Title: Signs

Author: Robin

Disclaimer: They aren't mine, but y'all knew that.

Warning: This is not my typical fluff. There is violence and angst and Joe doesn't fare so well in this one. I haven't had the inspiration or energy to write for so long, I figured I'd go for it, anyway. Definitely a Babe story.

Rating: R for violence and language. Allow me to apologize in advance for one word in particular that I personally won't utter, but unfortunately fit the situation.

Emergency vehicles surrounded the scene, their blue, red and yellow lights bathing the aftermath of yet another Plum misadventure in a psychedelic swirl. Darkness was falling as I sat on the bumper of the ambulance with an ice pack to my face and I admitted to myself that this one had been a little too close. The paramedics wanted to transport me for my probable concussion, but the officers on the scene wanted to make sure they had the story straight first. At the rate things were going, it was lucky I wasn't bleeding from the head. Well, at one point I had been bleeding from the head, so I guess it's lucky that it stopped.

It should have been a routine takedown. Charlene Moore, age thirty-one, recently divorced, worked at the Shop and Save bagging groceries. Superficially, she and I looked alike, similar in height and weight and her mug shot showed she had lots of brown, curly, big Jersey hair. But the resemblance ended there. At one time Charlene might have been pretty, but now she wore a hard look in her eyes, was missing several teeth and had a long scar across one cheek, all courtesy of her ex-husband, Sam.

Okay, she looked a little scary, but still, the woman had only skipped out on a shoplifting charge, for crying out loud. I mean, she wasn't the type of FTA I called RangeMan for. I figured I'd knock on her door, talk some sense into her and get her down to the cop shop to be rebonded. What could be easier?

What I walked into when I entered her apartment, though, was a nightmare. I should have known better when I saw the door standing slightly open. That's rarely a good thing and my instincts were screaming in warning… a warning, which of course, I completely ignored. Once I was set on a course of action, I plowed forward, inertia or just plain stubbornness keeping me from backing down. Still, I opened the door cautiously with my stun gun in hand.

The apartment was dark, dim light from the shaded windows filtering into the foyer. It was quiet, too, and the pit in my stomach grew. Moving slowly forward, I was not two feet through the door when it slammed behind me and I was hauled back by a pair of thickly muscled arms. Startled, the stun gun slipped from my fingers, clattering uselessly to the floor. Before I could even put up a fight a rough hand clamped over my mouth and another arm banded around me, confining my arms and holding me tightly against the stranger's body.

"I told you that you could never leave me, bitch," the man hissed in my ear. His hatred and hot breath laced with alcohol made me whimper behind the hand while my mind frantically raced to identify him. I hadn't left anyone lately and this man definitely wasn't Dickie Orr. Who could have known I would be here? But then I realized, this must be Charlene's ex-husband, Sam, and in the dim light of the apartment, he thought I was Charlene.

Fuck.

I tried to speak, tried to move, to shake my head to let him know that this was a mistake, but my struggles only enraged him further. Sam's grip tightened, becoming painful and his voice was harsh from behind me, "You stupid fucking cunt, quit fighting. You brought this on yourself. You know you got to be punished for trying to leave me."

He moved his hands to my upper arms in a bruising grip and he slammed me face first into the wall. Pain exploded in my cheek and behind my right eye. I felt the trickle of blood on my forehead. Shaking off my confusion, I fought the seductive draw of darkness. If I passed out now, I doubted I'd ever wake up again. I blinked and tried to focus on the pain where Sam held me too tightly. The pain was the only thing that felt real in all of this.

"Did you really think you could live without me?" He shook me as he spoke, the motion causing my head to bounce off the wall. I cried out in pain.

"Cry all you want, Char, it won't help." His laughter echoed through the quiet apartment in cruel satisfaction.

Trapping me against the wall with my wrists pinned over my head, Sam pressed his body up behind me and I could feel the evidence that he was turned on by this brutal domination. My knees buckled under a wave of nausea and only his thick fingers digging into my arms and the press of his groin into my backside kept me from sliding to the floor. Suddenly my fear of dying in this dingy apartment was clouded by fears of a fate even worse.

"You know I'm only doing this because I love you," he crooned in my ear, rubbing himself against me. His lightening fast mood shift leaving me dizzy… or it could have been the head trauma. "I have to teach you that we belong together forever." I shuddered as he began a litany of how he intended to "teach" me, his repulsive lips caressing the skin of the back of my neck, even as his hands continued to punish.

The man was so far gone I was beginning to doubt that my true identity would be any help. "I'm not…" I tried to choke out, but my voice caught on an involuntary sob as Sam banged my head against the wall once more.

"Shut up, bitch," he yelled, and flung me to the ground. Landing on my side, my right shoulder and hip absorbed the brunt of the impact. I stayed there for a stunned moment before rolling over onto my stomach with a moan. I tried to push myself up, but Sam was over me, wrenching my arm out from under me, roughly pulling me by the wrist until he'd flipped me over onto my back.

His features registered shock when he realized that I wasn't Charlene. I could see the questions forming in his brain and I used the moment of surprise to knee him in the balls, pushing him off of me when he collapsed in pain.

My hands madly searched for the discarded stun gun after I'd scrambled out from under him. I found what I was searching for as Sam's hand closed around my ankle and dragged me back to him.

"Fucking lying whore," he roared, his surprise giving way to blind rage at the mistaken identity. He straddled me again, immobilizing my legs with own, and back handed me across the face. My hand flew to my mouth, instinctively trying to shield myself from further pain, while the other gripped the stun gun out of Sam's sight. Dazed but determined, I flipped the switch on the stun gun and I prayed that it hadn't been damaged when I'd dropped it. As he reared back to hit me again, I reached up and pressed the prongs to his neck.

For what seemed like an endless moment Sam's body went rigid, and I couldn't tell if the stun gun had worked or if I'd just infuriated him into shocked silence. Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he slumped over. I frantically pushed at him until his vile body was no longer touching me. Just for good measure I reached out and stunned him again.

Tears were coursing down my face, and I sobbed raggedly as I struggled to my feet. With one eye on Sam's body, I fumbled in the kitchen for a phone. I was afraid that if I looked away for even a moment he would disappear like in one of those horror movies, and attack me again. I found the phone, and I called the police. Afterwards, I slumped to the ground, stun gun in one hand, kitchen knife in the other and I waited for help.

It seemed like I sat in the silent apartment forever, the only sound Sam's labored breathing. Exhaustion pulled at me as the adrenaline rush wore off, but I stayed alert, straining to detect any change in him that would indicate he was coming around.

In reality it was just a few minutes before the cops arrived, Big Dog and Carl the first through the door, guns drawn. Big Dog holstered his gun when he saw that Sam was still unconscious and he had him cuffed in no time. Carl put his gun away then, and squatted down in front of me, gently pulling the weapons from my hands. He spoke soft soothing words that I didn't quite register and I realized I was never happier to see Carl Costanza in my whole life. And I think I might have told him that. I wasn't entirely sure what happened at that point because my mind shifted to autopilot after that. All I knew was they had the bad guy and I was safe.

By the time I was aware of what was going on again, I was sitting on the back bumper of the ambulance with a blanket around my shoulders, holding an ice pack to my face. Evidently I'd walked out of the building under my own power, though I had no memory of it. The paramedic was fussing over me and he asked an officer I didn't know if we were going to need a rape kit.

"No," I answered for him, my voice thready. "He didn't get that far." I shivered at the memory of Sam's body pressing against mine and the threats he'd made, but thanked my lucky stars that I'd survived another close call relatively unscathed.

"I want to get her out of here," the paramedic said. "She needs to go to the hospital for x-rays and she almost certainly has a concussion."

"I'll get the okay from the detective in charge," the officer said disappearing around the side of the truck.

And so I sat, weary to the bone and with every muscle in my body protesting in pain, watching as the emergency lights made patterns on the concrete. I realized this job was probably going to be the death of me someday. Maybe I really should think about calling it quits.

It was a narrow escape. But I was alive and okay and who knows if Charlene would have been so lucky had she made it home before me. I found it hard to believe Charlene could have endured that kind of abuse for as long as she did. Her file had said they were married for five years. Even if he hadn't always been so violent, there had to have been signs. It amazed me what some women put up with from the men who "loved" them.

Those thoughts were spinning through my head when Joe's SUV pulled up to the scene with tires squealing. He was out of the truck almost before he'd stopped and he immediately jogged to my side.

"Cupcake," he said, voice rough with worry, and he wrapped his arms around me. For a moment I leaned into him wanting to soak his strength into me, feeling like mine was all used up. I was surprised, though, to feel him trembling in my arms and I was quick to assure him that I was okay. Suddenly I was the one offering comfort.

"I'm okay, Joe. I'm gonna be okay," I said, patting him softly on his back.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said in a tight voice. I realized that his trembling hadn't just been in fear… it was also barely contained anger. "I wish I could say the same thing about myself. I think I aged a decade on the trip here. Why do you keep doing this to me?"

Still trying to sooth him, I said softly, "I didn't mean to worry you."

I leaned back in his arms to look at him, which was a mistake as Joe got his first view of what had been under the ice pack. Now that he could see the bruising around my eye and cheek, the anger under the surface flared and he lashed out, "You never mean for these things to happen and yet somehow they always do. Damn it, Steph. You might not care if you live or die, but it matters to me."

I hated that I had to defend myself and I was starting to feel irritated that we were heading down this road yet again. I might have been sitting here hating my job, but I guess in the end I loved my freedom more. I wondered for a moment if my determination to do this was mostly just an effort to defy Joe. "It wasn't my fault," I said defensively.

"Your fault or not, you have no business doing this job. How long is it going to take for you to see that you aren't cut out for it?" His voice was harsh and he'd leaned down so that we were almost nose to nose.

"I can't believe that you are doing this right now," I hissed, not wanting to draw any more attention. Curious looks were already being thrown our way. "Can't this wait until after we've handled the small matter of my concussion?" In my irritation, I slapped the ice pack back on my face and winced. Ouch.

"You know I'm only doing this because I love you," he gritted out. My heart stopped beating for a moment. His words were an eerie echo of Sam's and the similarity made a shiver chase down my spine. "I just want you to learn that you can't keep letting these things happen to you. And I don't know how else to get through to you, Stephanie."

Well, this wasn't the way to do it. With Joe on the rampage, I felt the need to defend my job more than ever. It was one thing for me to think about quitting because I was sick of being hurt, but it was another thing for him to act like he had the right to control my life. "It wasn't like I was trying to get attacked, Joe. My skip wasn't that dangerous. Christ, she's a shoplifter. What happened was just a case of wrong place, wrong time." My voice had gotten more strident as I spoke, his temper igniting my own.

"Your damn job takes you to all the wrong places at all the wrong times. When are you going to figure that out?" He had worked himself into the full-on Italian rage and his raised voice was attracting the attention of bystanders and cops alike. "Christ Stephanie, when are you going to stop playing this game and grow up?"

"This isn't a game, and I'm not doing this with you right now," I muttered as I jumped down from the ambulance and started walking away. I'll drive myself to the damn hospital.

Joe reached out with one hand and grabbed me around the upper arm. "We aren't finished here. Don't walk away from me," his voice lower, but no calmer.

"Please Joe, stop," I said and a whimper escaped as his hand dug into the already bruised skin of my upper arm. "You're hurting me."

Joe just stood silently looking at the place where his fingers were squeezing the discolored skin of my arm, muscle ticking in his cheek. His grip eased, but he didn't release me.

"Joe—"

"Let go of her. Now." The voice came from over my shoulder with quiet authority and not a small measure of menace. It was Ranger.

I turned my head toward him. Ranger's face was characteristically stoic, but I could tell in the tight set of his jaw that he was angry.

"Stay out of this Manoso," Joe said, his voice low and tight, eyes glittering black with antipathy. "This is between me and Steph. Besides, you're half the reason she in this situation. If you hadn't supported this bounty hunting nonsense, Steph would have given up a long time ago. It's like she's got to prove something to you."

"Morelli," Ranger completely ignored Joe's comments, his voice steely with purpose, "I'm not going to say it again. Let go of her."

"Come on, Joe, let go," Carl Costanza said calmly, laying his hand on Joe's forearm. Carl, having witnessed the interchange must have correctly predicted that the situation could easily spiral out of control. Again I found myself happy to see Carl and I was hopeful that the ugly scene would come to an end without Ranger and Joe coming to blows.

Joe looked down at where his hand still held my arm like he'd forgotten what he was doing. He let go of me as if he'd been burned. In a choked voice, he said, "God, I'm sorry Steph, I was so worried…I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to hurt you."

I rubbed my arm absently and looked at Joe, suddenly seeing him in a new light. Softly, I said, "No, Joe, you didn't mean to, but somehow you always do."

Joe looked down at the ground unable to meet my eyes, running a hand through his hair. When Carl pulled on his arm, Joe followed him wordlessly. Carl spared a small, sympathetic smile for me and nodded to Ranger before leading Joe away from us.

"Will you drive me to the hospital?" I asked Ranger without looking at him, my eyes still following Joe's retreating form. Tears threatened to fall as the events of the day started to close in and I realized something important. Sometimes the signs are there and you're just too blind to see them. Today I felt like I was seeing things for the first time.

Ranger's voice intruded on my thoughts, "Of course I'll drive you, Babe. Come on." He placed his hand gently on the small of my back and guided me to his Porsche.

Opening the door for me, he helped my settle into the seat then jogged around to the driver's side. When I made no move to buckle myself in, he leaned across to do it for me. When he was done, he didn't move away and I looked up at him in question.

"Babe, why do you let him…?" he whispered, tucking a strand of hair gently behind my ear.

I felt the swell of tears again, but I forced them down. I looked away, out the window before I answered. "I guess I didn't see before today what I was letting him do." My voice was shaky, but already by admitting it out loud, I felt determined and somehow stronger. Today was the last day I would allow any man to treat me like that. I looked back at Ranger, holding his eyes with mine and said, "I didn't realize what it meant. Now I do."

Ranger continued to stare at me in the dim interior of the car, finding confirmation of my new resolve in my gaze, steady on his.

He smiled slightly, "I'm proud of you, Babe." The glow that I always felt in response to those words filled me and I managed to smile back.

"You always say that, you know," I said, wonder and disbelief tinting the words.

"It's true," he said simply. He sat back in his seat and turned over the ignition, but I stopped him from putting the car in gear with a hand on his arm.

"Do you think I'm trying to prove myself to you?" Despite everything, Joe's accusation was still bothering me. I didn't like to think that I was living my life to please Ranger anymore than I was living it to defy Joe.

"No," he said cautiously, taking the hand resting on his arm gently in his hand. "Sometimes I think you are trying to prove yourself to you." I nodded, feeling like I could live with that. "Besides," he continued, "with me you have nothing to prove. You impressed me long ago… standing in that shower…wet and cold and brave." His voice was warm with memory and I saw the flash of white teeth when he smiled and added, "And angry and naked."

It had been embarrassing at the time, but now I couldn't help but smile at the memory. "I hadn't thought you'd noticed I was naked. You played it pretty cool."

His laughter rumbled in his chest. "I noticed, Babe, believe me, but I didn't want to make you feel any worse."

Ranger shifted into gear with his left hand and pulled away from the curb, my hand still safe in his right. I leaned my head back against the seat and felt the tension of the day ease out of me. "You wouldn't ever hurt me, would you?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Not for anything," he said seriously, his hand lightly squeezing mine. It was a vow as binding as any I'd ever heard uttered.

"I know," I answered quietly. And I'd always known it… from the moment I called him to help me out of those handcuffs so long ago. He was a good man and he loved me. I could see the signs.