JE owns the rights to anything familiar. All mistakes are mine...and if you find any, please point them out so I can fix them.

So, it's been a while. Life and some unfortunate health issues have kept me from writing much but I'm trying to get back into the swing of it with this story. I hope to get all three I have pending updated soon as well. Thanks in advance to anyone who gives this one a shot.

And special thanks to LilyGhost. This wouldn't have been finished, if not for you.

She is still so beautiful, even from across the busy street I can see that. Her curly brown hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail and it is longer than I've ever seen it, dipping well into the middle of her back. My eyes skim the soft curve of her neck and I imagine I can smell the light hint of her jasmine perfume. What I wouldn't give to taste her there, to have the sensitive skin just below her ear beneath my tongue.

I can almost see the top of her shoulder before it's hidden from my lustful gaze by the line of her shirt. I am shocked she can't feel the intensity of my stare but I'm grateful she doesn't so I can continue my relentless scrutiny.

When I close my eyes I can almost feel her next to me, her skin warm and smooth. Welcoming. I can picture her wild hair spilled out around her face, her full lips, anxious for mine to meet them. But it's her eyes that really cut right through me. I think I could lose myself forever in those endless blue depths.

But not today. The sun is bright and high in the sky and Stephanie is wearing sunglasses. She's enjoying brunch with Lula and they are sitting at a small table outside, so I am lucky this time and can watch her from a safe distance.

She tilts her head and smiles at something Lula has said. The smile is easy and natural and I long to be the one sitting there. I want her to smile at me, the way she once did.

I wonder what it would take to be in her life again. I always wonder this. It's useless to even think about it, I know this, but I wonder anyway. What would she do if I walked up to her right now? Would she recoil in horror at the accused murderer? Would she hate me, demand I leave her alone? Would she shrug a shoulder with indifference or knit her brow, trying to recall if she knows who I am?

Would I still see my soul in her eyes?

You need to stop torturing yourself like this.

I ignore the voice in my head because I can't stop. I never could where Stephanie was concerned.

Normally, I only allow a few hours to watch, a day at the most, but I've been tailing her for three weeks now. I even shadowed her to all the way to New York this time and I really shouldn't be here, it's too dangerous. I should have never come back but I had to see her. I needed to see her. I can't make myself leave. I tell myself over and over to stop, to go and not return…yet I don't.

I can't.

I think, as she rises to her feet, I could follow her forever.

They are leaving now, and my body tenses in anticipation, ready to go in any direction she chooses. There is a small hope she is going back to her hotel room. When she is there, inside and safe, I can rest. Maybe even sleep for a while. I don't remember the last time I slept and I am tired.

So very tired.

A hint of regret sets in as she moves up Broadway, away from the hotel and towards Times Square, expertly weaving through the throngs of people filling the street. I mirror her from the opposite side, focusing on the swing of her ponytail as it brushes lightly across her back, on the sway of her hips as her long legs carry her to the next destination.

I'm so consumed with not losing sight of her I almost miss a second set of eyes intent on her every step.

I shouldn't be, but I'm stunned by the man in black thirty feet behind her. He's too close, almost as if he doesn't care if she picks up on the obvious tail. The abruptness of his appearance is a distraction and nearly makes me stumble.

A shot of panic zips through my veins and I have to dodge out of the way of an angry woman carrying a screaming child. For longer than I'm comfortable, I surrender my range of view. When I'm back on course, I find her again and almost completely blow everything out of the water.

She and Lula have stopped in front of a store selling cheesy trinkets and cheap souvenirs and Lula is gesturing to something in the display. I've gone too far and for a single heartbeat, my reflection is clear in the window into which they are peering.

It's too much to hope she doesn't notice and I duck into the closest shop just as her head starts to turn. My heart is racing so fast I fear it will beat its way right out of my chest as I press myself against the wall, away from the window, ignoring the irritated glances from the clerk at the counter serving hungry New Yorkers pizza.

The internal war inside my head keeps me frozen in time. I'm torn with the desire to continue on as I had been, watching from a distance, never taking my eyes off of her, and the knowledge it's long past time to go.

I can't risk her discovering I'm here. It could put us all in jeopardy including her other shadow and he might be inclined to do some serious damage on his own if he finds out I've resurfaced.

I need to leave.

And yet my feet resolutely stick to the worn linoleum floor. I quit breathing when I spot a mass of brown hair approaching the door. It would be just like her, tenacious almost to a fault, but it is not Stephanie and I exhale on slow count. I wait another five minutes, then ten, until I'm sure she has moved on, hopefully brushing it off as nothing more than a trick of the light.

She is gone when I emerge back out onto the street and I feel the despair leaking into my bones as I automatically scan the last spot I saw her.

With one final, hopeful look through the crowd of thousands busy with their own lives and problems, I turn away and come face to face with the man who had been following in her wake.

Never one to mince words, he gets right to the concern at hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

The ire is quick to surface. It rushes in my ears and I shake my head as if to dislodge it. I'm angry with him, with the situation, with myself for being careless enough to be noticed, by both of them.

"Not here," I respond, with a subtle glimpse over my shoulder. "Meet me in thirty."

I don't give a location because if he's good he'll know where to find me. And I know he's good; he was trained by the best.

Darting around him, I take off and disappear at the next intersection. I'll have to double back but I don't care. I should go now, hop the first train to anywhere; it's what he'll be expecting. Yet he'll wait for me anyway, at least a quarter past the instructed time, maybe longer. It's the way he is.

But I don't leave. I can't.

I have to know. About him. About her. Always about her.

I catch the next subway train and purposely go two stops past where I need to be. I don't think he has anyone else here with him but I have to be sure.

My six is clean all the way back to the pub on 4th and I slip inside, finding the last open booth at the back wall with a perfect site line to the door. It isn't even noon and the place is packed; the better not to be overheard. I order bourbon to keep up pretenses and the waitress leaves it on the table just as he enters the bar. As usual, the man turns heads for those brave enough to chance a closer look. I track each step until he slides in across from me.

He doesn't say anything and waves the waitress away when she appears to take his order. We sit and we stare until he can no longer stand it.

"A fucking year. I haven't heard from you in a fucking year. I thought you were dead and now you show up here, where…she saw you, you know that, right? And last time, at that fucking wedding? She always knows. Jesus, Ranger."

He runs a hand over his bald head and lets out an exasperated breath. It was a lot for him all at once. Tank has never been much of a talker.

"You said you would stop, you said…there's still an active contract on your head and yet…you used to be smarter than this." He picks up my drink and tosses the whole thing down his throat. "You look like shit, by the way. When's the last time you slept?"

I almost smile at the rambling; it's very un-Tank like. "Don't remember. I asked you to look after her, not stalk her across state lines." When I discovered where she was headed, I made arrangements to arrive before her and so didn't know he was with her until I saw him on the street. I had to grudgingly admit I was impressed. I hadn't caught a hint of him for two days.

"Oh, you want to have a stalking discussion? She's aware I'm here, what about you?"

This time I grin.

"Are they still putting men on her?"

The last time I'd surfaced, at her sister's wedding over a year ago, I spotted one of Ramos' henchmen at the reception. I handled it and was sure no one would ever find the body. It was also the night I made a promise to myself and to him, again, I would stop. That obviously worked out well.

"Not for a long time," he replies and lifts the empty glass at the harried waitress as she rushes by. I think I catch an eye roll from her at the signal but I can't be sure. "That doesn't mean I should or would let her come here by herself."

I nod in thanks. It's why I tasked him with her safety. I knew he'd protect her at all costs or die trying.

The waitress drops off his refill and I ask the only thing I really want to know. "How is she?"

A sigh escapes before he takes a sip. "She misses you."

"Still?"

"Always and if you don't know that, you really are a fucking idiot."

I'd been making a conscious effort my entire adult life not to say or do stupid things and for the most part, I was successful, except when it came to Stephanie. I was a fucking idiot where she was concerned and we both knew it.

I reach into my pocket and find the small silver hoop, curling my fingers around it. She'd been wearing the earring the last time I'd been able to touch her. The last time my lips had been able to taste her. I'd found it days later, wedged in the seam on the passenger seat of my car and for three years it's not left my possession. A talisman of sorts, centering me when it all becomes too much.

"Why did she come to New York?"

The pause before he responds is a breath too long and it makes the hair uncomfortably rise at the back of my neck. "Just a vacation. She said she needed a break from the burg, her mother, Vinnie. Can't really blame her on that one."

Tank has always been a horrible liar; can't ever keep eye contact. His gaze darts around the bar and I bring his focus back. "You were supposed to discourage her. These people are fucking dangerous."

"And you following her all over town and then to another state is helping the cause? How long have you been at it this time?" He knows I won't answer and polishes off the last of the bourbon.

"She needs to give it up, Tank. I should have never involved her in the first place but if they get even a hint she's still looking into it…"

The filthy look tells me what he really thinks but he replies, "I know. And she knows too. And you know how hard it is to get Stephanie to stop anything when she's determined."

I do know and its part of what attracted me to her in the first place but I couldn't take it if something happened to her, especially because of me. "Please, Tank. I'm close and I need to know she isn't in harm's way."

He's taken aback, not used to the word please coming from my mouth. "How close?"

For three years I've been trying to prove Homer Ramos wasn't the body shot and burned in that building and finally have a lead that might pay off. Tank has been helping when he can and I have no doubt of his ability to look after himself, but while he also has eyes on her, I've kept most of it close to the vest.

He's not surprised by the vague reply.

"Very."

Tank stares me down before he eventually gives me a single nod. "I'll try again to get her to back off and I'll make sure no one gets close to her but you have to quit the random appearances. The whole point of you leaving from the beginning was to keep everyone safe so showing up isn't helping anybody. In fact, it's making it worse for both of you so go and stay the fuck away until you have what you need to come home, permanently."

He slides his massive frame out of the booth and looms large above me, casting a shadow over the table. "And make it quick, this has gone on way too long."

He's right. I know he's right and not a day has gone by I haven't told myself the same thing. A few beats later I set out to do as he instructed. The train station isn't far. I have a car and supplies at a safe house in Philly, I just have to get on the train.

I'm two blocks away. Only two blocks. I have to cross the street that houses her hotel, but I can do it. Tank is right, I need to go. I can do this.

One more time, is what I say as I pull open the lobby door. Just one last time and then I'll go. If I can just smell her one more time. If I can just touch something of hers one more time, be connected to her in some small way one more time it will be enough.

I take the stairs to her room on the fifth floor. I'm lucky and the hall is deserted when I step out. My hands are on the door and I slide out the key card I'd swiped the second I'd learned her room number. Don't do this, my mind screams. The lock clicks open and I ease into her space.

One last time, I say. I almost believe the lie.

The sense of her overwhelms me as step inside and look around. Jasmine. Always jasmine. Her perfume, her lotion. There is a pair of heels under the coffee table of the small sitting room and a sweater draped over the back of the couch. Without a thought it's in my hand and I bring it to my cheek. I close my eyes and she is here with me, her hair brushing lightly across my face.

I know I don't have a lot of time, she could be back at any second but I step into the bedroom anyway, telling myself I won't be long. The bed has been neatly made by the housekeeping staff but I imagine her there, between the soft white sheets, her head nestled against the crook of my neck as I hold her close.

My hand drifts across the suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed as I wander to the bathroom. The scent of her here is almost too much for me to handle. I hear her name fall as a soft moan from my lips. I lean against the wall and my eyelids slip closed as I imagine her in the shower. Water rolling down her body, over her breasts, down her calves.

I brace my palms on the counter and wonder how I could have ever let her go, how I could have left her. What was I thinking? What would it have been like if I'd told her before I left, if I'd told her how I feel? Would she have wanted to come with me when I said I was going?

My heart aches at the possibilities.

I find myself back in the bedroom and the bed looks so comfortable, inviting, and I am so very tired. How long has it been since I've slept? Days? Weeks? I'll just sit for a minute, just a minute and then I'll go. Just one more minute here, with her things, and then I'll go.

I bring the sweater back to my cheek and tell myself it's the last time.

*#*#

I thought I saw him again today. Lula and Tank think I'm crazy and sometimes they're probably right, but not today. I caught a glimpse of him, a reflection in the glass of the window display in that shop on Broadway. It was only a second, maybe less…I know it was him.

It started soon after he left and at first I didn't say anything because everyone knew, if Ranger didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't be seen, end of story. But the more times it happened, the more I couldn't really deny it. It wasn't often and there were always long stretches in between where I'd start to convince myself I had been imaging it and then I'd spot him again. At a stop light in Hamilton township, near the bookshop close to Vinnie's office and once I was sure he'd been in my apartment while I'd slept.

When over a year had gone by without a single sighting I started to fear the worst. Tank told me Alexander Ramos had put out a contract on him and I was terrified someone had fulfilled it…and then a couple of weeks ago I spotted him at church. My mother guilted me into attending mass with the family and at the end, just as we were filing out of the pews, it was if all the air was sucked out of the room and every hair at the back of my neck stood on end. I almost knocked my mother over trying to get to the doors. I'd seen someone with dark hair, dressed all in black, slipping out the front but when I made it outside, he was gone.

Then, last week when I was leaving Pino's with my meatball sub, I swear I saw him driving by. The car was wrong, a beat up, old red pickup, but it was him at the wheel. I'd know that face anywhere, even in partially shaded silhouette.

Three weeks in a row was unusual so I made Tank go looking for him today, mainly to not have him trailing after me like a lost puppy for a while. I told him I'd be more comfortable if he'd just walk with us, but he is even worse than Ranger ever was in that regard, which is a feat in itself.

Tank has been my shadow pretty much non-stop since Ranger went underground and when it isn't him there's always someone hovering and I wanted be able to walk, just a little while, without feeling eyes on my back.

I needed a minute to myself, just one freaking minute and I didn't think it was too much to ask.

I left Lula at the theater, where we were supposed to see the matinee of Kinky Boots, by feigning a headache. Tank even had her trained well because she wouldn't agree until he texted to say he was on his way and I promised not to go until he arrived.

She gave me a hesitant look over her shoulder but disappeared inside and I heaved a sigh of relief. I texted Tank back and asked him to meet me at the park instead so I could walk. I imagine he did a lot of cursing but after I promised him I had my gun and confirmed it was loaded and I was able to reach it quickly, he reluctantly allowed it and said he'd see me at the park.

It wasn't until I was halfway there I realized I was still looking for Ranger. Pausing at nearly every store window, hoping to see him again. I know it was him, no matter what anyone says. I know he was at my sister's wedding last year too. Tank only did a cursory denial of that one so I'm positive they must have communicated in some way.

But the real question is why? If the risk is so high, why does he keep appearing? And why won't he talk to me? I would give anything to hear his voice one more time. Even if it's just a hello or a whispered, Babe. Anything to let me know he's okay.

Things were just starting to change between us when this whole mess with the Ramos murder happened and now I fear we'll never get the chance to see what that could have been. I wonder sometimes what would have happened if I'd told him how I feel before he left. Would he have tried to stay, or maybe asked me to go with him? What if he never comes back? What if…

I sigh and turn the corner, checking the reflection in the glass as I go by, just in case. I play the what if game way too often anyway.

There are a ton of squirrels and even more people in the park but I spot Tank easily, though he is hard to miss. He's taken up residence on a bench near a statue of Christopher Columbus and his expression is guarded, but I can tell he's scanning every single person as far as he can see for any potential threat. It must be exhausting.

He relaxes slightly when I sit beside him.

"You think I'm crazy, right?" I say and drop my head onto his enormous shoulder.

"All women are crazy, there are just varying degrees."

I laugh, despite the mild insult. "Which degree am I?"

"It's probably best if I don't answer that."

"Chicken. I take it you didn't find any sign of him?"

There's a pause and a slow exhale before he gives the expected answer. "None."

"I saw him, Tank. I know it. I can feel it in my bones when he's close by."

"I know."

"You do?"

"Everybody does. I'm hungry, you want to get some pizza?"

I've learned a lot about Tank in the past three years, like he's hungry all the time, he has a brother named Ozzy, to whom he doesn't speak; he owns three cats and he changes the subject when he's uncomfortable or when he's lying.

I think this time is a little of both.

I sigh again, something I've also been doing too much of lately. "I really thought this lead would pan out. I know Homer Ramos is alive, it was him I saw at their compound, I'm sure of it. Sorry I dragged you all the way here for nothing." If Homer Ramos was alive, that would mean the police have nothing on Ranger and he can come home, but I'd yet to be able to prove it.

"It was worth checking out but…"

"Is this where you give me the speech about it being too dangerous and we should give up?"

Now he sighs. "Will it do any good this time?"

"No." I will never give up trying to clear Ranger's name, no matter what he or anyone says.

"That's what I thought. Let's get out of here, these squirrels are giving me the creeps. Look, they aren't afraid of people."

He points to a big fat one, eating right out of someone's outstretched hand. "You aren't afraid of who feeds you either," I say. "Let's go get some pizza."

We eat and then I talk him into seeing the new movie starring the Rock. Lula calls to check in and says she's going shopping at New York's version of Pleasure Treasures. We decline the invitation to join her.

Tanks takes my hand as we navigate the crowded streets back to the hotel. He clears the way and I trail behind, clinging to his fingers and scanning every face for any hint of Ranger, even knowing he's long gone by now.

It's a surprise when Tank agrees, without any argument, to take the elevator to our floor and not the stairs and it's also a surprise when he lets me enter my room without first exploring every inch for the boogeyman, but the biggest surprise of all is his confession before he disappears inside his own room.

"I believe you, Steph, that you saw him today. I believe you. I saw him too."

He is gone too quickly and I am too stunned to reply. I open my door and am smacked in the face by the feeling of him. Ranger. Ranger is here, in my room! Goose bumps rise along with every hair on my body. I can smell him; I can feel him.

What is he doing here? Why now? What's happened? Oh god, what if he's hurt?

I race to the bedroom and stop dead in my tracks. I can almost hear my heart breaking at what I find there. He is sound asleep, curled on his side in the middle of the bed. Light is spilling in from the open bathroom door and I can see he is clutching my sweater.

The tears start before I can think to stop them. He is too thin, his cheekbones protruding in an unfamiliar way and there is a two, maybe three-day stubble growing over skin that is way too pale. Even from this distance I can see the dark circles under his eyes and I can't help wondering what has happened that he's stopped taking care of himself.

I sit on the bed, startled it doesn't wake him. How long has it been since he slept? I stare, all coherent thought fleeing my brain. Ranger is here, in my room. In my bed.

The tears continue to fall as I remember the last time he was this close, the last time I was able to touch him. Three years, six days, four hours. My wet eyes drift closed remembering the feel of his lips on mine, his fingers curled in my hair.

When they open again I realize my hand is on his. I want to hold him. I want so badly to hold him and say all the things I didn't before he left. My lips brush across his forehead and he softly moans my name but doesn't wake.

Half of me knows I should call Tank for help but I don't. I can't, not when he so obviously needs to rest.

I curve my body behind his and draw him close, wrapping my arms around his skinny frame.

*#*#*

I'm still half-asleep and hesitant to open my eyes. I stretch, internally wincing at the clicks and pops of my joints. I don't remember the last time I've felt so rested. I wonder briefly where I am and if maybe I can stay for a while.

The sound of a toilet flushing brings me fully and violently awake. The knowledge of where I am assaults me physically and I can't breathe. Waves of panic rush over me and then the bathroom door opens and she is there.

Stephanie.

I have a dim memory of holding her, of clinging to her while I slept, the soft brush of her lips against my forehead, warm and soothing, but that was a dream. Wasn't it? I shake my head to clear it, hoping it's a dream. I haven't dreamt of anything but her in years so why would today be any different?

She is still there and leans in the doorway, eyeing me tentatively, and then she says my name and my heart shatters.

"Ranger."

"Is this a dream?" I ask, knowing full well it isn't. How long have I been here? How could I have been so fucking stupid? My eyes find the clock. 4am. Fuck. I've been here all night.

"Not a dream. Are you okay? Are you hungry? You don't look like you've eaten much lately. I can go get us some food."

I stand up and realize I'm still holding her sweater. I drop it and run a trembling hand through my hair.

"I have to..."

"Don't," she cuts me off and I notice she's wearing one of my old Rangeman t-shirts. My mind wanders, wondering how long she's had it, when she took it. "Don't say you have to go."

"I do," I tell her. "I shouldn't have come here…"

"Don't," she says again and then she is crossing the room. "Don't leave."

"Babe." It's all I can think to say as her arms slide around my waist. Her face tilts up so she can see mine and her eyes burn into me. That endless, fiery blue. How many times have I dreamt of being able to look into them one more time? How many days, weeks, years have I spent imagining this exact moment? But I will hurt her, just being here, making her see me this way will hurt her and I know I should leave. Yet the heat radiating off of her is driving away the bitter cold inside. I feel warm for the first time in years and I can't make myself move.

My arms tighten around her, drawing her closer. Her eyes are locked on mine and then my mouth is on hers and the world falls away. There is nothing but her and I am in heaven. My fingers are in her hair, holding her to me. Our mouths, tongues, lips exploring every inch. I marvel that she tastes the same. How can she taste the same after all this time? But she does, exactly the same as if the intervening years had never happened. My hands find their way under her shirt to caress the skin of her back. It's just as I remember. Just as I imagined all those times since our one night together. Soft, silky. And so warm. She clutches me tighter even as she moves us to the bed, unable or unwilling to let me leave this time.

We fall onto the mattress and her hands do as mine have, slipping under my shirt. My head is spinning as the heat from her touch spreads through my whole body. I remember those hands; the things they did to me the last time we were together. The only time we were together. I moan softly when she moves her mouth to my neck.

Somewhere, in the distance, my mind gives a warning. Screams at me to stop, to resist the pull of her.

But I won't. I can't.

I never could where Stephanie is concerned.

It is nearly sunrise when we are finally sated and I can't take my eyes off of her. I hold her close, absorbing the heat of her, letting the hint of jasmine wash over me. Luxuriating in the touch of her skin to mine. The even rhythm of her breathing tickles my chest as she exhales and my gaze traces the line of her arm draped across my body.

I know she is fighting the darkness threatening to carry her into sleep. She's doesn't want to sleep now, afraid I'll be gone when she wakes. "You could stay, Ranger," she whispers, losing the battle for consciousness. "Stay and let me help. We can do this together."

I hug her to me, inhaling the gentle spice of her hair. Every instinct I have is telling me to go and leave her in peace but for once, I don't.

I can't.

Stephanie is my love, my life. How could I ever dream of leaving her?

*#*#

"Did he tell you anything?" Tanks asks as I sip my orange juice. "Anything at all about the lead he's following?"

It's the third time he's asked and my answer is still the same but I tell him again. "Nope. He didn't say much of anything at all, Tank."

Except that he loved me and he'd be back as soon as he could. And not to worry, like that's even a possibility. But that isn't what Tank wants to hear.

It was exactly what I wanted to hear, and though I wish he would have stayed, I can't say I wouldn't have done the same if our positions were reversed. It's part of who Ranger is, protecting the people close to him and I can't fault him for that.

Though, I'm not going to stop trying to uncover the truth.

I never could where Ranger was concerned.