I did not plan on writing a chapter when I woke up this morning... I tripped and fell on the notebook in just the right way for it to spill out... (disclaimer: no writers were injured in the making of this chapter)

Chapter 49

Out of respect for Bobby's current state of exhaustion and the fact that he'd just had to endure his sister's mild taunting, I remained quiet until he'd driven us to a local diner and we were settled on opposites sides of a booth in the back corner. The waitress, who must have a sixth sense for identifying those in dire need of caffeine, appeared at our table almost as soon as our butts hit the cushioned seats, pouring out two large mugs of coffee before disappearing back into the woodwork. I allowed Bobby to take a few sips while I perused the breakfast menu.

Finally, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and head tipped back. "Okay," he said waving a vague hand in my direction. "Ask away."

I grinned from ear to ear, pleased that I was being given permission to be nosy and satisfy my ever persistent curiosity. It just showed that Bobby knew me well. "Who's older?" I asked, deciding to start small. He may have gotten some caffeine in his system, but he was still a long way from being completely functional again. It would likely take weeks of rest to accomplish that.

"I am," he said without opening his eyes. He must trust my ability to watch his back if he was willing to let his guard slip a little out in public like this. I shifted in my seat a little in order to keep a better eye on our surroundings while he relaxed. Being able to protect him for a change filled my chest with a warm sensation that seeped slowly out to my limbs.

Knowing how tight lipped the guys tended to be about their personal lives, I assumed he was finished with his answer to that first question, but as my gaze skipped around the diner and I took a breath to ask my follow up, he continued speaking unprompted. "She's three years younger," he said. "Just turned thirty- two earlier this year."

The wealth of information these two simple statements provided me not only filled me in on the age gap between the pair, but also confirmed for the first time exactly how old Bobby was. I had assumed, based on the fact that Ranger was the same age as me, that Tank, Lester and Bobby were as well. When Lester was talking us through what he knew of Ranger's self-destructive cycle a few weeks ago, I'd been shocked to learn that he was, in fact, two years younger than me. It had set my brain spinning out of control, wondering just out old the guys actually were. And where I sat in the age range.

Now, with the insight Bobby had just offered, I knew that I was approximately a year older than him as well. That just left the mystery of Tank's age to potentially save me from being the oldest person out of the four of us. I was really hoping he was older, because the thought of me being the most advanced in age, when I knew how well put together the others were, scared the shit out of me.

"Do you have any other siblings?" I asked, pushing the age information into a tidy little denial box and filing it on the shelf for later when I had more information.

Bobby nodded, leaning forward to take another gulp of coffee. "A brother. Michael. Twenty-eight in November."

"Do you all get along?"

He snorted, a small smile curving his lips as he cracked his eyes open to meet my gaze. "You call that getting along?" he asked, hiking a thumb over his shoulder, which I took to refer to the interaction I had witnessed between him and Katie back at the clinic, and not the abstract painting that hung on the wall behind the booth.

I shrugged. "No insults were exchanged," I pointed out. "She only threatened probing questions. And there was hardly any resistance at all when you asked for her help. I got the impression that she likes to tease you but that the relationship you have with each other is overall functional and healthy."

Bobby's brows drew together briefly, but the expressions cleared with a slight shake of his head. "We get along all right," he said slowly. "A lot better now than when we were kids. I think not being stuck in the same house works in our favour."

"Tumultuous youth?" I guessed

"Anyone who claimes they did not have a tumultuous youth is either delusional, or lying," Bobby announced raising his hand to flag down the waitress.

Our conversation was put on hold while we ordered breakfast, but when the waitress turned her back, I already had my next question lined up. If Bobby was willing to answer questions about his life, I was going to milk it for all it was worth. "What does Michael do?"

Lips twitching, there was a sparkle in his eye as he reached for his mug once more, lifting it to cover the smile attempting to break forth on his face. After a moment he managed to get himself under control and stated seriously, "Part-time baggage handler." He took a leisurely sip before adding, "Full-time struggling artist."

I blinked, surprised by this information. For some reason, I'd assumed that the third Brown sibling would have followed the trend of joining the medical profession. The struggling artist thing hit me from left field. "Oh," I uttered, taking a sip of my own coffee in an attempt to get my thoughts back together after he'd scattered them with that curve ball. "That's… different."

"Yeah," he agreed, his smile growing again. "Mom is so proud that she worked so hard for him to drop out of college to toss bags around while trying to earn a living drawing taco herd cartoons." The confusion must have shown clearly on my face, because he seemed to review his words and embarked on a slightly more informative explanation. "He writes and draws this bizarre little webcomic about a herd of tacos," he said. "It's very niche, but he's trying to boost his audience to make it more mainstream."

I had so many questions about that, but before I could even begin to figure out where to start, our food arrived and the conversation was interrupted by my stomach's very loud demands to be fed. Eating seemed like the perfect activity to allow my brain to process all the new details it had been provided with, so I dug in without further comment.

"I'll email you the link to the comic so you can check it out," Bobby offered, fiddling with his phone for several seconds before he, too, started in on his breakfast.

Bobby kept up a steady stream of chatter while we ate, sharing details about his life without having to be asked, and as he continued to reveal more and more about himself and his origins, I could help by appreciate him even more. Here was a man that would do anything for those he loved, and it showed in the stories he told about his family.

I was in hysterics, almost choking on the last of my coffee as he finished telling me about the time Michael had gotten his head stuck in between the banisters while their mother – a trauma nurse – had been at work. Bobby and Katie had convinced him that the only way to get him free was to cut his head off. "Katie was standing on side of him with the bread knife from the kitchen, and I was on the other side with my arms through the banisters to hold a grocery bag under him to catch the head and he was so scared he was blubbering and might have even wet himself. I was just about end it all and tell him we'd just rub butter on his hed or something when Katie leans down and strokes his back so soothingly. 'Don't worry, baby brother,' she told him, grinning at me over his head, 'Mom can sew it back on when she gets home.!'"

"That's horrible!" I exclaimed, unable to keep my laughter in check. "Poor Michael."

Bobby, who was also chuckling at the memory of his childhood, nodded. "As you can tell, both Katie and I have made great strides in our medical practices since that day," he pointed out, passing me a napkin to mop up the tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard. "And Michael was probably traumatised enough to never even consider a career in medicine."

His phone chimed twice where he'd set it on the table, and while I tried to get myself back under control, he lifted it to read the messages. I sobered immediately as I watched Bobby's blank mask slammed in place, shutting off all the openness I'd been treated to for the last half hour.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling all the joy I'd been feeling a moment ago drain from my body in an instant. "Is it worse than we though? Do I have-"

"It's nothing," he assured me, his expression clearing just as quickly as it had clouded. "Your results are clear, no damage to the ribs. You should be fine a few days."

"Then…?" I let the question hang unfinished unsure if I should even bother completing it. There were some things that the guys weren't able to share with me, and I did my best not to pry and make them feel uncomfortable about their enforced secrecy.

He shook his head, slipping the phone back into his pocket and tossing a pulling out his wallet. "Distress signal from work," he explained, pulling out a few bills and tossing them down on the table to cover our meals. "I hate to cut this short when we were having so much fun, but I need to get back to Rangeman and deal with an idiot who doesn't know the meaning of 'no vigorous exercise until I say so'." He rubbed a hand over his face and I was once again made acutely aware of how haggard he looked.

"And I thought I was a bad patient," I mused as he stood and offered me a hand up. "At least I know how to do as I'm told."

Bobby sent me a dubious look, just a single eyebrow reaching for the truth in my statement and not finding it.

"Most of the time," I amended, smiling sheepishly at him. "And I'm getting better at it, too!"

He smilled the, squeezing my hand a littler tighter before releasing it on our way out the door. "That you are," he agreed.

*o*

Having promised Bobby I'd take it easy today despite my x-rays proving there was nothing to worry about aside from the slight swelling and the pain when the bruise was pressed, I showered and dressed casually for my usual trip to the bonds office. I stayed long enough to catch up on the daily news from Connie and Lula before retrieving a new stack of FTA files and returning to my apartment to start running some rudimentary background searches.

It took a few hours to gather all the information I could from what was freely accessible on the internet, by which point it was lunch time. I heated up some of the leftover curry Bobby had brought over a few days ago and zapped a cup of instant rice in the microwave to go with it Carrying my bowl and a bottle of beer into the living room, I sat on the sofa and flipped through the daytime tv viewing options before giving up and hitting play on the DVD that was perpetually ready to go in the player and settling in to eat.

By the time the movie curry and beer were gone and the movie was over, I had a half formed plan in the back of my mind. The guys needed my help. Tank was so swamped with paper work the only times I'd seen him in the last few weeks had been at our weekly group dinners. Bobby was working himself into the ground by being on call all the time. Lester hadn't voiced any complaints about the state of his own work-life balance, but I knew he had to be under more stress than usual, since his family was relying on him to keep an eye on Ranger and make sure he didn't go completely off the rails this time around. They needed some relief, and I thought I had just the way to bring it to them, but I needed some help to pull it off.

[Tangled in the leashes I have secured to the characters as they continually roam off the path I've set for them]

Um... little help?