Author: Feather (Flightf)

Warnings: Spoilers all the way through Twelve Sharp.

Disclaimers: I own nothing…JE owns it all….I will return everything when I am finished

Rating (K-M) PG

A/N: This was a challenge sent by the Twelve Sharp group. 'Ranger in the hospital of any point of view.'

This is my first fanfic and the first thing I have tried to write since college…So go easy on me.

I could hear the constant beep of the monitors. It was a comforting sound. A sound that told me that he was still alive. His skin typically a rich mocha color was pasty and pale. He had bandages on his neck, his shoulder, his ribs; he was battered and bruised, and my heart ached for him.

I silently looked at his face; his eyelashes lying against his cheek; his nose, and his mouth. I had never really taken the time to study him. He had always just been a part of my life; a distant yet stable pillar that I knew would be there. I knew that my hair, my skin, and my eyes all had come from him but, until that week, that is all I would say that we had in common.

Until that week, I would have never called him my father; my mom and dad called him Carlos; my grandmother calls him names that I am not supposed to say or know. Me, I called him Ranger. I had always known that he was my biological father, but those are just words. Every birthday and Christmas the gifts would arrive; they were always nice but impersonal; the cards were just always signed Ranger. Every month a check would come in the mail, and a couple of times a year he would come to visit. He was polite and kind, but there was always a wall between us. There were never any words of love. He was never my father, until last night.

The sound of the door opening and a nurse coming in brought me out of my own thoughts and for the first time tonight I looked at the other people in the room. By the windows sat Tank; he has been appointed my personal guard until my parents arrive from Miami. I had seen him from a distance before but this is my first contact with him. He makes me feel safe, and for that I am thankful.

Across from me on the other side of my father sat Stephanie. Her wild Brown curls have been pulled into a ponytail; tears were falling silently down her cheeks from big blue eyes. Her hands were slightly stroking my father's cheek. Earlier, she had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt from one of the guys…So the shirt fell to about mid thigh and the pants had to be rolled at the waist.

It's hard to believe that just earlier that week, this woman gave me the courage to change my destiny. I wonder if she knows how much she changed my life.

When Scrog had my leg shackled to the bed I was so scared. All I could think about was "Please don't kill me". When he kept talking about bringing me a mother and her name was Stephanie, I had no clue who he was talking about or why he considered her my mother.

The first day, I looked around to see if I could get out of the leg shackles, and when I failed a part of me gave up. So I sat in that dingy motor home and cried. I lost track of time, if it was night or day, I lost a little bit of myself.

When Scrog handed me the phone and Stephanie asked me if I was okay, I really didn't know what to say. When he walked through the door with a woman, with her butt crack hanging out of her pants, the only thing I could do was stare at her, but when she kicked him in the head and then again in the side it gave me the courage to know that I could fight back, and that I would. The part of me that the fear had killed came back to life.

I didn't get my chance until I was coming out of a drugged state, I sat as still as I could, waiting for Scrog to make a move. When Ranger walked into the room, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He looked at Stephanie in the eyes, I could see them deepen, and then he looked at Scrog. When Scrog started shooting I was frozen, and I realized that Ranger loved me enough to die for me, and I didn't really know him. From that point on I let survival instincts take over. Before last night I would never have imagined that I would have shot a man and feel nothing but relief.

"His vitals are good and he should be waking up soon, let me know if you need anything," the nurse told us, as she changed the IV bag.

Stephanie looked up at the nurse and gave her a small smile, "Thanks."

The nurse left the room and we all went back to our own thoughts. You would think that the silence would be uncomfortable, but it was actually soothing. I wrapped my fingers around one of his large hands and laid my head onto the bed. I closed my eyes and I started to drift off to sleep. My mind was full of thoughts of my father and the memories that we have yet to make.