Don't own them, make no profit, etc. Rating for smut.

Thanks to Robin for glancing over this for me, and to Kat for offering her opinion and edits - thanks babes!

She glanced at Ranger out of the corner of her eye. Something about him today was off, though she couldn't have said what it was. He looked and spoke as stoic as ever, but the set of his shoulders was different.

"This says there's 42 tricks to giving a blow job."

Steph blinked and looked back at Lula. "What?"

"Forty two tricks! Can you believe this shit? I've given a lot of blow jobs in my life, and let me tell you, there ain't no 42 tricks to it."

From where she was sitting on the couch, she could see Ranger's profile. He was standing in front of Connie's desk, flipping through files, but the lines around his eyes softened and his lips titled up, so slight it was almost imperceptible.

"You just kinda go up and down. Don't see why no one needs instructions."

Ranger's lips tilted up a little further. He was in later than usual today, too. He always came for the RangeMan files before ten, and here it was almost three.

"I could use some instructions," Connie said. "Let me see that." She leaned over the desk and snatched the magazine from Lula.

Ranger turned to leave, and was halfway to the door when his phone rang. If she hadn't been staring at him, she wouldn't have noticed the way he froze - the movement so slight she thought she imagined it - before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

He didn't say anything when he opened the phone and held it to his ear. His face was blank, but for just a second, she could have sworn that the look in his eyes was one of pure, gut-wrenching grief.

She blinked, and his face was blank again, as stoic as ever. "Okay," he said into the phone. "I'll see you in an hour." Without even glancing her way, he headed out the door.

"Do guys actually like it if you--"

Ignoring Connie's question, Steph jumped off the couch and raced out the door after him. She had no idea what was going on, but something was wrong. Very wrong. She caught up with him next to the passenger side of his truck and stopped him with a hand to his arm. "Hey," she said.

He turned to look at her, no expression showing on his face.

"What was that?" she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"The phone call. What's going on?"

"Nothing." No expression in his voice, either.

"Something's wrong. What is it?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

She resisted rolling her eyes, but barely. "I know better than that. Come on, man of mystery, start talking."

He stared at her for almost a minute before he spoke. When he did, his voice was quiet, as if even he didn't want to hear what he was about to say. "There was a death in the family. I have things I need to go take care of."

She took a step closer to him. "Who?"

He took a deep breath - in through his nose, out through his mouth - before answering. "My niece."

A child? Steph's chest constricted. "What happened?"

He stayed quiet, just staring at her, for so long that she didn't think he'd answer. Then he said, "Car accident. She was 17 and she didn't come home last night. They just found the car."

She lay a hand on his arm, curbing her instinct to hug him. "I'm so sorry, Ranger."

He nodded once. "I have to go. There are arrangements that need to be made."

"And you're the one to do it."

"Of course."

Of course. He was the one who was never affected. The rational one - the one who could set aside his grief to make all those arrangements that came with a death.

She reached for the door handle on the truck. "I'm coming with you."

She was halfway into the truck when his hands closed around her upper arms, lifting her, and planting her back on the sidewalk. "No, you're not."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Lula and Connie, both with noses pressed to the glass of the office. She ignored them. He was standing between her and the open door of the truck, arms crossed over his chest. She glared. "You need me."

No change in his expression.

If she stopped to think about it, she had no idea what she was doing. Ranger wasn't the kind of man who needed anyone, no matter the circumstances. But at the moment, he needed her. She didn't know how she knew or why and didn't particularly care.

At that moment, she had never been more sure of anything in her life.

She skirted around him and hoisted herself into the passenger seat. He narrowed his eyes. She ignored him, fumbling with the seat belt. He took it out of her hands, and for a second she thought he was going to physically remove her from the truck again. But after staring at her for moment, he sighed and buckled her in, his fingers skimming her waist.

He came around, climbed into the driver's seat, and started the truck, but paused with his hand on the gear shift. Turning his head to face her he stared at her for another second. When she didn't back down, he shook his head slightly and put the truck in drive.

They were halfway to Newark when she started to worry that perhaps she had been hasty. Maybe he really didn't want her tagging along. But this was Ranger, and Ranger didn't do anything he didn't want to do. If he didn't want her with him, he would have found a way to leave her behind.

The fact that he let her come at all spoke to his emotional state. Guess even Batman needed moral support now and then.

--rs--

The house they stopped in front of was a medium-sized row house in a deteriorating area of Newark. It wasn't the 'hood yet, but it was on its way. There were cars parked in every available spot, on the lawn, on the sidewalk; more cars, she assumed, than the usual.

Ranger took her hand as they headed up the walk and squeezed. She squeezed back, and then they were enveloped in a crowd of people in the house. A mix of rapid-fire Spanish and English hit her ears. Ranger weaved through the crowd, heading directly for a back room, pulling her behind him.

They stepped into what looked like a den or a family room. Two woman - mother and daughter, it looked like - were sitting on the couch. They were the only people in the room.

Ranger let go of Steph's hand and crossed to the younger of the two women, pulling her up off the couch into her arms. A sob escaped the woman before she buried her head on Ranger's chest.

Steph watched, her heart aching for Ranger. He took his role of caring for his family seriously, at the expense of his own needs. It hardly seemed fair, though Steph knew that she expected just as much, if not more, from him.

And what did she ever give him in return?

She could give him this. Still, it didn't seem enough. He stood still, and let the woman who she assumed was his sister, the girl's mother, cry. The older woman - his mother? - stood as well and kissed his cheek. He untangled one arm from his sister to pull the older woman against him too.

Steph shut the door and found a chair, content to settle down and wait. After a few minutes, the older woman moved toward her. "Are you Stephanie?" she said, wiping a handkerchief under her eyes.

"Um, yeah," she said, shaking the woman's outstretched hand. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you. Elena is--" she cleared her throat and rushed through the words -- "Elena was a good girl. I'm Gloria, Carlos' mother. If you'll excuse me, I need to see to the food."

"Can I help?" Steph said. She rather being physically doing something - anything - than just watching people grieve.

Gloria nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you."

Steph followed Ranger's mother, back down the hallway and through the crowded rooms. When yet another person stopped Gloria to speak to her, Steph kept wandering on her own until she found the kitchen.

There were a couple women in there, one plating up food, one making more coffee. Dishes were overflowing the sink, but a quick glance around confirmed that there was no dishwasher.

Determined to make herself useful, she rolled up her sleeves, flipped the water on hot, and started scrubbing. It was almost an hour before Gloria made it to the kitchen, and by then Steph had made three more pots of coffee, refilled two plates of finger foods, and washed another sink full of dishes.

Gloria rested a hand on Steph's back, where she stood at the sink, as she walked past. "Thank you," she said. She grabbed a towel from a peg and started drying the dishes Steph was setting on the rack.

They worked in silence for a few minutes before Gloria said, "I'm surprised that Carlos wanted company."

Steph bit down on her lower lip. "He didn't. But the second time I climbed in the truck, he didn't bother to pull me back out, so I came along."

Gloria smiled, a contrast to her red-rimmed eyes and pale skin. "You're good for Carlos. And no matter what he says, he needs you, so stick close to him today."

A throat cleared behind them. Steph cringed and turned to see Ranger standing in the doorway, a dark-haired little girl, maybe three or four, in his arms.

"Thanks, Mama," he said mildly.

Steph could feel her face turning red at getting caught, but Gloria didn't look fazed in the least. She walked over and held her arms out for the little girl. "Wanna sit with Abuela, Gabriella?

Gabriella scrunched up her nose and clung tighter to Ranger.

"It's okay, Mama. Why don't you go sit down for a while?"

Gloria nodded and patted Gabriella's back as she walked past, back toward the crush of people who wanted to offer their condolences and share their sympathy. The door closed behind her, muffling the noise, leaving Steph and Ranger with a pretense of privacy.

From across the small kitchen, she held his eyes. The lines around his mouth and eyes were still tight, his shoulders set a little lower than normal, but his gaze on her was warm.

"Thank you," he said softly.

She nodded, not sure of what else she should say.

"I still have some phone calls to make. You okay in here?"

"Yeah. I've just been washing dishes."

"It's a big help."

"Good." She stuck her hands in her pocket to keep from wringing them.

He smiled slightly and shifted Gabriella in his arms. "I'll be in the den - that room in the back - if you need me."

"Okay. Do you want some coffee?"

He looked over at the coffee pot, as if that hadn't even occurred to him. "Yeah, coffee would be good."

She hurried to pour him a cup, glad there was something she could do for him. Besides just sticking around -- sticking close, as his mother put it -- she didn't know what else to do.

He took the coffee cup she held out and leaned to kiss her on the cheek. "Thanks babe," he said, his voice low as his lips lingered by her ear.

Something flipped over in her chest. "Sure," she said, as he walked away.

--rs--

She spent another hour in the kitchen before going off in search of Ranger. Several other women had been in and out of the kitchen during that time. Ranger's sisters, she supposed. No one really introduced themselves, which was understandable. Families, good ones anyway, always banded tighter in times of grief.

The fact that they all seemed to know who she was and were comfortable addressing her by name was an interesting bit of information, but now wasn't the time or place to start asking questions.

Halfway down the hallway, a petite Hispanic woman stopped her. "Stephanie, right?"

She nodded.

"I'm Amara, another sister. Thanks for all your help today."

"I'm glad to do it."

Amara opened her mouth to say something else, but Gabriella came flying down the hall and attached herself to Amara's leg. "Mama," she said, pulling on Amara's arm.

"What, baby?"

"Unca' Carlo's mad again."

Amara sighed. She leaned down to lift Gabriella and rolled her eyes. She motioned with her head to the closed door of the den. "Can you deal with him? None of the rest of us ever can."

Before Steph could reply, Amara wandered off. "Let's go find your daddy," she said to the little girl.

Steph was left standing in the hallway, her mouth hanging open. They thought she could deal with Ranger? Could anyone?

That was a dumb question.

Heart pounding, she tapped her fingers on the door of the den, then ducked inside.

"Yeah," Ranger was saying into the phone. "Thursday at eleven. Father Ruaz is doing the service." Ranger caught her eye and held out his hand. When she got close, he pulled her down onto his lap.

"We'll see you then," he said into the phone. "Bye."

He hung up the phone and pulled her tighter. "Hey babe."

She cuddled into his chest, resting her hands over his heart as his lips brushed across the top of her head. "You scared Gabriella."

"Did she tell on me?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yes. I was sent to deal with you."

His arms tightened around her and she sank into him. "Is it working?" she said.

"Yeah."

"What happened anyway?" she said after a few minutes of silence.

"Nothing. Gabi's too sensitive."

Steph poked him in the chest. "She's four!"

He chuckled. "Good point," he said, catching her finger in his hand. He brought her hand up and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "We should get out of here. It's getting late and you probably need food."

Leave it to Ranger to worry about her stomach along with everything else. "I'm fine. I've been munching on the food in the kitchen all evening." She leaned back to look at his face. "But you haven't eaten anything."

"I'm fine."

Steph narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, we'll stop somewhere on the way home."

She resisted the urge to raise her arms in victory and settled for nudging his shoulder with her own. "Is someone staying with your mom tonight?"

"Yes. There'll be plenty of people around."

"And Celia?" She had gathered enough information just from listening to the people around her to find out that Elena had been Celia's oldest child.

"Yeah, her husband's with her. And I think Amara was going to stay with them to take care of the younger kids." He stood and planted her on her feet as he did so. "Come on, let's go home. There's nothing else we can do here."

She followed him through the rooms of the house, less crowded now than they had been hours ago. It seemed to be just family now, though she hadn't yet figured out who was who. Several of the women hugged him, which Ranger seemed to endure. His mother, however, he hugged back and held tight to his chest for a moment.

--rs--

Ranger pulled into the parking garage at RangeMan and turned off the engine. She didn't protest when he took her here instead of her apartment, and apparently he was taking her silence as consent.

It was.

He leaned against the back wall of the elevator and pulled her back against him. His arms were around her waist, and his chin was resting on her shoulder. He'd been touching her - small gestures - since she'd found him in his mother's den. They'd always had a physical relationship, but this was different. This touching wasn't about lust so much as comfort.

And though it wasn't sexual, it was intimate. Somehow, this contact felt more intimate than even making love had.

His hands tightened on her hips and she leaned back, relaxing against him. He turned his head enough to press his lips against her neck, his arms sliding far enough around her that his forearms crossed over her stomach.

There was a soft ding as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. His mouth was still next to her ear. "I should probably have one of the guys drive you home," he said before he led her out of the elevator, into the apartment.

She didn't bother to reply.

He dropped her hand and headed for the bedroom. "I've got to run through the shower."

She stood alone in the living room, trying to decide what to do. She could just go, grab one of the guys in the control room and have them drive her home. She could wait, and ask him to drive her. Or she could just…stay.

She knew what would happen if she stayed.

And of course, there was Joe. They were in one of their 'off' stages after a blow-up fight a few days before, but that didn't necessarily mean they were done. They went through off stages all the time.

The shower turned on in the bathroom and something in her heart ached, wondering what was going through his mind. Christ, the girl had been a teenager, not that much older than Julie. Ranger hadn't said anything about her, but she'd heard snippets of everyone else's conversation.

About how Ranger had been the one to teach her how to drive, and he'd helped her get reference letters for her college applications. About how, as a teenager, he had been inseparable from Elena and had practically raised her when she was a toddler.

An image hit her of how attached Gabi was to him, the way she had clung to him, and tears she couldn't hold back flooded her eyes.

She was staying. He could just get over it, no matter how many times he told her to leave. She wandered into the kitchen and pulled a six pack of Corona's out of the fridge.

She didn't see the pictures until she closed the door and almost dropped the cardboard handle on the beer. It was a strip of snapshots - the kind you get in the little booth at the mall. It was the name 'Elena Manuel' scrawled across the bottom picture like a signature in teenage-girl handwriting that made the image blur.

In each of the shots, Ranger was staring blankly at the camera, his disapproval of the whole situation clear. In the top picture, Elena was making faces at him; in the next, Elena was making faces a the camera while Gabi sat on his shoulders, a wide grin on her face.

"She made me take her to the mall last week," Ranger said from behind her, his voice hoarse. "And where I go, Gabi goes. Then we came here and she stuck it on the fridge and made me promise not to take it down. Said the apartment needed pictures."

He took the beer from her numb fingers and set it on the island. He popped the top off one, took a swig, then handed her one. When she approached him, he closed his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the island. He moved to stand between her legs and took another pull of the beer.

The empty bottle hit the counter top. "Then she found your hairbrush in the bathroom and spent the entire drive back to Newark pestering me with annoying questions." He took a step closer and rested his hands on her thighs. "I told her about you, just to shut her up."

Which explained how everyone in his family knew who she was and why they weren't surprised to see her. Steph took a shallow breath, wishing now that she hadn't known the reason.

His hands tightened on her thighs. She opened her eyes and stared at him. He looked haunted, like he was trying to shut down his emotions but couldn't.

"What else?" she said.

His voice turned colder. Though he didn't move, she could feel him retreating. "There's no point to this."

"Of course there is." She stared at him for a minute. "You clearly feel something."

"What do you want me to do? Cry? Rail against God at the injustice of a little girl trapped in a burning car?" He cut off abruptly. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward, until his forehead rested against hers. "She had a scholarship to college. Fucking pre-med."

She slid closer to him and raised her legs to wrap around his waist. The move pulled him flush against her and she steadied herself with her hands on his shoulders. His hands slid further up her thighs.

When she looked up at him, he was staring at her, the look in his eyes enough to make her heart stop and her lungs run out of air. She knew what he wanted - it was written all over his face. A few minutes to stop thinking, a chance to forget, to lose himself in something else. The necessary, instinctual need for affirmation that blood and life still pulsed through his veins.

"You need to leave, Stephanie."

"No."

His hands moved higher, tightening on her hips until the grip was painful. Desperate. His voice was low, barely controlled. "I mean it."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

He leveled her with a look. "Yes, I will."

"You need me."

A harsh sound escaped him. "Don't fool yourself. I need a woman and you happen to be the handiest one."

By force, she stopped herself from flinching. He was right, and they both knew it. What he didn't seem to get was that she was offering exactly what he needed. She leaned forward and let her lips close over his, clinging. He didn't respond.

She tightened her legs around his waist and tried again, sliding her tongue along the seam of his lips. "Let me," she whispered.

"No."

"You need me."

He didn't reply. She ran her hands over his chest, then down to his stomach. After only a second of hesitation, she continued down, sliding her hand between their bodies. He was hard and hot and straining against her hand.

She pushed with her hand, and he made a low noise in the back of his throat. "Don't do this," he said, but it came out strangled. He pulled her hand away and held it still against her leg. "I'd just be using you."

"I know." She met his eyes. "I'm offering."

He stared at her, searching, for a long moment before his arms wrenched her even closer and his mouth crashed down on hers, tongue and teeth and mouths colliding. He pulled her off of the island counter she'd been sitting on and without breaking the kiss, carried her toward the bedroom.

She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him back with every ounce of passion she had, desperate to drive away his grief, to lessen it if only for a few minutes. But regardless of his state of mind, he elicited the same reaction from her that he always did - instant and bone-deep arousal.

He tossed her onto the bed, leaving her free to gasp for air as he stripped, then fell on top of her. His hands were on her, everywhere, under her shirt, then ripping it off; on her waist and her hips, then unbuttoning her jeans.

The briefest inkling of fear flickered through her. This was not the Ranger she'd spent the night with years ago, the controlled, considerate lover. This time he was hungry and desperate and willing to take whatever she gave.

She was willing to give him everything if it'd make a difference.

Before she could catch up with her swirling thoughts, she was naked, and his body was resting on top of hers, his weight seeping into her and his ragged breathing in her ear doing funny things to her heart.

Heat pooled low in her belly and she tightened her arms around him, begging for more. His hands trailed down her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake and she arched her back.

His fingers found her wet and ready for him. He slid one finger inside of her, groaning when she tightened around him. He kissed her, his tongue plunging into her mouth, setting up a primal rhythm, drawing what he needed from her and then he was inside of her with one long, smooth thrust that made her wrench her mouth from his and cry out at the sensation.

He was driving into her, over and over, deeper each time, in a rhythm that matched his tongue. Her heart filled with some nameless emotion and ruthlessly she beat it back. It doesn't mean anything she said to herself. She was just here and handy - he'd even said so, hadn't he? It meant nothing to him and if she let it mean something to her…

Her head knew it; her heart was greedy. Her heart was drinking in all the emotions, feeling passion where there was only lust, need where there was only convenience, love where there was only proximity.

But he was so deep inside of her, touching some place that she hadn't known existed. It doesn't mean anything! His hands touched her face, so tender, and he kissed her again, his mouth soft and seeking over hers.

He slowed, burying himself inside of her with each thrust. He groaned with the pleasure of it, a sound that had her body clenching down, pulling him in further. His mouth found her cheek and her jaw, his hand went to her breast.

Emotions were welling up inside of her, as desperate for their own release as her body was for the orgasm that was close. So close. His teeth scraped over her neck, then bit down. It doesn't mean anything! But it was too late. Her emotions were too close to the surface, too raw. Her body shattered and the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"I love you."

He froze and stared down at her, looking so deep into her eyes she knew there was nothing she could hide. He sped up, moving faster, harder, even more desperate than he had been the moment before, so deep that she couldn't help the scream that ripped from her throat as another wave overtook her. This time he snapped, joining her, and his body collapsed onto hers.

His arms didn't loosen from around her, even as they both waited for their heartbeats to return to normal. His hands were still moving over her skin, his lips on her neck, like even now he couldn't bear to not be touching her.

He rolled them so that they were on their sides, limbs still tangled and joined. "I don't know what I would have done," he said.

She looked up at him.

"If you hadn't been there today."

"You would have taken care of your family, just like you always do."

He shook his head. "Not this time. I'd have never made it though that."

She poked his chest, desperately needing to lighten the moment and remove the terrible ache from her chest, from regret or relief she wasn't sure which yet. "You needed me."

"Always." He caught her lips with his own. "I love you."

The end...