Disclaimer: Janet's character are not mine. I just love them so much (particularly Ranger) that I occasionaly play with them.

Author's Note: This just popped into my head. I think Stephanie's going to have some major love-life issues to deal with soon, so I delved in a little.

Not too much though, since I still have the other story going. I wrote this in a journal format. I know Stephanie would never slow down enough to write, but I just thought it would be a good medium to use.

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I'm not much for writing things down. Not because my writing skills extend only so far as to get me a B in basic Comp. but because writing things down means you've got to have clear thoughts that you want to record. I'm not much for having clear thoughts.

Oh, I get some occasionally. Usually they occur just in time to save my life or bring in a skip, but mostly my mind in a constant jumble of urges, feelings, and desires.

It's been three days since I was almost gang raped and killed. Time seems to have dragged and flown. I don't know how that's possible though.

Mary-Lou came to visit me today. She told me that I needed to talk about it. I agreed.

We sat in silence for two hours.

I tried, but I couldn't. I couldn't formalize words. I ended up bursting into tears. Mary-Lou held me as I sobbed. I hadn't sobbed.

Never underestimate the value of a good sob.

She left around nine, and hugged me at the door. She hugged me tight and I got the feeling that she was telling me something with that hug, than she pulled back and looked me square in the eye.

Get it out of your system Steph. Do whatever you need to, but get it out. Don't keep it inside.

So here I am.

And I have a confession to make.

It's not the Slayer thing that's got me feeling like shit.

Yeah, the slayer thing was pretty bad. But come on, I've found hacked off feet in my fridge and dead men on my couch. I'm good at bouncing back. It could have been bad, but thanks to Sally, it wasn't. It's a dead issue. (No pun intended)

I don't stress dead issues.

I stress live ones.

And this one is live and hot… and incredibly sexy.

And comes double.

I think if I live to be 100 – which I probably won't (And let's be honest why the hell would I want to) but anyway… the point is I don't think I'll ever forget the way Ranger and Morelli hit that pavement running towards me. The look on their faces.

Yeah, look, as in singular, because it was the same look. Cold rage.

My hero's I'd said teasingly, but that's what they were.

They protected me – from psychos and sometimes from myself.

They love me.


More like Ugh.


Because it occurred to me as I rode with Ranger back to RangeMan, while listening to Morelli on the phone, that they were sharing me.

That's what they'd always done. That's what those manly, looks they gave each other were about.

They shared me.

Which I guess wasn't so bad, until one started pressuring for something more. Joe had been pressuring lately. And Ranger was beginning to give the impression that he may one day want the option to pressure.

And I didn't want to give up either of them.

So for the last three days I've done my best effort to avoid seeing either of them; haven't left the apartment, haven't picked up the phone, and have only made two phone calls.

I've been trying to sort out what the hell it is I'm feeling. What kind of relationship I have with each man. Are we even in relationships?

My conclusion: I'm fucked.

And not even literally.

I love them both.

I like Pino's and ball games with Morelli. I like trading sexual innuendo's and teasing with Ranger.

And they both have the ability to cause orgasm with one look.

But in the end I can only have one.

I love them both.

In the end I can only have one.

Ok, I'm back. So I've given it some thought. Sort of. That's why I put the little dots there. I took a shower, fed Rex, and crawled into bed – with the notebook and pen obviously.

Here's my conclusion. Another one, but bigger:

One day I won't be able to make-out with Morelli and then have sex with Ranger the next day; or the other way around. (It wouldn't be advisable for my well-being)

One day I'm going to have to decide whether I want to slip into what I know or venture into the unknown. (a.k.a. marry the best ass in Trenton or ride away with Batman)

One day Wonder Woman is going to have to hang up her lasso because her arthritis is bad.

One day I will pass on chocolate cake for the healthier soy cheesecake. (Yeah, when hell freezes over)

Anyway, my point is. That one day. I'm going to have to make choices. It's okay to live in the denial and I'll-deal-with-it-later world in which I usually reside, but somday… I'm going to be forced to join the outside world.

And for the past three days, I've been wallowing, trying to figure out a way to avoid ever having to.

The wallowing has led me to another conclusion, and even bigger one:

I won't be able to.

One day a choice will have to be made, lucky for me, that day is today. ;) )