It's been a couple days. The muse required some time to mull things over a bit, so I've been binge-reading comics on webtoons.

Chapter 40

Back in the kitchen, Tank took up residence leaning against the wall, watching Bobby and Lester with his arms crossed over his chest and as much distance as he could manage while remaining in the same room. He was still out of sorts, but I'm pretty sure our little chat had helped, if only to give him some different perspectives to consider about the situation. I only hoped that things would get better for him – for all of us, really – with time. If we couldn't help each other get through this, there was no hope for any of us.

Leaving Tank to his own devices, I made my way over to where Lester and Bobby were crowded around the microwave, deep in discussion. "How are we going over here?" I asked, forcing my way between their shoulders so I could see the object of their focus. Bobby turned to look at me first, and I tried to convey my question regarding Lester's current state using only the muscles of my face. It must have worked because he blinked slowly, inclining his head a fraction of an inch to let me know it was all good before Lester grabbed my attention.

"Ratatouille or Duck ragout?" he asked, holding up two containers.

I stared at the frozen meals for a second, unable to tell what either of them were through the frost on the outside. "What's the difference?" I said after several moments of contemplation.

"One is a vegetable stew consisting primarily of tomato, zucchini and eggplant," Bobby explained, turning his attention to the pots he had on the stove. "The other is a highly seasoned dish of small pieces of meat stewed with vegetables."

Glancing between Bobby and Lester, I took a moment to process this explanation and summarised, "So… stew or stew?"

Lester's lips jerked into a grin as he weighed the containers he still held. "Essentially."

Bobby appeared less amused by my response, laying down his wooden spoon and turning to face us both with his hands on his hips. It was then that I noticed that he'd tied a pale pink, frilly apron over his black on black Rangeman uniform. The snort escaped me before I had a chance to check my reaction. Was that my apron? Did I even own an apron? Had he brought it with him? Was it his? I had so many questions, but Bobby was lecturing before I could voice them, causing me to bite down on my curiosity and the laughter attempting to bubble up inside. There was a time and place for laughter, and now was not it.

"It's so much more complex than that!" Bobby was saying. "These stews are-"

Lester, apparently, had no qualms in interrupted the lecture. Probably, he'd heard it before. "They're both French, right?" he asked, receiving only a mute nod in reply. "Maybe we should ask Tank. He's French."

Bobby shook his head. "Tank is not French," he countered.

"Sure he is," Lester said. "His name is Pi-"

"You know what?" I interrupted, not wanting to have to clean up a murder scene in my own kitchen because Lester was too stupid to keep his mouth shut and not use the name our large, angry friend hated being called. "Ragout. Let's have the ragout. That's the meat one, right?"

Bobby nodded, taking the appropriate container from a now silent Lester and returning his attention to the stove once more. "Lester, put the rest of these away and take those over to the table," he instructed, gesturing to the various groups of containers still on the counter in front of us. "Steph, why don't you grab out some drinks? Food should be ready in a few minutes."

Lester and I managed an accidentally synchronised mock salute, and both moved to the fridge. Lester had his hands full of containers, so I opened the freezer for him, catching sight of the staggering number of containers already filling the space. The breath rushed out of my lungs as I tried to calculate how many days I could go without cooking and live on these frozen meals alone. "Bobby, this is too much," I gasped.

He paused in his reheating actions to glance over at what I was referring to, noting that Lester was now slotting containers into the last remaining space inside the freezer. "Which is precisely why I brought it over," Bobby said, turning away once more. "My freezer was just as full at home."

"I can't accept this," I insisted, shaking my head slowly.

"Nonsense," Bobby replied matter-of-factly as he transferred the dishes he'd been working with to bowls and handed them to Lester to take over to the table. "It's food I'm not going to eat. You're doing me a favour."

I wasn't sure I could argue with him any further. I was immensely grateful for the gesture. It meant that I could eat healthy meals while I was figuring out how to make them myself, and it would likely prevent me from the temptation of ordering fast food when I was exhausted from the day's trials. But it was still a lot of food. I simply didn't understand how he could have so much tucked away that he'd be able to spare this much and still have enough for himself. I was absolutely gobsmacked. No matter how long I knew these guys, they continued to find ways to throw my off balance with their generosity.

"If Steph doesn't want them, I'll take them," Lester said, returning for another load of food. "I'd be more than happy to do you a favour by eating your leftovers."

"No," Bobby stated firmly, following Lester's progress back to the table with a glare.

"Come on!" he moaned. "You know I hate cooking! It's the perfect solution!"

"And this is exactly why I refuse to be your roommate again," Bobby replied coolly, grabbing drinks from the fridge and thrusting them into my hands with a nudge toward the table. "I like to have meals on standby for the more difficult days, but you would eat everything before it even made it to the freezer."

"No." Lester shook his head, hooking a leg over one of the kitchen chairs so that he was seated on it backwards to stay engaged in the conversation. "You refuse to be my roommate because of a particularly unfortunate incident involving a one-night stand, a circus performer, and a misplaced dagger throw." A full body shudder wracked Bobby's person as he switched out containers in the microwave, but Lester just shrugged. "I can't help it if my strengths lie in areas other than the kitchen."

"Like the bedroom?" I asked, having recovered slightly from my speechlessness.

He grinned from ear to ear and stood from the chair, propping one foot on the seat and rolling his hips suggestively. "I have a four-and-a-half-star rating on Rate My Booty Call," he stated proudly.

I snorted harder than I had when I noticed Bobby's apron. "That's not a thing," I challenged.

Shaking his head as the microwaved dinged once more, Bobby muttered under his breath as he transferred the last of the dishes to the table, "I wish it wasn't a thing." He didn't give anyone a chance to discuss the matter further, though as he sat on the chair next to the one Lester was using for his impromptu display and started handing out plates. "Right," he said, switching gears, all business. "Food's all heated. Steph is keeping the leftovers and we're not talking about Lester's sex life at the table. Everyone sit down, and dig in."

We followed his instructions silently, Tank taking the chair opposite Lester and me opposite Bobby around the square table so that there was a buffer between the two men on both sides. Bobby explained each of the dishes he'd provided for our consumption and we all worked at filling out plates, tasting the various foods as we went. It wasn't until we'd all managed a few mouthfuls that I decided to engage the men in a serious conversation.

"So," I said, swallowing my latest bite and setting down my cutlery for the moment. "We didn't get a chance to talk about it last night because I was falling asleep, but…" Tank cut his eyes to me, a warning that I was prepared to ignore. He needed to realise that as much as he was in charge of the Trenton branch right now, he wasn't alone in his struggles. They were all in the same boat right now, dealing with their own anger and the betrayal of their friend in their own ways while also working hard to maintain business as usual at the company that said friend owned. They were conflicted by their sense of loyalty to the company they helped to build and their sense of justice for wrongs that Ranger had committed. "How do you guys feel about what Ranger said about the investors not being the cause of his proclamation?"

The silence that followed my question spoke volumes. The clatter of cutlery on plates stopped. Jaws paused mid chew. Eyes widened, and narrowed and darted across the table, analysing the body language of the others at the table as they each tensed, then worked through releasing their muscles systematically. Even Rex stopped running on his wheel to stare at us all, twitching his whiskers in concern. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife it was so thick.

And then, after several long seconds, they all broke at once. Speaking over each other:

"I don't want to talk about it," Lester stated firmly, dropping his gaze to his plate and shovelling food into his mouth to avoid being coerced into changing his mind.

"I thought we came here to discuss your training, not Ranger's dick moves," Bobby said, locking eyes with me across the table, his brows drawing together with concern.

I didn't hear Tank's words, but I definitely saw his lips moving as he sliced his asparagus meticulously.

Clearly, Bobby and Lester weren't any keener on sharing their feelings on the matter with me than Tank had been, but if I'd learned anything this year it was that ignoring problems only made them worse. It was toxic and the more you tried to push it under the rug, the bigger it got until it was the size of an elephant. And now, of course, we were left with the metaphorical elephant in the room that everyone seemed hell bent on ignoring. That might have been okay with the old Stephanie. In fact, she probably would have welcomed it. But the new Stephanie was determined to foster better mental health not only for herself but for her friends.

"We'll get to my training," I assured them. "I just need to check in and make sure you're all okay. You've known Ranger a lot longer than I have. You fought along side him. He was your brother in arms. The fact that he lied to you all must be a real punch in the gut. I think it's important that we talk about these things. If one of us is struggling with coming to grips with what he's done it would probably help if we all had an open and frank conversation about it."

"You want an open and frank conversation about your feelings?" Lester questioned, accidentally spitting half chewed chicken onto the table as he stared at me in confusion.

"I certainly don't want to bottle it all up inside and go do something reckless that will likely get myself hurt," I pointed out, handing him a napkin and nodding toward the mess he'd made.

"Lester's not taking a stab at your past decisions, Steph," Bobby defended, reacting to the tension in the air the way he always did by trying to smooth things out. "We just want to make sure that you're okay with the topic of conversation you're proposing before we start dishing out our feelings. You obviously have your own issues to work through when it comes to Ranger and we don't want to make things worse by delving into it when you're not ready to process what happened yet. We each heal at our own pace."

I took a sip of my water, thinking over Bobby's words and contemplating my own feelings on the subject at hand before nodding decisively. "Like I said," I stated, making eye contact with each one of them in turn. "I'd rather deal with it properly than let it fester and infect me."

As if my surety in the face of tackling my emotions was all they needed, they each began to unload their own thoughts and feelings on the matter. All at once. Speaking over top of each other again. I let them go for a few minutes, there was no way I could understand what each of them was saying at this point, so I focused instead on eating my food before it got cold, as I watched the emotions contorting their features and moving their bodies. Eventually, the all grew silent, looking at one another rather sheepishly.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"A bit," Lester confessed, shovelling food into his mouth.

"It feels good to get it off my chest," Bobby added, picking up his bottle of water and guzzling down half.

Tank just gave a slight nod.

"Okay," I said slowly. "So, can we have a proper discussion about it now? Like adults? Where one person speaks at a time?" They made affirmative noises but none of them moved to take the lead in the discussion. I guess that was my role. "Well, Tank brought up the Ranger Creed earlier," I said. "He said that Ranger had broken it. Anyone want to share their thoughts?"

"Holy fucking shit, you're right," Lester burst out, slamming his hands down on the table. "I hadn't even thought about that!"

"The honour code we've all lived by for years," Bobby added slowly. "He's dragged it through the mud."

Tank continued to say nothing as Lester and Bobby discussed the specifics of how Ranger had broken the creed and what would have happened if he'd done it back when they were all on active duty in the army. It didn't sound pleasant, at all, but it still wasn't an open discussion on their feelings like I'd suggested.

"How does Ranger breaking the creed make you feel?" I asked, interrupting Lester's rather graphic description of one particular punishment he'd endured. "I know I don't exactly share the same statements of values that you've all got from being in the military, but I thought Ranger and I had an agreement to never lie to each other, our relationship relied heavily on trust because of all the parts of his life he couldn't share with me. When I found out that he'd not only made a drastic decision about my life without consulting me, or even giving me a heads up, I felt angry and betrayed, but then learning that he'd done all that as well as lie to me and all my friends about the reasoning behind it, I damn near broke all over again."

"We were all shocked that Ranger would do such a thing to you, Steph," Bobby said, reaching across the table to cover my hand with his. "We already told you about how we tried to refuse to sign the contracts. None of us could understand what on earth possessed him to allow himself to be bullied into hurting you by a bunch of suits."

"I've never known Ranger to act so recklessly," Tank rumbled, finally breaking his silence. "He's always been the level-headed one, considering all the options and making informed decisions for the good of everyone involved. He's never made such a massive oversight before. Ever."

"Actually…" Lester murmured, his tone uncertain. All three of our heads snapped around to stare at him, expectant. "This isn't the first time he's shown destructive and self-sabotaging behaviours."

Had an argument with my muse today about how to fix a major plot hole I've noticed. Her solution makes things even more complicated, but it's a very good solution, so I must bow to her superior knowledge of the universe and write as she wills it, or I'll be stuck with writer's block. *sad face*