Thank you for all the reviews and for sticking with me through this:) As I said last chapter, we're almost done with this story…and with the trilogy. I thought there would be two chapters left…but this one just wrote itself and, I think, helps pull the three separate stories together. If I can sum it all up next chapter I will, if I can't, expect two more. And thanks again for taking on chance on this.

If you recognize them, they're not mine :)

And thank you Margaret for reading ahead as my beta once again.

Chapter 42—The Diagnosis

Caution for language.

It was all settled. My parents and grandmother were coming out on Friday. We'd invited Carlos' mother, father and grandma Rosa too. My plan was to have a barbecue for fourteen — the six of them, Carlos and myself, Bobby and Ashley, Lula and Tank and whatever two Rangeman guards were staying in the apartment, guarding our lives. I thought Carlos could just throw some 'burgers and 'dogs on the grill and we could boil up some corn and that would be it. Simple. Well Carlos told me that a barbecue wasn't as simple as I envisioned and that he was refusing to become a short order cook for more than five. I guess one thing led to another and Ella recommended Eula. So…right now I was sitting in the kitchen with Eula going over menus for our barbecue.

"Salmon is really great on the grill. You marinate it first and it comes out really tender. It's one of the things Sam's specialized in. Ribs too. I could do them both for you," Eula was telling me.

Whatever happened to hotdogs with sauerkraut and mustard?

"That's a lot of work Eula. I was envisioning hotdogs and hamburgers."

"Mr. Ranger…sorry…Ranger…isn't paying me to do something anyone can do in their backyard. This is a classy place you have here and you need a classy barbecue."

"But I want corn-on-the-cob," I pouted like a petulant child.

"We can do corn-on-the-cob but we can also do Oysters Rockefeller and…"

"Ok, ok. I get it. You're trying to show Carlos that you're the best sous chef there is. I get that but why does everything have to turn into such a big deal?"

"Because it is a big deal! You've just invited twelve people over and your fiancé warned me that another 20-25 could just show up once the word got out that you were having a barbecue. Thirty-five plus people is a big deal as far as I'm concerned."

"Did he tell you to make enough food for thirty-five people? That's almost as many as we'll have at my wedding in two weeks. Well…half."

"He said to prepare for twenty and to have additional in the freezer in case we needed it. I was thinking two sides of salmon and 15 pounds of ribs and probably around 150 oysters. I'll make potato salad, cole slaw and a pasta salad and we can get two bushels of corn sent over from the farm stand I saw on my way here. I'll make a few trays of brownies and ice cream…Ranger said your mother was going to make a pineapple-upside-down cake. We'll need one more dessert. Ideas?"

"Chocolate chip cookies?"

"Ok. Chocolate chip cookies…and?"

"And Ben and Jerry's, please."

"That's ice cream. I was going to make homemade to go with my brownies. I was thinking Espresso and Salted Caramel. Or maybe a Guinness Milk Chocolate — I made that at Sam's once, it was unbelievable."

I just didn't understand why everything had to be so elaborate. Really. Ben and Jerry's was just fine. Hamburgers and hotdogs were just fine. Goddammit, a bag of briquettes in a goddamn hole in the sand was just fine. Why did everything have to be so complicated? I was beginning to lose my patience.

"You're not twenty anymore Babe. And our parents are in their fifties and sixties. Our grandmothers are older than that. Do you really want them sitting on blankets on the beach? Be realistic."

I guess I expressed my frustrations out loud.

"Well since you're listening, why the fuck can't things be simple again? Why the high drama over everything?"

"There's no high drama except what you make out of it. Babe, we aren't teenagers anymore. My grandmother is in her eighties and expects to be catered to. And I know you see Edna as a kid, but she's not. Do you actually think they'd be able to get up from a blanket on the sand? Babe, I'm sorry…but this time, this isn't about you."

I was so fucking frustrated I tried to get up from the goddamn wheelchair and run away. The pain that shot through my thigh told me it wasn't a good idea and I burst into tears. "Goddamn you and your goddamn righteousness Carlos Manoso. I'm just sorry… sorry that right now it sucks to be me."

"Babe," he said, that stupid name for me, again. I looked over at him one more time and I saw the pain etched onto his face. He really did care that I was hurting. "What can I do? Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?"

I shook my head no. I really didn't want to take any more painkillers.

"I'm ok Carlos. I just had to get it out of my system. I'm sorry Eula, I didn't mean to take it out on you. And I do realize that thirty-five people is a lot of work. I've just had a very frustrating few days and I think they finally hit me. I'm sorry," I said once more.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bobby and Ashley come into the kitchen. Carlos looked over at Bobby. He nodded and left the room. When he came back he had his bag with him.

"Steph, I'm supposed to monitor you. I'd like to take your blood pressure and I'd like to give you a mild sedative if I think you need it."

I didn't answer him. I'd find out what my blood pressure was first.

"It's probably through the roof. I'm so frustrated and I'm feeling helpless. And that's not a good combination."

Bobby put the cuff on me. "140 over 82," he said. "Steph, those are pre-hypertension numbers. You're choice but I'd like to give you a sedative. It won't knock you out; it'll just take the edge off all this frustration you're feeling. And I'd like to monitor your blood pressure a little closer than I have been. I'm hoping this is just because of everything you've been through but if I see a pattern with numbers 120 over 80 and higher, I think you'll need to start taking high blood pressure medication."

"What? I'm thirty-four years old. What thirty-four-year-old that you know takes medication for their blood pressure?"

"Lots. And your grandfather died from a heart attack. You have hypertension in your family."

"Ok. Give me the shot. I think I'm a little out of control today," I told him, reflecting back on my morning.

"No shot Steph. This is the lowest dose of diazepam there is. 2 milligrams. Take it with water and you should feel better in about twenty minutes."

Ranger's POV

Steph's emotional outburst frightened me. I was used to her resiliency. So much so that I didn't expect yesterday's experience to get to her so thoroughly. For once I was glad Bobby was here…and that he heard it all first-hand. I was also glad he had Valium in his bag of tricks. Not that I'm a pill-taker, but there are times when one is sorely needed. This was one of those times. I knew Steph couldn't see herself, but her face was flushed with the frustration only she was feeling. Maybe I had been wrong to invite her family here to see her. And maybe she had been wrong to invite mine. However it was done. I'd see how she was fairing tomorrow. If Bobby and I thought that cancelling this whole get together was the right thing to do, I'd do it. I'd pay Eula for her time and we'd see everyone at our wedding. I just hoped that she'd be up for that.

The Valium knocked her out anyway and currently she was sleeping on the couch in the den. Her and Ashley had gone in to watch television and I doubt Steph made it through more than the opening commercials. It did give me a chance to have a talk with Bobby though.

"Post traumatic stress?" I asked as we walked on the beach. He'd seen more than his share as unit medic.

"I think so but we usually wait to see if the symptoms pass on their own before making that diagnosis. I personally believe the month's wait is too long and if it were my fiancé, I'd try to get her to talk to someone now."

"Elliott?"

"He's the best."

"I know. He got me out of my PTSD in only three sessions…"

"Steph's had this before. She had it bad right before you and Tank were sentenced. And if I remember correctly, she had it again after her and Maryanne took Briggs down. PTSD can come from any number of things and in some cases the symptoms don't begin until years after the event. This latest bout may be from Briggs. She was pretty stressed over that…"

"Or from Kraven. And it was never treated the first time. Lula met with Elliott when she was having her struggle with self-doubt, but Steph seemed to get better on her own and we never followed up on it. What do you think the chances of him coming here would be?"

"Call him. Offer him double his usual rate and we can send a NetJets plane to pick him up. But don't do this without talking to Steph. You, more than anyone, know how she is. Everything needs to be her decision. Don't go off half-cocked because you think a little therapy would be beneficial for her. Ask her."

"I was planning to. And I think I'll do it as soon as she wakes up and still has some Valium in her system. She scared me before…"

"Her outburst scared me too. Why do you think we came into the kitchen when we did?"

"I figured you heard her."

"Valium is short-acting. It should be out of her system in another hour or so. I don't want to give her anymore. If she seems calm enough, I'd talk to her about Elliott without drugs. She'll be mad at you if she thinks you took advantage of her sedation to get something you wanted."

"Something that's best for her."

"Yes, but she won't see it that way."

"I know."

Lula's POV

I was pretty sure it was Ranger that was on the phone with Tankie. They talked everyday whether they were in the office or not. We'd just gotten to our house on Lake Como when his cell rang and he's been outside talking for the last twenty minutes. Of course, I used the time to unpack and put our things into closets. If it were up to Tankie, he'd live outta the suitcase.

Tank came inside, still on his phone, as I hauled my bag onto the top shelf of the larger of the two closets in our bedroom.

"Lula baby, Ranger wants to talk to you."

"Uh, sure," I said taking the phone from him a little nervously. Ranger never asks to speak to me.

"Hi Lula," he said, real friendly-like when I got on the phone. "I want to ask you a couple of questions."

"Sure. Ok."

"Remember last year when you went down to Biloxi with Tank…"

"Yeah, we went down to Etta Mae's after the Brigg's thing. I think we stayed down there for about three weeks. Why?"

"And you remember Elliott, right?"

"Of course. He got my head back on straight. I was feeling like Steph sided with Maryanne and that she and Hector left me hanging out to dry. It took a few sessions with him but he got me to realize that I was just suffering from post traumatic stress disorder."

"Right. What did you think of him? Do you think he'd be good for Stephanie?"

"What's a matter with Steph? Does she have the PTSD thing too? I mean, if I was laying in a room with a live bomb, I'd have it. All's I got it from was my insecurities over my inability to protect myself from Ramirez. It all kinda came back to me at once when I was watching Maryanne and Hector practicing. Is that what Steph's going through too. I mean Elliott was real good with me. He's very patient."

"Steph had a small breakdown here today and Bobby thinks Elliott might be good fit for her. I just wanted to know what your experience with him was. Was he helpful?"

"Yes. God yes."

"Good to know. If Steph asks about him, tell her that."

"I will. Here's Tankie back."

Now I was worried about Steph. She was always my rock. Whenever things got a little tough I just looked over at her. Yeah, she was scared at times, we both were, but she always handled it better than me.