I do not own anything...or make any money (Other wise my bank account would be much bigger)

Chapter 5

After breakfast, we all trudged to the mats. I taught her a few new tactics on how to get out of several holds. Like when some one grabs your wrist, or has your hands behind your back. There are many different holds and ways to get out of them, so I taught her the best ways, for the most common holds then taught her the basics of getting out of any hold. Knowing where they're holding you, then how to or not to turn or twist to get free. She seemed to get it.

By the time the hour was up, she had mastered the common holds and I had tested a few less common ones on her. She quickly pulled and twisted, pressing the pressure point on the under side of my wrist to weaken the grip, then twisting free.

It was time for guns. I led her to the gun range, grabbing two bottles of water on the way. I introduced a new gun and taught her about it. It was something that I had picked up on. She was better and more comfortable with a gun when I told her about it. How it worked, how to hold it and a little about the background. She loaded it, fired it, reeled the target in,examined it, and put a new on on it. Every now and then she would change how she held it a little. Seeing, testing how it affected her aim and time to draw it (as in pull it out,not draw as in pencil draw). She did that a few more times until she had mastered it, then I had her go back to a few different ones that she was struggling with.

Practice time went pretty smooth as well. She went back over everything that we had done, that day or that week and practiced it a little more. She even did a little more with the lock picking and asked some questions about driving stuff.

Two months passed and she was showing signs of improvement. In her physical form. Mentally though. I think she was deteriorating. She hadn't done any more REALLY long runs, but she was still having the nightmares and despite my best efforts, she was loosing it. Hell, I was loosing it. I had came in, armed but still wearing my boxers, to see her sitting upright panting with tears streaming down her cheeks. I asked a question and she avoided it or lied. No matter my best techniques (and Tanks) we could not get her to tell us. At night she was totally different. Once she entered her room after dinner, she would shower and as far as we knew, go to sleep. Soon, she started locking her door at night, so that when we entered, she was showering. Tricky little thing she is. One night, she wouldn't stop screaming for help, like she was stuck in the dream, and me and Tank ended up breaking the door open. But of course, she bounced questions back. See, you'd think that it would be easier for us now that the door was somewhat broken, but no. She fixed it. Yeah, Stephanie Plum, fixing a lock. We had gone out to town as usual to get food for the week, and she stopped in at a hardware store. When we got back, she sat down and fixed the damn door. She replaced the hinges,and added new locks.

I set myself to work in the kitchen making dinner. It was just after four and she had already retreated to her room for a shower. Tank of course, stayed with me. "Hows she doin' man?"

He knew how she was doing. Shit, thats how she was doing shit. "Mentally or physically?" I remarked dryly.

"Mentally you dip shit."

"Watch it." I warned before continuing. "Not good. Physically, she fine, but she's still having nightmares and she's to the point where she's blocking us out. Can you believe that she fixed her fucking door?"

"Never though I'd see the day."

I tossed a few thing in the pan for a simple stir fry and continued stirring. "I think I'm going to have a little heart to heart with her tonight."

He snorted. "Good luck with that."

Yeah, good luck with that...

Steph entered a just as I finished setting the table, with a smile. It didn't reach her eyes, and it was fake, but at least it was a start. "So whats for dinner?" She asked plunking her self down in a chair.

"Stir fry." I responded easily.

"Healthy?" She asked with little hope.

"Babe."

She sighed. "It was worth a try."

I smiled to myself, this was the real her, being hopeful that it was unhealthy.

Tank plopped down next to her and I served the plates before seating myself on her other side. The rest of dinner was quiet and when done, we all put our dishes in the dishwasher and excused our selves. At least Steph did. Tank waited in the kitchen, but I followed after her. "I think we need to talk babe." I said calmly to her. I nudged her in, and shut the door. "Sit down." I said, giving her a gentle shove onto the bed.

"Look, I'm busy-"

"Stop." I said simply, but efficiently shutting her up. " Don't lie to me, it's useless." I stated. I had lost patience the first six times she lied to me.

She sighed and pulled her legs up on the bed. "Okay, what do you want?"

"The truth Steph. I want to help you. Because being here, I'm your teacher, mentally and physically. That means that if your suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, then I need to take care of it, because it's what I do. If not because I love you, then because I'm your mentor."

I watched her as I said this, eyes locked, but by the end, she had broken eye contact and shifted her gaze somewhere else. Pretty much anywhere else. Her cheeks tinted pink slightly.

I pulled up a chair and sat in front of her and sat in it, then tipped her chin up so that we were looking in each others eyes. "Steph, don't be embaressed. PTSD is very common and I know what it's like, as does Tank. Your not in this alone. Let us help you. Let me help you." I pleaded.

"I-I don't want help though." She whispered, once again breaking eye contact.

"Then don't want it. We will help you get through this. We will make you get through this." I said grabbing her chin again and tilting it back up. "What do you dream of Steph? What makes you scream at night?" What makes you scream my name at night?

"Nothing..." She mumbled trying to look away again.

"I said not to lie to me." I said, keeping her chin in place."What Steph? What makes you that scared?"

"Slayers...Scrog...Ramirez...Abruzzi...Stiva, all of them. They're all there." She whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. Her eyes took a distant look. "The guy in Mo's bathroom who died, Clyde and even that skip...Morris Munson who wanted to convince people he was crazy by cutting off my nipple and setting me on fire."

The last part made me freeze. "What?" Morris Munson? I remember her having him as a skip when I was accused of murder...but I knew nothing of him wanting to cut off her... and set her on fire. "Steph? Did he say that?"

"Yeah." She said with a humor less laugh. "He was the guy who I shot in the foot right before you came in and tackled you. Then before we could get to the freak-nasty on the floor my Grandma woke up. I remember exactly what he said, only because I'm constantly reminded though. First it was 'Now all I have to do is carve you up and set you on fire, and I'm home free', then seconds later, he continued saying 'I thought I'd just stab you a couple times to make it look good. Maybe cut off a nipple.' He had said." She seemed to be out in her own little world.

"So you see all of them?" I asked changing the subject.

"Yep."She replied dryly.

"Steph, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't help you sooner, or see it to help it."

"It's okay. Not your fault. I was the fuck up that kept attracting them all."

"Hey!" I growled loudly, looking her dead in the eye. "You are not, a fuck up."

"Yeah...okay."

"Steph..."I started. How to say that she needed therapy...

"No." She stated, taking me out of thought. "I do not need mental therapy...or a-a phycologist." She hopped up off the bed and started pacing, very obviously getting angrier. "You think I'm crazy...I can see it in your eyes, the way you think is predictable Ranger. I am not going to have a phycologist tell me that I'm crazy. I'm not crazy...I'm not. It's just nightmares, like a kid, I got nightmares as a kid...It wasn't my fault, it's not. I'm not crazy, it wasn't my fault." She repeated. "I couldn't help stumbling over them. I-I didn't want to stumble over dead bodies or guys robbing stores on bikes. It wasn't my fault!"

She was sobbing by now, she had stopped pacing and she was...just, sobbing.

I stood and walked over to her, catching her before she hit the ground and pulling her to the bed. I sat down and pulled her onto mylap, turning her side ways. "Steph. Going to a phsycologist would be your choice okay? I wouldn't make you go anywhere." Unless I deemed absolutely neccisary. "I also happen to know that it wasn't your fault, I know that, and you aren't crazy. Just, stop jumping to conclusions. I was thinking about it, but I hadn't even finished thinking it before you were ranting. I want to try and help you first. Then we can go to more drastic measures. I don't want this to get so bad that it affects your preformance. okay?"

She nodded. "Sorry."

"It's okay babe. Now, it's nearly" I looked at my watch and it had 20:29 wrtien on it. That makes it 8:29pm. Wow, time flies. It had been an hour and a half already."eight thirty, so lets watch a movie or something." I suggested. It was really the only thing to do.

"Ghostbusters?" She asked perking up.

I smiled. "Deal."

Okay, I have a thing for cheesy endings. This isn't the end of the story or anything, just the end of the chapter. :D Hope you liked it, this story is mainly giving me ideas for all the others. :D:D

R&R

Peanut16