AN: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed Epiphany, I loved hearing your thoughts. My muse has been working well lately, so I have been posting on Its Not OK, but I got ideas that I just had to write here too! Hope you enjoy.
By the way, if you struggle with Ranger's conversation here, I suggest a few shots of tequila! ;-D

As always, JE is just letting me play…


Contemplations

Ranger raised his head slowly off the table, where he had been resting it, and looked up blearily as his apartment door opened. He made out two bulky black-clad shapes moving towards him. He tried to focus his wavering vision, and squinted at the larger, darker outline until a vague realisation came to him that this was Tank.

His head spun as he shifted focus to the other blurry outline, and he paused to allow the world to stop spinning. Eventually, he tried to remember what he was doing…

Oh yeah, who came into my apartment? Wait, someone was in my apartment! Maybe I should get my gun? Not sure if I could fire it though, world is still a bit spinny.

The other outline spoke and he vaguely recognised Lester's voice, "Ella was right. Completely wasted. Drunk off his ass."

Blurry Tank-shape agreed, looking at the empty bottle of tequila plus the one with about another half missing, "Not sure I've ever seen him quite this wasted, and we've both seen him after FUBAR missions."

Ranger tried to weigh into the conversation, "Ish a fubrar mishnen. Toden…tolally frubar."

Tank and Lester looked at each other. Lester asked, "What's got you so screwed up, primo?"

"She had pip…pif…pif-nee. She shaid see…she my fut-toy. Not my fut-toy. My fw…fend."

Lester whispered to Tank, "Pif-nee? Fut-toy?" Tank shook his head in equal confusion.

"She shaid Mow…Molelly and me make her our fut-toy. She shaid he…she's a worless sw…swut. Not worless. Not my swu…slut. My fwend. My bess fwend. Like Dan…Dank an' Lessa. And… Bob…Bob-ny."

Ranger looked very sad, "But she dinna buw…blieve me. Said she was my fut-toy. Then she had 'nuver pif-nee. Molelly fut-toy too. Mowelly 'n' me ushe her ash fut-toy an' frow her 'way."

Lester and Tank struggled to follow this garbled explanation. Lester tried to translate, "So Steph? Steph said she's a worthless slut? And Morelli and you made her your… fuck toy? And you… use her and throw her away?"

Ranger nodded, then tried to grab at the table to stead himself as the world spun again. But he missed the table and started to slide sideways off the chair. Tank jumped forward and grabbed at him before he fell over.

"Fanks," Ranger said. "Tol' her not my fut-toy. Maybe coneny…comenient fuck for Molelly but my fen…fwen! But she loo-ted li' dinna buwieve me. She 'till tinks she swut. My faul'. Shoulda chased her bat fom Hamai-nee, but dinna." He nodded his head slowly.

"Den we ha' sets in cr…coset." A big, drunken grin crossed Ranger's face, "Wash goo'! Goo' sets…sec. Bu' now she tinks she jus' fut-toy. I fut-up."

"You had sex in Steph's closet? Why?" Lester was obviously still trying to follow this mangled tale.

"No! Joyzes coset, not Bae's. Waiting for powice, so we ha' sets."

Lester still didn't really get it, but decided to let this little side-track go. Eventually he asked, "OK, so you fucked up. What are you gonna do about it now?"

A bewildered look crossed Ranger's drunk face. This was obviously a bit much for Ranger to contemplate right now. Slowly his confusion cleared to another brilliant grin, "Dink!" he looked around. "Where's my 'quila?"

Tank shook his head, "The tequila's gone man, you drank it all. Come on, we'll get you to bed."

Ranger shook his head again, "Don' wanna go bed wi' Dank. On'y wan' sets wif Bae."

Lester laughed out loud at that, while Tank resisted the urge to punch his inebriated friend for his stupidity. Lester grinned, "Come on Romeo," as they both helped Ranger to stand and shuffle into the bedroom. They helped him onto the bed and he groaned and threw his arm across his eyes, obviously dealing with another bout of dizziness. Tank stripped off his boots, socks and gun-belt and holsters, and went to lock the weapons in the safe in Ranger's closet. Lester went into Ranger's office and found a metal rubbish bin that he placed beside Ranger's bed in case he needed to throw up. Then he thoughtfully put a couple of bottles of water on his bedside table, before they left.

Shaking their heads the two friends left the apartment. They entered the lift when it arrived to take them to level 3. Bobby had been unable to join them on level 7, as he was dealing with a minor medical emergency when Ella had called. They were heading down to fill him in.

Lester was trying to hold it together as he thought about the funny/sad crap that Ranger had been spouting. He was managing barely until Tank leaned against the elevator wall, crossed his arms on his chest and muttered, "Fucking moron!" Lester lost it, and Tank's mouth curled up at the corners as he watched his friend hold onto the elevator railing as he laughed his ass off.

They walked into Bobby's office, and Lester's eyes were still damp from laughter, as he called out, "We're back Bob-ny!" Tank just shook his head. Ranger was never going to live this one down.

Bobby looked up from his desk with a quizzical smile on his face, "What?"

"That's your new nickname," Lester smirked. He pointed at Tank, "He's Dank, I'm Lessa, and you're Bob-ny."

Bobby looked at Tank and cocked his eyebrow in a 'why' expression. Tank said, "Fucking moron on seven with his drunk talk."

"He's really drunk?" Bobby asked.

"Bottle and a half of Patron," Lester clarified. "Yeah he's well and truly off his ass."

Bobby looked concerned, "Should we get his stomach pumped or something? Should I be worried about alcohol poisoning?"

Tank shook his head, "I think he'll be OK. We put him to bed with a can to throw up in, and I locked up his weapons. He's just gonna have a massive hangover. Fucking moron."

Bobby shook his own head, bewildered, "But why?"

Lester chortled, "Well that's the million-donut question isn't it! And the answer is… duh, duh, dah! Steph! Of course. Plus, he's a fucking moron."

Bobby just waited, knowing he needed more information. Lester went on, "As near as we can figure it out, because his drunk-talk was truly unintelligible in parts, it goes something like this: he should have chased Steph back from Hawaii, but he 'dinna'. Then somehow, he had sex in a closet with her somewhere. Not sure on those details, couldn't figure that bit out. Anyway, after they had their closet-sex, Steph had a 'pif-nee'. She decided she was Ranger's fuck-toy. Or, in his word, 'fut-toy'. Then, apparently she had a second 'pif-nee' and figured out she's also Morelli's fuck-toy. So Steph decided she's a worthless slut, because she's letting them use her as a fuck-toy and throw her away."

Tank added, "I think he's tried to convince her he didn't see her that way; that she was his best friend, but he said she didn't believe him. So he drank himself into oblivion."

Bobby looked very concerned at this. Lester noticed his expression, "What? He'll be alright," he rationalised. "He deserves the almighty hangover he's gonna have. He has been treating her like a fuck-toy by the sound of it."

Bobby shook his head, "I'm not worried about the moron on seven, you idiot. I'm worried about Stephanie. Who wants to bet she's sitting at home telling herself over and over that she's a worthless slut who lets men use her as a fuck-toy. We all know she's got no self-esteem, although god knows why, and this is just another example of that. Any other woman with two good-looking men panting after her would think she's some kind of sex-goddess. Steph thinks she's a worthless slut. What if she goes to Morelli and tells him about her epiphany? I'd put money he's going to say, 'OK Cupcake, then the answer is marry me and you won't be a worthless-slut-fuck-toy anymore.' If she's down enough on herself she just might agree!"

The others looked worried too at this idea. Neither of them would take that bet, the odds were too short.

Bobby continued with his gloomy predictions, "Or what if she goes to see that shrew of a mother of hers in this frame of mind? What's she going to say? 'Yes, Stephanie, you are a slut, and you need to marry Joe Morelli as soon as possible, to redeem yourself.'"

Lester and Tank looked a little sick by this point. Lester no longer felt it was so funny.

Bobby said, "We've got to get him to fix this. As soon as possible. Tomorrow we sober him up and if he won't pull his own head out of his ass, we get the rope around his neck and do it for him! And we make him fix this. Now, before too much damage is done."

The three of them nodded. They headed for bed, knowing they had to be up early tomorrow for a little Ranger-intervention. They all just hoped they'd survive the session on the mats if Ranger wouldn't pull his head out of his ass!


So is Steph sitting at home depressed and crying, or is she out there kicking JM butt for treating her like a 'fut-toy'?! And how will the intervention go? Stay tuned… :)