Rangeday EXTRA 9

Ranger point of view, takes place after Rangeday chapter 19

I had to be in Boston. Didn't particularly want to go, but business is business and this particular project wasn't going to run smoothly if I didn't get there myself for the duration. Initial plan was to run it 24/7 but I arranged weekends off. Didn't take much – vice cops like weekends off, too. Boston is close enough to drive back to Trenton for a weekend and I didn't want to leave Steph alone for three weeks straight. So soon after our most recent discussion… I didn't want to risk her starting to second-guess her own decisions.

"Was this a test?"

The words 'no, of course not' were on my lips when I caught myself. Had it been a test? Not consciously. I hadn't set out not to call her, hadn't set out to find if she could handle it when I went on a mission and couldn't call her. I had arranged the mission so I could see her on the weekends and intended to call her at least twice a week.

So what had stopped me from picking up the phone? I told myself that I'd call the next day, when I was less stressed. That I had nothing to tell her right then. That she'd think I had lost my mind if I called just to hear her voice. I've never called anyone just to chat, why should I start now?

I disconnected with a weak excuse and cursed myself. Not only did I upset her, I couldn't even cover myself with a smooth lie anymore. What was happening to me? Why didn't I just tell her that no, of course it wasn't a test, I had just been very busy? Now I had brought my weekend plans into danger. I'd been planning to join the guys at Shorty's, feed her margarita's and junk food, and abduct her to my house afterward.

She'd wake up in my bed... my bed at my real home. Then I'd take care of her until the hangover wore off, let her explore my house, and hopefully end up back in bed with her exploring other things. Seemed like the perfect moment to make our first time... our REAL first time.. a perfect occasion.

I've been trying to show her that I can be there for her... share myself with her. It doesn't have to be Paris. Just seeing her, talking to her, holding her... it makes life seem far more perfect than I ever thought it could be. If you had told me a year ago that I'd give up the possibility of a hot night with Stephanie in favour of sleeping on her couch while she watched crappy films next to me... I would have laughed. But I did do that, and haven't regretted it for a second.

And now I've messed up. She's probably furious right now, and I won't be home until well past midnight. Another time I would go by her apartment and crawl into bed with her, but she'll probably lock the deadbolt now.

The deadbolt is a source of anger and confusion. I should be pleased that she's safer, but instead I'm unhappy because it also keeps me out. How fucked up is that? Then there were the times that I turned up to call her out of bed and the bolt wasn't locked, and that ticks me off. Now she has it, she should use it. Not sometimes, all the time.

Except when I'm planning to come over unannounced. Glad I cleared that up.

As Thomas would say…. Carlos, man, you're in way deep.

When I finally arrive back at Haywood somewhere past three-thirty AM I don't bother dropping by the control room. If there was anything I should know about, I'd already have been told. I'll go straight to bed, and try to invent a way to make it up to Stephanie tomorrow.

My appartment feels off. Someone has been here. The sidelight is on and there are empty Corona bottles on the lounge table. Have the guys been using this place as alternate break-room? They won't do that again when I've finished discussing this with them.

My bedroom is open. Maybe Stephanie used my bathroom for a shower this afternoon? I'd never discourage her from that. Her scent lingers there, and I can imagine her in the shower with me.

No.

I pause in the open doorway, taking her in by the dimmed bedside light. She's on her side, knees drawn up, nestled in the covers. A wavy curl tickles her sweet lips, moving with each breath. She's fast asleep. How did she get here? And why did she come? I didn't expect her to want to see me at all right now. Let alone to find her in my bed.

Doesn't matter. I take the fastest shower known to mankind, quietly put on my sleeping shorts, and slide under the covers with her. Hmm, maybe she didn't mean to sleep here. At least, she's dressed; sweatpants and a T-shirt. I've never know her to wear this to bed.

"Babe," I breathe, pulling her close. She wakes a little and mutters something. Not clear what. Then she turns around to drape herself against my side, pulls her knee up over my thigh, and says it again.

"I hate you…" she sighs. I wince, but it's hard to feel worried about her mumbled comment while she's sleepily rubbing her cheek against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Babe," I whisper. I've had a long drive to think about why I didn't call. I don't know what possessed me to promise I would call in the first place – I've never called someone just to chat. Wouldn't know what to say, and why would you call someone and then not say anything? I don't need to hear her voice to know she thinks of me. I know she's okay, because the office would let me know immediately if she wasn't. There really is no reason for me to call her when I'm away for a couple of days.

Except, of course, that she thinks differently. She calls people just to say hello, to catch up. She can hang on the phone for an hour with a friend she just saw two hours ago. To her talking on the phone isn't about exchanging information, but about bonding. It's a skill I don't possess. I've called her in the past and ended up catching up for a few minutes, but I always have a reason to call.

Add to that my promise that I would call. I can be there for her a hundred times, bail her out of a thousand jams, but the moment I promise something that I don't deliver will stick with her. I told myself she's used to not hearing anything while someone she's involved with is away for a time, but forgot the fatal flaw in that reasoning – the one who got her used to that is Morelli. And if there is one thing I don't want to remind her off, it's her time with the cop.

Why is she here? Judging by the crumpled bedsheets, she must have come here not long after our phone conversation. I thought I was in for a serious setback in her trust, not for finding her in my bed.

Unless she came here to chew me out, and just fell asleep before I got here. That would explain the 'I hate you'.

I let my hand glide along her back, easing her back to sleep. As her breathing deepens, I decide that this will be the last time I have disappointed her trust in me.

Thanks for the new reviews! I had these 'extra' stories still floundering when I was done with Rangeday itself, and just didn't have the energy for them back then. I've had a long creative dry spell so I'm trying to get back into it by cleaning up and finishing up these stories.

There's a Tank & Tsuy sidestory that I may do something with, too.

Cheers,

Arwen