Chapter 3

Bobby's mind was whirling as he raced up the stairs to the seventh floor. He didn't like the implications of the report Binkie had given him on his way over. Steph had arrived and gone straight to the seventh floor, which was not unheard of, but also not usual. If Steph was dropping by the Rangeman office, especially when she knew Ranger wasn't there, she would drop in on the fifth floor to let the guys know she was there and generally give some kind of explanation for her presence, not that she needed to. Ranger had given the order that she could come and go as she pleased, so that was what they allowed to happen. It was only Steph's courteous nature that forced her to explain why she was there.

Once she was inside the apartment, Hal had notified the core team and Ella, as per protocol, and they'd all thought that would be the end of the process until such a time as she emerged from the apartment or reached out to the control floor. When Ella had entered the apartment to provide some sustenance, though, things were amiss. According to Binkie, Ella had appeared at the monitors bank with worry practically dripping off of her and announced that something was wrong. Steph was sitting in the dark and not responding.

Hal had immediately taken action, calling a Code Blue for a Bomber emergency which pulled Tank, Lester and Bobby away from their assigned duties, before racing up to be sure she was okay, but from the limited second hand descriptions Bobby had, he was fearing the worst. Steph was usually quick to bounce back from any tragedy she found herself in. Hell, when she'd been tossed into the Delaware and nearly drowned, she'd taken a nap and been right as rain after. The fact that she was purportedly unresponsive now, when there were no known threats looming over her head, and her trackers hadn't pinged proximity alerts with any of the usual antagonists in her life was concerning and confusing, and Bobby just plain hated not knowing.

The apartment was still dark when he followed Tank inside, Lester bringing up the rear behind him, and it took no time at all to locate Steph and Hal in the dining room with Ella watching on. The housekeeper was a bundle of nerves and anxiety, but Bobby couldn't spare her more than a reassuring rub of the shoulder as his gaze found Steph curled in Hal's lap, tears streaking her cheeks as the softly spoken behemoth gave her words of encouragement. He mentioned rule books and deciding what success and failure look like, so Bobby could only guess that whatever had happened had something to do with the Burg and the infamous meddler, Helen Plum.

As her mother, Helen Plum, in Bobby's opinion, should have been one of the most supportive people in Steph's life. His own mother had always gone out of her way to build him and his siblings up, infusing love and confidence into every interaction she had with them until it felt like they could conquer the world if they wanted to, but Helen Plum seemed to do the exact opposite. Every time Steph went to her parents' house for dinner or spoke to her mother on the phone she came away a little less Steph, and it was up to her friends to wipe away the inky black residue of disapproval and restore her to her former glory. Unfortunately, sometimes it felt like a full-time job.

As Hal finished speaking and Steph seemed to accept his words, Bobby sent a nod of approval knowing that Hal was as averse to these big shows of emotion as Steph herself was. He'd stepped outside his comfort zone to help Steph in her hour of need, just as he always did. Their bond was an interesting one, but it didn't usually lean in this direction. There were unspoken agreements between them, a kind of siblinghood formed from both being slightly underachieving when they were thrown together in the beginning. Through the many ups and downs of their journeys they'd helped each other overcome trials and tribulations, learning from one another. But they didn't usually do the emotional debriefing like he'd been forced to do today. In fact, Steph and Hal were usually both more inclined to have a sandwich and suppress whatever trauma they'd endured.

The fact that they were talking about whatever had happened, meant it was too big for Steph to swallow, and Bobby was glad that Hal could recognise that the usual methods they preferred weren't going to cut it.

The momentary silence of the apartment was broken by the most gut wrenching sob Bobby had ever heard escape Steph's throat. It clawed at his heart and made him want to drag her into one of the bear hugs she'd always praised him for, but before Bobby could take a single step toward her, Lester was pulling her into his own embrace, consoling her with joking comments about Hal's metaphors, which they all knew could be a little convoluted at times.

Reassured that Lester had Steph and had the appropriate knowledge and skills to help her deal with whatever turmoil she was currently experiencing, Bobby followed Tank and Hal into the kitchen, eager to get a more thorough update on Steph's condition so they could come up with a strategy for moving forward and easing her apparent anguish.

If only Hal's report had included some kind of insight into what had happened beyond the fact that whatever it was had left her feeling like a failure. Fortunately, he'd had the good sense to offer to go run a history on Steph's movements before Tank could blow a fuse at the lack of information.

"Have you heard from Ronnie?" Bobby asked Tank as Hal retreated from the apartment. Ronnie was a seventy-year-old woman who had spent her entire life in the Burg. She knew everyone and everything that happened within the close-knit community, and Ranger had somehow convinced her to share that knowledge with him, especially where Steph was concerned. Being plugged into the Burg gossip tree allowed the Rangemen to anticipate Steph's needs and moods.

"Not in a few days," he replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. Bobby was pretty sure Tank aged ten years every time Ranger was 'in the wind' as Steph called it. Having the responsibility of taking care of not only Ranger's baby (aka Rangeman), but his woman as was a task that Bobby did not envy. It was bad enough trying to keep Steph in good health with her aversion to hospitals and medical procedures. "She's running smoothly, flying under the radar."

"Then what the hell happened?" Bobby questioned, barely containing his frustrations. It had been a while since they'd been thrown for a loop by something in Steph's life. They'd put a multitude of measures in place to ensure they were always on top of her safety and could be there at a moment's notice to help her out. So the fact that there was nothing on their radar, no domestic disturbances with the cop, no car fatalities, or miscellaneous substances being thrown at her, and she hadn't been near any of the danger zones, worried Bobby to no end. "It doesn't make sense."

Tank let out a sigh, dragging his hand down his face and distorting his features in a way that would have been comical had they both not been under the worst stress they'd felt in years. It was remarkable how the ups and downs of one neighbourhood girl's life could affect them all so deeply that it rivalled the pressure of the black ops they'd done in the military.

Maybe that's why Ranger still does them, Bobby thought to himself. Maybe the high-stress, sleep deprivation, and intense physical exertion of the government missions Ranger subjected to was his way of making Steph's life seem less nerve-racking. It certainly seemed like the kind of backwards logic Ranger would use to justify a situation.

"I'm gonna call Lula," Tank said quietly.

If Bobby hadn't already been aware of how dire the situation was, that statement would have let him know loud and clear. Once upon a time, Tank had dated Lula. It was certainly a spectacle to behold. Him, stoic and silent. Her, exuberant and always prattling on about some nonsense or another. Nobody was quite sure how it had started, whether Tank had taken an interest or just been caught in Lula's orbit, but the story of how it ended was legendary. Tank, who had faced down countless enemies without batting a eye, had freaked out, somehow found himself engaged and fainted. To this day, Lester still teased the hell out of him every time they passed a jewelry store.

As Tank turned his back and took a step away for the illusion of privacy, Lester appeared in the hall, one hand clasped around Steph's as he lead her through the apartment. She appeared to be on the verge of hyperventilating, which had Bobby's medic instincts surging to life once more, but when Lester caught his eye and signaled that she was close to dropping some information and that he was taking her to the roof to get some air and calm down, he relaxed a little. He trusted his partner to do the right thing. After all, Lester had been the one calming Bobby's own mind in the wake of night terrors for years. So Bobby just nodded and signaled back to remind him that they still had the comms active if there was an emergency.

He listened as their footsteps retreated and the door to the apartment closed behind them. Mimicking Tank's hand scrubbing action from before, Bobby let himself sag against the counter behind him, trying to tamp down the stress he could feel tightening his muscles. Now was the not the time to tense up. He had to stay loose so he'd be ready for action. Anything was possible where Stephanie Plum was concerned.

With his head tilted back, and eyes closed, he sensed an extra presence in the room and knew that Ella had wandered through from the dining room in Steph and Lester's absence. Bobby took one last deep breath and resolved to slip into his best I'm all right tone when he asked, "How are you holding up, Ella?"

Like Steph, Ella was resilient, able to deal with the dangers that came from working at Rangeman and move through the stress to keep the company flowing with all the work she did behind the scenes. It didn't change the fact that she was a worry-wart, though. She was like a mother duck, checking to make sure everyone was eating right and getting enough sleep, chipping in extra hours on top of her regular duties to assist in any way she could to ensure everyone was comfortable. And she had a real soft spot for Steph. Nobody at Rangeman liked seeing Steph injured or upset, but it it was doubly true for Ella.

"Stephanie's father is in the hospital," Ella stated, clasping her hands in front of her.

Bobby's head snapped around to stare at Ella. This was new information. When had Ella obtained that information?

"I'm not sure if you overheard from out here," she went on when all Bobby could do was stare. "But she told Lester that her father is in hospital, and she seems to think that it's her fault."

"Damn." He must have been more distracted than he'd realised, because now that he thought about it, he hadn't been paying attention to any of the audio coming in through the little bud in his ear. He had to get his head in the game. Hospitals were his area of expertise, so the team, and Steph, would be relying on him. "Thank you for letting me know," Bobby said to Ella, laying a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. "Can I ask you to organise a donut delivery for Steph, I think she's going to need the comfort food when she finally calms down."

Ella smiled warmly, returning the squeeze with one of her own as her deceptively dainty hand came up to grip his forearm. "Hal already requested a donut delivery. It should be here soon if it's not already. I'll go retrieve it and bring it up."

Bobby nodded, releasing Ella as she gave him a reassuring pat on the cheek. Where would they be without Ella?

Tank was off the phone already when Bobby turned his attention to his friend. "Frank Plum is in hospital," he informed him, even though he was pretty sure that Tank had already heard the conversation that had just taken place. "I'll call my contacts, see if I can get a status."

"I'll contact Ronnie and see what she has to say about it. We only pay her to keep us in the loop on Steph-related gossip, so maybe she didn't think Frank's being in hospital was relevant."

"How is it not relevant?" Bobby countered exasperatedly, but they both just shook their heads, knowing that the Burg didn't think the same way they did.

As Tank turned away once more to make his phone call, Bobby leaned across the counter to snatch up the notepad and pen Ranger kept there, settling into one of the stools at the breakfast bar and scrolling through his phone until he found the number for the nurse he'd befriended over the years of attending to Rangeman's many injuries. They had an easy rapport, trading information in cryptic codes so as not to breech confidentiality agreements. And she was aware of how important Steph was to the men. She was the one that had turned a blind eye when they'd all piled into Steph's hospital room outside of visiting hours the first time she'd been seriously injured. And she was the one who kept Bobby informed if Steph ever turned up at the ER under her own power. Not that that happened often.

The phone rang out three times before she finally picked up. "Bobby, you of all people should know how important sleep is," she groaned by way of greeting. I just worked a ten hour shift, and you call an hour into my beauty sleep?"

"You know I wouldn't call if it wasn't important Jenny," Bobby apologised.

She sighed and there were some rustling noises that he hoped were not a sign that she was burrowing back under the covers. "What do you need?"

"Steph's dad is in hospital. I need a status update."

"Name?" Jenny requested over a short clattering pen search.

"Frank Plum." And for good measure he gave any other details he knew that could help identify the patriarch of the Plum family.

"Do you know what he's in for?" she asked.

Bobby shook his head. "No."

"I'll make a few calls and see what I can dig up," Jenny promised. "You owe me Starbucks next night shift." That was the deal. Any time Bobby interrupted her sleep, he had to hand deliver a venti triple shot latte with a caramel swirl during her next night shift. It was a small price to pay for wealth of information she provided. Probably, they could get Hector to hack into the hospital computer system, but sometimes there's more to the story that the doctors and nurses haven't spelled out in their notes, so personal approach yielded better results.

"You got it," Bobby confirmed, and ended the call.

"Ronnie says Frank was shot while driving the cab," Tank said the second Bobby removed the phone from his ear. "Some old bitty apparently saw a couple guys named-" he checked the notes he'd scribbled on the whiteboard on the fridge where Ella would leave reheating instructions for the meals she left Ranger. "-Jasper Norton and Killian Harvey running away. Eddie and Carl were first on the scene."

Bobby nodded that he'd heard the report. "Jenny's off shift, but she's doing a ring around to find out his status."

Now it was Tank's turn to nod. "You stay here and cue up Ghostbusters on the TV," he instructed, taking a photo of the whiteboard and moving toward the door. "I'm going down to check in with Hal and follow up with the cops. Something about these names sounds familiar."

*o*

Bobby paled as he listened to Jenny relay the extent of Frank Plum's injuries. This wasn't good. A gunshot wound to the chest at close range, penetrating the chest cavity. He was lucky to still be alive by the time the ambulance arrived. Fortunately, Jenny had informed him that New Jersey's top thoracic surgeon was attending, so at the very least, Steph's dad was in good hands. He just hoped it was enough.

From what he'd seen and overheard, Steph was not in a good place mentally. Between her father, the man she had relied on to be the voice of strength in her ear since the day she was born, being shot and taken to hospital, and her mother's typical emotional abuse, Steph it was no wonder she'd been near catatonic when Ella and Hal had found her. She'd been through a lot over the years, but there had always been one man she could turn to to offer her comfort. There was nothing that could replace the love between a girl and her dad.

Not even the love that Ranger had for Steph, as large as they all knew it was, could fill the that would be left in Steph's heart if Frank didn't make it.

Thanking Jenny, Bobby promised to get her the Starbucks he owed her and hung up just as Lester and Steph were making their way back down the stairs from the roof. He had just enough time to take a deep, cleansing breath and clear the worry from his expression while ensuring that it wasn't completely blank so as not to cause premature concern before the pair entered the living room where he'd been pacing while on the phone.

"Hey, Bomber," Bobby greeted, turning on his best bedside manner. "Feeling a little better?"

She let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging, but nodded. "A bit," she confirmed. "I guess I kinda freaked out." She didn't protest when Bobby approached and offered a hug, instead leaning heavily against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "My Dad was shot today while out driving the cab, and Mom is losing her mind with worry and did what she does best: turns it into anger at me for not fitting into her perfect picture of what she thinks I should be."

"If I've said it once, I've said it a million times: Helen Plum needs a reality check," Bobby said, squeezing Steph a little tighter. "You know you don't owe her anything. Don't let her guilt you into thinking less of yourself."

"I'm trying," she mumbled into his chest, giving a brief squeeze back before stepping out of his arms and running hand over her face.

"I suggested we call the hospital to see what we can find out about Dad's condition," Lester mentioned, casually referring to Steph's father as Dad, as was his nature. And oddly enough, it worked for him. Somehow, people always saw it as an endearing quality when he did it. It was how he'd won over Bobby's own sister and grandmother, two women who absolutely would not tolerate such behaviour from anyone else. And that was before Lester and Bobby had gotten together.

Their eyes met across the space, Lester's carefully relaxed posture taking on a smidge more tension as he read the message in Bobby's subtle expression. He knew from the way Lester's gaze moved to Steph and down before back to Bobby that he understood what he was trying to silently convey and was broadcasting his concern with telling Steph the whole truth while she was still so fragile. He couldn't agree more, but they'd also vowed not to lie to her. It was a difficult line to straddle, but ultimately, she needed to know.

"I already called," Bobby revealed, monitoring Steph's body language and expression closely for any changes as he continued. "I hope you don't mind. Ella mentioned that your Dad had been shot, so I wanted to check in with my contacts and see how he was doing."

"Is he okay?" Steph asked, hope shining in her deep blue eyes.

This was the question he'd dreaded, because, no, Frank wasn't okay. And there was every chance that he wouldn't be okay. But he didn't want to put that thought in her head and have her check out again. She'd run through a lot of storms, but this situation with her dad had the potential to be what ultimately broke her, forcing her to put her sword down and do a deep dive into the pain. "He's still in surgery," Bobby explained, hoping that the information would be enough to satisfy her legendary curiosity. Please don't make me be the bearer of bad news. Please don't make me be the one to snuff out that spark inside of you. Bobby didn't think he could handle much more of this quiet, version of his friend who seemed to carry her scars like chains and shackles. "One of my contacts will call me the second he's out."

Steph stared at him for a long minute, considering his words, and whether she needed or wanted to know, before her gaze drifted to Lester where he perched on the back of the couch, and finally to the TV screen where Ghostbusters was ready and waiting for her to hit play. She must have chosen denial, because with a tight smile that steered well clear of her eyes, she thanked him, and turned toward Ranger's bedroom. "I'm going to shower and then veg on the couch. You can get back to you jobs if you like."

There was absolutely no way either Bobby or Lester was going to let Steph sit alone in the apartment in the state she was in. They knew a depressive episode when they saw one, and even her failsafe comfort movie couldn't guarantee her mood would remain stable. So when Steph emerged from the shower half an hour later, they were seated at opposite ends of the couch, ready to accept Steph into their usual lounging-around position: Steph leaning against Lester with her feet in Bobby's lap. Tank and Hal had the investigation into the circumstances surrounding the shooting under control downstairs and would notify them as soon as they had a clear picture, so the best thing they could do was simply be there for their friend.