Story Title: What Ever Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger

Summary: Morelli and Steph finally break up (for real) and Morelli can't handle it. He does the unthinkable, and Ranger helps Stephanie deal with the results.

Story Rating: R

Status: Work in Progress

Genre: Drama

Couple: Stephanie and Ranger (eventually)

Spoilers: through Ten Big Ones

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but only gently use for my amusement.

Warning: If you love Joe Morelli, you aren't going to enjoy this story.

Chapter Thirteen

Stephanie broke Ranger's embrace first. "How do I go back to being semi-sane and normal now? I don't even know how to go about it—"

"So don't." Ranger sighed, rose, and began pacing. "You can't go home again, Stephanie. You aren't that person anymore. Get comfortable with who you are now."

"That's the problem, Ranger," Steph blew out a frustrated breath, throwing herself back onto Ranger's huge bed and assuming her thinking position. "I didn't have that great a grasp on who I was to begin with. How the hell am I going to figure out who I am NOW?"

For once, Ranger did not offer any suggestions. Instead, he assumed a similar position on the bed next to Stephanie. "How did you figure it out the first time, Babe?"

A lord snort of laughter echoed in the quiet room. "Shit. I have no idea. Mostly, I listened to what my mom and friends said to do and then did the opposite. Men, jobs, where I lived. Everything I thought I knew about me was a reaction against where I came from."

Steph felt Ranger nod next to her on the bed, but he didn't offer any words of wisdom, so she continued her train of thought. "Well, I think we can leave men off the list for now," Steph stated, feeling the tension in her jaw draw her molars tight against each other. "And as for job, well, I guess I'm keeping the same one, for lack of a better opportunity." Steph rolled to her side, searching out Ranger's eyes. "And that means going back to the men problem. I can't be a bounty hunter in Trenton without dealing with Morelli."

"How do you feel about that? Having to see him almost every day?" Ranger asked, concern evident in eyes and voice.

"I can't do it, if I have to see him everyday." Steph felt tears begin to well up. She blinked hard to keep them from falling, and was mostly successful. "But I've gone weeks, sometimes months, without seeing him at the station when we were off-again. I just hope that, with Bella's help, I can manage that again."

Ranger cupped her cheek, sliding a thumb across her eyelid and wiping away tears. "Me, too, Babe. The offer to work at Rangeman stands, though, if you feel you can't do it."

Steph gave Ranger a trembly smile. "I was sorta hoping to try and do both. I need to set my finances straight, move into a real place of my own that actually is SAFE."

"All full-time positions come with an apartment on four, if one is available." Ranger brushed the curls back from Stephanie's face. "One is available." And even if one weren't, Ranger thought to himself, anyone of the guys would kill to be the one to give his up for the Bombshell. As always, the seventh was an option if she wanted it, but Ranger wasn't pushing it.

Steph bit her lip, emotions obviously torn with the desire to live safely in a new place and the desire to find said place on her own. "If there really is one available—" she raised an eyebrow. "I'll take it on a temporary basis. Just until I find my own place."

A small victory—one less thing for Ranger to worry about—and he was immediately grateful. "So one thing settled. And, with you living in the building, working out and training will be that much easier."

Unease settled into Stephanie's eyes again. "Yeah, it will be." Steph could see the change of expression begin to cross Ranger's face and she cut it off. "I am not going to stint on that, Ranger. I really mean it that I want to learn and get better. I'm just worried that—well—" Ranger waited for her to finish, letting her find the words and bravery. "What if this is as good as I will ever be at this stuff?"

Ranger shook his head. God, his Babe always underestimated herself. "You have had zero training, Babe. There is no way that this is as good as you'll ever get at our type of work." Rising, he held a hand out to her. "Proof positive—let's try some of that training now."

"I just showered!" Steph grumbled, studying his hand as if it were a poisonous beast waiting to strike.

"I have more bottles of Bulgari than you could use up in a month of showering, Babe." He waited patiently, wanting to see her take the first step on her own. Once she grasped his hand and began to rise, he pulled her into a grappling hold. Using her own momentum getting up from the bed, Ranger spun her around so that his arms pinned hers against her torso and her back was pressed against his chest and belly. "So let's get started right now. "

********

It had taken three days for Stephanie to pack up her apartment. Most of what had to be packed was clothes, shoes, and toiletries, almost all of which were tossed into boxes wholesale from closets and dressers. Steph could barely stand to look at some of the little skirts and low cut blouses. She had tried to cull the clothes and get rid of things she no longer wore, but after ten outfits or so, the trash factor was too much for her to deal with. Nothing seemed modest enough, and she refused to get rid of her entire wardrobe because Morelli had fucked with her head. So, until she could reasonably face her fashion sense and ignore the harsh voices in her head, clothes were a "deal with later" item.

At that, it has still taken the better part of a day to fold and pack it all.

Next up was simple household items, linens and towels and dishes. Aside from her new purchases, it all fit into two small boxes. Steph was a far cry from Martha Stewart, she reflected to herself as she placed her sole pan into a box, next to her cracked and chipped cookie jar wrapped up in the two kitchen towels she owned. Bottle opener, can opener, and spatula followed. The three plates and two chipped coffee mugs were barely worth the space.

A dresser, TV, and shakey dining room table set was the extent of her furniture. The new bed delivery was redirected to Haywood with a phone call, and she decided that the sofa was beat up enough to go live by the dumpster. With her healthy Rangeman checks, she planned on slowly buying real furniture and kitchen items. It was time, with all these other changes, to trade in college dorm chic for something more—

Mature.

It took longer to scrub the apartment clean than to pack. Steph was determined to leave the place nice, after having been firebombed and death cootied and fire bombed again. Each and every time the place had been thoroughly cleaned, rooms gutted, the place repaired. It was the least she could do for Dillon, who had always helped her out and made sure she was taken care of in terms of home maintenance.

The beauty of working with big, brawny guys was that she didn't have to hire a mover. Four Rangeman vehicles, three guys to help, and her entire life fit neatly inside ten elevator trips at Haywood.

*******

Once the guys had unloaded her stuff, Steph was left with the unpacking—which meant that the clothing needed to be dealt with. The clothes were not a "do it herself" kind of job. Her earlier inability to do it on her own was proof of that. She decided that she needed a woman's opinion, someone who didn't have any preconceived notions about how Steph should look and wasn't stuck in the collective Jersey 80s style anymore.

Picking up the phone, never having called Ella directly, Steph took a moment to gather some courage. Not sure how to ask the favor, Steph settled for asking for Ella to come talk to her on four. Ella answered briskly, efficiently, and agreed to come right up to talk to Stephanie. Steph cradled the phone, staring at it, trying to come up with a rational explanation for why she needed help unpacking her clothes.

The knock at the door made Steph jump. "Coming!" she called, snaking through the boxes stacked precariously through the living room area. Opening the door, she was greeted to a smiling Ella and the savory aroma of a fresh pineapple-upside down cake. Steph couldn't contain a smile.

Ella entered, stating, "I thought whatever the matter is, pineapple upside down cake always makes it better—and since I had just taken one out of the oven, waa-laa!"

"You are a goddess, Ella!" Steph wondered, times like now a bit more seriously than others, if Ella wasn't really psychic.

"Ah, mi mami always said maybe, but I don't know," Ella smiled. "And yes, you said it out loud. So what do you need help with, my dear?"

"Ah," Steph started. "Well, since I am moving, and trying to change my approach to life and work, well—" She wrinkled her nose, trying to find the words. "I need to reevaluate my clothes. I have to get rid of some, create a new look—I just don't know how to do it."

Ella was not oblivious to what went on in the building. She had not been told outright why Stephanie Plum had yet again taken up residence, but she has seen the state of Stephanie before the bruises had fully healed. Ella was also an excellent eavesdropper when need be; she had largely put together the "why" by now, and Steph's need for help in sorting out her wardrobe pretty much clinched it. Her smile never waivering and her tone as light as ever, Ella answered, "Well, I guess that's where I come in. It will be nice to do some girl things around here. Where should we start?"

Ella could tell that Stephanie was nervous. Having seen video of some of Steph's "distractions" for Ranger—and having bought some of those very outfits for Ranger to give to Steph—Ella had a good idea of the range of clothing style Steph was likely to own. Ella was not shocked by the short hemlines, plunging necklines, and inches of stiletto that appeared, despite Steph's questioning of what Ella thought of them—too slutty? Too revealing?

With each selection, Ella turned Steph's request for Ella's opinion around by asking thoughtful questions—what do you like about this one? Is there something that works well for you with it—color, cut, feels comfortable? Is the outfit special because of memories it brings to mind—where you wore it or whom with? The questions helped focus Stephanie on the clothes, on herself, not what others thought of it or would think about her in it. In a miraculously short period of time, there was a fairly decent amount of clothing hung up in the closet and a reasonable stack back into a box to go to Good Will. As dinner approached, Ella had to excuse herself, but promised to help Steph out again the next day if she still needed help. With a hug goodbye, the cake left behind, Ella left Steph to continue on alone.

The old Steph, left on her own, might have given up or chickened out. But keeping Ella's questions in mind, Steph kept at it and had managed to finish sorting clothes—not foot wear, jackets, purses, or accessories—by nine-thirty, the time she noted on the clock when another knock interrupted her. Folding down the last flap of the third Good Will clothes box, Steph rose and made her way to answer the door.

Ranger, eyebrow quirked up and hands shoved into his pockets, waited for her. "Was wondering how the move went, since you hadn't resurfaced yet. It's not like you to miss dinner."

"Sorry," Stephanie shrugged. "Ella brought me cake, and I started sorting through my clothes—"

Ranger was happy to hear about the clothes, since a few days ago she couldn't even make decisions about dressing herself. "How many days will it take to get through all those boxes?" Ranger joked.

Steph smiled. "Finished. Everything is hung up, and there are boxes for Goodwill."

Surprise registered on Ranger. "You didn't just chuck everything hot and sexy did you?" He was only half-joking, waiting to see how Steph took the comment.

It simply made her smile wider. "Don't you wish you knew," she teased back. Motioning to the kitchen, she asked Ranger if he wanted some cake. Surprisingly, he didn't decline. Hacking out big pieces for each of them, placed onto opened-up napkins—the household goods still in boxes—Steph and Ranger laid into them. Wiping crumbs from her mouth and hands, Steph made appreciative sounds. "It's better than my mother's. She can disown me now—I have a alternate desert source!"

Ranger laughed for a moment before he felt the inner urge to be helpful to Steph in getting past Morelli's damage to her take over. "So, when are you going to talk to your mom? Hasn't it been almost a week now?"

Steph nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah. I'm getting there. Maybe tomorrow. Not in person, at first. I need to hear her voice and see if I can take it before I make a personal appearance." Crumbling up her make-shift plate and putting it into the trash, Steph couldn't believe she was going to say this, but—

"Wanna go to the gym with me, Ranger? I haven't been there yet today…."