a pile of tires was scattered on the blacktop below. She waited until the clouds covered the moon, submerging the parking lot into complete darkness, and dropped down, bracing herself for the impact. Landing on the vile smelling rubber with a dull thud, she caught her breath and rolled off. When she rose to her full height, a stab of pain lanced through her ankle.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath. And I thought this was going so well.

Even if her ankle wasn't broken, there was no way it would now hold her weight, thwarting her plan of running across the lot and hiding behind the next building to make it to her car. Moving along the wall, glancing back every so often to ensure she wasn't being followed, she ignored the burning pain in her ankle and limped ahead. A metallic clank echoed off the building walls, when she stumbled over a steel pipe in the darkness.

Way to be aware of your surroundings, Steph, she thought with reproach, plastering herself against the side of the building. Expecting to be discovered, she held her breath, but didn't hear any suspicious sounds. Wiping sweat off her forehead, she started moving again, keeping an eye on the ground, wary of making another noise. Reaching the end of the wall, she peered around the corner of the building to check if anyone was guarding the door.

The parking lot on this side was just as dark and empty. All the lights were off and the moon was still hiding behind the clouds. The next building over was at least thirty yards away, a distance which, with the state of her ankle, was daunting.

Clenching her teeth, she separated from the wall and started across the lot. When she was about half way there, the rumbling of a car engine broke through the silence of the night, as a truck with dark headlights parked at the far corner of a building across the lot. Even though no one got out, she realized she was completely exposed and had to scramble for cover. Forgetting her throbbing ankle, she broke into a run, when a stab of searing pain tore through her back. The force of the impact propelled her forward, and by the time she hit the ground, she felt nothing.